Throbbing like a sore tooth, Cassaundra Reynolds pulled off highway ___ onto Meander Road

by Susan Shay

  “Good thing, too. Now, what about before I left the booth?”

  Her gaze stayed riveted to his for a moment, before drifting away as she considered his words. “The look on your face, but even before it registered...” With an awkward grin, she shrugged.

  He decided to play dumb. “What? My body language?”

  With a small nod, she tried to pass off his questions. “Your body language, the look in your eyes, the hair standing up on your neck, the mad-dog growl coming from your throat—all of it was a real loud clue you weren’t a happy soldier.”

  Catching her hand, he pressed further. “It was more than that, though, wasn’t it?”

  Shock, then disappointment, washed across her face before she jerked her hand from his. Clamping her mouth tight, she blinked twice, as if trying to sort through her thoughts. Did she think by touching her hand, he was hitting on her? Was she pretending to be coy? Like she was some kind of virgin as well as being a great psychic? He almost laughed at the thought. The woman must be at least thirty. Hell, she’d have to be the oldest virgin in Texas to pull off that one.

  Cassie knew the surprise of his touch a split second before the glimmering took over, practically blinding her in the near-dark room. Fighting the nausea caused by what she’d seen when Keegan touched her, she slid from her chair. “I’ve got to-to go.”

  Keegan cocked one eyebrow. “What is it? Why have you got to go?”

  She swallowed back the bile rising in her throat, then, trying to calm herself, took a deep breath. What was happening? His touch, so hot it tingled, filled her with a shower of flickering embers—not what she usually experienced when something bad was about to happen. But as he’d tightened his grip, she’d seen something ugly hiding deep within him. Something painful. And, for her, something very personal.

  Keegan planned to hurt her.

  “I...just...” She paused as Miriam rejoined them.

  “What is it, Cassie? Aren’t you feeling well?” Miriam reached out as if she was about to touch Cassie, then picked up her glass at the last moment instead.

  Once more Cassie swallowed, then shook her head. “No, I’m not feeling well at all. You two stay. I’ll get a taxi.”

  “In Stone Hill?” Concerned, Miriam shook her head. “You know we don’t have taxis in Stone Hill. I’m ready to go home anyway. Aren’t you, Keegan?”

  Her vision finally clear, Cassie found her purse under the table, then slid the strap over her shoulder. She was careful to keep Miriam between her and Keegan as she climbed into the backseat of his car. The last thing she wanted was to go through the stomach-churning experience of touching—or being touched by—him again.

  ****

  Pressure, sanctified and powerful, grew inside the Anointed One of God until he had to force the air from his lungs—the first sign that the Father was about to speak. And without question, he knew he must listen. Long used to hearing the Lord’s voice and following orders without question, he knew the time to prepare was now.

  And he knew for whom he prepared. The harlot of Babylon. The witch of Ein Dor. The Bible, the final authority, demanded a witch not be suffered to live. He must obey. He must obey! The choice was not his.

  Disobedience, ancient but unforgotten, darkened his mind, and a heavy miasma dulled his vision. He tore the shirt from his back, then knelt to dedicate his body—once more a working sacrifice.

  As he bowed in supplication, the thickened skin on his back pulled tight and searing pain branded him as once more, the child, too young to understand, disobeyed. Strong hands held him to the scorching discipline, scarring so that he would never again forget. The words chanted again and again through his mind. You must obey. You must obey. You must...

  Slowly drawing a breath, he lifted his head. No longer was he the child being taught obedience. At long last, he’d become the instrument of the Father. The instructor. The guardian. And it was his duty to see to it that the children in his care stopped sinning before it was too late.

  The word came down—As Eve tempted Adam to take of the apple, as Bathsheba tempted David from her rooftop to fornication, she must be purified. She must be sanctified. She must be made holy, as I am holy. Now arise and walk.

  Throwing off all remembrance of the past, the Anointed went immediately to his ablutions in order to remove any taint from the world. The night was deep. The moon dark.

  Time was fleeting.

  ****

  After the incident at the bar, then a long and restless night, Cassie’s day at the bookstore had been long and restless as well. Although they didn’t plan to have another chess tournament for several months, many of the retired men who’d participated in the last one stopped by for a series of impromptu games, which kept her busy in the coffee shop. Much to her consternation, Keegan stopped in several times during the day to sit at the big table and chat with the men. And while the improved business was part of Miriam’s reason for the tournaments, Cassie was beginning to wish it hadn’t worked quite so well. She would have liked at least a moment to rest.

  “Have you taken your break this afternoon?” Miriam asked, surprising Cassie as she cleared a table of dessert plates.

  Forcing a smile and hoping she didn’t look as tired as she felt, Cassie shook her head. “We’ve been too busy today.”

  “Well, go now. Keegan can do a few things around here besides shoot the breeze with these guys.” Miriam shot her brother a sharp glance. “You’d think he was running for office, the way he laughs at their old jokes. Honestly.”

  Cassie turned away so that Miriam couldn’t see her face. Of course he laughed at their jokes. He was one of the guys. Not as old or crotchety, but they all were ruled by the same driving force. And for this moment at least, they were a brotherhood.

  Unlike women, who were constant in their friendships, men often went with the ebb and flow of the emotions surrounding them. Funny thing was, they had no idea why they did it. And if anyone tried to tell them it was an inborn psychic ability all men possessed, everyone of those present would have laughed out loud.

  Women, on the other hand, used their psychic ability to touch deep inside those around them, reading them and getting to know how they would react to a given situation. Then, when their realizations were so obvious that they couldn’t be ignored, it was called intuition.

  Now she could sense the ability in others. Before she’d received the second sight, she’d never once thought about having the gift, but she’d been only thirteen when it happened. And after that, during all the testing, she’d learned more than she ever wanted to know. Too bad there was no changing the past, because given the choice, she’d do it in a heartbeat.

  Carrying the tray of dishes to the kitchen, she took off her gloves, and with a smile as Miriam starting rinsing, headed for the office. It was the only place she could take a break and still watch the front in case a customer needed help.

  After fifteen minutes alone, she was better, almost as good as if she’d indulged in a power nap, and was ready to get to work. When she arrived back at the coffee shop, she saw the men had once again changed seats. Now Mack played one of the men whose name she didn’t know, and Vernon, who’d played earlier, sat at the round table, drinking what must be his fifteenth cup of coffee.

  “How do you do it, Vern?” she teased the old man. “If I had half the caffeine you do each day, I’d be awake for a week.”

  “Aw, girlie, it’s from all those years of being a lawman.” He smiled as he spoke. “You learn to drink anything short of pine tar to stay alert when you’re pullin’ a long night. Then after awhile, you get to need it, like a hophead needs dope.”

  “Or an alcoholic needs beer?” Mack added with a wink for her.

  “Yeah, like an alky needs beer.” Vernon glared jokingly at the man. “If you paid as much attention to your game as you do when I’m conversin’ with a purty girl, you might be a half decent player.”

  “Must be why you won’t accept my challenge when you’re at the
board,” Mack shot back as he moved a man and removed one of his opponent’s. “Because I’m half decent, and you’re afraid you’ll get beat like a dead horse.”

  Vernon narrowed one eye. “Ha! I don’t play you because I don’t want to embarrass you in front of your friends. Especially the ladies.”

  As the bantering continued, Miriam came out of the kitchen. “I finished up in here, so unless I’ve missed something, there shouldn’t be too much more to do tonight.”

  “I wouldn’t have minded finishing it myself,” Cassie answered.

  “I sort of enjoy it every now and then.” Miriam lowered her voice to a murmur. “When you get the guys run out, all you’ll have to do is wash tables. Don’t bother vacuuming tonight. I’ll make Keegan do the whole store tomorrow to pay for his supper.”

  Heartened to see Miriam smiling again, Cassie nodded. Pushing the industrial sized sweeper really should be a man’s job, but since there hadn’t been a man available, except for Steve, who was worse than useless when it came to manual labor, the pair of them always took turns.

  After Mack finished his game and the group of men left, Cassie hurried to the kitchen for the spray cleaner and a cloth. Cleaning tables as she went, she worked her way around the room until she came to the players’ table. Spotting a lost chessman on the floor next to the wall, she pulled out a chair and sat down to reach it.

  A bolt of light struck close, cutting into her eyes and blotting out everything surrounding her. At the same time the explosion crashed too loud, too near, shoving her back in the chair as if someone had pushed her, then echoing with such excruciating accuracy that she covered her ears in defense. The world of the bookstore disappeared and she strained to see by the dim starlight.

  The wind blew lightly, bringing with it the faint hint of a dying barbeque. She found she carried the deadweight with surprising ease. Deep inside she felt a sense of accomplishment. Contentment. Dark joy.

  With a self-satisfied smile, she walked around the pool three times, while quoting scripture under her breath. Then finally, after gazing for a time at heaven, she leaned over the pool and set the body she carried adrift. Almost as an afterthought, she cupped water in both hands and dribbled it on the woman’s head. “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, amen. Sleep...in perfect peace...my child.”

  Her vision cleared and she was back in the bookstore. Unable to remain upright, she collapsed on the table, her heart aching at what she’d seen.

  Forcing herself to remember, she thought back to the vision. There were deeply grooved marks on the wrists and ankles where they had been tied. And there was something more. A memory. One that didn’t belong to her, but threatened to open in her mind. She couldn’t allow that to happen.

  Please, God! Don’t let this recollection come. I don’t want to see Sharon Buttram’s death. I don’t want to see the way she died. I don’t want to watch her suffer and not be able to do anything about it.

  Fighting the hysteria clawing at her throat, she fled to the front of the store. She had to be around someone—anyone—just so long as she wasn’t alone. Alone, the memory might ripen and become her own. Alone, she might experience the unimaginable and for a time become the murderer.

  Hurrying into the office, she shoved the half-closed door so hard, it banged into the wall, probably denting it. Miriam turned to face her, the phone at her ear. “Uh, I’ll have to talk to you later. Yes, I will. Good-bye.”

  Cassie hesitated, unsure what to do or say. How did you tell someone you were worried you were going to live someone else’s memory of committing a murder? Even a friend who’d experienced some of her lighter psychic occurrences might not understand. After all, she wasn’t sure she understood it herself.

  “What’s wrong, Cassie?” Miriam asked, hurrying to her side. “You look as if you’d seen a ghost.”

  “She looked like she was being chased by one when she ran in here,” Keegan added from the doorway.

  How could she explain? They would think she was losing her mind. And maybe she was. “I-I thought I saw something near the kitchen that frightened me,” she answered lamely.

  “You’re pale as a sheet.” Miriam took a step toward her, concern scooping her eyebrows high. “What was it?”

  Keegan’s gaze jerked from Miriam to Cassie. “Dammit, Cassie. What’s wrong?”

  What had she started? Why hadn’t she learned to control her emotions after all these years? “Well, I didn’t actually see anything.” Anything real, anyway.

  His eyes narrowed and, deeply serious, he eased toward her, stalking her as a cat would a mouse. Her heart raced as he neared. He knew something or he wouldn’t be acting in such a way. Had she cried out without realizing it? Had she blurted something that he could construe as a psychic act, that he thought might help him in his mission to tell the world about her, then prove she was a fake?

  “What, exactly, did you see? A man? A mouse? A vision?” On the last word, his voice dropped to a whisper.

  Forcing air into her lungs, she swallowed hard so she could answer. “You know, come to think of it, it probably was nothing at all. A mouse, maybe. Or a shadow, caused by the shifting light.”

  “What light?” Keegan tipped his head toward the window.

  As she followed his gesture, she saw that the sun had gone from the sky. She’d missed its descent and twilight. How long had her vision lasted? How strong was the emotion she’d found on that table? Or had it been in the chair, or maybe on the chessman?

  Thoughts exploded in every direction. How many people had been in the store that day? How many had been in that particular chair, touched the table, the game piece?

  She thought back. It seemed as if each man playing chess had been in that chair at least once during the day, as well as Miriam as she chatted with Mack over lunch, and Keegan when he accepted a few pointers from the group.

  Could she sort through the mountain of information coming to her mind? What if the killer had been in the store yesterday, not today? She’d been at the front register all day, so she had no idea who’d been there. How long could an emotion remain viable?

  Briefly closing her eyes, she almost chuckled in exasperation. As far as she knew, no one had ever before suffered having this kind of knowledge. How would she know? How could she find out? And, if anyone else had experienced it, why would they tell?

  Opening her eyes, she glanced from Miriam to Keegan. Worry wreathed both of their faces, even though Cassie’s eyes couldn’t have been closed more than a nanosecond.

  Were they employing natural psychic abilities or had she telegraphed her feelings so clearly? What was she going to do?

  Keegan leaned his shoulder against the office wall and watched the show Cassie was putting on for Miriam. Oh, maybe she was doing it for his benefit, too, but, thank God, he was too savvy to be taken by such an amateurish display. Closing her eyes to gain strength was beginner acting, straight from a high school play.

  Didn’t she know he’d debunked the best? He’d seen the great and mighty Boz, the minister who’d bamboozled his parents, turn water into wine. He’d seen him raise the dead. Hell, he’d seen the man execute the biggie—walking on water.

  Of course, with a little scientific help, he’d been able to explain every “miracle.” Chemicals explained changing the water to “wine.” Making the dead walk had shown off the talent of the actor and the usefulness of pharmacology.

  The most difficult to explain had been the day Boz walked on water. But when Keegan returned to the lake after the crowd left, then himself taken a walk on an acetate runway lying a scant inch beneath the water, he’d been disappointed he hadn’t guessed immediately.

  Boz’s secret had been to have all the edges of the clear platform curved downward so the water wouldn’t expose the squared off ends—and remembering where it lay and how long that first step had to be. The most painful part for Keegan had been when he whacked his shin on the platform as he waded out into the water. And his parent’s
wrath when he’d published his series of articles on the man.

  Had a set of parents been too dear a price to pay for knowing the truth?

  Cassie sent Miriam a pleading look. “You know how my imagination can get away from me. I’m certain now it was nothing, so let’s just drop it. Please?”

  “But you don’t look well,” Miriam said with a light touch on Cassie’s arm. “Why don’t you let Keegan drive you home?”

  Something akin to terror flashed across Cassie’s face as she shot a glance his way. “Oh, no. I c-couldn’t impo—”

  “Tell you what,” Keegan interrupted before she could refuse. “Let’s get Miriam to mix us a couple of her special caramel chocolottas, I’ll drive you home, and then if you’re feeling better when we get there, you can invite me to supper.”

  Eyes wide, Cassie looked at his sister. “But Miriam is probably expecting you to have supper with her.”

  Miriam spoke up before he could answer. “Oh, no, I’m not! I, ah, have something to tend to.”

  He could tell by the look on Cassie’s face that she wanted to challenge Miriam’s words, but couldn’t bring herself to imply that her friend was a liar. Good. Nice people made his job easier. But in all honesty, he’d never before debunked a “nice” person. Nice was usually reserved for the people surrounding the frauds. The unlucky stiffs who’d been tricked. “Well, all right.”

  While Miriam mixed up her highly flavored concoction, Keegan helped Cassie shut off the lights and checked to see that all the entrances were securely locked. After accepting the Styrofoam cups from Miriam, Keegan followed Cassie out the front door, then waited with her until his sister locked the door. After being sure she was secure inside the bookstore, he followed Cassie to his car.

  But she wouldn’t get in. “What about Miriam? She’s safe for now, but what about later?”

  Looking down her slim form, he gave her his best slow smile. “I’ll come back and take her home, if whoever she was on the phone with doesn’t beat me to it.”