River’s breath jammed in his throat. The bastard wants back inside. If he finds a way, will we ever get him out again?
Kent’s wraithlike tentacles caressed Dauscher’s body, searching for entry, but each attempt ended in failure. The crimson orbs glared, and, in a blink, Kent stood at the edge of the ring again.
“Can’t get back in?” River sneered. “Sorry to hear that.”
Minute, amber sparks flared inside the dark chest. Ghostly legs dissolved into warped tubes of greasy smoke, twining into a single column.
River tilted his head. “Getting tired, partner?”
The rest of his body dissipated into its previous tubular form, and only a face with crimson eyes persisted. Another deep growl reverberated from the center of what remained of Kent Rowton.
“There’s nothing left for you here.” He swallowed, summoned his last vestiges of courage as he dealt with something so beyond his realm of knowledge. With the impending rain, their refuge wouldn’t last much longer. “Why don’t you go to Hell where you belong?”
The flashes of light within Kent’s form intensified. The face warped, stretching in myriad directions, then smoothed to nothing while bright yellow points of light danced amid the black smoke. Is he burning up from the inside out?
But Kent had always been one tenacious son of a bitch. Whatever transpired inside him, it didn’t seem to deter his efforts for survival. He circled them.
He’s waiting for the rain to do its job. River pushed Vicki behind him. From the moment he’d figured out Kent had possessed Dauscher, he’d known it might come to this. And given the option, he would sacrifice himself to save her.
Lightning flashed, and Vicki screamed.
He risked a glance down. Shit.
The rain had dissolved the salt, leaving them defenseless to a being worse than death itself. River stumbled backward, using himself as a shield.
Kent dove at him but stopped short, seeming to savor the moment while the multitude of firefly lights continued their frenetic dance.
River could’ve sworn the bastard smiled. He stared into the crimson pools serving as eyes, while spikes of fear hammered down his spine. “Go ahead, then. Take me. But you leave her alone.”
Kent darted at River’s chest. A sledgehammer smashing into his sternum would have hurt less. He yelled.
Vicki pressed herself to him. “Go to hell, you bastard,” she screamed at Kent. “You can’t have him.”
God, I love a feisty woman.
Kent pounded him again, an entire semi-truck of pain. He fell back. The world spun, darkened.
Vicki shrieked her own catlike yowl of anger in her effort to stabilize him, but he crumpled to his knees, his strength waning. She wrapped herself around him, her loving embrace the only armor keeping him from certain death.
“He won’t let you in, and neither will I,” she yelled, her words ringing above the wind and rain.
Through blurry eyes, he realized the fireflies inside Kent’s smoky form had flourished into amber orbs while his overall columnar length had diminished by half.
The Valentine Killer is dying. At last. Giddiness danced through him, erupting in a satisfied chuckle. “It’s over.”
What remained of Kent’s smoky form trembled, whether in anger or fear River didn’t know. Or care. It circled them twice, a blur of black and amber streaks, and shot out over the marsh, an inhuman wail slicing the night. Grass and reeds bent back in its wake, marking the trail. Several birds stirred from their roosts and took flight. Frightened terns, gulls, and a giant crane lifted into the turbulent air. Their wings battered in the wind and rain, a flurry of motion.
“Oh, no.” Vicki pointed. “Look.”
Kent’s evil essence arced over the undulating sea and aimed back at the cove. Had he decided to try one last time to take one of them as a forced host?
River leaned against Vicki, attempting to block her from the onslaught. But before the streaking, smoky mass reached the shore, it corkscrewed up into the rain-filled sky, colliding with the giant crane lumbering through the storm. The impact sent the bird careening though the air to tumble into the sea.
What the hell? River squinted, scanned the horizon for any sign of Kent.
“Is he…gone?” Vicki’s arms stayed wrapped around him, holding him close.
A cascade of lightning seared the sky, and the ghostly form of the crane rose from the water. Flapping its massive wings, it flew away from the cove and into the storm.
“Was that…?” Vicki’s fingers dug into his wet jacket. “Did Kent…?”
“I don’t know,” River said. Is it possible for a human soul to inhabit a wild animal? They’d have to ask Lenny. When no further sign of Kent appeared, his attention shifted to Dauscher. Is it too late? He glanced at his watch. Two minutes, forty seconds since he’d killed his partner.
River pushed away from Vicki, her arms reluctant to release him. He scrambled to the big guy’s side, the effort sending the world spinning with pain. He placed his hands, one atop the other, on the man’s chest and commenced CPR.
“Not.” He shoved downward. “Too.” He pistoned his hands again. “Late.”
Vicki leaned forward, shielding Dauscher’s face from the rain, and when River moved to breathe air into his partner’s lungs, she did it for him—which helped him immensely in the pain department. Time clicked off the seconds, and he imagined the synchronistic ratcheting of the gears in his watch.
She looked at him. Tears brimmed and slid over her cheeks amid the streaks of wetness raindrops had left behind. The corners of her mouth pulled down. “River….”
“No.” It couldn’t be. He refused to believe it. He pushed down on Dauscher’s chest and struggled to ignore the pain radiating through every inch of his body. “I can’t quit. He’d never quit on me.”
“River.” She reached over, laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
He jerked away. Anger and fear and sorrow battled inside him. Dauscher was a good cop. A good man. His partner. And partners didn’t give up on one another.
Rearing up, he lifted his hands over his head and slammed them onto Dauscher’s chest. The body jolted with the impact, his lifeless arms flopping on the wet sand.
Vicki touched two fingers to his neck. Shook her head.
Damn it!
River stared at his partner, his friend. Anger boiled inside him at the injustice. He raised his hands, pounded the man again.
Nothing.
Exhausted, defeat eating at his heart, River slumped forward, his forehead and hands resting on his partner’s cold, wet body. Kent had stolen yet one more life. He’d invaded Dauscher, used him as a puppet, and then discarded him. Where was destiny in that? As far as he knew, Vicki had never had a vision about the man.
River’s fingers tingled against Dauscher’s wet clothing. He bolted upright, but when he did, Vicki’s hand fell away, their contact broken. The tingling diminished.
“No. Put your hand back. Touch me.”
She slid her palm up his arm to rest on his shoulder, and the tingling intensified. This is it. I never believed in the paranormal, but sure as shit, now is the time to start.
“Move closer,” he told her. “I think we can save him.”
Without hesitation, Vicki moved behind him, wrapping her arms around him as she had before. She laid her cheek against his back. “Like this?”
The tingling morphed into an electrical pulse radiating from his shoulders, down his arms, and into his hands. For once, he didn’t question. He accepted the almost painful energy surging through him and laid his hands on the big guy’s chest.
Dauscher jerked, his head lolling to the side.
Vicki reached over, checked the pulse. “No.”
“Damn it.” He slumped.
“I love you, River.” She wrapped her arms around him, squeezed. “Try again.”
He stared at his friend’s face. Three minutes had come and gone. The storm pounded the sandy clearing. The
trees whipped in the wind.
And Vicki believes I can do this. He straightened. “Hold on tight.”
Again, he raised his hands high, but, this time, he brought the image of Dauscher’s face into his mind and tried to believe. Lightning illuminated the sky, and he released his concrete world of facts and evidence, let go of everything he thought he knew. Thunder roared, the sound vibrating him to his core as he embraced the unknown, the infinite realms of possibilities.
With the woman he loved wrapped around him, River slammed his hands to Dauscher’s chest, willing life and energy into the dead body. Energy bulleted down his arms, through his fingertips. The sensation foreign and painful, fire searing his veins, he yelled out.
Dauscher jolted, his back arching from the sand, and his entire body shook. A golden shimmer radiated from River’s hands, enveloping the body from head to toe. When he was certain the light had covered his partner’s body completely, he released his hold.
Dauscher fell to the ground.
River sucked in gulps of air. Letting his chin fall to his chest, the cold rain a balm on his aching neck, he tried to stop the world from spinning. God, his head pounded like a son of a bitch.
Vicki moved to his side, clutched his hand in hers.
“River,” Dauscher croaked. Deep, erratic coughs rang—music above the wailing storm. His partner’s face scrunched up, transforming once more into the bulldog he’d come to appreciate. “What the hell happened?”
Chapter Forty-Four
River lay on a table near the X-ray department in St. Joseph’s Hospital. Turning his head, he looked to where Vicki sat in a chair next him. She held his hand, her fingers firmly entwined with his.
“Hey,” he said, pulling her attention from the doorway.
“Hey.” Her lips curved into a smile—an attempt to reassure him, but worry kept her brow furrowed. She peered at the door again. “I just don’t know what’s taking them so long.”
“X-rays, CAT scans. All that stuff takes time to review. The good news is the medication they gave me is really doing its job.” The gunshot wound in his side had dulled to a minor ache, and that alone was something to be thankful for. “Best I’ve felt in days.”
“Good.” She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, revealing an ugly purple bruise on her cheek.
“Did saving Dauscher cause that?” Unable to stop himself, he reached toward her but stopped short.
“No.” A rueful smile graced her lips. “When Kent stepped over the salt line and rushed us, you fell back. I was too close, and your elbow caught me.”
He winced. “God, Vicki. I am so sorry.”
“I’ll live. You’re the one I’m worried about.”
A tall brunette swept through the doorway, her white coat fluttering behind her. Two steps into the room, she paused, her head bowed as she studied the chart in her hands. After a moment, she looked up. “Well, Detective Chastain, I’m happy to say everything appears to be fine. Your wound should heal, but you’ll need to keep an eye on it for infection. We took a full complement of pictures, and even though there’s a huge contusion on your chest, the X-rays show your sternum is still intact. You’ve got one cracked rib, several others are bruised. Your sternum….” A thin, disapproving smile appeared on her lips. “Impacts of the sort you received can cause damage to the heart and lungs, sometimes even the esophagus which can lead to digestive problems. How did you say it happened?”
Though medicated, River had prepared for this question. “There was a struggle. In his attempt to get away, the perp head-butted me.”
She stared at him for a long moment, a single arched brow the only indication of her disbelief. He met her gaze and said nothing. He sure as hell wasn’t about to tell her the truth. She’d have his ass committed. The whole thing sounded insane, and he’d survived every moment of it.
“Well, you’re very lucky.” She glanced down at the chart. “The CAT scan of your heart came back clear as well.”
Air rushed through Vicki’s lips, and her nervous giggle filled the small, sterile room. “That’s good news.”
“Yes.” The doctor held up a finger. “But as I mentioned, an impact like this can cause unforeseen problems. Knowing that, we’d like to keep the detective here overnight for observation.”
“Of course.” Vicki nodded, her expression of relief and hope elevating his optimism.
“So, let’s get you to your room.” The doctor held out her arm to River for support, and she and Vicki helped him from the table into a wheelchair. With him settled, the doctor turned to Vicki. “I don’t suppose you’d like to elaborate on what happened out in the marsh?”
His gaze shot to Vicki. They’d concocted their story on the way to the hospital with Dauscher propped in the backseat of the Malibu next to an unconscious and half-naked Becca. After everything that had transpired in the marsh, would she remember what they’d discussed?
“You saw what we came in here with, Doctor.” Vicki’s eyebrows knitted. “My best friend was kidnapped. Detective Dauscher tried to save her, and a maniac strangled him. We got there just as he was about to kill Becca. River and the kidnapper fought, but the guy got away.” She squeezed his shoulder. “I’m not sure what you want me to say, Doctor. All I know is if River hadn’t risked his life, there’d be more bodies in the morgue instead of hospital beds.”
The doctor nodded and moved to the door. “You can come in now.”
Surprise rolled through River. He clutched the wheelchair’s armrests as the man from The Yellow Rose bar in Texas, the guy he’d believed to be the copycat killer, strode into the room.
Vicki gasped. “Matthew.”
“Good to see you, Victoria.” He smiled, smoothed the front of his boxy hospital uniform. Dressed like that, the guy blended right in with the staff. But River wasn’t fooled. The man was anything but a member of the medical profession, and his commanding demeanor confirmed the fact when he turned his attention to the doctor. “So?”
“Neither of them even hinted at the truth.” She snapped River’s folder closed. “Rebecca Carlson sustained a broken wrist and minor cuts and abrasions. The reporter, Lenny Johnston, has a broken femur, several cracked ribs. He put up a good fight.” Her gaze flitted to Vicki and then River, her face a mix of assessment and unabashed curiosity.
The hairs on River’s neck prickled. Well, hell. Seems more is going on than I realized.
The brunette turned to Matthew, her demeanor shifting back to doctor mode. “Chastain’s partner, Detective Theodore Dauscher, survived the incident, thanks to the two of them. Their combined efforts saved his life. Other than bruising on his neck, he’ll be fine.” She looked at River, her eyes bright with interest. “Rumor has it fire shot from your fingertips into your dead partner.”
He frowned. How the hell could she know that?
“Is it true?” she persisted. “You actually resurrected him?”
He met the doctor’s keen stare but kept his mouth closed. Let her figure it out.
“That’s what I thought.” She chuckled. “He’s all yours, Matthew.”
What the hell is going on?
“Thanks, Jana.” The tall guy moved aside, allowing her to exit the room, then stepped behind River’s wheelchair and pushed him through the doorway. He rolled him down the wide hallway at a leisurely pace, the rubber wheels squeaking against the polished tile floor. Stopping at the elevators, he pushed the Up button.
“What the hell are you doing?” River demanded, keeping his voice low so only the three of them could hear.
The metal doors opened, and Matthew wheeled him inside, Vicki trailing after them.
“Taking you to your room,” the man behind him answered. “Vicki, please push seven.”
She complied, and the doors closed.
“A lot of people have worked very diligently to get you and Victoria to where you are, Detective Chastain,” Matthew stated.
“You mean a lot of people manipulated us.” He tightened his fingers
around the armrests. “People died.”
“And others lived. Rebecca, Lenny, your partner. Without the two of you, Kent Rowton would have killed them all.” He released an abrupt sigh. “My time to speak with you is running short, so let me cut to the chase.”
“Please do,” River said through gritted teeth.
“I am here to make you both a very unique offer. I work with people whose sole purpose is to stop psychopathic killers who, once dead, should remain so. Like Kent Rowton. My associates also hunt terrorists who not only infiltrate and overthrow governments by using paranormal warfare but also threaten the very fabric of time. In short, this was a test of sorts—”
“Of sorts?” Vicki’s sharp words cut Matthew off. “We were almost killed. More than once. My best friend was staked to the ground, meant for sacrifice. River’s partner was possessed and forced to endure things no one should ever have to experience.” She stepped toward the taller man, her eyes blazing. “You saved me more than once, Matthew. And for that, I’m thankful. But a freaking test?”
The elevator doors opened. Vicki leaned across River, slammed her hand against the panel, and they closed again. Without hesitation, she jabbed the button for the ground floor.
“We have to be sure before we make an offer,” Matthew answered once they started moving again. “Very few people in the world know about LightFall. Your parents were agents.”
Her entire body jolted at his words. “My parents?”
Matthew’s eyes filled with sympathy. “Yes. The official story is they died in a terrorist attack in Sweden while attending a financial conference. Terrorists were involved, but not in Sweden. The truth is your parents perished in Madrid, Spain, defending the world against terrorists intent on infiltrating the Russian KGB and starting World War III.”
“They fought terrorists?”
The elevator stopped on the ground floor, and the doors parted. The man stepped into the opening and used his body to keep the doors from closing.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” River demanded.
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