Touched (Sense Thieves)

by Corrine Jackson

  “When you’ve gone without sensation for as long as I have, it can make you desperate. Any feeling is better than none. Even pain. Do you see why I’m a danger to you? Why I warned you to keep your walls up? You must have sensed I was different. Remy, the longer I’m near you, the more I feel again. When you’re near me, I stop caring what could happen to you.”

  “How do you know about me when I know nothing about you? Why are we enemies?” There were others like me. Still others like him. The knowledge should have terrified me, but it seemed too big. Too impossible to take in.

  He sighed. “You’re a Healer—your energy . . . It’s like a temporary stimulant for my kind; it makes us feel alive again. Everything about you is designed to give, to sacrifice, but I’m not like you. If I lost control . . . took too much . . . you would die.”

  He could kill me, his enemy. What was he that my power to heal people would make him my enemy?

  In silence, I contemplated all the times I’d felt his energy zinging toward me. After that first meeting on the beach when my ability had surprised him, he’d treated me with caution—like I had a “Danger” sign painted on my forehead. Even the weeks of testing my defenses had lacked menace. His mental prods had been warnings. As if he sought to keep me on my toes with my shield up against possible danger. Against him. And tonight he’d saved my life. Even now, it was his mental wall that protected us both from what he could do to me.

  I knew what danger felt like, what it felt like to be hated. Asher wanted to harness my energy to feel human again, but he would not sacrifice me to do so. His own actions belied him. He couldn’t be my enemy.

  “I don’t believe you.” Still cuddled in his jacket, I inhaled his scent.

  “What do you mean you don’t believe me?”

  It was my turn to laugh. “You heard me.”

  I was certain I was right. Asher’s protecting me. He’ll never hurt me.

  Asher groaned, his expression bleak. “Damn you, Remy, for making me do this.”

  One hand curved to my cheek. At once, his wall dropped, and his energy blasted me. It didn’t build up like mine, unfurling a little at a time. It arrived without warning, overwhelming me until I couldn’t breathe. The icy sludge flowed through my veins, and like before, my heart beat faster in distress and then slowed until I thought it would stop altogether. With my senses wide open and my defenses down, I felt everything. And it hurt.

  Unconsciousness loomed, and the pain worsened, more intense than healing Anna and ten times more intense than healing his burned hand or Brandon’s head. Everything blackened, and a droning sound filled my ears that I realized was the sluggish rhythm of my heart. With my last shred of awareness, I focused on it. I concentrated on each beat, each measured thump in my chest until one corner of my mind cleared.

  The pain didn’t ease, but I struggled to get my barricade in place to block the onslaught of energy still pouring from Asher. He reached inside me with his power, as if he scanned me. Only he wasn’t healing me. This was the danger he’d warned me of. As he stretched his senses through my limbs, his energy grew and expanded, while mine weakened. I understood, then, what he’d tried to tell me.

  He didn’t just hold my energy hostage, he could steal it. He was a thief.

  Rage consumed me. My body grew weaker by the instant as he strengthened, and I couldn’t stop him.

  Even as this realization struck, his energy receded from me. I sensed the tight rein he had on his power as he pulled his hand from me and resurrected his mental barrier. The pain disappeared along with his touch. Control of my limbs returned, and I recoiled into the passenger-side door.

  Asher flipped on the interior light. He twisted to face me with a ferocious hunger glowing in his eyes. He looked dangerous. And full of self-loathing.

  I’d let myself trust him. Stupid, stupid girl.

  Through his teeth, he said, “Do you understand now? Stay the hell away from me.” He glanced away. “I can’t be the one to hurt you.”

  I said nothing. He’d reminded me of a lesson I’d learned early in life, one that I’d forgotten since coming to Blackwell Falls. A string of memories played through my mind. Dean striking Anna in the face, and then knocking a twelve-year-old version of me into the kitchen counter when I tried to stop him. He’d broken my arm that time. And later, Anna’s horrified expression when I healed her by accident for the first time, and her pleading voice when she begged me to keep it a secret. Then, I was a defiant fourteen-year-old, and Dean crushed his cigarette into my arm, furious because he couldn’t make me cry. Last, Asher sent that energy wave barreling at me when I’d decided I could trust him.

  Everyone you care about betrays you in the end.

  Asher put out a hand to touch me. “Remy, please.”

  I wasn’t sure what he asked, and I didn’t wait to find out. Tossing his jacket away, I reached behind me for the handle to open the car door and scrambled out, almost falling to the ground. I looked back once into Asher’s pained expression. Then I ran into the house as fast as I could.

  CHAPTER NINE

  In my room, I crawled under my down comforter, not caring that my wet hair smelled like chlorine, and curled into a ball.

  Tonight had been a good lesson. I’d forgotten what happened when you trusted people. At the pool, I’d allowed my past to sneak up and harm someone I cared about. My mistake had been getting involved. Luckily, the mistake could be corrected.

  My dry eyes burned. Things couldn’t continue on like this. I needed to start cutting the ties that bound me to this place. I’d let Brandon know my swimming lessons were over to keep him safe from me. As for the rest of my new friends . . . I’d find a new place to have lunch.

  Without question, I would avoid Asher. His actions tonight had proved how dangerous he could be. It burned that I’d been stupid enough to develop feelings for him. He knew about my power and could betray me to others at any time. Already, he’d intimated that his family knew about me. Gabe’s interest in me made frightening sense, and I’d bet my new car he had power similar to Asher’s.

  What to do, then? I’d have to be on my guard around the Blackwells until I could leave town. And Asher? I thought, as I focused on healing my injuries. I couldn’t be weak again. I would not be.

  I woke when a hand shook my shoulder, and I scanned the owner of the limb before my eyes opened. Ben.

  “Remy, wake up, hon.”

  He sounded upset. Sitting up, I shoved my hair out of my eyes. Ben turned on my light and eased down next to me on the bed. He couldn’t look at me. Laura hovered in the doorway with her tired eyes pinched with concern. They both wore robes as if they’d come from bed. They hadn’t appeared so distressed since I’d arrived in Blackwell Falls.

  “Hon, it’s your mom. Anna’s in the hospital.”

  I heard the words, but they didn’t penetrate right away.

  “The manager at your apartment came to collect the rent and found her. Apparently, she suffered a head wound in the last week that went untreated. She collapsed today and is in a coma.”

  He squeezed my hand, but I pulled away. I’d known it was a matter of time before Dean hurt her, and I’d left her behind. In a cold voice, I asked “Will she be okay?”

  His expression turned bleak, and I had my answer.

  “How did you find out?”

  “The hospital. Anna listed me as her emergency contact for some reason.”

  That made perfect sense. I was too young, and she would never have chosen Dean. Not when he was the reason she needed help in the first place. If something happened to her, she would have wanted Ben to know for my sake.

  Ben and Laura stared at me, most likely concerned with my unnatural composure. They didn’t know how I needed to lose myself in the details so I wouldn’t crack apart inside. I didn’t try to reassure them. Their worry took a backseat to Anna’s pain.

  “You have to take me to her.”

  Ben stood. “Of course. I’ve already called the airport. You
and I are on the eight a.m. flight out of Portland.”

  They left me alone to dress when I nodded.

  That afternoon, Ben and I took a taxi to the hospital, the reverse of the trip we’d taken a month ago. Such a small amount of time, but my life had changed in a radical way.

  My thoughts focused on Anna. I wondered when Dean had hurt her and if the police knew who to blame. I’d guess not since Anna had been such a good liar when it came to her husband, and I’d aided and abetted her by limiting the number of trips we’d made to the ER.

  We were directed to the Intensive Care Unit when we arrived at the hospital. A doctor told us Anna’s condition hadn’t changed. Untreated, the swelling in her brain had increased, and she’d lapsed into a coma. They didn’t know if she would wake up.

  They let me in Anna’s room first. A nurse cautioned me to stay no longer than the allotted fifteen minutes and left in cushioned shoes. The only sounds in the room came from the machines that monitored Anna’s vital signs.

  I was glad to be alone with her. The reckless action I contemplated would not bear witnesses. If I managed to heal Anna, I could end up in a coma my body couldn’t heal. And for what? For a mother who’d let her husband use me as a punching bag.

  At her bedside, I scrutinized her faded features. Her brown hair had been smoothed from her face, and her fair skin was pale. Deep black half-moons rested under her closed eyes like upside-down eyebrows. Week-old green and yellow bruises colored her jaw.

  Taking a deep breath, I laid a tentative hand on her forearm. I had thirteen minutes left according to the clock on the wall. I let the energy build within before sending it spiraling outward into her. First, I healed the visible bruises on her jaw because I couldn’t stand seeing Dean’s mark on her. Then, I moved on to the head injury, expecting it to be difficult to heal, but it was impossible. Her unconscious mind had become a snarl of black nothing that I couldn’t penetrate. The injury was invisible, and what I couldn’t see, I couldn’t heal. This had never happened before. Panicked, I aimed a wave of energy at her head in a random burst of blue sparks. Exhausted, I held on to the railing of her bed with my free hand to stay upright.

  Her eyes flickered open.

  I stepped back reeling in shock, but she grasped my hand.

  “Remy.” She closed her eyes for a moment and swallowed. I tried to pull free to get a nurse, and she held on tighter.

  “Mom?”

  I scanned her again, to see if my last-ditch effort had wrought a miracle, but her head proved impenetrable. She wasn’t healed.

  Her brown eyes focused on me, and she started crying. “He’ll come after you.”

  She sounded terrified. It didn’t come as a surprise to find Dean meant me harm. On top of an oversized ego, he had a vicious streak that would demand vengeance for hurting him. I held tighter to her hand with both of mine and whispered, “It’s okay, Mom. Let’s concentrate on getting you out of here. Then we’ll worry about Dean.”

  That made her cry harder. I started to pull my hand free again to get someone to help, but the strength of her grip shocked me. “He knows. All my fault. The journal.”

  “Mom, what journal?”

  Lost in her memories, she seemed far away when she continued, “Tells truth. About you.”

  Her cryptic response made no sense. Was she admitting to knowing about me? “What truth?”

  Wrinkles formed as her brow furrowed. “Danger. Find it, baby.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  No response came from the bed. I wondered if the pain had clouded her reason. This was the first I’d heard of her keeping a journal. Her words made no sense.

  She needed a doctor. I forced her hand loose from mine, and her eyes fluttered closed. The instant I freed my hand the machines in the room beeped a shrill warning. Anna’s heart skittered and stopped beating.

  “Mom?” Panic streaked through me as I leaned close to listen for her breathing.

  No answer.

  A group of nurses and doctors rushed into the room. Impersonal hands shoved me out of the way as they set to work, ripping the bedding from my mother and shoving her gown open. Paddles were charged like I’d seen in movies.

  “Mom! Please let me . . .” If I could touch her . . .

  A doctor with brown hair, the one who’d explained my mother’s injuries in the hall, glared at an unknown person behind me. He shouted, “Get her out of here!”

  Someone pushed me from the room. I registered the new set of hands that gripped my shoulders to stop me from running back in. Ben pulled me into his chest and wrapped an arm around me. We stared in joint horror as my mother’s body leaped into the air as the paddles sent volts of electricity into her chest. Then the door closed, cutting off our view.

  It didn’t take long for the doctor who’d shouted to come out of the room. His defeated expression told me what I already knew. She was dead. My mother was dead. She had been weak and cold and broke my heart a thousand times. I shouldn’t have loved her.

  The emotions roiling through me threatened to send me to the floor in a heap of twisted grief and rage and guilt. Like I had done with the nerves in my burned hand, I cauterized my heart to blunt the pain. I couldn’t stop the flood of obscure details pressing themselves into my memories as I watched the doctor walk up to where Ben and I sat in matching plastic chairs.

  “Mr. O’Malley? There wasn’t a lot we could do. The injury was too severe. We knew there was a possibility she wouldn’t regain consciousness.”

  They didn’t know. They had no idea she’d woken up and spoken to me, and I couldn’t tell them because of the questions they would ask. I felt the doctor’s eyes on me and wondered if he’d noticed the absence of bruises on Anna or the similar ones on my jaw, but he only said, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  He nodded at Ben and turned to stride down the hall.

  Ben reached for my elbow, but I stood and called, “Wait!”

  The doctor hesitated and looked back. “Yes?”

  My voice strengthened as I took a step toward him. “My stepfather. Dean Whitfield. Have the police arrested him?”

  He shook his head. “Your mother was alone when she was brought to the hospital.”

  “This happened because of him. He killed her. Dean killed her.” His name tasted like poison in my mouth. “He hurt her so many times, and we came here for help. You should’ve stopped him. Why didn’t you stop him?”

  My voice sounded harsh with unshed tears. The doctor didn’t respond, and I knew he didn’t have an answer. It wasn’t his fault. He’d never met Anna before. I should have protected my mother, but I’d abandoned her.

  The doctor said again, “I’m sorry.” He walked away, and I let him go this time.

  Ben tried to embrace me, but I shoved his arms away. I would shatter if he comforted me. “I can’t, Ben. I won’t cry.”

  My words upset him, but he allowed me to put space between us. “Tell me what you need, Remy,” he said.

  It was an echo of something he’d said when I moved to Blackwell Falls.

  “Help me plan the funeral.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Two days later, we had the funeral in a small Brooklyn cemetery.

  A rare bit of April heat baked the white roses on my mother’s grave, browning the edges of the drooping petals. The pastor said one last prayer, and the ceremony ended. Two men in overalls waited respectfully for the mourners—Ben and me—to leave so they could fill in the grave with the dirt hidden beneath a strip of Astroturf.

  Dean had not come to the funeral, and I had no way of knowing if someone had told him about my mother’s death. It was left to Ben to shake hands with the pastor. Then he shepherded me into our rental car for the ride to my old apartment. We planned to catch the last flight out to Portland, and I sensed his desperate desire to return home. He’d been tense these last few days. He waited for me to break down, and I think he hoped for it.

  He got behind the steering wheel and didn’t s
tart the car right away. After a full minute, he said, “It’s okay to cry, Remy. She was your mother.”

  As if I didn’t know. As if I didn’t feel the grief smothering me. “I’m fine.”

  He seemed ready to argue, and I urged, “Please, let’s go. We have a lot to do before our flight.”

  With a sigh of resignation, he started the car. Apparently, Dean had skipped out of town. Since rent hadn’t been paid on the apartment I’d shared with Dean and Anna, Ben had made arrangements with the manager to pack up the contents for storage.

  We used my key to enter our fourth-floor walk-up apartment. Ben crossed the threshold on my heels and told me to stay near the entry while he checked every room to ensure we were alone. I ignored the tug on my heart at his protectiveness as he paced through the windowless rooms. Eventually, Ben went to meet the movers outside, leaving with a grimace when sirens echoed off the thin walls. Violence wasn’t uncommon in our neighborhood, and Dean hadn’t always been the most dangerous person in the vicinity—just the most dangerous between these walls.

  Alone, I stood in the living room and turned a full circle, taking in my surroundings. The place was worse than I’d remembered with its shoddy, threadbare furnishings and stale air. The cheap wood coffee table featured water stains and black scuff marks from Dean’s boots resting on it. The once white walls were a sickly yellow from the nicotine that swirled in the air from his cigarettes. A flat screen TV, Dean’s prized possession, sat in a cheap entertainment case—bought with my father’s child support checks. Nothing of me or Anna lived in this room, except the faint whisper of blood and tears. It had been Dean’s domain, and there was nothing here that I wanted.

  I moved to the kitchen doorway, expecting to see Anna huddling at the round dining table where she often sat alone, in between waiting on Dean and doing her crossword puzzles. It smelled of leftover Chinese takeout—very few meals had been cooked here. Mostly this room had been Anna’s refuge. One of her crossword puzzle books was lying facedown on the worn plastic tablecloth as if waiting for her to finish it. I picked up the book and hugged it to my chest as I roamed looking for a journal.