He dropped the knife as his anger morphed to surprise. My blood pooling on the floor made the old tile slippery enough for me to flip on my side underneath him and dive for the weapon.
He crawled on all fours after me and smashed my head into the ground, stunning me. Phil retrieved his knife before I could shake myself back into action. I shifted as he dived at me and the knife sunk into my shoulder. I could feel the pain, but with my exhaustion, it was more like pressure.
The blade must have become to slippery, because on his next upward stroke, it flew out of his hands.
Whatever he cut in my shoulder removed all control of my arm. This couldn’t last much longer.
Phil yelled in frustration and scrambled to his feet, heading to the torture instruments table by the window. Before I reached the door to the hallway, his weight fell over me again. I swore he’d gotten heavy. Phil pushed a finger into the torn flesh around the blade wound on my shoulder. My scream was cut off by his happiness at my pain.
I laughed over my sobs.
“You see, you should have cooperated. You would have lived much longer, and enjoyed it almost as much as me. George Martinez died with a smile on his face.”
It wasn’t fair. How could he do that? Usurp my feelings, my emotions, and replace them with his own when he claimed to have so little. I could experience Phil’s joy and anger, but he couldn’t feel my pain.
The closest thing I’d ever seen to a two-way conversation emotionally was the Collector leaving his message on the globe. That had been intentional, not an accident of chance like most impressions. My mind kept going back to the message, the omen that ultimately led to my murder. There was something there, something I could use, if only I could focus long enough to come up with a plan.
My lips parted in laughter. I screamed in my mind at the traitorous bits of my body. The pain was mine. I didn’t want to give him more joy by being the living lie detector that translated his own emotions for him.
Phil wrenched my wrists over my head—making sure his skin always touched mine—and straddled my body. I kicked my legs but couldn’t dislodge him. With quick, practiced strokes, he slashed the meatiest part of my arm.
The pain intensified as I struggled, my very act of resistance opened my wounds wider. A wash of Phil’s joy made me laugh.
Phil laughed with me. “I thought I’d won the lottery when I found that meeting of people like you. It was like a whole herd of food for a hungry lion. And you’ve been the best meal so far. Too bad I have to end it so soon.” He ripped apart my shirt and scraped the knife between my breasts, almost tenderly.
My peripheral vision faded as blackness clawed at my conscious mind. My pain dulled. My empathy faltered. In what could be my last moment, I found clarity. Each feeling was played on a different frequency. If I focused on one, I could reproduce it and impress a living memory on an object. I knew it to be true as much as I knew I was bleeding to death.
“You know what?” The words snuck out of my clenched teeth. “I’m done entertaining you.”
The empath killer pushed the tip of the thin, boning knife into the skin just above my heart. “Oh, are you?”
This time I embraced the pain. I focused on every nerve and let the agony of each injury swell in my mind. The sensation was so intense I almost passed out again. Instead, I concentrated on its energy signature.
With his other hand, Phil poked at the wound on my shoulder. I screamed but kept my focus on the pain instead of trying to run from it. Phil smiled as he placed his other hand flat over the shoulder wound. His happiness tried to coat my agony, but I blocked it.
His forehead crinkled and his smile dropped. “What’s happening?”
I bit my tongue when he twisted the tip of the boning knife on my sternum. The taste of my own blood only strengthened my resolve.
His joy turned to anger. I could feel the change, but I refused to reflect it. It was much easier to block them as soon as I recognized the frequency.
I looked into his crisp blue eyes that shined with joy at his complete power over me. And I knew. It was time for Phil to feel what I did.
I would leave my impression on him.
Instead of the knife handle, I squeezed his wrist with my one working hand. By bundling the pain from my foot and my shoulder and the cuts and puncture wounds on my chest and arms, I forged a ball of agony as a weapon, and forced it through my hand into Phil.
Shock flashed across his face as he cried out and fell to his side. He looked at his foot as if someone had attacked him. Someone had, but he looked in the wrong direction.
I could only take short breaths. All of my strength focused on holding his wrist and funneling my pain into Phil.
I wrapped my good leg around his waist so he couldn’t pull away. I didn’t know how much longer I could keep holding, but he would feel it all before I died. His left arm fell to his side as I shared my agony and helplessness with my attacker.
Phil looked up in horror. “What are you doing?”
This time the happiness was my own. Every time he decided to slice up another of my kind, he would remember my pain and his joy would be tainted.
My fingers loosened as my vision flashed red. Phil yanked his hand back and rolled my weakened leg off him. He took a deep, relieved breath.
The anger must have radiated from him again as he seemed to have an unending supply, but I could no longer feel anything. My muscles gave up their fight and my body flopped against the peeling linoleum. My vision narrowed and lost focus.
A shadow of the monster lifted the knife high overhead in a double-handed grip. A snarl escaped his lips, but no words.
As the knife came down, I heard a shout from behind me. Phil’s head angled up, but the knife continued toward my heart.
Two explosions in quick succession tore open Phil’s chest. He dropped the knife and collapsed beside me.
The last thing I saw as the darkness claimed me was his icy blue eyes fade to a dull lifeless hue.
Chapter Thirty-Three
When I woke up, my body squeezed against itself like I was still bound to that bed, but this time more securely. Shocked to still be alive, I took in a quick, panicked breath. Pain shot through my torso on the inside and ripped through my skin on the outside. I cried out and tried to focus on my surroundings to access the danger I was in.
“Shh.” Detective Flores gripped my hand, gentle warmth relaxed my tense muscles as his calm drained my panic. “You’re safe, Fauna. He’s gone.”
As my logical mind took in the clues, rubbing alcohol floating over sickness, push tile ceilings, crisp, bleached sheets, I relaxed into the mattress, relieved to be in a hospital.
I smiled at him through my tears. “Those explosions I heard were you.”
His face darkened. “I had no choice. He didn’t drop the knife.” He rubbed his nose with his other hand. “I wasn’t even sure you were still alive until I found a weak pulse.”
“I wasn’t sure I was still alive.” I tried to sit up, but my right shoulder screamed at me. “Shit, everything hurts. I guess that means I’m going to make it.”
Flores chuckled. “I’ll get the doctor to do something about the pain.”
“It’s not that bad. Those things make me loopy.” I had too many questions to be knocked out with pain meds. “How did you find me?”
“I compared the license plate numbers on the street to the ones Collins recorded from the community center. We got a match for Philip Tanner, real estate mogul. We couldn’t get a warrant on such circumstantial evidence. When you and I got disconnected, I found the knife handle with the tag like you mentioned and matched that to an anonymous bank account from offshore in the Collector’s ledger.
“We didn’t know for sure it was Tanner’s, but it was the same kind of set up we’d seen before with wealthy perpetrators. Collins and I split up his properties to look for you. When a 911 call was disconnected at the abandoned property, I was closest. Debra’s car was outside one of the buildin
gs, which is where I started to look. When I heard you,” he cleared his throat, “scream, I was able to pinpoint your exact location.”
“What happened after you shot Phil Tanner?” Saying his name made my bandaged foot itch. Would it always do that?
“He won’t hurt anyone ever again.”
“Enough of the cryptic. Does that mean he’s dead or going to jail? You know these powerful people can get away—”
Flores stood and shoved his hands in his pockets. “He’s dead. Two shots was all it took.”
Somehow, I felt if Flores still held my hand, I would feel his guilt. “That man would never have stopped. He couldn’t.”
With his head slightly cocked, Flores said, “But now we’ll never know why he did what he did.”
“I know exactly why. It was the only sense of joy he ever experienced, torturing others. And he didn’t trust his own feelings unless they were reflected through an empath.” I stared at the ceiling. “Though no one will ever believe that explanation.”
“I do.” Flores’s support meant more to me than he would ever know. “Who knows, I might need a consultation sometimes.”
“I would be honored.” I winked at him. “For a small fee.”
Flores laughed, the way someone should laugh, with true happiness, not sadistic glee. God, I prayed I’d be able to get Phil’s cackle out of my head.
My hospital door busted open. I jumped, then moaned at the pain along the length of my body. Flores blocked me as best he could with his own body and put his hand on his side arm.
Amelia argued with a nurse who was trying to keep her out. “We are her family, and no one is stopping us.”
Gina’s shiny, dark hair bounced in front of the confrontational nurse and practically pushed Flores aside. She put both hands on my cheeks, making my eye twitch. “Fauna, we were so worried. Your townhouse looked like a war zone, and you weren’t answering your phone.”
An imposing figure held the door open. Collins’s heavy voice assured the nurse. “It’s alright, Harriet. Police business.”
Amelia said, “Detective Collins stopped by while we were cleaning and told us where to find you.” She took Gina’s hands off my face, though I really didn’t mind her tender touch after all I’d been through.
Gina flung a tear from her eye. “We’ll get you out of here as soon as possible.” She bent down to whisper, “I can’t imagine how emotionally draining this place must be for you.”
I assured them. “I’m sure I’ll be out of here in no time.”
Amelia studied me for a moment. “You’re kind of blue.”
Gina shook her head and frowned. “Fauna simply hasn’t had time to put on her make up yet what with capturing a serial killer and all.”
I laughed, then grimaced at the pain in my chest. “Don’t make me laugh.”
Now Amelia’s face flushed red. Maybe I wouldn’t go into detail about what happened. Though, knowing the crime drama shows we all watched together, the ins and outs of what happened would have to be shared eventually. At least I didn’t have to lie to them anymore.
“You have quite an eclectic family, Ms. Young.” Tucker strode into the room in green scrubs and a shiny white coat. It took a second to realize he must work here. I patted my hair, wishing I’d had time to freshen up. “Let’s clear out for now while I talk to Ms. Young about her diagnosis and recovery.”
Collins ushered my friends to the hallway. “Let’s go, ladies. I still need to get your full statements anyway.”
Gina kissed me on the forehead. “We’ll be right outside.”
Amelia nodded her chin in my direction. “As soon as doc’s done, we’ll be right back in.”
The nurse, who had tried to keep them out, harrumphed as the crowd departed. While Tucker stared at Flores, the nurse stood beside my bed with her arms crossed.
With his chin down and eyes up, Flores planted his feet.
His authoritative presence didn’t seem to bother Tucker.
I raised an eyebrow at him. “Detective Flores is alright. You can talk freely in front of him.”
Tucker’s mountain sky blue eyes shown with such tenderness, I couldn’t think why I’d suspected him of being a killer for even a second. His fingers drummed on his clipboard. “I was on duty in the ER when they brought you in.”
One look between Flores and Tucker made my heart heavy and light at the same time. “I guess I have two heroes then.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
The cute, little, blue house with the semi-wraparound porch was hidden behind a humungous live oak tree. The cracked sidewalk offered a new obstacle for my crutches. Most of my wounds had heeled with minimal scaring. Though I’d never wear a tank top again without getting funny looks, and my career as an Olympic runner was over.
Gina walked close to me with her arms braced just in case I stumbled. “Are you sure we shouldn’t have brought the wheelchair? Your foot is so much better. I don’t want you to fall and reinjure it.”
On my other side, Amelia carried a large paper bag full of hard cider and craft beer. She was having just as much trouble as I was. “Leave her be, Gina. She’s not one of your second graders.”
After I told them about my empathic abilities, our relationship hadn’t changed. For that, I would be forever grateful.
Gina admired the old English garden’s smoothly painted picket fence. “This does not look like the kind of place barely-talks-at-all Flores would live.”
Amelia pushed the gate open and guided me through. I swear she’d carry me if she could. “Well, he doesn’t live alone does he.”
The red-painted front door opened at the top of the stairs, sending a wind of cold air into the heat of Houston fall.
Flores hopped down the stairs in khaki shorts and a Hawaiian shirt. His beefy chest filled out the loose button up while his short and tight hair screamed military.
Gina coughed into her elbow to hide a girlish giggle.
Amelia leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Does he have a straight brother?”
“You made it.” He held his arms out and cocked his head, asking for permission.
“You better give me a hug,” I said.
He embraced me firmly without aggravating a single tender spot. I soaked in the warmth of his affection.
“That better be Fauna Young you’re hugging and not our cute new neighbor.” A stunningly handsome, white man with spiked blond hair and pearly whites crossed his arms on the porch in mock jealousy.
Flores shook his head on my shoulder as he released me. His contentedness flowed through his cheek and gave me hope that happy couples did exist. Tucker and I had seen a lot of each other over the last few weeks, but it was in a more professional sense. I hadn’t had the energy, emotional or physical, to pursue anything else. For now, just being alive was enough.
I swung on my crutches to the bottom step. “You must be Austin. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Austin looked delighted that I knew his name. “So, he does talk about me at work.”
With a heavy sigh, Flores flung his arm around Austin’s shoulders. “I can’t help it. You call me every hour or so.”
Austin feigned hurt feelings as he brushed Flores off him. Instead, he guided me around the steps to a path on the side of the house. “We have so much to talk about.”
The backyard BBQ could have been taken out of a magazine. The crowd was diverse in a way that looked forced in a picture, but felt so natural for this part of Houston. Lanterns hung from the thick branches of old growth trees. A pool too small to be more than a soaking tub bubbled away in a corner. An all-weather TV hung on the back of the house playing a baseball game.
Flores set me down in a chair under a tree. “If you need some air conditioning, let me know and we’ll impress a few strong men to help you up the stairs.”
I laughed and was happily surprised when it didn’t hurt. There was a light at the end of the tunnel.
Gina dropped a cider in my hand. “You realize when
you’re all healed, it’s your turn to wait on me hand and foot.”
I gripped the cool drink in my gloved hand. “A task I will relish.”
Austin finished with the group he was talking to and joined us.
Amelia raised her eyebrows at the host. “You sure know how to work a party, Austin. I’m not sure how you put up with all business Flores.”
Flores lifted his chin. “He needs me to pick up the heavy things.”
“And a few other chores.” Austin swatted his husband. “Flores enjoyed working with you on this tough case. He told me you had some insight he didn’t have access to.”
I twirled the crutch on the ground wondering how much Flores had told Austin. “I have a few skills.”
Flores stopped the crutch with his foot, forcing me to look up at him. “She’s going to consult with HPD when we have a particularly tough case.”
His words rang true. What’s the point of having this gift if I didn’t use it to help others? Sure, it made me the target of a serial killer, but it also helped me stop a child molester and prevent an innocent kid from going to prison. I can’t imagine what the line item on the police bill would be, but I could see me working with Flores.
“Of course, if you need any computer work done, I’m your girl.”
A general cheer from the guests announced a home run by the Astros on the screen. I added my voice to the chorus.
This was my city. If I could help protect it, I would.
Acknowledgments
A book cannot exist without a plethora of contributors. I’ve been lucky enough to have a team that helps bring the magic to life. I must thank Ashley Hartsell for her incredible insight as my editor. Without her, the book would be choppy at best. My beta readers bravely dived in to give me their valuable feedback. Thank you to Jessica Raney, Chisto Healy, and Jill Valuet for your generous and critical observations. Kailey Urbaniak did an excellent job catching my inconsistencies and odd sentence structures. Thank you for copy editing and allowing the work to shine. I have to give a very special thank you to Stefanie Saw for the gorgeous cover. She exceeded anything I could have imagined. Finally, I have to thank my husband, Kevin. None of this would exist without his never ending support of my passions and Cursed Dragon Ship Publishing.
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