The Valley and the Flood by Rebecca Mahoney (10 best books of all time TXT) 📗

vision, at first. And then she fades into the woman opposite me. Same sweater set. Same lipstick. Looking so much more like her mother than I think she’d want to believe.

“Well?” Maggie Williams says.

She looks confident—which means she didn’t see what I did. Judging by a quick look around the auditorium, the Flood only showed it to me. But I smile. Not only because I see her, really see her now. But because back in the hallway, I asked the Flood to do anything they could to buy us some time.

And this, I can use.

“I don’t know, Mags,” I say. “Is it fair that you’ve made your childhood trauma our problem?”

Under the layer of makeup, I can see her go white. “Excuse me?”

“What’s the plan?” I say. “Make this place normal, bit by bit? Hope that it’ll make you normal, too? Because pretty soon you’re not going to have a town to force your issues on.”

“Th-this is—” Maggie rounds on Christie. “Are you just going to let her—”

Christie beams, leaning back against the wall. “Yup.”

I never understood why Gaby liked picking fights. I’d asked her about it once. I don’t really like fighting, Gaby had said with a shrug. I like telling people about themselves.

I take a step toward Maggie. She rocks back on her heels. “I heard what you told John Jonas. That you saw a future where your abilities controlled this town,” I say. “That came true. You made it true. All these people are here tonight because what you can do scares you.”

“That’s not—” She whirls on the audience. “She knows she’s got no one but herself to—”

“Trust me, I’ve got plenty of blame for myself.” I almost waver. But I’ve come too far for that. “I am dangerous. But I’m not the only one. And if you’ve chosen not to help us just because you want to be normal? Whatever happens tomorrow is on you, too.”

“Enough of this!” Maggie’s voice breaks on the last word. Beyond her, I can see my words working their way through the crowd. “There is one reason and one reason alone why we’re all here, and it’s time we deal with the person responsible!”

“She’s not responsible!” Deputy Jay blurts out.

The whole auditorium turns to Jay. He’s been so quiet all night, I’d forgotten he was there.

“She didn’t choose this,” Jay says The words come slow, like they take effort. “There’s something you don’t know. Something I . . .”

The crowd looks baffled. Even Maggie. No one in our corner of the stage does.

“I’m sorry, Cassie.” Tears pool in his eyes as, for the first time, he looks at her. “You trusted me with this. No one’s ever done that before. And I . . .”

“What.” Cassie doesn’t sound angry. Or disappointed. Just final. “What did you do.”

“I never meant to say it,” he whispers. “It just happened.”

Twenty-Three THE NIGHT IN QUESTION

I HADN’T SEEN Christie Jones angry before. I’m pretty sure I could have done without it.

“And,” she says, in the silence after Jay stumbles through his explanation. It’s deadly calm, but I can see Rudy scrabbling at the corners of her shadow. I think if we weren’t in front of a crowd, she might be tempted to let him go. “You don’t remember anything.”

“I’m sorry.” Jay’s lower lip is wobbling. He’s so obviously crushed, it’s hard to look at him. “They kept buying me drinks. I know it was someone I knew but—”

“You’re the sheriff’s deputy.” Christie’s voice goes thinner. Next to me, even Cassie flinches. “You know everybody.”

“I didn’t tell them everything.” His voice drops to a whisper. “I just remember wondering what I was going to see. I was so worried I said too much, but I didn’t think anyone would figure it out from just that—”

“I’m not sure I understand.” An elderly woman in the crowd raises her hand. “You’re telling us that this flood will bring back people we’ve lost?”

“It’s not like that.” I’m calm. I think I’m calm. But whatever Alex hears in my voice makes him touch my arm. “You don’t get to choose what comes to you. And even when—even when it’s what you want to see—you can see them, and you can hear them, but they’re not there. It’s worse, I think, than if they weren’t there at all.”

“But someone in this room has decided that it’s worth the risk,” Christie says. “That this town, and maybe even their own safety, is a worthy trade for even an echo of what they’ve lost. And if they won’t come forward and tell us what they know, then we need to find them.”

“So what do you want us to do?” Loreen says. “Or whatever.”

There’s a murmur of agreement. A stronger one than I expected.

“Well,” the Mockingbird says. Her voice is Mom’s again. “You should start by interviewing every woman in this room.”

“Woman?” I echo.

There’s a quick, confusing shuffling across the room—some turn to look at each other, and others turn to us. Felix, with a little triumphant laugh, gets there first. “You do remember what they looked like!”

The Mockingbird’s laugh is a rolling sound, like thunder. “Apologies, clever one. I didn’t trust before that you had my friend’s best interests at heart. I’m afraid I don’t have the eyesight that you humans do. But I can spot a lie from across this desert. My client identified herself as a woman. I did not detect that she was lying.”

“Then I’m sorry to have to do this,” Christie says. “I know you’ve all got packing to do, and I’ll have you out of here as quickly as possible. But I’ll need every woman in this room to stay behind.”

Shockingly, there’s another murmur of agreement. But this one isn’t unanimous. “You can’t know she’s here,” one man calls out.

“Oh, she’s here,” the Mockingbird says. “I doubt I’d recognize her, Madam Sheriff. Your scents are all so tangled now. But I can feel it in this room. That absence of fear.”

She lets that sit for a moment. I