Darlings of Paranormal Romance (Anthology) (97 page)

"Sam, sit up and eat. You'll feel
better."

She opened her eyes to see Brandt
holding out a plateful. She placed it on the table between the two
couches. Brandt sat opposite her. He'd heaped her plate high with
saucy noodles, chicken, and lovely crisp vegetables. She'd be lucky
to eat half of it. The hot steam wafted toward her, both soothing
and comforting. She took several bites and moaned with
pleasure.

"I love Chinese food. Thank you for
this."

He smiled and kept a steady eye on
her. "You're welcome." After another quiet moment with only the
sounds of food being enjoyed, he asked another question. "Are you
sure you're okay? You look a little pale."

Sam nodded gently, her mouth too full
to speak. "Yes, sometimes I get these bad headaches." He'd been
right, she was feeling slightly better. The headache, although not
gone, had receded slightly. To change the subject, she nodded to
several pictures upside down on the table. "What are
those?"

He flipped the pictures over and
spread them out.

Four different pictures of snake and
leaf designs lay in front of her. Interesting. She leaned forward
to study them.

After a few minutes, Brandt shifted
his position. "Well?"

"Hmmm."

"What does that mean?"

Sam looked up at him. "It means
they're close, just not the same as the one I saw."

"How can you tell?" Brandt leaned
forward pushing the papers closer. "They're all so
similar."

She took another bite of
noodles.

"Similar but not the same. In the
left one, the snake wraps around the outside of a leaf, not a
cloverleaf. In the right one, you can't tell if it's a snake or a
rope or something similar."

Brandt, shaking his head, collected
the pictures together.

At her nod, he stacked the pictures
into a pile. "Have you had any more visions or seen anything
else?"

"No, nothing yet."

They continued to eat in
contemplative silence for a few more minutes. The corners of Sam's
mouth slid downward and her eyes closed. God, she was tired. She
put down her half-full plate.

"Are you sure you can't eat a little
more?"

She shook her head without opening
her eyes. "Sorry, it's my headache. Let me just close my eyes for a
few minutes."

"No problem. Lie down and rest. I'll
clean up."

Sam was past arguing. With a warm
full tummy, fatigue drew her in, and she slept.

10:05 pm

With
the dishes washed, Brandt sat on
the couch opposite Sam. Now what? Should he leave her alone to
sleep? Odd to be so unsure. Staring at her, he had to admit, the
idea of staying and watching over her was winning. He glanced at
the pile of blankets on the floor. Picking one up, he opened it and
covered Sam.

There was something wild about her.
Not necessarily in a good way. Maybe untamed was a better
description. She appeared awkward in crowds, uneasy in close
confines, and hated confrontations – she wouldn't walk away from a
fight if she thought it mattered. She could hold her
own.

She was trying to improve her life
now, but what had brought her so low? Had it been the last incident
with the deputy? He frowned. Had that car accident long ago wiped
out her savings or had she been unable to work afterwards because
of her injuries? He surveyed the small room. He doubted she'd had
insurance. There was no sign of money here. In fact, poverty had
moved right in. She dressed in oversized thrift store clothes that
would fit any large man.

She needed a keeper. Someone to make
sure she ate and rested. If there was no one else, then maybe, just
maybe the job fell to him. That he'd even had that thought showed
how far he'd come. A few weeks ago, he'd have run at the thought of
caring for someone like her. This was stupid. He needed a decent
night's sleep himself. He should be home in his own bed, not here
keeping an eye on her. Still, it was early yet, and she'd looked
wiped when he'd arrived. Staying awhile wouldn't be a
hardship.

Moses slept on the floor in front of
Sam and Soldier sat on guard at the end of the other couch –
watching him.

Brandt peered into the blackness
outside the window. Moments later he closed his eyes, too tired
himself to muddle through the confusing array of reasons for
staying there.

An odd muffled noise woke
him.

Brandt turned his head, groaning as
pain exploded through his neck. "God, what did I do?" Rolling his
head from side to side, he leaned forward, trying to remember where
he was. A muffled cry from the couch had him bolting upright, now
wide-awake.

Sam jerked her legs out straight and
arched her back. Her mouth opened, the muscles on her face and neck
clenched into long cords, straining with effort. She screamed –
silently.

The hairs on Brandt's neck stood
straight up.

Sam jerked, her back bowed even
tighter.

Brandt reached out to wake her from
the nightmare, then hesitated, his hands inches from her shoulder.
How many times had Stefan told him not to touch someone in a
trance? But how did he know whether she was in a trance or a
nightmare?

Sam collapsed, her legs sprawling at
awkward angels. Her breathing stabilized, returning to a more even
pace, slowly picking up a normal rhythm again.

Just when he thought she was fine,
Sam's face twisted, her eyes opened wide with an opaque glassy
look. Brandt bent over and stared directly into her
eyes.

"Sam," he whispered. "Sam, wake
up."

Sam arched again, then jerked
spasmodically as if struck by invisible blows.

Jesus. Brandt backed up a step and
stared at her. Ice raced through his body. What the hell was going
on? He searched her face, watching every nuance, every tiny
expression – it was easy to see she wasn't really here. She was
seeing something, experiencing something that Brandt couldn't.
Brandt had never seen any nightmare like this one. He wasn't sure
he'd ever want to, either.

He glanced at his watch. 2:30 am. He
must have fallen asleep. He could have sworn he'd been out for only
a couple of minutes.

Sam made a gurgling sound, arched
once, then twice before collapsing into a shuddering tremble. Then
she fell silent. Brandt stared in horror. Cuts appeared in the
blanket. He reached out, the raspy wool scratched his fingers. When
he'd covered her up, the blanket had been tatty but whole. He
couldn't see it completely from the awkward way it lay over her,
but he could see several slices in the thick fabric.

His jaw dropped. More cuts appeared
even as he watched. He leaned forward, shock making his hands
tremble. This could not be happening. This was not possible. His
rational mind knew that, yet his eyes wouldn't stop receiving the
images. There, another cut over her abdomen appeared. No way. He
leaned closer and sat again as bile rose up into his
throat.

Blood seeped slowly from the last
cut. Impossible. Brandt sat in horror as blood slowly oozed from
the dozen cuts, soaking the blanket covering Sam. Was she hurt? She
couldn't be – the cuts had just appeared. Only there was nothing
there that had caused the injuries.

Soldier arrived at the couch, a high
whine sounding from deep inside him.

"Easy boy. I don't know what's going
on either."

Brandt studied his hands, not
surprised to see them shaking, shudders even now moving up his
arms. Christ, no one would believe this. Hell, he could hardly
believe it himself – and it was happening right before his
eyes.

His gaze
dropped to a second blanket on the floor. Reaching down, he shook
the folds loose and went to fling it across her form, when Stefan's
warning drilled through her.
Never touch a
medium when they are in a trance.

The blanket dropped to the floor. He
didn't know if a blanket counted as a touch and decided he didn't
dare take the chance. A sudden thought jolted him. No one would
believe him, just like no one believed Sam. Oh God. His stomach
knotted and bile seared his throat, threatening to make him sick.
Is this how she felt?

He watched in fascination as the
blood dripped and ran to pool on top of the blankets beside her.
Her face paled to a milky white, making his nerves jump again.
Shit. He wanted to call for an ambulance. But what could he tell
them? He knew logically there was no rational explanation. And he
could be killing her by leaving her alone to bleed. Shit. Doubt
paralyzed him.

Soldier stuck his nose closer to Sam,
sniffing the blood. He whimpered.

Brandt grabbed his cell phone.
Stefan, Goddamn it, please be home.

"Hello?" A thick sleep-filled voice
growled at him.

"Oh thank God. Stefan, this is
Brandt."

"Brandt." A thick throat-clearing
cough bounced through the phone. "What's the matter?"

"It's Sam."

"Sam? What's wrong?" His voice turned
businesslike.

"I'm in trouble."

"What else is new?"

"No, I'm here with her now and she
appears to be caught in a vision."

"And?"

"Stefan. I've seen a lot of things in
my life, but I've never come across anything like this. It's
happening right now." Brandt took a deep breath and willed some
stability into his voice. "There are cuts appearing in the blanket
that's covering her and there's blood. Oh my God, there's so much
blood. It's dripping on the floor." Brandt drew a shaky breath.
"There's no weapon, or anyone, just the slashes without
reason."

"But she's still in the
vision?"

"That's what I'm saying. It's like
she's experiencing someone else's attack. As I'm watching, she
arches and reacts as if being stabbed, then slashes appear in the
blankets around her. Within seconds, blood appears and drips to the
floor. Christ, Stefan." Brandt bent, dipping his fingers in a pool
of blood. He rubbed his fingers together. "The blood is real. It
smells real, and it feels real."

There was silence for a
moment.

"How can she survive something like
this?" Brandt needed Stefan's reassurance. That it wasn't
forthcoming, made him more nervous.

"Is she breathing?"

Brandt, his heart racing at the
thought, bent over Sam. "Christ, she'd better be." He checked her
chest for the telltale rise and fall movement. There. Ever so
faint. He placed his hand to hover above her mouth. Yes. A faint
waft of air. "Yes, she's alive. But not by much."

"That's okay. The deeper her trance,
the more her body vitals slow down."

Brandt checked her over again. The
blood had settled in, staining the gray material to rust. The smell
flared his nostrils – the same metallic odour he knew all too
well.

"Can you see any damage to her body,
or are we just talking blankets and blood showing?"

"Is it safe to touch her? Hell,
Stefan, how many times have you pounded it into me not to touch you
when you're in a trance?"

"Lift the blankets and don't touch
her body."

"Why is it I can't touch her again?"
Brandt stared at Sam, trying to figure out a safe corner of the
blanket to lift without touching her body.

"You'll snap her connection to
whatever energy she's attached to. She could stay over there, snap
back here, or get caught somewhere in between."

Brandt winced. "Right." Working
carefully, he shifted a corner of the blanket away from her
shoulder to peer at her slight body below. A slice deep into her
abdomen made his gut clench. He groaned softly, sadly. She was
dying, and he'd done nothing to help her.

"Christ, her abdomen is split
open."

Stefan's voice remained calm and
patient. "That's fine. Is she still experiencing new
injuries?"

"That's fine! What the hell, Stefan?
She's dying."

"No, she's not. In about twenty
minutes, she should be almost as good as new. Check again. Are new
injuries still appearing?"

Brandt stared at Sam, trying to check
all of her at once. After a moment, he answered, "I don't think so.
I think that part is over."

"Good, the blood should stop seeping
too."

"It will?" Brandt studied the welling
blood. Relief washed over him. "Actually, it appears to be
slowing."

"Good. She should wake up
soon."

"Should? I need her to wake up
now!"

"Don't touch her." Stefan's voice was
sharp, leaving no room for arguing. "When she wakes, she could be
groggy, disoriented, and possibly scared. Give her both time and
space. Try not to startle her, just watch as she
recovers."

"Right. I guess that makes sense."
Brandt moved over and sat across from Sam. "I'll call you in the
morning. Or in a few minutes if she doesn't wake up."