Darlings of Paranormal Romance (Anthology) (98 page)

"She'll wake up. Trust a little
more." Stefan hung up.

Brandt tucked away his cell phone,
Stefan's final words ringing in his ears – time to recover and
heal. The heal part blew him away. If she experienced the same
physical damage as these woman, then no wonder she looked like she
could use a good square meal. Her body had to burn calories at a
horrific rate doing something like this.

Sam stirred. Brandt rushed over to
her side. She rolled her head from one side to the next before
coming to a stop. A deep heavy sigh worked its way up from her
chest. She opened her eyes, ones that widened in shock when they
landed on him.

"It's okay Sam. It's just me. Take it
easy. Take your time."

Understanding seeped into those
beautiful eyes before she closed them again, drifting off into a
light resting state. She licked her lips and whispered in a voice
so low he had to bend to her lips to hear it. "I'll be fine in a
couple of minutes."

Soldier whined and flumped down at
her feet protectively.

Brandt ran a hand through his hair,
relieved to hear her talking, but having trouble with the concept
that she'd could be okay that fast. Was that possible? He wouldn't
be – how could she? He watched her carefully. Could she recover
from something like this on her own – without a doctor? How? Did
Stefan go through this as well?

In amazement, Brandt watched as the
blood thinned and actually appeared to be less. He leaned forward.
The droplets on the floor remained. The slices in the blankets
remained. What about her? Getting up, he gently lifted the corner
of the blanket and checked her abdomen. Even as he watched, the
wound shrunk down. It was only a couple of inches long now. He
shook his head. He'd never have believed it. And he was open-minded
about this stuff. He couldn't imagine Kevin's reaction.

"Brandt?"

"I'm here, Sam. Take it
easy."

"I'm almost there. Just another
minute and I'll be good."

"Right. Like I'm going to believe
that." He snorted and sat on the coffee table across from her,
accidentally nudging Soldier who lay protectively in front of
Sam.

Soldier lifted his head, his lip
curling at Brandt.

Brandt glared down at him. Soldier
glared back.

"No, I'm almost there. Wait, let me
check." She lifted her head to look at him. And cried out in agony,
her body curling into itself.

Instantly Brandt was at her side.
"Jesus, Sam. What the hell?"

Sam gasped for breath her face slowly
gaining color with the effort. "It's okay. Honest."

Frustrated, he fisted his hands on
his hips. "How? How can this be okay?"

He crouched down beside her, reaching
out a hesitant hand. He desperately wanted to give comfort, yet was
scared of hurting her further.

She opened her eyes to stare at him
again.

"Oh God, Sam." Brandt breathed her
name almost in prayer. The depth of her suffering and pain hurt his
soul. Her eyes had gone black from her agony.

Helpless, he could only watch. "I'm
so sorry, honey. What can I do to help?"

A tiny smile peeped out.
"Wait."

He didn't think he could do it.
"Sweetheart, there is blood everywhere."

The smile disappeared as she
shuddered once, then twice. "Always is."

Brandt sank into a crouch beside the
couch. "God, how can you do this – day in and day out?"

Her answer, so succinct and so honest
blew him away. "Easy. I have no choice."

3:48 am, June
20th

Sam found the shift through
transition harder this time. Having someone watch while she healed
and returned to normal reality wasn't exactly fun. Self-conscious
or not, she couldn't move before it was time. Shifting her glance
to catch Brandt's expression, she winced and stared up at the
ceiling. Barely concealed horror still rippled across his
face.

She closed her eyes. She couldn't
help him deal with this. It took everything she had to deal with it
herself.

The research she'd done said that
blood rarely manifested in visions. But in special cases, people
woke up with their hands or bodies stained with the stuff. For her,
the blood appeared wherever the injuries manifested, but less blood
than if she'd truly been the one attacked. Apparently, the amount
of physical manifestations should decrease as she learned to
control her gifts. She could only hope.

Gently, Sam swung her legs over the
side of her couch and sat up. Feeling dizzy, she took several
shuddering breaths before fixing her gaze on Brandt.

Wild eyes stared back at her. She
couldn't blame him. This stuff came straight out of a horror movie.
She wanted to curl up and hide in shame. She'd hoped he'd never see
her like this. Never see her so exposed, so...freakish. She could
only imagine what he thought of her now.

A few last tremors worked up her
spine. It was almost over. Her eyes still burned, swollen and dry.
Even her bones ached.

She focused on Brandt instead of the
pain. His rumpled hair looked adorable – at total odds to his eyes.
She glanced at the clock, yawning at the same time. It was close to
four in the morning. He must have stayed all night.

She slid her gaze over him again. He
still appeared shell-shocked. It said much about his perception.
He'd never be able to accept this part of her. The pain from her
vision was nothing to the sudden pain in her heart.

Brandt sat down suddenly. She studied
his features. In truth, it looked like his belief system, his very
foundation of existence had been ripped out from under
him.

Sam couldn't handle any more. Tears
of shame burned. Freak.

"Christ." Brandt's whispered words
were a soft prayer for understanding.

Sam knew how he felt. She also knew
her prayers had never been answered. "What's the
matter?"

He snorted, rose, and reached to poke
a finger through one of the many slices in the blanket covering
her. "This is what's the matter." He stuck his fingers through a
bigger cut and waggled them.

Confused, Sam watched emotions
whisper across his face.

He stared at her. "Does this
mean...?"

Her bottom lip wobbled and she
nodded. "It means another woman has been murdered."

Hearing her own words broke the dam
holding back the anguish in Sam's soul. Brandt sat on the couch and
tugged her into his arms. Sam went. Hurt, she curled into his chest
and let her tears pour. Brandt rocked her gently, her broken sobs
so soft they could hardly be heard. The pain behind them could
hardly be ignored.

Brandt hugged her tight.

After the worst of the storm had
passed, Sam thought she heard him speak.

She shifted slightly to peer up at
him, wiping away the tears on her cheeks. "What?"

"I'm sorry to have to do this. I need
to ask you some questions while this is all fresh." His gaze
glanced off the blanket. He shook his head in a daze. "About the
victim, not so much the process – which I admit to having some
trouble with." As his hand continued to stroke her sore muscles, he
became lost in thought. After a moment, he tugged her close for a
quick hug before setting her back slightly.

Holding back a few stray sniffles,
Sam shifted into a more comfortable position and let herself relax
slightly.

"What happened was in real time."
Tears welled again. Sam struggled for control, using her sleeve to
wipe her eyes. "The slashes you saw appear on the blanket and on my
body were the same injuries the victim received. The blood and cuts
to the blankets correlate to the victim's injuries."

Brandt started.

"Are you saying that you are stabbed
every time the victim is stabbed?"

The tears slid from the corners of
her eyes. "Yes." Her voice was barely more than a
whisper.

"No." Brandt shook his head. "No one
could survive those injuries. They can't be happening to you,
because..." Brandt shifted enough to remove the blanket. "Because
you're fine. You'd be dead if that had happened to you. Like those
women are dead."

Teary eyed, and tormented by the poor
woman's fate, Sam nodded. "You still don't understand." She
sniffled, rubbing her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. Recovery
might have taken a while longer tonight, it had also taken all of
her energy. She was exhausted.

Sam locked her gaze onto his. "In a
way, I am exactly like those other women." A quiver ran down her
spine, shaking her entire body. Wrapping her arms around her chest,
she took a deep breath.

"As each woman dies...so do I – I die
every time."

10:10 am

"So what are you going to do about
it?" The colonel shifted further out of the sun, the buckles on his
ever-present suspenders glinting in the bright light. He hooked his
cane onto the arm of the overstuffed easy chair as he sat down. He
glanced over at Maisy again. "Well, you said it. Enough is enough."
He grinned at her sour face. "So what are you prepared to do? The
boy is full grown."

"Pshhh." Maisy snorted delicately.
"Grown he might be, know his own mind, he doesn't."

The colonel grinned at her. "Oh, he
knows his mind. It's just not the mind you want him to have. You
don't like that he's choosing to live his life the way he wants
to." He reached for his cup of tea. "Admit it. You want him to do
it your way."

"Behave yourself, or you can go
somewhere else for your tea." She harrumphed and busied herself
straightening her sunflower yellow skirts.

The colonel chuckled and relaxed
further into his chair.

"The boy should be married and have a
family by now. That's all I'm saying." She tilted her face more
into the sun. The heat from the sun's rays was wonderfully strong
for this hour of the morning. It did her old bones good to soak up
the healing rays. "Besides, I like this one."

"Which one?"

"You know perfectly well which one.
The skinny one that's all eyes."

"I don't think they're really going
out. That boy wouldn't recognize staying power even when it's there
right under his nose. He's after other qualities." The colonel
waggled his thick white eyebrows at her.

"He's a normal male." Maisy grinned
at the colonel. "He probably doesn't even know what staying power
is."

"Too bad. A girl like that – well
she's a keeper."

"She looks like she's survived hell
on earth."

The two sat in comfort, enjoying the
simple things of life that had taken them decades to
appreciate.

The colonel spoke up again. "Did you
hear about that case the police are working on?"

Maisy glanced at him. "Which
one?"

He waved his hand at the television.
"The one they talked about last night. The police are trying to
identify the owner of a ring with a four-leaf clover pattern and
some sort of snake wrapped through the leaves. Apparently, one
diamond is missing from the ring. They didn't specify why they were
looking for the information, though."

Pursing her lips, Maisy thought about
the many jewelry pieces she'd seen over the years. None had been in
that pattern that she could remember. She loved jewelry,
particularly unique pieces.

"Can't say that I've seen anything
like that – at least not recently."

"When are they coming for
lunch?"

Maisy recognized the sly twist to the
colonel's face. "Meaning you don't give a damn about seeing him,
you'd like to know more about the cases he's working
on."

The colonel scrunched his shoulders
like a young child who'd been caught with his hand in a cookie jar.
"Call him. We need something new to talk about here." He stared at
the blank television. "I'm pretty sure I saw that ring somewhere. I
just can't remember where."

"Really? That's so
exciting."

He harrumphed at her. "It's only
exciting if I can remember where. My memory isn't that
good."

Maisy smiled. "Isn't that the truth?"
She surveyed the courtyard and the other seniors taking the time to
enjoy the morning sun. Life was peaceful here – too peaceful.
Stimulation was hard to come by and her son's career was the source
of much of it. Still, it was a good excuse to get him over where
she could work on him a little more. Besides, she shouldn't need an
excuse. He was her son. She reached for the phone, ignoring the low
chuckles from the colonel. "Brandt, good morning." She smiled at
his sleepy voice. Poor guy, he didn't get enough sleep. "I wanted
to catch you before you went to work this morning and got all
caught up in your cases."

He mumbled something in
response.

Maisy wasn't fazed. He was always
like that. "The colonel and I have been talking. He saw that bit of
news on the TV about a ring the other night. It triggered something
for him."