Immortal Healer (2 page)

“Nothing at all, and I agree. I’ll help in any way with her emotional needs if I can. I know a couple counselors who’ve dealt extensively with PTSD and trauma, and I’m happy to give you some referrals. As your friend, I shouldn’t manage her psychological needs personally, but I’ll make sure you know the best people in Boston for her specific issues. But … I am curious about your interest in her. That’s all.”

He shrugged. He wasn’t sure he could answer that question.

Quentin had been friends with Ember since her own transition nearly seven months ago when she’d almost died, and he’d saved her life. He knew he’d have her support, but with Ember there would always be questions. Ember was as close to Quentin as anyone, and she knew him well. She wanted to understand exactly what his angle was. Of course, she was a psychologist, and her need to understand just came with the territory. But he also trusted that Ember seeing someone give up by spiraling out of control was not something she would be willing to accept either. And frankly, whatever emotional issues were propelling Abigail into this self-destructive phase of her life, Ember would be the one to understand it most.

“I know you like your challenges, Quentin, but this is complicated. Are you really prepared for this?”

“We’ll see.” His eyes moved back down to the booking photo. She
was
quite stunning—no doubt the reason Mason chose her to be one of his whores—sex slave more like. Her skin was pale but still pink and flush with life. Her lips were naturally plump, and her eyes were blue. Her hair was blonde, long and unkempt, though he recalled it was healthy and silky the last time he’d seen her. She was too slim, but then he was guessing eating hadn’t been high on her priorities recently. He had no idea if he was ready for this, but he was compelled to try.

Ember still watched him curiously, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the photo of Abigail. It was easy to make the decision to try to help. But the outcome, the “to be continued” part of this story, had him more nervous than he ever recalled being.

Quentin had the right personality to be in medicine. He’d studied every last aspect and specialty he could. He’d spent years in an operating room and just as many in the ER. He knew how to stay calm and collected when others panicked. He knew how to think through the chaos, and he understood the importance of turning off the emotion when needed. He enjoyed a challenge above all else, but this would definitely push him out of his element. He was going to involve himself in this woman’s life whether she liked it or not—the scared young woman who’d plowed into him in the corridor of Truman’s family’s building seven months ago. She’d looked like a frightened animal, crazed when he’d first met her, and he’d been left wanting to find her, help her. He simply wasn’t willing to see her life destroyed by the same madman who nearly destroyed Ember’s life as well.

Ember’s voice interrupted the silence as he continued to study Abigail’s picture. “Maybe you’ll be the next to fall in love with a mortal woman. Seems to be a habit of you councilmen.”

He looked up to Ember just to see her smirking again. He harrumphed at her comment. It
was
looking like a habit after her own husband had fallen for her when she was still a mortal. Angus, the head of the vampire council, followed suit shortly after when he fell in love with the homicide detective, Brit. They were now engaged, and well, here was the mug shot of yet another mortal in his hands. But falling in love? Not likely.

“Em, she was used as a sex slave for two years, raped and tormented, and God knows what else. I’m quite certain she doesn’t need a man.”

Ember watched him, studied him for some time before responding. “You don’t get to make that decision for her. I was victimized as a child, and it had a lasting effect on me, but it didn’t change my feelings for Truman. He was the right one for me. Do you really think I have no business being in a relationship because I was victimized by a man once?”

Fuck. She was obviously sensitive about this subject. Her expression was challenging. She certainly didn’t appreciate his comment in any way. “Of course not. That’s not what I was saying in the least. It’s just not any sort of factor for me.”

She smiled. Apparently he was forgiven. “These things tend to happen on their own, whether you’re seeking it or not. Just ask Brit and Angus. Neither of them would ever have thought themselves as relationship people. But, their relationship is just as strong as Truman’s and mine.”

He watched her for a moment, saying nothing. She was right again, of course. Angus and Brit’s relationship had started off rocky to say the least. In fact, it was likely safe to say they both did nothing but aggravate one another constantly in the beginning. Angus tried to distract Brit’s investigation into a killer who happened to be a rogue vampire, and Brit tried hard to put Angus in his place and stay in control of her investigation—a difficult feat with Angus causing problems for her.

“It’s simply not the point, intent, expectation or otherwise. That’s all I’m saying.”

“I understand, and I can see that. I’m just saying she’s lovely—stunning really. And you’re going to give her little choice but to deal with you.”

He nodded, she nodded, and there was nothing else to say.

When Ember left, he was alone to stare at Abigail’s picture. This might go over like a lead balloon, and it most definitely promised to be the most interesting challenge of his life yet. But he did love his challenges.

Chapter 3

“Who are you? They already assigned me a lawyer, and if you’re here to try to talk me into hiring you, I assure you, I can’t afford you.” She sounded like a bitch, but given the calm, if not cold, expression on the man’s face, it wasn’t working. She really couldn’t afford him, and why should she try anyway? They’d lock her up for a while, she’d get back out, and eventually, though it wasn’t her intent, she’d do it all over again. No one understood when she told them it “just happened.” But it was the truth. It just happened. Something happened. Something snapped. Some man said something, did something, looked at her in some way, and it … just happened.

“I’m not a lawyer, though you certainly need a better one than a public defender if you have much hope for this case.” His eyes studied her. She watched as they traveled from her eyes to her hair, following it down to its ragged ends beneath her breasts. She could feel her cheeks blushing. She knew she looked like hell, and this man, he looked like anything but.

“Well maybe I’m guilty and deserve whatever I get.” When his eyes returned to hers at her comment, he gave her a small smile. It wasn’t a happy smile though, sad more like, and then his gaze drifted down to her lips. She licked them in an effort to bring life back to the dried cracked skin, and his brow flinched slightly as she did.

“You are without doubt guilty … what you deserve … is something we can discuss at a different time.” And his eyes were back on hers. He was handsome. Sandy blond or light brown hair. But he was pale. She hated pale people—pale men in particular, though trying to explain that to any one of the many social workers they sent her to was useless. How do you explain to normal people that some humans are more animal than human? There was little hope getting them to understand, and after mentioning it to one social worker and getting a psych evaluation as a result, she decided to keep that little bit of knowledge to herself. Perhaps she was crazy after all.

“Why don’t you just tell me what you want, so I can tell you to get lost? M’kay?” Even though her voice was rude, she could feel the heat in her cheeks as he studied her. He appraised her as though every last square inch of her features meant something important to him. His eyes moved to the base of her throat as she struggled to swallow the lump there.

He was entirely too calm. Most people got offended quickly when Abigail was rude, but this man just studied her. “Why don’t you stow the attitude, Abigail, so we can discuss your future like adults?”

“My future? I think the last shrink who mentioned my future said I’d have very little of one if I kept going down this path, and whadaya know, same damn path…” She shook her head mockingly, and he continued to hold her eyes steadily and impassively. Impressive self-control.

“I have a proposition for you.” And before she had a chance to mock him again, he continued. “Bail money, a proper lawyer, a home, safety, all in exchange for your cooperation.”

“Cooperation?” He just looked at her, saying nothing. “Explain.”

“I want to help you. This life isn’t working out well for you, and I’d like the opportunity to try to get you back on track.”

“You don’t know anything about my life.” Her voice was losing its edge. Her heart was suddenly pitter-pattering in her chest. She didn’t understand this man’s angle or what he wanted.

“On the contrary, I do. I know what you endured up until seven months ago, and I know the person you are today is not the person you were before your time with Mason. I want the chance to fix that.”

She tried to stand, but her cuffs were anchored to the table in front of her. Her heart rate soared at his words. It was the first mention of that name since she’d escaped him, and the mere sound of it rolling off this man’s tongue sent her brain into panic mode. “How do you know that?” Her voice faltered in her fear; she could hear it, and she felt like a trapped animal with her hands so completely restrained. Her body twisted as she stood hunched over the table pulling against the restraint. She looked to the door, but she was alone, and as her panic continued to soar, her breath started to hitch in her throat.

“You don’t have to fear him any longer, Abigail. I assure you, he can’t hurt you.”

Her gaze whipped to him as she remained standing, ready to try to tear the table from the floor and drag it with her if need be. “At the moment, I’m more concerned about you. How do you know that man?” She couldn’t bring herself to utter his name out loud in her fear. Her voice trembled, and she wanted more than anything to stay in control of her reaction to him, but she couldn’t hide her shaky breathing. His expression remained calm, which didn’t help matters in the least.

“You’ll know everything about my involvement with the man in due course. Right now, I simply want your agreement to give me a chance to help you. Now how about you sit? You needn’t fear me.”

“So, you’re going to bail me out and then what? I become
your
whore? If you know
him
, you know well enough I’ve been in that role before, and I have no intention of being put in that position again. Frankly, I’d rather remain chained to this fucking table for the rest of my life.” She was practically spitting in her flurry of emotion.

“I have no interest in raping you or forcing your will. But you’re going to have to put some trust in me, and I realize that’s not an easy thing to come by in your current state.” His focused remained passively on her.

“And what do you gain from this?” She took a deep and steadying breath.

“Would you believe me if I told you I’m simply trying to do the moral thing, right the wrong that was done to you?” She shook her head but remained quiet. “I didn’t think so. So then, I guess the real question is how long do you want to sit in that jail cell of yours? Trust can wait for another day. I’m hoping your desire to get out of this place will be enough for the moment.”

She stared, saying nothing, and he stared coolly right back. Handsome or no, he was intimidating. Mason had been handsome too, and he’d turned out to be a monster. The fact this man was easy to look at meant nothing. Every man she came across looked like Mason from one angle or another. But how long did she want to sit in this damn jail cell? This was her fourth arrest since escaping Mason’s house of horrors … or was it whores?

Every sentence the court handed down, minimal as they had so far been, had been longer than the previous. She’d no doubt be facing jail time with this one. She’d already been arraigned, and her court date wasn’t for more than a month. Did she want to sit in jail for the next thirty days when she could get out now? If she could get out now … well then, perhaps she could escape and run away for good. No more jail, no more police. A new life … or perhaps something more closely resembling her old life.

“Okay.” She straightened her back, trying for confidence. “Fine. Now, who the hell are you?”

“My name is Quentin Bremmer. I’m a doctor.”

“And you think I believe you?” She had no real reason not to.

“I don’t much care if you believe me. You’ll figure it out soon enough.” The man stood and turned to the door, stopping just before passing through. “I’ll arrange bail, and I’ll see you soon. Very good to see you again, Abigail.” And then he was gone, and she was perplexed. Had she met him before? She couldn’t possibly have, but he’d said it. “See you again.” Brilliant. Now she had Alzheimer’s on top of her many legal woes.

The man was handsome. There was no denying it, and if she didn’t hate anything with a penis attached to it, she’d likely find him quite appealing. There was something so calm and controlled about his manner. He wasn’t rattled by her. His expression was cool and appraising. He wasn’t a man who would smile unless he wanted to, frown unless he felt like it, and show anything of himself unless he had a mind to. Absolute control.

She liked that about him. She didn’t like
him
, certainly not. But there was something soothing about his quiet body. Mason had been loud, sarcastic, and vulgar. It was as if a flurry of movement, loudness, and threat followed him around and emanated from his being, and she had always been just seconds away from startling like a scared bird. For two long years she’d live in that state of constant panic. But this man was different. There was no flurry of threat following him around. Just peace, quiet, calm.

As she waited for the guard to come collect her, she let her mind drift to the secret place she enjoyed going to on occasion. She didn’t fear or hate men in this place. This place was the world she left behind nearly three years ago, and the man, Quentin, fit in nicely there. She liked the image of him in that world. But that world didn’t really exist anymore, and even men with composure such as Quentin weren’t to be trusted.