Darlings of Paranormal Romance (Anthology)

by Chrissy Peebles

  His cell phone rang.

  "Hello." Brandt glanced in his rear view mirror. Other than a semi that he'd passed a few miles ago, the highway was deserted.

  "Brandt, turn around," yelled the captain. "The cops pulled the car over. A stupid assed kid had been paid a hundred bucks to drive the car north as far and as fast as he could. The cops tracked the car. It was stolen yesterday."

  "Shit!" Brandt hit the brakes. His tires squealed loudly as the vehicle spun sideways before coming to a violent, rocking stop across the highway. He turned the wheel and hit the gas. "Call David and warn him. I'm on my way."

  If Brandt thought he drove fast on the way into town, he burned rubber heading to Sam.

  A diversion. A fucking diversion to leave Sam open – and defenseless.

  Christ.

  He tried calling Sam's cell phone. No answer. Shit! She hadn't turned the damn thing on. He called David. No answer.

  Oh, God, please let him be in time.

  ***

  2:24 am

  Sam curled up in bed. She couldn't help feeling terrible about the guard and nurses. She didn't even know how the victim had fared in that confrontation. Hopefully, everyone would survive. Sam really wanted a happy ending to all of this. With the blankets pulled up to her chin, she found herself listening for the phone downstairs announcing the good news. Uneasy, without explanation, Sam found herself giving extra thanks for her bodyguard downstairs. Brandt...well, he'd be home whenever he was done.

  Home. That had such a nice cozy ring to it. Maybe when this mess was over... After twenty minutes of not being able to stop her mind from circling uselessly, she compromised and took a, herbal sleep aid. It wouldn't knock her out the same as a sleeping pill.

  Brandt. A warm contentedness filled her mind. An irritating pinch on her arm made her frown, but then his hands slid over the smooth surface of her hips. Mmmm. Heat flushed through her veins, awaking nerve endings she'd forcibly capped for the last few days.

  Moving sensuously under his soothing caresses, Sam moaned in joy. She reached for him, but let him turn her hands aside as his caresses explored the soft valley of her abdomen. He was purely delicious. He was also too good at what he did. Lost in the sensations of building lust and the unique experience of enjoying her lover's attention, Sam slid deeper under his spell. Placing her hand over his, sliding her fingers gently through and over his, Sam explored his strong muscled hands before sliding slowly up his wrists. They felt different.

  He still had clothes on.

  With a slight moue, she tugged at the sleeve that interfered with her exploration. Gently, he grabbed her hands and raised them over her head, holding her in place. She murmured in delight and tried to tug. It didn't work.

  He bent his head and nuzzled the plump side of her breast through her pajama top.

  Sam moaned and twisted under him. Her stomach roiled, at odds with the rest of the sensations happily flickering though her body. She frowned in confusion.

  His mouth fondled the pouting nipple under the cotton material.

  "Please," she pleaded.

  Silence.

  A tiny bit of doubt crept under Sam's guard. It seemed so real. But so were her visions. A weird fog rolled through her mind. Shit. Realization was slow to come. Brandt was gone. This was another vision. No. Surely not. Sleepiness mixed with the images overlapping in her mind – all in bright Technicolor.

  Heat flashed over her skin at the memories of her previous lovemaking with Brandt. Overlapping were sensations on her skin even now. Hands moved to cup her breasts and squeeze gently. She sighed. But her mind wouldn't relax. Caught in limbo between worlds, she struggled to stay real in another woman's dream. Wanting it to be Brandt, yet knowing the killer had taken another victim.

  His mouth tugged and teased, tantalizing her nipple, bringing her back to a sensual high, all the while her mind operating in the background, struggling to remember Stefan's lessons.

  Teeth clamped lightly on the end of the sensitive nipple.

  Then bit down hard.

  The woman screamed. Sam screamed.

  Her spine arched and she tried to curve away from the pain. Her hands were held above her head, keeping her captive. Her eyes opened. Then closed again in despair.

  Oh God. It was him. She was caught in another vision.

  Sam struggled to separate the vision from the reality.

  Oh, God. Oh, God. The poor woman. Sam knew she could do nothing, but endure. Locked inside her mental labyrinth, Sam felt the victim's pain and horror, as she finally understood.

  She twisted and struggled, hearing the words. "Please don't hurt me." Were they from the victim or her? Sam didn't know. It didn't matter. Both of them wanted this to be over. They wanted to be saved. And they both knew it wasn't going to happen.

  Low masculine laughter filled the room.

  "Please," pleaded the same voice. "Let me go."

  Her arms were wrenched above her head and held in a punishing grip. The attacker pressed down hard on the wrist bones. Pain squeezed through injured nerve endings, ripping scorch lines throughout her body.

  Sam, desperate to separate herself from the woman's pain, tried to seek the blackness of the etheric world. This torture was just beginning. Sam didn't want to be here and most definitely not this early on. She normally came in at the end, those precious few minutes to help the victims cross the line to death.

  She was part of this experience to help the victims and if she could, to help the police find justice for the victims. She wasn't here to suffer. Her mind waffled then raced in different directions from what had to be drugs, sliding insidiously through the victim's veins. She wanted out. Stefan had given her some tips to try, what were they? Right. Grounding herself by following the line of her skeleton down to her feet and imagining them coming from the center of the earth. Except, she hadn't expected to do this under these circumstances. Concentrating was almost impossible. The woman's terror, her pain dominated. Sam struggled to free herself of the dark sucking energy.

  "Samantha."

  Sam's mind froze. Then her heart slammed into her chest.

  Who called her?

  Her eyelids flickered and she was suddenly more afraid than she'd ever been in her life. Never had a vision called her name. She wrinkled her nose. A fetid odor filled her head. Something awful wafted through the air. A metallic bloody smell. God, she didn't want to open her eyes and see what she knew would be there.

  "Look at me, Samantha."

  She forced her eyes wide.

  And found herself in her own bedroom, staring up at the same whitewashed ceiling. She was home. Oh God. She was not alone.

  This time, she was the victim.

  ***

  2:29 am

  Stefan slammed into awareness. Shoving his bedding back, he came to a standing position before he'd even realized what had happened. He couldn't see where he was, his bedroom was seeped in darkness. His curtains were open – still no light shone in.

  Looking around, his hand went to his throat. Jesus. Sam. She was in danger. He reached for his phone. No answer. Shit. He called Brandt. It was busy. Fuck.

  Pushing into a sitting position, he crossed his legs and sent himself deep into a trance. He had to find Sam. Soon. She needed help. Evil was wrapping her up in the dangerous torrent. He had to make her aware...and fast.

  He tried to block out the unwanted thought, then realized it was stopping his gifts. Better to acknowledge the possibility so he wouldn't be crippled by the fear. He knew that before this night was over she'd be fighting for her life

  Or...even worse, he'd be helping her cross over to the other side – to her death.

  ***

  2:39 am

  No!

  She tried to struggle. Panic dimmed her sight as she realized there'd be no waking up this time. There'd be no last minute rescue for her. It was her turn to die.

  It wasn't supposed to happen this way. Where the hell was Brandt? Even as she panicked, vestig
es of old resentment rose to the surface. Why was there no one there to rescue her? Wait. David. Her security guard. Oh no, the poor man.

  I'm here.

  Stefan.

  Call Brandt!

  He knows. He's on his way. Keep fighting.

  I'm trying.

  Fight harder.

  Stefan's voice started to fade. No. Wait. Remember your lessons. Disconnect.

  Her mind cried out for him. There was no answer.

  She glared at the asshole that had hurt so many people. She'd never even seen him before. This time he had no mask. Why? As she tried to focus in on the details of his face, his features zoomed out, leaving her with a faint impression of dark wide-set eyes with heavy brows and thick cheekbones and prominent nose – his eyes black empty holes. His face look oddly colored, out of proportion.

  Drugs. Of course, he'd given her drugs. Different ones this time. Her mind tried to puzzle through the convoluted maze of thoughts, then quickly frazzled out. It didn't matter anymore.

  "What kind of useless psychic are you? You couldn't even see this coming." His mouth twisted into a malevolent mockery of a smile.

  "What did you do to my bodyguard?" She spat the words at him. She twisted in vain.

  He reared backwards. "Must have been a cop. Just as useless as the rest of them." He shifted slightly for a better look at her face. With a big smirk, he added, "You were supposed to be a bigger challenge, being a psychic and all." Coarse laughter filled the room, grating on her ears and sending terror running through her soul. "I was looking forward to this." He stared around in disgust. "Nothing to it. Or you. God, what a loser. Look at this place. It's a dump."

  Evil glistened from his eyes, sourced deep in his soul. It would be a bad day for those who'd crossed him. Like her.

  She, remembering Stefan's lessons, searched for lightness inside her center of being. His blackness was overwhelming. The light sustained her. If she let the blackness gain control, it would be over. If it were her time to die like all the others, then she'd rather go kicking and screaming – and taking a piece of him with her.

  She reached out in her mind's eye. She could barely sense the bodyguard. He was still alive. The dogs' energy was outside her bedroom door. She could almost hear them whining. The bastard had shut it, locking them out. No sign of Brandt or Stefan.

  "Damn you to hell." She glared at him, furious at herself, and the situation.

  He laughed. "Not like you planned, huh?"

  She twisted her head to check the window. It was wide open.

  If she screamed, the dogs still would not be able to get through the door. There was no lock, still she had yet to teach any animal to open the door latch. Soldier was an incredibly determined animal. He was strong enough to break the door down if he wanted to. Or if he were mad enough. If she could find the right trigger. What had she called him in the vet's office so long ago?

  At the top of her lungs, she screamed, "Major, git!"

  "Whoever you're calling – let him come. I'll kill him too."

  His knife slid upward without warning, cutting her throat under her chin.

  Sam screamed. The drugs gave him enormous size. Nothing was needed to emphasize his natural cruelty. He was too big for her to move. Furious and in pain, she struggled for freedom. He laughed again, placing a knee on her chest. In a startling motion, he stabbed the knife into the mattress beside her ear, cutting locks of hair and grasping her throat in both hands.

  "I want to squeeze the life from your body myself, you stupid bitch."

  Black dots appeared before her eyes. Static filled her ears. She automatically grabbed his hands, trying to free her throat from his grasp. She gurgled for air, bucking to get rid of him. To no avail. With her strength gone and almost no air, she collapsed back down. This was the end then.

  Her mind went cloudy. The killer's face blurred. The rage and joy in eyes blended into something pure evil. Her arms fell to her sides.

  The last of her air bubbled from her lungs. Suddenly, the weight was lifted off – she was free. Sam gasped frantically for air, her hands circling her own throat, protectively. She rolled over into a tightly curled up ball, coughing as she gulped for air. "Oh, God," she whispered, her voice barely recognizable.

  Noises penetrated the fog in her mind. Growling, and yelling, thuds and blows surrounded her. She shuffled on the bed to huddle at the headboard, trying to avoid bodies that crashed down beside her. Teeth bared, fur flying, Soldier had locked onto the killer's shoulder. Moses had locked on the man's leg. The killer grunted and punched, kicking any area he could as the three rolled in mortal combat.

  The bedroom door swung in the cold night air.

  Sam winced at the heavy thud of boot on bone. Soldier howled.

  God, Soldier was already injured. She had to help him. Her body refused to respond to her orders. The shine of the blade, still embedded in the mattress, caught her eye. She focused on the shine.

  Her hand grabbed the hilt just as the killer grabbed her arm pulling her back. Sam punched with her free hand and tried to kick. There was too much dog in the way and too many drugs in her system. She stumbled.

  Finding an opportunity, she collected the last of her cohesive energy and lunged, digging her right hand, fingers stiff like claws, into the soft spots of his throat. Her left hand stabbed upward with the knife. He raised his arm defensively. The blade caught his arm and sliced upward, deflecting off bone. He screamed. "Bitch."

  His much longer reach latched around her throat. Sam screamed at Soldier again, "Major. Kill."

  From the corner of her eye, she hardly recognized the dog. His fangs dripped saliva and blood, and the howl coming from the back of his throat was...otherworldly.

  Soldier was on a mission, and she was in the way.

  His lip curled, his shoulders hunched up. Sam pushed herself away in a clumsy movement that tumbled her backwards onto the mattress. She needn't have worried. Soldier's jaw replaced her hands, ripping into her attacker's shoulder. The knife was jerked out of her hand.

  Soldier's howls, dragged from deep down and forced through his clenched jaw, scared her shitless.

  She turned slightly. The killer had the knife raised to bring down on Soldier's spine. "No!" She grabbed his knife arm with both hands and tried to stop him. "You bastard, leave him alone." Her arms trembled. Still, she fought. He grinned at her. She couldn't beat him. He was too strong, and knew it. Soldier continued to howl, splitting the air with his tone. The noise drove through her brain. She groaned, her knees collapsing under her weakening body.

  "God, Brandt, where are you?" She needed him. She screamed silently into the dark of night. Now.

  ***

  2:44 am

  "Jesus." Brandt swore he could hear Sam yelling in his head. It was bad enough hearing Stefan screaming though the phone at him a few minutes ago and knowing no one else could get to her before him.

  The sounds coming from inside the house sent terror stabbing through his heart. 'Hang on Sam! I'm coming," he yelled. Brandt raced through the living room, barely noticing the body collapsed in a pool of blood on the porch. The screams and howls from upstairs pierced the night. He took the stairs two at a time. The scene that greeted him made his stomach churn.

  Blood splattered everywhere. Soldier and Sam were locked in a death fight with a large male, Moses reduced to a crumpled heap of fur on the floor.

  Brandt jumped into the fray, knocking the knife from the killer's hand and pulling Sam loose. She stumbled a few feet then collapsed to the floor. The killer ignored him. Bent on destroying the fury chomping through his shoulder, he immediately locked his hands around Soldier's throat, squeezing tight.

  Bloody bubbles foamed out of Soldier's mouth. Blood coated his fur. The sound coming out from his mouth, an unholy alliance with hell.

  His gun trained on the two still caught in a life and death grip. "Sam, talk to me. Are you okay?"

  "Yes," she mumbled, managing a small nod to reinforce her statem
ent. "I think so." She reached up to her throat, barely able to touch the raw skin. "Save Soldier."

  He spared her a quick glance, slightly reassured that Sam had crawled to Moses and was talking – not very coherently, still she could communicate. "Stay back. I have to get Soldier off first. I don't want to have to shoot him."

  Brandt turned his attention to the still-howling dog locked on to the killer's shoulder. "Let the dog go. I'll get him off you."

  "Like hell.," the killer gasped. "This asshole should have died a long time ago. Worthless piece of shit."

  Brandt didn't know what he was talking about, and it didn't matter right now. Somehow he had to save the dog. For Sam's sake. The killer be damned. "Let go of the dog, or I'll shoot."

  "Fuck you." The killer grinned at him through bared teeth as he removed one hand from Soldier's throat and with a quick twist of his wrist slid a dagger free from his belt and threw it.

  "Brandt!"

  The dagger stabbed into the wall behind Brandt, missing him completely. Brandt didn't miss the killer. The bullet hit him low in the left shoulder. The grin fell off his face as he stumbled to the floor.

  Soldier, now with the upper hand and caught in a blood lust of his own, lunged again. He reclamped his jaws into a tighter grip.

  "Soldier!" Brandt ordered. "Soldier! Stand down." He repeated it twice before the dog stopped trembling and unlocked his jaw. Brandt stepped closer, the gun trained on the killer.

  Soldier curled his lip at him.

  "It's okay, boy. You've done good. Move, Soldier."

  The dog dripped blood from open tissue shinning wetly in the dark.

  "Soldier. Down."

  In the distance, the sound of sirens grew stronger.

  Brandt didn't think the dog was going to listen. Finally in a crippled shuffling movement, the dog slid to the floor. He was hurt, and badly. Brandt kicked the knife away. The killer glared at him, blood pouring from both shoulders.