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- Herausgeber: Valley Publishing Ltd.
- Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
- Sprache: Englisch
This is the 9th Psychic Visions Novel from USA Today Bestselling author Dale Mayer.
When something happens that shatters a life beyond recognition, what becomes of the soul?
Trapped in a gilded cage for as long as she can remember, Hannah has tried to escape numerous times, in countless ways. She's been told all along that there's something wrong with her, something that her doctors can't diagnose. But what is life without freedom? Hannah would rather die than stay imprisoned forever.
Another escape, once more the door slams shut with her locked behind it. Then Trevor offers her a way out, one that might actually mean permanent liberation for her. But at what cost? Trevor doesn't know the truth about her. Despite her fear that he'll be like all the others and turn away from her in horror, she longs to share her secret with him.
Trevor has worked hard to make up for all the mistakes he's made in his life. Helping Tia feels like the right thing to do – more than anything else he's ever done. But, to free her, the risks he takes asks more of him than he thought possible.
After all, enemies aren't only outside in the world. Some are inside us… we just don’t know it…
The Psychic Vision Series
1.Tuesday’s Child
2.Hide’n Go Seek
3.Maddy’s Floor
4.Garden of Sorrow
5.Knock, Knock…
6.Rare Find
7.Eyes to the Soul
8.Now You See Her…
9.Shattered
10.Into the Abyss…
11.Seeds of Malice
12.Eye of the Falcon
13.Itsy Bitsy Spider
14.Unmasked
15.Deep Beneath
16.From the Ashes
Das E-Book können Sie in Legimi-Apps oder einer beliebigen App lesen, die das folgende Format unterstützen:
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2016
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Shattered
A Psychic Visions Novel
Dale Mayer
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
About This Book
Complimentary Download
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
About Into the Abyss
Sneak Peek from Into the Abyss
About Simon Says…
Author’s Note
Complimentary Download
About the Author
Copyright Page
About This Book
When something happens that shatters a life beyond recognition, what becomes of the soul?
Trapped in a gilded cage for as long as she can remember, Hannah has tried to escape numerous times, in countless ways. She’s been told all along that something’s wrong with her, something that her doctors can’t diagnose. But what is life without freedom? Hannah would rather die than stay imprisoned forever.
Another escape and, once more, the door slams shut, with her locked behind it.
Then Trevor offers her a way out, one that might mean permanent liberation for her. But at what cost? Trevor doesn’t know the truth about her. Despite her fear that he’ll be like all the others and turn away from her in horror, she longs to share her secret with him.
Trevor has worked hard to make up for all the mistakes he’s made in his life. Helping Hannah feels like the right thing to do—more than anything else he’s ever done. But, to free her, the risks he takes ask more of him than he thought possible.
After all, enemies aren’t only outside in the world. Some are inside us. We just don’t know it …
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KILL OR BE KILLED
Part of an elite SEAL team, Mason takes on the dangerous jobs no one else wants to do—or can do. When he’s on a mission, he’s focused and dedicated. When he’s not, he plays as hard as he fights.
Until he meets a woman he can’t have but can’t forget. Software developer Tesla lost her brother in combat and has no intention of getting close to someone else in the military. Determined to save other US soldiers from a similar fate, she’s created a program that could save lives. But other countries know about the program, and they won’t stop until they get it—and get her.
Time is running out. … For her. … For him. … For them …
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Chapter 1
The blood …
It wouldn’t slow.
It wouldn’t stop.
It dripped down her arm, her hands. Droplets falling from her fingertips.
Only she felt no pain …
Except when she moved.
Hannah managed to take one step, then another. Her weight came down hard, her legs wooden. Her ankles stiff, unbending lumber blocks.
The motion jarring.
More blood flowed.
It dripped in a slow and steady stream onto the gravel beneath her feet. She was taking a big risk of being hit by a car, stumbling unseen in the dark on this narrow road, with no real shoulders, but she felt it was the only way.
Hannah watched the drips in macabre fascination. Where was it coming from?
Her head pounded. Her body throbbed. And her legs? Well, they’d been screaming for miles.
She had no idea where she was, how she got here, or why she would be walking along this lonely stretch of highway. Yet she knew she had to continue. It was important. She just didn’t know why. And, of course, it was dark—black. The moon argued with the clouds above, giving her brief moments of luminescence. A heavy dampness clung to her nose.
A couple vehicles had passed her. But no one had stopped to help.
Why?
Surely she was visible? She carefully took another step and then one more. Someone would help her eventually. Right? She had to keep moving forward. She knew there was no going back. There was no other choice.
Keep walking. You’re almost there, a soft male voice inside her head directed her.
“Where am I going?” She sobbed to the empty night.
Somewhere safe. I can help you.
Who spoke to her?
What if it was him? The man she’d been running from. At least she thought it had been a man. Or what if another person found her and didn’t help her? She could become a victim again.
Those horrible images. Fights. Fire. Screams. All intermixed with sex scenes. Like that made any sense.
She gave a short, harsh laugh. She had no idea whether she’d been a victim or a victimizer. But it felt like she’d been beaten to shit and left to die. Her body injured. Her mind vulnerable. Weak. She frowned, trying to figure out the disjointed thoughts in her head. Her memories were fragmented, refusing to flow as they should. Was she okay? Had she been in an accident? Attacked?
Nothing felt normal or right. Nothing felt familiar, as if she was in someone else’s nightmare.
A strange set of thoughts ran through her mind, telling her she was supposed to do something. Were they her thoughts? How could they be?
Two separate people were arguing inside her head. Someone pushing her to do something. Someone calling her away. Someone who could foretell the future?
Or was Hannah just arguing with herself, considering all angles, no matter how weird?
And then she was trying to stop other thoughts. He wanted to remove her. He wanted to hurt someone she loved. He’d tried to hurt him earlier today.
No, someone else had tried.
And failed, she thought.
But everything was mixed up. The thoughts were coated in fear and spiked with anger. And the words? Foreign, as if they weren’t hers. Flashes of a young girl. Then an older one. A knife. Screams. All disjointed. Nothing made any sense. Confused and worried, she turned to stare at the trail of blood behind her, as she walked forward.
Of course she wasn’t okay. She hadn’t been okay for a long time.
More disconnected memories came to her mind. More foggy thoughts. Why hadn’t she been okay for a long time?
Doctors flitted into her mind—in, then out again. Different men. Women. Names and titles all whispered through her mind and back again. She had no idea what or who they were. … Even worse, she had no idea why they were walking in an endless stream through her bedroom. She tried to focus, to force the tidbits into a coherent pattern, and pain slammed into her brain, bringing her to a shuddering stop. She bent over, gasping.
The pain, extreme, … yet familiar.
That worried her. No one should have to experience pain for so long that it became familiar. Was that why the stream of doctors? Had she been in several accidents? Was she suicidal? Born with a physical ailment that needed multiple surgeries?
A vehicle approached, the headlight beams flashing on her sleeve, before zipping past.
A sob escaped, as the red tail lights disappeared into the distance. They hadn’t even slowed down. Still, the headlights had shown her something.
A driveway, … just ahead. The one she’d been looking for. At least part of her thought so …
She hobbled forward, desperate for someone to be home, and yet she was terrified at the same time.
What if the wrong man lived here?
And every man could be the wrong man. She couldn’t remember who she was running from … or to.
A face zipped through her mind, only to fade too quickly for her to understand who or what that meant.
She kept walking.
Feeling the first few drops of rain, she wanted to cry.
When the thunder rumbled in the distance, the tears rolled down her cheeks in earnest. Could this night get any worse?
Every step to that driveway was one step closer to her goal. She felt a sense of inevitability to it.
She couldn’t take her eyes off the reflector on a post marking the start of the driveway. This was the right place.
That phrase stopped her. Right place?
Had she been looking for it?
Or now that she was injured—possibly dying—was she expecting a specific someone to help her?
Surely not. She studied her surroundings, trying to peer through the sheets of rain now beating down on her head. Nothing looked familiar.
She felt so terribly alone at that moment.
Why was she heading to the driveway? For help of course, right?
No, not right, but she didn’t understand the mixed messages. Everything was jumbled in her head.
She had to keep in mind that she’d been hurt and couldn’t decipher her thoughts or count on the assumptions she was making.
Yet something about this place seemed to call her. At the driveway, she slowly walked up the dirt road. It wasn’t even paved. Why?
Was she so far out in the country? She couldn’t see other lights to confirm dwellings were close by. Then again, she couldn’t see lights on the dark shadow she’d taken to be a building.
Shit.
Her mind revolted, but her feet kept moving, the incline long and slow. Eventually she reached the large trees that surrounded the house.
It was a house. That alone made her feel better. Or maybe just her feet, as they came to a stop.
She swayed in place. The rain had eased. The moon peeked through the prison of clouds to stare out at the world below.
She realized she had to be more injured than she thought, now witnessing the increasing blood flow from wounds on her body.
She focused on her surroundings, her breathing. Nothing was normal about this place. The plants were huge, the leaves oversize. A wind … or something … whispered between the plants, but, at the same time, she sensed someone waiting, … as if she’d been expected.
But that was beyond foolish.
Right?
She shuddered.
And slowly, as if compelled, she turned to face the front door. The intricate faces carved in the wood.
She shouldn’t be here. She should be running as far and as fast in the opposite direction as she could go.
Instead, her feet stepped closer to that door.
She took a deep breath, her struggle to stay upright waning. She wouldn’t make it back down this driveway. She might not even make it to the entrance. But she managed one more step.
A light flashed on overhead, covering her in a soft white, as she stood in the center of the glow.
She closed her eyes.
And waited for whatever fate was about to hit her with.
*
No. Not there.Don’t go there. You don’t understand. That’s not what I wanted. Not what I intended.
Why did you go there?
You were supposed to keep driving.
Away to safety.
This man will hurt you.
You must hurt him before then.
Attack, then run away.
All men are killers.
All men are bad.
All men will hurt you.
Run, child, run.
Oh, it’s his house. Wow. Okay, that was smart. I already tried to kill this one once. Maybe you can succeed, where I failed.
*
As days went, this had been one of the worst—and wasn’t over yet. Stefan had been working with several patients at the hospital. All newly admitted, desperately in need of help. His kind of help. And Trevor’s help. Then Dr. Trevor Johnson had been the one who’d called Stefan in.
One of the patients—a subdued slight man—had attacked without warning and had caught both Stefan and Trevor off guard. The patient hadn’t shown any violent behavior up until then. Possibly a multiple personality disorder. Yet it had erupted from one second to the next and had sideswiped both men. Stefan knew to back off and to re-balance before attempting more work, but the trigger had startled other patients, and it took everything Stefan had to control the situation.
Plus, he and Trevor had had to go to the children’s ward to see several patients. He’d gotten his center of balance back before arriving there. The energy of that ward demanded that Stefan be in the right place mentally, before he could enter.
He’d found one little girl more distant, colder than ever. So sad. They’d been making such great progress with Anita. Something was wrong inside. He was sure it was a possession issue. Maddy had been making progress—but not enough—and the child was fading before their eyes. Yet Anita had had a violent outburst today as well. Completely out of the blue, she’d lashed out at Stefan with her plastic knife and fork. It had been a mere scratch, but still … Depressed at the continuous lack of progress and afraid they were in danger of losing Anita, Stefan had come home in a rare mood.
Not wanting to taint Celina with his negativity and frustration, he’d gone directly to his art studio. But his beloved Celina always understood his moods and needs and brought her harp to play quietly beside him.
Hours later, his tensions and frustrations eased as he worked. He studied the painting in front of him and shook his head. “This one is garbage.”
Celina gently reached out to him. “If it eased your demons, it’s never a waste.”
He laughed. “True enough.” He threw down the paintbrush, wondering what insight this mess was to give him with the requisite multiple headaches. He saw some headscarved old woman but, over that, were slashes of red and black. He narrowed his gaze, his mind twisting and turning on the possibilities. Mayb—
A cry for help reached him on the ethers. The same person who’d called the last time. He’d been sending responses but hadn’t received an answer yet.
An insight, one sitting outside the reach of his consciousness, finally broke into his brain, just as someone pounded on Stefan’s front door. Someone believing he was hurting her? … Who was it?
Abruptly he was dragged from one reality to another.
And this one was so much worse.
*
Hannah stood at the front door of the stranger’s house. Something pushed her to stay. Someone else told her to run. She wavered on her feet. Then the door opened.
Slowly, carefully.
“Hannah?”
If he knew her name, she knew her worst fears had come true. She feared to look at him. She closed her eyes. Her feet, the betrayers, hadn’t understood and had led her to the worst place possible.
She opened her eyes and stared at the beautiful man in front of her.
“No,” she whispered. “It’s not possible.”
“What’s not possible?” asked the man standing in front of her, his voice so soft and caring that she wanted to cry. “What’s wrong?”
She shook her head, as he gently grabbed her arm and tugged her closer.
“You’re dead,” she stated, her voice choking up. “I know you are. You have to be,” she cried out, as the last of her strength drained from her toes. It was over. Whatever fight she’d been involved in, whatever struggle she’d been working toward? She’d lost. She didn’t even know why.
“Why do I have to be dead?” he asked, leading her through the front door and beyond.
She stared at him, trying to sort through the muddle in her head, but couldn’t. Only one thing was clear. “You have to be because I stabbed you.”
And she collapsed into his arms.
The man she knew deep inside—with as much certainty as she had ever felt in her life—she’d tried to kill once already. A man she would try to kill again, if she had the chance.
But she didn’t. And wouldn’t. She couldn’t.
He’d won after all.
Chapter 2
Hannah opened her eyes and winced. So much damn white. If she had a choice, she’d never see that color on a wall again. Surely she’d spent her whole life in rooms like this one. White ceilings, white walls, white curtains. Was it supposed to be healing or some such nonsense? Because she was sure the constant purity was making her a little sick. Maybe she’d go to hell for her thoughts, but a lot could be said for living a little and splashing all that whiteness with wild colors.
She rolled over for the tenth time, wishing her legs and ribs would stop aching. Somehow she’d hurt herself again and enough to end up in a hospital. Now, if only she could stop the hospital from contacting her family. But she was pretty sure her father already had everyone on full alert for when she showed up at the next medical facility. Not if she showed up but when. He was nothing if not thorough.
That she had no idea what had happened would be even more ammunition for him to push her back on drugs and, if not to save herself, then to save her fellow man.
Before she did something serious.
She stared down at her hands and had to wonder if it wasn’t already too late. She’d been bleeding heavily earlier, yet there didn’t appear to be a scratch on her arms or hands. She didn’t get it. But neither would she ask. If she wasn’t connected to so many tubes, she’d get up and trek to the bathroom to take a look. As it was, she felt fine, other than her legs and ribs—and if she ignored the pounding behind her eyeballs. She’d spent enough time in the hospital to learn to be closemouthed. They freaked out if you asked questions like, What happened to me? or How did I get here?
These questions burned at the tip of her tongue, but she had no intention of letting them out. Her episodes were legendary in her family. She’d spent the last ten years dodging her father’s caring, cosseting—okay, let’s be honest—suffocating version of love. He wanted her locked up in cotton batting, and she wanted to run wild and free.
Every time she’d tried though, she’d ended up in the exact same place. A hospital. Within days she’d be transferred to the private special hospital, under Dr. Bronson’s watchful eye, and he would offer that tiny lip twitch of a smile that never matched his eyes and would then let her know how happy he was to see her safe and sound and back under his care.
Then they’d go through the same dance again, where he evaluated her actions, her mind-set, and her emotional stability, and she’d lie through her teeth. After weeks of this routine, unable to find anything wrong with her, Bronson would be forced to release her into her father’s care. There she’d stay, until her father and his ugly henchmen let their guard down, and she found a way to escape.
Again.
She knew, one of these days, that her father would refuse to give her an opening to sneak out, but she couldn’t stop herself from trying.
She needed her freedom. Even if she flew and crashed—like she did every damn time—it was still better than being locked up in a cage and never tasting the fresh air of experience.
She’d even started her own business on the sly. Without Tasha, her manager, Hannah would have gone under a long time ago. This was her third episode since Tasha had started to work for her. Hannah wished she had a way to keep Tasha in the loop, but Hannah knew of no such thing. Not unless she could anticipate when the blackouts would happen. Based on Hannah’s previous episodes, Tasha would contact Hannah shortly.
In reality, Hannah needed to call her store manager, not the other way around.
Except where was her phone? She glanced around but couldn’t see it. Which meant Hannah would need to get yet another one. What was that? Her third already this year? Then again, with her faulty memory, who knew? It could have been a half dozen. Brooding, Hannah stared at the damn white sheets and wondered. What kind of excuse could she make up this time?
*
The two men stood in the grayscale world of Stefan’s reality. “You have no idea who she is?” Dr. Trevor Johnson asked, a knot of quiet humor lifting the corner of his mouth. “Wow, he who knows everything is stumped.”
“Blocked would be the correct term here,” Stefan Kronos stated blandly. “If you’re going to insult me, then do so correctly.”
Trevor laughed. “Good enough.” He studied the bloody prints on the doorway to Stefan’s house. “Have you showed these prints to anyone?”
“I have.” Stefan laughed. “A fingerprint specialist.”
Trevor frowned. “But to get a match, that would be too easy.” The fingerprints were clear and showed the fingers had been drenched in blood and not just a little dab sufficient to leave a partial print. In this case the whole hand stood out in stark relief. He shook his head. “She must have been bleeding at a decent rate.”
“Stuff poured off her,” Stefan noted cheerfully. “The ambulance drivers were shocked to see she was still alive. Apparently, the amount she lost should have killed her.”
“Except you and I know how often the term should doesn’t apply to people like us.” He slid a sideways glance at his friend. “She’s like us, I presume?”
Stefan shrugged his elegant shoulders.
Trevor had never seen his friend in any other state except perfectly dressed. Trevor had no idea how Stefan did that. Trevor couldn’t manage that one day a month, never mind looking well-dressedevery day. Yet Stefan continuously turned up looking like a cover model.
“I believe she’s one of us,” Stefan replied in a noncommittal voice. He turned away from his doorway. “I don’t know how anyone but someone like us could get past my energy shields. In reality or in grayscale.” He turned to stare at Trevor. “That’s really got me confused.”
“How long after a person walks by can you see their energy?”
“Sometimes minutes only but usually for a couple hours. In the case of a powerful psychic—or someone who has experienced great rage or trauma—longer, sometimes much longer.”
“So she didn’t experience those, or she has such weak energy that there wasn’t much power in her residual energy for some reason.”
“Right. She keeps it close. That’s why I was hoping you could take a look at her.”
“Why me?”
“Because her energy is … off.”
Trevor frowned. It wasn’t like Stefan to not read energy. “Off in what way?”
“I don’t want to tell you that. I’d prefer that you make your own impression.”
“Right.” He cast one last glance at the disturbing handprint on the wall and asked, “Where is she?”
“They took her to the closest hospital. I was hoping to get her onto Maddy’s Floor, but there’s no room.”
“As usual. Beds don’t open up there often.”
“They are possible these days, with her new wing in place and with the expansion program they are running. Plus, the hospital stays are shorter than ever.”
“Sure, but the waiting list is ten times longer than it was, and, now that more people have heard about it, even more applications are coming in from all over the world.”
Stefan nodded. “And the same for our project at the children’s hospital. But, like you said, the need is great, and the more people who benefit, the more people who hear about the program and want a place for their loved ones.”
“Children are the most devastating cases. Nothing like sick children to break your heart. Especially when a life could have been saved.”
“We’ve hired what amounts to a triage nurse for energy evaluation in terms of each application. He’s new to Maddy’s Floor, but we’ve come to trust his evaluations.”
“So he decides which applications to accept?” Trevor’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s heady stuff.”
“Not really. He goes through his applications and sorts them. Priorities and easy ones she can help quickly, so the beds are put to the best use. The center is trying to keep a dozen beds for fast turnovers, but they still end up requiring days before the kids are released. The adults on Maddy’s Floor still need twice that in the easier cases. Adults just don’t heal as fast.”
“That’s a lot of responsibility.”
“It is. We do checks to ensure nothing jumps out at us, but really we don’t have time to go through each of the one thousand applications sitting on his desk on any given day, and we can make mistakes too. Maddy has a special program going on, but it’s not as if she can expand it to help everyone. She’s doing what she can.”
“How about training people to do what she does?”
“We’re working on it.” Stefan smiled. “England has asked for a sister wing in London.”
“Sure, but one can’t just duplicate Maddy and her world.”
“Exactly. If they get the healers together and can manage to find a coordinator like Maddy to guide the energy and to do what must be done, then maybe it can work.”
“Right. Let’s go meet your mystery killer.”
Both reentered the world of reality seamlessly.
Stefan laughed, as he walked to his kitchen counter and snagged his keys. “Except for one thing. It’s not me she killed.”
*
No.
I couldn’t be hurt. I had suffered enough. They all had. This had to stop. I had done everything I could to protect my girl. But it had all been for naught. Now her girl was helpless. A pawn. Like all women were pawns in the world of men. They saw women only as possessions. Chess pieces to be moved at will to their pleasure. Her girl’s life had been no different. Her girl’s life had been one big board, arranged and rearranged.
But not now. Now I moved freely.
And could connect to many people—talented people. More talented than I am. But I was learning. And now I’d found someone I could talk to. More than talk to …
Thank heavens.
Little had gone as planned in my life. Including this. But I’m learning.
The men in her life would have laughed and said, Didn’t it figure? Couldn’t arrange the one thing most important in her world without a man’s help.
They were wrong. As a woman, as a child of their whims, I had been nothing if not adaptable. And adapt I had. Now I could operate without them knowing.
Now, if only I could help the one who needed me—before the others took her girl out of their game. Permanently.
Chapter 3
Hannah opened her eyes, her gaze slow to focus. When she recognized the brightness in the room, she bolted upright.
“Damn it,” she whispered to the empty space. She’d planned on sneaking out after the nightly rounds, but before the security guard, who walked the hallways, came by. Instead she’d fallen into a deep sleep—and had missed her window of opportunity.
She groaned and flopped backward.
“There, nice to see you’re awake. I’ve checked in on you a couple times, but you were fast asleep.” The nurse bustled around and plumped up the pillows helping her to sit up. “And you missed breakfast …”
Damn it. That meant it was later than Hannah thought. She gave the woman a sleepy smile. “I slept well, but I’m hungry.”
“Good,” the nurse replied.
Hannah read the woman’s name tag. Tammy. Yeah, she looked like a Tammy, pink-cheeked and short curly blond hair, with a comfortable huggable frame.
“I’ll see about rousting you up some food. And how about a coffee?”
Hannah brightened. “Coffee would be lovely.”
Tammy finished her ministrations, checked Hannah’s blood pressure and temperature, then disappeared.
Coffee would be excellent. It would help her to get moving.
Hannah couldn’t remember much of last night and wanted to ask Tammy for details but knew better.
She relaxed back, letting her body wake up that little bit more. And then wished she hadn’t. Last night things hurt. Today they throbbed. She also had to go to the bathroom, but the thought of doing so scared her.
The nurse returned, holding a real china mug. Nice. Hannah brightened. She hated those plastic cups they always seemed to bring.
“Now, let’s get you to the bathroom.”
Hannah winced. “How did you know I hadn’t made it there yet?” she muttered.
Tammy laughed. “Because you were staring at the bathroom, as if trying to figure out how to make it happen without getting onto your feet.”
That startled a laugh out of Hannah.
The nurse grinned. “That’s better. Now let’s get you to the bathroom and back again.” She flipped the blankets off Hannah, letting a rush of cooler air in. In spite of herself, she shivered.
“We’ll get you back under the covers again in a minute.”
Hannah sat up, then slowly slid to the floor. The nurse held up weird little slippers that Hannah hadn’t seen before and helped her stand up in them. Hannah took a deep breath, held on to the rail on the side of the bed, and straightened. She schooled her features and took one step.
“There. Not so bad, is it?”
“No, it’s not.” It was way worse. But no way in hell would she tell Tammy that. “I can make it fine on my own.”
“If you’re sure …”
Hannah smiled reassuringly. “I’m fine.” And she walked to the bathroom. When she made it inside and had the door securely closed behind her, she dropped the facade, and a gasp of pain broke free. “Shit that hurts,” she whispered to the face in the mirror. The lips on the image moved to match the words coming out of her mouth, but it was hard to recognize the rest of her features. Except her hair. Long auburn ringlets. Yeah, those were hers.
But the rest? … She noted long scratches on the sides of her face, dried blood on her forehead. Her hair had thick dried-on clumps of congealed blood at her temple. She reached her hand up to the back of her head and winced.
Her fingers touched more dried blood that poked her. She stared into the mirror. Had she been hit? Attacked? In a car accident? She leaned closer to see one eye bloody around the iris. She still had all her teeth, thank God. She did a quick search to find the ribs on her side turning colorful hues. She already knew her legs hurt like shit, but why? She had a bandage on one thigh, and her other ankle was wrapped in a simple elastic bandage. All of her ached.
She needed a shower in the worst way. But had she time? Or the energy to do so? She noted both a bathtub and a shower in the bathroom. One of those fancy sit-down showers. She could do that most likely.
“Hannah? Do you need help?”
“No, I’m fine.” But she really had to go. She used the toilet, then turned on the water to give herself a moment. Thereafter, using the washcloth soaked in warm water, she gently wiped her face. And saw her hands. As in really saw them.
They were completely encrusted in dried blood that someone had attempted to wash off, only to leave smears on her skin. She opened the bathroom door and smiled at the anxious nurse on the other side, then continued to clean her hands and arms. “I’m fine. I just need to wash up.”
The nurse smiled in sympathy, her shoulders relaxing. “Only your hands and face. We’ll try for a shower later. After the doctor has checked your stitches.”
Hannah couldn’t hold back her start of surprise. She hadn’t noticed any stitches. She took a quick glance in the mirror but couldn’t immediately understand what they’d stitched back together, unless they were talking about her bandaged leg. That would make sense. Then again, so would her head. Still, the nurse appeared agitated the longer Hannah stayed in the bathroom. Not wanting to upset her further, Hannah let herself be led back to the hospital bed and helped under the covers.
In truth she felt a huge sense of relief when she could lie down and relax. With a wan smile, she told Tammy, “Thank you. That feels much better.”
“You need to stay in bed,” Tammy scolded gently. “Don’t try to do too much. You need to stay off both those legs and rest.”
“I will,” Hannah promised, then confessed, “I’m really hungry.”
“I’ll go see what I can find for you.” Tammy bustled around her, moving a glass of water closer and straightening the blankets. “Don’t forget your coffee on the table.”
At the reminder Hannah brightened and tried to shift more upright, so she was leaning against the headboard.
“Wait. I’ll raise the bed for you.” The nurse stepped to the side, and, using the remote control, she raised the head of Hannah’s bed, so she could sit more comfortably.
“Thank you,” Hannah murmured, wondering just where she was that had such nice fancy equipment and fancy bathrooms. A general hospital didn’t necessarily have the funding for a bed like this. Maybe she was in a private hospital. That was always her father’s choice. Still, it was comfortable enough here. Given that her legs were both injured, running away was hardly a good option.
“You also have visitors,” Tammy shared, as she bustled around Hannah, tucking the blanket in around her legs and moving closer the little table holding her coffee.
“Visitors?” Hannah asked warily. “I’m not sure I’m up to seeing anyone.”
“If you’re not, then I’ll send them away, but it’s the man who helped you last night. He’s asked to see you, so he can confirm you are okay.”
Ah, then there wasn’t much chance of getting out of this. Besides, it was important to make it look to the world like she was completely fine. Just a stupid accident was all.
“Then send them in,” she replied quietly, “but do please warn them that I’m really tired, so it needs to be a short visit.”
“I can do that.” She smiled. “And, while they are here, I’ll see about getting you a little food.”
“Make that a lot of food, and you’re on. I’m starving,” she admitted. She truly was. She also couldn’t identify what her last meal had been or even when. That bothered her a lot. She took a big sip of coffee and leaned back to wait for her visitors.
She didn’t have to wait long.
Two men walked in.
She gave them a faint smile, her gaze assessing. Inside, her stomach sank. She didn’t know either of them. But in the back of her mind? Something … was familiar about both of them …
*
“Interesting,” Trevor noted, as he and Stefan stood at the doorway, watching the two women interact as patient and nurse.
“What is?”
“Her aura. It’s nonexistent. Normally I’d see that in a dying person, at least comatose.”
“I can see how tiny and tight against her body it is. That’s why I thought she was severely hurt last night,” Stefan admitted. “Yet she’s looking damn lively to me.”
“She is.” Trevor contemplated the woman in the bed before him. He gave a slight snort in understanding. “She’s doing it on purpose. She’s closely tucking in all the energy to hide something.”
“Why? And how? That’s a huge drain on a person,” Stefan stated. “But you’re right. Look. A corner flared off just now.”
“Hmm, I saw it. I wish I knew what the nurse just said to her for that to have happened.” He watched as the patient leaned back in bed, and the nurse walked toward them. As she approached, Trevor asked, “What did she say?”
“She was perturbed at the idea of visitors,” the nurse replied. “However, she did say yes, but only for a short while. And she emphasized short, so you can’t ask too much or be here too long. I will be back in ten minutes,” she warned, as she walked past them. “I’ll be bringing her breakfast with me.” And she walked away.
With a one-raised-eyebrow look at Stefan, Trevor walked into the hospital room. “Good morning,” he greeted Hannah. “I’m Dr. Trevor Johnson, and this is Stefan Kronos. Thank you for seeing us.”
She gave them a veiled look and pulled her aura in closer.
Very interesting. She considered them a threat.
“Interesting flight response,” Stefan muttered, as he approached the bed. In a normal tone, he said, “I’m glad to see you looking as healthy as you are this morning. You had me scared last night.”
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, her gaze shuttered. “I wasn’t in very good shape. Thank you for helping me out.”
“No, you weren’t in good shape,” Stefan agreed, with a smile. “I’m glad I was able to help.”
Her gaze narrowed, and Trevor almost gasped as he watched an energy probe, light blue to almost pure white, slide out from under the bedding to check out the powerful energy in the room, now that they’d arrived. The probe shifted silently with great stealth, as it checked out Stefan’s energy.
Interestingly enough, his friend let the probe do its thing.
Then the probe turned on Trevor. Its movement was more hesitant. As if he were a stranger she was unsure of. Sure she’d met Stefan last night but hardly long enough to be sure of him. Then again, Trevor was a complete unknown. He also had to decide quickly if he would allow the probe to retrieve the information it wanted to access.
It went against the grain to give blind access, so he let it in slightly. It didn’t appear to want to do more than a cursory glance, before she withdrew it. Hannah sat up a little straighter, when she’d pulled it back. As if the threat assessment had come back as negative.
“Interesting trick,” he told her and wondered what it was about this woman that had him going about things all wrong. Normally he would never have mentioned the probe issue to anyone.
She frowned, confusion clouding her gaze. “What trick?”
He waited and studied her. Was she for real? But he read no awareness, no guilt in her. Nothing at all in her gaze. Was it possible she had no idea?
“He meant getting to me and my house. I’m generally very reticent to meet new people,” Stefan explained smoothly. “Pardon our intrusion, but I needed to know you were okay. I honestly thought you were dying last night, but apparently, although you lost a lot of blood, you aren’t badly hurt.”
“I don’t remember much of last night, so I can only imagine how horrific I must have looked.” She gave a mock shudder. “I really appreciate the help.” This part she added with warm gratitude that came across as completely genuine.
The men responded in kind.
“I’m just glad it all turned out well,” Stefan shared. “And that you will be fine. The police arrived not long afterward, asking questions,” he added. “But there wasn’t much I could say, as I didn’t see your vehicle, and I live too far out for you to have come from a bus or other mode of transportation.”
At the word police, her fingers clenched the sheet and squeezed, until her knuckles turned white. So the police bothered her. Why? Trevor studied the energy around her head, as she listened to Stefan.
The energy was still snug, still white, and still locked down. The only flares they’d seen were when they’d watched her interact with the nurse. But, with him and Stefan, she wasn’t letting herself relax even a little.
That air of wariness only intensified as Stefan continued to speak with her.
This woman was trying to get through this visit, but it was painful for her. Unnerving. As if she were afraid of them, of what they might ask of her. Something she didn’t want to share.
Then he got it.
“You don’t remember anything about last night, do you?”
His comment out of the blue cut through her conversation with Stefan.
She gasped, her shoulders hunching in. This woman wasn’t just guarded—she was terrified. And he felt his protective instincts rising to the surface. He didn’t know what was going on, but this waif triggered feelings in him that he didn’t recognize.
He couldn’t walk away. Not from this level of fear.
And maybe she should be scared. Not only could that memory loss show signs of more serious injuries, something else could be involved as well. He caught sight of the turmoil inside her gaze, right before she lowered her lashes, and he realized her energy never once shifted with the shock of his question.
Had she been through so many shocks that nothing fazed her energy, or did she keep herself so locked down, so protected, that even when the shocks could affect her aura, she wouldn’t let them do so? Or did she have so little energy running through her body to allow it to be affected? It was all needed to keep her alive.
The nurse came bustling in just then, with a tray of food.
Watching Hannah, Trevor caught the relief in her gaze at the nurse’s arrival, as if knowing the interview was almost over.
“Now look at this, Hannah. I managed to find you some breakfast. It might not be to your liking, as I didn’t have much choice, but at least I found lots.” She placed the tray on the small table and moved it over to Hannah. “I hope you like muffins. Nothing hot was left, but I found some cheese and a scone and a couple muffins.”
“This is lovely, thank you,” Hannah replied, with a delighted smile. “I’m happy to have anything.” Her gaze locked on the food in front of her. “The men are leaving. Could you escort them out, please?”
She glanced up at Stefan, and, in a much warmer voice, she added, “Thanks again for coming to my rescue last night.”
“You’re welcome,” Stefan called back. Already moving to the door, he snagged Trevor’s arm as he went, dragging him out to the hallway. “Hope you feel better soon.”
Out in the hallway the two men stood and watched, as Hannah waited until the nurse walked past the men, before Hannah lifted the lid on the food tray. There was no change in her expression, as she studied the selection of food in front of her. Then she dove in and ate like she hadn’t had a decent meal in weeks.
“Look at that,” Stefan muttered. “I’d have fed her last night, had I known.”
“How could you have? It’s like she keeps everything hidden inside. I doubt she’d have told you that she was hungry, even if she weren’t injured.” They watched her go for the second muffin and polish it off in six bites. By the time she turned to the scone, she’d slowed enough to actually butter that one.
As she relaxed back and ate at a slower pace, Trevor shifted, ready to walk away, but struggling to separate from her. Talk about a weird day already. Then it got a whole lot weirder.
He froze.
He reached out and grabbed Stefan. “Look.”
“I see it.”
They stared, hoping to see if the same phenomena happened to repeat itself.
Their patience was rewarded. As she finished the last bite and relaxed back, closing her eyes, a shadow drifted across her face.
A dark shadow.
“What the hell is that?” Trevor asked.
“It’s not a what. It’s a who …”
*
He’d watched her grow from a wild teenager, trying to stretch her wings, to a beautiful woman. But, like all women, she was weak. Pliable. Malleable. He needed malleable. That’s how he made his world fun. He could manipulate most women and children, young animals. Boys were a different animal. But he could do wonders with them too. It took practice. The world of today didn’t understand that. The kids were into instant gratification or nothing. As in life had to be the way they wanted it and now.
No one wanted to put in the work required to get where they wanted to be.
Today’s world was all about short relationships, finding better jobs, building a bigger house.
It wasn’t about learning long-term skills or developing budding talent. No, even the best musicians of today were still those of yesteryear, forever working on their craft. They weren’t has-beens, as the young kids of today assumed.
They were lifelong artists, doing what they could do to stay in the game, as it shifted and changed around them. Everyone now crushed on that fleeting overnight fame of the internet. As if they could go viral once, then they could keep their grasp on the top spot in that world of power and influence.
When, in truth, they never had a spot in the first place.
The fickle audience who put them into the spotlight had already moved on. Without substance, there was nothing. And, without hard work, there was no substance. So nothing sustained their position. The hard truth was that, even with talent and hard work, nothing could keep them up there forever.
He, on the other hand, had put in decades of time and effort. He’d had some piddling success to make him cocky early on, his original talent showing up by accident, giving him the enthusiasm to move forward. The simple success had made him giddy, and he’d gone after bigger and better tricks. He’d been young. Arrogant. With the inherent problems of inexperience. He’d also had the hormonal issues of a developing teenager to contend with. It wasn’t until later that he’d finally managed to gain some measure of control.
Now he was after more yet again.
Hannah was naught but a pawn. A practice piece of long ago. But she presented wonderful research of the long-term benefits of his work. As such, he found himself toying with her. A love a long time ago kept him tied to her—in many ways. But the impact of his research twisted with his emotions, the lure of who she was drew him back constantly.
She was special in so many ways. But she was also draining his energy. She had so much power and was gaining more. It took so much more for him to shut her down. And it was getting worse.
What had been easy back then was nothing to the effort he was forced to exert now. He couldn’t release her nor kill her. But he knew she’d be the end of him if he did neither. In fact, he should have done the latter a long time ago. She was dangerous to him.
Yet flirting with danger presented its own appeal.
Chapter 4
Hannah managed to hold at bay the questions barking inside her head while eating, but, as soon as her immediate hunger abated, they returned. Why had they come to see her? Sure, Stefan wanted to confirm that she was okay, and that made sense. She’d have done the same. She should probably have apologized for the mess she had left; she must have left a blood trail to his house. But somehow he didn’t seem to need one to find her here in the hospital, and she hadn’t thought to give it any further concern. The other man, yeah, she had no idea what to make of him. That whole dark hair and even darker gaze that seemed to see right through her? Well, he scared the shit out of her. And yet appealed to some inner sense. Making her even more nuts. The first man was reassuring and oozed caring.
The second man had been disturbed by something. She just didn’t know what.
And she didn’t want to know. He reminded her of all the doctors who’d checked her out and who had passed judgment on her over and over again. They had a zillion medical terms they’d used on her over the years. All of them meant the same thing. She was … delicate. Needed constant supervision, as she couldn’t be trusted to be on her own. Made bad decisions. Couldn’t properly assess threats. In fact, the last doctor had made it very clear. She was a danger to both herself and society, and, for everyone’s sake, she needed to take her medicine and to live in this nice home, where she’d be safe for the rest of her life.
Like hell.
Pushing away her small table, where only crumbs remained of her breakfast, she considered her options. She had to shower before leaving, or she’d attract attention with the crusted blood in her hair. And that had to be avoided at all costs. Her leg had started to throb, even while resting on the bed. Should she stay until she healed? How long would that take? Longer than it would take for her father to hear about her being admitted and wanting to move her to his pet hospital. Something she couldn’t let happen.
She tried to calculate how quickly her father would find out.
When she heard heavy footsteps marching toward her, she knew time had already run out. Damn her for sleeping late this morning.
She slid down under the covers and pretended to be asleep. As the footsteps neared, she watched as her father and his two assistants, dare she call them henchmen, entered the bedroom. His usual blustery style came to a halt, once he realized she was sleeping.
It was hard to see his expression clearly through her lashes, but he appeared to be uncertain of his next step. That didn’t last long.
“Will, stand guard,” he ordered. “I’ll speak with the staff.” He spun on his heels and left with George, the lesser of the two evils, and leaving Will, her old nemesis, in charge.
