Black Aura

by Jaycee Clark

  And that decision might just have gotten her…

  He shuddered and raked his hands over his face.

  “Mr. Gray?”

  He paused and looked at the balding, short man who’d asked the question. “What?”

  “Did your daughter—”

  “Her name is Alyssa,” he snapped.

  The balding detective raised one brow, but nodded. “Alyssa.” He cleared his throat. “Did Alyssa ever mention a problem with Mr. Narton?”

  He tried to think. Finally, he shook his head. “No, she mentioned one of the Howard boys not getting the picture. The older one, I think. Thad, the charmer.” Had she mentioned the bookstore owner? And what if they were wrong? What if her disappearance had nothing to do with the damned bookstore? Where was she? “Have you asked Yancey or Narton or whoever the fuck he is?”

  It seemed like everyone took a collective breath. “He’s in a coma.”

  Max couldn’t have heard them correctly. He blinked.

  “Could she have taken off without telling anyone?” someone else asked. Max had no idea who and he didn’t care. He didn’t want to be here answering these questions. What he wanted were answers.

  “Why aren’t you out there looking for my daughter? Why are you here? Just sitting here asking questions? Why aren’t you doing something?” He didn’t want to wait around, he needed answers. He wanted to know where Alyssa was and, damn it, he wanted her home. Home where she was supposed to be. Home where she was safe. Home where he didn’t have to worry about her.

  “Mr. Gray, we realize this is a difficult time for you and—”

  “Someone should be out there looking for my daughter not in here fucking around.”

  Another man pushed away from the wall and walked up to Max. He’d been introduced but Max didn’t remember the guy’s name or rank or even who the hell he was with. Nor did he care.

  “Mr. Gray, this may all seem pointless but the more we know, the better our chances of finding your daughter.” Hard, cold brown eyes stared at him. They were the same height, but this guy was bigger, harder somehow than the others here. “You are our only link to her. We need your help to better understand her. Once we understand her, know her habits, we’ll know her and the chances of finding her increase.” Those eyes didn’t look away from him. “Normally, we wouldn’t even be talking to you until tomorrow, but I’m going to be straight with you.”

  Something bad. It was something bad. He knew it with every fiber of his being.

  “We found a victim…”

  Max didn’t hear anything else, his world stopped, his blood froze and he couldn’t breathe.

  Someone helped him to a chair but he shrugged them off.

  “I’m sorry, what?” he asked, focusing back on the man who’d been speaking to him.

  “The young female was reported missing a couple of days ago. We believe the perpetrator of this crime is someone we’ve been searching for, for some time. The only link we have is that the victim had called a friend to say she was going to a bookshop.” The man sat in the chair beside him and said, “In light of this evening’s events, that your daughter was last known going to that bookshop is of utmost interest to us. We are looking for Alyssa and will continue to do everything in our power to find her.” Those hard eyes gave no mercy. “But we need you to help us do that. You being upset is understandable, being frustrated is as well. However, if you can’t help us, then you hinder us and that we won’t allow.”

  Max finally shook his head and said, “I get it. That makes sense.” He fisted his hands, then flexed them. Fist. Flex. He had to do something.

  “What do you need to know?”

  The man gave him a small smile. “Everything.”

  Lake stared at the ceiling. Someone or something hammered spikes into her skull. God, her head…

  She wished Max was here, but knew he was needed elsewhere.

  Alyssa…

  She shivered as she remembered the way the man had been in her apartment, the way he’d been…so calm, she realized. He’d been so calm, as if attacking her for her power, whatever the hell that was, was the most normal thing in the world.

  Those strange golden eyes, cold as a shark’s, lit with some inner fire.

  “You doing okay?” a nurse asked. What was her name? Betty? Beatrice? Bethany. She was just too damned perky. The woman’s aura was bright yellow, like a sunflower or a bouncing butterfly.

  Made her head hurt even worse. “When can I have some pain meds?”

  The nurse just smiled. “I know it hurts, but just a little longer. Then the doc will be here.”

  Bethany did something with the charts and Lake tried to calm herself. She should probably call Cora, but if she did that, Cora would freak and be on the first plane here. Along with Rogan, who would get all protective and annoying. Friends were great, but she just didn’t want them here and her friends would make things…difficult.

  The lights hurt her eyes, so she put her arm carefully across her face, to shield the harsh lights.

  “What happened to the man?” she asked Bethany, without opening her eyes. “The other person they brought in…the man who attacked me. Is he here?”

  “That coma guy?”

  She opened her eyes and tried to sit up, pain slashing through her skull. Gasping back a moan and cursing her own weakness she asked, “Coma? No, he was brought in with me.”

  “Yeah, well, the guy’s got a brain tumor the size of…” Bethany shook her head. “Don’t you worry about him, honey. He’s not going to be bothering anyone ever again.”

  But Alyssa. Where was she? Did he know? Had he said? She tried to think, to feel, but nothing came. Oh, God.

  She licked her dry lips and said, “Did he say anything? When they brought him in? Did he say anything?”

  She looked from Bethany to the wide picture window that gave a lovely view of the active ER desk beyond. From here she could see the black uniform of a police officer standing outside a door. Was that his room? Who the hell was the guy?

  Bethany tilted her head and checked something else. “Honey, he didn’t say anything, already slipped into the coma when they bought him in. Cops are still guarding him, but he’s in a coma. He’s not saying anything.”

  Bouncy people could be very talkative. Lake figured Ms. Bethany was probably not supposed to tell her that. Then again, this was probably the highlight of the evening, possibly the week.

  Bethany leaned closer over the bed, looking behind her. “Are you feeling better?” she asked softly. “The cops want to talk to you as soon as possible.”

  She wished she had some serious pain meds. “Why?”

  “Something ’bout a missing girl.”

  Missing girl—Alyssa.

  “I’ll talk to them. Though please tell them I’d like someone who knows what is going on, and not to be pawned off on a rookie. I can’t decide if I’m going to throw up or just die from my headache. Neither sounds good and I don’t want to go through it twenty thousand times.” Though she figured she’d have to anyway, whether she wanted to or not.

  Jay looked down at the girl, still and prone on the bed. So pretty. She was always so pretty. He liked her. He’d always liked her.

  He rubbed his hands over his arms. Where was Yancey? Yancey should have been back by now, shouldn’t he? What if he was sick somewhere? What would he do?

  What should he do? Did he go get him and leave the girl here?

  Yancey had told him to stay here, to watch her. So he had. Pretty Alyssa. Strange Alyssa. Yancey had said powerful Alyssa. Did she have power? Power to cure his brother?

  Jay sat down, pulling his knees to his chest, and waited. He waited and he watched. He watched her. She was really pretty and she was always so nice to him. So sweet. She never treated him like he was stupid. Not like the others, not like some who came into the shop and looked at him as if he didn’t know what he was doing. She’d always asked him how he was, if he was feeling fine. If he could help her.

>   And he always wanted to help her.

  He wanted to help her now.

  But his brother…

  Yancey needed help. Yancey needed her power.

  What did he do?

  Jay patted his legs.

  Pat.

  Pat.

  Pat.

  What was he supposed to do? What would Yancey want him to do?

  “Just stay here and watch her.”

  So he was, watching her sleep. Why he had to watch her sleep, he wasn’t exactly certain, but that’s what Yancey wanted.

  Her face was pale, paler than normal. So white in the white room that her hair reminded him of a dark blob. The dark blobs on white the doctors made him look at. Still and perfect just like a doll.

  It wouldn’t stay that way…

  He shook his head. No. No. No.

  He knew what she would look like after Yancey had gotten through with her. She’d have dark marks on that long neck. Beautiful neck. So small, so easy to squeeze. He knew that. Yancey had let him play before. Play with Yancey.

  He shut his eyes and shook his head. No. No. No. He wouldn’t do that to her. Not to Alyssa. Pretty Alyssa.

  Where was Yancey?

  He listened carefully, and could hear them. Just beyond the wall. The wall with the secret panel. Footsteps beat hard against the floor. Voices carried. Some orders barked. Other words were garbled and made no sense.

  But he also heard them calling her name.

  He could turn on the music, but he knew that the music could be heard from this room. He’d heard it before, but then he knew to listen for it. He knew what his brother did when the music played.

  “Alyssa!”

  “Miss Gray!”

  “Can you hear us?”

  “Are you hurt?”

  She wasn’t hurt. He didn’t hurt them. His brother didn’t really hurt them. They were set free. Free… No longer bound by the power.

  “Police!”

  Carefully, so as to not make a sound on the hard floor, he crawled over to her and sat beside her bed.

  The lights shone down on her dark, spiky hair, shiny…soft. How soft? Like silk? Or like the bunny he used to have before he’d let it go.

  Let it go.

  Let her go.

  Keep her.

  Watch her.

  Had to watch her. He reached out, but pulled his hand back before he touched her.

  Soft…

  “Pretty Alyssa,” he whispered. Blood pounded against his ears, his heart thundered, and he simply wanted to touch her.

  Couldn’t wake her up. Shouldn’t wake her up. She’d be upset then and that would never be good. Didn’t want to wake her, wake her, wake her.

  Touch her.

  Touch her.

  Jay reached out, paused and finally touched her hair. Softer, and thicker than he thought.

  He’d never understood why Yancey did what he did. He didn’t ask his brother, not really. Yancey was his brother. He’d always been his brother. Yancey always helped him, took up for him when others were being mean. But he’d always felt sorry for the girls.

  Pretty.

  She was so pretty. He leaned down and breathed deep, inhaled a scent that filled his senses and made him take another breath. He shuddered. Sweet and innocent, reminding him of honeysuckle.

  Memories slammed into him, jerking him back.

  He remembered the first girl, years ago. That scent. No. No. No.

  A heavy southern evening, bathed in late golden light. Honeysuckle vines all around them as his brother squeezed the life out of the young blonde girl. The bees had buzzed, dancing with the late evening dragonflies. So long ago, yet it seemed like only yesterday.

  She’d been soft too. He couldn’t remember her name, but he could see her. And he remembered the honeysuckle.

  Blinking, he finally came back to the white room. The room where Alyssa lay, unbound on the bed. Jay shook his head, trying to clear the images from it.

  He knew the power that coursed through him when his brother killed someone. His brother had been known to let him play. The power was a rush like he’d never known, but he also knew the sickness that ate him.

  What to do? What to do? What to do?

  He wished he knew. Wished he could figure it out.

  Yancey would kill her. Yancey would take her, wrapping his hands around her neck until she begged, her eyes…

  He always remembered their eyes. There was something very strong about the eyes. Eyes were windows to the soul. And if the soul died, he knew you could see it in the eyes. They went flat, opaque. No life. No soul. No power.

  His brother needed power, needed it to heal, to get better.

  If Yancey didn’t get better, he could die. Jay knew that, his brother had told him. He knew that Yancey needed this. Needed her.

  Jay ran his hand over her hair again, softly petting her. Taking another deep breath, he watched as he trailed his hand over her chest. Small breasts, small waist…

  The blood pounded harder inside him.

  Harder. Harder. Harder.

  He wanted her. Wanted her so he could feel that bolt of power that shot through him like it had before when he’d helped his brother, watched his brother.

  But should he?

  No.

  No.

  Yes.

  He glanced again at the door and knew that the police were still out there, searching, hoping to find her.

  But they wouldn’t find her until he was ready.

  Until Yancey was ready. But that shouldn’t be too much longer.

  Where was his brother?

  Yancey needed to hurry, needed to come so that Jay would know what to do. So that he’d know if he was supposed to fix this or not.

  What if the police happened to find them? What was he supposed to do?

  He touched her again, lower than he had before, just below the buttons on her low slung jeans.

  “So pretty,” he whispered leaning over her and pressing his lips to hers.

  She shifted, moaned.

  Jay stilled.

  Where was Yancey?

  The scent of her filled his nostrils and he had to taste her again. This time, he left his lips on hers, soft, firm, cool against his.

  He closed his eyes and wondered if he could take her power for his brother? Then he could give it to Yancey.

  He closed his mouth more firmly over hers and sighed. “Pretty Alyssa. I like you.”

  Lake answered more questions and more questions. She really wanted those pain meds now. Apparently she’d grappled with a deranged man.

  Hell, she already knew that. She hardly needed the cops telling her this.

  Where was Max? She had no clue, but she’d like to know. How was he? Probably not too good. He loved his daughter, he worried about her. He worried about her a lot. He’d be going out of his loving mind.

  Lake should be there for him. She knew that without a shadow of a doubt.

  “Did he say anything else, Ms. Johnson?” the policeman asked.

  She took a deep breath and smelled the stringent scent of cleaning supplies overlaying the pungent scent of stale urine. Perfume de hospital.

  Closing her eyes, she leaned back against the pillow and said again, “No. All he said was that he wanted my power and that I would help him or something. And he said, ‘Alyssa might not be enough’.”

  “Enough what?”

  How many times were they going to ask her the same questions over and over and over?

  “Power, I think,” she told him honestly this time.

  “But what type of power?”

  Sighing, she finally looked at him. “I know you ran me. I know what you think of me.”

  His eyes crinkled at the edges. “Oh, I doubt that, Ms. Johnson.”

  She only stared at him.

  “Well, it’s not every day we come across a…”

  “Aura reader.”

  “Right.”

  “See?”

  He shook his head
and ran a hand over his face.

  “Look, Detective.”

  “It’s actually agent.”

  She didn’t care. “Whatever. I see auras. I have for years and years and yours is…” She dropped her shields and focused. Pain shot through her head and she hissed.

  He didn’t say anything until she met his gaze again, this time her vision was slightly blurred.

  “You were saying?” His salt and peppered brow arched.

  “Damaged. Your aura is damaged. Slashed.”

  He jerked ever so slightly. Those eyes met hers square on. She held the stare and waited. Finally, he cleared his throat. “About Mr. Narton.”

  “I’ve told you all I know.”

  “What was his aura like?”

  She thought back to those moments that she’d tried to read him. No aura…

  “He didn’t have one,” she whispered.

  “What?”

  “He didn’t have one. Blank, black. He had a black aura. Pure evil.” She held his gaze again, expecting some sort of smart-ass reply or derogatory remark.

  Instead, he only narrowed his gaze at her. “There is such a thing as real evil in this world.”

  She snorted. “Really? I had no idea. What with last year and the psycho who almost killed my best friend? The Angel Eye killer?”

  His lips compressed.

  “Yes. I know. Evil is real. Some people use the term loosely, but it’s there. Been there for eons. And it will always be.” Why she said that, she didn’t know, but there it was.

  This time he flipped his little book shut. He’d stopped taking notes half an hour ago. At her bedside, he patted her hand. “Most never see it, never sense it, Ms. Johnson. You’re very gifted.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’ll let you get some sleep.”

  Like that was going to happen. “Agent?”

  He turned at the door and she saw and felt his weariness shimmering brown at the edge of his aura.

  “Where is Max? Mr. Gray?”

  He took a deep breath. “He’s still at the station.”

  She nodded and studied the waffle weave of the thin white hospital blanket. He was there. She was here. And where the hell was Alyssa?

  Commotion from outside her room drew her attention. A gurney was wheeled through another set of doors as medical personnel barked orders in acronyms and numbers that meant nothing to her.