Blinded

by Teyla Branton

  That elicited a smile. “At least my family likes him.”

  Which was saying a lot. Her father had begun a thorough background check on Matthew within hours of discovering his name, beating Shannon to it by a matter of minutes. At least we could be sure there were no secret financial woes, convictions, or vindictive ex-wives cluttering up Matthew’s past.

  Shannon was coming back with Peirce Elvey in tow, my favorite of the officers Shannon and Paige worked with. He was a short man with flaming red hair and a penchant for telling jokes. He didn’t treat me with the half-believing, half-patronizing attitude that marked most of the other officers’ interactions with me, so I liked him an awful lot.

  “Hey, Autumn, I hear you were in that explosion. How many of me do you see? Because I always wanted a twin. Triplets would be even better.” Peirce’s expressive grin wrinkled the many freckles on his nose.

  “Sorry, only one. Does Detective Martin have you on babysitting duty?” I rolled my eyes at Shannon, but there was no real bite in the words. Probably because I was having trouble focusing. Good thing I already had heterochromia—which meant my right eye was hazel and my left blue—or the blast might have given me enough of a knock to cause the condition.

  “Looks like I am. You don’t spit up like my son, do you?”

  “No, you’re confusing me with my niece. But if it will make you feel better, I might be able to come up with some baby talk.” I actually still felt a bit nauseated after my stint wrapped in the rug, and I wasn’t all that sure I’d keep down whatever was left of my breakfast.

  I lifted a hand to Shannon. “Okay, I’ll go with your babysitter, but to my shop, not home. And before you can protest, Tawnia’s watching the store for me today, so it’s not like I’ll really have to work. And I won’t be alone.” That should alleviate all his worries. My sister was good at taking care of people—as long as you didn’t expect her to cook anything remotely healthy—or even edible for that matter.

  Shannon helped me up, nodding subtly at Peirce as he walked me to the squad car. Instead of annoying me, his concern made me feel warm inside. Uh-oh. I’d fallen big time.

  “You coming by tonight?” I asked Shannon.

  “Yeah. But I’ll call you in a bit after we talk to witnesses at the house. Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?”

  “Why, so some young intern can shine a light in my eyes, take several X-rays, and then send me home with a painkiller and tell me to rest? You know I don’t like taking pills, and I probably wouldn’t fill the prescription anyway.”

  His brow furrowed. “You have a headache?”

  I did, though I didn’t know exactly when it had started. But the pain was natural, given what I’d been through. What worried me more was the continued dizziness. Maybe both symptoms could be explained by a busted ear drum. I’d have to ask Tawnia.

  “I’m fine,” I insisted. “I’ll just take a nap in my back room. I might not be ready for dancing tonight, but I’m definitely up for dinner—if it’s not pasta again.” Shannon loved pasta, but I hadn’t found an organic variety that pleased me. Shannon, on the other hand, would probably be as happy as my sister with those microwavable noodles in a cup. Ugh.

  “You’re always up for dinner. Oh, that reminds me.” Shannon fished in his pocket and pulled out a couple bills, pushing them at Peirce. “Get her some protein, would you? She’ll tell you where.”

  “I hope that’s coming out of your police budget,” I said. “We’re on the job, remember?” I never turned down food. Ever.

  Shannon just winked at me.

  Without another word, I slid into the back seat of the police vehicle. Pierce’s rookie partner, Mac Delaney, was already behind the wheel, and he nodded at me politely. I could feel Shannon’s eyes on us as we drove off. Though I couldn’t read people the way I could objects, I didn’t need an imprint to tell me what he was feeling. It was complicated working with someone you cared about. When his boss got wind of our relationship, my consulting would probably be limited to reading imprints down at the police station. No more undercover investigating, at least not with Shannon and Paige. After the day I’d had, I couldn’t bring myself to feel sad about that. In fact, I had to stop from calling the captain myself.

  I laid my head back against the seat and listened to Peirce’s running dialogue about life at the precinct. I must have laughed a dozen times, but afterwards, I couldn’t remember anything he said.

  I kept thinking about the rug, the men, the explosion. And about my antique rings.

  Not only was something not adding up, but it was completely wrong. I felt weird, something that couldn’t be explained by dizziness or my headache.

  “Don’t you like some restaurant around here?” Peirce asked.

  I looked up to see that we’d entered the street where my antiques shop was located. “Yeah, Smokey’s. It’s across the street from my shop. But you know what? I’ll send my sister over. I need to lie down.”

  Delaney pulled over in front of my shop, nestled between Jake’s Herb Shoppe and a music store that specialized in jazz. Peirce jumped out to open my door, and I didn’t protest as he helped me from the car. My legs felt better now, almost normal, but my head still spun. Maybe I would have Tawnia take me to the doctor after all.

  “Gotta check it out inside first,” Peirce said. “Just in case. Detective Martin’s orders.”

  I let him go into Autumn’s Antiques first, the buzzing of the electronic bell I’d installed making my head ache even more. Inside, no one was at the counter. Through the interior adjoining double doors leading into the Herb Shoppe, I could see my shared employee, Thera Brinker working at the counter with Jake, but Tawnia wasn’t with them. Or anywhere nearby. I couldn’t feel the connection I normally felt when she was around, as if a string connected from my chest to her, one that thickened to a rope as we grew closer.

  I’d always felt that kind of connection with my adoptive parents, Winter and Summer Rain, and when Tawnia had first shown up in Portland, experiencing it with her had confused me until we uncovered her identity. Before that discovery, I’d hoped I was feeling Winter. That he was still alive. He hadn’t been, but finding Tawnia had dampened my loss, and the appearance of my strange ability on the day of Winter’s funeral had given me a new direction in life.

  “She’s not here,” I said.

  Fear bit at me. Where had my sister gone? My phone was still in the pocket of my jeans, and I hadn’t felt it vibrate, but I’d been distracted. With my chosen sideline of reading imprints, I always worried Tawnia would get involved and be hurt. It had happened before, so I was more careful than ever not to involve her. But we were identical twins, and though I kept my hair short and wore much different clothing, people who didn’t know me well might still mistake her for me.

  Friday mornings were my slowest part of the week, but she wouldn’t have left the shop without letting me know. She worked part-time as an artist for an advertising firm, and that’s one reason why she’d volunteered to cover for me. She could work on her projects in my back room while saving me from having to pay someone to be in the shop. In return, I babysat my niece whenever Tawnia had to go into the office or run errands.

  A heavy feeling lay over me. What if those men who’d taken me from the estate sale didn’t have anything to do with that rug? What if it was personal? I’d ruffled a few feathers in the past year. Someone might want to take out their frustration on my family.

  With a glance at my worried face, Peirce headed toward my back room. “Stay here. I’ll check it out.”

  He’d gone only a few steps when my sister appeared in the doorway behind the counter, her long brown hair smooth and shiny. My niece, Destiny Emma Winn, was fast asleep in her arms.

  I still couldn’t feel my normal connection with her. There was something wrong—something terribly wrong. The very air in the shop felt different.

  “Ah, I thought I heard you.” Tawnia smiled, happy to see me. “How’d it go? Find anyt
hing worth buying? Wait, you probably didn’t since you’re back early. But that’s a good thing because I was just about to call you.” She hesitated, her eyes traveling over my face. “Are you okay? You look sick. And your clothes are sooty.”

  Unlike my twin, who was good at playacting, I’d never been able to hide my emotions. They were always right on my face in plain view. Of course, she’d be able to see my worry.

  “They ran into a little trouble,” Peirce began, “but Autumn’s okay, and I’m just here until they figure out what happened.”

  “What did happen?”

  Peirce opened his mouth, but I shook my head, silencing him. “A couple of guys tried to steal some evidence,” I told my sister. “Shannon and Paige gave chase.”

  Tawnia’s lips pursed. “Yeah, right, and I’m sure that’s the whole story. You know I’m going to get the rest out of you eventually, but right now you’d better come sit down. You look awful.”

  First sick and now awful, words she commonly used around me. My sister needed to learn some new adjectives.

  I stumbled with another bout of dizziness, and Peirce and Tawnia rushed to my side.

  “Detective Martin says I’m to get her some protein.” Peirce’s arm went around me. “But she insisted on coming here first. She said you’d take care of it since Smokey’s is just across the street.” He waved the money Shannon had given him.

  Tawnia blinked at the cash but didn’t take it. “Must have been some imprint if she needs that much food.”

  “Is everything okay?” Our friend Jake came through the doors linking our stores. His eyes, soft and liquid like creamy dark chocolate, showed a gentleness that some might find ludicrous given his muscled chest and the short, finger-width locs that framed his face. He was solid and familiar to me in times of trouble, and I nearly burst into tears at seeing him.

  “Give me your keys, Jake,” I said.

  He blinked once but pulled them from his pocket without asking any questions. I held out my hand, and he placed them on my palm. One touch verified what I’d already suspected. Tears stung my eyes, and I gritted my teeth in an effort to keep them away.

  “No imprint,” I whispered. “I can’t read the imprints.”

  Silence filled the room, though we could still hear Thera helping customers in Jake’s store.

  “Maybe there aren’t any imprints on the keys,” Tawnia said.

  I knew there were. Both Jake and I knew. Mostly they were about his feelings for me. Or his former feelings. Though five months had passed since I’d last touched them, there was no way the strong imprints had faded that fast, and I knew of no way but time and repeated imprinting that could fade or remove imprints.

  Shifting the baby to one arm, Tawnia put her other arm around me in a hug, leading me to the narrow back room that ran the width of my shop.

  “Sit,” she told me before laying the sleeping baby in an antique crib I kept in the corner. My niece—I called her by her first name, Destiny, while her parents used her middle name, Emma—was here at least three times a week, so she’d needed somewhere to sleep. I was the only person Destiny was happy with besides her parents.

  I sank into my ratty easy chair, whose indeterminate color I’d long forgotten, pulling out the footrest.

  Tawnia placed her hand on my forehead. “You don’t feel hot. Look, let’s try this again.”

  Jake already had my parents’ small book of poetry in his hands. I kept it here for emergencies, the comforting imprints on it strong enough to soothe any horrifying image.

  I couldn’t help the gasp of loss as I ran my fingers over the book. I felt nothing. Nothing but dizziness and the headache. No emotions or experiences that weren’t mine. No imprints from my parents. No stories at my fingertips. There’d also been no buzzing of imprints as I’d walked by my antiques on the way to the back room, no connection with my sister, even when she’d put her arm around me.

  I was blind.

  More than a dozen times over the past twenty months I’d wished my ability hadn’t evolved, that I hadn’t developed that part of my brain, but the actual reality was terrible. I’d lost one of my senses—one that I understood now was every bit as important to me as any of the others.

  I shook my head, returning the poetry book to Jake and struggling not to give in to tears. How had this happened? Something in the blast? Had I been deprived of air too long?

  “It’s stress.” Tawnia knelt down by the chair, taking my cold hand in hers. “You read too many imprints, is all. You just need to eat—I’ve got a chicken salad in the fridge. It’ll be okay.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  Jake and Tawnia exchanged stares, and I could tell this news disturbed them more than my not being able to feel imprints.

  I wanted to scream and cry and stomp around, touching everything, but I was too exhausted to get up from the chair. Maybe Tawnia was right. Maybe I simply needed rest. Yes, that’s it. I wasn’t going to let emotion control me. Firmly, I pushed my panic into a manageable pile in the center of my chest where it sat like a cold chunk of rock.

  “I’ll order something from Smokey’s.” That would make me feel better, if any food could.

  “Uh, about that,” Jake said, shooting another glance at Tawnia. “Didn’t you tell her?”

  Tawnia paled, and her grip on my hand tightened. “Oh, no. She looked so . . . I got distracted.”

  “What is it?” Peirce asked.

  Tawnia glanced at the officer and then back at me, her eyes huge. “You have to be able to read imprints, Autumn, especially today.”

  That jerked me from my stupor. “Why?”

  “Because Nicholas Russo was here looking for you. He wants you to read an imprint.”

  “He seemed quite insistent,” Jake added.

  The connection clicked into place. Nic Russo. The organized crime boss I owed a favor. I swallowed hard, unable to speak.

  This was not good at all.

  Chapter 3

  Nicholas Russo was the charismatic leader of an organized crime family based in New Jersey. The group had once been run by his uncle, but because of his uncle’s deteriorating health and the death of his male cousin—or supposed death since Tawnia’s neighbor Dennis Briggs, AKA Damian Franco, was still very much alive—Russo had essentially ascended to the throne and taken over. He was charming, intelligent, attractive, and utterly ruthless. Exactly what their organization required.

  “He’s waiting for you at Smokey’s,” Tawnia added, coming to her feet. “Like I said when you got here, I was going to call you. He arrived when I was feeding the baby, and Jake talked to him.” Her eyes narrowed. “Did you really promise a mob boss that you’d read an imprint for him?”

  It had been my part of the bargain for his promise to let Dennis remain dead to his crime family, but I’d never told Tawnia. Half of me hoped good old Nic would forget my promise. After all, with the birth of his fourth child, his first son, he’d profited by his cousin Dennis’s refusal to rejoin his loving family every bit as much as Dennis profited by getting out of the unsavory business. As far as I knew, Dennis’s ailing father still didn’t know his son was alive—a good thing if even a small portion of what I knew about the man was true.

  “That was kind of dumb,” Jake added. “Promising anything to a mob boss is dumb.”

  “I said I would have to be sure it wouldn’t lead to anyone dying,” I offered in my defense. “I’ll just tell him I can’t do it.”

  This was the only good side to losing my ability, though the rock in my chest said otherwise. That hard lump was growing again, threatening to explode once more into full-fledged panic. Reading imprints had become a part of who I was—a large part. How would I feel hunting for antiques when I would never catch a glimpse into an object’s past? How would it feel never to solve another crime or reunite another missing person with loved ones?

  “Uh, Autumn, you just don’t say no to a guy like Nicholas Russo.” This from Peirce, who fingered the gun at his w
aist.

  He had a point, and an angry Nic Russo wouldn’t be a good thing for me, my friends, or my family. My anxiety ramped up a notch.

  I needed to call Cody Beckett. My biological father and I weren’t close, but I’d seen the crusty old artist several times since our first meeting five months ago, and he’d been forthcoming about his past, our heritage, and his ability—our shared ability. Maybe this had happened once to him. Maybe he knew how to get it back.

  “I think we should call Detective Martin,” Peirce added.

  “No.” Just because I was in love with the man—or thought I was—didn’t mean I was going to let him take control of my life. “I’ll find out what Russo wants first. Then if I need to, I’ll call Shannon.”

  Peirce’s normally good-natured face remained solemn. “Russo might have some connection with that business this morning.”

  “Probably. But he wasn’t part of trying to abduct me, or he wouldn’t have come here.”

  Tawnia gasped. “Someone tried to abduct you?”

  I nearly screamed in frustration. “I was fine. Shannon and Paige were there, remember? Anyway, Russo may have some answers.”

  Jake scowled. “You can’t go see him alone.” Sometimes he and Shannon were uncannily alike, co-captains of the Autumn-needs-to-be-more-careful club, which was irritating, but I supposed their alikeness was also the reason I loved them both.

  “He won’t hurt me. Not as long as he needs me.”

  “What if you can’t give him what he wants?” Tawnia glanced toward the crib, where Destiny was moving, probably awakened by the tension in the room. Grabbing the side of the crib, the baby pulled herself sleepily to her feet and waved at us with a chubby hand, her face stretching into a captivating smile. Tawnia rushed over and swept the baby into her arms.

  I knew what my sister was thinking, that Russo wasn’t above using my family to get what he wanted. But we had something on him too—the fact of his cousin’s survival. If I had to, I would use that information to stall him long enough to talk to Cody about getting back my ability. But since I’d never really betray Dennis or his young family, I wasn’t sure a threat to expose Russo’s lie to his uncle would buy me much more than a day or two.