The Night Parade(112)

“Put the gun down and you can go be with her,” Gany said.

David knelt and set the pistol down at his feet.

“In the house,” said Jumpsuit, coming up the porch steps.

Gany stepped aside and Tim went through the door. David followed.

They were shepherded into the living room, where Ellie was sitting on the sofa. As David came into the room, Ellie jumped up and rushed to him, wrapping her arms around him. He kissed the top of her head.

Gany, Jumpsuit, and Bandanna came into the room. Jumpsuit handed his rifle to Bandanna, and the instant the gun was out of his hands, a broad smile filled his face. He motioned to the sofa. “Why don’t the three of you have a seat.”

No one moved.

Jumpsuit’s smile fell away. “Sit down.”

They sat, Ellie wedged between them on the sofa. David kept an arm around her.

“So, you’re Tim,” Jumpsuit said, the broad smile returning. “Heard a lot about you.”

“Who the f*ck are you?” Tim growled.

“That’s not important. What’s important is this little lady right here.” Jumpsuit fixed his gaze on Ellie. He took a step toward her and bent at the knees to meet her eyes. “Hello, darling.”

Ellie quaked and David squeezed her against him.

“I heard tell that you possess some rather unusual abilities, sweetheart,” said Jumpsuit.

David looked at Gany. “What’d you tell them?”

Gany returned his stare but didn’t respond. She held the shotgun on him.

“There’ve been rumors circulating the underground about people who’ve been displaying some unique talents lately,” Jumpsuit continued. That smile was still firmly etched onto his face. This close, and in the soft light of the living room, David could see a puckered pink scar traversing the left side of his face, from temple to the lower corner of his jaw. “Some say there’s folks out there can actually heal the sick. Can you imagine?”

Jumpsuit reached out as if to caress the side of Ellie’s face, but David slapped his hand away before he could manage it. Without missing a beat, the guy in the bandanna had his pistol out of its holster and pointed it at David.

“Don’t you touch her,” David warned him.

Jumpsuit stood and raised both hands, as if to show that he’d meant no harm by the gesture. He kept his eyes on Ellie.

“Gany says she witnessed you doing a little magic of your own, sweetheart,” Jumpsuit said. “Tried to help a dying girl out on some highway. Is this true?”

Ellie said nothing.

“You try and save some girl’s life?”

“No,” Ellie said curtly.

Jumpsuit’s eyebrows arched. “No?” he said. “Then what was it you did out there?”

“I just made her feel better so she didn’t suffer.”

“She touched her,” Gany said, “and the girl just calmed down. She touched the mother, too. And when we went back to the car, she held my hand and it . . . it was like I could still feel it going on inside her. It made my knees weak. It was like magic.”

“Is that what you do?” Jumpsuit said. He bent down on his knees now so that he was face-to-face with Ellie. “You touch people and make them feel better?”

“Yes.”

“Can you heal the sick?”

“No.”

“I’ll bet you can,” said Jumpsuit, “only you just don’t know it yet.” He extended his hand, palm-up. There was grit beneath his fingernails. “Go on,” he said. “Touch me. Let me see what you can do.”

Ellie looked at David. Despite a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach, he nodded for her to go ahead.

Ellie reached out and placed her hand atop Jumpsuit’s open palm. Her pale flesh against his olive skin made her look like a ghost. Jumpsuit’s fingers closed around Ellie’s hand, his eyes locked onto hers.

At first, nothing happened. But then Jumpsuit’s smile faltered. His eyes widened, as if in surprise.

“You’re nervous,” Ellie said. “You’re acting tough on the outside, but on the inside, you’re scared.”

David thought he saw doubt briefly pass over Jumpsuit’s face.

And then it was like some great vacuum had sucked the air out of the room. The hairs on David’s arms stood up, and he could tell, judging by the looks on everyone else’s faces, that they felt it, too. The air had become charged with some preternatural energy.

“Your name is Aaron Kahle,” Ellie said.

“Jesus f*ck,” said Aaron Kahle. That smile returned, but it wasn’t just for show anymore—there was genuine awe there, an unmasked incredulity. He turned to Gany and said, “Touching her, it’s like a sedative. It’s . . . it’s almost euphoric.” He turned back to Ellie. “What else can you tell just from touching me?”

“That you’re not a nice man,” Ellie said. “That you’ve hurt people. You’ve killed them.”

Kahle quickly withdrew his hand, that wolfish smile morphing into a grimace. The moment he did so, David could suddenly breathe again; the hairs on his arms relaxed. Kahle held his hand up before his eyes, as if to see if she’d left behind any marks, any side effects. He flexed the fingers, wiggled them. Made a fist. Then he lowered his hand and leaned closer to Ellie.