Immortal Flame (18 page)

Only now, she needed him to help her get to Quincy.

So she threw herself at him, then discarded him, and now she was going to use him. Who had become the monster now?

Guilt shredded her soul as she looked up into his face. The intensity of that stark, hungry expression rocked her back a step.

“You'll still help me?”

“Yes.”

Fear clawed its way up her neck as she sat down. “Oh God, Quincy.”

She put her head down on the table, trying to tamp down emotions and home in on the pictures tumbling around in her head. Peter sat down and combed his fingers through her hair, patient while her brain short-circuited. Where would this insanity stop? Would she eventually lose her mind? Yet with each pass of his hands over her scalp, a few extraneous images fell to the side and clarified what she was trying to see. The ache in her head receded under his caress.

“Don't stop.” She lifted her head and stared into Peter's unfathomable black eyes.

“Don't stop what?”

“Touching me. It's helping me focus.”

“You're not overwhelmed with the images of death anymore?”

“I'm overwhelmed with images of everything. I have no idea why, but I have more abilities than I did a few weeks ago.”

“Fair enough. Let's see if more is better.”

Turning her squarely to him, he kept one hand in contact with her scalp and guided her closer until their foreheads touched.

The rush of visions calmed.

Now, how could she gain clear sight into these images? Control them? How could she help Quincy?

“I've got an idea. Let me try blocking you, but I'm going to do something different. I will fish through my own mind,” she said.

“What should I do?”

“Hold yourself back like you did before. But stay in physical contact with me no matter what. The connection between us seems to help.”

As she leaned harder into his warm forehead, a quiet resolve washed over her. This time, she settled easily into the mental cocoon buffering her against the roaring waves of images. Only the images weren't as violent or as loud this time around. She felt Peter holding his consciousness back, and his control tamped down the cacophony of her own competing visions. Instead of moving forward into Peter's mind, as she had done before, she turned back into herself.

Every vision she had ever had in her entire life assaulted her all at once. Wide-eyed screams, people doubled over in pain, bodies crumpled in wrecks. When she pulled back, she dimly felt the increased pressure of Peter's strong hand on the back of her head as he maintained their connection.

Diving into the maelstrom, she nearly collapsed beneath the weight of death. Death of strangers, friends, loved ones. Death she had seen and tried to forget. She saw her college boyfriend's lifeless body in his crushed car, killed by a drunk driver, exactly as it had happened years ago.

Pain lanced through her gut as she watched her father wither away from the cancer that destroyed him, his skin stretched so thin that his bones seemed about to burst from his emaciated body. She heard his rattling wheeze as he smiled sadly and breathed his last. Tears ran unchecked over her cheeks, but she kept probing.

Quincy. Where was Quincy? Desperate, she searched her visions. There. The images from yesterday hung in front of her and she plucked at one like a silken string, unraveling it in front of her mind's eye.

Allison saw pine trees, a lake, a rushing creek, and familiar mountains.

Glass slipper, snow, up and down. Glass slipper, snow, up and down.

There was a bouncing rhythm to the images, punctuated by a child's whimper. Allison started to shake. Peter's vise-like grip on her head and shoulder clamped her face to his.

Focus on the slipper, focus on the slipper
.

She slowed down the images. The man from the soccer field came into view, his crew cut and cruel face stark and clear, grinning. The scene bounced up and down. Snowy terrain moved by her as the man carried Quincy in his arms. Allison now saw the world through her niece's eyes. She concentrated harder.

The familiar creek tumbled down a narrow valley as Quincy traveled higher and higher into the mountains. One foot was bare, and on the other one, a glass slipper. The cold wind and snow cut into Quincy's exposed face and foot. Shivering, Allison delved deeper. This was happening right now. Allison was
there
.

The young girl's terror rose up like a suffocating tidal wave. Frantic, Allison pushed the emotion back, trying to regain control. She tried to compel her niece to look around, and shocked herself when the girl scanned the terrain.

Up high was a familiar snow-covered mountain, and at the base she saw a lake … and snow-covered cabins. Faint cross-country tracks led to the cabins.

She felt the man's hands dig into Quincy's body, and the bond faltered, then broke.

Like a bomb exploding in her sternum, the connection ceased, flinging her out of the vision backward into the present.

She screamed, head pounding, stars bursting in front of her eyes.

“Allie?” Peter shook her shoulders, causing a wave of nausea.

She dragged her attention back to him, waiting for the blurriness to clear.

“What happened?” He wiped the tears from her cheeks.

When he turned his head, she couldn't keep up with the motion and experienced another bout of vertigo. “Please. Hold still.”

Her temples throbbed. She held down bile with sheer force of will.

“Are you okay?”

“No.” She gasped. “Quincy. I was inside her mind.”

“What did you say?” His vise-like grip dug into her upper arms.

“I got inside her head. You know how I kind of noodled into your brain when we first connected? Same thing, only I was right there, seeing through her eyes. The contact with you helped me focus.”

“And?” Thank God he relaxed his clenched hands.

She struggled to put her recollection of the images together. Feeling the blood drain from her face, she said, “Aneroid Lake.”

“What's that?”

Ignoring him, she stumbled to the laptop on the countertop and flipped it on. Her hand shook as she tried to click on the icon for the file she wanted. Opening the file, she found the photos from a winter hike a few years ago. One more click and she had it. The screen displayed Allison standing in front of a frozen lake, mountains rising behind her. Pine trees stippled the background. The shape of the lake, the mountain peaks, her vision of Quincy. Allison had been there.

“Oh God, that's where he's taken her. The man from the park. At least I think that's who it is. And I think that's where they're going.”

She spun around and would have hit the floor if Peter hadn't grabbed under her arms. His tall frame enveloped her and held her upright until she could stand unaided. She could get used to fitting into his embrace. And that was the problem. She focused on the problem at hand.

“Do you know that for sure?” he asked.

When he rested his chin on top of her head, his voice rumbled through her skull. She shivered, recalling the cold snow and a bare foot. His warm hands smoothed over her back.

She buried her face in his chest. “No, I don't know that for sure. Who knows with the way my brain is changing? Maybe I'm losing my marbles.” The hysterical, shrill laugh that bubbled out of her lips created a pitiful, alien sound.

He stared at her with an expression somewhere between disbelief and amazement. Perhaps he saw her cracking up and didn't know what to do.

God, she had always been in control in emergencies. Now look at her falling apart. And to top it off, she was willing to use this man's kindness and push the button of his own guilt, all to help her save Quincy's life.

He cleared his throat. “Well?”

She leaned back against his arms. “Let's go. I'm not 100 percent certain what I saw. Maybe it's stress or my own memories or wishful thinking. But I have to try something to help Quincy, and we're closer to the mountains. Even if it's a wild goose chase, at least we can try.”

“Does it feel real?”

“Yes. As real as the images I saw when I touched you.”

“Good enough for me.”

She couldn't tell if he was merely placating her or truly believed what she told him. It didn't matter either way. “We need to get moving. If they're really where I think they are, it'll take a few hours to get to the lake.”

“Not if I'm helping you. Let's go.”

• • •

Allison donned her winter running gear and stuffed extra thermals and a jacket into a backpack along with plastic bags, heating packs, and extra socks for Quincy's cold feet. She checked to make sure a box of emergency waterproof matches was still in each backpack, and handed the extra pack to Peter to stuff with extra gear. In the garage, she grabbed her running snowshoes and a spare pair Sarah used when they hiked together.

They threw the equipment into the back of the Subaru, and Peter followed her directions to the highway. Soon, they had passed through the small towns of Enterprise and Joseph to reach Wallowa Lake State Park.

“Where to?” Peter drove too fast on the increasingly slippery roads. The sleet had changed over to wet snow and had started to build up on the road.

“Keep driving all the way to the trailhead. The road stops there.” Doubt assailed her. Maybe she imagined all of the things she had seen, but the vision had seemed so real.

Drive faster
.

He moved his hand from the steering wheel to cover hers. “If she's here, we'll find her.”

“What if I'm wrong? This search is not logical,” she said. “I should be in town helping to find her.”

“What you saw about me was all true. I believe what you see.” When he squeezed her hand, warmth coursed up her arm.

Ice covered most of Wallowa Lake. Mountains with thick pine trees rose steeply into low clouds on the south side of the lake. The state park was closed for the season, as the lack of people attested, but they continued anyway. Snow blanketed the chip-sealed road, and they followed a single set of tire tracks.

“Peter!” Allison pointed to a sedan parked near a brown Forest Service gate at the trailhead parking lot.

“Hold on.” He parked near the other vehicle, jumped out of the car, and stopped short of the sedan, crouching to examine footprints fading in the light snow. When she joined him, he put a hand up, holding her back.

“One set of footprints, large, deep. They go past the gate and up that trail.” He pointed to the trailhead sign. Light snow landed on his head, turning instantly into steam.

“What about Quincy?”

“I don't see anything.”

Allison stepped up to the car, cupped her face, and held her breath, trying not to fog the window. She peered inside, pulse pounding. Under the front dashboard, something caught the light. Her heart thumped in her chest.

“Peter, come here.” Her hands shook as she pointed. “What do you see?”

After a moment's contemplation, he answered, “Clear plastic slipper, child's size.”

The muscle clenched in his jaw. His fury would've intimidated her, if she were the object of his rage.

She put a hand on his arm.

He spun back, his black stare boring through her. Acting on instinct, she reached out to him. As she connected with his corded forearm, he flinched, grabbing her wrist faster than the human eye could follow. For a split second, she feared he was going to break her arm.

Shaking his head, he snapped back from far away and looked right at her. He glanced down at his grip on her wrist and abruptly let go.

“I'm sorry. I was thinking about what I'd do if I had a daughter out there with this guy. I can imagine what Bryce is going through.”

“We have to get to Quincy.”

They opened the back of Allison's car, pulling out backpacks and gear. Peter put his hands on her shoulders. “You shouldn't go. It's too dangerous. Besides, I can move faster on my own.”

Anger flared, and she shrugged his hands off. “I have the radar system, remember?”

“I don't want you in danger.” He ran a hand through his dark hair.

She snapped the snowshoes on over her boots and shoved a yarn hat over her hair. “Not your decision.” Flipping the backpack over her shoulder, she started up the trail, not caring if he followed, but confident that he would.

Peter kept up with Allie's light jog. As they climbed higher up East Fork Trail, the snow underfoot thickened and pine tree branches above sagged with the constant snowfall. Little puffs of vapor punctuated her every snowshoed step and hiking pole placement.

He had the perfect view of her rounded backside and toned legs encased in thick running tights. If only those legs were wrapped around his waist as he leaned over to kiss her … his mutinous groin tightened at the fantasy.

When she stopped abruptly, he almost ran into her.

She let out a quick breath. “Are you all right?”

“Fine, you?”

Hell, he had no business thinking about her as if they had a future. For her safety and that of her family, he needed to exit her life after they found Quincy and he dealt with the minion. No matter how intoxicating Allison La Croix was, he couldn't stick around and bring more evil into her world. He'd suppress his desires, to keep her safe.

Her emerald eyes sparkled as the snow fell around them. “Good. Just needed a quick drink.”

While she rested, he calculated many scenarios about what awaited them at the end of the trail. Adrenaline zipped through his veins, making the muscles in his arms and legs jump. Damn this waiting game. How the hell was he going to get a young girl out of a kidnapper's hands? If that guy had a similar makeup as Peter, killing the man wouldn't be easy. In fact, it might be impossible, if they were too evenly matched. And if the man had an advantage? Peter would have to slow the man down, stay alive himself, keep Allie safe, and save Quincy. No way could he accomplish all of those tasks. Something would have to give, but what?