“Gone too long? What do you mean?” His eyes burned, and he knew he was moments away from crossing the finish line to complete exhaustion.
“If they are dead too long, I can’t help them. No matter what great things they were meant to accomplish.”
Harmon’s chin began to tremble. He’d never come close to getting this much information in the short time she’d lived at the estate. “How long, Heaven? How long do you have before they are gone forever?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
“How do you do it?”
“I wish I had more answers for you. “ She shook her head in resignation. “Somehow, someway, a feeling overcomes me. After that, I remember nothing.”
“Do you realize the risk? Each time you bring someone back, they’ll talk. Someone will see or hear too much.”
“Risk?” She gazed deep into his eyes. “It’s about a life, not about risks. If they have an unfulfilled purpose, they will come back. I can’t let a person die who was destined to do great things.”
He took a slow, deliberate drink from his beer and thought for a moment. “You’re changing the future, Heaven.”
“Only in a good way. Maybe, there are not enough good people left out there in your big world. Don’t you see?”
“Someone will always try to take you away. Is this what you want? You did a good thing for the child at the hospital, but you’re putting your own future in danger.”
He watched her as she gazed at her wrist. Perfect and slender, her skin satin smooth, showing no signs of the disfigurement she’d suffered only two days ago. She said nothing, but was apparently deep in thought, as if a distant memory was tickling the back of her mind.
He finally broke the silence. “How did you heal your wrist?”
She stared at her arm and chuckled. “Sleeping, I guess. I didn’t even know it was healed, until the nurse took the new cast off almost as quickly as she put it on.”
He laid his hand across hers. “I don’t want anything to happen to you, Heaven. The incident tonight only solidifies how much I care about you, as I would if you were my own sister.”
She smiled. “Tommy and I had a good laugh about you wrapping yourself around my ankles.”
“You’ve come a long way from the spiteful thing you were only a few days ago.”
“I try. Why have you never married, will no one have you?”
He laughed, and finished off his drink. “Because I may wind up with a daughter like you.”
“Talk to the hand.” The moment he stared at it, she playfully smacked him across the head.
He gazed at the counter and studied the tiny chips of seashell scattered beneath the glaze. Glowing prisms of color shone brightly, but they were forever entombed within the cold resin. He brushed his finger across the shells, yet he already knew he would not feel them.
The shells were like Heaven. She’d wind up a prisoner from the crazies in the world, someone who’d need protection from those who wanted to exploit her. In the wrong hands she cold be forced to bring evil, dangerous people back to life. He shuddered at the thought.
She gazed at him and smiled. “Harmon? Mind if I go to bed? I’m really tired.”
“Sure, goodnight.” He looked up to smile at her, but his smile froze in unbelievable horror. The instant he laid eyes upon her, an unseen demonic force flung her backwards off of the barstool. It was as if she’d been struck in the chest. The blow hurtled her through midair like a rag doll tossed from a car window. She was no longer earthbound, she was a feather caught in a wild gale spinning madly away.
He heard himself screaming, but his mouth never opened. He leapt from the chair after her and slid on his knees across the slick floor, hoping to catch her before her skull cracked open on the unforgiving tiles.
He landed face first, thrust his arms out and stopped her head the moment before it shattered into a million bone fragments. As a broken egg might have, sizzling into oblivion in an over heated frying pan.
“Heaven? For the love of God, are you all right?”
Her blank eyes gazed at him, but she did not see him. She stared beyond him, out the window deep into the night sky. She watched the stars swirl and spin, weaving their story to her in cosmic dust from a million galaxies away. She blinked with sudden realization, finally understanding their cryptic message.
She gasped, and choked back a sob. “He’s dead Harmon. Bice is dead. Take me to him, now!”
“What do you mean? What the hell happened to you?”
She sat up, and grabbed him by the collar. Her eyes were enormous orbs. “Dr. Killmore shot him, shot him dead. Take me to him, now!”
* * *
Tommy drove home smiling, thinking of his wonderful evening. Well, almost wonderful until his dad screwed it up.
Heaven had taken it all in stride though. Plus, he wasn’t worried his dad would ever pull a stunt like that again. The fear in his father’s eyes was obvious as Heaven repeatedly slapped him. Not because he abducted her, but because he’d caused her to loose her tiara. She sure knew how to take care of herself. He once again touched the crown on his head.
He couldn’t wait for school Monday. Maybe if the football jocks kept being nice to him, he could play on the team one day. Or maybe, he’d run for student body president.
His thoughts were interrupted by the unmistakable sputtering and coughing of his car’s engine. He pressed the accelerator down, urging it on. The car responded with another cough, and a final sigh.
He studied the gas gage which now glowed bright red. He was out of gas. He realized he’d forgotten to get fuel, in his excitement to pick Heaven up for the dance.
He pounded the steering wheel and sighed, as the car coasted to a sputtering stop. He glanced at his watch. It was three in the morning. He didn’t dare call his dad and wake him. Not to mention, the man probably didn’t feel very well at the moment.
He stepped out of the car, and rummaged in the trunk for a gas can. He soon found what he needed, and stomped off into the darkness.
* * *
Hawk heard the unmistakable sound of gunfire the moment he stepped out of his car.
He had no doubt of the sound, his career as a bodyguard had taken him to many seedy places. He’d once protected those who were on the wrong side of the law. But that was years ago. He’d moved up since then, protecting the rich and famous from fans, not pissed off drug dealers.
He walked from behind the driveway trees, and crossed the front lawn. He quickly came to a stop as a realization washed over him. His skin pricked to the core. He was being watched. He gazed at the quiet house. It was too dark to clearly see it, much less a person who might be lurking in the fog.
He moved back to the shelter of the trees and quickly stepped from tree to tree, watching the silent house for any sign of life. He wondered if the gunfire had indeed come from within the dwelling. There was certainly no one outside to be seen.
He came upon Bice’s car at the top of the drive, and peered inside. The keys still hung silently in the ignition, silently waiting for the return of their owner. He walked to the front of the car, and felt the engine hood. The car was still warm, apparently he hadn’t been at the physician’s house long. He gazed around again, but Bice was nowhere to be seen. The estate was chillingly quiet. Unnaturally quiet.
He’d grown up on the streets, run with gangs, fought for his territory and stared into the face of death more than once. He’d stolen food to bring home to his mother and sister, often ducking from flying bullets shot by angered grocers.
He could feel it in his bones. Something was wrong. The sound of the gunfire must have come from the house itself, not beyond it, nor from a nearby gang. If Bice were in that house, there would be lights on. The porch light would certainly be on, or maybe the front hallway would be lit up and perhaps a nearby room.
He was close enough to hear shouting, or at least loud voices if Bice were inside. But the house on the hill stood silently dark, as if a black canvas had en
veloped it, hiding the evil within.
He gazed from behind the tree again, squinting deep into the darkness. Toward the left of the home, he spotted what appeared to be an odd lawn statue. He stepped from behind the tree, carefully watching the home for any signs of movement.
He studied the object on the lawn, daring to take a few steps toward it. He ducked low and crawled silently through the grass. He’d use the object for cover, which would enable him to scour the area behind the dark home. Gasping for breath, he finally reached the object and ducked behind it.
He immediately recoiled in horror. It wasn’t a lawn chair, nor a fountain. Not a statue, not anything other than a body. He fought for his breath, and turned the lifeless form over.
“Bice?” He jerked his hand back as if he’d been stung by a swarm of angry wasps. In the gloom, he could see something black was dripping from his hand. Warm, sticky and black. He gazed closely at the substance. He cried out in horror. His hand was covered in blood.
“Bice!”
The man laid still. His eyes stared back at Hawk, their empty depths reflected by the moonlight, shining white against the darkness behind them. Blood covered the front of his chest, dripped down his side and slowly spread across the black grass beneath.
Hawk choked back a sob as he realized his friend was dead. He hadn’t cried since he was a child, the day they told him his daddy had died. His salty tears fought for release. But he could not cry, he would not cry, for God’s sake he was a grown man, he was a bodyguard of the rich and famous.
But the tears came anyway. He lay on the lawn and sobbed, oblivious of any danger which may still lurk. He no longer cared. He finally rubbed the burning tears away, and gazed at his friend’s silent body.
He knew what he must do. He lifted Bice’s arms, and grasped him around his chest. He gently drug his lifeless body across the lawn, toward the cover of the trees. He would not leave his friend alone and sprawled out on a lawn as a macabre ornament. This is not how Bice would go down. The man would get the dignity and respect he deserved. He was not some forgotten object cast aside to rust as the seasons came and went. He was a damned good man.
He was halfway across the lawn when he heard the sound of rustling leaves in the distance. He froze in place, caught between panes of a fading dream and reality. He fought to wake from what surely must be a nightmare, trying to squint through the darkness.
A darkened figure was walking out of the death fog toward him, with planned purpose and determination.
He was carrying a rifle.
* * *
Harmon ran to his car, pulling the sobbing girl behind him.
He flung open the passenger door, and shoved her in. He didn’t like the idea of her being in the front seat of his car, but there was little choice. If something started flinging her around again, it could cause him to drive off the road and kill them both.
He handed her the strap. “Put the seatbelt on.”
She jerked away from him. “No. I hate those things!”
“Heaven, you’ve got to cooperate for once in your life.”
Without giving her a chance to argue, he reached over, and buckled her in. He only hoped it’d hold. He thought about it a moment longer. He tore his belt from his waist, and wrapped it around the seat across her hips. He buckled it snugly and twisted it until the buckle was behind the seat.
Heaven glared at the musician. “What’s all this?”
“I don’t need you flying out the window, like you did in the kitchen.” He rushed to the driver’s side and leapt in.
He threw the car into reverse and screeched into the night.
* * *
Chapter Twenty One
Tommy was tired, damned tired. He’d been walking for what seemed like miles down the lonely canyon road. Out of desperation, he’d finally given in and tried to call his dad. Just his luck, he could not get a signal from the depths of the canyon from hell.
He knew there was a gas station somewhere ahead. He couldn’t remember how much farther it was, everything looked different in the darkness of the woods. Walls of trees lined each side of the road, expensive estates lay hidden behind.
Out of the darkness, the roar of a car approached. He whirled around the moment the headlights had him in their sights. The car was powering straight at him at a deadly speed.
He leapt from the side of the road the instant the car sped by. The wind from the vehicle nearly knocked him off his feet.
“Dumb ass!” He cried toward the retreating taillights, waving his gas can wildly in the air. “Watch where you’re going!”
The roaring sports car screeched to a stop, as burning rubber from its smoking tires filled his nostrils. It roared in reverse at him, and again he found himself diving out of the deadly machine’s way. Whoever the idiot was who was driving it, was hell bent on killing him tonight.
“Tommy?” Harmon stuck his head out the window. “What the hell are you doing out here?”
“You could have killed me!” Tommy approached the fiery red car. “This is what I’m doing!” He shoved the gas can into Harmon’s face.
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“I can’t get a signal in this bottomless hell. Better yet, why don’t you take some driving lessons?”
“Never mind. Get in the car, there may be a problem at your house. I’m heading there now.”
Tommy peered into the small car, noticing Heaven in the passenger seat. “Harmon, the car only has two seats.”
“Shit. I forgot.” Harmon leapt from the car. “Crawl in and sit between us, hurry.” He shoved the teenager onto the center console, leapt in behind him and sped off onto the night.
“What’s going on?” Tommy cried. The gearshift was stuck between his legs. He was crouched over, and was forced to press his face against the dash in an effort to keep his head from hitting the roof of the car. Plus, a maniac driver was at the wheel. “Why is Heaven looking so spaced out?”
“She had some sort of a vision.” Harmon’s bloodshot eyes remained fixed on the winding road. “Bice is in trouble, I’ll explain later.”
Tommy glanced at the speedometer. The car was quickly racing up toward one hundred ten miles per hour. His blood froze in his veins, as a visual fleeted through his mind of what his body might look like hitting a tree at that speed. There’d be nothing left of him but a piece of beef jerky.
He shook his head clear, and glanced at the girl beside him. But the trees behind her caught his eye. They whipped by in the distance, one melted into the next until they were only a blur of wood and leaves. His belly began to churn.
“I think I’m going to barf!” He cried.
Harmon glanced at the boy. “I can’t stop this car for you to puke, hang your head out the window. This is a three hundred thousand dollar car, don’t you dare barf in it!”
Tommy stared at the crazed musician. “You idiot, I can’t get to a window!”
“Hold on.” Harmon pressed the button on his dash, which slowly began to raise the convertible top. “Oh shit!” He gazed in horror at the reflection in the rearview mirror.
He pounded the button madly, hoping to bring the top back down. Realizing his mistake too late, he could only watch helplessly as the fine Italian leather was ripped from the sports car in the oncoming rush of wind. The twisted mass of steel flew backward and bounced away into the darkness behind them, scattering fiery sparks as it skidded across the pavement.
Tommy moaned, as the last of his color drain from his face. He gripped the dash, fighting to hold back the bile as it quickly rose in his throat. Beads of sweat formed on his hands and arms. His entire body shook as he fought the waves of nausea, but it was determined to overtake him. He knew at any moment the entire car would be covered in puke. Harmon would have his ass.
“Tommy.” Heaven suddenly seemed to come back to reality. “It’ll be all right.”
She put her hand to the boy’s head. In seconds, the teenager’s breathing slowed and the color returned
to his face.
Feeling much better Tommy sat up straight, now that the top was no longer a bother. He shook his head, and stared in disbelief at the girl with aquamarine eyes.
* * *
Hawk continued to drag Bice, watching the man with the rifle slowly gaining on him. The fog hung in wisps, thin patches were slowly building into an opaque mass.
There was nowhere to go, and nothing to duck behind. He’d be damned if he left Bice’s body out here alone in the night. He also knew he couldn’t outrun a bullet. So he’d play the game, this game of chase.
He determinedly dragged his friend toward the driveway, although he wasn’t really sure why.
* * *
Harmon whipped the car around the last curve. They were only minutes away from Tommy’s house.
He didn’t know what the hell was going on, but what he did know was Heaven had been thrown across the kitchen by an unseen force. Whatever she’d seen or felt happened to Bice, he would take seriously.
Now, he had a big problem on his hands. The physician knew too much. He would talk to the press, or maybe to anyone who would listen. Soon the pressure would be on him to let them study her. They would take her away.
He glanced at the dazed girl. Her eyes bored into the dim night. Big deep eyes, almost bottomless in the dark shadows. He’d be damned if he let anything happen to her. Or, to Bice.
He punched the accelerator and whipped the car into the driveway. Before he could react, he slammed into the back of his Limo sitting quietly in the physicians driveway.
The night air filled with a reverberating crash.
* * *
Dr. Killmore watched as the big man dragged Bice across his expansive lawn.
It was hopeless, and the bodyguard knew it. Yet, he wouldn’t give it up and drop his friend to make a run for it. The bodyguard stared right at him, showing no fear. He was unfazed by the rifle glittering through the fog. He determinedly continued his impossible mission, slowly making his way to the cover of the vehicles.
There was one problem. The girl was gone. One last bullet lay in the gun’s chamber, and he planned to use it. After he reloaded, he’d get the girl and put the odd musician out of his misery. They would be free of her excess baggage and could then be free to leave the country. He would take her to a place she’d never be found.. Finally, he would complete his studies on her.
The Girl With Aquamarine Eyes Page 23
