Immortal Flame (10 page)

“How'd your assignment in Boise go? Did you get some action while you were there?”

“Of course, bro, of course. I made some hotties' nights, over and over. And finished my assignment … or your old assignment.”

“No release from your contract?”

A pause. “No, it must not have been the Meaningful Kill I needed.” The normally talkative Dante fell silent.

“Dante? Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

“You ever hate who you are?”

“You kidding? I'm the happiest 300-year-old Swedish national the world has ever known. It doesn't appear I'm going to die anytime soon, and I'm seeing all of history unfold in front of me.”

“What about growing old with someone? Do you ever wonder how that would be?”

“You going soft on me, bro? I'm not settling down. It's overrated. I need to keep my options open. Hey, you been talking with Barnaby or something?”

“How did you know?”

“Good guess. He's like a celebrity. Hell, he was a few hundred years older than me when he finished his contract. When was he born? Fifteen hundreds or something like that? Even brushed shoulders with Queen Elizabeth, the old-old one, not the recent old one.”

Peter pulled his truck into the hotel parking lot. “Barnaby knows a lot of stuff. His wife died a while back, didn't she?”

“Yep. He's getting old, too. Like human old.”

Once, years ago, Peter had dreamed of growing old with Claire. She had died in her eighties, with her loving family surrounding her—loving family that didn't include Peter. Once he'd sacrificed his mortality for her, though, the rules prevented him from being part of her life ever again. His dreams of a life together with Claire got sucked down the drain, along with what remained of his cursed soul. All that he got in return was forever. Forever Indebted. Forever a killer. Forever a prisoner. “Must be odd to live all of those centuries and then experience a normal life and death.”

Dante snorted. “Dude, you have gotten philosophical. Why don't I come up there and keep you company?”

“No!” The last thing he needed was for Dante to wreak havoc on the good people of this town while Peter tried to figure out what to do about Allie.

“Yeah, but I'm bored.”

“Go read a book or something.” Peter rolled his eyes.

“I've read them all.”

“Have a good day, Dante.”

“You too, Petey. See you soon.”

As Peter protested, the line went dead. He groaned. He'd have to babysit Dante to keep the big Swede from running amok in this nice town, enjoying one of his drunk orgies. The innocent citizens would never know what hit them.

Allison spent the next two days alone. A glass of wine to calm her racing thoughts didn't work. Reading novels didn't work. An Internet search about Wards didn't work. As a matter of fact, the Internet only made passing mention of Wards, with no definitive information. In this day and age she should've been able to find something, some primary source description, some reference, but her search turned up nothing.

At least she had the potential to “turn off” her visions. If she could prepare properly, she wanted to try to block Sarah and Quincy. The mere possibility of having a vision of someone else she loved made her blood run cold.

What about Peter? She touched her lips. She still felt him there, surrounded by his masculine scent, felt his rough hands roving over her arms and face. And what about his demonstration of freakish strength and speed? The sound of that entire trunk shattering sent chills down her spine, even now. If he could do that to a tree, what hope did she have if he turned that force on her or anyone else?

So what did she know about him now? Not a whole lot more than when they first met. She knew what he could
do
, but not what he
was
. She could guess that he wasn't exactly human, but how? Why? She shivered. Was he dangerous?

Of course he was dangerous.

She had witnessed his skills. She knew about him. Would he return to silence her?

For the love of all that was holy, she had lived in fear of visions of other family members for much too long. She'd used her career to level the cosmic playing field—the lives saved by her medical skills made up for the inevitable lives lost from each vision. Never in her wildest dreams had she considered the possibility of a normal, intimate relationship. And damn it all, but for a brief moment, she'd had the keys to the kingdom within her grasp. Peter had unlocked feelings she'd never experienced before; he had awakened the real woman inside of Allison.

But as soon as her silly pipe dream of companionship came within her reach?

Her potential suitor ripped a tree out of the ground. With his bare hands.

Typical. She should've known better by now. In her warped life, hope always ended in pain.

When she took Ivy out for brief, necessary walks, that crawly sensation crept up the back of her neck. Was it her imagination or something truly outside? Or another aspect of that strange sense of Peter echoing faintly in her mind?

The curtains in her house remained shut. She missed the sun, but the memory of the man through the front window overrode her desire for a light and airy home.

At night she woke up in a sweaty panic, time and again. Seven a.m. came much too early, and she had to move it to make it to the hospital on time. She had planned to take a week off after her next twenty-four-hour shift.

God, she would go stir crazy.

During her shift, every time the ER doors whooshed opened, her heart thudded. Male staff and patient voices in a certain timbre tightened her neck muscles until she could no longer relax. A perverse part of her longed to see Peter again. Even with his supernatural strength and speed, she longed for those strong arms to wrap around her, those firm lips to explore her body.

To distract her from memories of his body, she left her gloves off for routine exams and tried blocking the patients' visions, a skill that thankfully required all of her concentration. No images of death intruded, but then again, her gift had always occurred at random intervals. But her ability had changed. When she touched people, even if there was no sense of a vision, something still held her back, like a piece of cellophane between her hand and the patients' skin.

Another discovery occurred in the wee hours of her shift. As her fatigue grew, it took extreme effort to maintain the blocking ability. Unable to hold up the block, her control slipped at two in the morning and she endured an excruciating image of impending death for a gentleman having chest pain. They had flown the man out to Portland with an acute heart attack. A few hours later, she learned that he had indeed died. Of course he did. Maybe her skill would improve with practice or rest. If only she could get to that point where she no longer saw the death of others, it would be worth it.

When her shift ended Saturday morning, she headed home for a quick run, avoiding the wooded trails. After a shower, she was tired but ready for the day. Eyeing the light clouds, Allison grabbed a fleece and threw it on over her long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans, now eager to cheer on Quincy in the season-opener soccer jamboree. Marcie, who played an Internet-based meteorologist when she wasn't the ER receptionist, had said there was a good chance of snow tomorrow and Monday, but the early spring weather should stay decent for today.

Near the soccer fields at the university, masses of brightly uniformed five- to eleven-year-olds teemed with unbridled energy. A bittersweet smile crossed her lips. None of these children would ever be hers.

Allison clipped on Ivy's leash to allow her dog to trot next to her. When she reached the field for five- and six-year olds, she spotted Sarah and her husband, Bryce. Allison had immediately liked her brother-in-law when she met him years ago, not only because he adored her sister, but because he was just a good, normal guy. She should try finding one of those someday.

Actually, she had accomplished this task. She'd gone and found herself a nice guy. Damn it all, he wasn't just nice, he was sexy. In his arms, she had come to life. In his arms, she had finally felt safe.

The only problem? He was not exactly human. A minor detail marring her otherwise idyllic life inconveniently riddled with death and the inability to get close to anyone. What a colossal freaking joke.

No. She was not going to wallow in self-pity. Not today. She exhaled, rolling her shoulders to work out the knots that had been building.

As she waded through the scrum of kids clad in neon orange Ivy was showered with kisses and pats, much to her hedonistic dog's delight.

The coach's game plan was no match for the kids' exuberance. The whistle blew, and all semblance of organization ceased as every child on the field converged on the ball. Well, every child except for Quincy standing off in the far corner, alternately picking clovers and waving at her parents and Allison.

“It's always a mess.” Bryce cringed and waved back.

Quincy had a close call, almost kicking the ball. Allison cheered wildly and grinned, a foreign sensation that relaxed her tense facial muscles.

Sarah sighed. “The best part of the day is snacks after each game. The sheer quantity of orange wedges and Gatorade should have her bouncing off the walls all night long.” She batted her eyelashes at Bryce.

He pulled at his brown goatee. “No way. She's your kid today. I had to play fairy princess last weekend with her. I had to wear a tiara,” he added in a horrified whisper hidden behind one hand for Allison.

Then a parent approached him and asked about the status of keeping vagrants off Main Street. Bryce shifted gears from doting dad to police chief as he answered the woman's questions in a professional, concerned manner.

Allison nudged her sister. “He's always on the clock, huh?”

“Mmm-hmm. He wants to do a good job, and I'm used to disruptions. Personally, I think he likes the notoriety. Well, you would know. I'm surprised no one's hit you up for medical advice yet.”

“The day's young.”

After the first game, Quincy ran over and petted Ivy, setting the dog's tail into lethally rapid motion. “Did you see me?” she asked.

“Oh, you did great!” Allison said. “Boy, you were all over that field!”

Sarah rolled her eyes, handed Quincy a sports bottle, and patted her on the shoulder. “Rest up, you've got two more games today.”

Apparently satisfied, Quincy rejoined her teammates and received further instructions from the patient coach.

With Bryce occupied, this was a perfect time for some girl talk. “Can I ask you a big favor?”

“Sure. You want to babysit Quincy for a month?”

“That whirling dervish? She's all yours. No, I had a serious question to ask you.”

“Shoot.” Sarah smiled.

Suddenly chilled, Allison rubbed her arms. “Something has changed in my visions. I think I can do more.”

Sarah gasped. “What do you mean, more? You're having more of them, right?”

“Yes, but that used to be the only thing I could do. Now I think I can do more.”

“Like what?”

Allison stared at the turf, hoping to hide the warmth creeping into her face. “Well, I went into Peter's mind the other day.”

“Explain. Now.”

Sarah responded without question; quite the commentary on the sad state of Allison's life, that something this strange seemed so normal. Briefly, she described the recent encounter with Peter, minus the passionate kisses that nearly led to more and the bizarre demonstration of his strength.

She caught herself touching her lips and shoved her hand into a jeans pocket. “So when I came into contact with Peter, I saw the death visions, like I always do. But then my ability went into another gear I didn't know I had. I slipped into his mind, dug around, and pulled out his memories and thoughts. Sounds insane, doesn't it?”

Sarah tugged at her shoulder-length hair. “With you, anything is possible. Are you sure you weren't imagining things? Or maybe there's something weird about him that made you see things. You did say the first time you met him, it was strange.”

Allison shifted from one foot to another. “That's right. That's why I wanted to see if you'd let me try. Um, on you.”

Her sister stood still for a full minute. Just as Allison was going to retract the request, Sarah nodded.

“Go for it.”

“You're sure?”

“If your power is changing, you need to understand it. I'm a good guinea pig. There's not much you don't know about me. Besides, I'm not scared of my little sister's ESP.”

“What about surprise side effects? Anything could happen.”

“It'll be fine.”

“Wow. Thank you.”

Her sister's thin, pressed lips turned up at the corners. “So, you want to do it right here?”

“Now?”

“No better time than the present. No one's paying attention to us. It'll look like we're two sisters chatting. Which we will be. Mentally.”

Allison's breath came too fast. “Until your head explodes.”

“No talk like that. I'll be fine.”

“Yes, but I don't trust myself.”

“I do. So give it a whirl, sis. What do you need me to do?”

“I'm not sure. All I know is that there has to be physical contact.”

“All righty, then. Come on in.”

Sarah faced the soccer game, inclined her head toward Allison, and grasped her hand.

The sensation developed differently than with Peter, but there was no death to see, thank God. Allison let down her guard and slid into her sister's mind. Bright, happy light surrounded her. And why shouldn't there be light? This was Sarah. Of course her sister's positive qualities went all the way to her core being. Allison pushed aside the mental curtains in Sarah's mind like shimmering gossamer. With her virtual self, Allison probed around, not sure what she was looking for but trying to be gentle about it. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt Sarah.