The Dead King

by Pamfiloff, Mimi Jean

  He released me and kissed my cheek.

  “Uh. It was a last minute thing.” How was he standing? How was he cooking pancakes?

  “Your father was just telling me about his plans for a spring garden,” Jack said with his usual lack of emotion.

  Garden?

  My dad went over to the frying pan and flipped a pancake. “I hope you’re hungry. I’m making my famous pecan praline pancakes.”

  “That sounds, uh, great?” I smiled tightly. “Jack, can I talk to you privately for a minute?”

  Jack dipped his head. “Be right back, Mel. I think your daughter is upset with me. I came back a little late last evening.”

  Huh?

  I marched out of the kitchen into my bedroom, which was just a bed and boxes piled high against one wall. I never really unpacked after coming home from college last year, mostly because I’d been lazy. Then everything happened so fast—my dad’s accident, long days in the hospital, and realizing my life was about to drastically change.

  Jack followed me in, and I closed the door behind him.

  “What the fuck is going on?” I hissed.

  “You mean…” He pointed over his shoulder.

  “What did you do to him?” I snapped.

  “You are complaining.” His hypnotic blue eyes narrowed with displeasure.

  “No. I just want to know what sort of weird crap you pulled.” I pointed an accusatory finger at him.

  “Your breakfast is going to get cold.” He went for the door.

  I rushed to block him, placing a hand on his firm chest. I suddenly noticed he was wearing a long dress coat, a white dress shirt, and tailored black slacks. His shiny black dress shoes looked like they’d come straight from the box. I was about to ask how he’d obtained new, expensive-looking clothes, but maybe I didn’t want to know.

  “Tell me what you did to my dad,” I said firmly.

  He stared.

  “Will you at least tell me if it’s permanent?”

  “More than you know.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” I snapped.

  Jack gestured toward the door. “You have breakfast to eat, and we have a plane to catch.”

  That was when I noticed the gold ring missing from his hand. A flicker of relief washed through me. Jack must’ve hocked it last night, which explained how he’d bought new clothes. I’d honestly feared he’d killed someone or robbed a store.

  “Plane? To where?” And how had he purchased the tickets?

  “I used your credit card while you slept last night. We leave in an hour for the airport.”

  “What the fuck, Jack? You can’t just expect me to go off with you and leave my dad.”

  “But I can,” he snarled in a low voice. “I have kept my promise to you. Your father will be safe. He is healed. And now you will come with me.”

  I was still in shock over seeing my dad bouncing around the kitchen. I wasn’t even sure this was real.

  “We have a deal,” Jack added. “And I do not look upon welshers kindly.” This time, he let me know exactly how he was feeling. In a nonverbal way.

  Still, I couldn’t leave my dad. Not after coming home to find him like that. “Jack, I’m sorry, but I can’t go with you.”

  “What happened to helping me?”

  “I can’t leave him. I have to take care of—”

  “But you do not. He is perfectly capable. No longer in pain. Able to work. Safe. However, if you insist on remaining here, I could undo all that.”

  Fucker.

  “I warned you, Jeni; I am not a good man.” Again, his words held no emotion, which I found all the more frightening, and he knew it. He knew how to push my buttons. Proof being how he’d gotten me to do everything he’d asked so far—driving away from the port, going to the police station, heading to my motel and coming here. And he knew I’d go with him because there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for my dad. Especially now that Jack had performed some sort of miracle.

  I looked away. “Fine. I’ll go.”

  “That wasn’t so hard, now was it? Let us get going. We have people to hunt down and punish.” He left the room, and a cold chill moved through me. I knew how he punished people. Randall’s screams were still fresh in my mind, and I wanted no part in whatever Jack had planned.

  But how did a girl walk away from a man like him?

  It was beyond strange. My dad acted like he’d never been in an accident. When I brought up his sudden recovery, he laughed and served me another pancake. Not a word about how he’d woken up brand new. Then he thanked Jack for bringing me home. I surmised that Jack had told him we were together—dating. Met on the job or something like that. I went along, not wanting to worry my dad, though I did tell him I’d had to leave Ripley Construction.

  “There was a murder,” Jack explained to Dad. “Quite violent, right there in the port. Jeni no longer felt safe.”

  “Terrible. I’m going to call Mr. Ripley.” Dad frowned.

  “No. Don’t. It’s fine,” I protested. “But if they call looking for me, let them know I’m not going back.”

  I honestly didn’t understand why Jack brought it up. Maybe he figured my dad would hear something from the company. He probably would.

  “I thought it would be nice to take Jeni to San Francisco to get her mind off the matter,” said Jack. “We’ll only be gone a few days at the most.”

  “San Francisco?” Dad sounded pleased. “It’s been years since Jeni’s taken a vacation. A wonderful idea.”

  I smiled tightly. My dad had been brainwashed into trusting whatever Jack said, but I knew better. If we were going to San Francisco, he had his reasons.

  “Well, it was a pleasure meeting you,” Dad said.

  “Likewise, Mel.” Jack dipped his head of thick black hair.

  I reached for the plates on the counter. “I’ll get these washed before we leav—”

  “No. No.” My dad waved us out. “You two need to get to the airport. I’ve got this.” He gave me a hug and whispered in my ear, “He’s a keeper, Jeni.”

  My stomach rolled. It was one thing that Jack had gotten inside my dad’s head to put him at ease, but now he was urging me to “keep” Jack? A little much.

  Standing behind my dad, Jack flashed a dark look my way.

  Sorry, buddy. But you’re the one who said you’re not a good man. He made a point to remind me of it every ten minutes.

  I took a quick shower, packed my small red duffel bag with fresh clothes, and said goodbye to my dad. Every part of me ached with guilt over leaving him again, but Jack wasn’t leaving me much of a choice.

  While Jack loaded his new suitcase into the trunk, I got behind the wheel of my car. Since it was a rental, supplied by the construction company, I would turn it in at the airport.

  He finally got in on the passenger side and stared expectantly, waiting for me to start the engine, but I needed to get something off my chest.

  “Before we leave,” I cleared my throat, “I just want to say thank you. I don’t know how you did it, but you’ve changed my dad’s life.” I didn’t bother looking at Jack. I didn’t want to say these kind words and stare into his vibrant blue eyes. I couldn’t risk allowing feelings of affection to blossom, which wasn’t easy. He’d performed a miracle.

  “You are welcome. But remember what I said, Jeni. Everything comes with a price.”

  “I know. I’m coming with you to San Francisco, aren’t I?”

  “Simply getting on a plane is not enough.”

  Of course it wasn’t. Why would it be? We were talking about Jack.

  I started the engine. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my dad, so you might as well spit it out and tell me what you want.”

  “You are not ready to hear it. But soon. Very soon.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Jack hadn’t told me why we were going to San Francisco, but obviously he believed he’d find answers there.

  Maybe a memory had surfaced. Maybe he’d seen so
mething inside that woman’s head before he’d knocked her block with a two-by-four. Again, I didn’t know. The only thing that concerned me was that we’d be landing in thirty minutes, and I still had no clue about why he brought me along. What did he expect me to do? I wasn’t buying his story about needing my “resources.”

  Bullshit. He was plenty resourceful on his own. For example, when we checked into the airport, he’d simply stared at the security woman. She’d thanked him and let him pass. No ID. Just a ticket in his hand.

  I didn’t want to admit it, but Jack had Jedi abilities that defied logic. Should I be worried? Fuck yes. But worrying wasn’t going to help me now.

  After we landed at SFO, I deplaned and found Jack waiting outside the gate, since he’d insisted on sitting in first class and had been miraculously upgraded by the attendant.

  I wished I had his abilities.

  He greeted me with a nod, and we walked through the airport in silence while I held back the plethora of questions piling up inside my head. What was the point in asking them? He already knew what I was thinking, and he wasn’t going to answer.

  We stepped outside into the cold night air, complete with drizzle. It reminded me of the night Jack and I met, just three days ago.

  Would someone die tonight, too?

  We loaded into a taxi, and I still said nothing. I was afraid. I was angry that he’d blackmailed me to leave my father. I was resentful that he couldn’t be a good man. Because deep down, I was beginning to want him to be.

  In fact, the more I thought about him and his abilities, the more I realized the good he could do. A person who could read the thoughts of others was in a position to solve murders, not commit them. They could weed out corrupt politicians, help stop serial killers, and assist the wrongly accused. He could heal the sick. Gifts like his could change the world. Maybe he’s not the devil. Maybe he’s an angel.

  “Stop,” he growled under his breath, sitting next to me in the back seat of the yellow cab.

  “Stop what?”

  “I have had to listen to your incessant head chatter for five straight hours. Enough is fucking enough. I am no angel. I am not here to do good. Never forget that.”

  The cab driver looked at me in the rearview mirror. I decided to occupy myself by watching the traffic. I didn’t like conflict. On the other hand, I was entitled to think what I wanted. If Jack didn’t like it, he could stay the fuck out of my head! Of course, he might kill me instead.

  Jack leaned toward me and whispered in my ear, “I am not going to kill you, so shut the fuck up. I cannot think with all that noise.”

  I turned my head and looked up at his exquisite face—the arches of his perfectly shaped brows, the angular jaw, the supple lips framed by dark stubble. “If you don’t want to hear my thoughts, then try getting the hell out of…” Wait. Unless. You can’t shut me out?

  He said nothing. He didn’t have to.

  “Why? Why not?” I asked.

  “Hell if I know, Miss Arnold.”

  “Is it like that with everyone?”

  “No,” he replied sharply.

  It was only with me. Did it make me special in some way? “Is that why you wanted me to come with you?”

  “No.”

  “Then why am I really here?” I asked.

  “I am not the only one with abilities, Jeni.” His stare grew intense.

  He meant me?

  “You’re nuts.” I laughed.

  “Have you ever asked yourself why you truly shy away from others, why you live in fear of the world?”

  I never asked because I knew why; my mother’s death wrecked me.

  “Wrong. Your mother’s death cultivated a deadly rage within you, and that is what you fear: What you might do with it.”

  By now the cab driver was getting very interested in our conversation, so I clamped my mouth shut.

  “Think, Jeni,” Jack said calmly, his voice filled with arrogance. “Think long and hard about the night we met.”

  What the hell was he driving at?

  The cab slowed to a stop, breaking us away from our intense conversation.

  “Forty-three bucks,” said the driver.

  I dug fifty from my purse. “Keep the change.” Jack and I unloaded our things.

  While the cab made a U-turn to head back the way we came, I swiveled on my heel. We’d been dropped off on a lonely street lined with warehouses near the water. A thick fog hovered low in the air, casting a dull orange hue on everything except Jack. He seemed to absorb the light. Or repel it?

  “Where are we?” What I really meant was, Why am I here?

  He reached for my arm and pressed his fingertips into my skin. “Your abilities will help me uncover the truth. That is why we are here.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “It was you, Jeni. You killed Randall.”

  I shook my head, horrified at the thought of hurting anyone. “Stop, Jack, or I’m outta here.” He needed to tell me what he really wanted, or this game was through.

  “No games. No lies. I watched while you tore Randall’s face apart, and he begged for mercy.”

  I jerked my arm free and stepped back. “You’re the one who chased after him. Not me.”

  “There was no need for me to raise a finger, Jeni. That is why I laughed. I saw what he wanted to do to you, and I knew he was about to get the shock of a lifetime.”

  I took another step back.

  “I have no reason to lie,” he added, “but you have every reason to lie to yourself.”

  My head started to pound. I pressed my palms to my temples. Stop it.

  “You come from a long line of Seers—women with powerful gifts, each one unique. Death is your power. Its darkness wraps itself around you, and when you wish to, you have the ability to channel it.”

  He was out of his fucking mind.

  “Your path,” he grabbed hold of me again, “was meant to cross with mine. It is no coincidence that my body washed up at your feet. It is no coincidence that Randall couldn’t stop thinking of you. He was evil, a killer, and drawn to you, too. He wanted deliverance from his darkness.”

  I hate you. I’m not bad. I’m not.

  Jack placed his warm hand on my cheek, producing an instant calming effect. “No, you are not bad; however, that does not change what you are. You may either learn to deal with it or ignore it. But every choice comes with a price. Denying your gift could mean that death will punish you. Perhaps it already has.”

  Words of a madman. It wasn’t true.

  Jack’s gaze grew more intense, wild even. “That is why you seek to keep others away. You know, deep down inside, what could happen if you allow them into your life. A cursed life. But if you help me, I will ensure things are different.”

  I slapped his hand away. “I am not some grim reaper!”

  “You are much more powerful than that, and I can teach you how to take control of your gift—benefit from it even.”

  “You’re insane. You’re trying to pull me into this imaginary world you’ve built around your crap lies.”

  “How much more do you need to see, Jeni?” His impatience turned up a notch. “You cannot have a single thought without me knowing, including your opinion of my cock.”

  I looked away, feeling like the foundations of my world were starting to crumble. He was chipping away at me one piece at a time.

  “Very well. If you wish to play hardball…”

  I felt him claw at my skull, digging his way in. I didn’t know how to fight him off.

  Suddenly, I was there. That night with Randall. I saw myself in the mud, trying to fend off the attack. I watched Randall tearing at my clothes while he choked the life from my body.

  I laughed, noting a dark shadow surrounding me while I struggled.

  Fuck. I was inside Jack’s head. I was reliving his memory of that night, including his thoughts: Of all the places in the world, of all the women, I come here. To her shore. A fucking Seer.

 
He’d thought about how he’d never seen one like me—a thing only heard of in ancient stories. A Seer with a shadow all around her instead of green, blue, white, or yellow. Each color had meaning. Some Seers traveled across the planes of time. Some could make others do their bidding. Some saw the future. But he’d never met one who could bend death to her will.

  Jack’s memories continued bombarding my mind, allowing me to watch as Randall was dragged away by thin air. I stood in awe as his eyes were torn from his skull, and his face was crushed to a pulp. Me, I mean Jack, loved every sick piece of it because he knew from the moment he woke inside that steel coffin that he’d been fucked over. He believed that this dark angel—me—was sent to help him. She will be my fury. She will make things right.

  “Stop! Stop! Stop!” I didn’t know where the surge came from, but I pushed Jack out of my head.

  He stood motionless in the middle of the street, unaffected by my reaction.

  “This isn’t happening.” I pressed the heels of my palms to my pounding temples.

  “Or is the truth that we are connected by death? I am, after all, a man who has managed to defy it thousands of times.”

  Who gave a shit? Not me. “What do you want, Jack?”

  “As I said, I want you to help me find out what was taken from me. I want to know why. And then I want them to suffer for it.”

  If he didn’t know what was done to him, how could he want someone to suffer for it? I understood there was an emptiness inside him, but—

  “It is more than that,” he said in a firm tone. “I know someone I cared for was hurt. I know they were taken. And I know the only reason I am here with you today is because death wants its pound of flesh. It does not appreciate it when others meddle with its plans.”

  He spoke about death like it was a person. And if what he said was true, then why wasn’t death upset with him? According to Jack, he’d meddled with death’s plans by staying alive.

  “I hope to find out. Now,” he gestured toward the warehouse to our left, “if you do not mind, I would very much like to go inside and find out why the address for this place is tattooed on the inside of my mouth.” He pressed his index finger to his lower lip.