Seven Bridges

by Ciana Stone

  "You don't like what you're wearing?"

  "It's not the impression I want to make if you don't mind."

  "Then what impression do you want to make on people who already know you?"

  "That today's Izzi might still be a little woo woo, a bit bohemian, and a lot outspoken, but she also holds two doctorates, teaches top law enforcement professionals, and is quite serious about the work at hand."

  "I don't think they've forgotten your qualifications, Iz."

  "Maybe, but you have to admit that my appearance has a strange effect on people. They tend to forget what I know and focus on my looks. I expect it from strangers and often use it to my advantage. I don't want it to always be that way with the people on your team, and when I worked as a consultant before, I felt most of them never got beyond my appearance.

  "So, I decided I would change things a bit, and now when I lecture or work with law enforcement, I dress in a kind of a modified professional style. It gets immediate attention, but also allows people to move past appearance and accept me on a more mainstream level."

  Gib chuckled and then grinned at her. "I can't wait to see what that looks like."

  She returned the smile. "Smartass."

  Suddenly it felt good to be there, preparing to work with him, and seeing the smile reach his eyes. She'd forgotten how much that fortified her spirit. She'd not forgotten that she loved him, but when he smiled that way…

  The romantic side of her nature that she kept hidden give a silent little sigh. When he smiled that way, it was hard not to fall in love with him all over again.

  Chapter Eight

  He raised his face to the sun, closed his eyes, and smiled at the feel of golden light on his skin.

  Today was a pivotal day. Today marked the beginning of a change in more than merely his life. Today, the die was cast. There was no going back for any of them. Not that he wanted to go back. He had been working toward this day for years.

  To his disappointment manipulating the BAU had been far less of a challenge than he'd imagined. Gibson Foster, the Special Agent in Charge, had done exactly as hoped. He'd gone straight to Isabelle.

  Ah, Isabelle.

  Longing filled him at the thought of her. How long would he let her cling to her illusions, to believe she could turn her back on him, keep him from sensing her presence? She'd put so much effort into shutting him out. He felt a certain amount of pride in her limited success.

  She was quite remarkable.

  But not yet perfect.

  She could be. Would be. As soon as she was his to keep forever.

  His eyes opened as need clutched painfully, shortening his breath and making him ache. Sometimes waiting was excruciating; the need for her was so great. It had started to become too much to bear. He'd waited long enough. The time had come for him to finally claim what was his.

  It was time for her to remember and understand that she belonged to him.

  The memory of their meeting took control, sweeping him back in time. With a sigh, he allowed himself to be taken by the memory. He sank down onto the warm planks of wood of the boat dock that stretched out into the small cove of still water, closed his eyes, and in the space of a heartbeat was there.

  Dust motes danced in the night breeze, illuminated like glowing dots as the moonlight from the window slanted across the room, casting it in stark contrasts of light and shadow. In the light of day, this room would be nothing more than a child's bedroom.

  Tonight, it was hallowed ground, consecrated in blood and tears, in pleas for mercy that were ignored, screams for compassion that were disregarded. It was a place of learning for him, only the third time he'd been allowed to participate. A rite of passage and one he was determined to not only live up to but to prove himself ready for a more active role.

  The children on the floor struggled in vain as their mother was brutalized. He could feel their fear and desperation to escape as he knelt with one knee on the boy's back, and his hands tightened into fists in the child's hair.

  The boy showed far more fear than the girl. He sobbed, wet his pants, and pleaded for his life. The girl screamed, but it was as much in anger as fear. She shouted at his mentor to stop beating her mother's head into the floor. He smiled and complied.

  Then he killed her mother. Stabbed her in the chest and cut her heart from her body as she screamed in agony. The sounds that emerged from her lips were inhuman. No, sacrosanct. Such sublime torment. It gave him an erection, and for a moment, he considered ripping the child's pants off and stabbing inside his tender flesh.

  But he'd not been given permission to do anything but observe. So, he remained silent and watchful. Finally, his mentor tossed the knife aside and jammed his hand into the woman. He tugged and pulled, and blood went everywhere, and when his hand came free, something was in it. Something that more than filled his hand. He turned to look at the children and said, "Do you know what this is?"

  The boy whimpered and soiled himself again. The girl was silent and still, even when he picked up the discarded knife and moved across the room. He kicked aside the rocking horse, that flimsy bit of wood the foolish children thought would hide them. Then he knelt in front of us. I yanked hard on the boy's hair, bending him backward so that my mentor's hands were directly in front of them.

  He smiled and spoke to the girl. "Your mother's heart. Look. It's the last thing you'll ever see."

  It was a moment he wished he could encase in resin, like the flowers you see in a trinket shop, forever preserved. He wanted to be the master. Wanted to know the ecstasy as the mentor shoved the woman's heart against the little girl's face, smearing it all over her.

  He watched with every mounting excitement as his mentor quickly struck out with the knife.

  Blood blossomed from the boy's throat.

  For a few seconds, there were gurgling sounds that erupted from him. His body spasmed several times and then went still.

  "I will kill you!" the girl screamed and struggled

  The mentor laughed and gave an order. "Hold her very still."

  There was no hesitation in obeying. One she was imprisoned with hands on either side of her head, pulling it back even more, he started with the knife. How precise he was. One diagonal cut across each of her eyes. It was a thing of beauty, a moment so perfect, it was an honor to bear witness.

  Then he smiled and stood. "I'll leave you to finish up here. End her and meet me outside."

  What elation.

  The mentor was going to allow him to participate. This was the moment he'd waited for his entire life. He stood and jerked the girl to her feet.

  Thanks to the ropes binding her hands behind her, and holding her ankles in a crossed position, she was in no position to fight.

  What happened next was to be the moment that changed his life forever. The part of him that was the strongest, turned her toward the light, revealing the paleness of her skin, so white beneath the blood from her mother's heart, and her own blood that poured from her once warm-brown eyes. Her breath was fast, and when he put a hand on her chest, he could feel the rapid pounding of her heart.

  He knew she was afraid, yet she didn't scream. "Go ahead. Kill me."

  That's when he realized. He didn't want her dead. He wanted her. So rather than finish what the mentor had started, for the first time ever, an act of disobedience was enacted. He leaned in close to her ear. "What's your name?"

  "Isabelle."

  "Isabelle." He liked the taste of her name on his lips, the feel of it. "You're mine. Do you understand that? I can kill you, or I can let you live. It's up to you. What do you want, Isabelle?"

  "To kill you."

  That delighted him.

  If she lusted for his blood, then she could be taught to lust for the blood of others. He could become a master.

  That had been his goal for years.

  She would help him become what he desired.

  "Listen to me, Isabelle. I'm going to let you live. But only if you do exactly what I
tell you. Do you understand?"

  Her nod was enough.

  He pulled back and spoke softly.

  "Open your mouth."

  He was honestly surprised when she complied, but very excited. He opened his own mouth and extended his tongue and slowly kissed her. She didn't move, didn't protest, or flinch as he put his tongue in her mouth.

  It was divine. So much that he wanted more. She didn't fight him as he ripped away the her clothing. She was so young, far from becoming a woman. Still, he wanted to be her first and so he took her, finding delight in her pain. When he ejaculated, he clutched her to him.

  "You're mine now, Isabelle. My special girl, my one true love. Do you understand?"

  "No."

  "You will. Listen to me. I'm going to leave, and you're going to forget. There was a man here. A man all in black. Just one man. Do you understand."

  "No."

  He repeated it.

  "If you remember it any other way, we'll come back. And we'll do to your daddy what we did to your mommy. We'll do it to anyone and everyone you care about. Do you understand now?"

  There was a long moment before she answered. "Yes."

  "Tell me what happened here, Isabelle?"

  "A man was here. He did this. A man in black."

  "Very good," he kissed her again, happy that she didn't fight it. "I'll see you again, Isabelle. When the time is right, I'll come for you."

  She nodded, and he shoved her back down on the floor. "Don't make a sound or move."

  There was no response.

  He snapped back to the present. She'd kept her word. She never told anyone about him being there. Was that because she knew in her heart she belonged to him, or had she blocked out all memory of him?

  He'd never gotten an answer to that question. Not even when he had her locked in the cage.

  But he would. Very soon, he would.

  Quantico, Virginia

  Galen refilled his coffee cup and walked over to where Leo stood at the conference table, looking over Fiona Metcalf's shoulder, at the laptop sitting on the table in front of her. Fiona had eighteen years in with the Bureau, fifteen with the BAU as a criminal profiler, and had earned a reputation as one of the best.

  "Crime scene photos?" Galen asked.

  "Yes." She cut a look over her shoulder at him. "The latest Cheerleader shooting. Whoever this shooter is, he's good."

  "How good?"

  "Military-trained-good would be my guess. Say, has anyone heard from Gib?"

  "I talked to him about twenty minutes ago," Leo replied. "He said they were on their way in."

  That statement drew the attention of everyone in the room. Tamara Baker, a twenty-seven-year-old MIT graduate, specializing in data analysis and a top researcher, got up from where she sat across the room at one of the consoles and walked over to the table. "So, is he bringing the consultant?"

  "And is she a genuine psychic?" Dennis Brock, the youngest member of the team at twenty-six, asked.

  "She holds two doctorates. One in criminal psychology and another in parapsychology," Leo answered the question. "And yes, she's a genuine psychic."

  "So, you know her?" Dennis asked.

  He and Tamara had not yet joined the team when Isabelle Adams worked as a consultant. They only became part of the BAU during the last year.

  "Yes. Galen, Fiona, and I have worked with her before."

  "What's she like?" Tamara asked.

  "See for yourself," Galen nodded toward the door.

  Everyone turned as Gib opened the door and held it for Dr. Adams.

  "Whoa," Dennis whispered under his breath.

  Leo silently echoed that sentiment. It was or had been, Izzi's style to dress in a hippie fashion, natural fabrics, flowing skirts with peasant tops and belts made of woven hemp rope or knotted cotton. Her jewelry was typically of silver and gemstones, and her shoes were never leather.

  Her style made her stand out, but in a manner that gave the impression she was the grandchild of some of the original Woodstock hippies who'd cross-bred with the Fae. Today, the fairy hippie child was gone. In its place was a woman who would literally stop traffic.

  Izzi stopped and looked around the room, then removed the hooded blood-red cloak, revealing her outfit, one that came as a surprise to Leo.

  The waist-length cascade of white hair had been cut in layers, still long but framing her face in a manner similar to the pixie style she'd worn when he first met her. Her eyebrows and eyelashes were still dark and thick, and her skin as creamy as when she was seventeen.

  Today her clothing said one thing. Power.

  From the blood-red of the cloak, the all-black beneath it formed a sharp contrast. A form-fitting black turtleneck top and black skirt clung to her figure to just below the hips and then flared out into an irregular fluttering hem, covering her to mid-shin. Black and what he suspected were fake leather low heeled, boots, peeked out from beneath the skirt.

  A big opal in a silver frame hung from a thick chain around her neck and silver bracelets with gemstones like amber and amethyst, jade and moonstone, decorated her wrists.

  There's been a time when her aura was that of a young fairy, a creature of magic abilities who'd suffered from the evil in this world yet survived with an appearance that made her look like a princess to be protected and loved. Today she was every inch a woman who'd realized her power. The princess was gone. In her place was a queen.

  She stood still for a few moments, and her eyes moved over the people gathered in the room. The first person she acknowledged was Fiona.

  "Fiona," she hurried across the room. When Fiona stood, Izzi hugged her. "It's so good to see you again. You look wonderful. Thank you for the beautiful holiday card."

  "You're welcome, and thank you for that amazing homemade jam and the incense," Fiona smiled when the embrace ended. "And damn girl, you look amazing."

  "Still as kind as ever," Izzi returned the smile. "Thank you."

  Then she turned her attention to Galen and extended her hand. "Galen, hello. You never change. Still breaking hearts and cracking cases, I'm assuming."

  "Always," he took her hand, and she covered their clasped hands with her free one.

  "It's good to see you, Galen."

  "And you, Isabelle."

  She smiled and turned her attention to Leo. For a moment, time stood still. At least for him. She surprised him by stepping close and hugging him. "Leo Sebastian," she said softly. "I've missed you."

  "And I've missed you." He returned the embrace then smiled at her when she stepped back.

  "I hope we can find a moment to catch up?" The way she had to tilt her head back to look up at him reminded him of her petite stature.

  "We will," he promised, then looked at Tamara and Dennis. "Let me introduce you to the rest of the team."

  Leo watched as Izzi shook hands and told Dennis and Tamara what an honor it was to meet them. She'd charmed both of them in under a minute. She then looked across the room at Gib. "Special Agent in Charge, Foster, has offered me a position as a civilian consultant, and I first want to say what an honor it is to work with all of you. I hope I can prove myself to be an asset.

  "Second," she looked around at everyone. "When can we get started?"

  "My kind of woman," Dennis said, then looked a bit aghast, liked he'd overstepped some boundary.

  Izzi just laughed. "I can see we're going to get along just fine. So, I've read the case files on the Cheerleader and the latest on the Seven Bridges murders. Where are we going first, and what else do I need to know?"

  "Sit," Fiona indicated a vacant chair beside her.

  Izzi sat, and within minutes, everyone was seated at the table, and all attention was on the cases.

  Leo marveled that Izzi handled it all so well. The last time he saw her, she was, for lack of a better word, broken. Now she seemed strong, confident, and ready to do battle.

  He looked over at her and caught her eye, and she gave him a wink then gave her attention
back to Tamara, who was speaking. Leo noticed Gib watching Izzi, and wondered what had transpired, how he'd convinced her to come back and work with them.

  Two hours passed before Gib, who had stepped out to take a phone call, returned, and asked for silence. Leo had noticed him leave and wondered what it was about. It looked like they were about to find out.

  "There are new developments in Mississippi on the Seven Bridges case," Gib announced.

  "A hair found at the scene and a shoe print match that of a man found in a car at the bottom of a ravine last night. Why the car went off the road has not yet been determined, but the victim had more than his own blood on his clothing, and his shoe matched a print found at the last scene in New Allenton."

  "Are we still leaving this evening?" Fiona asked.

  "No. Wheels up in two hours. Get what you need."

  Everyone started gathering up their things, folders, laptops, tablets, and phones. Leo stayed seated, as did Izzi. Once everyone but he, she and Gib left, he spoke directly to Izzi. "Are you sure about doing this?"

  "I am."

  "Yes, I suppose you are, or you wouldn't be here. But, are you here because of Gib or because that fire I thought the Seven Bridges Unsub extinguished, has flamed back to life, and you want to get back to the job of catching him?"

  Izzi looked directly at him. "Both. But I don't think we will catch him in Mississippi."

  "Why?"

  "Because he wouldn't leave clues. Not a hair, certainly not a footprint, and I don't believe it's him in that car."

  "Or you don't want to believe."

  "Do you?"

  "I don't know. If it's not, then why does evidence link the deceased to the crime?"

  "Either it's a copycat or the Unsub set it up."

  "Do you think he's that good?"

  "I do."

  "Okay, so back to my question. You're here because…"

  "Because Gib asked me. Because I miss working with all of you. Because this is my case more than it's anyone's. Because I realized I don't want to be alone. Because I can help and I'm good at what I do. Because I need to stop this evil and because I love Gib and need him in my life. Is all or any of that a problem?"