by J N Duncan
Vasquez made it one step back into the bedroom before Nick reached him, his fists plowing into and snapping Rennie Vasquez’s collarbones in half. The guns fell to the floor and Vasquez flew back, indenting the Sheetrock in the opposite wall. He slumped to his knees and then toppled over, face down on the floor. Another foot over and Nick would have had sent him on a cinematic death fall through the bedroom window.
Momentum carried Nick halfway across the room before he landed, feet first, then one hand down before dropping into a roll and coming to a stop against Vasquez’s head. In the hall, the brief sounds of a scuffle met his ears, followed by the sound of flesh meeting flesh in unfortunate ways. A moment later, Shelby was at his side.
“Nick! You dumb sonofabitch. What the hell were you doing?”
“Jackie?” he asked, but the word came out jumbled. Nick winced. The bullet must have torn out part of his jaw.
“She’s gone,” Shelby replied. “Poofed out to Deadworld.”
“But . . . I thought Rosa . . .”
Shelby pushed him over and the expression on her face told Nick his wounds probably were as bad as he sounded. “Aww, Nick! Look what you’ve gone and done.” She reached out and touched his face, coming away with a bloody hand. “This is going to be rough, babe. You’ve got blood running out all over the fucking place.”
He brought up his own bloody hand and placed it high up on his chest, attempting to focus more energy upon the wounds. “Worst . . . here.”
“What?” She shook her head, tears watering her eyes. “Just shut the hell up. I can see for myself.” Her hands came down over his, power flowing through her fingers.
Shelby’s face blurred, then doubled as one of his eyes drifted off in another direction. He was feeling faint, not a good sign. His chest was in bad shape. Several wounds there, one in the throat, one in his jaw. He needed to get everything closed off internally first, and it would not happen if he was out cold.
“You need some blood, Nick,” she said.
He shook his head, his voice burbling through the blood in his mouth and throat. “No.”
“You want to die here on this floor? You’ve got like twenty wounds here. I can’t get to them fast enough and you’re fading quick.”
“No.”
“Tough shit, hon.” She reached over him and grabbed Vasquez’s unconscious arm. “Besides, you know how bad off Jackie is going to be if you die saving her?” She pulled a blade from her pocket, a thin, switchblade razor and opened up a two inch slice in Rennie’s wrist. “Drink cowboy. Heroes deserve to live.”
She held the wrist over Nick’s mouth and he tried to turn away from the gush she squeezed out over his lips. The fire of it in his mouth was immediate, a sudden burst of spiritual energy blending in with his own, but it quickly dissipated. Perhaps Jackie did need him, and he wanted her, wanted to be with her. Yes, Nick felt certain about that. Dying on her now would be a travesty if it was because he refused to drink from a psychopathic murderer. He turned his head back and closed his eyes, clamping his mouth around the wound.
“There you go, babe. I’m sorry.” Her hands continued to work over his face and chest, feeding him with the much needed healing energy. With the blood, it would probably be enough. “Nobody is going to hold it against you. The guy deserves to drop a couple of . . . she’s back.”
Nick opened his eyes. He’d felt it to, the opening of the Deadworld door. He lifted his head and sure enough, Jackie stood in the hall, staring down the corridor at them.
“Nick?”
He tried to shift a bit behind Shelby’s form and let the arm fall away from his face. Shelby motioned for her to come.
“Get in here! You can help me.”
She took a step forward and stopped. “You OK?”
She knew. He could tell by the look on her face that she knew, thinly veiled horror at the thought of someone drinking another’s blood. He had to give her credit, though, the pause did not last even a second before she was trotting toward them. She favored her left leg.
Jackie looked down at him from over Shelby’s shoulder and her eyes went wide. “Oh, my God, Nick! You’re . . . Jesus Christ! Nick, there’s a hole—”
“Jackie! Shut up and help out,” Shelby ordered. “Keep that arm bleeding out into his mouth so he can use both hands.” She turned and looked up at Jackie’s shocked face. “Now!”
There were sirens nearby. Nick could hear several. Police. Paramedics. McManus would be there any time. Jackie moved and knelt by his head and picked up Vasquez’s arm. She stared at it for a second before moving it over Nick’s mouth.
“Drink,” she said. “If you die saving me, I’m going to kill you myself.”
He wanted to know what happened. He could sense Rosa, Laurel, even the baby. They were all near.
Shelby nudged him with her knee. “Calm down, Nick. Keep your heart rate down so I can close this shit off.”
Jackie lay a warm hand on his brow. There was energy there as well, flowing from her finger tips. It was then that Nick realized. They were all inside her. She had channeled Rosa and the baby into her and trapped them. He stared up at those hard, hazel-green eyes with the crinkle of concentration between them. The circles under her eyes were so pronounced it looked like someone had smudged makeup under them. She was pale, extremely so. She hadn’t slept in three or four days.
“Jackie,” he said. “You’re amazing, you know that?”
“What?”
Shelby rocked back on her heels. “OK, patched up the fucking arteries. Rest should be cake.”
McManus’s voice could be heard downstairs. “Paramedics. We need paramedics here now!”
Jackie stood up, swaying on her feet. “Upstairs, McManus.” She looked back down at Nick. “You going to be OK, now?”
“Soon enough, thanks,” he said. “You better sit, Jackie. You look like you’re going to pass out.” Something else about her was different. She looked a bit off.
“I should,” she said and nodded slowly. “Feel a bit lightheaded.”
Shelby reached out and grabbed Jackie’s leg. “Is that your blood?” She swiped it across her tongue. “Christ, Jack! Did you get shot?”
“Um, I don’t think so,” she said. She turned, inspecting her body.
Nick saw it then, on the back of her thigh below the right butt cheek. A dark stain streaked and spattered its way down the back of her leg and was trickling out on to the floor. “Jackie? Back of your thigh.”
She twisted to look and Shelby reached up and ripped open the hole in the back of her jeans. “Yep. Bullet wound right here. Jackie, you need to sit your ass down.” Her other hand shot up and pushed against her stomach. “Oh, wow. What did you do, babe?”
McManus stepped up to the room at that very moment. “What the . . . Jack? Is it the real you?”
Jackie laughed, and Nick thought that there was nothing amusing in it. She looked more than a bit frightened and glassy-eyed. “Yeah. We’re all here now.” She swayed and took a lurching step to the side. “Hey, Ryan. Looks like I got shot.”
McManus ran forward. “Shot? Sit your . . . whoa! OK then.” Ryan caught her as she began to collapse and eased her to the ground. His hands pushed and prodded at her. “Where?”
“Back of her thigh,” Shelby said. “Think it’s stopped bleeding now.”
“There’s a lot of blood here,” he said.
“Mostly Nick’s. He’s OK now, too. Need to patch up psycho-boy there. He cut himself on something.”
McManus glanced around at everything with a skeptical eye. “Nick. You look like you got . . . you know what, never mind. We’ll deal with reports later.”
Shelby patted him on the knee. “Good boy, McManus. Get Jackie to the hospital. Again.” She reached over and caressed Jackie’s belly, shaking her head in disbelief. “Think she needs fluids more than anything, and to be knocked out for about twenty-four hours.”
“Is the um . . . the ghost?” asked McManus.
“Think i
t’s been taken care of,” Shelby said.
Nick nodded at Ryan with a grim smile. “Except for Jackie. I don’t think her troubles are near done.”
“Right about that,” he said.
Chapter 38
Jackie struggled and slogged her way out of drug-induced sleep. Her eyes, crusted with sleep, were difficult to open. She dug at them with her fingers, finding something tugged at her hand. When her vision finally swam into focus, she noticed the IV tube trailed from the back of her hand up to a clear bag hanging on a metal tower. Hospital. Again. She was truly getting tired of finding herself here.
And her body felt surprisingly empty. Jackie reached down and found her stomach once again soft and flat. The only presence within her body was her own. Thank God. She turned her head and looked about the room, identical in appearance to the one she had graced before, right down to the sleeping sheriff in the chair. Nick looked whole once again, not the blood-soaked, shredded thing she had last seen sprawled on Rennie Vasquez’s floor. She attempted to swallow and found her mouth and throat to be a bed of dry gravel. Reaching for the glass of water sitting on the bedside table elicited a groan. Her body was stiff and sore and a horrible itch crawled across the back of her thigh.
Nick opened his eyes and sat up at the sound of her voice. He smiled, stretching a thin, pink and jagged scar that now ran from chin to ear. “Welcome back,” he said. He pushed to his feet and retrieved the water from the table and then used the automatic adjustments to raise Jackie to a sitting position.
Jackie took the water and gulped down the entire cup. “Ah, thank you.”
“How you feeling?”
“Better, I think. We need to stop meeting like this.”
“Agreed,” he said. “The furniture is incredibly uncomfortable.”
She reached up toward his face and touched the fresh scar. “You OK? You scared the shit out of me.”
Nick took her hand, holding it lightly in his. “Might have some issues with setting off metal detectors, but otherwise I’m all right.”
“How long have I been out? I seem to have lost everyone that was with me.”
He glanced at his watch. “About seventeen hours. Laurel said she convinced Rosa and her babe to move on.” He gave her hand a soft squeeze. “That was an amazing thing you did.”
Jackie withdrew her hand, comforting as it was. “Yeah, I guess. Not going to do much to save my job, though. Can’t exactly put any of this in my report.”
“No,” he agreed. “I suppose not. Things are going to be different.”
She sighed, throat constricting. “They’re going to fire me, Nick. Without knowing the truth, they’re going to think I’m a complete nut job. Be lucky if I’m not charged with anything.”
“You aren’t going to be charged with anything,” he said.
“I assaulted two agents,” Jackie exclaimed. “I shot Pernetti in the fucking foot. They have every right to charge me.”
“I talked with John this morning. He said there will be no charges.”
“Oh.” That was something at least, but it didn’t change the fact she was going to be out of a job. “Still. No law enforcement agency is going to hire me after this.”
A corner of Nick’s mouth turned up. “Hopefully that won’t be necessary.”
“What? How could they not fire me over this? The BPS is going to fry me for what happened.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know what’s been arranged. John will have to fill you in.”
“John told you all of this?” That made no sense. “What’s going on, Nick?”
“Better if John talks to you. I don’t think it’s my place to say anything yet.”
What the hell? “Seriously? Come on, Nick. You can’t lead me on with that and then take the fifth.”
“Sorry,” he said. “I really don’t know all the details. How about some food? You must be starving.”
“Nick!”
He stepped away. “I’ll go get you something. Sandwich sound good?”
“Nick,” she shouted at his back, but he did not answer and Jackie was left fuming in her bed.
He returned a short time later with two sandwiches, chips, Jell-O, cheesecake, coffee, and a Coke. Part of her wanted to not eat just to irritate him into spilling the beans, but after a few bites, Jackie realized she was ravenous and thirty minutes later the tray was empty, bad coffee and all.
As she was washing down the last bites of cheesecake, McManus came walking in, knocking softly on the door before he entered. One eye was swollen shut and he had a bandage across the bridge of his nose.
Jackie scrunched up her face in pained sympathy. “Shit, Ryan. I’m so sorry. I really nailed you good.”
He waved her off. “Teach me to be more on my toes. And when someone claims to be ready to puke in my car, I’ll just let them.” Ryan stuck out his hand toward Nick. “Mr. Anderson? Good to see you so quickly recovered. Still wrapping my brain around that one.”
Nick gave him a wry smile and shook his hand. “I’ll show you one of these days.”
Ryan laughed. “Looking forward to it. So,” he turned to Jackie, “you look far better than the zombie they hauled away yesterday. Do I get to know what actually happened?”
“You don’t really want to know do you?”
“Maybe after a few beers,” he said.
She gave him a pained smile. “How much shit has hit the fan over this? Nick is under the impression that I’m neither fired nor under arrest. Pernetti want my head on a platter? The BPS hanging outside in the hall?”
Ryan held up his hand. “Slow down, Jack. Everything is cool and quiet right now. Belgerman clamped down on the whole thing about thirty minutes after I got there. No reporters, no interviews, no nothing. We aren’t even allowed to write up any reports on this yet. Anything and everything about this case has to go through him for now.”
Damn. How could he do that? She would have to sign something saying she would discuss this with nobody after she left. Which was fine. Jackie had no desire to talk about what had happened. Ever. “What’s the official line, then?”
“Distressed federal agent tracks down heroin trafficking operation,” Belgerman said, coming in through the door. “Three killed in ensuing gun battle.”
“Sir,” Jackie said, “don’t you think ‘distressed’ is a bit of an understatement?”
“The press can debate the semantics of it,” he said with a shrug. “I’m not worried about them. I am worried about you, though. How you doing, Jackie? You look slightly less dead than yesterday.”
“I’m feeling a bit better,” she said. “Still kind of weak and tired.”
“Too tired for the BPS?”
“Sir, I’m always too tired for them.” She tried to give him a rueful smile and surprisingly he returned it. What was going on here?
“Then I’ll make sure you don’t see them today. Maybe ever.”
“How’s that?”
He offered her a wry smile. “I have your resignation papers here,” he said
The air froze in her lungs. She spluttered, “Resign! Sir?” Quit the FBI? It really was as bad as she had feared.
“Hey folks!” Shelby called out, walking in shoulder to shoulder with Cynthia. “Not too late, am I?” She beamed at Jackie and walked over to her, planting a big, wet kiss on her forehead, but without an enormous lipstick mark, Jackie hoped. “Hi, babe. You’re looking much better today.”
Cynthia had come too? All at the same time. Jackie tried to look cheerful, glad that everyone was there to see her, but it struck her as just a little bit more than suspicious. “Tell me it’s just a bizarre coincidence that everyone is here at the same time to see me.”
“Agent McManus,” Belgerman said, “would you get the door, please.”
“What is this?” Jackie demanded. “If I’m resigning, why is everyone here?”
The whisper of Deadworld blew through her head. Can I come in, hon? Laurel’s voice echoed quietly in the back of her head.
I’d like to hear what John has to say.
Jackie reached out and let Laurel across. Sure! Everyone else is here. Do you know what’s going on?
Sort of. Shelby was talking about it last night. Said we would find out today if it was going to happen.
What’s going to happen? Be nice if someone told me what the hell is going on.
Shelby reached out and grabbed Jackie’s chin, staring her in the eye. “You just invited Laurel in, didn’t you? Easy as that?” Jackie stared at her, surprised. Then Shelby grinned and brought up her hand to wave in Jackie’s face. “Hey sweetie.”
McManus shuffled back against the wall. “Am I missing something?”
Belgerman pulled one of the two chairs over next to the bed and faced Jackie. “Not yet, Ryan. Jackie? We’re meeting here, this morning, before anything else might interfere.”
She scooted back up in the bed, feeling surrounded. “Interfere with what?”
“Your decision on this.” He held up his hand to stay her response. “Let me explain. Then anyone else can chime in with what they think or ask any questions. This is the one time we’ll be doing this. Then, I expect an answer within twenty-four hours. OK?”
Jackie nodded. “Sure.”
“About a year ago,” he began, “I and a couple other regional heads from around the country had a little meeting about what to do with people like Laurel. She was special, unique in her abilities to help the FBI in certain rare cases. There are a handful of people around the country with similar abilities, though Laurel, I must say, was likely our best or at least most consistent psychic agent.”
I always loved that man, Laurel said happily.
“We decided it might benefit us all if we got a special unit together to deal with such cases, a paranormal crime-unit you could call it.” Shelby huffed and John raised a finger to her. “Whatever it’s called, we were going to have Laurel head up this unit and we were about a month away from offering her the position when everything crashed down with Mr. Drake.”