by Jo Ramsey
I glanced toward the elevator. The ceiling lights penetrated the darkness, and I took a couple of steps in that direction without intending to do so.
I stopped, faced the other direction, and almost screamed. Pieces of darkness like octopus tentacles floated at the far end of the hall, pointing toward a door I could hardly see.
With each step I took, my body grew heavier and harder to move. A desperate yearning to lock myself in my room until morning stopped me halfway down the hall until I pushed it to the back of my mind. I kept walking. No matter how terrified I was, the person in that room at the end of the hall needed me.
The walk couldn’t have taken more than a minute, but it seemed so much longer. The dark strands stuck through the second-to-last door on the right. I didn’t hear anything, even when I pressed my ear against the door. That didn’t mean the room was empty.
This was probably going to be the stupidest thing I’d ever done. Even stupider than setting Gene’s friend on fire. That had been self-defense. I’d known all too well what the guy would do to me if I didn’t stop him.
My powers gave me no clue as to what was going on in the room or what I should do. My choices were to stay out of it or barge in. If I barged in, I might end up hurt too. If I stayed out of it, whoever was in there would be hurt, but I’d be safe. No one would ever know I hadn’t helped.
No one other than me. I would know I’d walked away from someone in trouble, and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. Even when I was little, I’d told Mom about the things I’d “just known” so I would feel as if I’d tried to make it better. She hadn’t believed me most of the time, but I’d done what I could.
I had to do what I could now. And that meant going into the room.
My heart sped up, and I took as deep a breath as I dared. I stepped back from the door a little and knocked. I still heard nothing inside the room, but I sensed a hesitation. Someone in there didn’t want to be disturbed.
I knocked again. “Hello? Room service?”
The door opened a tiny crack and a woman peeked out. She was kind of young. Her eyes widened in her skinny, pale face.
The darkness wrapped around her like black ropes with strands of blood-red shooting through it. She was afraid, but not in danger. The red blackness told me she was hurting someone else.
She only feared someone catching her.
“I didn’t order anything,” she said.
“Are you all right in there?” I tried to see past her, but she hadn’t opened the door wide enough and was blocking the small opening.
“Who the hell are you?” She started to close the door.
I shook my head. I wasn’t the one being threatened here, so I had to control my firepower. Then again, if the door became hot enough she would let go of it, and I’d be able to go in.
I stopped struggling against the ball of flame and heat trying to push its way out of my head. My brain opened like a door; I couldn’t describe the sensation any other way. My hands grew so hot I almost couldn’t stand it, and I grabbed the edge of the door.
The woman yelped and let go.
I shoved past her and ran to the bathroom. Whoever was in trouble was there. The light was on and water was running in the tub.
Before I saw it with my eyes, my mind showed me what was happening. Two little kids, one barely across the line from baby to toddler. Both in the tub.
Both not breathing.
Behind me, the woman sobbed. She tried to grab me, but with the heat rushing through my body, she couldn’t touch me. Frantically trying to shut off my heat, I ran to the tub, which was close to overflowing, and reached into the water.
I yanked the kids to the surface. Blue lips. Closed eyes. Skin so cold I wasn’t sure if they were even still alive.
She’d tried to kill her own children. For all I knew, she’d succeeded.
I grabbed a towel and wrapped the kids in it together.
Their mother kept crying. She wasn’t trying to stop me or anything, just standing in the doorway sobbing so hard it seemed as if she would never stop.
I carried the kids past her and laid them on one of the two beds. The phone was across the room, and I didn’t dare to turn my back because for all I knew the mother would grab them and throw them back into the tub. But I had to call for help.
Besides, the mother hadn’t moved since I’d run into the bathroom. Sorrow and panic hung off her like a blanket, and strands of those emotions, blue and jagged purple, stretched through the darkness. A thick sludge filled my mouth and nose where those strands touched me. The mother stared at the floor, and her chest barely rose and fell with her breaths. She wouldn’t be likely to do anything else to her kids now that I was there.
“Turn off the water,” I said.
Without bothering to see whether she followed my order, I picked up the phone and pressed zero. The guy who’d checked me in answered. “Emergency in room four-oh-two,” I said. “Two kids almost drowned. Or did drown. Call an ambulance.”
“Wait, what?”
I hung up. He’d understood me, at least enough to do what I’d said. As long as an ambulance showed up quickly, the kids might make it.
I sat on the bed beside their tiny bodies and tried not to look at them. If I didn’t see, I could believe they were alive and would be okay.
The water was still running in the bathroom. The mother hadn’t bothered to shut it off. If the tub hadn’t overflowed yet, it would in a second or two. I was not leaving those kids to turn it off, because I still didn’t trust the woman.
“I told you to turn off the water,” I said.
She gulped a couple of times, and her eyes widened. I stared at her. My hands started heating up again, and part of me really wanted to touch her. To make her hurt for what she’d done to her kids. My own mother had been bad enough kicking me out of the house, but I was sixteen and could sort of take care of myself. And she hadn’t tried to kill me.
I didn’t even want to try understanding someone who would do this.
“Turn off the damn water,” I said for the third time. “You’re going to flood the hotel, and then everyone will be in here and will see what you did.”
This time I added a little mental push to my words. She scurried into the bathroom, and the water stopped.
Someone pounded on the door. I still didn’t quite dare to leave the kids, but I doubted their mother would answer the knock, so I got up and went to the door. I didn’t waste time looking through the peephole, just opened the door.
The guy from the front desk and a bigger guy in a security uniform stood in the hall. The desk clerk looked surprised. “This isn’t your room. And your clothes are soaked.”
“State the obvious later.” I stepped back and motioned them inside. The mother cowered in the bathroom doorway. Now she was really scared, and that pleased me. “She tried to drown her kids. They’re on the bed. I don’t know if they’re okay or not.”
“Shit.” The security guy took a radio off his belt and spoke into it as he strode over to the bed. “Two children. Female about three years of age. Male infant, possibly one year of age. Possible drowning. Get cops and emergency medical services here as fast as possible.”
He turned to glare at the mother. “Someone make sure she doesn’t leave. I’m going to try CPR.”
My job was done. At least, I hoped so. I wouldn’t be able to stand being near the woman much longer. I had to leave.
I moved toward the door. The desk clerk—his name tag said Brent, now that I was close enough and cared enough to read it—put his hand on my arm. I jumped but got myself under control before anything happened.
He didn’t notice. “You found them. The police are going to want to talk to you. I don’t even understand why you’re in this room.”
“Just lucky, I guess.” I leaned against the wall. I had no way to explain what had happened. “Just knowing” wouldn’t cut it, and I didn’t want to tell Brent about my psychic powers.
I definite
ly wanted to avoid the police. They would have a whole bunch of questions, including who I was and why I’d come to Denver. Questions I wouldn’t be able to answer. I had to avoid talking to any authorities at all.
“I haven’t had anything to eat,” I said. “I can’t talk to anyone if I’m so hungry I can’t think straight. Give me a break.”
The mother leaned against the bathroom door. She was finally quiet and stared at the floor with completely blank eyes. Maybe her brain had snapped. If I’d wanted to, I could have found out, but just the thought of poking around in her head made me sick to my stomach.
“Take his name,” the security guy said between breathing into the older kid. “The cops can talk to him later.”
I let out a breath. I might have made him speak up because I was so desperate to get out of there, but I didn’t care. He’d given me a chance to leave, and I was thankful for it.
“Kellan McKee, right?” Brent asked.
“Right.” I’d given him my name when I’d checked in.
“Go ahead.” Brent glanced at the mother. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”
I nodded and left the room, trying to keep a bland nonexpression on my face to hide my churning stomach and racing thoughts. How could anyone do that to their children? The question repeated in my head, but no answer came.
As soon as I was in the hall, the strands and sludge of darkness and fear dropped away. The loss of their weight was so sudden I almost fell. A laugh burst out of my mouth, and I didn’t know why. At the same time, tears trickled down my cheeks.
I ran from the darkness and pain and from my own out-of-control emotions. I had to get away. My legs shook so badly I didn’t know how I could stand, let alone run, but I ran anyway. I had to get as far as possible from that room.
Chapter Three
I WALKED out of the hotel and almost collided with a cop leading a pair of EMTs into the building. They didn’t notice me, thank God.
A couple of blocks from the hotel, I found a steak and burger place. I chose a table as far from the door and windows as possible, in case anyone came looking for me to talk about what had happened at the hotel. The waiter barely paid any attention to me other than to take my order, and I stayed there eating, drinking, and pretending I was somewhere else, until I didn’t have an excuse to stay any longer.
When I got back to the hotel, the emergency vehicles were gone. A flock of news vans had replaced them. I hadn’t realized a woman trying to drown her kids in a hotel would be newsworthy, but the reporters’ presence made sense in a sick kind of way. The news liked to report the worst of everyone.
I hoped they wouldn’t try to talk to me. We didn’t get the Denver news in Arizona unless it was something big, but this might be considered big enough. The news was one of the only things Gene allowed the family to watch on TV. If they saw me, they would know where I was. That wouldn’t be good.
I went inside. Brent had returned to his spot at the front desk. He motioned me over. “The police are still upstairs trying to put together what happened. And waiting for you.”
“I left over an hour ago,” I said. “They should be gone by now.”
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “The kids are at the hospital, and their father’s on the way. I guess they’re from out of state. The mother’s still upstairs. The police are having trouble getting her to tell them anything. I have a lot of questions for you, Kellan. I’m not going to ask them because I don’t want to interfere with whatever you tell the police. Later, I might ask.”
“I have nothing to tell them.” They shouldn’t have even needed to talk to me. They knew what had happened, even if the mother wouldn’t tell them why. “And I probably can’t answer your questions either.”
“Sorry. You can avoid mine but not theirs. They’re waiting for you upstairs.” His face softened into something close to a smile. “Probably not what you planned on when you came to Denver, huh?”
“Um, yeah. Not so much. Thanks.”
“I’m around until midnight if you want to talk,” he said. “I can’t even imagine what it’s like walking in on something like that. Those kids are lucky you showed up. The EMTs think they’re going to make it.”
“Good.” I let out a long breath, and tension drained from my body. Even if I had to give myself away and relive the whole thing thanks to the police, I’d saved the kids. It was worth it.
I took the elevator up to the fourth floor. A police officer stood right in front of the elevators.
The second the door opened, he snapped, “Are you Kellan McKee?”
“Yeah.” Even if I’d wanted to lie to him, he was too intimidating for me to try it.
“I have a few questions for you.” He motioned for me to step off the elevator and took a pen and pad of paper out of his pocket. “First of all, what were you doing in that room? The desk clerk said you’re in four-twenty-two.”
“Yeah.”
“Why are you in Denver?” He jotted something on the pad and glanced up at me from under bushy eyebrows.
I gulped and took a breath to give myself time to think. “I’m just passing through on the way to Chicago.”
“Why are you going to Chicago?” His tone hardened.
My stomach did somersaults. I could barely stand up because my legs didn’t want to hold me. I hadn’t done anything wrong, at least not here, but he made me feel like I had.
“Son, why do you have to think about it?” He took a step closer to me and gave me the bushy eyebrow look again. “Are you all right?”
“No.” I shook my head so hard my brain rattled. “I just—” I swallowed hard. He knew what I’d seen. How could he even ask if I was all right?
“It’s okay.” He lowered his voice and put his hand out. I shrank back. My hands were heating up again, and I was afraid if he touched me, I’d burn down the whole hotel. He let his hand drop back to his side. “I’m sorry, son. I know you’ve just been through something pretty awful. Just answer my questions and you can go back to your room and rest. Never mind why you’re going to Chicago.”
He leaned sideways against the wall and crossed one ankle over the other. “What made you go into that room? How’d you get in, anyway?”
“I heard screaming.” I paused to get hold of one of the memories spiraling around my brain. I had to tell him the right order of things or he might think I was lying. “It scared me a lot, so I knocked on the door, and the mother opened it. She was crying, and she let me in.”
As he wrote that down, he glanced up at me a few times. Each time, the lines in his forehead deepened and those eyebrows hid more of his eyes. Sweat pooled under my arms and trickled down my forehead into my eyes.
“Your room’s that way, right?” He jerked his head toward my end of the hall. “Why were you down by her room?”
“I was looking for the stairs.” The words popped out of my mouth before I realized I was thinking them. I held my breath. The answer was reasonable, but would he believe it?
He nodded and wrote something without looking at me.
My head was spinning. I didn’t do anything wrong. I bit my tongue so I wouldn’t blurt that out. He hadn’t said I’d done anything. His glare and questions just made me feel like I had. My hands got hotter, and I breathed as deeply as I could, counting each second of each breath in my head, to keep control.
“So you were just walking by her room and heard screaming.” His words were monotone, giving me no clue what he thought. He uncrossed his ankles and straightened up. “You knocked on the door and she just let you in?”
I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. The truest part of my story was the least believable, and I had to make him believe it. My mind raced so fast I couldn’t think.
“I don’t know why.” I choked on the last word and coughed so hard my chest hurt. I jerked my arm up to cover my mouth.
He didn’t say anything until I managed to stop coughing. “Maybe she realized what she’d done and wanted help for her kids,” he said.
&nb
sp; I shrugged and coughed again. “Maybe,” I said around my arm.
He stuck the pen and pad back in one of his pockets and took a business card out of another. He held out the card to me, and I took it with my fingertips so I wouldn’t accidentally touch him.
“Give me a call if you remember anything else that might help,” he said.
For a second I just stared at the card. The words on it blurred, and I blinked a few times to try to make them clear. I took another deep breath and started coughing again as I let it out.
“Take it easy,” he said in a soft voice.
I nodded, swallowed a couple of times, and stuck the card in my pocket. “What’s going to happen to the kids?”
“Their father’s on his way to be with them.” He grimaced. “They’re probably going to survive, thanks to you. If you hadn’t barged in there when you did and pulled them out of the tub, they wouldn’t have made it. You did the right thing.”
“Thanks.” Right for the little kids. Maybe dangerous for me.
But as I’d realized when I stood outside the door to room 402, if I hadn’t done anything, I would have hated myself. Sometimes the right thing had consequences.
“We’ll be in touch,” he said. “We may ask you to testify if this goes to trial.”
“If? Isn’t it kind of automatic?” The woman had tried to kill her kids. She deserved to be put on trial.
“She might plead out,” he said. “I mean, you caught her in the act. She could try to plead innocent, but it wouldn’t go over too well.”
“Yeah.”
He squinted at me. The whole time he’d been interrogating me, he hadn’t really taken a good look. He’d been too busy asking his questions and writing down my answers. Now I had his attention, whether I wanted it or not.
“How old are you?” he asked.
“Older than you think.” I didn’t intend to sound like a wise guy, but I knew it came across that way.
He narrowed his eyes. “Answer the question.”
“Nineteen.” If I said I was eighteen, he would assume I was lying because that was the minimum “adult” age. If I upped it a year, he might buy it.
