by Dale Mayer
Well, he used to belong. But not any longer.
God damn it.
Now the rage bit in deep, bringing up old hurts and resentments, like his ex-wife who’d taken off with his kids. And his two daughters who couldn’t be bothered to answer a damn email. Then there was his hag of a mother. The rage grew and grew. He could barely walk for the tension knotting his muscles. He cast his gaze around, looking at the large group of giggling women waiting for the street light to turn so they could cross the road.
All dressed up in heels, ready to lure the gullible males.
Well, maybe it was time for the tables to be turned on those unsuspecting women.
He passed the grocer who was outside moving out new carrots onto one of the heavily laden tables under the awning, a big knife in his hand. And Joey smiled.
Perfect. The grocer turned to help an older female customer at his side. He placed the knife down. Joey sidled over, picked it up, and slid it along one leg and carried on. The clouds moved in front of the sun just then, lending a dark, malevolent energy to the scene. Perfect.
He reached the unsuspecting group in less than thirty seconds.
Then the screams erupted.
Chapter 16
The inside of the car was excruciatingly loud in its silence.
After Stefan’s question, she’d professed to know nothing and had asked for a cab to be called so she could go home. There’d been a slightly uncomfortable pause, then Stefan had insisted on driving her home as he was leaving anyway.
It would have been churlish to refuse – even though she’d wanted to. But he’d led her down to his car and they’d been driving ever since.
He pulled the vehicle over and turned off the engine. She opened the door and brought out her stick. As she exited the car she said, “Thank you.”
But he wasn’t listening. She heard his door open and close and his footsteps as he strode to her side. Of course he was going to be the gallant kind of male.
“I don’t need your help,” she said brusquely. “I can manage just fine.”
“Of course you can. But you don’t have to.”
And damn if he didn’t pick up her hand again and place it on his arm as he had before. She wanted to snap at him for touching her, and at the same time wanted to ask him to hold her close and fix whatever the hell was wrong. But he couldn’t do that. Apparently she was the one that had to. And how that was supposed to happen, she didn’t know.
She kept up her silence until they reached her door. Belatedly she realized he’d already been here.
She unlocked the door and turned to keep him out.
“Let me in,” he said quietly.
“Why?” She tilted her head, listening for lies and deception. Something she could use against this man who saw too much, knew too much, and could come to mean too much.
“We need to talk.”
She gave an indelicate snort. “More talking? I’m pretty well talked out.”
“Not about this.” He waited, the smooth chocolate voice deepening as he added, “I can help.”
A broken sob escaped. She bit the second one back before it could follow. The dam was close to breaking.
And he seemed to know it.
“Let me in,” he repeated, his voice gentle yet implacable.
“Why?”
“Because you want to.”
She didn’t have an answer for that. She was afraid he was right. And if he could see her energy and read it – maybe it told the truth. She stepped back from the door and made her way to her kitchen table. There she put her purse down against the wall and draped her coat over the back of the chair. “Do you want tea?” she asked.
“Yes, please.”
She busied herself with making the simple pot of green tea and brought the special dragon pot and matching cups to the table. That she managed the simple task swiftly and easily without spilling anything said much for the amount of practice she’d put into this pastime.
She pulled out her chair and sat down. Realizing he still stood like a guard dog watching her, she motioned to the chair in front of him. “Please sit.”
The chair scraped backwards then creaked as he dropped his weight into it.
“Now tell me, what do we have to talk about?”
“Many things, but the important one is why you don’t want to talk about whatever is bothering you. I can’t help until I know what the problem is.” And as he spoke, colors rippled and played throughout the room, around him. So bright. So brilliant. They twisted and turned and expanded with his tone of voice.
She couldn’t help herself – she reached out and grabbed one of the colors. Her hand went right through it. Of course it did. It wasn’t like the colors were solid. They were only energy, after all.
And she froze. They were only energy, after all. How true, and it matched everything that Dr. Maddy had said to her. So it was all just energy.
“Is everything energy? You, me, the ghosts?”
“Yes. And because everything is made of the same things, certain rules apply to everyone and everything. So if someone is bothering you, human or ghost, then there are restrictions holding them back too.”
She stared toward him, her voice quiet as she asked, “Are you sure?”
He leaned forward, his hand reaching out to wrap around her tightly clenched fists. “Absolutely.” He squeezed her hands and murmured, “Tell me.”
She winced, but her gaze once again caught on his hands, the colors wrapping and weaving with her own.
Her own as she’d never seen them before. She wanted to ask him about the colors. Ask him if he was doing it on purpose. They were so much brighter than she’d seen before. If she could only see hers because of him. If such a thing was possible. She didn’t think he could be doing that, but he’d said he worked energy so maybe that was a big part of it. She wanted him to be doing it. In her black world, she was desperate to see anything – and colors were extra special.
Fascinated, she watched the colors move and shift with the energy. She just didn’t know what the energy was that formed it or what the energy wanted to do now that it was out and moving around. She realized his energy was retreating slightly, snugging up tightly against his hands. She wanted to shout stop so the energy would continue to play around her hand, but realized it went with his mood. As did hers, and hers was running back up her arms. Fascinating.
“Celina.”
She nodded, opened her mouth, and explained. “About a year ago I had a horrible multi-vehicle accident with a couple of friends from the orchestra. There were several fatalities. My friends had only minor injuries but my injuries were more severe. I had a head injury, the same that injured my eyes. I had eye surgery to repair an optic nerve and within weeks of waking up afterwards – it’s like I’ve been haunted. I don’t know who this person is or why he’s attached to me. But he says he can do horrible things. And he always tells me to show him. To open my eyes so he can see.”
A shuddering breath escaped. “And I always refuse.”
*
Stefan sat back. So this was the truth. Or at least as much as she was willing to share. It was enough for the moment. He thought about what the voice said. “Do you recognize the voice in your head?”
Her eyes widened, an odd light coming into her gaze. As if thinking on the answer she paused, then shook her head. “No. I don’t think so.”
He nodded and filed that reaction away for future pondering. “No idea who this person is?”
She shook her head immediately. “No idea. I’ve deliberately withheld from asking him very much. He scares me,” she finished, her voice tremulous. She took a deep breath, her fingers locking so tightly the knuckles turned white then blurted out, “He caused the accident at Chico’s.”
“What?” Stefan leaned forward. “How?”
“I don’t know,” she cried. “He said that I needed proof and he’d do something to prove to me that he was there and not imaginary. Up until then I’d been afra
id the voice in my head meant I was going crazy. As long as it didn’t come too often I could deal with it. Hold the fear at bay.” Tears formed in the corner of her eyes. “Within minutes of him speaking the truck slammed into the front window.”
Stefan cradled her hands, his mind spinning with her words. He’d seen some impressive feats of possession and learned the extent of desperation that a soul could go through to continue its existence. But was that what this was all about? And if not, then what was going on?
“You’ve been afraid to tell anyone, haven’t you?” he said, his voice gentle but his gaze intent. When a tear slipped down her cheek, he was lost. He stood and walked around the table to take her into his arms.
She snuggled closer as if she knew that was where she belonged.
Except she likely had no idea. Still, she was scared and needed someone. He was that someone.
For a long moment they stayed where they were, then she pulled away. He wanted to tug her back into his arms but refrained. He didn’t want to do anything to scare her. She was already terrified.
She reached for a tissue, and he was once again surprised at the confidence in her movements. He didn’t think she had any sight available, but if her home life was this comfortable, this secure, how difficult it must be for her to leave this safe space.
He walked over to the tea kettle and plugged it back in. He could use a coffee at this point, but as he didn’t see a coffee maker on the counter he assumed she didn’t drink it on a regular basis. He didn’t either, but there were times…
“You’re awfully quiet,” she said in low tones.
“I’m thinking about where to go next.”
“Maybe you could at least tell me that I’m not crazy,” she said half-humorously and half-hopefully.
“You are absolutely not crazy.”
She brightened. “Really? You aren’t just saying that?”
“No. I have seen some things that if I even tried to explain them, you’d think I was crazy. Believe me, I’m not crazy and neither are you. For anyone outside of this work, it’s too hard to comprehend and they can’t accept any of this. It’s too far out of their scope of realism.”
He walked back to the table and sat down, studying her. “That’s fine for them. It’s not going to work for us. Keeping our eyes closed, blinders on, or just trying to ignore that this stuff exists doesn’t work.”
“I want it to,” she said petulantly.
He laughed. “I did way back when too. Not now.”
“How long have you been doing this?”
He loved how she tilted her head when she asked a question. As if she could hear or sense the truth behind his words. And maybe she could. “A long time. I don’t remember much of my younger years – thankfully it’s all a blank – but from my earliest memories I saw things no one else did. I knew things about other people that others wouldn’t have wanted me to know. I spoke to people who weren’t there and learned early on when to keep my mouth shut.” He worked at keeping his voice neutral and even, but there was something about that intense gaze that told him he’d failed. He shrugged self-consciously. “Before you ask, yes, I was hospitalized for a short time because I hadn’t guarded my tongue. Being young and aggressive I wasn’t much good at following rules.”
She smiled. “I understand. I’m glad you were eventually released.”
He snorted. “Yeah, I learned to give the right answers very quickly.” He didn’t add that it had been the one time he’d used energy to affect another person to do his will. He’d promised to never do it again if he could just get free of that doctor’s control.
It had worked, and he’d never forgotten his promise. He’d never done it again. If it became a choice of life over death he would do so again, but if there was any way to avoid it he’d take it. There was something deadly addictive about influencing someone like that. Given the wrong personality, it was easy to see how quickly and easily it would be to continue doing such a thing to make everything happen the way you wanted it to.
And psychic or energy criminals were the results. He’d been exposed to one or two, but thankfully they were in small numbers. He didn’t think that was what was happening here but he’d learned to not assume anything. Those people were skilled and often desperate. That made them very dangerous.
*
Maddy walked into her office, dropped the last file onto her stack, and had just sat down when Stefan contacted her.
Maddy, Celina opened up. And Stefan filled her in on the conversation he’d just had with Celina.
Maddy sat back in her chair and considered the information. It could be someone who is controlling her – or rather wanting to be able to control her and is frustrated that he can’t. But that doesn’t explain why he’d be able to have made that accident happen. That energy could be from someone deceased… She pondered the options. Or maybe this person could be able to see the future and when he saw the accident about to happen, pressed his advantage home and manipulated her a little more.
I hadn’t thought about that. Stefan’s voice hardened. Can’t say I like games like that, either.
They all play games, Maddy said. Most are innocent, but in this case we need to understand the predator and try to see what he wants.
If he’s not alive then he wants continued existence.
And if he is alive – is he just playing mind games? What does he get out of this?
Maybe watching her spin with emotional turmoil and having her believe she’s going crazy, Stefan said. I hate to think of her being tormented like that. Not to mention believing that she might be responsible for the accident because she couldn’t stop him.
No! She isn’t. Maddy groaned. But it’s so typical of people. She’s very caring. That’s going to be an instinctive reaction on her part. She stared at the painting on the wall in front of her as she thought about the little bit of that energy she’d had a chance to observe. I did sense a strong relationship between this energy and her – a dependency type of relationship.
As if he’s dependent on her for his continued existence?
I’m not sure about that. I just know that there was a strong sense of need on both sides.
I want to read her energy and see who these other personalities are that she’s holding close.
See if she’s willing to release them. They are all draining her system, and she can’t afford to lose that amount of energy.
I’ll talk to her.
I presume you are there with her now.
Yes.
Then be careful. If this entity has a twisted attachment and does have the ability to make things happen, you could become a target.
Stefan snorted. Bring it on.
She smiled as he disappeared from her mind. She wished him well. She liked what she’d seen of Celina. That the woman was full of secrets matched much of Stefan’s life. She doubted he’d shared much of his life with many people. Celina had lots of walls to deal with herself. Chances were good they’d have some interesting times ahead.
And they’d be all the better for it.
She’d seen the energy arc between them. The twisting, eager energy on both sides reached as one for the other. Thank heavens – but there was so much more needed for a real relationship.
She could only hope they’d make it. Stefan was an extraordinary person and he needed someone special just for him.
Celina didn’t want anyone in her life. Or thought she didn’t want anyone in her life. She’d let Stefan in only so far, then those walls would go up and he’d get shoved out.
Maddy laughed. She’d bet on Stefan any time.
*
Brandt hated to be called into work on weekends, but murderers didn’t give a damn. His cell phone rang just then. The ring tone telling him who was calling. He smiled and reached for the phone. Good – she was awake. Hopefully she’d gotten some rest first. With the visions coming one on top of the other right now, she could barely function. “Sam? Are you okay, sweetheart?”
>
“Yes.” Except her voice was faint, almost a whisper. “I just heard on the news something about a stabbing downtown?”
“Hmmm. I heard something about it, but not the details.” He frowned and his voice sharpened. “Why?”
“I think it’s the same thing.”
“Sorry?” Brandt shook his head. “Same thing as what?”
“He was one of the victims – same as the other cases.” She paused then added, “I could feel an ugly burn in my lower belly. Not just a pain but a horrific heat, and the hotter it got the angrier I got. I caught bits and pieces of his thoughts. He was angry at his doctor, at the accident he’d had, at his ex-wife, at his girlfriend who’d just left him and how bad a cook she was and what a wonderful baker she was. How his friend Steven had yet another girlfriend but he was too old, too ugly, too bald to get another girlfriend. And his anger went from his girlfriend to ex-wife to mother to women in general. Then he saw the women. I don’t think he even thought about what he was doing, but he picked up a knife and started slashing.”
Her voice died away, leaving a painful emptiness on the phone. The tears that clogged her throat made him blink the moisture back in his own eyes. She went through so much trauma with every vision. Not to mention the frustration and sense of failure that she couldn’t do anything to stop it all from happening.
“Did you see him actually stabbing anyone?” He clicked on the windows of his computer, trying to bring up anything that would give him the information about the incident. It had only just happened from his understanding.
“No. I jumped out,” she admitted.
“Is there a chance he survived?” He wished the people she connected with would survive these attacks, but she only connected with the victims as they were dying.
“Possibly. I didn’t hang around long enough to find out.”
“And yet he was a murderer in this scenario?” How did that fit anything? He had a large file of disconnected cases now that made no sense. All he had to go on was a mess of unrelated incidences with no similarities. Except Sam.
