The Power

by Cynthia Roberts

  “Good evening, Jack.” she was the first to speak, and her voice floated like magic over him.

  “Lilly.” he returned informally, and her smile lit up the room. Lord, but she was beautiful, Jack thought breathlessly, but she was so, so very out of his league. What would a woman like her want with a lowly, street detective? The smile seemed to slide from her face to be replaced by a look of distraught. What was wrong? Had he said something wrong? No, he hadn’t said a word. “Are you all right?” he asked in concern, and she met his gaze once more, but there was sadness in her eyes now, and Jack couldn’t help but to wonder if he had somehow caused it. Damned if he didn’t feel responsible!

  “I’m fine.” she whispered, but she looked away from him, and Jack felt the loss as if it had been a physical one. His damned heart was beating wildly away from him when he stepped to Lilly’s side and gently took up her hand. She turned to him then, those curious pale blue eyes washing over her pale, slender hand held in his larger, darker one. Jack smoothed his fingers over the softness of hers. Her skin was cool and very soft to the touch, he noted. Nice.

  “Do you come here often?” he asked, and he could have groaned out loud. If that didn’t sound like a line, he didn’t know what did. “I mean, well, my brother is Garret. He owns the place and well, I was just wondering if you had been here before?” Jack fumbled badly. Embarrassed, he looked up to see that Lilly’s bright smile had returned. He sucked in his breath as his heart slammed hard against his ribs as if she had slugged him with that beautiful smile of hers. He smiled at the thought.

  “It’s my first time actually.” Lilly let him know. “I suppose you come here quite often, since your brother owns the place?”

  “Not as often as I would like.” Jack returned. “Garret and I have both been pretty busy lately.” he explained lowly.

  “I know the feeling.” Lilly squeezed his hand, and Jack realized that he was still holding hers. “It’s awfully loud in here.” she mentioned.

  “Yes. A celebrity was spotted in here last weekend. The crowd has accumulated in hopes of seeing him again.” Jack countered.

  “I see.” Lilly returned and her eyes seemed to melt into him. What was she doing here? Was this just a coincidence, them running into each other again?

  “You were waiting for someone?” Jack asked, recalling how she had appeared lost when he spotted her earlier, as if she had been looking for someone.

  “You.” she returned softly, and his heart jumped hard.

  “Me?” Jack swallowed, pointing to himself. Lilly nodded.

  “But you couldn’t have known that I would be here.” The detective in him reasoned.

  “No.” She admitted, and then she smiled. “I asked around, Jack.” she said. “I knew that your brother owned this restaurant.” she confessed. Jack met her gaze. It was warm and down right seductive, though he wasn’t sure that she had meant for it to be. She had come looking for him? They had barely met! Still, his hand closed tighter around hers and before he realized what he was doing, he drew her closer to him. The scent of her was fresh, like flowers, like her namesake: Lilies. Jack drew it in as his fingers locked around hers in a possessive manner. He was tempted to close his eyes and savor the moment. Instead, he turned, leading her out of the noisy restaurant into the cool, night air. Together, they waited silently until the Valet brought his car around. His dark Mustang pulled beneath the awning, and Jack tipped the Valet after he helped Lilly in on her side. He came around and got behind the wheel, looking over at Lilly, who was watching him closely.

  “Where to?” he asked, and she shrugged her slender shoulders.

  “Somewhere quiet?” she put to him, and he turned to the road, and drove out. A few minutes later, they were back at the same coffee shop they had originally met at. Jack helped Lilly from the car and his hand came to the small of her back as he led her within. They chose a booth in the corner overlooking the street and ordered two coffees before either spoke again.

  “I have a confession to make, Lilly.” Jack told her. “After that first night I met you, I looked you up on the Internet. I know who you are, the family that you come from, what you do. So, I guess my question to you is this, what are you doing here with a guy like me?” he met her gaze, and easily held it. Did she look hurt all of a sudden?

  “Money doesn’t make one person better than another, Jack. It should be what’s inside that counts.” she pointed at her chest, and Jack couldn’t help but to glance there in slow appreciation. “Beneath the flesh and the skin, Jack.” Lilly smiled, and Jack nearly flushed at having been caught staring at her breasts. Lilly was smiling when he met her gaze again. Jack chuckled.

  “You were born to wealth?” Jack began, but she cut him off.

  “No. The Internet is a great source of information, but it doesn’t tell you everything, Jack. I’ve known what it is like to be poor, very poor.” she replied softly, and she looked away from him. “My grandmother had money. She left it to me. It is as simple as that.”

  “And you’re an artist?” Jack squeezed her hand for comfort, sensing that she needed it at the moment, and those pale blue eyes came back to him.

  “I try. And you, Jack, what is it that you do?” Her English accent was sweet, Jack thought, making her sound almost musical when she spoke to him.

  “I’m a Detective for the NYPD. Homicide Detective.” he filled in.

  “It sounds like dangerous work.” She didn’t look away from him, and Jack couldn’t look away from those bewitching eyes even if he wanted to, which he didn’t.

  “Not as much as those ridiculous, yet cleverly made television shows would have a person think.” Jack teased, and she smiled, taking his breath away. “Why did you come looking for me?” Jack blurted out suddenly, and her face seemed to pale, if that were possible. She was incredibly fair, alabaster, he thought in appreciation to her beauty. Had he embarrassed her?

  “I wanted to see you again.” She confessed, and his heart slammed against his ribs not once but twice. What could he say to that? She was forward, wasn’t she? She had wanted to see him again? Why? His heart began to beat faster, stronger. “I’ve made you feel uncomfortable.” Lilly tried to pull her hand free of his. Jack pulled back, and slowly grabbed her other hand as well.

  “No.” he said, but then he laughed. “Well, perhaps a little. I guess I’m just not used to women of your class seeking a guy like me out.”

  “And the fact that I have money makes you uncomfortable as well.” Lilly accused, and she succeeded in pulling her hands free of his. She stood to her tall height, and Jack came up right after her, shoving his hands into his pockets nervously. He met and held her gaze and swallowed the heavy emotions that were beginning to surface in his throat. What was she doing to him? Heat seemed to swell in and around him the longer that they stood there staring at each other.

  “I should go.” Lilly whispered at last, and he knew that he should let her do so, but when she turned to leave him, his fingers brushed her bare arm, and he pulled her back.

  “Stay a while?” he found himself asking, and again his hand slid down the coolness of her soft skin to tangle his fingers with hers. He gave a slight tug, and she gave a relenting nod, but then his cell phone rang and he had to excuse himself to answer the call from Dr. Harold. Jack walked to the back of the restaurant, and answered the call but his gaze kept returning to the beautiful woman sitting at his table. She was writing something on a napkin, he realized and he was curious to what.

  “Jack? It’s Dr. Harold. Nicole.” Dr. Harold said in an urgent voice when he answered the call. Jack turned away from Lilly, giving his attention to the Doctor. Why was she calling him anyway? Had she discovered something else about the newest victim? The woman had been identified as Rita Gallenger. She had been a prostitute that had had three previous arrests for solicitation. Still, she had not deserved to die in the brutal, inhumane way she had, Jack thought angrily. Rita’s body was due to be given over to her family in the morning. Dr. Har
old’s examinations should have already been complete. In fact, she had already given him her report, as insane and impossible as that report had been. Nicole Harold was indeed a whack-job, Jack thought impatiently, and he turned back to the table just in time to see that Lilly was no longer there.

  “What do you need, Dr. Harold?” Jack asked in agitation as he looked toward the glass door leading outside just in time to see Lilly exit through it. “Damn it.” He cursed, and he hurried back to the table to find her note. It was written in beautiful handwriting on a white, coffee house napkin.

  “Jack, if you ever get over your phobia give me a call.” It read. It was signed, “Lilly” and she had left a local phone number. Jack frowned at his loss. He carefully folded the napkin, and put it in his coat pocket as he halfway listened to Dr. Harold going on and on about the undead and other such nonsense.

  “Don’t you see, Jack. She has risen.” Nicole said excitedly.

  “What? Risen? What the hell are you talking about?” Jack tossed a ten down on the table and headed out the front door. He looked both ways, but saw no sign of Lillian Saint Rose. She was gone and because he had reacted like an idiot to the fact that she came from money! Lillian Saint Rose was a beautiful woman and she seemed to be interested in him. He should count himself lucky and forget about his stupid hang-ups where money was concerned, he scolded himself as he remembered her beautiful smile. He could certainly do worse! Idiot!

  “Haven’t you been listening to me, Jack?” Nicole demanded hotly over the phone and Jack nearly groaned out loud. He thought to confess that no, he hadn’t been listening at all, and that yes, she was a mad woman with insane thoughts and theories, but instead, he told her to tell him again why she had called.

  “The body is gone, Jack. It’s as if Rita Gallenger got up and walked out of here. One minute she was there and the next she was gone.” Nicole told him, her voice sounding all spooky like some bad B movie.

  “Gone?” Jack repeated in disbelief. “Where were you?”

  “I don’t sit in the locker and guard them, Jack.” Nicole groaned defensively. “I didn’t know she would rise.”

  “Rise!” Jack scoffed. “It’s obvious the body has been stolen. Now, the question is, who took it and why?” he rubbed his chin, deep in thought as he hurried to his car and climbed behind the wheel. He would go to the morgue and check the matter out, he decided. The killer had slipped up this time. There was a security camera at the morgue aimed right at the front door. There was a good chance, Jack thought, as he sped away, that the killer had just gotten himself on tape!

  Chapter six

  “You killed him, Bobby!” The kid yelled in shocked disbelief. “You weren’t supposed to kill him.” The boy was no more than fifteen, a black youth growing up in the wrong neighborhood where gangs prevailed, and the weak either moved away or died.

  Bobby, an older, black male with the face of a movie star, that at the moment was covered in splatters of deep, red blood flashed a white toothed smile over at the younger boy.

  “That’s what we came here for, Tyrone.” Bobby grinned, as he aggressively shoved a bloody, ten inch, metal pipe from one big, brown hand to the other. “That’s how you get into Hell’s Disciples.”

  “But you killed him.” Tyrone was shaking and badly. There was blood on his hands, blood he had helped to spill, but he hadn’t meant to kill anyone. “I thought we were just supposed to beat him up a little. I ain’t never killed nobody before.” Tyrone choked back a sob. “My mama. Oh God, my mama! This is gonna break her heart.” Tears slid down his light brown cheeks to spill over his full, fleshy lips and dribble down his chin.

  “Shut up, boy! Your mama ain’t got to know nothing.” Bobby raised the pipe above his head in a threatening manner as if he were about to come after the younger, smaller boy now. “And you better not go shooting your mouth off to no one neither!” Bobby marched forward, snatching the younger male up by the collar of his striped t-shirt. “You got me?” he put his face right in Tyrone’s, and all Tyrone could do was nod his head and cry, cry because he had helped to kill an innocent kid, cry because he was going to go to jail, and because his mama was going to cry, and hard, when he did. His fingerprints had to be everywhere, Tyrone thought on a panic. Tyrone’s wide, brown gaze fell to the skinny boy that lay face down in a puddle of his own blood. Small, black eyes were wide open as if in shock. The face was a bloody, bumpy mess from where Bobby had slung the pipe against the boy’s face and head again and again. Tyrone had begged Bobby to stop, shouting that he was taking things too far. He had even grabbed Bobby by the arm and had finally managed to pull him back, but it had been too late, and now their rival, or so Bobby had called the boy, was dead, beaten to death by his hands and by Bobby’s hands. The tears in Tyrone’s eyes swelled bigger and bigger. A sob escaped his throat.

  “I’m a murderer.” he sobbed out in shock because of what he had done, and Bobby promptly slapped him hard across the face. It stung, causing his head to snap back, but it was nothing compared to the pain and fear bubbling up inside of him.

  “You’re an idiot!” Bobby snapped, and he tossed Tyrone’s long, wiry body to the ground. Tyrone landed with a thud on his backside. Bobby was mad now, real mad, and he had the pipe held in his big fist still. He was going to kill him now too, Tyrone thought in alarm, but in sudden calm, he accepted his fate. It would be better if Bobby killed him now, then he wouldn’t have to go to prison. He wouldn’t have to face his Mama either, and he wouldn’t have to live with the fact that he had helped to murder some boy!

  Tyrone threw up his arms to block the first blow of the metal pipe as Bobby slung downwards at him, but the blow never came. His heart seemed to have come to a halt. After a few seconds of waiting, Tyrone cracked open one eye and looked. Nothing, but blackness and shadows, and then he heard the sound of his own heartbeat drumming away in his ears. Terror streaked through him as he stared into the blackness where Bobby had been standing only a seconds before. Where had Bobby gone? His heart beating away from him, Tyrone opened the other eye and lowered his arms just as he heard a muffled scream of agony. In the distance, he could see something moving, thrashing about. Scared out of his wits, Tyrone managed to make it to his feet. First, he thought of turning tail and running home, but when the muffled scream came again, followed by a loud thumping noise, Tyrone found himself creeping toward the origin of the sounds. As he neared the large, thrashing object he could make out that it was a pair of booted feet kicking out into thin air and a pair of dark brown hands reaching out as if to grab him. Tyrone almost screamed, but then he realized the hands weren’t reaching for him; they were clawing at the back of a tall, slender figure cloaked in black. The figure was holding the man off the ground with such ease that Tyrone rubbed his eyes in shocked disbelief and looked again. Then suddenly the hands shot out again as if to grab him, but fell slack and so did the feet. Tyrone crept closer with his heart large in his throat. He could make out the long, pale blonde hair lifting gently in the wind, and the long, slender torso of a finely cut woman just before the woman pivoted, and with strength that could not be human, tossed the dead body of Bobby Wilshire through the air. Tyrone screamed out as the body hit him full on in the chest and they both went down. Terror-struck, afraid that the creature would come after him next, Tyrone fought to free himself from the heavy, offending body of his now dead friend.

  Scratching, clawing noises filled the air, and just as Tyrone managed to push the body off of him, he looked up to see the creature scaling the stone wall before him as if it were nothing, as if it had scaled that wall a thousand times before, and knew every foot and hand hold. He watched in panicked horror as it took one last leap when it neared the top of the five story building, landed on its feet on the ledge with the grace of a cat, and then disappeared into the night. Tyrone’s heart slammed hard against his ribs, feeling as if it would burst through the bones, as if it would shatter those bones to escape the fear building inside of him.

  �
�Shit.” Tyrone cursed as he jumped to his feet, feeling the shakes come over him until his knees felt like they were going to buckle. What the hell had just happened, he asked himself? He didn’t want to wait around to find out, he thought wildly, so he turned and he ran, forgetting the dead boy, and even his now dead friend. Screw this! He was out of there, and he wasn’t looking back. Hell no! He sure wasn’t going to tell nobody what he had seen there tonight either. They would think he was insane for sure! And so he ran, ran as if the creature had turned back, as if it were coming after him now.

  Detective Tony Bordello lounged at a double sided, iron desk across from Detective Jack Stone at the police department. The guy was looking pretty bored, Jack thought. It was getting late in the day and Jack, not used to working with a partner, wasn’t sure if he was supposed to take the lead and send the guy home, or what? As it was, Jack was getting tired of looking at the guy. Bordello was always there it seemed. Jack could barely book time to take a leak to escape him. This isn’t how I work, Jack thought in frustration. I work alone. I’m better that way, he thought as his light amber eyes washed over Bordello’s thick form across from him. Jack frowned. He hated this, hated being saddled with a partner, hated having to drag some unfamiliar, unwanted man along with him everywhere he went! Tapping a pen on his computer keyboard, Jack mulled over what little information they had gathered on the three slayings that had occurred within the city in the last month. None of the evidence taken from the crime scenes made any sense, and the only explanation Jack could come up with at the moment was the same explanation that the crazed city was saying behind closed hands: serial killer.