by Dale Mayer
“I feel like I need to be here,” she whispered. “I know I can’t help, but if there is anything I can do in any way then please let me know.”
Gordon’s voice deepened, a long heavy sigh escaping before he said, “I will, but I wish you’d go home.”
She smiled up at him. He was such a good man. She might not be able to see much, but she could see a color with everyone and Gordon’s pale blues were lovely. That said a lot about him. “I know you do. But I’ll sit here quietly for a little while. If you hear anything let me know.”
“Will do.” She listened to hear if his footsteps faded away. But a large noisy group of people moved past, making it impossible to separate all the sounds. There was no plausible reason for her continued stubbornness in staying here. She’d been offered several chances to go home but she hadn’t been able to leave. Cindy was dead. Bruce was dead. Jacob was fighting for his life and was currently in surgery. How could she leave him to fight alone?
People walked past her in a continuous wave. She had no idea if they were friends or family of the injured or if they were here for unrelated events. She was so tired, but she couldn’t let go of the fear that whispered through her veins, flowing on the river of her blood, making every breath that much harder to get out.
Her fingers clutched the soothing rock she’d hung onto for years. It felt right in her hand. Held special meaning in her heart. And had become her comfort in times of great stress. She carried it everywhere, all the time.
“Are you okay?” A quiet, deep and – oh God – smooth-as-chocolate voice spoke from beside her. She’d been so lost in all the traffic she’d disappeared into the quiet of her mind and hadn’t noticed the stranger sitting down beside her.
Her nostrils flared at the man’s cologne. She’d never smelled it before. She was sure of it. There was nothing about it she recognized, but…there was something familiar. The answer darted into her mind then disappeared before she could grasp it.
She was losing it. Confused. Disoriented. It had to be from the chaos she’d been through tonight. This was not a good place for her to be. Not that she’d tell him that. “Yes,” she said quietly. “I’m okay.”
“You looked to be having a little trouble,” that rich voice said with a gentleness that touched her. Except she didn’t need his pity. Or anyone else’s.
She tilted her lips at the corner politely and straightened. “I’m fine.” She firmed her voice and added some strength to the tone. Maybe he’d believe her this time and leave her alone.
“Good.”
He slumped down in the chair, his knee accidently brushing her as it slid past. Sparks leapt between them. She jumped. He leaned forward. “I’m sorry. Did I scare you?”
She tilted her head, letting that smooth, silky voice wash over her. God, it was magnetic. Making her want something…something more than what she had. “No, you just surprised me. I’m a little jumpy, that’s all.”
“No wonder. If you were in this tragedy at the pub then you have good reason.”
She winced. Her instinct said to keep her mouth shut. This man could be a reporter. He could be an insurance investigator. She had no idea. He was a stranger…and yet not a stranger. And that “not a stranger” part disturbed her more.
“No. I wasn’t.” She offered the white lie without a qualm then settled back and closed her eyes. “Now if you don’t mind I’m going to rest a bit.”
And she shut him out.
*
“Stefan, are you at the hospital?” Brandt asked.
Stefan frowned into his cell phone. Damn psychics. Was there no privacy? “Why,” he snapped, “would you ask such a question?”
Brandt laughed. “Because everyone knows how attached you are to Celina. And the psychic grapevine tells me she’s been in an accident. How is she?”
“How would I know?” Stefan said moodily as he stared at the dark beauty beside him who had already shut him out. She appeared to be fine, maybe shaken up a little. He wanted to talk to her but couldn’t find an opening. Talk about frustrating.
He stood and walked a few steps away so he wouldn’t disturb her. Why he’d come down here he didn’t know. He was obsessed with her. And damned if that didn’t make him angry. Though he knew she was his natural mate, it didn’t make a damn bit of difference if she didn’t acknowledge it. At the rate they were going she wasn’t going to let him close enough to acknowledge anything.
That was the problem with his psychic knowledge. He knew too much at times. Waiting for Celina to find him, to know him and really see him had been hard, but now that the time was getting closer… it was almost impossible.
He was doing what he could to help breach the gap between them, letting her get used to his energy. Sitting beside her, so close – and yet there might as well have been oceans between them. Except he could see tiny energy flares flicking his way. Easing down his own guard, he let her energy flares mingle with his, tentative, then interested, questing but reserved. Always reserved.
Maybe an instinctive reaction to strangers? Maybe a reaction to him?
He hoped not. The road ahead was already turbulent.
“I need help. And you need something else to focus on.” Brandt’s voice turned brisk and businesslike. “If you’re at the hospital we’re close. If you can meet me outside, I’ll swing by on the way home.”
Stefan frowned. “I’m not sure I’m recovered enough to be much help.” He ran his fingers through his longish hair. Time for a cut again. Where did the weeks ago? Oh yes, that last case with a psychic killer – yet another one – had wiped him out.
In spite of himself Stefan felt his flagging spirits lift. What did that say about him that a series of cases, probably death and destruction, interested him? He’d been doing this work for too long. He needed a break.
A real rest.
He turned to stare at Celina. As if aware, she turned those blind eyes his way. He’d already sent out a probe to see if he could touch her aura. She’d rebuffed him immediately. That wasn’t good. She needed to let him in.
But then, since she didn’t know him, why would she let him in? Then again, she rebuffed his energy like a pro – and how did that work? Was she psychic? He’d often assumed any partner of his would be, but had contemplated the joys of one that wasn’t. He had enough upsetting nights, edginess with energy flares and disturbed dreams for several people. Being around non-psychic people was calming, soothing in a way. At the same time they didn’t understand him or his work or what he could be going through at any given moment.
“Hey Stefan, snap out of it, will you? Sam’s going through some weird stuff. I’ve done some research but I could use your take on it to help sort through this mess. Can we meet or not?”
“Fine. I need to go home too.” He stared at his watch in disbelief. He hadn’t once considered the time when he’d thrown on clothes and rushed down here to be with her. “Can’t believe it’s after two in the morning already.”
“Meet me in the parking lot in five.” Brandt hung up.
Stefan stared at the horrible pastel walls, hearing the muted sobs in the background. He hated hospitals normally and wouldn’t come willingly. Had actually shored up his own defenses to come in. As the foreign energies buffeted him on all sides he realized it was past time to leave.
With a last lingering look at Celina he started to walk away when he felt something odd. He spun around, but the hospital waiting room was empty other than Celina and… a few ghosts. She sat in the same place, her head now resting back and her eyes closed. A simple fog of energy floated toward him. From her? From someone else? He reached out a hand and the fog retreated. He stepped forward and the fog dissipated. Instantly.
The hairs on the back of his neck lifted. He stared at Celina but she never shifted.
Instinctively he backed up a step and then another. What the hell – or who the hell – was that?
He glanced around the room a second time, reassured himself that the ghostly visito
r was no longer there, and turned around and left. Sometimes he saw too much.
*
He shuddered, the weakness spreading throughout his being. He didn’t know where he was. Who he was. Or maybe what he was. That was a better way to say it. His existence had spread so thin, his mind so weak, his strength so nonexistent.
It was getting harder to keep his thoughts together. But clarity was elusive. There and gone again. Solid then vaporous. And always worse after he focused everything he had and managed to execute one more step in his plan. The massive effort draining his reserves, as if the shock was too much for his system and he needed to reboot.
He needed to grab onto something – someone – and focus again. Likely, onto her. She made a great target. He could do more. Say more – be more when he was with her. But after he left it was as if he closed in on himself – worse off than before. As if the effort to be there in that form took more out of him than anything else. This reaction was lessening the stronger he became, but there was still a weakening of his senses when he left her. As if she were taking something from him.
Which added to his hatred.
This existence was not what he’d wanted. Not what he’d thought would happen to him. It was good and it was really horrible. How could he survive with so many fragments of reality? How could he pull this disjointed existence into something stronger? More coherent? He desperately needed to. This couldn’t last. He couldn’t last. But now, more than ever he wanted to. There was something he needed to do. Someone who needed to pay. He had to survive long enough to see his plans through.
This life was empty and yet overflowing at the same time.
He was dying. One little bit at a time. Not like death in the normal way, but a strange, slow, drifting way.
There had to be a way to cut off the deadwood pulling him in all directions – and faster than the slow-ass method he’d been employing. It was taking too long given the weakness and lassitude in his mind.
If only he could think clearly.
There were moments of clarity when he could speak out. Then times when the world was so muffled any action was impossible. Even as he worried on the issue, an answer drifted closer then drifted away. But he’d seen just enough to remember the plan. The plan he’d already been undertaking.
Now he knew what to do.
He hoped.
Chapter 3
“Celina, do you know who that man was?” Gordon asked, walking into the small waiting room, his voice odd, muted.
Celina opened her eyes, a reflexive habit, and said, “No.”
“Hmmm.” Gordon didn’t sound convinced. “He was looking at you pretty intently.”
“He was just being friendly. Whoever he is he got a phone call and left.”
“As long as he wasn’t bothering you. I came to tell you that Jacob came through the surgery just fine. He’s lost a lot of blood and they will keep a close eye on him overnight in the ICU, but they’re optimistic about his chances for a full recovery.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful news.” She jumped to her feet, her hand instinctively going to her chest. She beamed up at him. “Is there any chance of seeing him?”
“No, not tonight.” The relief in his voice shaded her disappointment. “He needs to rest. Come on, let’s get you a cab.”
“Wait, I have to grab my purse.” She turned back and bent to the floor for her larger-than-any-purse-should-be tote and straightened. “Now I’m good to go.”
“I can’t imagine what you carry inside that thing. It’s big enough for you to almost crawl inside and have a nap.”
“That’s my secret to staying alert all day.” She stumbled and righted herself. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I hadn’t realized how tired I am.”
“Comes from sitting here all night while still in shock yourself. A good night’s sleep will help.”
“I’m fin–” A big yawn caught her by surprise. She moaned lightly when her mouth finally closed. “Sorry, that one almost hurt.”
“Like I said.”
She walked at his side, grateful that she could follow his colors since she hated being led around. Jacob had always ignored that preference, telling her she was being stubborn and too independent. She sighed. At least Jacob was going to be okay. She’d known him for a long time. More than a friendship, they shared music in their soul. Like any creative person, finding someone else to whom the expression of that art meant the same thing was like finding a soul mate without all the highs and lows of a sexual relationship. Yet in a way it was creation at its best. Supported and shared. The lead ball of fear in her stomach broke into small pieces and started to dissolve – finally. She walked taller, straighter, as the weight of this horrific night slipped off her shoulders. She couldn’t help her dead friends, but if there was anything she could do for the others she would be there for them. So what if she was blind? She wasn’t helpless. However, as she collapsed into the back of the cab, she realized how exhausted she really was. A decent night’s sleep and she’d be just fine.
Not likely.
She stiffened, her defenses that she’d let slip in her fatigue slamming back into place. Go away.
Why would I do that? This is the fun part. The aftermath. All the angst and remorse. See, you could have prevented this.
She gasped.
“What’s the matter?”
A rush of air brushed past her cheek. Was Gordon that close?
“Did you forget something?” He asked from right in front of her as if leaning in close.
“No,” she said quickly. “Sorry, I was just thinking of some things I needed to take care of earlier.” Like hell, but she didn’t dare let on what was happening. Besides, who would believe her?
“Tomorrow is another day. You’ll have lots of downtime now. The show is cancelled until further notice.” He added as he backed away, “Go home and rest.”
She closed the door and the cab slowly pulled away.
She hadn’t considered that. To lose the show wasn’t such an issue, but to not play – that was a big deal. It was her healing. Her outlet. Stress release was what some would call it. A connection to the rest of the world in ways she couldn’t explain.
A friend of hers had once suggested her music was so powerful it was magic. She’d laughed at the time, but had often wondered at the joy that coursed through her soul when she played. It healed her. She didn’t think anyone else received the same benefit though. Too bad.
The cab pulled up to the front of her secured apartment building. She opened her door. “Thank you so much for the ride.”
“Do you need a hand in?” the driver asked.
“No, thank you though. I’ll be fine.”
“Well, if you’re sure,” he said doubtfully.
She dredged up a confident smile and said, “I’ll be okay. Thank you.”
And she turned and faced her apartment building. Of course she’d be fine. What else could go wrong this night?
*
Stefan walked outside into the clear, sparkling night and stopped for a moment to stare up at the twinkling lights. It was truly beautiful and so mysterious. Like so much of the world. He took several deep breaths of fresh air, waiting for the tension and soreness along his back to ease. A holiday would be good. Except when he took a break his damn ghosts went with him too.
He continued to the parking lot and reached his vehicle as Brandt arrived. He waited for his friend to get out. “You should be home with Sam, not here working on more crazy cases.”
“Sam is waiting for me now. If I’d never been called out you couldn’t have pried me from her arms.” Brandt grinned, leaving Stefan no doubt how loving those arms would be. “But as long as we’re both here…”
Stefan smiled slowly. He loved to see his many psychic friends partner up and grow and mature into the type of loving relationships everyone dreams of having. Sam had been one of the most tormented psychics he’d ever met. And one of the most talented.
“How are her lessons
going?” Stefan leaned against his car, the light from the lamppost shining on his face.
“She’s doing really well.” Brandt’s face lit up until he caught sight of Stefan’s face. His smile fell away. “What’s wrong? You don’t look so good.”
Stefan shrugged. “Life has been a little rough lately.”
“And yet life has been pretty smooth and easy these last few days – until tonight.”
“Maybe too smooth.” Stefan’s lips quirked. “Too easy.”
Brandt’s gaze sharpened. “Is something stirring?”
“Always,” Stefan responded. “More than usual? Maybe. It’s a little too early to say.”
Brandt crossed his arms and rocked on his heels. “Then I’m glad I brought this file. These are cases possibly connected to Sam’s current visions. She’s having weird attacks but isn’t ready to talk about it yet. She says she’s not connected to any person at this time – thank God – but she said something weird.”
Stefan leaned forward. Anytime Sam had something weird to say he wanted to hear it.
Brandt continued, “She said someone is walking in between.”
Stefan frowned. “I may have to call her about that. There have been more tears in the energy fields. I don’t have a cause for them.”
“Big tears?” Brandt asked carefully. “As in something evil coming across to raise some major hell?”
“I don’t know,” Stefan said. “It’s strong, it’s focused, but they are all small events. I can’t even say they are connected. But the more of them there are the more concerned I get.”
“Right. If you’re concerned you know I’m terrified. Keep me posted, and please do call Sam. She needs her rest. Maybe talking to you will help.”
Stefan nodded. Sam was a beautiful person inside and out, and her talent taxed her physical body worse than anyone else he knew. He asked, “Now why am I here when I could be home in my own bed?”
“For one, I want to make sure you’re okay. For you to go to a hospital and remain for longer than a few minutes, something must be going on. And from what I understand the energy you have to expend to stay there is brutal, and that means you’re not only exhausted but also very connected to someone involved in that nasty accident. Celina, of course.”