The Vessels

by Anna Elias

  Two vagrants stopped to rummage for food, and Tal stowed the knife. She hunkered back into the shadows, but the homeless men either didn’t notice her or didn’t care. They gave up on the foul pickings and shuffled off. Wrecked lives were the norm around here.

  Tal lifted the knife from her pocket and pressed the release. The blade snapped into place once more, steel glinting in the streetlight. Her hand shook as she touched it to her wrist. A line of crimson formed along the keen edge, and she yanked it back.

  During her years on the force, she’d heard officers make fun of suicide victims, finding it easier to demean than to try to understand the torment behind their choice. She’d never joked about it, but neither had she understood it. Until now.

  It was one thing to die in the line of duty, as she had tried to do over and over after losing Darden, but taking your own life took guts. Making the choice to commit such a devastating act did not come from cowardice or weakness, but from a pit of agony so dark that no light could get in and no route seemed to lead out. Tal trembled at the knife in her hand and the slight wound it had already made, but even more at the memory of her eyes in the pawnshop reflection. That woman had pleaded for another chance and a different choice.

  Anguish and isolation blanketed again. Tal had lost her parents, her family, her partner, and her career. Fellow officers despised her and no one was left to care if she lived or died. And most importantly, her passion for police work—the feeling it was her calling, her purpose, her ministry to help those in need—had been trampled and tossed aside.

  Tal sat up, steeled her nerve and pressed the blade to her skin. This time, she sliced. Warm blood gushed down one wrist while she cut the other. She closed the knife and dropped it into her boot so no one else would find it or use it to harm. Taking one life was enough.

  A police car screamed by, sirens wailing. Tears flowed as Tal straightened her legs and sat back against the cold brick wall. Her heartbeat slowed and her veins, once charged with squeezing blood throughout her body, now spilled it onto the ground.

  Tal drifted in and out, woozy. Footsteps drew close, and a man knelt at her feet. He looked a little like the pawnshop owner, but his gentle voice calmed and assured. He wrapped her wrists with cloth and lifted her into his arms. She turned to see his face, but the world went white, and her mind floated free.

  SAM

  Sam studied the woman on the clinic table, bright red blood dotting the fresh bandages around each wrist. “Can you save her?”

  “She needs a hospital.” Eva shifted in the chair, adjusting the rubber tube that dispensed blood directly from the IV in her elevated arm to the one she’d inserted in the woman’s. Sam eyed the gravity-driven rig with concern.

  “On the upside of Hurricane Katrina, this dog learned a few new tricks. And the need to carry a few more supplies.”

  “Your blood matched?”

  “Couldn’t do this otherwise, love.”

  Hardly a coincidence, Sam thought, opening the slim wallet they’d found in the woman’s pocket. He took out a driver’s license. “Tallulah Davis. Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.”

  “Who has a name like Tallulah?”

  “Tal,” the woman whispered.

  Sam jerked up, surprised to see her awake. “Welcome back,” he said, his voice soft and gentle. “We’ll get you to a hospital as soon as ...”

  “No,” Tal groaned. She scratched at the bandage on one wrist. “Let me go.”

  Sam tucked her arms under the blanket and pulled it to her chin. “Shh. Rest. We’ll talk later.”

  Tal’s eyes closed. Her head fell back against the pillow.

  “How is she?” Liam stood in the doorway, gripping a mop and bucket.

  “She’ll be fine,” Sam said. “Thanks for asking.”

  Eva stiffened. “She needs a hospital.”

  Liam’s eyes sparked gold and green, like the bobcat.

  You will know.

  The hairs on Sam’s arms shot up. Liam’s lips hadn’t moved, but it had been his voice uttering Chief Black’s words. Sam glanced at Tal. The walls seemed to shift around her. When he looked back, Liam was gone.

  “Sam?”

  Sam stared at the empty doorway. Why had Diego hired this guy? Who was he really?

  “Are you okay?”

  The room cooled again and the hair on his arms settled into place.

  “Sam.”

  He whipped around. “Hmm? What?”

  “Is everything all right?” Eva’s voice bristled with concern.

  He blinked. “Yes. Fine. Why?”

  She nodded to the doorway. “That man gives me the bloody willies as well.”

  Sam took a breath and removed a second card from Tal’s wallet. “Fraternal Order of Police. There’s a precinct and badge number.”

  “She’s a police officer?”

  “Detective.”

  “Perhaps we should call.”

  See them with your heart. Listen with your soul. Whatever tragedy had led this woman to think suicide was her only option might also mean she possessed the understanding and compassion needed to become a Vessel. Then again, maybe not. Sam’s head spun trying to understand the Vessels, the Program, Chief Black, Liam, the lake, the shelter, all of it.

  “Humans at their most broken,” he mumbled.

  “What’s that?”

  “Nothing.” He sensed another puzzle piece shift into place. “Can you treat her? Here?”

  “She needs a hospital, Sam.” Eva tightened. “She needs blood and tests and counseling to help with—”

  “No more,” Tal moaned. “Please.” She struggled to open her eyes.

  “No more of what, love?”

  Tal passed out again. Sam checked her pulse. “Can you? Treat her?”

  Eva started to protest, but his willful look prevented it. She sighed and retrieved a number in her cell. “Call them,” she instructed, handing him the phone. “Ask for Dr. Ross Duncan and tell him to send ten packs of type O-negative right away.”

  “And when he asks what they’re for?”

  She leaned back and closed her eyes. “Say they’re for me. That will get us through for a while. Until we figure out what happens next.” She squeezed her fingers around a tiny ball, pumping more blood through her IV to feed Tal’s thirsty vein.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  AVANI

  Avani Nair teetered on high heels, struggling to guide her best friend, Sonny, along a deserted street in downtown Reno. He’d drunk four gin and tonics with dinner to help celebrate her belated birthday, and his heavy muscles made him unwieldy and hard to handle. Not to mention he was singing a random pop tune at the top of his lungs.

  They turned a corner near a tattoo parlor, a psychic reader, and stores advertising slot machines. Avani winced against the sharp smell of urine, and her stomach knotted at the dark and empty streets. She tugged her long hair aside to adjust Sonny’s arm on her shoulder. “This doesn’t feel right,” she told him. He kept singing. “Sonny!”

  He stopped.

  “I think we’re lost.”

  He cracked up. “Wrong turn at Albuquerque?”

  “Sonny. I’m serious. Where’s your phone?”

  “No worries, ‘Muna.’” He chuckled, tripping over his feet. “We’re not far.”

  Avani’s throat tightened. Her mother, Lani, had given her that nickname when she’d been young. It was also the last word Lani had spoken before she died five weeks ago, after an emergency trip to the hospital on Avani’s eighteenth birthday.

  “What does that mean, anyway?” Sonny slurred. “Moon Angel? Goddess among us?” He turned toward her and laughed, his breath a curtain of gin. “You are, you know.”

  He tried to kiss her, but Avani turned and steered them on. She cut a look at some homeless men and women sleeping under an overpass.

  She and her mother had relocated from Texas to California shortly after Avani had turned nine, fleeing the memories of her father’s murder. They had found work, and a n
ew life, at a dude ranch owned by Sonny’s parents. Sonny, twelve at the time, had shared an equal love of horses, and he and Avani had become best friends. As years passed, though, Sonny had fallen in love with Avani and would not stop trying to turn their friendship into something more.

  “Muna was my mother’s pet name for me,” Avani told him. “It’s Navajo for ‘overflowing spring.’”

  “Pretty.” He tried to hug her but tripped.

  She righted him and drew back. “Yes. And no.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “The positive side means giving and generous.”

  “That’s you.”

  “But the negative side means tries too hard. Overflows with worry and work.”

  “Yup. That’s you, too.”

  “Mom knew I needed balance between the two.”

  Sonny burst into more drunken song. “Muna, the moon of my world, my dark, and my light, my day and my night ...”

  “Sonny. Stop.” She bopped him to silence, glancing at the people watching them from the warmth of a barrel fire. The flames took her back to one night by a campfire, not long after her mother’s funeral. Feeling alone and vulnerable, Avani had asked Sonny to ride out to their favorite camping spot in the hills. They had roasted marshmallows under starlight and shared stories about Lani. Then something had sparked between them. His friendship and kindness, his sculpted body and good looks had overwhelmed, and they’d kissed for the first time. He’d pulled her close, and desire had consumed them both. Her body had craved his, and she’d come close to giving in, but something had made her stop. She’d apologized and pulled away, then ridden home alone to give them time to cool off.

  She loved Sonny, and she understood why her friends melted at his handsome features and boyish charm, but she wanted more from life than settling down—with him or with anyone. She’d maintained a careful distance after that night, sensitive to his feelings yet honoring her own.

  She adjusted Sonny’s arm again, stealing a look at his broad shoulders, chiseled jaw, and blue eyes. She had apologized many times for leaving him that night, and he always claimed to understand, but it had changed him. He’d become moody and brooded like an animal that had tasted meat and hungered for more.

  A car drove by, blaring rap music. A drunk stumbled past. Avani jerked them to a stop. “That’s it, Sonny. Give me your phone.”

  Sonny stumbled against her, scanning the empty streets and gang-tagged storefronts. “I don’t recognize that trash can at all.” He cracked up again.

  “Sonny.”

  “All right, all right. Hold your horses.” Giggling, he retrieved the phone from his pocket.

  Avani called up the GPS and routed them from their current location back to the hotel—many blocks in the opposite direction. “See?”

  “Oops. It’s waaaaayyy back there.”

  She scowled and returned the phone. “I told you. Come on.”

  They turned and had taken only a few steps when something darted in front of them. Avani clung to him.

  He pulled her close and smelled her hair, sobering a bit more.

  A rat emerged. Avani laughed and stepped away.

  Sonny frowned and tugged her back.

  She forced a giggle and removed his arm. “Maybe I should ask the rat which way to go. He probably knows these streets better than any—”

  Sonny covered her mouth with his before she could finish, clutching her close with his powerful arms.

  She shoved her hands against his chest and pushed back “Sonny. What are you—?”

  His lips crushed hers again. He backed Avani into an alley and pushed her against a brick wall.

  She thrashed and kicked, but her efforts were no match for his brawny strength. “Sonny, stop.” She yanked one hand free and slapped him hard across the face, hoping to sober him the rest of the way.

  SONNY

  Sonny snapped back, cheek stinging. All those years wasted loving her, knowing she would never love him back, remembering how sweet she’d tasted by the fire that night, how her body had fit every curve of his, and how he’d wanted her every day since—his rage grew. Avani pleaded, but Sonny no longer listened.

  He flashed his switchblade at her throat, and she froze, wild-eyed and scared. He pressed the blade closer, controlling Avani more with her fear of knives than with the weapon itself.

  “Sonny. Please.”

  Sonny cut the straps of her dress. “You love me.” He ground his hips into hers, raking her bare back across the bricks. He would have been gentle with her that night by the fire. But she’d rejected him, and for that, she would pay.

  He forced himself against her, and the knife tip punctured the soft skin below her jaw. A thin line of blood trickled down her throat. He loosened his pants.

  “Sonny. No.” Avani pushed as hard as she could and twisted from his grip. She punched his face, her small fist glancing off his cheek.

  “You love me.” Sonny grabbed her shoulders and slammed her against the alley wall. Her head bounced hard off the brick and she slumped in his arms.

  “Avani?” Sonny dropped his knife, cradled her head, and lowered her unconscious body to the ground. When he pulled back his hand, it was smeared with blood. “Oh, God.” Adrenaline sobered whatever drunkenness remained.

  “Avani?” He shook her, but she didn’t respond. Welts from his grip reddened her throat. “Oh, God. No.” He shook her again, harder this time. “Avani, please. Wake up!”

  She didn’t move.

  His stomach heaved and sweat rolled down his face. Sonny couldn’t remember what he’d done. The animal had grown too fierce, too fast. Avani’s bra was off, but her panties remained untouched. Thank God he’d stopped before raping her. But how bad was she? Would the cops find out? What would happen to him?

  Terror derailed all reasoning. Sonny flung the dress across Avani, grabbed his knife and ran toward the hotel.

  It’s just a nightmare, he told himself, sprinting down the sidewalk. I’ll wake up in a few hours, and she’ll be there. We’ll have breakfast and get the horse we came for, and I will never touch her again if she doesn’t want me to. Oh, God, please. Let her be okay.

  AVANI

  Avani shivered uncontrollably in the cold predawn darkness. She heard voices nearby and spotted two vagrants searching her purse. Fear spiked every nerve, but she willed herself to remain still, hoping they’d go away. One found her cell phone and California driver’s license. The other dug out fifty dollars in cash. She didn’t care if they took it, so long as they left her alone.

  Instead, they pocketed the cash, tossed her purse, and leered at her nearly naked form.

  “Never tasted sugar like that,” one man said, his mouth sunken from missing teeth.

  “Me first.” The second man licked crusty lips riddled with sores.

  Avani screamed and shuffled backward, scraping her skin on the cement.

  “Come on, sweetie.” The toothless man waggled his tongue at her.

  Avani screamed again when a voice interrupted.

  “You don’t want to do that.”

  The men spun to find a figure blocking the alley entrance. Avani could not make out the shape, but the voice was maternal and kind.

  “Like hell,” Toothless snapped back.

  “Unless you plan to join the party,” Crusty Lips retorted.

  “You don’t want to do that,” the stranger repeated, and golden-green light burst from her eyes. Her shape swelled and transformed, and Avani couldn’t tell if those were wings on her back or an oversized coat.

  Both men yelped and ran. Avani froze, shaking and clutching her dress.

  “Shh,” the stranger said, and her form returned to that of a plump, middle-aged woman. She approached with slow and gentle movements, offering Avani her coat. “It’s okay. I’m here to help you.”

  Avani took the coat and slipped it on. Her heart slammed against her ribs, and breath came in ragged gasps, but her trembling eased.

  “There’s a s
helter nearby,” the woman told her. “They have a doctor. She’ll know what to do.” She collected Avani’s dress and purse, careful to place the phone and driver’s license back inside the bag. Dark green rings flashed around her golden irises as she helped Avani stand. “Can you walk?”

  Avani gripped the woman’s arm and took a step.

  “Good. Okay. Easy, now.”

  The woman’s strength and confidence triggered memories of the abused and wary chestnut horse in the field yesterday, the one she and Sonny had come to collect. Avani had taken her time to calm the horse, gain its trust, and let it sense her good intentions before making contact. That step was crucial to taking it back to the ranch and helping it heal. Now she found herself in that horse’s place, giving the same level of instinctual trust to this kind and gentle stranger.

  As the woman guided her from the alley, time twisted in slow motion around Avani. The buildings, streets, and lights appeared real, as did the cracks in the sidewalk and the pungent smells of garbage, sweat, and blood. But these things surrounded Avani now more like a painting, as if she’d stepped into a world that existed, and yet didn’t at the same time. She shivered again and couldn’t stop.

  One hour later, Avani continued trembling atop the shelter’s clinic table, the white walls around her glowing like ice in the early morning light. Her skin erupted in another round of goosebumps, and a lady covered her with a second blanket.

  “Lie still, love,” the woman said. Her British accent made her sound like famous actresses Avani had seen in movies. “We’re almost done.”

  She’d already secured the bandage on Avani’s neck. She was checking her head and the scrapes, cuts, and bruises that ran down her back. “I’m Dr. Lawson, but you can call me Eva.”

  Her touch was skilled yet caring.

  “You are fortunate.” She applied antiseptic cream. “Two centimeters more and he might have nicked your carotid artery.”