Crystal Fire

by Jordan Dane

  Stewart Estate

  Hours later

  Rayne had tried to help Gabriel, but he looked miserable and refused to talk. He’d turned down food, even though he hadn’t eaten since yesterday, and looked exhausted. His face flinched as if he had a splitting headache, but he didn’t complain.

  Gabriel went to the great room, drawn to the fire. He gazed into the raging flames in the hearth, mesmerized by them. Rayne had followed him there but gave him space now. He had a comforter around him even though the room was stifling hot, and he kept tossing logs onto the blaze. Gabe finally quit stoking the fire when his uncle went to talk to him.

  “We have to do something.” Rayne paced the floor and kept her voice to a whisper, as she watched Gabriel and his uncle from across the large room.

  Lucas and Kendra were with her. They all watched from a distance to give them privacy. None of them were close enough to hear the conversation, but when Uncle Reginald was done, he had a dour look on his face as he joined them.

  “I don’t mean to alarm any of you,” his uncle said. “But I noticed something odd about how Gabriel spoke to me a minute ago.”

  Rayne had seen Gabe shift from annoyed to angry, something she’d never seen him do with an uncle he loved like a real father. Sure, he had anger issues when it came to his bio-dad. Who wouldn’t? The man had something to do with the death of Gabe’s mother. That would wreck any father–son relationship, but the mood swings she’d seen from Gabe today looked as if he was suffering from a migraine that was getting worse.

  “What did he say?” Rayne asked his uncle.

  “It wasn’t what he said. It was more the way he said it.” Uncle Reginald fixed his worried gaze on his nephew. “He lost his accent. It came and went, actually. He’s fighting whoever is inside him, but I can’t be sure if he’s winning.”

  “I’ve noticed something too,” Lucas said. “Whenever I’m around Gabriel, I get a steady buzz of energy. It jacks me up, in a good way, but I haven’t felt it since he collapsed at Haven Hills. I thought it was because he’d passed out. Guess I was wrong. I didn’t notice it missing until now.”

  “He’s weak. I can feel it.” Kendra fixed her gaze on Gabe’s uncle. “We have to stop this...or slow it down. Any ideas?”

  Rayne looked to Uncle Reginald. They all did.

  “One, maybe, but I’ll need all of you.” Gabe’s uncle shifted his gaze between them. “I have no idea if it’ll work.”

  After Uncle Reginald told them what he had in mind, Rayne agreed to do her part. When they left her alone with Gabe, she knelt in front of him with her arms crossed over his knees. His face looked flush and tinged with misery as he stared into the fire with his honey-amber eyes reflecting a soft glimmer of golden heat. When he turned to her, she touched his cheek.

  “I’m s-sorry to be such a—” he said in a whisper.

  Before he went on, she touched his lips with a finger and shook her head so he’d stop. “You’re having a bad day, times two. You didn’t ask for this.”

  Beautiful, generous Gabriel had tried to apologize for something he had no control over. He had a hitchhiker onboard, a guy who looked as if he’d walked off the set of a Road Warrior remake. Rayne wanted to hate the guy in black for what he’d done to Gabriel, but he could be another innocent victim of the Believers. She feared that was why Gabe had been so lost and conflicted. He wouldn’t hurt this kid if there were any chance he needed help—no matter what that meant for him.

  “I need you to come with me,” she said.

  Gabriel looked as if he’d refuse, but when Rayne held out her hand, he took it.

  North of L.A.

  Rafael stared at his naked reflection in a tall mirror. If he gritted his teeth any more, they’d fuse together. Strands of his damp hair hung in his face and he didn’t care. His skin was flush from exertion and still carried the marks of red handprints where the bastards had grabbed him.

  “Don’t he smell pretty?” one guy said.

  He blew Rafe a fake kiss in the mirror with a stupid smirk on his face. The other one only shook his head and kept toweling him off.

  “Asshole.” Rafe glared and spoke in English this time. He didn’t want the guy to misunderstand his meaning.

  “Orders, kid. Nothin’ personal.”

  The two guys with no necks had stripped him of his clothes and tossed them into the trash like garbage. They hauled him into a steaming-hot gym shower with his hands cuffed behind his back. If the guys had been naked too, he would’ve killed the sick fucks, but they only scrubbed his skin raw, manhandled him with a soapy rag and washed his hair. While they did, he cursed their mothers for giving birth to them, but nothing stopped the abuse.

  They’d cleaned him up. Now what? Rafael didn’t want to know, but when one of them opened a locker that had a garment bag hanging in it, he grimaced. After the bag got unzipped and he saw what was inside, he shoved back.

  “No way.” He shook his head. “This is bullshit!”

  One of the jerks hauled him back by the hair. “Sorry, kid. Orders.”

  Twenty minutes later

  Rafael couldn’t breathe and everything pinched. He craned his neck trying to get comfortable, but nothing helped. He sneezed at the smell of the spicy cologne they made him wear, but that wasn’t the worst of it. They’d forced him into a damned suit and tie.

  “Pendejos,” he muttered under her breath.

  The jerks from the shower handed him off to the next guys, who hauled him handcuffed through the mansion, past fancy paintings like in a museum and chandeliers that looked like diamonds. They probably were. He ended up in a dining room bigger than his whole apartment in the projects where he had lived with his old man before he ran away, after the bastard almost killed him.

  One man sat at the head of a long shiny table, dressed in pricey threads. He’d already started eating, but glanced up when Rafe came into the room.

  “Excellent. Glad you could make it.”

  Rafael scrunched his face and looked behind him. Who is this clown talkin’ to?

  “I’ve set a place for you. Eggs, ham, potatoes. I hope you like coffee.”

  Rafael stared at a man who looked as if he could run for president. The suit couldn’t look him in the eye and he had businessman hair, not a strand out of place and gray at the temples. He smiled without a scrap of sincerity and Rafe didn’t trust him. The guy could run for Congress.

  “Take off his cuffs and leave us. I’ll be fine.” The man didn’t have to say it twice. His men did as they were told and Rafe sat, looking down at a plate of warm food.

  Rafael had every intention of letting pride get between him and the ham and eggs on his plate, but since he’d already lost whatever dignity he had in the shower, he changed his mind and grabbed a fork. He knew better than to screw this up with talking. He kept his mouth shut, except for when he ate.

  “When was the last time you had something to eat?” the suit asked.

  Rafael only shrugged and kept eating. The coffee looked good, but he grabbed the tall glass of water instead and sucked it down as if he’d been lost in the desert. He ate in silence, except for the sounds of his fork hitting the plate, until the suit ruined it.

  “My name is Alexander Reese...in case you’re curious.”

  Rafe stopped his fork midshovel and glared at the man. He’d recognized the name. Gabriel had said it first. This guy was in charge of the Believers here in L.A. The man smiled when he noticed his reaction, but grinned more when he realized Rafe hadn’t tried to cover up his hatred. The guy thought he knew why he reacted the way he did, but he didn’t know a damned thing.

  This son of a bitch, with his fancy clothes and house, had been the one who killed Benny. He was in charge and had given the order. Nothing else meant jack shit to Rafael.

  “I understand you know Gabriel Stew
art. Don’t bother to deny it.” The man cut into a slice of ham and ate it without looking at him. “Give him up and I’ll quit pursuing the others. He’s the only one I want. You tell me where he is and I secure him, you’re free to go.”

  Rafe already knew he wasn’t leaving this place alive. The guy had punched his ticket for sure when he told him his name. Free to go, my ass. He put down his fork and slipped it into his sleeve to hide it. If the guy was stupid enough to give him something sharp, he’d be dumber not to take it.

  “You expect me to believe you,” Rafe said.

  “I don’t care if you do or not. I’m just giving you a chance to do this the easy way.”

  A snake in a suit, that’s what the man was. Rafael smiled.

  “Mister, I wouldn’t know how to do things easy, so bring it. I’m not telling you anything about Gabriel or anyone else.”

  Rafe had had enough bullshit. With the fork gripped in his hands and under the table, he shoved back his chair to brace for a fight. But before he made his move to stab the guy, a shadow stopped him. Rafe felt a familiar chill and knew what it was before anything happened.

  The room faded to a blur and time slowed to a sputtering stop. Rafe sensed a displacement of air as if a door had sprung open to another dimension, but shut with a sucking stillness that almost hurt his ears. Alexander Reese drank coffee as if he didn’t notice what had happened behind him.

  A wooden panel in the corner of the dining room rippled until it bulged like an ocean’s wave. The wall gave birth to a horror that Rafe had never seen. The bloodied body of a woman popped from the wood until it was free, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. Dark veins laced under gray skin pulsed and throbbed as if the ghost still had a beating heart. Black hair in a tumble was crusted in blood from an open head wound. Tendrils of pitch-black hair curled into twists as if a preternatural wind caught the strands. Her eyes were fixed on him.

  When the dead woman realized he could see her, she glided to the table in a sudden rush. He swallowed, hard. Couldn’t breathe. Damn!

  The spirit lingered behind Alexander Reese and glared at the man with eyes that turned to bloodred embers. That’s when Rafael recognized her. The ghost of Lady Kathryn, Gabriel’s mother. It had to be her.

  Rafe had heard the story after Benny’s funeral. Gabe wanted the truth out, about how he knew the name of the man in charge of the Believers. He had to admit that he was mad at first, but after he thought about how no one gets to pick their fathers, Rafe listened to what Gabe had to say. That’s when he found out about how Kathryn had died. A car accident, courtesy of Alexander Reese, bought and paid for.

  “Gabriel loves his mother, even still,” Rafe said. He fixed his gaze on the dead woman, looking over Reese’s shoulder as the man ate. “Not a day goes by, that boy doesn’t think of her. She’s still his source of power. His love for her will always be his strength. Gabriel and his mother will bring you down. I’d bet on it.”

  Rafael felt his eyes fill.

  “Bet on the dead? You’re a fool...and you don’t know anything about his mother.” Reese wiped his mouth and couldn’t look him in the eye.

  “I know enough. Every child’s heart carries its own memory of the first heartbeat it hears. Mothers never leave their children—ever—not even in death. That kind of love...stays. I’ve never had anyone love me like that...except for Benny.”

  It took Gabriel’s dead mother—and the voice of his own heart—for Rafe to realize he still had Benny. It wasn’t the way he would’ve wanted, but it would have to be enough. Someone like him, he’d been blessed to love Benny at all.

  “Who’s Benny?”

  Rafe didn’t know if he could talk about him with the one who had ordered him dead, but before he could answer, Kathryn turned into ice crystals. From the top of her head down, she crackled and changed until she was encased in ice. When she was done, she let the crystals thaw. In seconds a wash of colors melted down her curves and turned her back into the beautiful woman she had been in life. She wore a long velvet robe and had a glittering tiara on her head. Rafael recognized the image he’d seen of her on the circus billboards at the Stewart Estate. Lady Kathryn.

  Rafe’s throat wedged tight. She let him feel her pain of not being with her son to see him grow up. He felt the same thing about Benny and let her suffer his loss in a way he couldn’t have shared it with anyone else. The dead don’t need words. He released his grief in her care and knew she’d understand. After Rafe saw a tear trickle down the dead woman’s cheek, she nodded. In that moment he believed that she cried for Benny too.

  Seeing Kathryn standing over Alexander Reese, she let him sense why she was there. The dead woman had every intention of screwing with the man who killed her. If he could help her do that, he’d be willing to try. He was as good as dead anyway. It didn’t hurt him to have friends on the other side.

  “Tell me something,” Rafe said to Reese. “Do you believe in heaven?”

  “I’m a religious man. Of course I do.”

  “Guess that means you believe in hell too.” Rafe glanced at Kathryn with a smile only she would understand. “You better get real comfortable with that idea.”

  Alexander Reese stopped eating.

  “Tell me something else, Believer. How do you justify killing innocent kids if you believe in God?”

  “You’re neither innocent nor human, that’s how. You’re a plague on mankind. I’m doing God and humanity a service.”

  Some people were a waste of skin, but this guy had taken hate to a whole new level.

  “You fathered one of us. Gabriel is your son, but no one in your church knows that, do they?” When the man flinched, he knew he’d hit the bull’s-eye. “Is that why you had your men leave us alone? No one else knows about Gabriel. That’s why I’m here instead of Ward 8.”

  “You must be psychic,” the man said, sneering. “Yes, I’m sorry to say that Gabriel is indeed my son. How did you know?”

  “It explains why he never talks about you.” Rafael yanked off his tie and threw it on the floor. He’d had enough, of everything. “I got a father like you. You remind me of him, only you carry a different kind of bat.”

  Kathryn drifted over Reese like a darkening storm and spiraled into the frightening and angry ghost she had been. The robe and tiara were gone. When a strong scent of perfume filled the air, it looked as if Reese must’ve smelled it too. His head jerked and he shifted his gaze around the room. Real paranoid.

  The dead woman had sent Rafe a clear message that he now understood. Whatever the guy had done, he wouldn’t get away with it—not in this world or the next. Rafe wanted revenge for Benny’s death, but that wouldn’t bring him back. Knowing what it took for Gabriel’s mother to appear to him—to let him know she had chosen to haunt her killer rather than be with her son—how could he take what was rightfully hers?

  “He’s all yours,” Rafe said. “Make it count for Benny too.”

  He kept his eyes on Kathryn when he tossed the fork onto the table. After she mouthed the words Thank you, Alexander Reese stood and threw his napkin down. By the look on the man’s face, he knew what Rafe had intended to do with his makeshift weapon. If he had known why he’d given up on the idea, he might’ve been more scared.

  “Guards!” Reese yelled. After his men rushed into the room, he said, “Civility is wasted on someone like you.”

  “Funny. I was thinking the same thing,” Rafe said.

  As two men in suits grabbed his arms and hauled him from his chair, Rafael shouted at Reese, but what he said was meant for Kathryn.

  “You wanna know about Benny? You gave the order that killed him. He was a ten-year-old kid. He wasn’t even one of us,” Rafe yelled as they dragged him from the room. “Don’t think heaven is waitin’ for you. Your next suit should be made of asbestos, asshole.”

  Alexander Reese
waved his hand in disgust. “Take him to a cell, gentlemen. I’ll be down shortly,” the man said, but before Rafe got out the door, he called out, “What’s your gift, boy? I’m curious.”

  The men stopped dragging him and Rafael looked over his shoulder with a smile.

  “You recognize that perfume, cabron?” When he saw that the man did, he said, “That’s Kathryn sending her regards. She’s here...for you.”

  He knew he’d made things worse, but Rafe didn’t care. Seeing the shocked look on Alexander Reese’s face made it worth whatever would happen to him now.

  13

  Haven Hills Treatment Facility

  Ward 8

  Caila hated seeing Oliver so broken. A tube had been taped into his mouth, and his beautiful eyes, which she always wanted to see, were closed. His skin looked ghostly pale and his lungs filled through a pump. The incessant beeping of machines and flashes of lights had replaced everything that made Oliver human. Had the same thing happened to Zack before his brain ended up in a jar? Seeing Oliver unconscious and hooked to machines made Caila sick.

  I’m sorry, Oliver. I’m so sorry. She repeated those words in her head, hoping he’d hear her, but he looked dead. What had they done to him?

  “He’s in a coma. If you can reach him, there’s still time to save his life,” Dr. Fiona said. “But it’s up to you now.”

  Caila fought the restraints on her arms. She wanted to touch Oliver—to see if he was still in his body—to know if he was alive, but they had tied her to a wheelchair. Strangling this arrogant doctor came a close second for what she wanted to do with her hands. This woman had done something to Oliver that put him in a coma. Now she made it seem as if she were the only one who could save him.

  “What do you w-want...me to d-do?” Caila choked on every word. It took all her willpower to hide the hatred she felt for this woman.

  “Like Oliver visited you, he did the same with someone else. That boy is the one who hurt Oliver. He did this. I’m sure of it.”