Black Aura

by Jaycee Clark

  To hell with this. It wasn’t like she was getting any sleep anyway. She shoved the blanket away, moving slowly as she swung her legs to the side of the bed. Carefully, she pulled the IV from the back of her hand and pressed down as blood welled. Needles were so not her favorite thing.

  At least she still had her clothing on. She’d been told that she’d get a gown when she was admitted upstairs to the hospital. As yet that hadn’t happened. Thankfully. Okay, so her head hurt like someone had hit it with a sledgehammer, but it was like a migraine, right? A really bad, really painful, fucking migraine.

  She could do this.

  On the little table-rolling-cart thing beside her bed, she grabbed a band-aid and slapped it over the IV spot and huffed out a breath.

  So she had a concussion, and her head hurt.

  At the doorway, she noticed everyone seemed busy. Fine by her. She shuffled her way down the hallway to the exit.

  “And where do you think you’re going?” a voice asked from beside her.

  She didn’t have to turn to know it was the agent who had been asking her questions. Salt and peppered hair, trimmed ruthlessly short, and flat dark eyes that had undoubtedly seen too much. “Out of here.”

  The edges of his eyes creased again as he narrowed his gaze. “Don’t like hospitals?”

  “Not my favorite places. No.”

  “You should probably be back in bed.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m going to the police station, where I assume Max is pacing back and forth snarling at everyone. If you don’t like that, too bad. And if you help me, we can get out of here without anyone from the hospital finding me and making me read pages after pages of release forms until my headache worsens to the point I’ll stay just so I won’t have to read another word.”

  One corner of his mouth kicked up and she realized he was actually rather handsome when he smiled. Lines bracketed his mouth. He sighed, glanced back over his shoulder, gave a single nod to another plain-clothed man standing outside Mr. Narton’s door with the other policeman.

  Agents, huh? She wondered if they were with the state or the Feds. Did New Mexico even have an investigation bureau? Or a variation thereof? Then again, he probably was FBI. He looked like what she imagined a federal agent to look like. All business, no humor.

  Which meant he’d be here only because Mr. Narton had been wanted for other crimes in other states. She shivered, remembering the way his hot breath had skimmed her cheek, the way his soulless eyes had been filled with an unholy fire.

  She shivered again.

  “You’re not here with the state guys, are you?” She rubbed her arms as they stepped out into the night.

  He didn’t say anything.

  “Are you?”

  “No,” he answered and led her to a Crown Vic.

  She didn’t say anything else as she slid into the car and waited for him to get into the driver’s side.

  When the heat blew from the heaters, she said, “There are more, aren’t there?”

  For a moment he didn’t answer her. Then he took a deep breath. “We’re investigating.”

  Which was an answer in and of itself without actually answering her.

  “I bet you did good in Hedging Answers 101.”

  She leaned her forehead against the cool window and tried to ignore the pain slamming against her skull until they pulled up in front of the police station. Not waiting for the silent agent, she hurried into the station. She pulled the doors open, wincing at the bright light as she stepped into the warmth.

  A phone rang on the front desk, ricocheting knives in her head. A cuffed man in dirty clothes yelled obscenities at a cop standing next to him.

  She looked past them, searching for…

  “He’s in the conference room,” her hospital rescuer told her.

  She followed him back behind the desk, along the wall and down a hallway. At the end was a large room and there sat Max.

  He sat with his head in his hands, his shoulders slumped. A Styrofoam cup sat in front of him.

  Her heart squeezed. Taking a deep breath, she walked into the room and pulled out the chair beside him. Max didn’t look up. She put her hand on his wrist and he lifted his head. Surprise, shock, relief. The skin on his lean face was stretched taut, his cheekbones standing out.

  He frowned. “What are you doing here?”

  She only arched a brow.

  “You’re supposed to be in the hospital.” His frown deepened. “You should be in the hospital. Why aren’t you in the hospital? You have a damned concussion.”

  She laced her fingers with his. “I walked out.”

  He blinked, then blinked again. “You walked out, just like that?”

  “Yep. Felt I was needed more here.”

  His sigh huffed warmly on her face. “You need another head scan.”

  She smiled. “Nah, hard as rocks, my head.”

  He scoffed and stared at the cup of coffee. Finally, he picked it up and took a sip, wincing.

  “Cop coffee is always terrible.”

  “Spend a lot of time in police stations?”

  She shrugged. “A bit. I just watch television and read. All cop coffee, even fictional, is bad. Really bad. Like mud.”

  He propped his elbow on the table and rested his temple against his fisted hand. “They haven’t found her yet, Lake.” His eyes, those normally lively gray eyes, were filled with pain, turbulent with emotions she couldn’t imagine let alone name.

  “We’ll find her.”

  A muscle bunched in his cheek. “We have to. I can’t…” He bit down and shifted his gaze away from hers.

  Lake squeezed his hand. “We will.”

  His gray eyes met hers again.

  “We will.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I knew, I knew something was wrong, but didn’t act quickly enough. I knew.”

  “Your actions saved me, Max. If not for you, I’d be dead. And since I’m not, we have a clue where Alyssa might or might not be.”

  He frowned.

  She scooted her chair closer. “You followed your instincts and I thank you for that.”

  “It’s going to be dawn soon,” he finally muttered, sliding the almost empty coffee cup back and forth on the table. “Where the hell is she? It’s snowing in the mountains. Is she cold, is she…” He swallowed again. “What if—”

  “Don’t.” She cupped his face. “Do not play the what-if game, you’ll go freaking insane. We. Will. Find. Her.”

  She hoped to hell she was right and it wasn’t too late. She didn’t think it was because Narton had said he didn’t know if Alyssa would be enough. Not that she wasn’t enough. So in Lake’s opinion, Alyssa was still alive. The question was where and why no one had heard from her since late the night before. Where had the man stashed her?

  What-if’s were dangerous. They could play the what-if game until the end of time.

  A movement in the doorway had her turning in her seat.

  “Agent?”

  “Morrow. Sorry, never introduced myself.” He stepped into the room. “Narton had a brother that we’ve heard about, known about, but we can’t find him either.”

  Max tensed beside her. “You think he has her? Or that he’s involved?”

  Morrow didn’t say anything for a minute. Then he took a deep breath. “Initially, no, we didn’t, but at present, we’re not ruling out the possibility that the brother could be or is involved.”

  “And?”

  Morrow opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it because he shut his mouth, thought for a moment before adding, “And, we’re working on all the leads we have.”

  Which meant jack in her opinion.

  “Have you searched the bookstore?” Max asked.

  “Yes, Mr. Gray, the bookstore has been searched. We’re also looking at the buildings beside them.”

  Max nodded once, then again. Standing, he pulled her to her feet. “I’m tired of sitting
around here. We’re going home. Lake will be with me.”

  The agent looked from one to the other. “You should stay at home in case someone calls.”

  Max glanced at his watch. “For the last ten hours no one has been at my house to answer a phone, other than cops. I figure we’re good.”

  He walked out of the room, and since he had hold of her hand, she followed him out. The cold morning air sucked her breath from her lungs.

  When they were in his car, he sat staring out the windshield.

  “You want me to drive?”

  He shook his head and started the car. “I can’t just sit in there doing nothing any more, Lake. I have to get out and do something.”

  “I know. I’ll help you. Where do you want to start?”

  He shifted the car into gear and drove. “The bookstore.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  Alyssa opened her eyes. Gritty as sandpaper. She reached up to rub them and realized she hurt. All over. Car accident? Another car accident. Mom?

  No, Mom was dead.

  God, her head. Someone with a gong and a ten-piece brass band was having a damned party in her skull.

  She moaned and blinked. Where was she? White. All she saw was white. What the hell?

  This time she blinked until everything focused. White walls, white counter, white floor. Glancing over, she saw there was even a white stereo. She was on white sheets.

  Was she dead?

  Then she rolled over and screamed.

  Jay sat there, not two feet away, staring at her, his legs pulled up against his chest. His yellow eyes staring at her, just staring.

  She shivered, chills dancing over her skin.

  What had happened…?

  Images, disjointed and scattered, flitted through her brain. The coffee shop…Mark…a date with Jonathan… Have to get ready.

  The bookshop…Jay and his eyes…Yancey…her book.

  She frowned, trying to remember.

  Then?

  Instead of images, emotions smoked to life. Fear, not just fear, terror slammed into her and her breath froze in her lungs. Desire, rage and…evil.

  Evil…

  That essence she’d experienced before, following her, stalking her, trapping her. It floated in this room, not dark and black. No, but like the scent of smoke lingering long after the fires have gone out, long after the smoke no longer swirled through the air, the scent would remain, noxious. Here it was the same. A thick layer of the remnants of evil slithered over her spine.

  Neither of them moved. She lay on the bed, half rolled over. He sat still, in the same position, just staring at her.

  Carefully, she moved, pulled her legs up and sat straight. “Wh—” She had to clear her throat and swallow past the cotton taste of her mouth. “What am I doing here?”

  He narrowed his eyes as he stared at her. “You have to help us.”

  Us? She didn’t glance around, but tried to feel another person. They were the only ones here.

  “Do you mean your brother?”

  He tilted his head to the side. “He’s sick.”

  Really? Never would have guessed that one.

  “Where am I?”

  “Between.”

  She frowned. “Between what?”

  His fingers started to fidget. “Between.”

  “Between…”

  “The buildings. The worlds. The powers.” He nodded. “The power.”

  Fear hissed up her backbone, but she ignored it. Fear was not going to help her here. Think. Think. Think.

  Glancing around the room, she saw the door past him. The lighting caught the darker outline on the wall just right or she might not have seen it. Even the damned hinges and doorknob were white. What the hell was with the white anyway?

  “Can’t leave. Have to watch you,” he whispered, jerking her attention back to him.

  “But I need to leave, Jay,” she said calmly.

  He shook his head back and forth, back and forth, his fingers tapping against his legs. “Have to watch you.”

  “Why?”

  “He told me to.” Taptaptaptaptap.

  His fingers were distracting. “Who told you to?”

  “Brother. Have to listen. Have to do what he wants.”

  “Why?”

  He blinked and frowned at her, his yellow eyes narrowing. “He’s sick.”

  And they were back to that. “How sick is he?”

  He picked at a spot on his jeans and dropped his eyes to what he was doing. “Told him to go to the doctor. Doctors can help him, but he says no. Hurt in his head, and he needs their power to heal him.”

  Power? “Whose power?”

  He kept picking at the spot.

  “Whose power, Jay?”

  “The special ones. The gifted ones. Like you. The ones who know things, see things, feel things. He needs them. Needs the transfers.”

  Transfers? Gifted powers?

  The evil pressed in, but again she shoved it back. “Transfers?”

  He looked back up at her. “The transfer of power helps him. He should be here. He’ll be back soon. He needs your power to get better.”

  They were all fucking nuts.

  “But I don’t want to give him my power, Jay.”

  He only stared at her. “They never do.”

  Her blood iced and she could only stare into those weird eyes, her body starting to tremble.

  “H-how does he…does he transfer their power?” She swallowed and focused on him, on her question—and suddenly she saw.

  Saw through eyes, so many eyes, so many fears.

  She sucked in air or tried to, could all but feel the hands around her neck, squeezing, squeezing.

  Oh God. She tried to shake the images off, but they mercilessly sliced into her. Screams echoed in her mind.

  Screams. Gasping breaths. Begging. Pleading.

  So many of them all but roaring against her mind. All wanting…air, power…life!

  No! No! No! She wasn’t going to let these monsters win, wasn’t going to let them take from her what was hers and only hers.

  The trembling shook her so that the entire bed trembled but still she stared, saw what had been done, what could be done, what would be done to her if she didn’t get the hell out of here.

  Max slammed to a stop at the mouth of the alley that led to the bookstore. Even as he was depressing the locks on the doors, the Crown Vic pulled to a stop behind them. Agent Morrow climbed out.

  “Can’t have you running out on your own.”

  Max’s fear and anger lashed out at the man. “I don’t give a fuck what you think you can or can’t have. I’m going to find my daughter.”

  He walked to the door, tried it. Damned thing was locked. Not waiting for the agent, he bent down, and picked up a rock. With all the fury roiling inside him, he hurled it against the old glass panes.

  Glass shattered in the oncoming dawn.

  “That was great! Want another rock?” Lake asked him.

  He knew she was trying to distract him, but he ignored her.

  “Sorry,” she said. “Let’s go. I’ve never broken and entered before, at least not that I’ll admit to.”

  Without another word to either her or Agent Morrow, he reached in and unlocked the damned door. He paused and looked at the next building. As with many of these old buildings, they were butted up against each other. However, he knew enough about old Taos to know that those were newer additions. Most had had very narrow alleyways between some of the buildings.

  Instead of entering, he walked on around the block and down the side of the building. He jogged to where the bookstore ended. Sure enough, on this end of the building there was an alleyway between the two buildings, big enough for maybe him and Lake to fit side by side. The wall was midway down the store. Storage?

  Hurrying back around, he calculated where the wall between would be. Once he was back at the entrance, he saw that both Lake and Agent Morrow had already gone inside.

  “W
all’s been added,” he told them.

  “Yes, we know. There is a connecting hallway between this building and the next.”

  He shook his head. “Too big and long for only a hallway.” He realized that the brothers had lived in the building next door. Hallway?

  He studied it. He opened all the doors along the hallway. They were all closets.

  But something tugged at him as he neared the one next to the end on the left. He closed his eyes and thought about where the wall was in the alley, where it ended. Not here, it was further down, much further down. So what was the extra space?

  For the first time in his life, he tried, honestly tried to know with that part of him he’d all but ignored for his forty-two years.

  Something inside him shimmered, flickered and then went out.

  He felt Lake beside him. She didn’t say a word, but he knew she knew he was trying.

  “You can do this…”

  Could he? He looked at her.

  “I believe in you. I believe in me. We’ll find her.”

  Yes, they would.

  Alyssa gasped for breath and shook her head, trying to rid herself of the images. All she could see was face after face, most of them young girls, all of them wanting her help.

  Help.

  She wanted help.

  Dad…

  And then she felt him. “Dad,” she whispered and then started to yell it, her focus centered within herself.

  Hands wrapped around her throat.

  “I can help him. Help my brother,” the voice whispered against her cheek.

  She blinked, ripped away from the image of her father standing with his eyes closed, and stared into the yellow eyes of Jay.

  His hands, those long-fingered hands were so tight, tighter…

  She trembled and tried to fight him off. He pressed her back against the bed. With her hands pushing and shoving against him, she didn’t have time to catch herself.

  He was on top of her.

  No. No. No. She’d be damned if she died like this.

  “We need your power,” he said, his voice hoarse.

  She shook her head and beat her hands against his shoulders, but it did no good.

  Something hit the wall from the other side, thundering through the room, and Jay looked over his shoulder, his attention momentarily turned from her.