by Regan Black
The women stood nearly eye-to-eye after Petra had her shoes on. "Every woman should know the basics of protection."
Petra smiled. "Dad always told me to go for the balls."
"Every boy over three knows to protect his assets," Jaden said with a crooked grin. "If you want to give yourself a chance, you have two options: Give in or lash out.
"You have to assess the situation fast and make your decision. When you need to fight, first distract, then hit your hard point to their soft tissue. Then run like hell."
Petra tried to commit that little trio to memory as Jaden explained with slow movements. Side of hand hard, throat soft. Fingers hard, eyes soft. Elbows hard, gut soft. Gut...
"Any advice against knives?" she asked just before Jaden reached the door.
Jaden turned, pretending her hand was a knife in Petra's face. "Face to face and close like this," she raised Petra's hand, making her the attacker, "break the wrist." In slow motion Jaden brought a hand to either side of Petra's 'knife hand' and struck gently to demonstrate how an attacker's threat would be broken and the knife knocked away.
"Then run like hell?" Petra asked, needing to lighten the mood.
"And pray he doesn't have a gun." Jaden opened the door wide to reveal an intense conversation between Brian and Gideon.
At the sight of them, the men stopped and pasted innocent smiles on their faces. Well, Brian did. Gideon didn't quite manage more than a softer version of his normal glower.
Jaden fell into step with Brian's arm around her and Gideon and Petra followed with plenty of personal space between them.
"I'll take you to the hotel to get your stuff," Gideon said. "Then we'll meet up with Jaden and Brian."
Petra considered stating her own opinion, but decided the hospital wasn't the place for the loud argument sure to follow. She comforted herself with the knowledge that any place with Jaden would make Gideon's presence more bearable.
Why she was so anti-Gideon she couldn't say. The man just rubbed her wrong. She wanted to be sympathetic, to make allowances for the rough hand life must've dealt him. Yet, she couldn't force out a mere thank-you for the kindness he showed with new clothes. It was so unlike her and though the edginess troubled her, she wasn't ready to discuss it.
Again at the hotel, Petra pressed her thumb to the scanner on the suite door and stepped inside, grateful to be alone at last. Gideon's intentions, whatever they were, were becoming oppressive.
"Oh, thank God!" The precious silence broke on Kelly's exclamation and Petra stood her ground as her assistant rushed to greet her. "Can I give you a hug?" she asked, skidding to a stop.
Petra nodded. The arms came around her gingerly and she savored both the caution and sweet cherry scent of Kelly's dark hair. For the first time in their brief relationship she didn't feel anything. No stray memories, not even the worry that was clear in both her eyes and her touch.
It should've concerned her, but after all that happened since she'd arrived in Chicago, Petra brushed it aside as the least of her worries.
"I'm really okay," she assured Kelly.
"I really don't believe you." Kelly murmured concern as she urged Petra over to the couch.
It felt good to be pampered, even though she knew she was well past needing it. "Thanks, Kelly. How long have you been here?"
"Two days."
"The hotel just let you in here?"
"Umm. Not really, but I managed."
Petra smiled. That sounded like a story she'd enjoy when she wasn't so eager for solitude. "You could've just called."
"Not with this. Your mom's medical history is complex. I'm not sure you'd even be here without the fertility specialist they used. There's no way she had other children before you and Nate. I hate to scold you when you're down, but it would've helped if you told me you guys were twins."
Petra blinked at Kelly's nonsense. Twins? Not possible. "There's a glitch in your research, Kel. We were born two years apart."
"No glitch. I've got everything with me. We'll go over it later and you can see for yourself."
"How'd you get here?"
Kelly looked away and started babbling. "Why don't you rest awhile? You're really pale. Kincaid told me you tackled something big."
"You brought the Mustang?"
Kelly jumped up and began to pace. The excess energy sparkled around her. To Petra's pleasant surprise and Kelly's credit, the assistant didn't make excuses.
"Okay. Yes. I brought the Mustang. When I couldn't reach you by cell and my messages to the hotel weren't returned, I took the most direct option available."
"Fair enough."
"I stayed within speed laws and I only–what did you say?"
"I said fair enough."
Kelly gaped at her.
"It's okay. You did what you felt you had to do. It shows initiative and loyalty. Stop worrying."
"Oh, God. You're not well."
"No. I'm perfect. I just need a little down time. Besides, we'll need our own transportation. I'm sick of being escorted around and depending on others. I've got things to do, questions to answer, and I'm tired of adjusting to someone else's timeline."
Kelly's mouth hung open and her dark eyes rounded. "Who are you?"
Petra laughed, enjoying the fullness and light glory of it. "I'm me."
"On juice?"
She laughed again at Kelly's quip. "An empath on juice? Can you imagine?"
"I wouldn't want to," Kelly said, eyes narrowed. "Are you juicing? Or dipping into anything else?"
"Of course not. I'm as clean as I've always been."
Kelly chewed on her lip. "That may not be as clean as you thought."
Petra watched her. The woman was serious. "Does this have anything to do with your bizarre twin theory?"
"Sure you want to tackle this now?"
"Contrary to popular belief, I'm not some pitiful weakling." She'd found a sister from another life, why not a twin in this one? "Whatever it is, bring it on."
Petra could tell by the look on her face, Kelly was thinking what everyone thought: she'd been possessed by some evil spirit. Bells aside, she wasn't hearing voices and her critical thinking skills were in fine form. She wasn't channeling a monster, at least not at the moment. She was just done playing around with her life. She wanted to catch the guy gutting scientists and murdering cops–before he could hurt anyone else. If her new, enhanced abilities got the job done, who was she to complain?
She offered comfort anyway. "Really. I'm fine. Show me what you've found and let's try to make sense of it."
Kelly didn't look entirely convinced, but she pulled out her palmtop and a boost drive. "Did you know your parents had fertility issues?"
"Why would they share that with me? You've met my mother. She's not one to advertise any failings."
"She's not one to fail."
Petra started at Kelly's sharp tone. "You've been looking into Nathan's case."
"You haven't?"
Petra got to her feet and paced, pushing her fingers into her hair and pulling none too gently. It shouldn't be so difficult to find the pressure point that would grant some relief. Yet her temples, neck, and shoulders continued to thrum with tension. Maybe this tension just couldn't be relieved.
"I couldn't even get out of this room. Then all hell broke loose."
"Inside or outside your head?"
Petra wouldn't have bothered to dignify the question with anyone but Kelly. "Both," she finally replied.
"I'm sorry, Pet."
Petra just shook her head. "It's been weird since I hit Chicago. Off balance. I feel like I'm walking on an eroding beach. The ground's shifting and falling away right under my feet."
"Anything from Nathan?"
"That's just it. I'm getting a sense of him, but it doesn't add up. What he sends me directly conflicts with my gut instinct."
"Your mother's on a tear about his crime."
"Dad's trying to make her see reason. For all the good that'll do. She stopped by a
nd forbade me to attempt any contact with Nate."
"They're in town, too?"
Petra rubbed at her brows, trying to soothe the dull ache. "They've bought a new condo on North Lakeshore."
"Sit down and let me help," Kelly ordered. She made quick work of the headache with a pressure point in Petra's hand, then several points on her face.
"Thanks," Petra said, able to think more clearly without the pain. Then she realized Kelly's touch still wasn't transferring anything. "What are you doing to keep me out?"
"Nothing I know of." Kelly bit her lip. "You've always kept up the barrier before."
Petra wondered about that, sensing there was much more to it. Kelly's aura was visibly in conflict, but that could be assigned to a variety of issues.
"How did you conclude I was a twin?"
Kelly swiveled the palmtop to show Petra a spreadsheet. "I hacked until I found the research and resolutions for your parent's infertility. Your Dad's physical traits were fine, but your Mom had issues with uterine position and ovulation irregularity.
"The bigger problem, Pet, is that neither should've kept them from conceiving if they were determined. Your mother's chart shows she miscarried and suffered severe depression after the third time. So they could conceive, but the miscarriage documentation bothered me. The notes in her chart don't make sense."
"Assuming anyone could wade through the medical terminology, what bothered you?"
"My mother's sister had a bunch of female problems. My family helped her through the emotional struggles, and I learned all the gory details around the kitchen table. Didn't you have women who talked about anything and everything when you were growing up?"
Petra arched a brow in a precise imitation of her mother and Kelly gave a soft, 'oh yeah' before she continued.
"What concerns me most is the practice your mother went to has been dissolved and the specific doctors who worked with her are unidentifiable."
Now Petra understood. Her concern ramped up to match Kelly's. "That's illegal."
"Except in the cases of alternative medicine."
"That's stupid!" Petra came to her feet once more. "In cases of alternate medical solutions, the doctors should be monitored even more closely."
"I agree. The health department didn't. This was before medical reform, remember?"
Petra felt the prickly trail of evil dance up her spine. Then the ever more frequent sound of bells. "Pack it up. We need to take this meeting elsewhere."
"Pet, it's late and you look tired. We can start the leg work in the morning."
Petra refused to stay with the dark feeling closing in around her. Every fiber of her being told her to run. Now.
"I'm leaving and taking the Mustang. If you stay you'll be hurt, possibly killed. I don't want that, but I won't stick around for a debate." Petra gathered her briefcase and a change of clothes, wishing she hadn't unpacked so thoroughly when she'd arrived.
Kelly was right behind her, thank God. Whatever was out here was hunting–and eager to make the kill. Part of her wanted to stay and meet the man who'd been sharing his gory joy with her, but she knew she wasn't yet equipped to survive it.
She swore. Gideon was right. She needed more defensive skills. More than the tidbits Jaden already shared. For now, her brain would have to do. She had no desire to watch the next evisceration as his victim and she wouldn't let Kelly suffer that bleak end.
She paused in the hallway, halfway between the stairs and the elevator.
"The car's on sublevel three," Kelly said.
May as well be purgatory for the images that information brought to mind. "Don't talk," she ordered. Petra wrapped a mental cloak around Kelly and herself, then rushed them away from the stairwell, past the guest elevator to the one reserved for staff.
She pushed Kelly inside with the luggage. "Meet me around back." Then she ran back to draw the killer out.
Petra's head spun from the odd angle. He was in her head, and she saw herself from his eyes. The conflicting views almost overwhelmed her. Only the memory of his demonic glee when he took a life kept her from caving to the sensation.
He was hiding in the room across from hers. Her breath stalled in her throat. He'd gotten so close. Too close. Now she needed him just a little closer. It took every ounce of control to follow the mental connection back to the monster and put what she wanted into his head.
She forced the natural recoil aside and found one of his early murders, putting herself into the scene as his partner. Together, they were in a tiny food prep area, watching the cook. The flash of the blade made him smile. She smiled, too. The slip of knife into flesh, though accidental, made his pulse skip and hers race.
They moved toward the cook, who thought they came to offer first aid. Instead she subdued the bigger man with a hypo punch of paralytic agent Paracuron while the killer experimented with various cuts and the subsequent effects on the body.
Petra kept him in this memory, kept herself projected there with him as she slipped away. Using her hands to anchor and guide her, she followed the rail down the stairs and into the alley where she could hear the purr of the Mustang. Blindly she stumbled for the car and squeezing her eyes shut to prevent sending the killer any knowledge, she yanked herself out of the memory and told Kelly to gun it.
At the very edges of her awareness, before the connection severed completely, she thought she heard someone say 'bravo'.
Chapter Eight
An odd request came into the office today. A woman just discovered her mother's secret heartache of putting her baby brother up for adoption. Apparently the husband and father was abusive and this was the mother's only way to secure enough money to escape with the daughter and guarantee a better life for both children.
Now the mother's dying and wants to see her son and daughter reunited and to apologize to them both. After recording an interview at the hospital, I'll return to the office to skim the records and see what a flight can reveal. –From the case files of Petra Neiman
Gideon looked down at the mess of a body at his feet. "Who the hell did this guy piss off?" he asked Kincaid.
The head of the CRIA just shrugged and kept examining the evidence as the crew collected it. "The killer didn't leave us much to work with."
"No witnesses?" Gideon asked.
The cook was on his back, his empty eyes staring, face frozen in a painful contortion. Blood snaked from several lacerations, wound together, and disappeared into the kitchen floor drain.
"None. I'm not sure how he managed to do all this without alerting someone. The poor guy had to be alive through most of it."
Gideon eyed the strong hands and forearms of the victim. "This guy wasn't a pushover. Am I missing the defensive wounds?"
"No," Kincaid confirmed.
"Then how–"
"Go wake up Petra. We'll need her to read something on this."
"Sure." Gideon didn't bother to voice his opinion. Kincaid believed she could help and he'd be hard pressed to argue after seeing her recent stunts. Whatever she had, he had to admit it proved useful.
He took the stairs, needing the workout. At her suite, he knocked, waited, and knocked again. When she still didn't answer, he pulled out his cell card and rang the phone in her room.
Nothing.
Gideon applied his thumb to the door lock, hoping the hotel hadn't upgraded their master codes since he'd added his print to the access list. The electronic lock whirred for a moment, then the light tripped green and he pushed the door open.
With his stunner in hand, he reminded himself to start strapping on his real gun at the next earliest opportunity. He swept the suite, surprised to find it empty. More surprised to find it a mess.
He surveyed the room again, then buzzed Kincaid on his way back downstairs. "She's gone."
"Where?"
"Don't know. Just vacated the premises. In a hurry too, if the mess is any indicator."
"Mess? Petra doesn't leave messes."
Kincaid's personal k
nowledge bothered Gideon, but he shoved the useless feeling aside. He came through the double doors marked for employees, disconnecting the cell card and tucking it into his pocket along with the earpiece. "The suite's not trashed, but it's not pretty. She left clothes and some girl stuff behind."
Kincaid frowned at Gideon, then at the body between them as if the dead man would explain Petra's disappearance.
"You agent Kincaid?" a gruff cop asked, storming onto the crime scene.
Gideon jerked a thumb at Kincaid in answer.
"That's me," Kincaid clarified.
"Officer Loomis," he introduced himself and flashed his badge. "Chief Thomas asked me to deliver this to you."
Kincaid accepted the holodisc and turned it over in his hands several times. "It bears on this investigation?"
Loomis shrugged and left the way he'd come.
Gideon waved his hands in surrender when Kincaid shot him an accusing glance. "Who could I blab to? I've been here and Petra's not around." The man's face pinched with that reminder. Kincaid clearly valued his empath. "Open it up."
Kincaid set it on the nearest steel prep table and triggered the holographic report. Three-dimensional images of a scene too much like this one played out in sequence to the monotone narration of the evidence investigator on the scene.
Gideon absorbed the details, especially the two elements that differed. When the report ended he looked at Kincaid.
"No paralyzing hypopunch here," they said in unison.
"No evidence of a partner there," Gideon added.
"Petra would know if it's the same killer." Kincaid pulled out his cell card, scrolling to a particular number.
Gideon stood by, trying to fit the pieces together. A serial killer with a signature as distinct as ritual evisceration shouldn't be too hard to find even without an empath. He heard Kincaid leave a message, make another call, then swear in a streak so blue the cops around them were blushing.
Gideon shoved his hands into his pockets and waited.
"I can't find Petra or her assistant, Kelly. They must be together."
"Isn't that a good thing?"