Do Not Go Gentle by James W. Jorgensen Read Free Book Online

Marie—I owe you.”
    â€œYeah, yeah, Griffin. I’ll add it to the sizeable tab you’ve already run up with me.”
    â€œI’m good for it.”
    Jamie clicked off his cell phone and logged in to the police database to search for any other cases that might have noted this symbol. He had been at the search for a few minutes when he could no longer keep his head erect. The pain behind his eyes started to feel like someone was shoving in an ice pick. Jamie put the laptop on the floor and lay down flat on the sectional, with Finn curling in beside his legs.
I just need to rest a bit.
    When Jamie awoke, he was disoriented and groggy.
What the hell time is it?
He sat up, and the room spun around madly, causing him to place his hands on either side of himself to keep from falling. He glanced at the clock and was dismayed to see that it was mid-afternoon.
Jaysus. I’ve been asleep for hours and
still
feel like crap.
    Jamie got up and staggered to the bathroom, got some 7-Up from the refrigerator, then wove his way back to the sectional, the dog following along like a second shadow. Jamie set his soda on the end table then fell onto the sectional again.
I just need to get some more rest. This feckin’ flu bug is kicking my ass right now, but I’ll get over it soon enough. I always do.
    The thought had no sooner passed through Jamie’s mind than the image from his nightmare the other morning came blowing in to shatter his confidence.
What if I
don’t
get better? What if that’s what the nightmare was trying to tell me?
Jamie turned this thought over in his mind for several seconds, and then dismissed it.
Nah, that’s the kind of stuff Cushing and Hanover believe in. It was just a nightmare, nothing more, nothing less.
Still, as Jamie settled back to try to get some more rest, his heart was heavy and a bitter taste filled his mouth.
    * * * *
    Sedecla awoke to reddish, dawn light flooding through her windows.
What is the old saying? Red sky at night, sailor’s delight. Red sky at morning, sailors take warning.
Sedecla stretched back and forth in bed. While she could see Old North Church and Boston Harbor from the windows of her top-floor living quarters, Sedecla could not see the ocean.
It has been too long since I last sailed upon the water. Far longer since I have sailed upon the Mediterranean, the waters of my youth.
Clad in a simple purple chemise, Sedecla arose and walked to the window that faced the harbor. She appeared to be about thirty, with dark skin and hair and a slim figure.
Perhaps we shall go sailing today.
    She was just completing her morning workout, a strenuous routine that took her through all movements of the seven categories of the Abir fighting technique, when she heard her door open. Sedecla turned to see her maidservant enter. Afya was the latest in a long line of Sedecla’s maidservants. She was twenty years old, of average height and weight, dark skin and hair. “Is my Mistress ready to prepare for the day?” Afya had her eyes downcast and hands spread.
    â€œYes. Attend me.” Sedecla moved into her private bath and allowed Afya to bathe her, comb and braid her hair, and dress her for the day. Sedecla’s fashion tastes were simple: a dark red and brown tunic, which was made of expensive material, and a gold belt. The only jewelry she wore was a black ring she wore on the ring finger of her left hand.
    After dressing, Sedecla descended a wide spiral staircase, with Afya trailing behind at a respectful distance. The staircase wound down to her private offices on the next floor and then to her main living quarters. Her private offices occupied the entire third floor of her building, just as her bedroom, bath, and exercise space comprised the top floor. The second floor consisted of a gourmet kitchen, dining room, formal living room, study, and home theater. All rooms featured restored brick on the outer walls, golden oak or tile