by Alexia Reed
It was easier to shut her up. No one wanted their secrets laid out in the open.
Balling her fist against her forehead, she shook her head, pushing her fingers into her mussed hair. “Give me a bit of time. I’ll deal with this. Don’t sedate me.”
He studied her and pushed a strand of hair away from her face.
“It’s a booster. I’m not sedating you. Your abilities are scattered. This will strengthen the pathways and give you some relief.”
The sting was minimal. His hands were gentle, his touch warm. She let out a breath.
“Tell me what’s going on.” Discarding the needle, he let her get to her feet and followed her into the lab as she moved toward the sink to splash water onto her face.
She glanced at the mirror, looking for the proof. At her hairline, Amy stared at the marks, the fingerprint-like scars that were hidden by her hair. “All these years… I thought I was imagining him. He came around when I was overloading, when I was barely conscious so I thought he wasn’t real.” She shook her head in confusion and dried her hands, turning around to face J.C. To face Drake. “I felt something on him. I didn’t know what it was at first. It’s the killer’s mark. His signature is all over Drake’s aura and mine as well. He’s been tapping Drake between kills. The only problem is that by tapping the children—even multiple sources—it’s not enough. He needs too much to feel alive and can only achieve that if he drains them dry.”
“That explains the disappearing abilities. Damn it.”
“Their abilities will regenerate over time as the shock to their system wears off.”
“Son of a bitch.” J.C. whirled around. “Why didn’t you tell me, Drake?”
J.C. didn’t understand what it felt like to be imprinted by another, to have another feed off their life energy. The boy would have been too confused to know that he needed help. And it wouldn’t have registered on any assessment test.
Looking close to tears, Drake stuttered incomprehensibly.
Amy felt for the boy. He had to be scared shitless. “He didn’t know what was going on. None of the children would have memory of it. For the most part, the killer simply had to be in the same room as them to siphon it. He doesn’t need to touch them.”
J.C. sighed as he rubbed a hand over his mouth. “I’ll set up more security around the children’s wing and the classrooms. If the killer just has to be in the same room, that may be a bit difficult to control, but I hope having guards around them will deter him.” Leaning down, he went to the boy’s level. “We’ll figure this out, okay? I’m going to get those marks on your record expunged, but first, I need to see to your safety.”
Drake said nothing, just nodded. The first tears began to spill, his bottom lip trembling.
“Hey.” J.C.’s voice dropped, softening the harsh tone he’d taken earlier. Amy watched, her heart melting as he hugged the boy, whispering something she couldn’t hear. When Drake looked up again, he smiled and ran out of the room.
“He’s going to stay with Darilynn tonight. I’ll make the arrangements with her later. He has a bit of a crush on her.” Although the corners of his lips lifted, his expression remained a blank mask. Unless she went into his head, she didn’t know what he was thinking. “I didn’t want Drake to hear any more of this conversation. He doesn’t need to be terrified that a monster is going to drain his life away. Now, tell me what else I need to know.”
“The killer fed off me. When psychics overload, their energy goes crazy. It would have been easy for him to tap that and restore equilibrium. It takes a lot to drain a life, so Drake shouldn’t be affected too much.” As long as the killer was caught. Easing her hair back, she showed him the marks at the edge of her scalp, a scar-like brand that was barely visible if you weren’t looking for it. “Evidence.”
His gaze met hers, the amber of his irises darkening as he reached up to rub his fingers over those marks. He lowered his hand, curling it into a tight fist.
“All those children the Council black marked…nothing was wrong with them. Nothing, but the fact that a psycho was using them as a feeding source. I didn’t see it.” The mask gave way, the raw emotion on his face saying more than his words ever could as he punched the cabinet, wood splintering against the force of his anger. “Goddamn it, they were children!”
There was more. She could see it in the taut lines of his body as he held himself rigid.
“J.C.—” She drew his face toward hers, looked into his eyes and knew his reaction went beyond the deaths, “—what’s going on in that head of yours?”
“I failed them.” He pulled away to pace around the room. “I was the leader. They depended on me.”
“You blew up the lab to protect everyone.”
“I took a stand everyone else refused to take,” he bit out. The intensity in his eyes made her take a step back.
But there was more to him blowing up his lab. She saw it in his eyes. “What happened? Why did you do it instead of waiting?” she asked softly.
He made a low, strangled sound in his throat that might have been a sarcastic laugh. “Because I had just watched a little girl die. She was barely old enough to know what was going on. How many need to die before the Council realizes what they’re doing?”
His furious gaze locked on hers. Drawn forward, Amy was pulled into his head. He was so volatile that she couldn’t stop it. He was thinking about the girl—a small little thing with eyes that looked right through him. Sara. She’d been a clairvoyant and had gone to J.C. after she’d collapsed in class. He’d managed to stabilize her but after that first incident, she continued to gradually get worse.
He spent the last hours of her life with her, offering as much comfort as he could. It didn’t matter, though. After watching her deteriorate and not being able to stop it, she died in his arms. Her death hadn’t been easy or fast. He’d been helpless to do anything to help her, her cries tearing him apart.
“I did what I had to,” he yelled. “And for what? Not a damn thing has changed. I failed. I didn’t protect the children.”
“You still did something.”
“Don’t make light of my failure.” He moved forward, eyes glittering with something she couldn’t read. His hands curled around her shoulders, his thighs pinning hers against the cool stainless steel table. “I got caught. My bomb didn’t work.”
She nearly swallowed her tongue at the contact of his body pressed up against hers. “Because someone tampered with it. That wasn’t your fault.”
“Amy, think about it. The scientists were already dead before I went to my lab. Someone knew what we were planning and killed the scientists. Because I was arrogant enough to think I could take down the Centre. I walked right into my lab and didn’t even know they were dead in the adjoining storage room.”
“What could you have done had you known?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “At that point, my main focus was destroying everything so that we could get everyone to safety. I thought they were with the children as planned. I didn’t even realize the bomb had been messed with, not until I activated it and found it counting down from five minutes. I couldn’t stop it. I tried, but it wouldn’t accept my password.”
“You barely got out alive.”
His hands slid down her bare arms, one inch at time, fingers tightening around her wrist. When he slipped his thumb beneath the leather band, the shock of his warm skin against hers made her jump. “I get people killed.”
His words shook her, the angry grief underlying them evident. “J.C., you’re not responsible for Leila’s death. You didn’t kill her.”
“If I hadn’t started all of this, she would be safe.” His lips curled in a snarl. “I knew there was a traitor among us, a spy working with the Council. I was stupid to think that my plans would be safe. Instead, she died. You shouldn’t trust me. I’ll only get you killed.
”
“No, I’d be dead if you hadn’t helped me.” Easing her one hand free of his grasp, she caught his chin between her fingers, forcing his gaze to hers. “No one would have listened to me. They would have locked me back up and if the killer didn’t come back for me, then I’d probably go crazy.”
“You can’t be that trusting. I’m dangerous. You should stay away,” he muttered. “I need to get one of the others to watch you. I’ll help train your abilities but that has to be all this can ever be.”
Her heart skittered within her chest. Her breath caught in her throat as his mouth hovered inches from hers, electrifying all of her senses. ”I’m not going anywhere.”
“I don’t want to be responsible for you.” The walls he put up slammed in place between them.
“No one asked you to be.”
Twining her fingers into his hair, she lifted herself and dragged his mouth to hers. There was no way she’d let him put distance between them. Especially not after what he’d shared with her. Wanting to comfort him as he had her so many times before, she kissed him softly.
Darkness.
The press of his mouth to hers was almost too much. Almost. She cried out against the strength of him. Energy arched across her mind, the white flash of heat burning, leaving her shaking.
She had to grip his shoulders tightly for support. To hold onto him. She tried to catch her breath but he’d claimed her mouth, sweeping her mind away and deeper into his. His kiss was like a drug, hooking her instantly and making her an addict.
Her lashes lifted. Gold eyes watched—hot and brutal—demanding and, at the same time, safe. Before she could do more than pull in a breath, his mouth was back on hers, his hand easing her closer.
Her mind spun too fast with sensation—the heavy heat of his hand, the roughness of his jaw, even the press of his jean clad leg against hers. She shifted in response, angling her body into his.
Her lips burned and opening them, she felt his tongue slide against hers. The scent of him rushed into her, a combination that was spicy and wild. His palm slid down her spine and around to her stomach. His fingers eased up her shirt, touching her, skin to skin
Her mind started to misfire but she refused to pull away. She wanted to feel, to know what it felt like to be wanted. His palm slid higher to cup her breast. She sucked in a breath and he took advantage, kissing her harder, deeper.
Excruciatingly aware, pain combined with the pleasure and she whimpered against his mouth. She didn’t pull away. Couldn’t.
* * *
The instant J.C. realized that he’d pushed her too far, he put up his shields and shoved her out. Her eyes stayed closed, lips soft and swollen. And damn if he didn’t feel the kick of arousal at the sight. He hadn’t expected to feel this drive of desire, but as he stared at her mouth, wet from his kiss, he couldn’t think about anything else.
He drew away and felt the pleasure of her small nails in his hair as she tried to bring him back to her. “Amy.”
Her teeth caught her bottom lip.
“Open your eyes, Amy.” He couldn’t help the rough sound of his voice. He forced himself back a step, taking her hands from his hair. Bringing one hand up, he nipped the sensitive skin of her wrist and watched her eyes jerk open.
Normally when her eyes opened, they’d be a soft dreamy blue. The eyes that stared back at him were dark, pupils dilated.
It only reminded him how far he’d pushed her, shoving her figuratively off that edge and leaving her dangling. Now, she watched him warily as she stumbled ten steps back until she was nearly at the door, her fingers scrambling to put the leather bracelet back in place.
“I shouldn’t have done that. I apologize.” He watched her press her fist against her forehead.
“Don’t apologize. I’m tired of letting other people dictate what I can and can’t do and that includes you.” Her dark eyes stared up at him. Every emotion and desire displayed in them. “I want to get some air, that’s all.”
J.C. watched as she hurried away. It only complicated matters. Rubbing a hand over his mouth, he shot a glance at Drake’s files, then to his phone. He would make it up to Amy later, but at the moment, he had other matters at hand.
Like tracking a killer who was feeding off the children’s life energy.
Chapter Fourteen
Blood warmed her skin. As it spilled from the ugly gash at her throat, the darker the world became. Dizzy and weak, she hung in the chains, wanting nothing more than for it to be over. The woman knew it wouldn’t be as simple as that and as the killer pressed his hand against the wound, it wasn’t to staunch the blood.
Amy’s heart tripped, her palms sweaty as she swung her body around in the fork of a dark corridor, somewhere deep in the Crypt. The place was like a damn labyrinth with so many corridors and sub-levels that she felt as though she was simply going deeper and deeper.
The overhead light flickered, but she refused to think about it failing while she was lost. There was nothing worse than being trapped in the dark while locked in a memory trail of death.
As she turned around a corner, the scent of ammonia hit her. Holding her breath, she followed the cement wall and stared down at the row of empty cells lining both sides of the narrow hall.
Edging closer, goosebumps prickled her skin. She shivered, cautiously moving one step at a time. At the last cell on the block, she had to stop herself from recoiling at the sharp odor that permeated the air.
Death.
The back of her neck tingled, cold air brushing along sensitive skin. She glanced behind her, almost expecting to see someone in the hall with her, but she was alone.
Chains clattered and fell.
Amy screamed and spun around. A rat scurried across a small wooden, splintered bench, drawing her attention down where something flickered on the ground.
Frowning, she glanced around once more then edged inside slowly, almost expecting the door to slam shut and lock her in. When it didn’t, she bent beside the bench to touch the gold chain.
The small feminine locket made her heart race. She ran her thumb along the top and drew back at the sensation at the greasy trace of energy. It had the same signature she read off Drake. The same signature stamped all over her.
Gripping the necklace, Amy turned her head. The cell was cramped, the chains that would have locked the person up rusted and crusted with dirt. She could see, if she squinted, marks from fingernails of the person trying to get free. A small cracked toilet stood in the corner, if it could be called one. Disgusted, she turned back to the small bench.
The black energy of death was thick in here. Whoever had recently died left a mark. Amy looked down at the locket again.
“Who were you?” she whispered to the dead woman, “What did they do to you?”
Only the room held the answers, the stains of blood and other body fluids telling the tale of horrors too terrifying to mention. Death was never pretty. It didn’t just end with blood. When the body let go…it was ugly.
She rose to her knees, pressing her palms to the wooden bench. Rocked by the pain this room radiated, Amy closed her eyes.
“What are you doing here?”
Eyes opening in shock, Amy slapped her hand over her mouth, muffling a strangled sound. She fell back, scrambling to the far wall as dark orbs coalesced into the form of a man.
Dare.
“Answer me,” he demanded. “What are you doing here?”
There was an emptiness to his eyes—as though he were soulless. Maybe he was. She didn’t think that anyone with a soul could do what he did.
“I’m on a treasure hunt,” she muttered, needing to hide her terror at seeing him.
“If I were you, I’d start talking. I’m not J.C. When you talk back, I will make sure you never do it again. The truth, now.”
Slowly so that she didn’t draw more attention to herself, she rose, keeping the locket safely hidden in her hand. “I’m lost. What about you?”
He smirked and stepped toward her. Her pulse hammered in her ears as he leaned close, his face inches from hers. Those flat eyes met hers. He sniffed her neck suddenly, making her jump. “I smelled a soul.”
“You’ll have to hunt down the previous tenant. I still need mine.” She hoped he hadn’t heard the tremble in her voice.
Dare seemed to contemplate that for a moment. He stood there and licked his lips, gaze flicking back to her. “Maybe.”
She waited until he turned his back before slipping the locket into her pocket. It was too important to ever let Dare take it away. Not only was she sure it had belonged to a victim, the signature on it resonated within her.
“Do you know where you are?”
Somewhere in the Crypt. “If I knew that, I wouldn’t be here.”
He shot a glance over his shoulder at her. “Not even the Council comes down here. Only those who are about to be killed are brought to these prison cells.”
In other words, it was one big slaughterhouse. It explained why he knew the place.
When she didn’t respond, he turned to face her, reaching over to grip her chin. “You’re scared.”
“Don’t touch me.” She tore her chin out of his grasp, stepping back.
His hand shot out like a vise, wrapping around her wrist and pulling her forward until she fell against him. “Now surely you don’t mean to be rude, Amy. I’ve always been kind to you, supporting you while you went to Testing. I would hate to find out that after all these years, it’s meant nothing.”
He drew a finger down her jaw and she shivered. “J.C.’s going to be wondering where I am. I need to go. I’ve been gone awhile.” It was sort of the truth. She didn’t know how long she’d been wandering these halls.
“I’m going to tell you a little secret. Even if J.C. was looking for you, which he isn’t, he has no control over what I do. I, on the other hand, can do whatever I want.” His eyes glittered with restrained anger. “If the Council tells him to give you back to Rick and me, he will. I won’t be kept out of Testing again. I like to keep an eye on all of the ‘special’ projects.”