Touched by Light

by Spangler, Catherine

  Adam, still standing, looked fresh and alert, and damned good in jeans and a black turtleneck sweater—wait a minute. The man was in jeans. Of course they were designer and looked expensive, but still. That was a first.

  Sean didn’t look tired, either, although he’d been out on the Riverwalk with Adam in the middle of the night. He wasn’t fashion-plate clothed, but had his own appeal in faded Levis and a long-sleeved olive henley shirt, with the sleeves pushed up his masculine forearms. Miriam was right—he certainly had the bad-boy air about him. From the looks of his heaped plate, his Sentinel appetite was alive and well.

  On the other hand, Miriam was pale, with shadows beneath her eyes. Her hair wasn’t spiked quite as high today, and she wore only two rings in each ear. She was drinking hot tea, and had a small amount of eggs and fruit on her plate. It seemed the Sentinel and Sanctioned were weathering the lack of sleep better than the regular humans.

  All three of them looked grim, and no one was chatty, so Julia guessed no good news had come their way. She took a few more sips, decided the caffeine would just have to catch up with whatever jolt she was sure to receive when she asked for a report. “Did you get any information from the Riverwalk?”

  Adam refilled his coffee and sat down. “We got what we expected.”

  Sean pushed his plate away.

  “Don’t talk all at once,” Julia said, getting a small smile from Miriam, but no other reaction. “I’m assuming you were able to visualize the crime, to see the Belian in some form.”

  She already knew from prior experience that when Sentinels visited a Belian crime scene, they could usually “see” the crime. But although Belians couldn’t totally block their energies from a BCS, they could distort it enough to make their images blurry, so they didn’t show up clearly.

  “Yeah, we saw it,” Sean said.

  “Actually, the energies weren’t distorted,” Adam said. “I can only surmise that the Belian didn’t bother to blur the images, because we already know what Matt looks like. We saw Matt walking behind Officer Olvera and raising his hand toward the officer. Olvera fired into the crowds and then . . .” Adam shook his head. “Yes, we know exactly what happened.”

  “Son of a bitch Belian,” Sean said. “It wasn’t Matt directing the shooting.”

  “We know that,” Julia said, her heart going out to Sean. “I understand Matt is a wonderful person, and a strong Sentinel.”

  Sean looked at her, his dark eyes shadowed. “He is. He’s a great guy.”

  “But the Belian is a bastard.” Miriam set her tea down with a clink. “Pardon my language, Dr. Reynolds—I mean Julia—but it’s true. And he’s going to strike again soon.”

  “Did you pick up something last night?” Julia asked.

  “Yes and no. Sean did the nauseating energy sharing, but the pendulum didn’t hit on anything. I worked with the Tarot, and they seemed to be firing, because I got cards that represented each of us. Those were followed by some really bad cards: Death, The Devil, both reversed. Then for the grand finale, I turned up the Ten of Swords, also reversed. Reversed cards indicate the most negative outcome.”

  “So what does the Ten of Swords mean?” Julia asked.

  “Oh, death, violence, continuing suffering without end,” Miriam told her. “Like I said, really bad stuff. But there’s no new information.”

  “Miriam didn’t get solid results because we had minimal energy to work with,” Adam said.

  “This morning I woke up with that sick feeling in the pit of my stomach again.” Miriam looked at her plate with distaste. “Guess I’m living on antacids for the time being.”

  And Julia was ready to make merlot and chocolate her main form of nutrition. Hanging out with Sentinels and Sanctioned and hunting the spawn of Satan tended to change your priorities.

  “We picked up substantially more Belian energy at the crime scene a few hours ago,” Adam said. “If we work that energy, we might get more solid information.”

  And I so look forward to being exposed to Belian energy , Julia thought.

  “So are you going to try to induce a vision or do a conduction?” Sean asked, his narrow-eyed gaze focused on Julia.

  Miriam looked at her speculatively. Julia felt heat flushing her cheeks. She busied herself with her coffee. She wasn’t about to admit they’d already done one conduction, or to explain that the one yesterday and any future conductions she and Adam might do would be nonsexual.

  In any case, it wouldn’t be entirely true. All close contact with Adam was becoming sexually charged.

  “We’re going to do whatever is necessary to close in on this,” Adam said. “I’m concerned that the Belian will strike again today or tomorrow. It will certainly go for a high body count, and since this is October, most of the theme parks and major tourist attractions are only open on the weekends. So it will have to strike today or tomorrow, or wait another week—which it won’t do.”

  Unfortunately, his logic was sound. Looking at Sean and Miriam’s faces, Julia could see they agreed. “What do you want me to do?” Sean asked.

  “Work with the newest Belian energy,” Adam replied. “Feed some of the psychic signature to Miriam. Miriam, I want you to take the map of San Antonio and use your pendulum to see if you can find the location of the next attack. Or maybe it will show us the Belian’s current location. If those attempts are inconclusive, try the Tarot cards again.”

  “Great,” Miriam said. “Good thing I got two bottles of Pepto last night.”

  Adam looked at Sean. “I expect you to make sure she doesn’t suffer from contact with Belian energy. Continue monitoring the scanner. Touch base—by phone—if either of you gets anything, but give us at least thirty minutes.”

  As Sean and Miriam left, Julia felt her heart rate kick up. When Adam closed the door and turned to face her, her entire body went on red alert. This is ridiculous, she told herself. Just chemistry, pure and simple.

  And yet, that chemistry might be the key to tracking down a monstrous killer. All right, then. Time to get started.

  THIRTEEN

  DAVID Gains lived alone in an efficiency apartment on the southwest side of the city. He was a casualty of military service, having lost part of his right leg during a foray in Desert Storm. He’d suffered more than the injury. They had called it post-traumatic stress syndrome; he called it hell.

  Since then, he’d scraped along. His marriage to his wife, Missy, hadn’t survived his demons, but his daughter, Emily, was the light of his life. He’d buried himself in the one thing he’d excelled in most of his life: sharpshooting. He wasn’t a violent man; he simply found solace in his weapons.

  Today was no exception, as he settled down to clean his newest acquisition, a SIG SG 550 rifle with a flip-up front sight and a collapsible rear stock. The knock on the door surprised him, because he rarely had visitors. He looked through the peephole, felt a rare sense of pleasure. Undoing the dead bolts, he opened the door.

  “Hey, man. This is a surprise. What brings you by?” He slapped his old military buddy on the shoulder. “Come on in.”

  He studied the man who stepped through the door, noticing he looked thinner, and appeared stressed. “Are you doing okay?”

  The other man nodded. “Yeah, I am.”

  “Have a seat. Let me get you a beer.” David headed to the kitchen, somewhat worried about his friend—really the only one he had. Matt had suffered a terrible tragedy a few months ago, and hadn’t been by recently. He didn’t look so good today.

  David grabbed two beers, popped off the tops, and took them back to the living room. He handed one to Matt, sat down opposite him. “So what’s up? Is Sean okay?”

  Matt lifted his gaze from the SIG on the coffee table, smiled. But his eyes looked funny, unfocused. “I need someone to do a job for me, David. And I think you’re the man to do it.”

  “What kind of job?” David’s confusion increased as a wave of dizziness hit him.

  “Yeah, I think you’ll be perf
ect,” Matt said, from a long distance away.

  And everything faded to gray and then to black.

  INFUSED with a new dose of Belian juju, compliments of Sean, Miriam tried to focus on the pendulum over the map, but her stomach was roiling. Man, that Belian energy from the Riverwalk was bad stuff. She’d always had an iron stomach and rarely got sick, but this was nasty. She glanced at the couch, where Sean was seated, setting up the scanner on the coffee table. He didn’t seem affected by the energy, and she wondered how he did it.

  She drew a deep breath, hoping to calm her system. It only made her feel worse. Oh, no. She bolted to her feet and ran to her room, praying she’d make it in time.

  “Miriam! What’s going on?” Sean called after her.

  “Back . . . minute,” she managed before she slammed her door and dashed into the bathroom, where she was violently ill.

  Good grief. She hadn’t thrown up since she was a child, for which she was grateful, as it was a highly unpleasant experience. She sagged back on her heels, closed the lid, and flushed. Her stomach felt better, but now she had a vicious headache brewing. Maybe she’d find the strength to get up in, oh, a few hours or so.

  “Did that help any?” Sean said from behind her.

  Oh, crap. This was mortifying. There were just some things a girl didn’t want a guy—or anyone, for that matter—to see. She so did not need him here. “Go away. I can deal with this.”

  “Yeah, right,” he said, and then she heard water running. A moment later, he put a cool, wet cloth into her hand. “Here.”

  She pressed the cloth to her face, and it seemed to help. “Thanks. Now please leave. I can take it from here.”

  “Do you think you can stand?” He took her arm and pulled her up.

  She made it upright, but was a little shaky on her feet, although she refused to admit it. “Okay, you can go now. I’m fine.” She attempted to step away and stumbled.

  His arm went around her, and he steadied her against his side. “Sure you are. Why don’t I just hang around a little longer?”

  “Better idea—why don’t you just go away?” She turned to glare at him and cringed when a sharp pain spiked in her head.

  “I can tell you have a headache,” he said. “And I’m not leaving.”

  She’d really like to learn how he knew so much, but was too puny to ask right now. She shoved at him. “Do you mind? I’d like to rinse my face.”

  He moved back, and she went to the sink. She splashed cool water over her face, grateful that her eye makeup was waterproof, and then rinsed out her mouth. As she got a towel to wipe her face, she saw he was staring at her array of cosmetics and hair products.

  “Why the hell do you need all this shit?”

  She knew where this was going. “Maybe I like being unique and not looking like everyone else.”

  He gestured toward the vanity. “But most of this stuff makes you look like . . . a freak.”

  Even though there was some truth to his statement, hurt twined through her. She knew what she looked like with the crazy hair and heavy makeup and wild jewelry.

  “Well maybe that’s because I am a freak, which you’ve pointed out yourself,” she said. “Admit it, Sean, I am different. Your average person doesn’t read objects and auras and Tarot cards and have weird dreams.”

  “Having unusual abilities doesn’t make you a freak. Hell, if that was the case, I’d have to point the finger at myself and a lot of other people. But the spiked hair in those weird colors, and the makeup and other shit makes you seem like one.”

  “You know, you’re awfully conservative for being, what, twenty years old?”

  He scowled. “I’m twenty-four.”

  Miriam smiled to herself. She’d figured he was around twenty-four or twenty-five—just wanted to needle him. “Oh, you’re really that old? I guess that makes sense, considering how uptight you are.”

  “Hell. I just”—he ran his hand through his thick dark hair—“I just grew up in an insane environment, okay? I like things to be normal.”

  She suspected he hadn’t meant to reveal that much. “Then let’s just back off the judgment routines and call a truce for now. We might get more done that way.”

  “I’m willing to give it a shot.” He stared at her a moment, his dark eyes serious. She found herself looking at his well-shaped mouth, the solid chin, the one-day beard growth, felt a tingle of warmth. Told her hormones to settle down. She was not a bad-boy kind of girl.

  “Okay, then.” She picked up the Pepto-Bismol and turned toward the door. “A dose of pink stuff, then back to the pendulum.”

  He grasped her arm. “Not yet. Let me work on the stomach and the headache first.”

  “I don’t know. . . . Is it anything like the debugging?”

  He grinned, showing those dimples. “Oh, it’s much worse. Close your eyes.”

  “Why? Does it keep the sacred healing energies from working?”

  He rolled his eyes. “No, it doesn’t. But I need to concentrate, and don’t want to be distracted by you watching me.”

  “All right.” She closed her eyes and waited.

  He placed his hands on each side of her face, like before. She felt the heat and tingling sensations flowing from his hands, felt the calming warmth spread through her head. The throbbing eased, and she “saw” small starbursts of light behind her eyes. Then he pulled his hands away and placed them lower, just below her left breast and over her stomach. More soothing warmth bathed that part of her body, and she could almost feel her stomach unclenching and settling.

  Then it happened again—that slow, seductive slide of desire through her body. Her unruly hormones again sparked to life and sent urgent messages to her breasts and points due south. Every system in her body surged to green light, go. As she struggled to assimilate the sensual assault, surprise turned to anger.

  “Hey!” She stepped back, shoved Sean. “Why are you doing that?”

  His brows shot up. “Doing what?”

  “You know what.”

  He threw up his hands. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

  Did he think she was stupid? “Stop trying to turn me on whenever you touch me.” She started around him.

  “What?”

  She swung back around. “Oh, quit playing games, Sean. And quit messing with me. I don’t appreciate it.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I am not messing with you. And I’m certainly not coming on to you. Believe me, you’re not my type.”

  Dual prongs of embarrassment and anger speared through her. If he found her such a turnoff, then he needed to keep his distance. “The same goes here. From now on, keep your hands and your roving energies to yourself.” She turned and stalked back to the dining table and the map and pendulum.

  She focused on releasing the disruptive emotions. Sean was such a . . . a guy. He was arrogant, obnoxious, angry, and a jerk. And . . . She felt a flare of lust. To be honest, he was sexy as hell. Unfortunately.

  Mind over matter, she told herself. She had a strong intellect and had always been able to focus on, and achieve, her goals. She wasn’t going to let some hotshot bad boy throw her off balance. She was here for a reason, and although she didn’t fully understand why, she knew it wasn’t about Sean Stevens. He was just a distraction—maybe an obstacle thrown out by the sometimes capricious Universe. It was time to get to work on issues that really mattered.

  She took a few moments to center and protect herself. Then she raised the pendulum over the map, and began a slow sweep. “Is this the site of the next Belian attack?” she asked several times, getting negative reactions.

  Sean slouched on the couch, listening to the scanner. They were back to a wall of tension hovering between them. She did her best to ignore it and focus on the pendulum.

  She asked the question again—and nearly jolted out of the chair when the pendulum began circling wildly. “Sean—”

  But he had already seen the pendulum’s movements and was at the
table. “Son of a bitch. Look at that thing go.” Still staring, he pulled out his cell phone and hit Speed Dial.

  “WELL, that was informative,” Julia said sarcastically. “Why aren’t my visions more detailed and helpful? They worked well in Dallas.”

  Adam released her hand. “The Belian in Dallas had already chosen its targets and carefully planned each bombing. This Belian is far less organized, and is probably being distracted and weakened by Matt. Besides, you saw a few things.”

  “Oh, sure, I saw the sun shining down. But I saw that in the vision about the Riverwalk, and it turned out to be dead wrong. And I saw lines of people waiting to go through some sort of gate ahead, but no distinct landmarks. Since we’re already expecting the Belian to attack where there are a lot of people, that’s a shocker.”

  “You expect too much,” Adam said. “Among the lines of people, you saw a lot of teenagers and children. That tells me it’s probably at a theme park.”

  “Well, that narrows it down to two or three places, all of them huge.”

  “I agree it’s still too big an area. We need to do a conduction and see if we can get more information.”

  Julia had suspected it would come to that, and she sighed inwardly. She was tired, mentally and physically, and wasn’t looking forward to a sexual bombardment that was equivalent to sticking a piece of metal into an electric socket. Adam’s insistence that sooner or later, they would engage sexually put her on edge.

  Not to mention those moments of insanity at the pool last night—what had she been thinking? That would also make matters worse. Now she knew how seductive Adam’s lips were, how good he tasted, how she responded to him, to his touch, despite her determination to keep her distance.

  And—for whatever illogical reasons—he’d made it clear he wanted her. She knew better than to believe that he could find her sexy and attractive, so he must have an ulterior motive, which she wouldn’t put past him. Maybe he was hoping to seduce her into a sexual conduction, just so they’d get better results. That was as mortifying as a pity fuck, and made the argument for resisting even stronger.