by Jill Cooper
Could have stopped it? “When did you become such a defeatist?”
He moved away to the window, and Amanda watched him. Hands on his hips, he stared out at something Amanda couldn’t see. He balanced his weight from foot to foot and Amanda got the distinct impression he wanted to say something. Needed to get something off his chest, but Amanda wouldn’t push him. She knew what it was like to be pushed, and she didn’t like it.
So she sat on the bed with her cup of tea and blew softly against it, watching the ripple of water move across the steaming liquid. Like skipping a stone across the surface, that’s what Jessica used to say, before life got real hard. Back when she had been filled with curiosity and wonder.
Anger, resentment, that wasn’t Jessica’s true essence, but it blocked out a lot of the good things. They might have been negative emotions, but right now, Amanda missed them.
“Try to get some sleep. Tomorrow there’s a lot on our plate, and for my plan to work, we’re going to need your help. I’ll keep watch.” Duncan turned his head and smiled at her. “If you need anything, I’ll be right here.”
But he was tired too. Amanda saw it again in his eyes. Unable to find a way to ask him about his private pain, she ate her food and drank some tea. Then Amanda climbed into bed and faced the wall, taking a deep, longing yawn.
“You’re also going to need to wear shoes.”
6: Amanda Blood
Sleep was fitful, and in the morning, Amanda’s mouth tasted like rotted fruit, but, at least, she had survived another day. Still dark out when she opened her eyes, the first thing Amanda saw, was Duncan sunken into a chair.
He snorted and his head tossed side to side. A bad dream about Jessica? Possibly. Amanda rose quietly and tiptoed like a cat to the bathroom. If the drugs were completely out of her system, Amanda wished for a sign, but instead, all she had were dry heaves. She clung to the sink for support, as images spiraled through her mind like broken glass.
Each of them with another thought and feeling, spinning through her consciousness. Most unsettling were the ones of young Jessica Blood smiling, and those happy grins turning to screams of horror.
“You okay in there?” Duncan rapped his knuckles against the door. No doubt he was able to hear her gagging.
Amanda wiped her mouth on a clean white towel hanging on the wall. “I’m okay. Just not all the way there yet.”
“I’ll grab you something from the vending machine. Apple juice still your favorite?”
Duncan always remembered the little things. Amanda nodded her thanks even though they were separated by a shut door. “Please. Thank you, Duncan.”
“Hey,” he said softly, the words brooding off his tongue, “you never need to thank me.”
The words he said were so simple, but Amanda heard his regret and his unspoken apology. He thought he needed to atone, but for what? Skipping out on them? Amanda didn’t hold grudges; there was no room in her heart for such a thing.
****
Hospital.
But not just any hospital. A psychiatric hospital.
Not exactly Amanda’s favorite place; with how strong her powers had been in the last twelve hours, she wasn’t clamoring to go inside. In fact, as she stared up at the tower, the energy in the place surged. Trying to pull her closer. So desperate for their side of the story to be told.
In truth, she was downright terrified. Was it any wonder sometimes Amanda wished to become a hermit? Go live on top of a mountain and never see people again? Just relish that silence and absolute stillness.
Live in her own head for a little while.
There was work to be done, Aunt Gwen’s voice echoed in Amanda’s head as if she stood right beside her. It was a simple truth and one that reminded Amanda she couldn’t slink away. People needed her. Her gifts might be a curse, but at least, they could help people. Right now she really needed her gifts to help Jessica.
Easier said than done, considering the black pumps Duncan made her put on.
Duncan stood on her right and Mike on her left. Mike was at home in a suit, but Duncan dressed up like a businessman—he might as well have been a lizard trying on sheep’s wool for the first time. His arms hung unnaturally at his side. His hair, sweeping over his forehead, just didn’t seem to fit.
They were going to get caught and thrown into the brig, into jail, solitary confinement. Something. Amanda just knew it.
“You survived the night,” Duncan said, “you can survive this too.”
Amanda wasn’t too sure. The black pantsuit she wore felt restrictive and her toes were cramped up inside shoes. She got the point was to look professional, and professionals wore shoes. Heck, toddlers wore shoes. Amanda just didn’t.
But to try to get a bead on Jessica, she’d do just about anything. “Just follow our lead,” Mike spoke out of the corner of his mouth like he often did. He spun the collar around his neck and in his hand, a well-read leather bible. The corners were bent; his faithful copy. Amanda wouldn’t be surprised if he never went anywhere without that thing.
Up the marble steps they went, the towering hospital lay against the backdrop of a bright blue sky. Large marshmallow clouds slowly drifted by, but when Amanda placed her hand against the glass revolving door, it all seemed to stop. Her mind froze, and screams of terror echoed through her brain on a loop, like feedback coming from a speaker. It set her mind into a frenzy.
Amanda yanked her hand back and cradled it against her chest. Eyes wide, she pleaded with Duncan. “Can I do this?”
“If you can’t,” that toothpick twirled inside his mouth, “we might be dead in the water.”
“If she’s not strong enough…” Mike’s voice was laced with conviction. He wanted to protect her.
Nice, sweet. The taste of honey on Amanda’s tongue. She stood firm and pushed the door, spinning inside its column. On the other side, a sterile looking hotel lobby. The place struck Amanda as more corporate than hospital, with its smell of citrus balanced against antiseptic.
Elevators dinged and there was light chatter behind the receptionist station where two ladies sat. They answered the humming phones, behind them a mahogany wall.
It didn’t remind her of the place Jessica spent her formative years. That place had been dingy, dirty, with a fog hanging on it that masked the true terror that went on behind closed doors. Though her powers had just bloomed then, and it had still been a scary place to visit.
Very Scary.
They passed through the metal detector with ease because their weapons were back in the car. An uneasy glance passed between the gentlemen. Amanda’s foot was cushioned by the carpet, and she didn’t care for how it felt against her pump.
She paused, only to have Duncan take her by the arm like a suitor—slow and gentle—and lead her to the counter. “Keep your mind focused and all these thoughts and feelings at bay, all right?”
She nodded she would, but her heart cried a song. Amanda never learned to control it, why hadn’t she listened to Gwen a little bit harder?
The ladies at the desk swiveled in their chairs as they got closer. Their eyes swept across them but landed straight on Duncan. Figured, but Amanda wasn’t one to cast blame. He was really easy on the eyes and with everything going on, there was days old stubble on his chin. Rugged. Sexy. Amanda could see what they saw in him.
Duncan flashed his billfold to the blond and brunette behind the counter. “Special Agents Startler and Waldorf, here to escort the priest here to see one of your patients.”
Mike made the sign of the cross in mid-air and kissed the front of his bible, for effect. Amanda had to agree, it was effective, all right.
But the nurses barely took their eyes off Duncan. The blond rested her chin in her hand, her pearl bracelet slipping down her arm. “Which one? We have lots of those, Agent.”
Amanda put her hand down on the counter and ignored the charge of images flashing in her mind. Like closing a door, she tried her best to seal herself off. “Ronald Wax.”
> The lady snorted and sat up straighter. “The mass killer lunatic?”
Duncan smiled and leaned on the counter. “Alleged, right? Besides, everyone has a right to confession. A last visit with his priest.”
She rolled her eyes and handed him a clipboard. “Sign in. Then head up to level thirty-two. It’s where we keep the most disturbed patients.”
At least, the ones who went around murdering everyone.
Duncan signed their names and then handed the clipboard back to the receptionist with a wink. He led Amanda by the arm up the small set of stairs toward the elevator. Her heels clicked in uneven rhythm against the tile. Shoes were impossible to walk in.
“They’ll never let you in to see him,” the receptionist called after them.
Maybe not normally, but that was left up to Amanda. Jessica didn’t call her the closer for nothing.
*****
Thirty-two floors of sheer mind-blowing terror.
Shadows and memories moved inside the steel walls, but when the elevator dinged open Amanda saw the worst of it. The thirty-second floor was where the most dangerous inmates were kept and proof of that seeped through the walls. Hand prints of terror stamped through stucco and screams vibrated from the wallpaper.
Amanda stepped out and felt woozy as her legs shook, Duncan held her close by, but with a casual arm draped over her waist. “Keep it together,” he said nice and slow. His smile wouldn’t draw attention to them.
No, that was on all Amanda. She tried her best to keep a stoic face, but as an orderly passed them, she quivered. His eyes were soulless and the back of his balding head shifted with a cackling smile. He might not be a demon, but his soul was ill-fitted. He meant harm to the people behind these walls. Terrified, Amanda shifted away from him and stared at Mike.
His eyes met hers but were balanced. If he sensed what Amanda felt, there was no outward sign. For a priest, he was pretty deaf to the spiritual nature of such a place. Tone deaf, of sorts, to the evil that crept all around them.
At the end of the hall stood a brown door guarded by an officer. In his police cap, he was all business, gazing straight ahead. He smelled like coffee and his wife’s perfume. “Stay close,” Duncan said, “and let me do the talking.”
Sounded great to Amanda, and Mike only huffed with a nod, but at least, he wasn't nervous. His emotions were static. He'd be a psychologists dream.
As they approached the police officer on duty, Amanda couldn’t help, but get a little nervous. Most the time it had been Jessica who had trouble with the police, but Amanda felt sour about the entire situation.
“Can I help you?” The officer asked in a less than friendly voice.
Duncan flashed billfold that he was so fond of. “Special Agents Beaker and Benson, here to see the prisoner.”
The officer gave Duncan the once over, his eyes bore into him, a defensive anger simmering in the cop’s gut. Already he didn’t like them. Great. “You don’t have any jurisdiction here with this prisoner. What’s up with that priest?” The cop nodded his head at Mike, who simply smiled a mile of platitudes.
“He’s with us as a consultant. Grisly murders, sacrificial in nature. We think this might be our guy. If you could spare us a handful of minutes…”
Duncan sounded official enough, but the cop blinked staring straight ahead. “Did you clear it with my captain, because unless you did…”
Frustrated, Duncan licked his lips and inside steamed like a latched kettle.
“Listen, Agent, I get it, but this jackass is as crazy as they come. He won't say a thing; it's a waste of your time, my time. We should just fry him right now.”
Duncan wasn’t going to get anywhere with the cop, but that didn’t keep him from trying. He opened his mouth to speak, but Amanda pushed between him and the officer.
Delicately she placed her hand on the officer’s and gave it a good old fashioned squeeze. “Please, just a few short questions. It won’t hurt anyone if he doesn’t say anything, will it?”
His eyes locked with Amanda’s and a strange sensation overcame her. She felt the energy pulsing down her arm into the cop. Her mind buzzed with rich colors and just when it couldn’t get more intense, Amanda was blinded by a flash of light in her inner most eye. She saw this cop as just a boy playing in a field. A sweet vulnerable boy who was open to mind manipulation.
Her insides turned to jelly as she let go of the officer’s arm. He sighed and slipped the key from his pocket. “You have a few minutes, but that’s all I can spare, Ma’am.”
Duncan’s eyes narrowed. “That’s Agent Benson to you,” he muttered, but Amanda just smiled her thanks as the steel door was unlocked. Then, one by one, they stepped through, leaving the cop outside to guard the entrance.
“Did you...how’d you change his mind?” Mike asked.
That wasn’t what she did…was it? Amanda couldn’t admit to something she knew nothing about.
“They don’t call her the closer just for nothing,” Duncan said, but his voice was laced with worry. Amanda sensed he didn’t feel as jovial as he pretended, but it wasn’t hard to see why. So distracted by Duncan’s emotions, it took a moment for Amanda’s eyes to fall onto Ron.
The steril room had white walls with white sheets on the bed. Ron sat in white pajamas, white socks, and even white shoes. The place must go through bleach like some people went through the water. Ron rocked back and forth on the bed, his arms tight around himself, mumbling.
“I’m coming for her. I won’t be stopped. You have to stop me.” He said it once and then as if on an automatic loop, he just started saying it again.
And again.
Duncan’s face sank as low as his spirit. It came off him in a bundle of waves, but he didn’t see what Amanda did. For all intents and purposes, he was alone, but a black haze of smoke misted around Ron. It almost took form, with long tendril-like fingers snarled around his form. Purple eyes blinked in the middle and whatever this was, it was no simple demon.
It was a curse. A mark left on his soul.
Duncan started toward the bed. Amanda touched his arm. “There’s something at work here that is dangerous. It has a hold on him. Be careful.”
He gulped and Mike opened his bible. Making the sign of the cross, he started to read a passage. Duncan strolled over to Ron and sat down on the edge of the bed with him. Ron rocked back and forth harder, faster. His face scrunched as he fought the urge to cry.
“Ron, buddy,” Duncan’s voice threatened to reveal his true pent up grief. “What happened at the bar? I know this wasn’t you, so why don’t you tell me…”
Ron’s eyes squeezed shut and he only repeated what he had said when they first stepped into the room. “I’m coming for her. I’m not going to stop. You have to stop me.” The more he said it, the more urgent his voice sounded.
Duncan glanced over at Amanda for guidance. “Any ideas how to break through to him?”
Amanda didn’t, but then she stared straight into Ron’s face and saw the terror. The way his eyes ticked left and right. The buildup of anxiety, frustration, loneliness. He wanted to speak, Amanda was sure of it, he just couldn’t. Not with the mist of the curse strangling the life out of him.
“I’m coming for her. I’m not going to stop. You have to stop me.”
Her hand extended toward him and Amanda stepped out of her shoes. Her feet firmly against the cold gray linoleum and they screamed with relief. She took a step forward. Duncan stood and met her before she could touch Ron, using his body as a shield for what she was about to do.
“You sure about this?” Duncan asked.
Amanda nodded. She was sure.
“If you touch him, it could be bad, girl.” Duncan shook his head. There was doubt there, worry. Would Jessica be happy with the way Amanda kept putting herself on the line?
“There’s only one way through this,” she said as Mike gathered around and they formed a protective circle around her. “The cop out there is growing restless; we don’t have tim
e to argue about what’s the best for me.”
Mike sighed and rubbed his face. “If there’s trouble, we’re pulling you free, all right?”
She appreciated it. Amanda sat down on the bed beside Ron. His eyes took her in like a scared child taking in a vision of Santa for the first time. Friend or foe? Amanda raised her hand, her fingers trembling at the thought of touching him. Of feeling the evil that circled him; of getting close enough to touch his soul.
“I’m coming for her. I’m not going to stop. You have to stop me.”
“Sssh…” Amanda said gently, closed her eyes and laid her hand against the flesh of his skin, just under his sleeve.
Aware of her pulse and her breath, Amanda’s vision flashed brightly. She stood inside the basement where Ron first encountered Jessica. Her sweet sister, with an unnatural sneer upon her face. Her red hair hanging like vines in front of her face, the red glow of her unnatural tattoos reflecting off the walls.
She grabbed Ron’s throat and she said the words to him that Ron now couldn’t stop repeating. “I’m coming for her. I’m not going to stop. You have to stop me.”
It wasn’t a threat. It was a warning. Something Jessica begged from the very depths of her soul. Oh, how Amanda wept for her.
As she came to, Amanda’s brow peaked and sweat covered her forehead. She had been taking deep, shallow breaths through her mouth that she hadn’t even meant to take. Mike was on his knee beside her and Duncan stood behind, his hands on her shoulders.
“You were crying out,” the worry in his voice was thick, slathering, and rich. All of which made Amanda think of hot fudge, and boy right now, suddenly she was starving.
Starving.
Glancing down at her hand, Amanda saw her hand was glowing. Had she started healing him without realizing it? The thick black misty around Ron was gone, and he blinked his eyes. With a quiver, he licked his lips. “Amanda, is that you, kid?”