Darlings of Paranormal Romance (Anthology) (114 page)

"Damn you to hell." She glared at
him, furious at herself, and the situation.

He laughed. "Not like you planned,
huh?"

She twisted her head to check the
window. It was wide open.

If she screamed, the dogs still would
not be able to get through the door. There was no lock, still she
had yet to teach any animal to open the door latch. Soldier was an
incredibly determined animal. He was strong enough to break the
door down if he wanted to. Or if he were mad enough. If she could
find the right trigger. What had she called him in the vet's office
so long ago?

At the top of her lungs, she
screamed, "Major, git!"

"Whoever you're calling – let him
come. I'll kill him too."

His knife slid upward without
warning, cutting her throat under her chin.

Sam screamed. The drugs gave him
enormous size. Nothing was needed to emphasize his natural cruelty.
He was too big for her to move. Furious and in pain, she struggled
for freedom. He laughed again, placing a knee on her chest. In a
startling motion, he stabbed the knife into the mattress beside her
ear, cutting locks of hair and grasping her throat in both
hands.

"I want to squeeze the life from your
body myself, you stupid bitch."

Black dots appeared before her eyes.
Static filled her ears. She automatically grabbed his hands, trying
to free her throat from his grasp. She gurgled for air, bucking to
get rid of him. To no avail. With her strength gone and almost no
air, she collapsed back down. This was the end then.

Her mind went cloudy. The killer's
face blurred. The rage and joy in eyes blended into something pure
evil. Her arms fell to her sides.

The last of her air bubbled from her
lungs. Suddenly, the weight was lifted off – she was free. Sam
gasped frantically for air, her hands circling her own throat,
protectively. She rolled over into a tightly curled up ball,
coughing as she gulped for air. "Oh, God," she whispered, her voice
barely recognizable.

Noises penetrated the fog in her
mind. Growling, and yelling, thuds and blows surrounded her. She
shuffled on the bed to huddle at the headboard, trying to avoid
bodies that crashed down beside her. Teeth bared, fur flying,
Soldier had locked onto the killer's shoulder. Moses had locked on
the man's leg. The killer grunted and punched, kicking any area he
could as the three rolled in mortal combat.

The bedroom door swung in the cold
night air.

Sam winced at the heavy thud of boot
on bone. Soldier howled.

God, Soldier was already injured. She
had to help him. Her body refused to respond to her orders. The
shine of the blade, still embedded in the mattress, caught her eye.
She focused on the shine.

Her hand grabbed the hilt just as the
killer grabbed her arm pulling her back. Sam punched with her free
hand and tried to kick. There was too much dog in the way and too
many drugs in her system. She stumbled.

Finding an opportunity, she collected
the last of her cohesive energy and lunged, digging her right hand,
fingers stiff like claws, into the soft spots of his throat. Her
left hand stabbed upward with the knife. He raised his arm
defensively. The blade caught his arm and sliced upward, deflecting
off bone. He screamed. "Bitch."

His much longer reach latched around
her throat. Sam screamed at Soldier again, "Major.
Kill."

From the corner of her eye, she
hardly recognized the dog. His fangs dripped saliva and blood, and
the howl coming from the back of his throat
was...otherworldly.

Soldier was on a mission, and she was
in the way.

His lip curled, his shoulders hunched
up. Sam pushed herself away in a clumsy movement that tumbled her
backwards onto the mattress. She needn't have worried. Soldier's
jaw replaced her hands, ripping into her attacker's shoulder. The
knife was jerked out of her hand.

Soldier's howls, dragged from deep
down and forced through his clenched jaw, scared her
shitless.

She turned slightly. The killer had
the knife raised to bring down on Soldier's spine. "No!" She
grabbed his knife arm with both hands and tried to stop him. "You
bastard, leave him alone." Her arms trembled. Still, she fought. He
grinned at her. She couldn't beat him. He was too strong, and knew
it. Soldier continued to howl, splitting the air with his tone. The
noise drove through her brain. She groaned, her knees collapsing
under her weakening body.

"God,
Brandt, where are you?" She needed him. She screamed silently into
the dark of night.
Now
.

***

2:44 am

"Jesus." Brandt swore he could hear
Sam yelling in his head. It was bad enough hearing Stefan screaming
though the phone at him a few minutes ago and knowing no one else
could get to her before him.

The sounds coming from inside the
house sent terror stabbing through his heart. 'Hang on Sam! I'm
coming," he yelled. Brandt raced through the living room, barely
noticing the body collapsed in a pool of blood on the porch. The
screams and howls from upstairs pierced the night. He took the
stairs two at a time. The scene that greeted him made his stomach
churn.

Blood splattered everywhere. Soldier
and Sam were locked in a death fight with a large male, Moses
reduced to a crumpled heap of fur on the floor.

Brandt jumped into the fray, knocking
the knife from the killer's hand and pulling Sam loose. She
stumbled a few feet then collapsed to the floor. The killer ignored
him. Bent on destroying the fury chomping through his shoulder, he
immediately locked his hands around Soldier's throat, squeezing
tight.

Bloody bubbles foamed out of
Soldier's mouth. Blood coated his fur. The sound coming out from
his mouth, an unholy alliance with hell.

His gun trained on the two still
caught in a life and death grip. "Sam, talk to me. Are you
okay?"

"Yes," she mumbled, managing a small
nod to reinforce her statement. "I think so." She reached up to her
throat, barely able to touch the raw skin. "Save
Soldier."

He spared her a quick glance,
slightly reassured that Sam had crawled to Moses and was talking –
not very coherently, still she could communicate. "Stay back. I
have to get Soldier off first. I don't want to have to shoot
him."

Brandt turned his attention to the
still-howling dog locked on to the killer's shoulder. "Let the dog
go. I'll get him off you."

"Like hell.," the killer gasped.
"This asshole should have died a long time ago. Worthless piece of
shit."

Brandt didn't know what he was
talking about, and it didn't matter right now. Somehow he had to
save the dog. For Sam's sake. The killer be damned. "Let go of the
dog, or I'll shoot."

"Fuck you." The killer grinned at him
through bared teeth as he removed one hand from Soldier's throat
and with a quick twist of his wrist slid a dagger free from his
belt and threw it.

"Brandt!"

The dagger stabbed into the wall
behind Brandt, missing him completely. Brandt didn't miss the
killer. The bullet hit him low in the left shoulder. The grin fell
off his face as he stumbled to the floor.

Soldier, now with the upper hand and
caught in a blood lust of his own, lunged again. He reclamped his
jaws into a tighter grip.

"Soldier!" Brandt ordered. "Soldier!
Stand down." He repeated it twice before the dog stopped trembling
and unlocked his jaw. Brandt stepped closer, the gun trained on the
killer.

Soldier curled his lip at
him.

"It's okay, boy. You've done good.
Move, Soldier."

The dog dripped blood from open
tissue shinning wetly in the dark.

"Soldier. Down."

In the distance, the sound of sirens
grew stronger.

Brandt didn't think the dog was going
to listen. Finally in a crippled shuffling movement, the dog slid
to the floor. He was hurt, and badly. Brandt kicked the knife away.
The killer glared at him, blood pouring from both
shoulders.

Sirens filled the air, colored
flashing lights filled the room.

"It's okay Sam. The ambulance and
police are here."

"Sam?"

Silence filled the room.

Brandt spun around to look, his gun
still trained on the killer. "Sam?" Fear spiked his voice to a
scream. Crumpled in a bloody pile on the floor, Sam lay between the
two dogs. All three looked dead.

Chapter 26

Sam walked slowly down to the dock,
Brandt at her side. Soldier hobbled behind them. Moses, moving much
slower, brought up the rear. Sam wouldn't want it any other
way.

She tried not to dwell on the events
of that night. She didn't remember much and that's the way she
wanted to keep it. She'd been rushed to the hospital where the
doctors had frantically tried to stop the spread of the poison from
the cocktail of drugs guaranteed to kill her. If it hadn't been for
Brandt she would have died. Chills ran down her spine at the
reminder.

It had been late the next day before
she'd surfaced – screaming. Brandt had been at her side, a place
he'd stayed during the first week of her recovery. Once out of
hospital, they'd enjoyed the time alone at the lake. A healing
time. But then he'd had to go back to work.

Sam had returned to the clinic soon
after.

At the clinic, she'd refused to talk
about the events, hoping the chatter would die down and with time –
it had. Still, David, a good family man and an off-duty cop pulling
extra time, lost his life when he'd stepped outside for a
cigarette. He'd wandered out to the deck and never had a chance to
draw his first smoke-filled breath.

The dogs had been rushed to the
clinic where they'd both undergone surgery. Thank God, the vets had
done it for free. Sam didn't have that kind of money, and although
Brandt had joked that his department should pay the dogs' medical
costs, she hadn't wanted to ask for it.

She didn't know what the future held,
although more people than she'd ever thought possible stopped her
on the street to ask what she saw in their futures. Her fame as a
psychic had spread after the details of the attack had leaked to
the press.

Speaking of leaks, Dillon had been
reprimanded and transferred to another station.

As for Deputy Brooker, Brandt had
matched shells picked up from the woods around her place to his
gun, finally. He'd followed Brandt to her place when Soldier had
caught his scent in the woods. His truck was the same as the one
who'd tried to run her off the road. He wasn't admitting anything
more at this point. She didn't know what he was going to be charged
with at the end of the ongoing investigation, yet she could count
on Brandt to make sure he'd be out of commission for a long time.
Sam had agreed to testify and help their case in any way. She
wasn't looking forward to seeing Brooker face to face, only knew
she could do it and survive. She was stronger now – in many
ways.

Captain Johansen had apologized
profusely. Every time he saw her, in fact. He'd even thanked her.
Who knew how long William Durant would have continued killing women
if not for her visions. She could grin at the captain now. It had
taken awhile, but she was slowly getting used to being around
people.

Brandt had helped with that. So, too
had Maisy, Brandt's mother. The colonel had recovered. He'd
recognized the ring as being on the hand of the dog handler that
brought the animals in to visit the patients at the center. A very
subdued Maisy confessed that the dog handler had been there when
she'd established the pool on when the colonel would remember what
he'd forgotten about the ring. She'd actually asked him if he
wanted in on the bets. That had sealed the colonel's fate…or
nearly.

Even Soldier's story might have been
connected. Although, chances are they'd never know for sure. The
dog had certainly known what to do when the time had come. William
Durant hadn't survived surgery. Sam found it hard to care. The
world was better off without him and this way she didn't have to go
through two trials.

Brandt was backtracking the guy's
life, searching for links to other murders in his files. He was
hoping for evidence to close dozens of cases – not to mention bring
closure to dozens of families.

It would take some time. As a dog
trainer, Bill had exposure to people, care homes, and even the
hospital where he took animals in to visit with the patients. This
allowed him to travel to various locations without raising
suspicion. Teaching obedience training gave him access to hundreds
of women. An opportunity he'd taken full advantage of.

Louise Enderby's long-time partner
had come forward after seeing the news. He'd been on the board for
the city's animal shelters – he'd fired William from a part time
job at the pound where he was to rehabilitate last-ditch cases.
He'd been caught abusing the animals instead. An organization that
relied heavily on donations, the pound hadn't wanted any negative
publicity and agreed not to press charges if Bill disappeared – for
good.