She had passed the point of caring if she hurt him two glasses of wine ago. “What makes you think you can kill him”—poke, poke—“before he kills me … or runs over any other family members?”
Peter’s stunned silence dragged at the air between them.
He blinked, his eyes remaining black. “That’s a decent question. I don’t know. But I promise I will protect you.”
“I don’t think that you can.” She finished the glass, off-balance. Defeated. Her head started to swim. “Really, it doesn’t matter if he kills me. All I’ve done with my life is predict other people’s deaths. What a useless skill.”
He opened his mouth, then closed it with a click of teeth.
She laughed mirthlessly. “Now, thanks to my gift, I have a clear idea of how this guy will torture me. All I have to do is wait around for it to happen. Now there’s something to look forward to.”
“Allie, please.”
“What do I have to live for anyway? To predict more deaths? No, thank you.”
He stretched out his hand and then dropped it.
His lost expression was even funnier considering he’d faced down bayonets, German tanks, North Koreans, Punji sticks, Scud missiles, and IEDs. But he had no clue how to handle a hysterical woman. Hilarious.
She raised her hand. “Oh, wait, I’m not done yet.” The last swig of wine in her glass tasted sour. “My dog’s been run over, and I welcomed a not-quite-human into my bed. And I’m having death visions of my six-year-old niece. Which, by the way, my visions always come true. Always. Did I cover everything?” She reached for the wine bottle again. “Life just doesn’t get any better than this cluster.”
She held up her hand as he opened his mouth to speak. “No. I tried to make a fresh start. I tried to have normal. It makes no difference what I do, this shit keeps coming right back.”
“Allie … ” He intercepted her arm.
As she struggled against his iron grip, he tried to pull her into his arms, but the dam burst at his steady touch.
Sobbing, Allison pounded on his shoulders. All the years of pain poured out of her. Anger and helpless terror drove her as she hit him on the chest, her weak slaps loud in the quiet house. She had never hit another person in her entire life.
He stood there, arms loosely encircled around her, absorbing her blows without flinching. His forehead crinkled with worry, or was it pity? Those black eyes, while directed at her, had become lifeless, shuttered.
After she spent her energy, she cried, exhausted and limp, as he held her. How long he stood there, patiently letting her sob into his shirt, her foggy brain had no idea.
She straightened up. Clarity steamrolled her into sobriety.
There would be no more crying on his shoulder.
Stepping out of his arms, she forced herself to look at his handsome, sad face; the tenderness there hurt even more. But she’d made her decision. Time to rip off the Band-Aid.
“You need to leave.”
His eyes widened. “I don’t understand.”
“I can’t do this.” She touched her chest and waved her hand at him. “Us. Together. In here, my head. Any of it.”
“What?”
“Look, I’m sorry for what you went through. I’m sorry if I led you on. But there is no future for us. For me.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed twice, then his eyes hardened into obsidian beneath the angry slash of his dark eyebrows.
“I see.” He spun on his heel and stormed out faster than she could follow with her eyes.
After the front door slammed shut, the entire house shuddered into silence.
• • •
“Have you finished your assignment, Anton?” The way he asked made it clear he already knew the answer.
“No, my lord Jerahmeel. But—”
“But nothing! Get the job done.” Jerahmeel adjusted his curled and oiled black locks in his vehicle's rearview mirror. “I’m getting hungry, and I hate losing an employee.” One pinky finger smoothed his eyebrows. “The loss of Barnaby is too fresh. And Blackstone’s too close to his Meaningful Kill. If things continue, he’s going to figure it out.”
Anton couldn’t keep the instructions straight. “At first you only wanted me to check on Blackstone to make sure he hadn’t blown his cover by that lame car crash. Then that yummy lady came along who might make him want to quit his job. Now you want me to kill him?”
“No, you imbécile!” Jerahmeel snapped, his deep voice inhumanly augmented. The windows shook. “Blackstone is already contemplating how to end his contract. The woman gives him even more reason. You need to take away that reason for wanting his contract to end.
“There’s something about her that feels familiar and tasty. The mere scent of her whetted an appetite I didn’t know I had. She’s his inspiration to end the contract, and you know how I feel about contracts ending. It’s so rude.”
“She was nice. When I touched her, all the bad things went away,” Anton said.
“What?”
“It felt awesome. Like I was flying and full from a nice meal and free from any future assignments.” He tap, tap, tapped on his forehead, the rhythm soothing him. “Felt great.”
“Peter withheld that piece of information from me. Bad Peter. Maybe that’s why I was attracted to her scent. Fascinating. And she’s with Blackstone.” Jerahmeel smoothed his neatly pressed silk slacks. “Even more reason to get rid of her.”
“What is she?”
“She’s a Ward. They can identify us.”
“That’s not good.”
“No, of course not. Even more reason to get rid of her.” A black expression crossed his unlined face. “Well, then, you’d best get to it and eliminate Blackstone’s reason for living. I need to keep all my little pawns in the game. I hate to lose a piece.”
Anton picked at his fingernails, cuticles bleeding. “But can I … can I still have fun?”
“Yes, yes, of course. But quit wasting my time. Finish your task so we can return to business as usual. I need all of my employees back out there so I can feed.
“Make it hurt, though. Especially Blackstone. Hurt him badly. But don’t kill him. Understand?”
Chapter 14
Allie’s words stung more than her weak blows to Peter’s body.
Her assessment was totally correct: he was a cold-blooded murderer. The fact that he killed for the good of society only masked the hypocrisy. Trapped within a contract, he killed humans. End of story. All the rationalizing in the world wouldn’t change that reality.
The expression on her swollen, tear-streaked face had hit him like a torpedo.
Then she had told him to leave.
Damn it, walking out of that house was the hardest thing he’d done since leaving Claire. It brought back the anguish he’d buried since the day he’d shoved a hat on his head and crossed over the worn rug in the entrance to the small house he shared with Claire.
Now Allie had rolled up her welcome mat.
As he stood outside on her porch, his hands clenching and unclenching next to the handle of the front door, he broke out in a cold sweat.
All he could do was keep her safe. He could offer nothing more. This woman deserved a lifetime with a partner who loved her. She deserved someone whole, not the shadow of a man he’d become, not the killer hiding behind a mission.
Once he had ensured her safety, he would leave forever.
Seriously, what had he been thinking? For a moment, he’d imagined his future, and it had Allie in it. But she had destroyed that fantasy, made it abundantly clear what she thought of him. Fair enough, he couldn’t argue that she was inaccurate.
But damn how her words shredded him like someone had flayed his skin raw.
For now, he needed to follow through on his promise to keep her safe, no matter if she wanted him to or not. His leaving her house wouldn’t protect her. Quite the opposite. So he was in for a chilly night, even for someone like him who wasn’t affected by the weather.
&nbs
p; He began to pace a wide circle through the woods and across the gravel lane to her house. The night was not late enough. There were far too many hours until morning to be alone with his thoughts.
• • •
Allison’s head throbbed. Her eyelids must have been coated with sandpaper. The clock read seven in the morning, but it felt as though she hadn’t slept at all.
Flopping over on the bed, she put a pillow over her head and groaned. Passion up against the bedroom wall. Peter’s bizarre story. The revelation that she’d almost trusted a cold-blooded killer. Almost believed there was a chance for a relationship with this man. Only he wasn’t a normal man, was he? No more than she was a normal woman, truth be told.
She had surmised something along those lines from the visions she’d gotten off him, but having him tell the story so matter-of-factly made the truth all too real. At some point she must have made it back to the bed and passed out, since she was still in the clothes from the previous evening.
After washing up, she dressed in jeans and a sweater. An inch or so of snow was on the ground already, and she didn’t welcome the idea of going out in the cold, even if it was to see Ivy.
Twenty minutes later, Dr. Sampson motioned her into the boarding area. “Come on back, Al. Ivy’s resting over here.”
With a tired yip, Ivy tried to get up from where she lay in her enclosure in the dog ward. Her tail thumped against the metal walls. She whined.
“Ivy!” Allison ran over to open the door and crouched down to hug her dog’s massive head. Tears pricked Allison’s eyes.
Ivy licked her hands and face and gave her a sideways doggy grin, her tail thwacking the enclosure walls. Bandages covered Ivy’s abdomen, and her hip and leg were casted.
“She’ll be fine,” Dr. Samson said. “I’d like to observe her for a few more days to make sure her gut is working well and force her to rest that hip. But she should be back to mischief soon. I think the hardest part will be ensuring that she doesn’t overdo it.”
Allison nodded. Ivy’s energy was boundless, and her dog would hurt herself in an effort to play. “Mind if I sit with her for a while?”
“Not at all, I’m just doing rounds. Let me know when you leave.”
“Thanks again for saving her.”
“My pleasure.” He closed the door behind him.
Allison gave Ivy a good scratch behind her ears and received more affectionate licks. It did her soul good to see her faithful companion recovering from her injuries.
The tingling in the back of Allison’s head began at a low-level rumble, and she frowned, trying to focus harder and identify its source. She couldn’t quite get at it. Like a memory beyond recollection, or something she’d forgotten.
A wall of terror and pain slammed into her like a locomotive. Flashes of pictures flew through her mind. She couldn’t stop it. Too much. Too fast. Ice-cold suffering. The images kept coming, overwhelming her sight, her hearing, her brain. She struggled to get up off the floor.
“I don’t—” She cringed, knees buckling.
“Help.”
• • •
Peter’s cell phone rang as he climbed into the truck. After Allie had left her house, he’d run to town to pick up his truck. Of course, he’d lost her on the way. His kind was fast in short bursts, but not as fast as a car when it came to piling up miles. Like all Indebted, he had limits to his hell-blessed abilities.
“It’s Dante, bro, where are you?”
“I’m in La Grande. What’s going on?”
“Something weird. I called in for another assignment and was told no assignments for now. Jerahmeel said he’s working on a special project. When I asked what it was, Big Boss just laughed and said it involved you.”
Peter gripped the cell phone. “I don’t understand.”
“Me neither, so I called Barnaby.”
“Why?”
“He knows everything.”
Peter couldn’t argue that point.
“Barnaby said you must be close to being free, because that’s what happened to him. They threw the whole kit and caboodle at him.”
“What does ‘kit and caboodle’ entail?”
Dante paused. “Dude, you’re going up against a minion. Jerahmeel’s hand-selected enforcer.”
“Never heard of a minion.”
“According to Barnaby, they only show up to make it miserable or impossible for you to finish your contract. The one Barnaby had to destroy was especially nasty.”
Peter shoved his free hand through his hair. “But it’s possible.”
“Sure, but they’re bent on the destruction of anything you hold dear in the meantime. They’ll take away any motivation you might have to fight back. Any motivation to get out of your contract.”
Allie.
Peter’s hand balled into a fist. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Keep that pretty doctor safe and be ready.” Dante paused again. “Actually, bro, I was going to visit. I’m bored. And who knows? I might be able give you a hand.”
“Isn’t that against the rules?”
“No idea. Don’t care. What’s he going to do, make my life a living hell?” His laugh had no mirth. “But seriously, I don’t want to see you dead-dead. And I don’t like that this minion may try and take out innocents. I may be a bastard, but I will not sit by while women get hurt.”
“I agree.”
“Where’s your lady friend now?”
“She was supposed to stop by the vet hospital this morning. I don’t know where she is now.”
“She’s alone?” The fear in his voice alarmed Peter. Nothing scared Dante.
“Uh, yes.”
“Go find her! Don’t let her out of your sight until we get there.”
“Who’s we?”
Dante had already clicked off the line.
• • •
Peter tried not to attract undue attention as he supported most of Allie’s body weight, guiding her out of the clinic and into her car. She doubled over several times, and would have fallen if it weren’t for his holding her upright.
Her torment had acted like a beacon in his own mind, drawing him right to the clinic.
“Talk to me.” Her shaking hands were ice-cold. He blasted the heater, turning all vents toward her.
“Too much.” Panting, she rubbed her chest and clutched at the front of her sweater. “Something’s wrong. I can’t focus. Oh God, it hurts.”
“Can you pinpoint anything?” He squeezed her hands, trying to get her attention, trying to do something—anything—to reduce her pain.
The tension left her shoulders and she leaned back in the seat.
“For whatever reason, it’s clearer when we’re touching.” Her breathing slowed down.
“Can’t you feel me in your mind?”
“Yes, but you’ve moved to the background. Right now, there’s another big storm of noise in my head. Contact with you calms it down.”
“Before, you said touching me had the opposite effect.”
“You’re right. Here’s what I know, though. Since meeting you, my powers have been changing. Is this sensation another cycle of that change?”
He hated to think that somehow he’d been the catalyst for the pain ripping through Allie.
“Possibly.” He chafed her hands, maintaining contact. “What do you see?”
She stared with unfocused eyes out the front windshield. “Only a few images. Discomfort, fear, cold. Maybe snow and … a mountain lake. The lake is somehow familiar. I see … the glass slipper again. I don’t understand.”
The shrill ring of her cell phone brought her gaze into sharp focus. With unsteady hands, Allie thumbed on the phone. “Hi, Sarah.” The light tone belied the pain on her face.
After a pause, her lips pressed into a grim line. “Gone? What happened? You checked at her friend’s house?” Her knuckles whitened on the phone. “Oh God. Is Bryce out searching?”
Another pause.
“Sarah, about Qui
ncy. I saw something yesterday and again a few minutes ago. A lake. I don’t know what it means, or if it’s even worth anything. I know, I’m trying to focus, but I’m not getting anything else. If I figure out more, I’ll call you. Okay, I love you, too.”
She hung up the phone, her features suffused with agony.
“Quincy’s missing. She was playing at a friend’s house and was supposed to run home, two houses down. She never got there.”
Anger and worry congealed in his gut. Who would want to harm that sweet girl?
Hell.
Allie met his stare, her eyebrows raised. She scrabbled for her phone.
“Oh God. I can’t be right.” She clicked on her sister’s number, leaning forward to press her fingers onto the bridge of her nose. “Sarah? One more question. What exactly was Quincy doing at her friend’s house?”
Peter heard the reply, right before the phone dropped from her nerveless fingers.
“Playing Cinderella.”
Chapter 15
Hollow despair gnawed at Allison while Peter drove back to her house. The Subaru’s wheels sprayed wet slush, and sleet pinged off the windshield, punctuated by the squeak of the wipers.
She had to slow down her racing thoughts and focus, but images of the past week competed for attention. She couldn’t hold on to one image long enough to examine it.
Frustrated, she leaned forward and groaned.
“What?” He pulled into the garage and turned off the car.
“I’m trying to think through for more details when I touched Quincy, but I can’t focus.” She struggled to form sentences. “It’s like holding on to sand.”
He touched her neck, rubbing lightly. “Don’t try so hard.”
“No, there’s too much interference, too many images. It hurts inside my mind.”
He came around to the passenger side and helped her out of the car. His hand warmed her shoulders as he briefly pulled her toward him and guided her into the kitchen, where he pulled out a chair for her.
“How did you find me?”
“Something signaled up here.” He tapped his forehead with his finger. “I just knew.”
“Listen, I am so sorry—”
He cut her off. “No. That was my fault. All of it.” He crossed his arms. “Doesn’t matter. I’m going to help you find your niece. And don’t worry. I won’t take advantage again. That’s a promise.”
Immortal Flame Page 13