by Dale Mayer
"I'm here, Sam. Take it easy."
"I'm almost there. Just another minute and I'll be good."
"Right. Like I'm going to believe that." He snorted and sat on the coffee table across from her, accidentally nudging Soldier who lay protectively in front of Sam.
Soldier lifted his head, his lip curling at Brandt.
Brandt glared down at him. Soldier glared back.
"No, I'm almost there. Wait, let me check." She lifted her head to look at him. And cried out in agony, her body curling into itself.
Instantly Brandt was at her side. "Jesus, Sam. What the hell?"
Sam gasped for breath her face slowly gaining color with the effort. "It's okay. Honest."
Frustrated, he fisted his hands on his hips. "How? How can this be okay?"
He crouched down beside her, reaching out a hesitant hand. He desperately wanted to give comfort, yet was scared of hurting her further.
She opened her eyes to stare at him again.
"Oh God, Sam." Brandt breathed her name almost in prayer. The depth of her suffering and pain hurt his soul. Her eyes had gone black from her agony.
Helpless, he could only watch. "I'm so sorry, honey. What can I do to help?"
A tiny smile peeped out. "Wait."
He didn't think he could do it. "Sweetheart, there is blood everywhere."
The smile disappeared as she shuddered once, then twice. "Always is."
Brandt sank into a crouch beside the couch. "God, how can you do this – day in and day out?"
Her answer, so succinct and so honest blew him away. "Easy. I have no choice."
***
3:48 am, June 20th
Sam found the shift through transition harder this time. Having someone watch while she healed and returned to normal reality wasn't exactly fun. Self-conscious or not, she couldn't move before it was time. Shifting her glance to catch Brandt's expression, she winced and stared up at the ceiling. Barely concealed horror still rippled across his face.
She closed her eyes. She couldn't help him deal with this. It took everything she had to deal with it herself.
The research she'd done said that blood rarely manifested in visions. But in special cases, people woke up with their hands or bodies stained with the stuff. For her, the blood appeared wherever the injuries manifested, but less blood than if she'd truly been the one attacked. Apparently, the amount of physical manifestations should decrease as she learned to control her gifts. She could only hope.
Gently, Sam swung her legs over the side of her couch and sat up. Feeling dizzy, she took several shuddering breaths before fixing her gaze on Brandt.
Wild eyes stared back at her. She couldn't blame him. This stuff came straight out of a horror movie. She wanted to curl up and hide in shame. She'd hoped he'd never see her like this. Never see her so exposed, so...freakish. She could only imagine what he thought of her now.
A few last tremors worked up her spine. It was almost over. Her eyes still burned, swollen and dry. Even her bones ached.
She focused on Brandt instead of the pain. His rumpled hair looked adorable – at total odds to his eyes. She glanced at the clock, yawning at the same time. It was close to four in the morning. He must have stayed all night.
She slid her gaze over him again. He still appeared shell-shocked. It said much about his perception. He'd never be able to accept this part of her. The pain from her vision was nothing to the sudden pain in her heart.
Brandt sat down suddenly. She studied his features. In truth, it looked like his belief system, his very foundation of existence had been ripped out from under him.
Sam couldn't handle any more. Tears of shame burned. Freak.
"Christ." Brandt's whispered words were a soft prayer for understanding.
Sam knew how he felt. She also knew her prayers had never been answered. "What's the matter?"
He snorted, rose, and reached to poke a finger through one of the many slices in the blanket covering her. "This is what's the matter." He stuck his fingers through a bigger cut and waggled them.
Confused, Sam watched emotions whisper across his face.
He stared at her. "Does this mean...?"
Her bottom lip wobbled and she nodded. "It means another woman has been murdered."
Hearing her own words broke the dam holding back the anguish in Sam's soul. Brandt sat on the couch and tugged her into his arms. Sam went. Hurt, she curled into his chest and let her tears pour. Brandt rocked her gently, her broken sobs so soft they could hardly be heard. The pain behind them could hardly be ignored.
Brandt hugged her tight.
After the worst of the storm had passed, Sam thought she heard him speak.
She shifted slightly to peer up at him, wiping away the tears on her cheeks. "What?"
"I'm sorry to have to do this. I need to ask you some questions while this is all fresh." His gaze glanced off the blanket. He shook his head in a daze. "About the victim, not so much the process – which I admit to having some trouble with." As his hand continued to stroke her sore muscles, he became lost in thought. After a moment, he tugged her close for a quick hug before setting her back slightly.
Holding back a few stray sniffles, Sam shifted into a more comfortable position and let herself relax slightly.
"What happened was in real time." Tears welled again. Sam struggled for control, using her sleeve to wipe her eyes. "The slashes you saw appear on the blanket and on my body were the same injuries the victim received. The blood and cuts to the blankets correlate to the victim's injuries."
Brandt started.
"Are you saying that you are stabbed every time the victim is stabbed?"
The tears slid from the corners of her eyes. "Yes." Her voice was barely more than a whisper.
"No." Brandt shook his head. "No one could survive those injuries. They can't be happening to you, because..." Brandt shifted enough to remove the blanket. "Because you're fine. You'd be dead if that had happened to you. Like those women are dead."
Teary eyed, and tormented by the poor woman's fate, Sam nodded. "You still don't understand." She sniffled, rubbing her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. Recovery might have taken a while longer tonight, it had also taken all of her energy. She was exhausted.
Sam locked her gaze onto his. "In a way, I am exactly like those other women." A quiver ran down her spine, shaking her entire body. Wrapping her arms around her chest, she took a deep breath.
"As each woman dies...so do I – I die every time."
***
10:10 am
"So what are you going to do about it?" The colonel shifted further out of the sun, the buckles on his ever-present suspenders glinting in the bright light. He hooked his cane onto the arm of the overstuffed easy chair as he sat down. He glanced over at Maisy again. "Well, you said it. Enough is enough." He grinned at her sour face. "So what are you prepared to do? The boy is full grown."
"Pshhh." Maisy snorted delicately. "Grown he might be, know his own mind, he doesn't."
The colonel grinned at her. "Oh, he knows his mind. It's just not the mind you want him to have. You don't like that he's choosing to live his life the way he wants to." He reached for his cup of tea. "Admit it. You want him to do it your way."
"Behave yourself, or you can go somewhere else for your tea." She harrumphed and busied herself straightening her sunflower yellow skirts.
The colonel chuckled and relaxed further into his chair.
"The boy should be married and have a family by now. That's all I'm saying." She tilted her face more into the sun. The heat from the sun's rays was wonderfully strong for this hour of the morning. It did her old bones good to soak up the healing rays. "Besides, I like this one."
"Which one?"
"You know perfectly well which one. The skinny one that's all eyes."
"I don't think they're really going out. That boy wouldn't recognize staying power even when it's there right under his nose. He's after other qualities." The colonel wag
gled his thick white eyebrows at her.
"He's a normal male." Maisy grinned at the colonel. "He probably doesn't even know what staying power is."
"Too bad. A girl like that – well she's a keeper."
"She looks like she's survived hell on earth."
The two sat in comfort, enjoying the simple things of life that had taken them decades to appreciate.
The colonel spoke up again. "Did you hear about that case the police are working on?"
Maisy glanced at him. "Which one?"
He waved his hand at the television. "The one they talked about last night. The police are trying to identify the owner of a ring with a four-leaf clover pattern and some sort of snake wrapped through the leaves. Apparently, one diamond is missing from the ring. They didn't specify why they were looking for the information, though."
Pursing her lips, Maisy thought about the many jewelry pieces she'd seen over the years. None had been in that pattern that she could remember. She loved jewelry, particularly unique pieces.
"Can't say that I've seen anything like that – at least not recently."
"When are they coming for lunch?"
Maisy recognized the sly twist to the colonel's face. "Meaning you don't give a damn about seeing him, you'd like to know more about the cases he's working on."
The colonel scrunched his shoulders like a young child who'd been caught with his hand in a cookie jar. "Call him. We need something new to talk about here." He stared at the blank television. "I'm pretty sure I saw that ring somewhere. I just can't remember where."
"Really? That's so exciting."
He harrumphed at her. "It's only exciting if I can remember where. My memory isn't that good."
Maisy smiled. "Isn't that the truth?" She surveyed the courtyard and the other seniors taking the time to enjoy the morning sun. Life was peaceful here – too peaceful. Stimulation was hard to come by and her son's career was the source of much of it. Still, it was a good excuse to get him over where she could work on him a little more. Besides, she shouldn't need an excuse. He was her son. She reached for the phone, ignoring the low chuckles from the colonel.
"Brandt, good morning." She smiled at his sleepy voice. Poor guy, he didn't get enough sleep. "I wanted to catch you before you went to work this morning and got all caught up in your cases."
He mumbled something in response.
Maisy wasn't fazed. He was always like that. "The colonel and I have been talking. He saw that bit of news on the TV about a ring the other night. It triggered something for him."
"What does he remember?"
"That's the thing, he can't quite remember and he's getting really upset about it." She sniffled. Then she frowned. What was that?
Brandt cleared his throat. "We don't want him doing that. He'll remember better when he's calm anyway."
"Well, I know that. But try telling him that." Maisy caught a second sniffle halfway. She glared at the grinning colonel. "I'm really worried about him, Brandt."
"Tell him to relax about it, and if he remembers anything to give me a call. I won't be able to stop by today."
"I will." She hesitated. "Brandt, don't forget to bring Sam by for lunch one day soon."
"I know. It won't likely be this week though. Things are busy at work."
Voices sounded in the background. Maisy widened her eyes. "Brandt, where are you?"
Silence.
"Why?" He cleared his throat.
Another voice came through the phone, faintly recognizable. Maisy strained her hearing. Something about tea. Brandt and tea? She gasped. "Brandt, you're with Sam!" She squealed in joy.
Brandt groaned, "Ouch, my ears. And it's not what you think, Mom."
Maisy bounced on her chair. "I'm sure it isn't, honey." She grinned at the colonel, her thumb in the air. "When are you bringing her for lunch?"
"Not today."
The colonel poked Maisy. "Tell him I want some advice."
She glanced over, frowning at him. But the colonel kept nodding his head. She shrugged. "Brandt, I don't know if this changes anything, the colonel says he wants your advice on something. You know how he is. He'll worry himself into another heart attack until he gets the information he needs."
The colonel blustered at her side. She grinned unrepentantly.
"Okay, I'll try to stop by later today – alone. If I can't, I'll give him a call tonight or tomorrow morning. I can't promise any more than that."
"Oh, that's wonderful dear. We both appreciate you making the effort."
"I said ‘try.’ I may not make it."
She smirked at the colonel, her cohort in fun.
"No, no honey…we understand. Your job has to come first over things like this. That's fine. It would be nice if you brought Sam though."
After saying good-bye, Maisy hung up the phone and turned to grin at her companion. "He said he'll try to get here later this afternoon, or he'll call you later today." She leaned forward slightly as she squeezed the phone to her chest. "He spent the night with Sam."
The colonel nodded. "Good. We should have a few hours to ourselves too."
She plumped her blue white hair and smiled teasingly. "What did you have in mind?"
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
8:25 am, June 21
Brandt found his mind wandering. After what he'd witnessed last night, it amazed him that he could function at all. Sam had been fully recovered this morning. He checked his email, hoping for leads of some kind. He needed progress. He already knew that the stone found in the bedroom of the one victim was a diamond. So, the news broadcaster had gotten it right. The police had nothing to go on – no semen or DNA was ever present. The cold cases he'd collected under his project were similar in that they also lacked forensic evidence. That alone made him wonder if Sam's killer could be the same man he was chasing.
It also reminded him that, according to Sam, another woman lay dead, waiting to be found. It could be days before this one was called in.
He tossed his pen on his desk and glared at the stack of papers waiting his attention. Maybe he should go and talk to the colonel instead. See if he could shake some details loose.
Shutting down the multiple open tabs on paranormal research on his desktop, he rubbed the bridge of his nose. He'd hardly slept. He'd stayed and tried to doze on Sam's couch until it was time to leave for the office. Now fatigue made it hard for him to focus.
His cell phone rang, pulling him out of his reverie.
"Hello." Brandt leaned forward, reaching for a notepad and the pen. At the familiar voice, he closed his eyes and sighed heavily. "Hey Stefan, glad to hear from you."
The thin voice on the other end sounded tired but well. "How is she?"
"She's fine. Better than I am." That was an understatement.
"Of course, she took a totally normal trip into the psychic world, and you've just blown your mind. Figures."
"I find I'm searching for an explanation today. What I saw last night, I'm doubting now in the morning."
"Of course." Stefan sighed. "Your rational mind refuses to accept what your heart already knows."
"And what do I do about it?"
Stefan laughed. "You ignore it. You saw what you saw – now let it go." The irony in his voice was hard to miss. "If you stay with her, it won't be the last time you get to experience something on the wild side.
Brandt's mouth widened. "It's been a little nuts already, I have to admit."
"She's an interesting woman."
"Is that all you can say? Interesting?"
"Absolutely." A heavy, amused pause filled the air. "What would you call her?"
Brandt shifted uncomfortably on the computer chair. He didn't know what to call her at this point. Unfortunately, his friend had insider knowledge that gave him an advantage. Brandt winced, knowing what was coming.
Warm laughter filled the air. "You haven't figured it out, have you? Any woman that can twist you up like this, is...well, definitely interesting."
"Stefan
," he started hesitantly. "I was way out of my element last night. She scared the hell out of me."
Stefan paused. "I have never met anyone with these abilities, so it's new for me, too. To have the cuts and the blood is an interesting twist."
Wrinkles appeared in Brandt's forehead with his confusion. "Why?"
"There is probably less than one person in ten million with her abilities. Maybe even one in a billion. Because of that, we don't know much about them. She has more than one gift, by the way. She's incredibly talented. As she learns control, these physical symptoms may change. Could disappear entirely."
