JAMES
Rain fell in sheets of ice, but I had no choice but to head out in it. Cabs were as rare as a McDonald’s hamburger in this district. I shoved my arms into my coat and flicked the collar up, then struck out toward home.
I didn’t know when it happened, or how - maybe because I kept my eyes glued onto the sidewalk under my feet - but my autopilot did not work. When I finally took notice of my surroundings, I found myself on the cul-de-sac with the church I’d visited the other night. The priest stood in the doorway and waved at me.
I nodded but turned away. I didn’t need confession today. I needed an otherworldly hit man - someone who could take Helena out, once and for all.
“Son! Young man!” The priest’s voice cut through the rain and begged me to turn back, to obey him. He had to be only a few years older than me - okay, maybe twenty-six or - seven, but still. I ignored him.