The Green Rising

Chapter Seventeen

Lightning cracked through the morning sky, its proximity bolting me upright in bed.  Clouds hovered ominously as I looked out the window; it was a good day to stay home. The double dose of laxatives I’d given the priest would supply the perfect excuse of some sort of intestinal bug.

I reached for the phone and punched in Father Xavier’s number, but the phone was silent. No dial tone. Did I forget to pay the bill? I fumbled through my purse for the flip phone and called the number, thankful when it went straight to voice mail.

It was going to be a long day, but Rosie and I would have our chat, and hopefully she’d forgive my deception. But if last night’s noise from the neighboring room was any indication, Rosie wouldn’t be waking anytime soon. Or ever. The girl had been drunker than a skunk when she came into the apartment. And of course they hadn’t gone to sleep right away, if they even had gone to bed. Was the guy still here? I hoped not.

My stomach rumbled and I walked to the kitchen, pouring some cereal into a bowl as I took note of syrup-soaked pancakes stuck to plates on the table. I needed to have a chat with Rosie. Deciding that the mess was too much to deal with at the moment, I carried the bowl to my computer. I was sure somewhere on the Internet was an article about some child star gone wild.

“Why, good morning, Lily,” the familiar voice said from behind me as I read about the young actress who was arrested for the umpteenth time. My hand trembled and spilled cereal onto my pajama bottoms. I collected the puffed rice from my pants and sopped the milk up with a paper towel.

Whose voice was it? I racked my brain, trying to place it. I sat slack-jawed in the chair as soon as I put a face with the voice.

“Running late today, are we?” Mad Max said, his tone unfriendly.

“Actually, no. I called in sick. Think I caught Father Xavier’s bug. Everything’s been running right through me,” I answered. It was probably too much information, but I groaned for effect.

He gave a condescending stare as he stood in silence for several moments. “I don’t think so. You slept the entire night and I haven’t heard the toilet flush once this morning.”

“Do you typically spend your time listening for flushing toilets, Max?” Not wanting to alert him to my terror, I turned back to the computer screen.

He laughed. “You may think you can lie to us, but you’ll pay dearly for what you’ve done. Where’s the book?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I answered, my heart pounding through my ribcage.

“I believe you do. I’ll give you ten minutes to produce it or your sister dies,” he said flatly. “I’d suggest you get off the fucking computer right now.”

Not wanting him to think he had me rattled, I opted to finish reading my article. I clicked on another link and was halfway through the article when he rushed at me, wrapping his hands around my neck.

My eyes bulged and tongue protruded as he jerked me out of the chair. My hands rose in a panic to pry his fingers away from me. My fingernails dug into his flesh but he did not falter. His grip tightened and gurgles of nausea lurched within me as I flailed my arms and legs to escape him.

“Where’s the fucking book?” he sneered. “We know you have it. You can make this easy or hard, but one way or another I’ll get it back from you.” He maintained his hold around my neck but relaxed it enough so I could talk.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” My stomach heaved from the near strangulation, and I tried to keep it together. My safety was contingent upon the journal staying hidden. Once he had it in his possession, I would be expendable.