C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-EIGHT
“C
ome in, ladies.”
Dean pitched his voice low and friendly as he sprawled in a chair, tipping it back on two legs. It was the slick tone he used when he wanted something. He looked as if he’d been roughing it recently with streaks of dirt smeared on his face and his blond curls greasy. His flannel shirt and jeans were filthy, as if he’d been tramping through the woods.
Lucy had no idea what my stepfather looked like, but she understood the danger of the stranger before her. My sister clutched the forgotten bag of ice cream, like an animal caught in the sights of a snake about to strike.
Dean’s smile sharpened, his hand tightening on the weapon. He motioned at Lucy with a lazy wave of the gun, and my heart threatened to stop. “Why don’t you both toss me your phones?”
We slid them across the floor, and he pocketed them.
“What are you doing here, Dean? We don’t have any money. At least not enough to matter once the cops find out where you are. You must’ve set off the alarm, and I’d say you’ve violated the restraining order we took out against you.”
He laughed. “You forget. I installed alarms for a living once. The police aren’t coming.”
I had forgotten that. At one time I’d suspected him of using his skills to break into those homes, but he’d been fired from that job before he got caught.
“As for the money,” he continued. “I have another reason for being here.”
“Revenge,” I said, with flat certainty.
The chair legs hit the floor, and Dean dropped the relaxed façade. “Oh, yeah. Revenge,” he said, softly. “Six hours in a jail cell with a dislocated shoulder. You did that. I lost everything because of you, bitch. Want to know how I got through it? I imagined wrapping my fingers around your throat and squeezing.”
His eyes closed as if he were lost in the memory, and his lips curved in a smile. Lucy began crying, and he continued, “Shh . . . this is my favorite part when I stare into your pretty blue eyes, princess, and you realize you’re gonna die.”
Lucy whimpered, and I considered striking him down right then. It would be so easy to break his neck. Except he had the gun and my new powers were unpredictable, at best. I’d get one shot to hurt him, and if I failed, I’d be too weak to protect Lucy. Asher’s voice shouted in my head for me to be smart and wait for an opening. Dean’s eyes snapped open, narrowing to dangerous slits when I moved a few inches away from Lucy to divide his attention. The rage in his voice was a riptide towing me under an ocean of fear.
“Of course, it’d never work. You’d just turn the pain back on me and heal yourself. That’s when it occurred to me.” He tapped a finger to his head like a lightbulb had gone off. “People’d pay for your talents.”
“Remy, what’s he talking about?” Lucy’s voice quivered.
“Nothing.” I’d been so desperate to keep the truth from my family. It killed me to have Dean spill my secrets. Everything I’d done, all the lies I’d told, hadn’t kept Lucy safe.
Dean grinned. “You didn’t tell them you’re a mutant?” He turned to Lucy. “Your sister, here, can do real special things. Like heal broken bones with her mind. Or break them.”
I ignored Lucy’s confusion and stared at Dean with hatred. “Why don’t we test that theory on you, Dean?”
He whistled through his teeth. “Aren’t you the brave one?”
“Why don’t you get to the point?” I said, bitterly.
“What’s your hurry, Remy? We’ve got all night with your parents out of town. They left you a real sweet message on the machine to tell you they’d check in with you tomorrow.”
He’d been watching and waiting for a chance to strike.
“I saw you,” I said. “I saw you out at Fort Rowden.”
“Mmm. I nearly took you then. I thought about killing your daddy in front of you.”
More likely he’d been intimidated by the size of my father and slunk away in the dark. “You could’ve gotten to me a thousand times in these last weeks. What were you waiting for?”
“This.” He held up an object I hadn’t noticed on the table. My iPod. “Your mother interrupted me before I could listen to the whole thing, and I think it’s time we got to know each other better, girl.”
Dean rose and motioned to us with the gun. “Into the living room. We’re gonna do a little show-and-tell.”
Lucy didn’t move, and I shook her until she dropped the bag of ice cream. Her shocked eyes met mine. “You’ll be okay. I’ll get you out of this. Trust me, all right?”
She gave a tiny nod, and I tugged her by the hand to the living room, placing my body between her and Dean as he followed. He purposely stayed out of reach, I noted with growing anxiety. In the living room, he motioned for Lucy and me to sit on the couch while he moved toward the cabinet that held Ben’s sound system. Dean popped the mp3 player into its slot on the stereo, fiddled with some buttons, and Anna’s voice filled the room.
“Remy. Hi, baby. You probably wondered why you got an iPod . . .”
Dean searched out Ben’s liquor cabinet next, holding up a bottle of tequila in triumph. He uncapped the bottle and took a huge swig as Anna explained that she’d made the recording to tell me the truth about who I was. I understood Dean’s motive. The secret to controlling me hid in my mother’s stories, and I was suddenly glad my mother hadn’t known everything about me.
“Enough. This isn’t an apology.”
Dean grinned with enjoyment and swilled another ounce of my father’s liquor. “That must’ve burned.”
He knew the anger and hurt I’d felt listening to Anna. A master manipulator, he understood what her silence had done to me. My stomach burned watching him take pleasure in another of Anna’s betrayals.
She got to the part about how my powers had developed, recapturing his attention, and Lucy squeezed my hand. Disbelief colored her features. She thought Dean and Anna were crazy for believing this magical nonsense. She desperately needed to think that this was all a bad dream, and I could only squeeze her hand back in weak reassurance.
Dean listened to my mother talk about how she’d loved the popular Tom, and he shook his head with a mocking laugh. “Geez, your mother was pathetic, even back then.”
“And yet you married her. What does that make you?” I said.
Dean’s lip curled in warning, the way it did when he would hit me. “Smart. Why do you think I married her when she had a brat in tow? She did whatever I told her to, and the generous checks from your daddy kept on rolling in, princess.”
“. . . rumors spread like wildfire in our small town. It was just a matter of time before the Protectors heard them and hunted us.”
Dean frowned at this new piece of information. He almost growled, “What the hell are Protectors?”
Misdirection seemed to be my only option, and I shrugged. “Got me. Anna was obviously insane. She called me a Healer.” I said the last word with my fingers hooked in exaggerated quotes, mocking both Anna and Dean with the gesture. “And you’re just as bad. The things you think I can do are impossible. Any sane person would know that.”
Dean took a threatening step toward me, amber liquid sloshing in the bottle in his hand. “I know you healed your mother all those years. You broke my ribs and dislocated my shoulder. Lying isn’t going to save you.”
Refusing to show fear, I met Dean’s glare with a cool stare and swallowed the bile rising in my throat. “Who’s lying? We fought, a mirror shattered, and you hit the floor, landing on your shoulder. You seriously need a reality check.”
Anna’s voice filled the tense silence.
“Two men—Protectors—had come to our home because of rumors they’d heard. They suspected my mother was a Healer and hurt my father to force my mother to choose between betraying her secret and watching him die. When she healed him, they murdered her. . . . ”
A smile twisted Dean’s lips. The gun swerved toward Lucy.
“No!”
The shot left me no time to react. One moment Lucy sat next to me, clutching my hand in a death grip. In the next she’d fallen sideways with a red stain blooming at the waist across the thin cotton of her tee. Her guttural scream nearly broke the hold I had on my control. Dean waved the gun when I would have reached for her.
“I want to see what you can do, but I’m not stupid. Try to touch me, and I’ll shoot her again. Only next time it will be in the head. Got it?”
My choppy nod satisfied him, and he waved me on. I sank down on my knees next to the couch, and Lucy’s hand clawed at mine, her brown eyes latching on to me in pain. Blood oozed from a hole the size of a nickel in her side. Lifting her shirt out of the way, I pressed my free hand to the wound to slow the bleeding while I scanned her. The bullet had gone through her side, missing her organs, but she was losing too much blood, too fast. If I didn’t close the wound, she’d die.
She moaned when I put more pressure on her side. “Please, don’t. It hurts.”
“Hold on, Luce,” I breathed. “I’m going to help you.” Stripping off my jacket, I balled it up under my sister to slow the blood flow leaking from the exit wound and placed my other hand on her stomach. My first priority had to be sanitizing the injury. Otherwise, I could close the skin with the ingredients for an infection brewing inside her.
I snarled at Dean. “Give me the bottle! I need to clean the wound before I can heal it.”
Instead of handing the tequila to me, he chose another bottle from the cabinet and sent it rolling across the floor with a shove of his boot. Grabbing it, I poured the fiery liquid over the burnt holes. Lucy sobbed, and I wanted to cry right along with her as I held her down. I tossed the empty bottle away and placed my hand back on her stomach.
Closing my eyes, I concentrated on sending my energy into her body. The bullet had torn through skin, tissue, and muscle. All repairable, but the blood . . . It was hard to focus when my sister lay dying under my hand. I took a deep, calming breath. As fast as I could, I repaired the torn tissues and muscle, beginning on the damaged inside and working my way outward. It took a few minutes, but the bleeding stopped.
“Son of a bitch.” Dean’s amazed whisper barely registered as Lucy’s skin pulled together at the rough edges of the bullet entry. The gaping wound disappeared and all that remained was gunpowder residue and blood. The exit wound had closed, too, but she looked so pale.
Lucy’s eyes flickered open. “Remy?” Her voice sounded stronger, and relief flooded through me.
Shoving back from my awkward position suspended over Lucy, I glared at Dean. “You want me alive to make your fortune? You better get ready to play doctor, you bastard, because I don’t know that I’ll have the strength to stop the bleeding.”
Dean frowned at Lucy’s stomach. “What the hell are you talking about? You can’t even tell I shot her.”
Taking a deep breath for strength, I lifted my hands from Lucy. Blue sparks arced between us, and she gasped. Then, my awareness narrowed to gut-tearing pain as my flesh tore open and hot liquid pooled at my side. Collapsing on the floor, my vision narrowed to Lucy’s face as she hovered over me. A high-pitched sound reached me, and I realized she cried with fear. It hurt to bring myself back to awareness, but I couldn’t leave her alone with Dean.
“Remy? Oh, please, please. I don’t know what to do. Tell me what to do!”
“Towels . . . stop bleeding.”
Lucy jumped to her feet and froze when Dean trained the weapon on her again. He threatened, “You’re not back in twenty seconds, I kill her. And then I come looking for you.”
She must have nodded because he let her go, the soles of her shoes squeaking across the wood floor. Dean kneeled nearby just out of my reach, surveying the damage to my body.
“You kept a few secrets of your own, didn’t you, girl? I can see I’ll have to rethink my plans. Profits go down if you die the first time out.”
My lips pressed together to restrain my furious response, and I shivered with the aftermath of healing. Lucy returned with the towels, and I instructed her through chattering teeth to compress them against my side as hard as she could. Gray spots pressed on my eyes, and I struggled to stay conscious. When I was able, I focused my energy on stemming the loss of blood. Too weak to heal the twin holes in my side, I slowed the flow of blood until it congealed.
Lucy hiccupped. “Remy?”
My eyes caught on her, and I did my best to assure her. “’M okay, Luce. Just weak. Is how my ’bilities work.”
She choked on a sob. “What he said is true. You have powers.”
I winced. “Yeah, Luce.”
Dean interrupted us by shoving Lucy aside. “Why aren’t you healing yourself? If this is a trick—”
I glared at him. “Need . . . time to rest.”
The wheels turned in his mind, and a light came on. His eyes raked over Lucy’s body, as if considering ways to fill the time. “You know, I was going to kill your sister, but maybe I’ll just shoot her every so often to keep you in check.”