by Jaycee Clark
“Lots,” she said with brutal honesty. “But in your case, you’ve helped her. You know what she is, or you sensed it. You never tried to change her, and that is why she’s thriving here.”
He cocked a brow.
“She is. Even you said she’s laughing, smiling. Some part of her has always known what she is, that she’s different, and through it all, she’s held on to that. That’s amazing in and of itself. This is the first time in her life she’s been able to accept who she is without fear, to explore and know she’ll still be loved, still have a safe haven unconditionally.”
He stared at her for a long moment, his expression more hopeful.
“Believe it. I do, and more importantly, Alyssa does.”
She opened the door and he stood up. “Twenty minutes?”
She scoffed. “Darling, I may be beautiful, but dammit, I do have to work at it. Make it half an hour.”
Like she could get in a shower and be ready that quickly. Actually, if she didn’t wash her hair, she could do it. She’d wear the jeans with the black turtleneck. Amethyst pendant and earrings too.
Her boot heels clicked as she hurried down the steps and into the night. Damn, but it was cold. She took a deep breath. Snow was in the air. Probably snowing up in the mountains.
Coffee, she needed some coffee. She hurried across the street then stepped into the coffee shop, which was bustling tonight. Glancing around, she half expected to see Alyssa. She wasn’t here, but Mark stood talking to a guy at the bar.
She checked her watch and saw that half an hour had passed since Alyssa’s voice had floated through the loft warning them that she’d be home in—what had it been? Ten? No—fifteen minutes. Well, maybe she’d been gone longer than she’d thought.
No…
Fear crept in. Fear of what, exactly? That she should fear for or of something? Someone?
She tried to read what she was feeling but all she could sense was Alyssa.
“Mark?” she said, standing to the side of a young man wearing glasses.
“Hey, Lake.” Mark shot the guy a tight smile. “What can I get for you?”
“Coffee. Whatever’s on tap, as long as it’s not decaf. There is just not a single reason for decaf.”
He chuckled. “I know your opinion on the merits of caffeine.”
The guy beside her turned. “I have to agree with you. And decaf espresso? I mean, who the hell came up with that?”
She smiled and looked back at Mark. “Have you seen Alyssa?”
The man beside her tensed. Blinking, she turned to him and stared, read him. His aura pulsed. Anxious, hopeful, and something else…
“Alyssa? From across the street?” he asked.
She only raised a brow.
“I’m Jonathan Murbanks.”
The photos. She’d seen them in the studio, different ones in black frames, some noted to have no frames, just stretched over canvas. “Artist.”
He smiled. “If you wait here for about twenty minutes, Alyssa will probably be here.”
Now she gave him her full attention. Ah, the date. She vaguely wondered what Max would say when he found out about this. Was this considered mixing business with pleasure?
Then it hit her. The girl had wanted to get ready for her date, and knowing Alyssa, she wouldn’t have been late. Lake checked her cell phone to see if there were any messages, but there weren’t. Not a single one.
Huh.
Maybe Alyssa didn’t need girl advice. Just as well, what would she give her after all? And the advice she could give her, she wouldn’t. Max would not approve. Then again, every girl needed a safe-sex speech, but she figured with Alyssa, the girl had already had that one.
So where was she?
Upstairs? She studied Murbanks again and realized he was trying to read her as well. Shielding did have its uses.
She shut the eager young man out and tried to focus on Alyssa but got nothing.
Don’t panic. No need to panic.
But her hands were shaking.
“What’s wrong?” Murbanks asked.
She just looked at him, trying to get a read on Alyssa, but…
“You’re scared,” he stated.
“Mark, where’s Alyssa?”
Mark looked from one to the other and finally said, “I don’t know. I saw her earlier, but I haven’t seen her in a while.” He looked down the street. “She pissed Thad off and headed down that way.”
“Did she say where she was going?”
He shook his head. “No, what’s wrong?”
She started to tell him she was worried about Alyssa but decided against it. “Nothing, I’m sure. Maybe she’s upstairs waiting for me.”
Mark’s expression didn’t change as he stared at her. “Why?”
Deciding not to worry them all or start a panic attack, she said, “I’m sure it’s nothing. I just thought we were getting ready together. For our dates,” she added with a glance at the artist. “But I guess I misunderstood.”
“Did you check her house?” Mark asked.
She nodded. “I just came from there. I’ll head upstairs and see what the deal is.”
Fear rippled along her spine as she hurried through the shop to the back door. There she took the stairs two at a time up to her apartment. Pulling the key from her pocket, she shoved it home.
Her phone rang and she paused to answer it. Maybe it was Alyssa.
“Hello?”
“Hi,” Max’s voice floated over the phone. “Listen, I was just curious, will it really take you half an hour to get ready? You look fine the way you are.” There was something in his voice.
“Why?”
For a moment he said nothing, then, “I don’t know. Just a weird feeling I have in the pit of my stomach.”
Shit. “Have you seen Alyssa?”
Again the silence. “No, I was wondering where she was. Maybe she met up with her date early?”
“No. I just met him downstairs in the coffee shop. She’s not there. Mark hasn’t seen her either.”
Fear was a sly beast, shifting this way and that so she couldn’t tell if she could read her feelings correctly or not.
“Maybe she’ll show up in the next few minutes.” He took a deep breath. “Why don’t you come back over here and wait for her with me, then when we both see she’s okay, we’ll go eat.”
He was worried too.
She stepped through the door, her apartment dark except from the streetlights.
“Let me just change my shirt and then I’ll be right back over there.”
“No.” Then he huffed. “Sorry, sorry. Okay, but hurry, something’s off.”
She couldn’t agree more. “I’ll be there in less than five minutes.”
Lake hung up and reached in to turn on the light.
Darkness slithered through the air, a second’s warning before evil struck.
She ducked but she wasn’t quite quick enough. Pain exploded in her skull, radiating down her body. Spots danced before her eyes and the world tilted, the floor rushing up to meet her. Blood roared in her ears, but still she heard him. “No you won’t.”
Keep moving. Keep moving. Have to keep moving.
“Now where do you think you’re going? You have to come with me, Lake. I have something, or rather someone, who might interest you,” he said softly.
Who the hell was he? He was vaguely familiar but she couldn’t place him, couldn’t…
Max…
“I wanted to take you back to share the whole process with her,” the voice hissed, closer.
She tried to get to her feet, but the room still spun and twirled. Bile rose up hot and thick in the back of her throat. Slipping, she fell back again, hoping she wouldn’t be sick.
Move! Move! Move!
His steps weren’t hurried. Instead, he just stood there staring at her.
Short. He’s too damned short. Rather round, but the power behind the blow he’d dealt her was very, very strong. His stature was not given to f
at, it was all solid muscle.
The edges of her vision blurred and she blinked. She touched the back of her neck, not surprised to feel the stickiness of blood.
“You’re very powerful, did you know that?” he whispered.
His whisper reminded her of slithering snakes, hissing, whispering, quiet and threatening.
“Wh-why are you here?”
He just looked at her and she saw his face morph into two, then three before slowly melding back to one.
“Because I need you. Alyssa might not be enough.” He walked closer, standing over her.
Alyssa? What the hell did this rat bastard know about Alyssa. “Wh-where is she?” She blinked and tried to get up, slipping.
He tsked. “You’ll only hurt yourself.”
She looked up at him. His eyes were a strange color. Yellow-green hazel, but not in a pleasant way. They were cold eyes. Eyes that saw too much.
Lake tried to take a deep breath, tried to focus and steady herself. His scent engulfed her. Incense and…medicine. She studied him but couldn’t read or see his aura.
No aura?
Chills danced over her spine. Alyssa… Oh my God. His words uttered just moments before terrified her. “Alyssa might not be enough.”
He had no aura.
No aura? No aura. No soul.
She focused harder, felt the air shift, the ice of evil, the darkness that waited just there at the edges. The same evil she’d sensed several nights ago on the street when she’d run into Alyssa. Evil. Black aura. No soul.
Her breath froze in her lungs and she tried again to focus on him, but it was of little use. Have to get up. Move. Move. Move.
“Wh-what do you want?”
No use. Her head swam and all she could see were those eyes.
Eyes that sucked her in.
Deeper… Deeper…
“I’ve already said. I want you. What you can give me.”
“What is that?” she asked.
He leaned down closer and she sensed decay, just as the snakes hissed at the edge of her perception.
“Your power,” he whispered, his breath hot and pungent.
Max paced the studio.
Something was wrong. He could feel it. Anxiety skittered over his nerves. He hadn’t been completely honest with Lake. Not that he had intended to lie to her, but he’d never told anyone about his…knowing. He’d mentioned it to her, yes. His grandmother had known of his ability to sense things. He’d always just called it instinct. His ex-wife had known and yet hadn’t. Things beyond what she could actually see and feel had frightened her.
Thus the end of their marriage in more ways than one. She’d called him a freak and he hadn’t defended himself. Hadn’t stayed around to defend his kids. The daughter who almost died and the son who had. Had Timothy been gifted as well? Would he have even mentioned it if he was? Or was he like his father and hid his abilities for fear of ridicule? At least Alyssa had never done that. Never once had she really tried to hide who she was. Granted, she’d shoved herself aside to try to fit into the mold her mother had thought was right and proper, but it hadn’t worked.
Max rubbed a hand over his face. Hell, his daughter had the scars on her wrists to prove it hadn’t worked. Her attempted suicide several years earlier had warned him but the court had ruled in favor of his ex. What court wouldn’t? She had to be the sane one. Her grandmother hadn’t claimed to be a witch. Her family hadn’t had several members claim to have special abilities.
The court shrinks had ripped his family apart and he’d stood back and let them, his own head filling with self-doubt.
But now?
He paced and worried, glancing at the clock as fear wrapped tight bands around his chest.
How long did it take to change a shirt and get over here? Lake had known something was up. He could tell the way her voice held no emotion, as if she was trying to shield him from something. From what?
He pressed the message again, Alyssa’s voice filling the air.
“Dad, it’s me, I just wanted you to know I’m going to be home in about fifteen minutes after I get the Grimm Brothers to order this book I want.” She took a deep breath, pausing before continuing, “I’ve got to get ready.” He heard the smile in her voice. “I’ve got a date.”
A date…
With whom? She might be nineteen, but he needed to know she was all right. That she was okay because he had the distinct impression that she was anything but.
Hell.
It was like the time before. Before when he’d ignored it and then the call had come. The call telling him that his daughter was in the hospital from a car accident.
If he’d paid attention, would things be different?
Did it even matter? Probably not. What was important was the here and now. Right now what he needed was…
Fear and darkness slammed into him.
He staggered and grabbed the door frame of the hallway. What the hell was that?
Panic skittered over his skin.
Lake?
Alyssa?
Dad…
Max…
Lake.
He shook his head, the strange feeling slowly slipping away. He picked up the phone and dialed Lake’s number. Expecting her to answer, anger flared through him when her voice mail picked up.
Maybe it was just the connection.
He hit redial, but again it went to voice mail.
What had she said? She’d be right over here. Okay, so it hadn’t been exactly five minutes yet. He was starting to act like a jealous idiot, but he couldn’t help it.
He paced for several more minutes. To hell with this.
Grabbing his jacket, he paused at the door where the white board hung. He scrawled a note to Alyssa: CALL me ASAP~Dad.
Hurrying from the loft, he pulled on his jacket and ran across the street, barely missing an oncoming car and almost taking out a pair of lovers wrapped up in each other near the entrance of the coffee shop.
“Damned tourists,” he muttered.
He strode into the coffee shop. Mark and Jonathan sat at the bar, looking up as he neared.
“What’s wrong?” Mark asked.
He glanced from one to the other. “Have either of you seen Alyssa?”
“Is something wrong with her?” Jonathan asked.
Max only shook his head and focused on Mark.
“I just told Lake not ten minutes ago that she was here and then she left.”
The panic gripped inside, strangling him.
“We’re sorry to inform you that your son did not survive the crash that also claimed your ex-wife… Your daughter is in critical condition in our surgical intensive care unit… touch and go through the night…”
From before or now? What the hell was happening? He didn’t have a clue, but he knew he had to find out—and he had to find out fast.
“Lake still upstairs?”
Mark jerked his head to the back. “Yes.”
He turned to go and then said over his shoulder, “If Alyssa comes in, keep her here.”
“Why?”
“Just do it.” He wasn’t going to explain.
He hurried out into the cold bite of wind.
Something crashed upstairs and he cursed, all but flying up the stairs. “Lake!”
The door was locked.
He pounded on it
“Ma—” Lake’s scream cut off.
He rammed his shoulder against the door, but the damned thing held.
“Lake! Lake!”
This time, the wood shifted, giving beneath him. Cursing, Max pulled back and kicked the edge near the handle. The door swung inward.
For a moment he didn’t see her, didn’t see them. A crash in the kitchen had him whirling in that direction. Lake stood weaving, holding a pan. A man lay moaning at her feet.
“Bastard!” She lifted the pan to hit him again, and Max dashed forward to grab her arm. She tried to jerk it away.
Blood at the base of her neck caught
his attention.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
She jerked her arm away, but he wrestled the pan away from her. She was hurt. Damn it. Rage hazed his vision.
She swayed and he caught her. He glanced down at a man he’d known for years. Mr. Yancey Narton.
“What?”
“Get the hell away from me. Bastard,” she muttered.
He assumed she was talking about the man on the ground. “You’ve all but bashed his skull in with Calphalon. I think he’s down.”
She looked at him with glazed eyes and said, “Alyssa… He knows…”
She passed out in his arms.
Cursing, he looked at her attacker, then back at her. His rage roared into fury. Yancey stared up at the ceiling not blinking. From here Max could see he was still breathing. Carefully, he laid Lake on the floor and grabbed the cordless phone on the floor beside Yancey.
“Where’s my daughter?”
He dialed nine-one-one.
The son of a bitch only stared at the ceiling.
14
Where was she?
No one knew where Alyssa was. He paced the police station. Noises filtered through, voices in the background, ringing phone, someone cursing as something dropped. Max ignored it all.
Lake had been taken to the emergency room, even though she didn’t think she needed to go. Not go? He hadn’t taken no for an answer, and thankfully neither had the EMS personnel. Hard-headed woman—thank God. If her skull hadn’t been as thick as it was, she might have a hell of a lot worse than a concussion.
He’d since learned that the man they all knew as Yancey Narton, owner of The Book Emporium & More, was an alias. He was wanted in three states as a person of interest in the disappearance and murder of several young women and men.
“Did your daughter ever mention Mr. Narton bothering her?” someone asked. There were three detectives and the chief of police in the station, along with county sheriff personnel. He vaguely remembered someone saying how the state boys would probably be coming in and an argument about the FBI.
Max didn’t give a shit who all was involved. He just wanted his daughter found. He should have paid closer attention, known what all was going on, who she spent her time with. But he’d wanted to give her space. He hadn’t wanted to seem like he was smothering, or being too controlling. She’d had enough of that in her life. More than enough. He’d wanted to give her freedom.