Emotionally Charged (7 page)

That’s when coldness filled me. I hoped it just meant the air-con had kicked in, but this felt familiar.

The teller with Jake froze, and her flirty grin dropped into a frown. She looked at the bag in her hand like she had discovered she was holding a dead fish. I couldn’t see what she was saying, but her jaw wobbled up and down. I couldn’t tell how she was feeling either. Jake kept working his act but she wouldn’t calm down.

Jamie called over to Jake. Trouble there too.

I heard Jake call back, loud enough for me and Emma to hear, “Change of plans.”

The teller stood and made to move away, and suddenly Jake had a shiny silver handgun pointed at her.

No, no, no, no, no.

Jamie pulled a gun from his jacket too, waving it at the waiting customers. “Everyone get back against that wall. You know the deal. If nothing stupid happens then nothing stupid happens.”

A large man in grease covered clothing didn’t budge. He drawled in a husky voice, “Come now, boys, don’t do anything rash.”

“Stupid.” Jamie dropped his aim and shot the man in the leg. He crumpled, gasping, trying to hold his blood in.

I yelped and Jake shook his head at me, warning me with his expression. Others in the crowd screamed as well, cowering back.

I turned to Emma, just a few steps away from me with the guard. She couldn’t be in on this.

How wrong I could be. She had a petite pistol in one hand and relieved the security guard of his weapons with the other.

“Ems?” I hissed.

“Chill, sister,” she hissed back. “A little firearm action will get the sheep scared and our powers kicking in again so we can get our goods and clear out fast.”

But our powers weren’t kicking in. I didn’t feel anything, not the slightest tingle, only the cold inside. People shuffled toward the wall, mumbling outrage and prayers. I looked over their faces, all of them terrified, except one. His face was blank and gray eyes stared at me, at my heart pendant, at the same clothing he’d seen me in just half an hour before and the blond wig identifying me as not on the level.

I looked away, ashamed.

“I’m not getting the vibe!” Jamie yelled at Jake, who was busy getting the teller to keep clearing drawers.

“Swap,” Jake called back, and Jamie swung his gun to the teller, taking over.

Jake scanned the room, coming to stand beside me. “You feeling anything?”

“Just… cold.” My eyes turned toward Dean automatically, just for a second. Jake’s gaze followed mine and he grunted.

“A blocker. We’ve got a blocker!” Jake yelled to the team.

The hostages against the wall cowered, flinching when he yelled. Dean stood motionless and continued to stare right at me.

“Oh shit,” Emma spat.

Jake patted me on the shoulder. “Good pick, lookout. We’d be in trouble if you hadn’t spotted him. Nice, you’re making yourself valuable.”

 I didn’t want to be valuable like this. I didn’t understand much of what was happening and liked even less. “Why? What’s a blocker?”

“People who grow up blocking their feelings, locking them down to the extent that it twists something inside them. Then that block extends out. It messes with our powers,” Jake grunted and pointed his gun straight at Dean. “Best to deal with them when they show up. I’ve seen one lock off an Empath’s powers for good.”

Jake smiled his comforting smile at me. It chilled me more than the blocking coldness coming from Dean. “Once we get rid of him our powers will work again and we can get all this under control.”

“Get rid of? What? No!” I stepped in front of Jake to try and talk him out of it. Stupid move, but I didn’t realize he was already at the point of pulling the trigger.

Jake tensed and jerked the gun to the side.

The sound blast from the shot left my whole head numb. It took a moment to hear the screams, and feel the burn in my cheek. My over-sized sunglasses hit the floor.

I turned in slow motion and saw an elderly woman fallen on the ground. The pool of blood around her made bile rise in my throat. I knew she was dead, just knew it.

Other customers cried and ran. Jake had lost any control of the situation. The people stumbled right over the old woman’s body, stampeding the door. Emma and Jamie were heading for the door as well. I heard sirens in the distance.

Dean dodged between them but didn’t make for the exit.

“Run, you idiot, get out of here!” I screamed.

He yelled back, but all I could hear over the screaming was, “death wish”.

I felt something hard press my temple, and turned to see Jake aiming the gun right at me.

“Jake?” I whimpered. I didn’t want to. I wanted to be strong.

“I should have known you wouldn’t work out, but I didn’t think you’d screw things up this much!” He yelled at me so close spittle hit my face. His finger on the trigger tensed.

The gun fired again and I was forced to the side by a body. Dean cried out as he fell past me and hit the floor. Blood bloomed like red flowers through the fabric on his arm.

The coldness faded and I felt some power come to me, like it had when I surprised Dean and his attackers that night. I guessed when he was shocked he wasn’t keeping his feelings under such tight rein and his emotional block didn’t extend out. I didn’t know. I just knew I had to act fast before Jake felt his powers kick in too.

I was stumbling from Dean pushing me clear of the gun shot. I regained my balance fast, spinning with the momentum and knocking the gun from Jake’s hand. I continued the spin and cracked my elbow against Jake’s jaw, making him fall backwards.

I grabbed Dean by the arm, pulling him to his feet, practically threw him over my shoulder, and made a run for it.

Part Three
Strength to Fall

I ran down alleys and side streets, avoiding the sounds of sirens and as many passers-by as possible. Dean bounced over my shoulder where I had him slung in a fireman’s carry. Blood from his arm ran down onto the crisp white of my peasant blouse, the cutest of three tops I had chosen to wear this morning to be judged by those…
bad guys.

I hoped the jostling didn’t hurt Dean too much. He was still out of it otherwise I wouldn’t be able to keep moving so fast. I had no idea where I was going or what I should do. I only remembered one thing from first aid class that seemed relevant; the DR ABCs. I had to get Dean and myself out of Danger then check his Responsiveness. I had to get us as far away from Jake as I could. Airway, Breathing and CPR… it had better not come to that.

Dean moaned and coughed and for a split second I was relieved. Then the coldness sank into me, leaching all my strength. My legs buckled and we both hit the cracked concrete footpath. My knees grazed through denim as Dean’s weight on my back crushed me forward.

I tried to roll him off to the side without hurting either of us more. He moved off me, and leant up against one of the high metal fences enclosing the backyards around us.

His upper arm still oozed blood. He opened those gray eyes and stared at me.

I blushed red all over. I had no idea what he thought of me right now.

“We should get you to a doctor, or a hospital. We have to do something about your arm.”

He turned his head to the gunshot wound and brought his other hand up to grasp it and suppress the bleeding. “No. Hate hospitals.”

He flinched at his own touch and stared at me again. “I don’t understand you.”

I coughed a laugh and only a breathy noise came out.

“Were you with them? Or are you just wearing a wig for fun?”

Reaching up, I patted the side of my head, feeling the curling blond waves of the wig. I tugged it off and dropped it on the weed covered pathway.

“It’s complicated.” I didn’t know how to explain without sounding bad, because there wasn’t a way. I’d done the wrong thing.

“Complicated. Like your shopping money not really being your money. But you tried to stop them. Why? You just have a death wish, taking on people like that?”

“I’m not a criminal. I mean, I didn’t want to be. I just got caught up with the wrong people. I thought they were the right ones. I don’t know.” I glared at the pile of synthetic blond hair on the ground, angry at my own excuses. “I just wanted to be a hero.”

“A dead hero by the sounds of it.” Dean pushed himself up to his feet and walked away, cradling his arm.

I almost got out my phone but didn’t know who I would call or where I would go next. I sat on the concrete and tugged at the weeds, tearing them out in showers of dirt, taking my pain out on them. Jake had tried to shoot me, kill me. He’d definitely kill Dean if he saw him again. Everything told me if I wasn’t with Jake, I was against him. He’d come after me. I couldn’t go home, Jake knew where I lived. I’d given him the address. He’d been there, seen my parents, manipulated them.

I had no money left for travel or accommodation and didn’t know the area well enough to get myself moving in any direction. Tears had built up along my bottom eyelashes and the first broke free, splashing on the ground and turning the concrete the color of Dean’s eyes.

“Do you have somewhere to go?”

I looked up, and Dean stood next to me again. I shook my head and another tear spilt.

“Come on then.”

***

Dean and I both moved slowly. I jumped at every sound, expecting a gunshot or an Empath to burst out and attack us. Dean kept a steady pace but wobbled as he walked. He’d lost a fair bit of blood and must have been woozy. I’d be woozy just from the pain with a hole in my arm like that. I offered my shoulder for support, and the second time, he accepted.

We only had to walk two blocks, to where a trailer park spread into the distance from the end of a cul-de-sac. Dean pulled out his keys and let us into a mid-sized trailer, permanently fixed in place like most others around it. The screen door rattled and inside a man lay sprawled across the lounge. I stiffened and looked to Dean. He just shook his head, put a finger to his lips, and led me past a kitchenette piled in beer cans and a tiny bathroom to the room at the end. The man let out a gurgling snore as Dean closed the door behind us.

His room barely passed eight by eight feet in size, with a small bed, beanbag and set of drawers taking up most of the space.

Dean scooped up an old towel from the floor and held it against his bleeding arm.

Boys. I frowned and snatched it off him. “Do you have any kind of first aid kit? Bandages or something? Alcohol? At least something
washed
? If you won’t go to a doctor, we better clean that up properly ourselves.”

Dean went back to the kitchen. He returned quickly with a box of band-aids, scissors, a clean cotton dishcloth and a bottle of vodka with just a finger or two left in the bottom.

He handed them to me and shrugged, then sat down on the side of the bed.

“Okay, we can work with this. Can you take your jacket and shirt off?”

Dean looked away, almost as though he was shy.

“I just mean, I might need to cut them off around your arm if you can’t.”

“No, I think I can manage.”

Dean let out a slow hiss of air as he peeled the jacket away from the wound. I helped him pull the sleeves free of his wrists since he worked one-handed to undress. He tugged his t-shirt off over his head. It took him a while so I cut the dishcloth lengthways down the middle, and started working around in a zigzag cut line to turn one half into a long strip. I dropped the makeshift bandage on the bed and soaked the other half of the cloth in vodka.

Clenching my teeth against nausea, I bent forward to inspect his arm. A mixture of running, dried and coagulated blood made a gory mess. I dabbed around where it sat on his upper bicep until I could see the bullet hole clearly. I leaned so close to Dean I could feel his body heat radiating off him and his breath against my face. The smell of blood mixed with the smoky-musk scent I noticed on him before.

With the blood cleared, there was a clean hole passing straight through the edge of his muscle. Just half an inch and the bullet would have missed him completely. A couple of inches the other way and I didn’t want to think about it. I just finished cleaning it off and it started bleeding again.

Dean spoke, his voice low. “You going okay? You’re turning all kinds of green.”

I nodded but didn’t open my mouth to reply, worried I might throw up.

I stood back up, away from the blood, and took a deep breath. I held up the bloody wash cloth. “You have another clean one?”

Dean told me where to look in the kitchen, and I cut the second in half as well to make some padding for the entry and exit spots. Then I started wrapping.

I could feel Dean’s eyes on me. I tried to focus on the bandaging.

“How about your cheek, how is it feeling?” His breath as he spoke tickled the fine hairs on my neck.

“What about my cheek?”

Dean lifted his uninjured arm to the left side of my face, but didn’t touch me. I placed a hand there myself and felt a sting. The first shot Jake fired. I remembered a pain on my cheek at the time, but then I saw the dead woman, and people started screaming and Jake kept pointing his gun… I’d completely forgotten about it. I noticed my hands shaking as I looped the bandage around Dean’s arm.