The Unwanted (A Novella of the FBI Psychics) (8 page)

“Okay.” Caleb blew out a breath. “Do you need me?”

She could feel the warmth of his presence, hovering just beyond herself and all she had to do was reach for him. “No.”
Yes
…but she wasn’t going to lose herself in the relaxing comfort of his presence yet. She needed to feel everything the girl had felt for now. “I’m good. I just need to be…somewhere.”

Her instincts would take her to the right spot.

They started up the path away from the library, heading toward the Rotunda. “She’s going to medical school,” Destin said quietly, tuning back into the pain, the vision slicing into her.

“Yes. Her father died of cancer.”

Of course, he knew. He would have read all about the victims, as much as he could find anyway. She had to take that in bit by bit or it colored too much of what she was searching for.

The knowledge hurt even more. It was an old, familiar pain, all that bright and determined hope, so carelessly damaged.

“She hasn’t gone home.”

“No.” He glanced over at her. “Four others did. She hasn’t.”

Destin nodded. A wash of darkness crept across her field of vision, followed by a flicker of bright lights, the ghostly echo of laughter. “There…” She stumbled into him. He steadied her with his hand on her arm.

“Easy,” he murmured. “I got you.”

He passed a hand down her hair. “Let me in now, Destin.”

“No.” She shook her head, hating that she was tempted. So tempted. “Not yet.”

This was what she had to do. She’d rely on him later, but for now, this was up to her. This was what she’d been made for. She hated their suffering, their pain. This was what she needed. But as much as she hated their pain, there was a part of her that lived for this, because this was how she brought down monsters.

She was every bit as monstrous as they were, she thought…waiting for the next job, living for the next time she could go on a chase like this. It didn’t matter that she worked to hunt them down, make them stop.

They were predators who loved to cause fear…and she was a predator who loved to hunt them.

Monsters, the lot of them, and she was no better. Without them, she had no purpose.

Her feet stumbled on the path as the darkness edged in closer. If Caleb hadn’t been so close, she might have gone to the ground. “Easy,” he murmured, sliding an arm around her waist. Anybody watching them would think they were just walking arm and arm, but he was all but carrying her now, the weakness draining out of her as the connection deepened.

….laughing…why is he laughing…
the confusion from the girl tore into her. Confusion, a fog of fear.

“Shit, Destin,” he muttered. “You should have said it was coming at you this hard. How bad is it going to be?”

“It’s not going to be bad,” she said, her voice thick as they settled onto a low-lying brick wall and stared back toward the library. “It’s just strong.”

From here, she could see where the girl had stumbled through the doors just after the library had opened in the morning. Three months ago, and the remnants of what had been done to her still lingered.

All those bits and pieces worked together into a fabric, forming a more cohesive image, her breath coming in harsh, heavy pants as image after image slammed into her.

His face…she could
almost
see his face.

Through her lashes, she stared at the walkway, already seeing vague echoes of that night superimposing itself over what was taking place now.

“Not bad?” Caleb echoed.

She dragged her attention back to the present and focused on Caleb, staring at him through her lashes. His dark brown eyes were locked on her face, intense, staring at her like he was trying to see clear through to her soul. Once upon a time, she’d thought maybe he could. But those days were done.

“You’re white as a ghost and stumbling. You can’t fight it off and you’re trying to tell me it’s not bad?” he said.

“It’s not.” She swallowed and dashed the back of her hand over her mouth. “It’s strong. Felt the echoes off and on all day. I can push it off if I have to, but it’s
right
there and I think I need to see what it’s trying to show me now.”

She felt his surprise. She’d never been able to fight them back before. But then again, she’d never been that interested in trying. Control had become vital for her, though.

“Talk to me,” she said as the darkness tugged on her harder and harder. “Tell me something about her, about the girl.” He’d know. He would have gone through every last detail he could get his hands on.

Taut seconds stretched out between them and slowly, he started to speak. “She was in here until it closed. It’s one of the smaller libraries—they’ve got four on the campus, but from what I can tell, they all stay pretty busy. According to the police report, she remembers leaving…”

As he talked, she closed her eyes and let her mind drift with his voice until she placed herself there. And then she
was
there. Back with the girl…back
within
the girl.

It came on hard, fast.

Too cold…shouldn’t have stayed so late. Why didn’t I bring a jacket—oh, hey, look who is here—
features…Destin could barely make them out, but she made a mental catalog of them and something about them was familiar.
Look at him closer, let me see him…
but she knew it was useless. All of this had already happened and she couldn’t change the events. She’d have to take her clues from what was already there to find.

Still, if she’d seen him before, when she saw him again, she’d know.

Something is off…
in the part of her mind where Destin was still herself, she realized that, knew it. She
should
be able to get her mind to settle better, lock in better on the assailant. But she couldn’t get a better lock and she couldn’t alter or shift things that had already happened.

He’s so fucking hot. Why can’t he be a student…
Destin seized on that thought.
That…
now
that
was useful.

So nice, so funny…but my dad would kill me…oh, screw it. Why do I always have to be the good girl…I can have a fucking beer if I want, right? He’s not going to tell on me, right?
This was the point where Destin would have mentally shied away, if she knew what was good for her, because she already knew what was coming.

Gross. This is nasty. Why do people drink…
That was the last clear thought.

After that, everything was clouded and muzzy. She would have been drugged, Destin suspected. As quick as her thoughts went from clear and bright to dark and clouded, there was no way a beer had hit her that hard.

So cold…oh, he has nice hands. I like that. Wait—

Have to stop.
Fear tried to push in. Destin felt that flicker of fear ignite her rage, but she battled it down. No more blind rages. Not for her. She didn’t give in to them, didn’t feel them, and didn’t feed on them.

Vague memories of a calming, deep voice, teasing and soft. That quick, light burn of lust, dazed heat.
Okay…maybe some more beer instead. Yeah…no. Wait. Have to stop…scholarship.

Cold. So cold—

Oh. That’s nice…
the thoughts got blurrier then. The confusion and chaos grew stronger
.

Wait—who is that?
A voice. The girl didn’t see anybody, but that voice, she knew that voice. A smell, one that triggered instant panic assaulted her, and through the bond of memories, Destin as well.

No, no, no, nononono…what are you doing here?

Clear thought burst through the confusion. Panic.

What is going on—

And then the pain started.

Caleb kept his hands on Destin’s even when she flinched and pull away from him. She moaned quietly and all he wanted to do was push inside
now
, use his ability to cut through what she was picking up on and stop the pain.

But now wasn’t the time.

If he intruded now, she might miss something she needed to see to stop this.

So instead of pushing inside and filtering the pain away, he shared it with her.

It was one thing she’d never realized he could do and maybe there wasn’t any point to it, but he wouldn’t let her suffer alone.

Just as he hadn’t let her suffer her nightmares alone.

When the girl tried to scream, Caleb knew the reason nobody heard was because somebody had clamped a hand over her mouth and he felt the same sensation of smothering that Destin now suffered. The pain that had her sweating and trembling gripped him as well.

And when the connection ended, he lowered his head and focused on the scarred wooden surface of the picnic table. Destin would need a few minutes to settle back inside her skin after that and he’d use it because he needed to settle himself.

It hadn’t been just one son of a bitch who’d hurt the girl.

The police report hadn’t made any mention of that, but the girl had been confused and scared when it started, then it only got worse. She’d been dumped out behind the library, unconscious, and had stayed out there all night, the doctors believed. Her clothes had been torn. Her panties, wool tights and one leather boot had been missing. She had been one of the victims with more serious bruising, but nothing had led the police to believe there was more than one perpetrator.

But Destin’s vision had been pretty clear.

The girl had been held down by one man while another raped her.

Whether or not
both
men had assaulted her, Caleb didn’t know. The girl had lost consciousness during the assault. Tests at the hospital had proven inconclusive as to whether or not she’d been slipped any sort of drugs that might have incapacitated her.

Caleb was certain she’d been given something. The confusion in the memories Destin had lifted from the vision were too muddled for anything else, and that had started
before
the rape.

Some of the more popular date-rape drugs left the system pretty damn quick and she’d been outside, unconscious, alone, for hours, and then it had taken the college another hour to get her to the hospital while they wrung their hands and worried about this latest attack.

Two perpetrators.

This changed the game.

Untangling his hands from Destin’s, he swiped one over his forehead and then pressed the heels against his eye sockets, waiting for his brain to settle, the rage to fade.

They’d find them. They’d find them, stop them.

That was all they could do.

It wasn’t enough.

But then again, it never had been.

Sucking in a breath as the connection abruptly ended, Destin closed her eyes and groaned. Disjointed thoughts, sensation and images circled through her head. The connection had ended, but it was like she was still in the middle of a download and the shit she downloaded was like a video straight out of hell.

Across from her, Caleb waited. Patient and quiet, unperturbed.

It was beyond fucked up that she was in this kind of turmoil and he was like the Rock of Gibraltar, she thought disgustedly.

Man, what she wouldn’t give to let him take some of these nightmares for a while.

“It’s coming,” she said sourly. “Too much of it.”

He held out a hand.

As their palms touched, she felt him reaching out, felt his shields lower.

She lowered hers, almost eagerly, ready to let him ease some of the noise away.

The confusion in her head faded almost instantly. The pain. The fear.

All of it gone…and then she opened her eyes, staring at the small building just off to the side of the parking lot.

“There were two of them there that night,” she said quietly. “And one of them was a security guard.”

Chapter Seven

“You need to rest.”

Destin flicked him a glance as she pushed through the doors to the library. She’d rest soon enough. It wasn’t going to be that long before she dropped like a stone. Might as well wring every last bit of information from her brain as she could before that happened, she supposed.

“She came in here,” she murmured, following the fading buzz of emotions. It was a tenuous connection and getting weaker all the time, but it was still strong enough for her to follow. “She could barely walk, she hurt so bad.”

In the back of her mind, something dark and ugly stirred, crowding its way into her mind and taking over.

It wasn’t conscious thought. Images. Feelings. Almost like memory, but not quite. Flashes of terror. Hands that held her down. A brutally strong body.

Ugly laughter. The laughter was the worst.

These flashes seemed to get worse lately. The more control she had of her visions, the more
these
seemed to control her and the worse the cases got, the worse these…echoes…seemed to be.

A minimum of seven rapes and the man was having fun with it, taking pleasure in hurting, controlling. Using.

It was going to get worse.

It would be nice to take the calmer cases. Or even the bloody, brutal ones that dealt with the dead.