Legacy Lost

by Jillian David

  Plowing ahead, she continued to chatter. “Anyway, so all these years I’ve held a bit of a flame for him—no offense intended—but there is such a thing as too much familiarity. You get where I’m coming from?”

  “Pardon?”

  Her head swam. Swallowing, she rolled her hands into fists and concentrated for all she was worth.

  She had to keep going as long as possible. A demonic filibuster on her awful relationship skills and crappy life. Not a problem. Hell, she had hours of material and stockpiles of angst. “Okay, keep up. You know how when you ask a guy ‘what are you thinking?’”

  “No.”

  “Really? Because it seems like someone like you would know this stuff, being around for a long time and all.” She took a quick breath. “Anyway. Everyone knows that you never want the honest answer. You never want to know what the person is thinking. Ever. Am I right?”

  “I did not know this.” Did that heat change to a more contemplative inferno? Or had she lost her mind?

  “Okay, look. I’m giving this info to you free of charge. Maybe you can apply this knowledge in the future, since it sounds like you recently came out of a difficult relationship and it appears you’re working on a five-hundred-year plan. What I’m saying—and pay attention—is that 100 percent honesty in a relationship is not only dangerous, it’s unhealthy.” Her voice was getting hoarse. Must be all the bull she served up.

  “You would have someone lie to you?”

  “No. That’s not what I’m saying. Keep up, would you?” A surge in blackness told her she might have overstepped Mr. Dark, Hot, and Glowing’s ego limits. “What I’m saying is that humans aren’t designed for total honesty. It hurts too much. People need to keep some of their deepest, darkest thoughts to themselves.”

  “Why?”

  “Because telling your love everything you think about her is frightening. It drives her away instead of bringing her closer.”

  “Truly?” Curiosity pinged off her filter.

  Now she was giving dating advice to a black blob that smelled like rotten eggs? Really, he had much bigger issues than getting the time of day from a lady, but whatever. “Duh. Why do you think the Newlywed Game was so fun? People hadn’t been totally honest before, and so, on TV in front of a million viewers, we got to see how dishonest these supposedly happy couples were.”

  A low growl emanated from the darkness. “So, the key to happiness is not telling all of the truth?”

  “You catch on pretty quickly.”

  “Hmm . . . ”

  Had she distracted him? Would Kerr make it here in time?

  Maybe in the meantime, the creature would leave to try out his newfound dating tricks on some hapless woman or man or whatever kind of partner this thing dug.

  Charred dissatisfaction seeped out of the creature. “No matter. I still intend to kill him and then you.”

  Like getting shoved into an ice-cold pool, the reality of the situation had her scrambling to formulate a Plan B, and fast. “No, you can’t.”

  “Can’t?” The yell, filled with several octaves of fury, scorched her skin. The echo of rage battered her mind.

  Sulfur replaced oxygen until her nostrils burned and her vision dimmed at the edges.

  “You will not hurt him!” she hollered.

  The darkness got bigger. No, closer. More light disappeared. She surreptitiously scooted closer to Eric and inched her other hand onto his arm.

  The figure hissed. “No one commands me. No one.”

  A piece of darkness extended toward her, like a black arm but with only a hint of structure.

  However, the flame that came shooting out of it sure had definition.

  Fire erupted on Eric’s shirt and she batted it out.

  “Stop!”

  “No.” Another flame. Then another.

  Despite the rocks still on top of him, Eric’s inert body drew up, like a burning piece of plastic. Rocks clinked against each other as he shifted position.

  Anger. A weird whistling filled her brain and pushed outward, as if her mind wanted to explode out in all directions.

  And destroy the shadow jerk.

  Both of its lightless arms, if you could call them by that name, rose. Double flames poured out.

  Shelby pushed off her good leg and flung herself on top of Eric.

  Searing heat scored her skin. Peeling it off raw wouldn’t hurt as much as this onslaught.

  That shrill, screaming pressure cooker of a headache pounded until all her existence boiled down to her own frustration, fear, and anger. No way would Eric die here like this. There had to be more she could do.

  Her ability buzzed behind her eyelids, like a swarm of manic bees, eager to get out.

  What had Ruth said the other day?

  “That gift can adapt to fit a dire need.”

  “How do I make it do that?”

  “Willpower. Openness to change . . . and stubbornness.”

  Shelby had to try. No way would she give up protecting him until she was crispy and dead.

  Concentrating on shielding Eric, she relaxed the control of her mind and unleashed the pressurized pain and throbbing. Like a Roman candle, her consciousness sparked out around her in a burst of power. Then it settled like gauze on top of Eric.

  And held.

  Chapter 30

  The ungodly howl and mental pings of frustrated rage blowtorching two inches from her head told Shelby all she needed to know about her situation.

  Visualizing a dome over herself and Eric, she used the instinctive filters she always had available. Only now, she used them to bolster that protective power and spread it out in a three-foot radius.

  Sick, green fire battered the invisible covering and dissipated. Her head ached as she held the protection in place. The screaming engine noise of fire beating against her shield told the tale. If she let up, even for a second, she and Eric were dead.

  She would not let go.

  She pulled all of her best memories of him to her and used the energy they gave her to build her power into the little dome, shoring it up with affection and . . . love. Little did it matter to admit it.

  Even if they survived the inferno, would Eric live? Was he even alive now?

  The defenses wavered as sadness undermined her power. Fingers of flame worked through the shield and blistered her skin.

  No. She had to hold it in place a little longer. That niggling sensation when her brother came near penetrated the relentless blast. He wasn’t far away. Maybe Kerr would make it in time to help.

  What about her other power? The one where she dove into the other person’s mind to find out what he was feeling? Maybe she could dig into this . . . thing’s brain and mess with him. Knock out his power. Distract him. Annoy him. Anything.

  First time she’d used that extra ability, she’d passed out and her vision blurred for a few minutes. And the last time she’d tried that trick, she had flat out gone blind for several hours. What would happen this time? She took stock of her current situation.

  Nowhere to go but up.

  She stroked Eric’s matted hair. Screw it all. She’d throw the kitchen sink at the fire-flinging jerk, if it meant saving Eric’s life.

  Pushing back at the pain that speared through her entire body, she concentrated on the thing above her, letting its nasty emotions ooze all over her. Then she traced the path of hatred and revenge back to its source: a black, moist-sounding mass of worm-like creatures that moved and shifted within what served as the thing’s mind.

  Ignoring the spike of pain that drilled her skull, she dove into the living, gelatinous mass and followed the emotions to their wriggling source: a dark red ember of evil, spewing hatred and rage in all directions. The thing’s mind. Its disgusting, writhing core.

  There was no manual on dealing with situations like this one. So what did you do with worms?

  Squish them?

  She mentally plunged into the wriggling quagmire of the creature’s mind and held onto as ma
ny of the slimy tendrils as possible. She twisted and squeezed each one until it stopped moving. Grabbing more, she popped their quivering forms. The entrails turned her hands sticky.

  This is all in your mind. Don’t get grossed out.

  A nasty scream penetrated her corporeal ears. A good sign that something she was doing had pissed him off.

  Or gave him the push he needed to try even harder to kill her.

  Continuing to inflict as much damage as possible, she kept squeezing. All she wanted was to hurt him at least a fraction of how much he had hurt Eric.

  Squeeze. Squish. Pop.

  Screaming, slimy anger burst within the kernel of the creature’s mind.

  Relentless waves of rage lashed her consciousness.

  Keep going.

  She gritted her teeth against the blinding headache. If going into normal people’s minds caused bad side effects, what might be the results of diving into a supernatural being of evil’s mind?

  Didn’t care as long as it saved Eric.

  After another minute of destroying as many worms as possible, her energy flagged and she had to withdraw.

  Her hearing had become strangely muffled, like being underwater.

  And her vision? Hard to tell in the darkness. The fire battering her wasn’t as bright.

  The dark creature’s onslaught waned but did not stop.

  Hold onto the shield. Don’t let it go.

  The eerie green fire still rained down over Eric and her, but not as intensely now.

  Peeking up at the figure, the size of the light-absorbing blackness had decreased.

  Did Mr. Relationship-Challenged Evil Blob have limits? Weaknesses?

  Did it matter? All she needed was to hold on for a little longer. The sense of Kerr’s presence was stronger now.

  She dug her fingers into Eric’s arm and back and spread her torso out on top of him. If she did fail, that creature would literally have to go through her dead body to get to Eric.

  Her shield weakened, and cracks formed in her mental dome. A finger of lurid green flame probed under the protection, charring her arm. More fire followed.

  No. She concentrated on the man beneath her and threw all of her energy into bolstering the screen. Her head felt like it was getting turned inside out, raw, rubbed with salt. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move.

  Please let Kerr be close. Let this be done soon. I can’t go much further.

  A white-blue light hit her from behind her shoulder, and she flinched. But this light didn’t hurt. The fire above her receded, but she kept her protection formed over Eric’s body.

  Glancing up, she saw twin LED lights shining down from the cliff.

  Shouts barely penetrated her fuzzy hearing.

  The lights above her should be much brighter, but even blinking and trying to clear her eyes didn’t work. Her vision dimmed by the second.

  A bubble of danger rode over her, but then a sensation of protection and safety enveloped her. Weird.

  The crack of gunshot.

  A howl.

  And then a blast of a new power came, like that bubble of danger had exploded outward, mere inches above her head.

  The creature yowled.

  Then, the fiery torch of the thing hissed and disappeared.

  Her ears rang. Crunches and rock fall penetrated her foggy senses. She wanted to protect herself and Eric from more rubble coming down, but she couldn’t move. Light flickered in and out of her field of gray vision. She couldn’t bring anything into focus. Her head throbbed.

  She half lay on top of Eric, keeping one hand fisted in his jacket fabric. No way would she let go.

  Low voices filtered through her ringing ears into her reality.

  When something touched her arm, she screamed and whipped her free hand around, hitting solid muscle.

  “Shelby!” someone shouted. Even with her muffled hearing, the tone sounded so familiar. “Kerr, get down here. She’s still alive.”

  “Of course I’m alive. What did you expect,” she muttered, sagging onto Eric.

  Her shattered leg spread agony through every inch of her body. All she wanted was to embrace unconsciousness.

  No. Get Eric to safety first.

  “Shelby!” That voice. “You’re going to be okay. I promise.”

  Really? Was it him? Not possible.

  A big hand slid under her chin and raised her head. The light from her headlamp lit up the face in front of her.

  Thick neck muscles, a hard jaw, that unforgiving mouth, a crooked nose, and gold-glittering black eyes.

  Oh, shit.

  Blackness pulled her into the abyss.

  “Vaughn.”

  Chapter 31

  Dark.

  Floating.

  Eric could feel nothing. The silence was so profound, it made his ears ring.

  Was he dead? What about Shelby? Geezus, her leg. The last thing he remembered was pushing her away as the entire bluff came down on him. Was she okay?

  Surely he’d know if Shelby had died. No, he didn’t have her power. But he just . . . would know. Right?

  Hell, he didn’t even know if he’d passed beyond this world and onto the next one.

  He tried to move. Couldn’t tell if anything happened or not. Out of the blank darkness, a dull, muffled beeping sound seeped into his reality. Without light, that electronic sound filled his mind, his ears, his senses.

  If he could detect sound, then maybe he wasn’t dead, after all.

  He might get a second chance with Shelby. What could he say to her to repair what was broken between them?

  Assuming he’d be able to speak again. Or move.

  Damn, that beeping noise was driving him nuts. Couldn’t someone turn the machine down or off?

  Focus. What would he say to her if he got another opportunity?

  How about “sorry for being an ass.” That would be a good start.

  How about “I’ll figure out any way possible to suppress my thoughts if it lets us be together”? Not quite the right message, either.

  Groveling. That could work. “Please take me back.”

  No. Too pedestrian.

  In the darkness, his thumping heartbeat challenged the beeping machine for precedence in his ears. He knew what he would sacrifice for her. The thing he valued most in his life.

  Control.

  Right there, that was everything.

  Besides, where had his need to manage every situation gotten him?

  He would’ve waved an arm around, but he couldn’t tell if he moved. And even if he did move, he wasn’t able to see the action.

  Control. He couldn’t dictate the terms in which he had a relationship with Shelby. With her . . . sensitivity to emotion, she had to decide on her own whether they had a future together and the flavor of that future.

  Loss of control for a life with Shelby? Every day with her would be like corralling a wild horse. And some things were never meant to be confined. Every day could be unpredictable. Damn it, Eric wasn’t a go-with-the-flow kind of man.

  But he could support and protect someone like Shelby.

  Strike that. He could support and protect Shelby. Only her.

  She brought joy spiced up by prickly stubbornness into his life, and God help him, he wanted more.

  All right, then. Plan?

  A heavy weight pressed against him from all sides. The beeping faded away.

  Too tired. Change was hard. Planning took up too much energy. Besides, it was warm and cozy in this . . . wherever he was.

  He’d get some shut-eye, then come up with a plan to get out of here and find Shelby and say the things he should have said before but was too stuck in his ways to realize it.

  Later.

  For now, he needed to rest.

  Just for a while.

  In the comfortable, warm darkness.

  • • •

  Gray tones seeped in when she opened her eyes. She blinked and the blurriness formed into vague shapes.

  Dim lig
hts blinked on the dark box of a machine. Monitoring vitals, probably.

  A shape uncurled from a nearby chair. She opened her senses. Anger, fatigue, and resignation tapped against her mind, making her head throb again.

  At least her basic power to detect emotion had returned. She winced.

  Trying to put up the filter didn’t work. Damn it.

  “Hi, Garrison.” His face came into view, blurry now but visible. All tight expression and a fuzzy stare.

  “How’s it going, sis?” He sat on the edge of her bed, making her world jiggle and tilt. Warmth pressed around her hand.

  “Can you turn the lights up?” she croaked.

  “Um, they’re on.”

  “Well, shit.” She blinked again. Grayness surrounded her.

  “Yeah.”

  She licked her lips. Busted vision was the least of her worries. “How’s Eric?”

  “He’s . . . stable.”

  No powers needed to read between the lines. “What aren’t you telling me?” An invisible knife twisted in her chest.

  “He’s in a coma.”

  “For how long?”

  A low sigh and another hand patted her arm. “It’s Monday, so we’re on day three.”

  “I’ve been out that long?”

  “You came to yesterday for a few minutes, complaining about being cold and how it was dark. Even semiconscious, you do complain a lot.”

  “At least I’m consistent.” She swallowed a hard, painful lump. “So what’s going on with Eric?”

  “Swelling on the brain. Skull fracture. Didn’t need surgery, so they kept both of you here at Bondurant Valley Hospital.”

  The headache throbbed in time with her pounding heart. “When do they think he’ll wake up?”

  “Shelby. They’re not sure if he will.” He squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry.”

  Her eyes couldn’t see much, but they could sure as hell burn. “Yeah, me too.” When she moved, a stab of pain shot through her leg. “What happened there?”

  “Open fracture. Man, you did it up right with this injury. Orthopedic surgeon cleaned it out and put a plate and a bunch of pins in there to hold the bone together. You have more scaffolding than a skyscraper. And you’re on strong antibiotics to prevent infection.”