The Chronicles of the 8th Dimension - Limited Edition Box Set (4 Books): A Supernatural Thriller Box Set

by Carissa Andrews

  “Ever think of decorating a bit?” I mutter.

  “Why?” Blake says, raising an eyebrow.

  A young man, no older than twenty bounds around the corner. His shaggy brown hair reminds me of a sheep dog, the way he has to toss his head to the side to see.

  “Heya, Blake. I got all the specs pulled up,” he says, grinning from ear to ear. “Ready when you are.”

  The young man’s eyes bounce from Blake, to me, and back to Blake.

  “Great,” Blake says, walking out of the entryway and down the hall Aiden came from.

  The two of us stand together in the entryway staring at each other for a long, awkward moment.

  “Hi, I’m Aiden,” the kid finally says, holding out a hand.

  I look down at his outstretched limb and take a second to decide if I want to follow through with the mundane ritual. His blue eyes latch on me expectantly, so I take his hand in return.

  “Diana,” I say as our hands lock.

  Before I can catch a breath, Aiden as a young child floods my consciousness. He’s no more than eight himself, playing with a toy robot. In the room with him, adults talk in hushed whispers. They all think he’s too young to be alone in this world. His parents are dead and there’s no one left to take him. They need to find a solution, poor boy. Without hesitation, Blake offers himself, his home, and opens his life to an unexpected single-fatherhood, despite having only been in the special forces for a year and a half.

  The vision is ripped from me as Aiden removes his hand.

  I step back, surprised. Not only for the insight of Blake and Aiden’s interesting dynamic, but by the selflessness of Blake’s actions. It doesn’t jive at all with the man I’ve met thus far.

  Aiden’s eyebrows tug in as he eyes me curiously.

  “Uh, let’s head this way,” he says, putting his hands behind his back as he walks out after Blake.

  Suddenly left alone in the entryway, I take a final glance around, then follow after. By the time I reach the hallway, both men have disappeared, so I follow the sound of their voices to pinpoint their location. Ordinarily, I’d have gotten far more details with my abilities by now. My gifts would have told me how long Blake has been here, why he did what he did for Aiden—hell, how often he brushes his teeth, works out, or has sex. But, just like the starkness of his home, nothing.

  Everything is utterly, completely, blissfully, silent.

  Even details surrounding Aiden seem to be short-lived and limited.

  As I round the corner to where the men’s voices are the loudest, I notice an open doorway—the only room adorned with things on the walls. Stopping for a moment to have a better look, I’m abruptly cut off as Blake rushes past me and closes the door right in my face.

  “Er—that’s private,” he says, his eyes shifting from me to the door and back again. “We’re this way.”

  Blake turns my shoulders to square up with the walkway and gently nudges me along.

  “What are you hiding back in there?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.

  “Nothing, it’s just—nothing you have to worry about. Has nothing to do with the case,” he says.

  “Ah, so is it a sex dungeon, or your ‘My Little Pony’ collection?” I say, raising an eyebrow.

  Blake’s left eyebrow quirks upward.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” he says, ushering me into the next room.

  “I vote My Little Pony collection,” Aiden chimes in.

  Blake rolls his eyes.

  I stop abruptly, surprised by the sheer amount of technology crammed into the twelve-foot-by-twelve-foot space.

  “Wow,” I say, my eyes opening wide.

  “Yeah, ya see why we don’t leave this kinda thing to the cops?” Blake says, smirking.

  On the wall directly in front of me is a large monitor with a satellite view of the Mississippi River and each of the houses along the route flash brightly. Beside it are three more screens, all operating on their own, searching for something I wouldn’t even have the first guess at.

  “Okay, Diana, we need you to help us narrow down where along the river you think you’re seeing Esther. Was there anything that stood out about the house?” Blake asks, his face serious, and his stance wide. “Right now, we have more than four-hundred homes along the shore and there’s no way in hell we’re knocking door-to-door.”

  I take a step forward and nod.

  “Uh, yeah, actually. It was an older home, but not so old you’d think the creep would be holding a little girl against her will in there. It was blue outside with white shutters—and had an early eighties vibe inside. Orange shag carpet kinda stuff,” I say, remembering back to the vision.

  “Good start,” Blake says, turning to Aiden.

  “On it,” Aiden mutters, turning to his keyboard. His fingers fly expertly and within seconds lights along the river go out. Another moment later, five homes load on the monitors in sequence, each showing the front face of a blue home with white shutters.

  “Holy shit,” I mutter under my breath.

  That was fast. Like, blink and you’ll miss it kinda fast.

  The irony of how similar technology has become to my abilities is not lost on me. A shudder skitters down my spine. Technology creeps the hell outta me.

  No wonder some people don’t want to believe in psychics.

  “Any of these?” Blake asks, intensity rolling off of him in waves as he points to the screens.

  I take another step forward, peering at the monitors.

  “Yep, that one,” I say, raising my arm, and touching the one on the bottom left.

  Aiden whimpers, “Please don’t touch the screens.”

  He gets up, grabbing a small black cloth and wipes furiously.

  I back away and stifle a small chuckle.

  “You sure?” Blake says, his dark eyes monitoring my every movement.

  “Dead sure,” I say, returning his intensity.

  Blake turns on his heels and heads out the door.

  “Stay here with Aiden,” he calls out over his shoulder.

  “Uh, what? Like hell I am,” I say, rushing after him. “I’m coming with you.”

  Near the front door, Blake stops dead and squares up with me, “What kind of training do you have?”

  His eyes are deep, dark pools of serious desperation. There’s something hidden there—something buried deep and separate from this case. If my abilities were working with him I’d know instantly what he was trying to hide.

  I blink back in surprise, “I, uh…”

  “That’s what I thought. Stay here and leave this to me. You’ve done your bit, assuming you’re telling the truth. Aiden’s already calling in backup. The last thing I need is you getting in the way—or worse, getting yourself into trouble. I’ll have enough to worry about going in.”

  Suddenly, my brain kicks back in.

  Who the hell does he think he is?

  I’m freaking Diana Hawthorne. I’m not some pretty face incapable of handling myself. I’ve seen more than this man will ever witness in all his years—and then some.

  “Look, Blake, I may not have any specialized training I’m assuming you’ve undergone, but I’ve assisted on over a dozen cases in the past two years alone. All of them ended up with good results because I was with them. I don’t need you to save me, or worry about me. I can handle myself. But Esther—I can help you locate her. I’ve seen where she’s playing—where he’s hiding her,” I say, grabbing his arm. “What if you get there and it’s not obvious? And I’m sure as hell you don’t have a warrant to search the premises—unless you happen to have a cop in your back pocket. I can get the dude to invite us in and never even know what hit him.”

  Blake looks down at my white knuckled grasp clutched across his forearm, and sighs.

  “You’re not gonna take no for an answer, are you?”

  “Nope,” I say, jutting out my chin.

  “Fine,” he concedes, “you can come with—but you’ll stay in the Rove
r until I need you. Got it?”

  “Whatever you say,” I say, nodding and holding my hands up.

  What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Right?

  “Change of plans Aiden—she’s coming with,” Blake calls out as he opens the front door.

  His eyes flit back to me as concern creeps across his features.

  In the distance, Aiden calls back, “Got it.”

  Grinning, I march out the door and head back to the front seat of the Range Rover.

  Blake slides in the driver’s seat, turning the vehicle on, and plugging in coordinates into his in-dash GPS. Within seconds, the vehicle is in motion—swerving along the curvy drive with ease. His focus reminds me of my own.

  The confusion from earlier is waning and my senses heighten, as they always do when I’m helping with a case. Of course, I’ll probably sleep for days after we’re done—but it will be worth it if we can find the little girl before anything truly bad happens.

  I can’t imagine the kind of hell she’d have to deal with if we fail.

  Turning to Blake, I whisper, “Who was it?”

  “Excuse me?” he says, not taking his eyes off the road.

  I eye his every move, trying to figure him out. It’s curious—I’ve never had to read someone solely based on body language before. It’s an interesting, almost refreshing twist.

  He shifts in his seat.

  “Who did you lose?” I ask.

  Even though I got the details about Aiden’s parents, I’m not certain that’s the entirety of it.

  Blake snorts, “What makes you think I lost anyone?”

  He shoots me a sideways glance, but again his perfect little ass shifts in the seat.

  “Hmmm,” I mutter.

  “Hmmm? What’s hmmm?”

  I shrug, casting my gaze out to the road in front of us. Trees fly by far faster than they should, as he presses the limit on how quickly we should maneuver the bends.

  “You’re an odd one for me,” I finally admit. “On one hand, I can’t get a read on you—but on another, I get these impressions. Just calculated guesses really because they’re not based on my insights—or gifts. Whatever you want to call it. Christ, is that how you have to go through your life? Watching for patterns and making guesses, hoping they’ll pay off?”

  “Huh, never thought of it that way before,” he says, his lips tugging downward as his eyebrows flip up.

  “It’s excruciating,” I whisper.

  “C’mon. You’re telling me you’ve never had to make a calculated guess before?” he snorts. “I’m sure even self-proclaimed psychics have their moments.”

  I shake my head, letting the snide remark slide.

  “No—never for the things that mattered. I’ve always been able to see the past, present, and future accurately.”

  Well, okay, that’s a lie.

  The only other blind spot has been my past, but we won’t get into that.

  “Never? Then why would I be so different?” he asks, glancing to me.

  “No idea. To be honest, it’s kinda annoying. I don’t know if it’s me—if my abilities are on the fritz, or if it’s you. Just you. You know? Have you warded yourself?” I ask.

  He throws a glance my direction and snickers.

  “Like, with witchcraft and stuff?”

  “Sure, if you wanna be an ass about it,” I say, throwing my hands up in exasperation.

  “Well, c’mon. Wards? Are you even using English?”

  “It means using something to protect yourself from being read. Well, in the reference I’m using it, anyway. You can call it magic or witchcraft if you want. It’s another form of energy work,” I say, biting my lip.

  “Nope. No warding happening here. Just me, in all my ordinary glory,” he chuckles.

  “So weird,” I mutter, shaking my head.

  “Well, so far, supposedly you’ve been able to see other stuff pretty well, right? Until it happens more frequently—don’t worry. I’d consider it an isolated incident. Then again, that’s just me,” he shrugs.

  The Rover swerves to the left and I have to put my hand out to avoid smacking into the door.

  “Nearly there,” Blake says, more for himself than me. Even without the GPS dictating our course, I can sense we’re getting closer.

  Such a weird sensation—it’s a tingling playing at the back of my neck, like someone’s there, breathing against my skin.

  Perhaps Blake’s right—maybe it’s a completely isolated event. It seems that way so far, at any rate.

  All I know is, when this is all over, I’ll need to do some heavy-duty chakra clearing…

  A couple of blocks away from the eighties-style house—or maybe it’s a cabin, Blake slows the vehicle down to a normal speed. His facial expressions flits back and forth, as he works out exactly how to go about things. I watch him, enthralled despite myself. Ordinarily, in this close proximity, I’d be hearing snippets of everything—unless I specifically warded my own mind from the barrage.

  Finally, he parks the car in the driveway and cuts the lights.

  “You sure this’s the place?” he asks, turning back to me.

  In the light of the waxing moon, the house stands nearly silent. Only a single sign of life inside is evident; the television set in the living room as it flickers with the commotion of whatever the man’s watching. He’s on the edge of drifting off to sleep; cheap whiskey the culprit at this early hour. My eyes flit to the clock—it’s just barely gone 9:00pm.

  I nod, taking a deep breath.

  “Alright—stay here. Trust me, I’ve got this covered,” Blake says. “It’s not my first rodeo.”

  Before he can exit the Rover, glimpses of the Esther asleep inside the cabin flood in. She’s clutching a tattered teddy bear—it’s not hers, but it reminds her of home. The puppy is curled up beside her. The space is tiny—but the sound of the TV creeps into the small enclosure in muffled bursts.

  “Blake,” I call out before the door closes.

  “Yeah?” he says, twisting to look inside the vehicle.

  “She’s in there—in a small room. Maybe a closet?”

  His lips press into a thin line, and he nods. “She’s okay, though. Right? Alive?”

  I nod.

  With a tip of his head, Blake closes the door and saunters up to the front entry. Despite myself, I’m mesmerized by his walk.

  Damn, those jeans definitely suit him.

  I run my hands over my face and close my eyes.

  Get a grip, Diana. This is the same jerk who pushed you into the puddle and stormed your house.

  Blake knocks on the door, and after a moment, a light flicks on in the entryway. A second or two later, an older man—nearly seventy by the looks of it—opens the door. His grey hair is matted against his forehead, and he looks as though he hasn’t changed his dirty grey shirt in days.

  The man’s got a gun stashed nearby and isn’t too keen on strangers. Especially ones who knock on his door as night is falling. Especially pickup nights.

  Reaching for the handle of the Rover, I pull up short. Something must have been said to appease the man’s initial skepticism, because he opens the door wider and let’s Blake inside. He doesn’t look back my way at all, just waltzes straight in.

  The moment the front door is closed, mine is open, and I’m on my feet.

  I don’t care how much this Blake guy thinks he has this under control—I’m not about to sit this one out. A little girl’s life depends on it.

  Chapter 4

  FOLLOWING MY INTERNAL GUIDANCE, I creep from the Range Rover to the back side of the house. With Blake occupying the creep inside, I should be able to slip in and out with Esther relatively easily. In fact, I’d wager it’ll be done way faster than Blake trying to fumble around in whatever manhandling kinda way he’s used to.

  Thanks to Blake’s stunt earlier on his own front door, I check the handle on the back door—finding it unlocked. Images of sleeping children with pillowcases placed over their h
eads barrage my mind, but I push past them and shut their assault down. There will be time to deal, and make this monster suffer. Just…not yet.

  Holding my breath, I slip quietly inside.

  After all of these years, one thing I’ve learned to do well is sneak about unnoticed. Call it another one of my gifts, if you want.

  The stench of alcohol and decomposing food assaults my senses as I enter the kitchen. Certainly a stark contrast to the outside appearance. Pieces of the laminated floor are missing, and others are peeling up in large chunks. It doesn’t look as though anything has been cleaned for years. Beyond the grungy kitchen, Blake and the man are discussing something in hushed voices.

  I try to reach out, to get a better idea of his plan, as well as try to anticipate their next movements. Unfortunately, whatever block I have with Blake influences everything going on in the other room.

  Talk about inconvenient.

  Training my ears their direction, my eyes flit from wall to wall as I search for the hidden doorway from my vision. Rather than focusing on the men, I take a moment, trying to train my senses on Esther—using her as a needle; telling me whether or not I’m getting close.

  I close my eyes and broaden my awareness so it blankets the house—searching each crevice and corner. It settles on the wall in the main hallway, separating the living room from the rest of the house with a large staircase. She’s under the stairs. Of course, he’s kept her close.

  I tiptoe closer, scanning the wall on this side of the hallway for the hidden doorway—but it’s no use. I’m pretty sure it’s on the other side—where, of course, the men are.

  “There are a lot of crazies out this way, to be sure,” Blake’s voice filters to my ears. “Glad to hear you’re staying safe.”

  “Yeah, I dunno about none o’ that, but I ‘preciate ya stomping—er, stopping in,” the man says, his words garbled and slurred.

  A small scuffle shudders through the hall as someone gets out of a chair in the other room.

  “Mind if I use your bathroom quick? Gotta take a piss,” Blake says.

  I take a step closer. If the man shows him where the bathroom is, maybe—just maybe—I’ll have access to the living room long enough to get Esther out.