The Awakening s-1

by L. L. Foster

  Busy mulling over the entangled complexities of a dead body missing from the cancer ward, Gaby barely listened. It would be damn hard to smuggle out a corpse. Surely, there had to be endless paperwork and…

  What if Ms. Davies wasn't dead at all? What if she'd only gone into a coma? Had the doctor forged results, maybe even with specialized drugs? Would Ms. Davies become the next ghoulish demon, covered in those awful tumors?

  Or had she died, and the doctor only hoped to use the cells from her cancer-eaten body?

  Gaby's thoughts churned in a hundred different ways. Without realizing it, she withdrew her knife; the weight of it in her hand helped her think and steadied her resolve.

  Perhaps the doctor knew that people were on to him, and he felt cornered. Gaby didn't have a single doubt that Bliss's request for her to go to the isolation hospital played into these new developments.

  Now all she had to do was figure out why.

  Did the doctor hope to set her up as the culprit?

  Did he hope to use her to make Luther back off—as if she had that type of influence on him? Ha!

  Or did he only hope to force Gaby off his trail so he could more easily deal with Luther… which would mean it was Luther who was ultimately in danger?

  "Put that knife away. If I hit the brakes for any reason, you're liable to stab yourself."

  "Or you?" Gaby looked at his strong, proud profile, and made up her mind.

  Fuck waiting until tomorrow, or until God sent her.

  She'd go to the hospital tonight. She'd catch the foul doctor and circumvent his plans and somehow, some way, she'd keep Detective Luther Cross safe.

  With that decision, a small, piercing pain penetrated her soul. Ah. It hurt horribly—and felt good.

  God was with her on this after all.

  Biting back any signs of discomfort, she whispered to Luther, "Don't worry, I've yet to have an accident with my knife." But she did reach back and slide it into the sheath—out of sight, but close to hand.

  "Gaby?" Luther cupped a hand around the back of her neck. "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing." Everything. The pain didn't expand, but it niggled on her unease, a hard reminder that her time was never truly her own. At any moment, in any situation, when she might least expect or most want it, she could be called upon to destroy.

  That fact made any conventional relationship inconceivable. Caring about Luther meant protecting him from the evil of the earth. Nothing more.

  "You look… upset."

  Gaby eased a hand over her midsection, where the burning reminder of her purpose throbbed. She shook her head. "I'm fine."

  Luther snorted. "You know, Gaby, it makes me very uneasy when you take your thoughts private."

  It made her uneasy that he seemed to know her so well and felt free to touch her with so much familiarity. "I was thinking."

  "That's what worries me."

  "Worrying is for old women," she snapped. She turned her head toward him. "What are you going to do now?"

  He gave her a quick glance. "That's what you were stewing on for so long? Not what you'd do, but what I'll do?"

  Gaby stared right at him, giving him no reason to surmise duplicity on her part. "Why should I do anything? You're the cop, aren't you?"

  His eyes narrowed, and he released her. "Funny that you'd only remember it now."

  Knowing Luther's plans was crucial. If he had any clue about the isolation hospital in the woods, she'd be hard pressed to keep him away. But given what she planned to do, what she had to do, running into Luther would be catastrophic. If he witnessed her in action, if he saw how easily she took life, he'd lock her away.

  And without her to help balance things, evil would have sovereignty.

  She couldn't risk that.

  "Make no mistake, Luther." The steady clutch of discomfort roughened her voice. "If I see corruption in progress, I will take care of it."

  "Here we go."

  Gaby spoke over his long groan. "But I'm not going to play sleuth and do all your work for you. Earn your pay, damn it. Find that missing corpse."

  "I plan to."

  "Good. And once you do, you'll also figure out how Dr. Marton managed all this."

  Neither or them denied that Dr. Marton had to be involved. There'd be no point now.

  "I'll talk to him."

  "Fine. But until then," Gaby stressed, "I don't think there's much I can do." She raised a brow. "Now is there?"

  Chapter Seventeen

  Luther didn't buy a single second of Gaby's act. She was good, but he'd already figured out that when Gaby seemed most sincere, she had ulterior motives. This time her motive was to dupe him into thinking she intended to stay uninvolved.

  He wasn't that stupid.

  Especially not after seeing how she held that knife—with intent to use it.

  Familiar, tender, with love and barely restrained eagerness.

  She had plans to use her knife, and soon. He had no doubt.

  Gaby was a woman who had to act. By whatever strange force possessed her—and he had a feeling it possessed her right now—she had skill and amazing ability, and not using those attributes would be as contrary to her as not breathing would be to him.

  She remained silent, maybe even… stoic, on the remainder of the drive. He didn't like it. She had a pinched look about her that she tried hard to disguise, but he knew her too well.

  How he knew her so well, Luther couldn't say, but almost from the onset he'd been keenly attuned to her. Right now she was separate from him, drawn into herself by some odd suffering that he couldn't comprehend.

  Even after he parked and got out, she didn't budge a single eyelash. At least, Luther noted with a smile, she'd conceded to his courteous tendencies.

  But then, given how she started when he opened the door, he decided she'd only been too involved in her own ruminations to give him a second thought.

  Gabrielle Cody had the uncanny ability to put him entirely out of her mind.

  If only he could do the same with her.

  Eyes vague with an indefinable emotion, she got out of the car and started past him.

  Realizing that she didn't even plan to say good night, Luther stood there in amazement.

  At the last second, Gaby caught herself and, with her back to him, paused. She looked over her shoulder and, really seeing him again, gave him a thorough once-over. She came back.

  Solemn and sincere, she stared at him. "The movie was great."

  A distinct lack of enthusiasm belied the sentiment. "I'm glad you enjoyed it, Gaby."

  Her gaze went to his mouth. "Thanks for the digital audio player, too, and the food, and… everything." She licked her lips, and in that instant, a veil of pain lifted from her expression.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and planted a wet one right on his mouth. What she lacked in finesse, she definitely made up for with enthusiasm.

  Luther's hands automatically went to her waist. Drawn in by her, he turned his head a bit for a better fit and dragged her closer.

  Standing in front of her apartment, he was very aware of the people milling around them on the sidewalk and the likelihood of Mort stepping out at any minute.

  At least, for about two seconds he was that aware.

  When Gaby licked over his lips, he opened for her—and lost all sense of time and place.

  Luckily, she had more willpower.

  Pushing back, she stared at him. "What do you plan to do now?"

  Luther's thoughts tried to pull together without success. "About?"

  Her eyelids twitched; her pain had returned. "The body." Typical of Gaby when she wanted to hide something, she jutted out her hip in attitude and quirked her mouth. "The corpse."

  Seeing her like this, so determined to bear her woes alone, made a missing corpse almost inconsequential to Luther. Concern brought his brows together. "I'll take care of it."

  "How? Where will you start? Are you going back to the hospital tonight?"

  A
n ugly suspicion tamped down on his lust. Hands still on her waist, Luther back-stepped her against his car and leaned in to impose his will. "Did you kiss me just to get information from me?"

  Her droll look of annoyance almost amused him. "So now you're accusing me of being a femme fatale? What are you, an idiot?" A very line trembling coursed through her body. "Do you even realize how stupid that sounds'?"

  To halt the rapid-fire insults, Luther smashed two fingers over her mouth. "All right. Then why did you kiss me?"

  She slapped his hand away. "Because I like kissing you. If you didn't want me to, you should have spoken up and said so."

  Luther wasn't sure, but she sounded convincing enough. "I like kissing you, too. But you have a lot to learn about the etiquette of kissing."

  The insult infuriated her beyond measure. "Fine. I'll try to get some lessons in before I bother kissing you again."

  Luther knew she said it to hit a nerve.

  He knew she baited him.

  And still, his temper struck a high point. "We already had this discussion, Gaby." Struggling to keep his voice low and moderate, Luther stepped back from her. "Anything you want to learn, you'll learn from me."

  She shoved her face in close to his. "I'll practice anywhere, with anyone I choose."

  The thought of her with another man rattled him so fiercely that he might have lost it there and then. But as Gaby spoke, she went through that peculiar transformation again.

  The skin around her eyes tightened; the hue of her irises grew brighter, her pupils bigger. Beneath the pale skin of her throat, frantic energy palpated.

  Her scent was stronger, more captivating.

  Though the actual physicality of her body didn't change, her strength was more defined to the naked eye.

  In the usual course of things, Gaby looked like a ragtag, bedraggled beanpole of a girl.

  At this moment, Luther saw an Amazon able to take on the world.

  To gentle her, calm her, he brushed the backs of his fingers along that wild pulse beat in her throat. "You're very soft, Gaby."

  The razor-sharp essence thawed. Her eyes focused; her lips compressed. "You're such an ass."

  Glad to have her back, Luther smiled. "Yeah, I know."

  "You need to find that missing body."

  "Yeah." Running a hand through his hair, Luther decided it was past time to get back on track. He glanced at his watch. "Ann is meeting me at the hospital in a few minutes."

  Gaby's expression went flat. "Well, whoopee for you. I'm sure you two will have a grand old time."

  It felt odd to fix an emotion like jealousy to a woman like Gaby.

  Odd, and exhilarating.

  "We'll be working, Gaby. I already told you, there's nothing personal between us."

  "Like I care."

  "You care." Where Gaby was concerned, Luther felt certain of very little, but that much he knew. He kissed her again before she could dispute his claim. "I can do my job more efficiently if I know you'll stay out of trouble tonight."

  She stared him in the eyes and said, "I always stay out of trouble."

  That steadfast gaze gave him pause. If she had hoped to convince him, she accomplished just the opposite.

  "Now." Gaby shoved him back. "Stop dawdling and go do whatever it is cops do to solve heinous crimes before more heinous crimes happen."

  Turning to lean on the car, Luther crossed his arms and watched her retreat. He saw the discomfort in her usual graceful gait, the rigid way she held her shoulders. "Want me to come by later and tell you what I find?"

  "Tell me in the morning," She kept on walking, over the sidewalk, up from the front steps, and to the door. She dug out a key. "It's late, and I'm tired."

  Now he knew she lied. Gaby wouldn't admit to a weakness of any kind, not even exhaustion. "I'll be keeping an eye on you. Gaby."

  "From the hospital?" She stepped inside and turned toward him to say, "Good luck with that."

  The door shut with finality, and Luther took only two seconds to make up his mind. Finding a corpse and solving a crime was important. He wouldn't neglect his obligations and duty. But she was right—he couldn't very well watch her from so far away.

  And she definitely needed supervision. She needed protection.

  Whether she wanted to admit it or not.

  Retrieving his cell phone, Luther put in a call to Ann.

  She answered on the first ring. "Detective Kennedy."

  Luther circled the hood of his car and got in. "It's Luther. Where are you?"

  "At the hospital. Why?"

  "Something's come up—"

  "You're telling me." Ann's voice rose with agitation. "I tracked down the paperwork on our missing remains. Are you sitting down?"

  "Do I need to be?"

  "Oh yeah. Brace yourself, because I just know you're going to love what I've found."

  Dread filled Luther. "Let's hear it."

  "The signature authorizing a cremation was forged. Seems that's not what our Ms. Davies wanted at all."

  The dread turned to anger and disbelief. "Shit."

  "Yeah. A nurse broke down and told me some things she'd seen and heard, so I checked. This is definitely not the same signature. I already sent two uniforms over to the crematorium to talk to the staff. In another day or two, they could have claimed she was already cremated, and who would know different? Ashes are ashes, right?"

  "It'd be an easy cover-up—with someone working at the crematorium."

  "Exactly. Someone there had to be in on this."

  "That'd make sense. The doc forges the name, someone else pretends to get the body…" Sickened by such perverse deception and corruption, Luther rubbed his forehead. "So the big question now is: where's the body?"

  "I don't know that yet, but I did talk to Dr. Marton." Ann gave a heavy pause. "Luther, he's not the one who forged the signature."

  Not Dr. Marton? So Gaby was wrong about that. "You sure?"

  "Positive. Not only did I rule out Marton, but I'm putting my bets on someone else entirely."

  Something in Ann's tone clicked. Luther straightened in his seat. "Wait a minute. Are you saying…" His brain almost cramped with the possibility. "Dr. Chiles did this?"

  Disgusted, Ann said, "That's right, big boy. The sweet, little, soft spoken female doctor is as sick as they come."

  "Holy shit." But… it made sense, in a twisted, shot-to-hell way. No one suspected her. She was so far from obvious that she'd get by with murder—literally—and no one would look at her twice. "Goddamn it!"

  "Yup." Satisfied with his reaction, Ann said, "Now all we have to do is find her."

  "She's not at the hospital?"

  "And not at her home address. The good doctor is AWOL."

  Luther looked at the front door of Gaby's apartment building. He recalled the altered state of her appearance, the rigidity of her posture.

  He put the car in gear. "I know how to find her."

  "You do?"

  "Yeah. I'll get back with you." Going on a hunch, he disconnected the call and pulled away from the curb. If Gaby knew he waited on her, she wouldn't budge from the apartment. He'd show a little patience, share a little belief.

  And Gaby would lead him to the doctor.

  Breath hitching painfully, Gaby barely got in the door before Mort was there.

  Oblivious to her state, he smiled and asked, "How was your date?"

  Striding past Mort, all but blinded by her purpose, she headed toward the basement steps. "It wasn't a date."

  "It wasn't?"

  Unlike anything she'd ever experienced before, a terrible premonition hung over Gaby. She felt the summons, clean and pure, and ripe with pain.

  Yet a sense of doom veiled her. Writing it off as the interference of too many other people, Gaby shook her head.

  She knew better than to get involved. "Leave me alone, Mort."

  Of course, he followed her.

  Damn it, she did not have the time or patience to chat with him tonight. "
Okay, fine, it was a date."

  Halfway down the stairs, she realized Mort was right behind her, and she turned.

  Mort almost fell into her.

  Hands fisting and brows pinched, Gaby glared at him. "Go back, Mort."

  His easy camaraderie faded to nervous energy. "Back… where?"

  "Upstairs. Away from me. Out of my way."

  "But… Why?" He looked her over with grave trepidation. "What are you doing, Gaby? What's happened?"

  "For crying out loud." Gaby rubbed her tired eyes and tried to decide how to send him packing. She'd been stupid to let him get so close, to let him think he could question her and tag along at will. The inner turmoil built, reminding her that she had a job to do. "Look, I'm going out and no, you don't need to know where. It doesn't concern you."

  Sparse brows rose high, showing bloodshot blue eyes half concealed under his shaggy brown hair. "Which means you think it's too dangerous for me?"

  "I don't think it, Mort. I know it."

  "Oh." Visibly tamping down on his fear, he straightened his scrawny frame. The amateur tattoo on his shoulder looked even more absurd with his attempt at bravery. "I'm going with you anyway. You might need backup."

  "No, I won't." She flattened a hand on his bony chest and gave him a decisive shove.

  He stumbled, almost fell on the steps, but caught himself. "Gaby?"

  Belief in her purpose cauterized any regret she felt for attacking him. "I managed to live twenty-one years without your help, Mort. I think I'll be fine one more night."

  "God only knows how you've managed."

  "Yeah," Gaby agreed, "He does."

  "Oh." Mort gave a sickly frown—and turned to pleading. "Let me go with you, Gaby. Please? Even with divine intervention, you're not invincible."

  Fool. Gaby looked heavenward. "Forgive his ignorance. He doesn't realize Your influence."

  Giving credence to that claim, the internalized smoldering of power heightened, making her faster, more agile, and Gaby leaped down the remainder of the stairs with ease.

  "You're staying here, Mort, and that's that. Don't argue with me, and don't even think about trying to follow me." She gave him one quick glance. "I guarantee you'll regret it."

  "Wait." The rapid thumping of Mort's descent on the stairs echoed behind her. He dogged her heels as she went to the laundry room to judge the distance to the small casement window that someone had recently used to sneak in. She'd fit, but just barely.