“Interesting.”
Barnaby wheezed for a moment. “Hope that works for you, my boy.”
“Thanks, me too.” Peter paused. “Can I ask you one more question?”
“Surely,” came Barnaby’s voice, gravelly with age.
Peter planted his feet on the floor and leaned forward. “How’d you do it? Get out of your contract?”
“I can’t tell. Trade secret, very unpopular with our lord Jerahmeel. The fewer Indebted, the hungrier and more desperate he gets for souls. But despite his twisted ways, he is bound by at least a few rules.”
“What are they?”
“No one knows exactly, but I have made a few accurate guesses over the centuries. The rules were set so many years ago.”
“Before you?”
“Oh yes, well before me.” He blew his nose again. “Let’s see, if I remember correctly, Jerahmeel became what he is today sometime in the thirteenth century.”
“I’ve never heard this. Why? How?”
“Some kind of religious holocaust back then. Wiped out his family, made him what he is today. Details are scarce, but I do know part of the deal was that if he wanted to stay strong and immortal, he had a few rules to follow. He can only come so close to crossing that line. That’s how I got out.”
“How?”
“I’m sorry, my boy. My final oath was to never share those details. Let me just say that my lovely wife, Jane, God rest her beautiful soul, was my inspiration. Now I’ve said too much already, my boy.”
Barnaby’s deceased wife had been the love of the recent, natural portion of his life.
“But what about now?” Peter continued. “How do you feel now that you’ve reached the end of your own life?”
“Breaking the contract and becoming mortal was completely worth the risk and the pain and the loss of immortality. Don’t get me wrong. My joints ache, the pate is bald, and I can’t remember my last decent erection. I’m a defective mess. But I get to live a life to its natural conclusion. There’s a satisfaction in finally moving on.”
Peter shoved his hand through his hair, cursing when he hit the line of staples. “Yeah, I see what you mean.”
“You’ll get there, my boy.”
“Thanks, old man. I appreciate it.”
“I’d say any time, but at some point in the future, that won’t be the case.” Barnaby coughed again. “But as long as I’m here, I’m always happy to help.”
Chapter 5
At noon on Monday during her next twenty-four-hour shift, Allison picked up the doctor’s workstation phone and dialed Peter Blackstone’s contact number. Her heart thudded, and she had to take a deep breath. On the second ring, he picked up.
“Hello?” His low voice sent chills up her arms. She relaxed her death grip on the phone.
“Mr. Blackstone, this is Dr. La Croix from the Grande Ronde ER. I was calling to check on you after your accident.”
“Do you call all of your patients?”
She rocked back on her heels at the gruff reply. “Uh no, but if they’re seriously ill or injured or they leave AMA, then we try make sure they’re doing okay. My personal policy is to call all AMA patients myself on my next shift.”
“Oh. Yes, then I’m fine.”
Stammering a reply, she struggled to salvage the conversation and maintain her professionalism. “Um, all right. If you have any other problems or notice new symptoms, please feel free to return to the ER. You can always be re-evaluated.”
The silence stretched out.
Is he still on the phone?
“There’s this one problem you might be able to help with,” he finally said.
“Sure.” She gulped. “What’s the problem?”
“These staples are driving me crazy. Can you take them out?”
“Possibly. It’s a little early to remove them, but if you want to stop in today, I’ll see what I can do.”
“Until then.”
The line went dead. Allison’s hands shook. She was going to see him again. She shivered, anticipating his dark eyes, his touch. Almost craved it, almost felt it, which was bizarre, not to mention unprofessional.
Another horrible thought occurred to her. What if he truly knew about her visions? Would he reveal the secret? She pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose and tried to concentrate on the chart in front of her.
That afternoon, Allison put the finishing touches on a bright red forearm cast for an unlucky, eleven-year-old trampoline victim. He preened beneath the attention of the nurses, who signed his cast with lots of XOXOs. Allison smiled at his mother, who, with two other young boys in tow, returned a weary grin. She bet it wouldn’t be the last trip this mother made to the ER with an adventurous kid.
And throughout the encounter, Allison managed to keep one eye on the security monitor for the reception area.
The family had just signed off on the paperwork when the ER doors whooshed open on the monitor.
Allison’s heart jumped. She peeked down the hall.
Her niece dodged past Sarah into the reception area, stopped abruptly, and planted her toes on the line painted perpendicular to the reception desk.
“Hi, Marcie!” Pigtails askew, the girl waved at the ER receptionist.
The older woman smiled. “Quincy! How’s my favorite princess?”
Quincy unselfconsciously fluffed her satin and lace dress and dropped into a curtsey. “Sierra had a birthday party today. I won a prize.” She pointed to her sparkly wand. “Um, is Auntie Al busy?” Her toes stayed glued to the line.
Marcie called out, “Doctor Al? Princess here to see you.”
Straightening her white coat as she rounded the corner, Allison opened her arms for Quincy to run to her. Careful not to touch Quincy’s skin, Allison patted the back of her niece’s poufy outfit.
“Let’s see the dress. Now, what kind of princess are you?” Allison played along to the delight of the twirling, preening six-year-old.
“Fairy princess!”
“Yes, but where are your wings?”
Momentarily stymied, Quincy recovered and motioned for Allison to lean down. She whispered, “They’re invisible wings. Only true princesses can see them.”
“Oh, then I must not be a true princess.” Allison pulled a sad face.
Sarah hid her laugh behind a cough.
Quincy straightened. “Hmm. Then I will make you a princess for today.” She tapped Allison on the arm with her wand.
Allison oozed gracious surprise. “Hey, now I can see your wings! They’re so very beautiful. Thank you, fairy princess.”
Quincy twirled on her toes, giggling, as satin and crinoline swished out around her.
“Okay, Miss Fairy Princess, you got your wish to say hi to Auntie Al. Now it’s time to get home for dinner,” Sarah said.
“You heard your mother.” At Quincy’s moue of unhappiness, Allison announced in a passably dramatic voice, “Let us part ways with princess kisses.” She placed air kisses on either side of Quincy’s head, much to the young girl’s ecstasy.
Quincy hugged Allison again. “Bye, Auntie Al!”
Senses on sudden alert, Allison’s heart skipped a beat, and her breath caught when she saw the figure standing in the open doorway. Peter had slipped into the ER reception area and was taking in Quincy’s antics with a crooked smile softening his dark gaze. She hadn’t seen him truly smile before. His face was transformed into something even more handsome.
Sarah raised her eyebrow with an impish smirk. Her older sister’s eyes narrowed on Peter until Quincy tugged her out the doors.
He motioned toward the ER doors. “Busy day?”
Breathe, Allison. Ignoring Marcie’s slack-jawed expression at the jeans-clad man, she laughed. “Busy if you’re a fairy princess, I suppose.”
Peter gestured to his head. All she saw was his short, black hair, neatly brushed to the side. “Can you work on a non-princess for a staple removal?”
“It just so happens I don’t have any
patients here right now.”
“You mean it’s quiet?” He frowned at Marcie and Allison’s twin gasps of horror. “What?”
“You’re not supposed to say that word in here.” Allison crossed her arms. “If you say it, bad things will happen.”
Marcie crossed her arms in mirror image and nodded.
Peter raised his arms. “Sorry, I don’t know the rules. Will you still take out my staples? I promise not to bleed out or have a sudden emergency.”
With a grin, Allison waved him into an exam room and pulled out a vinyl chair, motioning for him to sit. She opened a cabinet to retrieve gauze and a staple removal kit. The low-level vibration of his mind echoed more persistently in her head.
When she turned around, she ran into Peter’s chest and jumped back. No visions. His flannel shirt prevented skin-to-skin contact, thank goodness. He remained close, staring down at her in the awkward silence. The room was much too small and too warm.
Seriously, what was she doing? She had no business, personally or professionally, thinking of him as anything but a patient. Besides, if he knew what a freak of humanity she truly was, he’d run far away and stay gone.
“Uh, if you can sit, I can get to your staples more easily that way.”
He settled onto the chair, his eyes never leaving her face.
His thigh muscles bunched under the denim as he sat, the sight making her mouth go dry. A spicy, masculine scent mixed with his still-damp hair. She wanted to bury her nose at the nape of his neck and inhale.
Damn it, keep it professional.
With a deep sigh, she pulled on gloves and refused to think of anything besides removing the staples. She couldn’t even come up with small talk, so the staples clinked too loudly as they dropped into the metal basin.
“Interesting,” she murmured.
Peter turned his head and glanced up at her.
“You’ve healed extremely fast. You can barely tell there was ever a laceration.”
Clink, clink.
When she finished, she circled around and peered at his face. “And your bruises are gone, too. I don’t understand; that’s too quick to heal.” Allison frowned as she brushed his cheekbone with her gloved hand.
Seizing her hand with a deep growl, he lurched to his feet, knocking over the metal tray in the process. He held her with a firm grip, but he didn’t hurt her.
She struggled for air, her fingertips tingling, even through the gloves. Eyes level with his collarbone, she leaned back, desperate for personal space.
Damn it. Not another vision. It’s too soon.
She tugged at her hand, but he held fast, dragging her to within mere inches of his chest. Waves of heat washed over her until sweat prickled between her breasts.
A muscle in his jaw jumped. “What did you see the other day when I was here?” The tense, desperate tone of his voice caught her off-guard.
She studied his broad chest where the buttons on his shirt strained against his rapid breaths. Gulping, she glanced up at him. “I saw a man who should’ve been dead, or at least critically injured, in a car accident wake up and walk out of here like nothing had happened.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he said, tightening his grip. “When you touched my arm, what did you see?”
She licked her lips and froze while he stared at her mouth. “I saw death.” She met his dark brown gaze. “And it was awful.”
Peter dropped her hand as though he’d been scalded.
She staggered back a step.
His mouth compressed into an angry line. “I need to talk with you.” He glanced around the room. “Not here.”
“I’m not sure that’s—”
“Please.” The word seemed torn from him.
An ache twisted in her chest as compassion overcame her fear.
His intense, dark gaze bore into her eyes. “I know what you are.”
Her heart flopped. “What did you say?” Heck, even she didn’t know what she was. Or what was wrong with her. She simply saw things. How could he know more about her abilities than she did?
“I think I can help you stop seeing these ... images.”
Allison rocked back on her heels. He could stop her visions? How was that even possible? All the heartache she’d endured, predicting people’s deaths. That constant, paralyzing terror that she would predict more of her family members’ deaths. How could she pass up the chance to be normal?
She considered his strong face, the warmth of his body reaching across the space between them. She didn’t know this man. Could she trust him? Her chart told her there was something fundamentally different about him. Her non-clinical instincts insisted that he was a decent guy.
When she boiled it all down, who the hell cared? She was toxic to her fellow human beings the way things stood now. If someone could fix her twisted gift, she couldn’t pass up that opportunity.
Bottom line: if he could help her, she had to trust this man.
“All right, I’ll talk with you. As long as you can make all of this stop.” She gestured toward her head. “I work twenty-four-hour shifts, so I’ll be done after eight tomorrow morning.”
He watched her for a moment, then cleared his throat. “Until tomorrow. Thank you for taking out the staples.” The door swung closed behind him.
As the silence enveloped her, she stood in the exam room, feeling bereft. And fascinated. And horrified.
Peter Blackstone knew her secret.
A strange echo of him pinged in the back of her mind, the sensation reassuring, like someone else was on her side.
With a shake of her head, she washed her hands and headed back out to continue her shift.
Chapter 6
Leaning against the wall outside the ER, Peter turned his head as the doors slid open and Allie emerged. The air caught in his chest. He hadn’t realized how much he’d anticipated seeing her again. Excitement percolated. Or was it that whisper of her in his mind? No matter. This wasn’t the time to have any personal interest in a woman. Not for something like him.
“Did my ‘Q’ word cause problems last night?”
He kept pace as she walked slowly across the parking lot. She clutched her jacket closed against the cool morning air.
“Thankfully, for your sake, no problems.” She paused at her driver’s side door and smiled.
He hadn’t seen a smile like that for too many years to count. Something twisted in a bittersweet way in his heart until he had to clear his throat. “I’d like to go somewhere and talk. If that’s still okay with you.”
She slowly unwrapped her hands from the jacket and took a deep breath.
He held his own breath.
After a minute, she let out a sigh. It sounded like sweet music to his ears.
“Okay.”
Trying to strike a balance between friend and stalker, he said, “If we’re going to discuss your special powers, we should be somewhere no one can see or hear us.”
“Agreed.” Her brow furrowed as she peered up at the cool morning sky.
He clenched his jaw, willing patience.
Her small hands clutched a satchel which triggered unbidden images of those hands on him. Primal craving shocked him as it erupted with unexpected force. He wanted Allie in his arms. Badly. The mere thought was completely inappropriate, magical even, given his occupation and his bizarre existence. How could he be with anyone in his current state? With effort, he focused on what she was saying.
“If you want to follow me, we can talk at my place.” Her pulse jumped at the base of her throat.
He wanted his lips there.
Not now. Focus. “I’ll be right behind you.”
Despite his flaming desire, he refused to betray the trust she’d placed in him. He strode back to his truck. Glancing around the parking lot, he spied a man in a sedan near the far entrance. Peter looked down to put the key in the ignition, and when he raised his head, the vehicle was gone.
The beauty of the low mountains that rose parallel to the co
unty road on the way to Allie’s soothed his wretched soul. He followed her vehicle onto a dirt lane that ended at a one-story house, surrounded by pine trees and tucked into the base of the mountain. When he got out of his truck, he turned in a circle and breathed in the fresh scent of the evergreens. The view of the valley and snow-capped Wallowa Mountains turned something heavy in his chest. All this—the house, the trees, the view, the woman—he could never have.
Her welcoming front porch, adorned with a swing and bamboo wind chimes, all but folded him in in a warm embrace. He could almost see the white curtains of his first house fluttering in the light summer breeze from the open windows. He could hear echoes of children playing hoops and hopscotch on the sidewalk in the warm evening air. His wife, Claire, waved through the front window as he returned home. When he worked to make out the details of her face, panic flooded him. Damn it, he’d lost the memory of Claire’s face.
He slammed the truck door and followed Allie into the garage.
“Coming?” She had her hand on the garage door switch.
Shaking his head to free memories of a life long gone, he trailed after her into the kitchen. When she flipped on the lights and put her bag down on the counter, a barking hulk launched itself at her.
Peter stepped in to intervene, but she put one foot back and braced for impact with perfect timing. Her smile improved even his cynical nature as she pointed to the floor. The dog dropped to Allie’s feet, tongue lolling and tail thumping.
The beast focused on him, growled once, and sniffed his shoes and hands. The dog gave a single bark and then licked his hand, satisfied.
“Ivy likes you,” Allie said.
“Ivy?”
“Actually, it’s I.V. I got her in med school. It was my own inside joke.” She shrugged. “Ivy doesn’t realize how ginormous she’s become. She thinks she’s still a puppy.”
He didn’t have to reach far to pet Ivy behind the ears. The dog rolled her eyes in ecstasy and the thumping on the floor increased in tempo.
“Oh, and be careful, she’s got enough Great Dane in her to make her tail a lethal weapon.”
Ivy whacked him on the leg with said appendage.
Immortal Flame Page 5
