Patient Darkness: Brooding City Series Book 2

by Shutt, Tom

  That would put them on my trail, though, Alex thought, sipping from her mug. That was an unacceptable tradeoff. Heinrich’s men would be hounds baying for her blood if she didn’t deliver the cash before the day was out.

  Alex took deliberate steps into the living room and opened the drawer of the coffee table. She retrieved a cheap cell phone from inside, one of several burner phones she had purchased this week, and inserted its battery pack. She gulped another mouthful of coffee while she waited for the phone to cycle through its startup sequence.

  After a few moments of perfect silence, she realized something was terribly wrong.

  She could no longer hear the voices in her head. To a normal, well-adjusted individual, the absence would have been noted as a welcome relief—but Alex had never considered herself one of those people. It occurred to her that she had heard nothing from their minds since her return to the apartment late last night. The ambient noise of her neighbors’ thoughts to which she had grown so accustomed was gone, and she felt naked without her shroud of whispers. Alex closed her eyes and attempted to reach out as she always had, extending a psychic probe to touch upon their intimate thoughts.

  Nothing happened.

  Alex shivered involuntarily. “What the fuck?” She slammed her coffee down on the table and ran to her room. She threw on a more presentable outfit—jeans and a loose-fitting shirt—and stalked back toward the front door. After a moment’s consideration, she grabbed the burner phone from the coffee table before leaving the apartment, letting the door slam unceremoniously behind her.

  It was early in the day, and she heard a few disgruntled voices respond to the noise she made. She disregarded their petty concerns. Her body trembled with fury and fear as she jabbed the button for the elevator. Its doors opened lazily, and she stabbed the button for the sixteenth floor.

  By the time she arrived in front of Benjamin’s door, Alex had cooled from burning rage to simmering frustration. Still, her knuckles landed heavily on the thick wooden door, and the booming of her knocks reverberated down the hall. The door opened, and she was greeted by Benjamin’s wrinkled face sprouting from a ridiculously luxurious white bathrobe. A pair of sunglasses sat perched atop his head, and he held his folded white cane beneath one arm.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit so early in the day?” he asked. His perfectly cordial tone would have sounded ironic and sarcastic coming from anyone else. Coming from Benjamin, the question merely rang with polite curiosity.

  “There is something seriously wrong with my power,” Alex told him without preamble.

  Benjamin pulled the glasses down over his milky white eyes and peered at her. She wasn’t sure what the blind man saw, but his expression darkened after a moment. “I see. Please, come inside.” He turned to allow her room to enter.

  Alex stepped inside the apartment and was struck again by how dark the room was kept. Shadows clung to the walls like cobwebs and the air tasted stale in Alex’s mouth. She felt a strange chill in the air, as if the specter of death was looming just around the corner. Considering the patient in the back room, that might very well have been the case.

  “May I interest you in anything?” Benjamin asked, sidling past her with fluid grace. “Coffee? Biscuit?”

  “No, thank you,” she said tersely. “I need you to explain what the hell is going on with me.”

  Benjamin clicked his tongue at her as he retrieved a mug from the kitchen cabinet. He poured a cup of coffee for himself. “You need to relax, my dear, and find your grace.”

  “My grace?”

  “Your center of balance, your calm and happy place.”

  “I would be calm,” Alex said through gritted teeth, “if I knew how to fix this. Now.”

  “Please, come join me.” He pulled out a chair for her.

  Alex glared at him for a moment before remembering he couldn’t see it. Reluctantly, she accepted the offer and sat down with a wearied sigh. “When we first met, you said that I had spoken to you telepathically, that I had called out to you.”

  Benjamin murmured assent as he sipped from his cup.

  “That isn’t me,” she argued. “I’ve only ever been a mind-reader. I didn’t mean to call out to you, or whatever.” Alex was unable to see past Benjamin’s sunglasses as he stared at her.

  “And yet you did,” he said finally. “It would seem that your power has evolved to another level.”

  “Another level?”

  “I have been working on a theory to explain these powers. You and I are connected, I am sure of it. Our abilities extend above and beyond those of traditional Sleepers.”

  “I’m not a Sleeper,” Alex said.

  “To become one would be a minor task to someone of your caliber. Untrained, unguided, you have already gained control of your ability and made it into part of your daily routine, wearing it as casually as one might throw on a cloak. I do not share in your power, but I can sense when it is in use.”

  “So you can sense that I’m not using it now.”

  “Precisely.” Benjamin removed his sunglasses, and from the way his eyes searched her face, Alex suddenly felt that he could see much more than his blindness suggested. “I have said before that I am a Pathfinder—”

  “And that I was a Reader, yes. Whatever that means.”

  He cleared his throat. “I am now reconsidering that position.”

  “Meaning what, exactly?”

  “Within the context of my theory, we are all connected. You, myself, even Arthur Brennan. Our unique abilities suggest a web of interconnectedness, or in my working model, a tree.”

  “A tree?”

  “From one trunk stem many branches,” Benjamin said cryptically. “I believe that your jump from a Reader to a Speaker is akin to a squirrel leaping from one branch to the next. Same tree, new branch.”

  “Are you coming up with these terms out of thin air? Reader? Speaker?”

  Benjamin smiled lightly. “There is a touch of madness to my method. Regardless, there is nothing to fear in this new power of yours. If you will pardon the pun, I believe you are merely branching out.”

  Alex resisted the urge to smack him. “But now I can’t do either one!”

  Benjamin idly drummed his fingers on the table. “This is a crisis of the conscience. Something disquiets your heart and mind, and until you can quell this inner turmoil, it is possible that you will be unable to access your powers again.” His fingers stopped drumming and made a steeple beneath his chin. “Fascinating.”

  “Fascinating? Are you kidding me? None of what you just said makes any sense. I don’t have any inner turmoil, so stop projecting your problems onto me. The only reason you think I have issues is because you can’t deal with the reality that your grandson is never going to leave that bed!”

  “And now we have come to the heart of the matter,” Benjamin said. He sat erect in his chair and regarded her with a calm expression. “Tell me, how is your mother doing these days?”

  “If you’re trying to get me mad, you’ve succeeded,” Alex said with deadly calm.

  “You believe yourself incapable of love—”

  “I’ve never told you that.”

  “Do you dispute it now?” Benjamin asked.

  Alex remained silent.

  “You feel true love for your mother, regardless of what you believe. She is alive today because of the love for her shared by you and your father. You both desperately seek a cure, yet you have conceded the fact that there is simply not enough time for her.”

  “How do you know all of this?”

  “I knew your father, once upon a time. We still keep tabs on him.”

  Alex’s spine crawled when he said that, since it meant Sleepers were almost undoubtedly involved more intimately in their lives than she had ever known.

  “The love you have for your mother is your anguish,” Benjamin continued. “Just as I grieve for my grandson, you too are suffering on her behalf. It is the curse of the living to mourn the
dead and dying.”

  Alex frowned. “That doesn’t sound right at all. My mother wouldn’t want us to be hurt because of her. No matter what she is going through, misery does not love company. She wouldn’t believe that, at any rate.”

  “Do you want my advice?” Benjamin asked. “Go home and rest. Your power is like a muscle that has been pulled and stretched in unfamiliar ways over the past few days. I believe it will recover if you let it.”

  “That’s it? Bed rest?”

  “This is a new development, the likes of which I have never seen before. It will take time to understand more completely,” Benjamin said.

  Alex stared at him, dumbfounded. “I thought you were the Pathfinder. Can’t you find the path that gets my powers back?”

  “I am not all-knowing. That is—was—the power of another much younger than myself.”

  “Was?” Alex echoed. “What happened to him?”

  “He died before his time,” Benjamin said soberly.

  Alex rose from the table and started heading toward the door. “Not very all-knowing of him.”

  “None of us may know the manner of our deaths, nor choose the hour of our passing. We can only live in the here, in the now, with what we know and what we have been given.”

  “Great,” she said. “I’ll put that on a bumper sticker.”

  “Alex,” Benjamin called sharply, arresting her march out the door. “There is still the matter of directing Arthur Brennan toward our serial killer. Has he been made aware of the connection between the victims?”

  “I’m working on it,” she said shortly.

  Benjamin sighed and walked over, using his guiding cane more for show than function. “I will speak to him myself,” he said.

  “I can handle this—”

  “You have already proven yourself incapable of the task. You will arrange a meeting for us, and I will convince him of my sincerity.”

  “How will you do that? He’s pretty high-strung, especially after he nearly died yesterday.”

  “And whose doing was that?” Benjamin asked mildly. Alex remained silent. “He will know the truth of my words. Your only task now is to put us in the same room.”

  “How do you know he will listen to me in the first place?”

  “He trusts you. Was that not the point of your little exercise yesterday?”

  Alex didn’t bother asking how he knew about the staged attack. “I only spoke to him telepathically. How do you expect me to do that now?”

  “Recover quickly,” Benjamin commanded. “Lives depend on it, yours included.”

  Bastard.

  “When do you want the meet to happen?”

  “As soon as possible.” Benjamin paused for a second. “Considering his current state, I can settle for noon. That should be sufficient time for the painkillers to take effect and mask his wounds.”

  Alex stepped out into the hall. “You really think he’ll show?”

  “He has every reason to,” Benjamin replied. “As I said, lives truly do depend on us, and his hero complex will allow for nothing less.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  High blood pressure and an erratic heartbeat caused the hospital to insist that Brennan stay overnight.

  Clara had gone home immediately after being discharged, and Brennan didn’t think he would be hearing from her anytime soon. The night had been pretty good up until the assault, though, and it was a shame that things could not have ended on a more normal note.

  When he arrived back at his apartment, Brennan found Greg asleep on the couch with a packed overnight bag resting on the floor by his head. He smiled, feeling amused and slightly guilty that his nephew had been fully prepared to receive a text that was never forthcoming.

  Brennan opened a kitchen drawer and retrieved the plain golden ring that lay inside. One ring to rule them all, he mused, slipping the wedding band back around his finger. It felt comfortable where it rested, like a piece of himself had been restored just by wearing it.

  A small black box, rectangular and about the size of his palm, was nestled in the back corner of the drawer. Brennan stared at it for a long moment before shutting it away to the darkness again.

  “G’morning, Uncle Arty,” Greg mumbled. He rubbed his eyes as he sat up on the couch. “How was your night?”

  “Best date I’ve had in years,” Brennan replied dryly.

  “Umm, what’s up with the sling? I’m familiar with rough sex, but this seems extreme.”

  Brennan looked down at the arm that was braced against his chest. “That is actually a fascinating question.” He paused. “Wait, you’re familiar with—”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “You’re using protection, though, right?”

  Greg smirked. “No need for a gun, Uncle Arty. My dates are less aggressive than yours, apparently.”

  Brennan didn’t even know his nephew was sexually active, but he also didn’t care to think about it in too much detail. “How is the job search going?” he asked instead.

  “I have a few irons in the fire.”

  “Meaning?”

  Greg sighed. “I’ll start looking today.”

  “Good,” Brennan said, heading toward the bedroom. “I’m going to change out of these clothes, and then I’m meeting Sam uptown. Are you good to be on your own for today?”

  “I could always use some extra cash for pizza or something.”

  “Get a job,” Brennan guffawed, and he closed the bedroom door. He dropped his tattered suit jacket on the bed and slipped the loosened tie from around his neck. His right arm had recovered from its brief dislocation the night before, though his fingers worked stiffly as they undid the buttons of his white dress shirt. The other arm tingled as he gingerly shrugged out of his shirt and threaded his arm through its sleeve. Small burn marks traced along the outside of his arm, but they were not nearly as critical as he had previously believed. It was only at the doctor’s insistence that he even bothered to wear the sling. For now, though, he felt comfortable removing the harness from around his shoulder. Goosebumps rose on his skin as his arm was exposed to the open air.

  After he stepped out of the rest of his clothes, Brennan proceeded to the bathroom and turned the shower handle counterclockwise as far as it would go. Hot water filled the stall as steam started forming overhead. His mirror was almost completely obscured before Brennan stepped beneath the spray. He groaned as the water splashed against open cuts and ran in rivulets down his legs. His shoulders flexed almost involuntarily, exposing as much skin as possible to the scalding water. It stung a bit, especially when some landed on his wounded arm, but the pain it brought was strangely welcome. Brennan turned his head and let out another low moan as the stiff muscles in his neck started to loosen up under the water’s treatment.

  Mmm, so your nephew had the right of it, he heard suddenly. You like it rough.

  Brennan gripped the support bar in the shower stall as his feet slipped in surprise at hearing the voice again. Who are you? he demanded.

  The woman who guided you to safety last night.

  At least now he had a gender to work with.

  Yes, I let that detail slip on purpose, the woman added, answering his unspoken realization and follow-up question. Benjamin wants to speak with you.

  If he had been surprised before, now Brennan was floored—literally. His legs gave out, and he hissed in pain as his head slammed back against the ceramic wall.

  “Uncle Arty?” Greg called from the other side of the door. “Are you okay?”

  What did you say? he asked.

  Benjamin wishes to speak, the woman repeated calmly. Noon. He said you would know where.

  Brennan lifted himself up in the tub and attempted to regain some measure of composure. What makes Benjamin think that I want to talk to him? That I want to have anything to do with him?

  There was a pause, and when the woman’s voice returned, it carried a sharp edge. What makes you think this is up for negotiation? she asked rhet
orically. This is much bigger than the two of us.

  What are you talking about?

  The serial killer. Her blunt declaration sent shivers down Brennan’s spine, despite the warm water currently flattening his hair against his skull. And you and Benjamin have history to resolve. He will see you at noon.

  Hey! I didn’t agree to anything!

  His outrage was met with silence, and he knew she had disappeared on him again.

  “Uncle Arty?” Greg called again, knocking.

  “I’m fine,” Brennan said aloud. “I just slipped, but it’s all good.”

  “If you say so.” A minute later, he heard the living room television turn on.

  Brennan remained sitting in the tub as hot water continued to spray the top of his head. A small waterfall cascaded from the incline of his forehead down to his chest as he contemplated the psychic savior’s words. His power told him that everything she had said was true, a fact which made him less eager to meet with Benjamin. If a monster like Benjamin was coming to him for help, there was something seriously dangerous afoot, something which he was just barely beginning to comprehend.

  Death is coming to Odols.

  The ominous prediction echoed in Brennan’s mind. Benjamin knew more about this string of deaths than anyone in the police department, he was sure of it now. He had known for months that this deadly game was set to unfold. As much as it pained him to admit, Brennan recognized that his old mentor—the traitorous bastard responsible for Mara’s death—was now his best hope for gaining momentum in his investigation.

  With slow, labored movements, Brennan grasped the shower bar and pulled himself up to his feet. He shut off the water and grabbed a fresh towel from the nearby rack as droplets formed on the lines of his face and arms. He dried himself off with little regard for his injuries, once more drawing on the pain as a temporary distraction from his current predicament.

  Brennan returned to his bedroom and flipped open the laptop that was sitting on the bed. His CopAFeel inbox was empty, as he had expected, and he gave up any hope that he would hear from Clara again. With a resigned sigh, he opened his email and saw a new message from Sam. His eyes scanned the page quickly, picking out the crucial information in between thick blocks of joking banter about his dinner date last night.