by Jaycee Clark
Lake smiled. “Intuitive man.”
“Yeah. So I guess I know you’re real, but it’s hard sometimes to believe.” Why was that? “I mean, I know I know and yet I doubt. Why?”
“Oh, I’m well acquainted with that confusion.”
“You?” No way. The woman was way too confident to ever doubt anything, let alone herself.
“Yep. Me.”
“How? Why?” Alyssa knew she sounded disbelieving but she couldn’t help it. The doubts drove her nuts. More than the things she saw, or knew, or sensed. The doubt was like a monster that sucked her energy.
Lake gave a half smile, not a happy one, and it didn’t reach her eyes.
Alyssa sighed back into the plush sofa and closed her eyes. “Sometimes,” she admitted. “I can’t sleep.”
“Nightmares.” Lake didn’t question, simply stated.
“Yeah.”
“With our gift come curses.”
“What’s yours? Why don’t you believe?”
“We are a pair,” Lake muttered before standing and walking to look out the window. “I almost got a friend hurt.”
“How?”
“Well, more like killed.”
Alyssa frowned. “Wow.”
Lake took a deep breath, the lines around her mouth tight.
Chills danced over Alyssa’s skin and she could see them now, scars in Lake’s aura that the memories must be bringing back.
“You don’t have to tell me.”
Lake didn’t say anything. “I enjoy men. Not like I used to, and I don’t mind being by myself, and I’m not saying it’s okay to just go out and sleep with anyone,” she added the last and turned to level an adult look at her.
Alyssa rolled her eyes. “I know that. God, you and Dad. You’d think I’d never heard of the S word before. I took the sex-ed classes, thank you.”
Lake’s grin was more real this time, but her aura was dimmed, dimmed greatly from what it had been before. “Yes, well, Simon seemed so…perfect.”
The scars got deeper, darker. “He hurt you. Really hurt you.”
“Not me, no, not really, but he was a very bad man and I never saw it. Never saw it in him. All that darkness.” The last was whispered.
Alyssa shrugged. “Maybe you weren’t supposed to.”
“I guess not.”
“He had a black aura.” She’d read of them, though she’d never actually tried to find one.
“But I’ve seen black auras.”
“I know, but I read this thing, this research some guy did about serial killers and how many of them have black auras, or parts of their auras are black. But the worst were the sociopaths. They didn’t care, there was no feeling, no real—no real…” She trailed off, looking for the right word. “Not enough feelings and emotions to create a true aura. They were so dark, so soulless no one could really read them, or see them, or even sense them. Just that there was darkness. Maybe this person was like that.”
“Oh he was. Never saw him, I felt him though.” Lake rubbed her arms. “Just not at the most important moments. Like when I was with him.”
“Really?” Besides the seriousness of the topic, she found herself very curious.
“Yeah, I felt the darkness, but it was just bits and pieces. Like…scattered confetti or something. I thought, ‘Oh here’s a bad boy I’d like to tangle with.’ Then I started to notice he was deeper than I thought. Just glimpses that wouldn’t tempt me but…chilled me.” She shook her head. “Almost not in time. He took a friend of mine and almost killed her. So, yeah, I’m a little scarred and scared. He was a very bad man.”
Alyssa thought about that. “What if you couldn’t feel him, per se, but the effects he had on your friend?”
Lake sighed. “No, I sensed the danger before he took her.”
“Maybe because he was already studying her?”
“What?” Lake asked, walking over to sit back down.
“Okay, I get the self-doubts you’d have, and maybe you’re right and should have known and seen all. Fine.” Alyssa shifted on the couch, not sure if she should say what she was feeling, but…to hell with it. Sighing, she continued, “But well, maybe it was like his energy was feeding off hers, off yours, and what you sensed was the marks he was leaving in her aura, the scars, like he left in yours.”
For a moment, Lake just stared at Alyssa until she squirmed. Maybe she should just keep thoughts to herself.
Lake’s gaze narrowed as she tilted her head and studied her. A slight frown pulled between her russet brows. “Go on. Please.”
Alyssa started to think about what to say.
“Don’t do that,” Lake said.
“Do what?”
“Think too much. Just say whatever you’re feeling, like you just did.”
Alyssa was working on that in all areas of her life, but she’d weighed her words for so long, it was hard. “Okay. It’s like that study said, right? About the evil being so black, so dark, no one could really, really see them or read them but they could feel a darkness. I thought of it like a black hole.”
“Like astronomy?”
Alyssa sighed, relaxed. “Yeah. I mean, no one can see them. Not really. But they know they exist because of the effects of those things around them. The pull of a force. Ya know? Though unseen, the effects of the unseen are obvious.”
Lake thought about it for a minute. “I never thought about it that way.”
“Why?”
Lake frowned and the woman still managed to look sexy. “I have no idea. I just kept thinking that I should have seen, should have known.”
“Yeah, because it always just works that way and we’re omnipotent.”
Lake laughed. “How old are you again?”
She grinned. “I’ll be twenty next week, though I think Dad’s forgotten.”
“I doubt that. You are top where that man is concerned.”
Alyssa thought about those words. “Maybe.”
“Maybe? What does that mean? That man loves you and most importantly, accepts you. Thinks you like to shock people, but he loves you.” Lake’s eyes didn’t waver from her. “That is a very precious thing. To have parents accept and love you no matter what.”
“Can’t argue that one.” She’d been with her mother for years. Though she’d always love the woman, even with all her moods and issues, her mother had never really accepted her. Mom had always tried to shove her into a box she believed was appropriate.
“You already know that, though.”
Alyssa just nodded.
“So why are you so mad?”
Alyssa smiled. “I’m a teenager, we’re supposed to be moody and pissed at the world.”
Lake chuckled. “Yeah, whatever. You’re too old to be a moody teen. Maybe a moody kid dealing with trauma and the effects of its scars, but not because you’re a typical moody nineteen-year-old. Nineteen-year-olds are past the moodiness generally and passionate about changing the world and politics.” She shook her head. “Youth is exhausting.”
“I don’t really care about politics.”
Lake’s energies rippled again across the air and through the normally peaceful home.
“So you’ll talk to me? Teach me stuff?”
Lake just looked at her. “I think the teaching may be two way. And honestly, I think you just need more confidence.”
“That’s what my shrink says.”
For a minute, they both enjoyed the silence. She wanted to ask Lake about the other night, but didn’t know how. To hell with it.
“You felt him too, didn’t you?” Alyssa asked.
Lake held her stare. “Yes.”
“He’s evil. He’s powerful. He’ll hurt me, if he can.” Why she felt that, she wasn’t sure, but she did. She knew it.
Lake’s mouth tilted ruefully, her expression more in agreement than in contradiction. “Not if we don’t let him.”
“No, not if we don’t let him.” Alyssa sighed. The words sounded good, but she knew sometimes there
was no stopping fate. That inner knowledge warned her that he—whoever he was—would hurt her.
7
He waited and watched. He wanted her. The need to have her soon was consuming him. But he’d have to wait. It wasn’t the right time and if anything still worked inside of him, it was his gut, that whisper of instinct that still called to him, that inner voice hissing that this was not the time to take her. Waiting would be better.
He nodded as he thought of her. Her image floated into his thoughts. Her soft skin, that scent that was both woman, yet still with a hint of child mixed in. Heady stuff that.
She knew. She actually knew he was present. There had been one other who had known he was watching, waiting, moving in… He’d taken him from Colorado after he’d tracked the boy down through the internet. The transfer had released the young man’s power after he’d taken him to dinner. That one had been fun all around, different, as it had been a boy instead of a girl, but the charge had been there.
Pain bit deep inside his skull. He rubbed his temple, but it did no good. Time marched through him, through his being, like a giant clock.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
He had to have her soon, but not too soon. He wanted to stretch it out, enjoy it, have fun with it. And he would. No one would know. No one would suspect, and those who did, the girl and the woman—pretty, that one—would hardly be listened to.
There was power in disbelief and that power aided his cause.
He smiled. There was a bright side to having issues like his. Abilities like theirs were real, but few believed, and even those who claimed to believe rarely put stock into it.
To play and bring the power onto a higher level? Emotions fed power and the rush…
Desire thrummed through his body and he wanted, needed a release. But damn it all if he could actually have one. The meds took too much from him.
He wanted his life back.
He would have his life back. No matter how many he had to take. No matter how long he had to hunt. If he had to move at some point, fine. He’d moved before. Granted, never for this reason. But desperate times called for desperate measures didn’t they?
He took another deep breath and thought of her. Her short dark hair all mussed, those gray eyes flashing fire, anger and hope.
Hope.
That emotion alone was almost hotter at times than all others. In the end, as her essence became his, which emotion of hers would cover her? Or would she be a mixture of many?
Either way, he knew without a doubt her transfer would be the greatest of all.
The rush ran through him just at the mere thought.
Soon…
8
Max paced back and forth, his mind not even remotely on anything dealing with the gallery. He had an appointment in—he checked his watch—shit. Now.
He walked from the back office into the main area of the gallery. Where was the one o’clock?
Lake.
Had he handled that situation wrong?
No.
He had a damned right to protect his daughter.
Yes. Okay, maybe there had been a better way to handle that situation.
His issues? She’d accused him of painting her with his own issues. What the hell had that meant? Okay, maybe he had done just that.
Lake wasn’t Shannon. Shannon had meant well, and God knew the woman had tried but even before Alyssa had moved here, he’d known he and Shannon weren’t a long-time item. There simply was no way he could picture it, and he’d never been able to put his finger on just why.
But even after Shannon, there had been others who he’d simply known were trying to get to him through his daughter. The first shrink Alyssa had gone to here. When Alyssa knew the doctor wasn’t going to work for her, the therapist made her move on him. The woman was also a sex therapist. He shuddered. Then there was the lady who’d worked in the Wiccan shop last summer—what had her name been? Something that started with an N. Hell if he could remember. After two dates she’d told him how she could really help his daughter.
Lately, his dating track sucked.
He scrubbed his hands over his face and looked across the street. There out on the deck above the coffee shop stood his daughter and Lake. What had they done all day? Since he hadn’t heard from either of them, let alone had he seen his daughter, they’d apparently spent the morning together. Probably had lunch too. Girl talk and God only knew what else. Whatever they had done or were doing, they appeared to enjoy each other’s company. Currently, they were talking, then Alyssa threw her head back and laughed.
He frowned. How long had it been since he’d seen her do that?
He had no idea. Had she ever done that with him? No, not to his knowledge. And he seriously doubted she’d ever been able to do that with her mother. But she was laughing with Lake, and if she was laughing with Lake, that meant she was at ease with her.
There was food for thought.
Hell.
Maybe both of them were right and it had nothing to do with him.
For now, he’d just watch them. His daughter had been through too much, had too much heartache already to be put through anymore. No matter who it was from, he wouldn’t stand for it.
But if she could connect with someone…
The bell over the door clanged as a kid no older than his daughter walked through the door.
Max sighed. Not another art student? Kid probably was. He really hated to disappoint the kids. They had this idea that if they couldn’t make it in Taos, they’d have a piss-poor chance at making it elsewhere, which was stupid. Art was subjective.
Taos had its own style. Customers both local and visiting had an idea of what they’d find in a Taos gallery, and he was also a businessman. So even if the art spoke to him, unless he knew he could sell it, chances were he’d turn them down and try to explain it all to them. Sometimes he was successful, and sometimes he wasn’t.
Please don’t let this one be a crier.
“Mr. Gray?”
“Please bring your stuff over here.”
The kid shoved a pair of wire-rimmed glasses up his nose and placed his large attaché case on the side desk below the lights in front of the windows.
Max hated and loved this part. Would this be something he’d want?
Or something he’d hate?
The anticipation was almost like…
He glanced through the window across the street. Lake now stood alone on the second floor and she was staring across the street at him.
He lifted his hand though he knew, from the shadows cast by the portico that lined this set of shops, that she’d never see him.
Apologize whispered through his mind.
Yeah, he’d have to do that. Groveling would probably be involved. He hated groveling.
“So what do you think?”
Max took a deep breath and looked down.
Not what he was expecting. He gave the black and white photos more attention.
They were not the normal door or windows, mountains or wildlife the locals normally went for. Clean lines and bareness that was known as the Santa Fe style. Nor was this guy trying to imitate O’Keefe. Thank God. Max had lost count of O’Keefe wannabes.
These were still shots of people. Here in Taos. The local flavor was still there. With the lighting and location there was still that feeling of bareness and clean lines, but it was subtle. The people were drinking coffee, talking on patios. Walking and holding hands at night, in the evening. He picked up the next one, which had a group of friends laughing at a street corner and waiting to cross while the man in the background was selling ristras.
The flavor of Taos was in local landmarks clearly seen in the photos. The people, though, made the photos come alive, and the lighting, the shadows gave the photos…something. An essence. A life. He grinned and flipped to the next one. He glanced at the kid, who had paled. Max held his tongue.
“No Sangre de Cristos?” he asked, wondering
where the one mountain shot had to be.
The kid shrugged. “I figured you see enough of those. I have a few, but it’s always in the background.”
“People-watching, huh?” He flipped to another of lovers under an arch, lit by the street light behind them.
He was rarely impressed. He gave the kid more of his attention. “I’m sorry, what was your name again?”
“Jonathan Murbanks.”
“Murbanks.” He nodded. “I think we’ll just say these are Murbanks. A sign in black and white. Or black and gray, to keep with the theme of your photos.”
“Wow. Really? Really?” The young man’s face lit with relief, excitement and laughter. And when he laughed, Max realized he wasn’t so young after all. Strange.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-six.”
Not so much a kid, no, but still young with life.
“You look nineteen, or twenty.”
“Good genes.” Dimples pitted his cheeks when he smiled.
“Something.”
They looked through the photos again and he picked the ones he really wanted to showcase first, let Jonathan choose a few more and then made another appointment for him to bring by other prints. “When you bring the next batch, we’ll decide which ones to enlarge.”
That tingle ran through his system that he’d found something, was onto something. He’d found another one.
Max smiled and felt good for the first time all morning.
“Thank you, Mr. Gray.”
“Who else turned you down?” he couldn’t help asking.
Jonathan’s mouth screwed to the side. “Well, I figured this was where I wanted to showcase, so I’d come here first and then see what happened.”
“Confidence.” He motioned to the photos. “It shows.”
“Hey I need—” Alyssa strode out from the back office and stopped. She stood staring at Murbanks for a full ten seconds. Max looked at the artist he was going to sign to see what the guy thought and—oh hell.
Jonathan’s eyes had widened and then he smiled. “Hello.”
