No Peace for the Damned (17 page)

Unfamiliar emotions stirred inside me—sudden longings much more demanding than the comfort I’d come to expect when he was near. The butterflies that had sprung to life in my stomach spilled south in a rush. I gasped. My eyes closed.
Oh God. Concentrate
.

Theo’s body had been tense since my first breath on his shoulder. But when I blew the last necessary breath on the side of his abdomen, just above the waistband of his fitted jeans, his muscles clenched in a way that they hadn’t before, shaking him under their pull. I pulled away quickly.

Theo’s back and arms were drenched in sweat. I crawled down from the table and stood by his side. His eyes were closed, but not clenched like they had been. He seemed…calm now. His head tilted to one side, like he was listening to some soothing music.

I stood motionless, watching him. Finally, he rolled his eyes open to look at me. They seemed lighter somehow. He didn’t smile, but there was a peace to him that I had never seen.

“Thank you,” he breathed, his voice deep.

My entire body lightened at the husky sound of his voice. Behind me the wall clock chimed. One thirty. Exhaustion fell heavy on Theo’s shoulders. I watched him hunch over and drag a weary hand over his face.

I reached out until my fingers touched the top of his hand. He turned a fraction and stared at my fingers on top of his.

My hand moved on its own; my fingers curled around his palm and he followed as I somehow led him from the kitchen to my small bedroom. With barely a pause in the doorway, I took him to the bed.

Moonlight peeked through the curtains and cast a shadowed white glow throughout the room. I pulled back my top sheet and fixed my new quilt with my free hand before gently directing Theo to lie down. He kept his eyes on me but let me help him into the bed. Once lowered to his side, I pulled the soft sheet and quilt over him. I wanted to stay. The pull I felt was so strong, it was physically difficult to step away. But I tried anyway. He didn’t let go. He held on tighter.

The deep darkness in his eyes had returned, tightening his face. And with it, another emotion I couldn’t name. I stood there for a long minute.
What did he want me to do?
His thoughts were jumbled, his wants as confused as mine. My fingers began to tingle from the strength of his grip. Hesitantly, I moved toward the foot of the bed. I had to stretch my arm to keep our hands together. Crawling on hands and knees, I fumbled over his legs and lay beside him. He closed his eyes and tightened his grip, clutching my hand over his heart.

After several motionless minutes, his breathing slowed to the rhythmic rumble of sleep. His scent surrounded me. I sighed and let my body curve into his. It felt so good to be wrapped around him, but I couldn’t relax. I let my mind wander as I held him in the darkness.

I hadn’t heard them coming. Father and Uncle Max had been traveling—a brief reprieve for me. I had even watched some TV before drifting off to sleep. Malcolm and Markus had taken advantage, of course, but a quick snap of Malcolm’s forearm had gained me some down time. Markus would never come after me alone
.

I woke screaming, reaching for my legs. There was only blood. My knees were gone, shattered. Father was back and he stood beside the bed, a sledgehammer resting on his shoulder. My vision blurred from the pain as I struggled to breathe. I couldn’t feel anything below my hips
.

“Listen to him!” Father shouted at me
.

I blinked several times, trying to focus. Other men’s thoughts swirled around me. But I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see. God, my legs! Father’s hand stung as it slapped across my face
.

“I said, listen to him!”

Two guards stood like a wall at Father’s back. Thick and drugged, their minds rarely saw past their orders. But this time there was something real there—fear. Between them was a man. Bloody, beaten, barely conscious
. Welcome to the club
. His hands were restrained behind his back. He sat heavy on his knees, on the brink of passing out. A moan escaped his lips. “Can’t…”

Father’s boot slammed into the man’s side. He moved so fast I missed it. He turned to me again. “Do it, damn it! Listen to him!”

For I moment my mind blanked. Father wanted something from me. Something real and useful—to listen to this man’s thoughts and find something specific. Against my will a strange warmth rose inside me
.

I shut down the feeling immediately. Where was Uncle Max?

The guards shifted and their thoughts grew clear. This was the last survivor of a terrorist family who had inadvertently stolen the wrong plane. They had thought they were hijacking drugs. They had ended up with guns. Weapons en route to a foreign dignitary Uncle Max was trying to woo. The rest of his family was here. Or they had been before Uncle Max had spent the day with them. But Uncle Max couldn’t breach this man’s mind. He’d literally worn himself out of power
.

Father dragged the man over to the bed and tossed him on top of me. His body sprawled over my broken legs. A wave of pain shot up my spine. I gasped. Father picked the sledgehammer back up
.

“Wha-what do you need me to find?”

He hesitated with the enormous mallet poised to swing. “Where are our guns?” His growled words were not human. Not at all
.

Matted, bloody hair hid the man’s face. But through the blood, he lifted his head and met my eyes
. Oh…no
. He didn’t know. He’d told them he didn’t know. Over and over. But they hadn’t believed him, not without Uncle Max confirming it
.

I took a deep breath and stamped down the pain. No point in dwelling on it now. There would only be more
.

Sitting as straight as possible, I looked at Father. “He doesn’t know.”

His anger swelled through the room. The mirror shattered. The bed shook. For a terrifying moment he questioned my honesty. But he dismissed the thought quickly. After all, why would I lie?

As quickly as his anger had appeared, he reined it in. He smoothed back his dark hair, brushed off his sleeves, returned to the disciplined posture he gave the public eye. With a sniff, he looked down on the crumpled man once more. Then he turned for the door
.

Was that it? He wasn’t going to slam that sledgehammer into my skull? Or use one of those pocketknives he always carried to “kill” the messenger?

At the door, he paused. I tensed
. Here it comes
. He flicked his wrist and the man’s neck snapped. His shuddering body became dead weight on my legs. But his head kept turning. The bones of his neck cracked and scraped until his head was turned at a completely unnatural angle, his open eyes staring right at me
.

One of the guards stepped forward. “No,” Father commanded. “Leave him.”

Then he turned and left the room. And the two guards followed, shutting the door behind them. The man’s body was heavy on my shins—just far enough away that I couldn’t reach him without moving my lower body. And Father had made damn sure that wasn’t going to happen
.

So we’d spent the night like that. Me alive, wishing I was dead. And Father’s terrorist, lying on top of me, his dead eyes unable to look away
.

…

There was no fear or nausea lying with Theo. No pain. Just…calm. My hand was still clasped over his heart. His steady snores faltered. I held my breath as he slowly stretched his body.

Relaxing again, he rubbed his hands over his face and rolled onto his back. Eyes still closed, he moved his hand to his chest and felt around like he was searching for something. I flexed my hand to regain some circulation and his eyes popped open. Immediately, he saw my hand and grabbed it like a lifeline. Only when my palm was clutched once more over his heart did he settle back on the bed.

“How are you feeling?” I whispered.

“I’m good…I think. Sore, but good.” His voice was rough from sleep. “I didn’t know you could do that. Enter someone’s mind like that from a distance.”

I swallowed. “I didn’t know I could do that either. I—I’ve never done anything like that before. I wasn’t sure it was even real until you showed up here like that.”

He just stared at me. I cleared my throat and asked, “How did you get here? I couldn’t, um, sense you anymore after you made it to the highway. How did you get back to your car?”

He looked down at where our joined hands rested on his chest. Softly, he rubbed his thumb across the backs of my knuckles.

“I’d made it about a mile on the highway,” he said, “when there was a guy being pulled over for drunk driving. The cop had him out of the car and doing the sobriety test. I waited until he arrested the guy and left the car for a tow truck. I hotwired it and drove it here. I figured I’d return it to the address on the registration.”

“You can hotwire a car?”

“You learn to develop your own special abilities working for the Network.”

The sun threatened morning light and I could see him a little better now. His eyes looked tired, but still alert—like somehow the predator in him never really went to sleep. His hand looked huge on top of mine and his continuous rubbing turned more into a caress.

“It was like you were right there with me,” he said softly. “I could hear you as if you were right next to me. And when you moved, I could actually feel you inside me.” He frowned again. “You’ve really never done anything like that before?”

My voice stuck in my throat. The way his fingers felt on my hand, I couldn’t help but picture them caressing other parts of me as well. What was his question?

I swallowed twice, then finally said, “I’ve been in people’s heads before, but I’ve never been inside someone so…completely before. Not ever.”

He nodded. I wanted to move closer to him but wasn’t sure if that would shut down this new openness between us. How could a feeling so strong seem so fragile?

“Why did you do it, then?” he asked. “I mean, did…did you know they were going to take me?”

Ice exploded in my chest, stealing my breath. The accusation was like a physical blow, only worse. I yanked my hand away. With both hands he snatched it back.

“I didn’t know you were taken until I was in your head!” I snapped. “And even then, I didn’t know it was
you
, not at first. I just fell asleep and woke up tied to that chair.”

“OK,” he said quickly, pulling me back toward him. “OK, I believe you.”

And he did. With absolute certainty, he believed me. So when both his thumbs began rubbing lightly from my fingers to my wrist, I let him. After a few minutes, I settled back into his side.
A few minutes more and it was like the pierce of his words had never happened. All I could feel was his hand on mine.

“So why
do
you think you were able to get in my head?” He studied my face. “Why me?” he whispered.

“I don’t know,” I whispered back. “You were drugged. Maybe that opened your mind to me, allowed me to slip in. Or maybe it was something else.”

We lay there in silence for a long while, just looking at each other.

“That was your mother, wasn’t it?” I finally whispered. “The woman that you saw?”

His thumbs froze midmassage.
Crap
. Why the hell didn’t I just keep my mouth shut?

“Never mind,” I said quickly. “It’s none of my business.”

“It’s OK,” he said. “Yeah, that was my mom. I never saw her look that bad, though. She died when I was fifteen. I hadn’t seen her for years.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault. Hell, it wasn’t even her fault. Her family turned her into that.”

“What do you mean?”

He took a deep breath. “My mother was sixteen when she got pregnant by her dealer. Her dad was a Chicago bigwig in retail and couldn’t handle the scandal. So instead of sending her to rehab or getting her an abortion, they just threw her out. She had me and we lived with her dealer until social services found me and put me in foster care.”

His thumbs started moving again.

“I looked up her family once when I was ten,” he continued. “They live in some mansion outside the city. You should see the house—all decked out in European columns and trellises. They
even have this scrolled iron sign in some old-world language at the gate to their driveway, showing off their culture and heritage. It was all so different from where I lived…it wasn’t like anything you went through—not by a long shot—but it wasn’t a fun life.”

He closed his eyes and pulled on my hand, drawing me into his side until my cheek rested on his shoulder. He took a deep breath and I sensed a release in him, like he was somehow lighter now. He turned his face into my hair and sighed.

I was tired too. And lighter. Like talking with Theo had somehow removed something from both of us. Or maybe shifted the weight of it. A strange awareness slowly dawned on me as I lay there. Maybe somehow, with Theo, maybe I could forget the evil that lived inside me. Maybe I could actually forget that I was a Kelch. Maybe together…

Theo opened his eyes. My thoughts scattered. He was so close. When he took a deep breath, our cheeks brushed. His lips parted and I closed my eyes. The contours of my body fit perfectly against his. So warm, so safe. His hand moved against my hip and I slid even closer, searching. My own lips parted so I could taste his breath on my tongue. He lowered his face.