Possessed

by Stephanie Doyle

  Granted, his arms weren’t moving very fast and his intent wasn’t actually to hit her so it wasn’t a great test, but she did feel more confident.

  “Good start,” he congratulated her. “I think that’s enough for today, but we’ll come back tomorrow. For now you can hit the showers.”

  Cass glanced down at herself. Her sports top was damp with sweat and there was a fine sheen of it all along her skin and she knew her hair was plastered against her neck. Turning her head, she caught a glance of herself in one of the spotted mirrors. With the tape still around her hands, and her muscles more pronounced through both the effort and the gleam of sweat, she looked rather tough. Almost indomitable. For a woman of her size, that was quite a feat.

  Malcolm stood behind her and she could see the intensity of his gaze reflected in the mirror. “Like I said before. There’s steel underneath. We’ll come back again.”

  Yes, she decided. She would come back again.

  “You ready for a shower?”

  She looked at him over her shoulder with a dubious expression. “Oh, I know you don’t think I’m taking a shower here.”

  Malcolm smiled. “No. Mostly because they only have men’s facilities. We’ll take you home and get you cleaned up.”

  The word home stood out in her mind and she felt the perverse need to correct him by telling him his home wasn’t her home. She opted to ignore the phrase and take the offer at face value. After all, she smelled and she really wanted that shower.

  The next morning when she came downstairs, there was a pair of boxing gloves waiting for her on the kitchen table next to her toast, orange juice and a plate of scrambled eggs. They had gone grocery shopping together the night before. Technically speaking it had been their first date.

  “You’re going to spoil me.” She smiled, looking down at the small, red, overly cushioned gloves.

  “Please don’t say anything as corny as ‘you couldn’t possibly,’” he teased. “It would make me happy if you accepted them.”

  Cass considered the state of her knuckles. They were red and still slightly swollen from yesterday’s activities. Which meant today was only going to get worse. “I’ll take them,” she said. “So long as you understand that my affections can’t be bought.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Especially with boxing gloves.”

  He chuckled and they headed out again to Hank’s Gym. This time, there were a few more men lifting weights, but none spared Cass more than a cursory glance. She had no doubt that a woman’s presence in this gym was a strange thing; she just got the impression that very little rattled these men. Malcolm worked on her technique and added a few basic kicks to her repertoire of moves. Within an hour, she was making him miss and making him gasp anytime she connected with his midsection.

  The door to the gym opened, sending a bolt of light inside, reminding everyone it was a bright fall morning. An immediate tension filled the place. Two of the men who had been simultaneously curling a fifty-pound weight while staring at their bulging muscles in the mirror suddenly stopped. Cass watched their attention stray to the door.

  She turned, curious who the new visitor was and was surprised to see Dougie’s tall frame. That explained the tension. She had no doubt that several of Hank’s regulars would rather stay clear of the law. Dougie’s badge, clipped to his belt, shone like a beacon of light throughout the space. Johnny went so far as to head for the shower room.

  Dougie spotted Malcolm and raised his chin. He walked over to where they were standing and saw that Cass was sweating profusely.

  He saw the gloves and shook his head. “Going for the super lightweight class?”

  “Funny.”

  “I thought it might help,” Malcolm told him.

  “It might.”

  “You have news?” Cass wanted to know. Dougie had called Malcolm’s cell earlier looking for them.

  “Not great news. The New York connection didn’t pan out. The DNA found at that scene didn’t match our guy. Or I guess I should say our girl. The lab came back on a hair sample we found. There was a trace of a strawberry extract, probably residue from shampoo. I don’t know a lot of guys who use a strawberry-scented shampoo so for now we’re going to work that angle. The fact that it is in all likelihood a woman trigger anything with you?”

  Cass used her teeth to untie the laces on her gloves, then pulled them off by wrapping her arm around the opposite hand and tugging. “No. Should it?”

  “Maybe you heard about someone asking for you. Maybe down at the coffeehouse.”

  Cass shook her head. “No. Nothing. But then I’m never really sure how my name gets around. It just does. Either way, the coffeehouse would be the last place anyone would look now. I was fired a few days ago.”

  “Why?” Dougie asked.

  “You were fired?” Malcolm asked. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Not much to tell.” Cass shrugged, not understanding why Malcolm was so annoyed at the news. “An upset widower, who turned out to be a murderer, came looking for me. He scared some customers before I could disable him with a stun gun. The manager figured it was bad for business.”

  “That’s not right,” Malcolm said. “It wasn’t your fault. I can fix that.”

  “No, you can’t, because it wasn’t wrong of the manager, either,” Cass stated. “He’s got a business to run, and I freaked out the help. It’s not the first time it happened.”

  Dougie, however, seemed especially annoyed. “This isn’t good.”

  “I’ll find another job. Seriously, it’s not that big of a deal.”

  “That’s not what I meant. I was hoping…”

  His voice trailed off and Malcolm stared at him, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. “You were hoping what?”

  “Look, we have no more leads. We know this girl is probably not from around here if the train ticket is any indication. You’ve got Cass tucked away in the mansion and that’s great. But our killer is going to do one of three things-track down some other psychic somewhere and kill her, give up and leave, in which case we might never find her, or eventually she’s going to find a way to get to Cass. Let’s not wait for her to act. Let’s bring her to us instead. We do it this way and we’re the ones in control.”

  “I can’t believe you would even think it,” Malcolm said coldly. “You know what she did to Lauren. To that other woman. I’ve told you myself how the monster affects Cass. How it hurt her.”

  Cass, who was slightly worn down from the intense workout, shook her head to clear the cobwebs and concentrate on what the two men were saying. Dougie was frustrated. Malcolm was angry. It all added up to a crazy sort of sense.

  “You want to use me as bait.”

  “It all comes back to you, Cass. Each death. If we can set you up someplace where this person can find you, it might be all we need to draw her out and set the trap. Maybe we can’t stop the psychic thing, but if we nail her and put her ass in jail, that means no more monster for you, right?”

  “No more monster for me,” Cass repeated, thinking that there was something she was missing. She pictured what the beast looked like in her head and thought about the figure in the hooded sweatshirt. How he or she had frozen each time Cass had gotten close.

  The answer was there. Just beyond reach. She just needed to think about it a little longer.

  But then Malcolm was moving to stand between her and Dougie. “You’ve got to be crazy if you think I’m going to let you risk her life like that. It was one thing for her to be at the funeral in case this lunatic happened to show up. But you’re talking about dangling her out there like some kind of carrot. It’s too dangerous.”

  “You mean it’s only convenient to use her when it might serve your needs, McDonough.”

  Malcolm clenched his teeth together. “What would serve my needs right now, Detective, is for you to…”

  “Malcolm…”

  “No,” he cut her off. “He wants to use you. Again. This time it would be your
life at stake. I won’t allow it.”

  Dougie’s face turned hard, harder than Cass had ever seen it. “Maybe you shouldn’t talk about things you don’t know,” he said coldly.

  Cass moved around Malcolm until she was once more between them. “Stop it. I need to think. I don’t know what I want to do yet, but I can promise you both it will be my decision either way.”

  “Tell that to your new lover boy, Cass. Looks to me like he’s sort of a control freak. First he moves in on your life. Next thing I know he’s moving you into his place. What’s next-daily readings from your sister’s ghost? Is that what this is about, McDonough?”

  Cass felt Malcolm jump, but given her position directly in front of him, it wasn’t like he could reach Dougie. Dougie took a step back, his hard gaze still pinned on Malcolm.

  “Think about it, Cass. Think about it long and hard. Until we end this, you’re not safe.”

  “Excellent,” Malcolm sneered. “You can’t do your job and find this person, so let’s scare the victim into offering herself up. You’re a real hero, Detective.”

  “I don’t owe you any explanations. Call me when you’re ready to do this, Cass.”

  He turned and left, and the atmosphere, which was thick with heat, sweat and tension, returned to just heat and sweat.

  “Can you believe what he’s asking you to do?”

  “Yeah, I can believe it,” Cass said, tying the gloves together and flopping them over her shoulder. “And I’m going to do it.”

  Chapter 17

  “I don’t suppose I get a say in this.”

  Cass leaned back and let Malcolm work the shampoo deep into her hair. Ironically, it, too, was strawberry scented. He’d picked it up at the grocery store just for her.

  “I let you have a say. And look how right you were. Taking a bath together is much nicer than just taking a shower together,” she answered, deliberately misinterpreting him.

  “I’m serious,” he growled.

  “I’m serious, too. I want this done. I would think you would want it done, too.”

  “I want Lauren’s killer caught. Yes. Crazy me for wanting that and you safe at the same time.” He tilted her head back and filled his palms with water to rinse out the shampoo.

  “But I won’t be safe until this is over. Eventually, I’ll have to go back to my place. It’s only a matter of time before she would find a way to track me down there. Dougie is right. Better that we do this on our terms.”

  “Why do you have to go back?”

  Cass stilled as she felt the tension gather in his muscles. “Malcolm.”

  “You think I’m rushing things.”

  “Think?”

  “Okay.” He sighed. “I’m rushing things. It’s just…It’s been nice.”

  Cass couldn’t argue with that. “Yes. It has been. But a few days aren’t real. A week isn’t real.”

  He reached around her body and clasped her hand in his. She felt his thighs brush either side of hers, felt his sex start to nudge a little more insistently against her bottom and felt the swoosh of chest hair along her back. Her heart picked up speed as the now familiar rush of sexual heat churned through her system.

  “It feels real,” he whispered in her ear before lips claimed the spot right below it. “Maybe you don’t want to admit it, and maybe it happened too fast, but there’s nothing fake about what’s between us.”

  She tilted her neck to give him better access down the column of her throat. It did feel good. Good to be in his arms, good to feel safe in this house. Good to be touched. No, it was more than the touching. It was the connection. This was what she had wanted so desperately the night of her grandfather’s funeral. Not just a cessation of the pain, but also some assurance that she wasn’t alone in the world. It’s why Claire’s intrusion, even when she hadn’t understood all the ramifications of it at the time, had been so hurtful.

  “I don’t know what’s real anymore,” Cass confessed. And that was the truth. She couldn’t tell anymore the difference between the people who cared and the people who merely wanted to use her. Yes, Dougie wanted to use her as bait, but she knew that was only business. Yes, Malcolm wanted to protect her, but to what end?

  “I’m real.” He pushed his hips against her and she smiled at the physical reminder of just how real he was.

  She could lie back in his arms, let him make love to her, stay with him here in this house and what? Live happily ever after? It didn’t seem possible. Not because it was Malcolm, but because being happy on a permanent basis wasn’t something Cass had ever figured into her future.

  How depressing was that?

  A tingle ran down her spine and, for a second, she mistook it for a zing of desire produced by Malcolm’s creative mouth. But the familiarity of the sensation took over, and Cass felt herself mentally withdrawing from him into her white room.

  The door opened and she braced herself for the pain, but this time there was surprisingly little. A mere jolt. Lauren’s face shimmered in the mist, and she was smiling.

  You can be happy if you want it. You make him happy. That can make you happy, too, if you let it.

  Cass had an irrational desire to talk back to the voice in her head, but quashed it. There was no point in arguing with a spirit, and she had to figure that Lauren was slightly biased when it came to her brother.

  I was afraid to leave him alone. I was afraid he would isolate himself completely. It’s right that he found you. Right that you found him, too. You’ll see. Let me say goodbye.

  And that’s when it changed. All of a sudden, Lauren was inside the room with her, a place only the monster had come before. This encounter wasn’t violent, but it was just as disturbing. In her mind Lauren was holding on to her hands. In the bathtub, Cass was turning, craning her neck so she could see Malcolm.

  Her mouth opened and she felt herself saying goodbye before she could stop herself.

  Instantly the room in her head was gone, but it was too late. Malcolm jerked back in the tub, causing water to slosh over the side of it.

  “What the fuck…”

  Cass couldn’t speak. She didn’t want to speak. She wanted out. Trembling despite the warm temperature of the water, she lifted herself out of the tub, stepping over him in her haste.

  “Cass, what just happened?”

  Cass reached for the towel and circled it around her body like a shield of armor. She heard another splash behind her, but she kept moving. She needed clothes, she needed her things, she needed her cats.

  “Talk to me.”

  “No,” she muttered, stepping into a pair of panties and a bra that she’d left on top of the bed.

  “What did I do?” Malcolm raged.

  “Nothing. You did nothing, but don’t pretend you don’t know what happened.”

  She didn’t bother to glance up. His silence was enough of an answer.

  “It was weird. It wasn’t you,” he whispered, his voice shaking. She imagined that was to be expected, considering he had just spoken to his dead sister. Or rather she had spoken to him.

  “No. It wasn’t.”

  “She was saying goodbye.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Cass snapped. “It doesn’t matter what she said-it’s what it means. I can’t do this. I can’t be with you when I know she’s there. Waiting for whenever the hell she wants to make contact. To take control and use me like some kind of puppet. I won’t allow it.”

  “You would have to have known Lauren to know she wouldn’t do that. If she did what she did it was just to say goodbye. I think she’s gone, Cass. Permanently. I felt it.”

  “You don’t know that.” Still on the move, Cass pulled on her jeans and shrugged herself into a sweater. Malcolm was standing in the bathroom door, naked and wet. Perfect. Except he wasn’t. Not for her.

  “You’re not leaving.”

  “See, that’s how well you still don’t know me. Of course I’m leaving.” She searched for and found the duffel bag she had used to bring her clothes ov
er. Stuffing into the bag everything she had neatly laid out on the chair brought with it a certain satisfaction.

  “It’s too dangerous. You want to be mad at me, for what, I’m not sure-fine, but I’m not letting you go with that nutcase still on the loose.”

  “You don’t have a choice.”

  “I absolutely have a choice,” he roared. Cass felt him rather than heard him come up behind her and whirl her around to face him. The bag dropped on the floor at her feet and she was once again reminded of his temper.

  “What are you going to do?”

  The question was clearly a taunt and a not-so-gentle reminder of what he had done to her not that long ago. She watched the anger drain immediately from his face only to be replaced with a measure of shame. For that, she felt somewhat guilty.

  “Still don’t trust me?”

  “It’s not that.” She sighed, suddenly weary of all of it. “Let go of my arm.” He dropped it. “I’ve got to go. I have to. I’ll call Dougie as soon as I get home. I’ll have him set up the trap. He won’t let anything bad happen to me. I know it.”

  “So it’s back to him.”

  “It’s not back to anything. I can’t stay. Being with you opens me up to her and I won’t have it. I should have known better, but I didn’t.”

  “Lauren’s gone. I know it even if you don’t want to believe it. This isn’t about her, anyway. This is about you and whatever the hell it is you’re afraid of. Your grandfather really messed you up, didn’t he? What he did to you-that’s why you can’t believe that every man isn’t out to use you. Isn’t it?”

  He didn’t understand. It wasn’t the fear of being used that drove her; it was the loss of control. Being committed to the asylum had been worse than jail because she hadn’t done anything wrong. She’d simply been herself. That feeling that her life wasn’t hers to live had never left her.

  Turning herself over to some spirit would be the same. The loss of self wasn’t something she could give up again, and she was willing to sacrifice anything to protect herself against it. Including giving up the one thing she had missed the most: connection with another living soul.