Mixed Feelings (Empathy in the PPNW Book 1) (13 page)

“Oh, no, but they burn like
an Irish baby. It’s pathetic. No problems with garlic, mirrors, or running
water, either.” Mel paused before leaning close, evidently deciding he was done
with the subject. “So, did you want more cake, or are you interested in beating
around my bush?”

“
Don
’t be gross,”

He laughed. “
Well
, then I guess there’s
nothing left to do except get you home to your wife.”

“I
’d make a terrible
husband,
” I said as he helped me to my feet. Any other day I
would have rather followed lemmings off a cliff than let Mel touch me, but we
were getting along pretty well, all things considered. Plus, I’d felt lousy
enough even before being pummeled by the emotions
of grieving parents; I needed
the assist.
Mel
didn’t even make any comments about how getting to my feet made me groan like a
dog being hugged too hard by an excitable child.

“Because you never want sex?”
Mel asked once I could make my body cooperate with the orders to move. I almost
would have preferred falling flat on my face.

“I never want sex with
you
,
” I corrected.

“But you want sex with Chloe?
No wonder you’re not interested in all of this,” Mel said, and I
didn
’t need to look over to know he was gesturing to his
physique like it was an expensive car.

I rolled my eyes, but found
myself laughing at his arrogance. “No matter what you say, I refuse to believe
that the only women who turn you down do so because they’
re lesbians.
”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to imply
you’
re gay,
” Mel said, picking up the
pace to open the car door for me. I paused next to him, ey
e
ing him suspiciously for not only the nice gesture but also whatever was
about to come out of his mouth. I knew it was
n
’t likely to be as nice.

“
I
’m almost afraid to ask what you
are
implying.”

“Just that Chloe would kick
my ass if I ever suggested I’m better in bed than she is.”

“Is that so?” I asked,
heaving myself into his ostentatious SUV with another groan of displeasure. “I
like the mental image of Chloe knocking you around.”

“Me too,” he murmured with a
grin. “I like it rough.” I should have known better than to give his mind any
chance to head for the gutter.

Chapter Ten

Mel offered to carry me into
the house, but I couldn't tell if he was sincere or just looking for an excuse
to cop a feel, so I declined.

“You look worse,” Chloe said
as we stepped inside. “Why do you look worse?”

“She ate half the cake at the
café,” Mel said. “Her insides are probably revolting.”

“They're no less attractive
than the rest of me,” I countered, angry he'd ratted on me. Silence had been
part of the deal, dammit. “And it wasn't that much cake.”

“You didn't need
any
cake,” Chloe chastised. “Now sit down before your legs give out.”

“
I look that bad?” I asked as I hit the couch. Chloe
was already in the kitchen getting me some water.

“
You look worse,
” Mel said and I turned to
snarl his way.

“I didn’t ask your opinion,
so stuff it.
No!
” I held up a hand,
anticipating his next comment. “No more gutter talk. If it doesn’t have to do
with the case, I don’t want to hear it.”

Mel watched me in silence,
poised on the edge of
innuendo and clearly trying
to decide if he wanted to take orders or let me be. Chloe dropped down next to
me and pressed the glass of water into my hand.

“
We
’re not here to joke about your dick, Mel,” she said, though her tone
was much less aggressive than mine. “Keep it civil.”

“
No one jokes
—”

“I will throw this water at
you!” I threatened, my frustration at how quickly he could go from
affable
to insufferable making me forget how unpleasant I
felt.

“You could, but then I’d have
to take my shirt off, maybe my pants and—”

“
Mel.
”
Chloe
’s tone was still pleasant,
no threat
or irritation in her
voice
, but it
shut him up instantly. I considered
her
and
her impressive powers of persuasion and wondered if she would ever be willing
to teach me how to get Mel to shut up with a single syllable.

“Right,” he said after a few
moments. “We met with the Morrises and learned that Ashley has recently
developed fire powers. She’s started melting toys, burning sleeves, that sort
of thing.”

“
She
’s so young,” Chloe said, distress waving out of her to splash against
my shoulder like water at the edge of a lukewarm pool. “Is that what her parents
do? Start fires?”

“Marian can tell when people
are lying. It’s the only reason they agreed to let us help, I think,” I
explained.

“Gwen nearly scared them off
when she started rambling on about feelings.”

“You told them you’re an
empath?” Chloe asked, the distress lapping against me harder. “
You don
’t usually do that.”

“I figured it would be fine
to do with them. If Laurel and Hardy were headed over there, that meant there
was a fifty-fifty shot the kid could do something and they’
d seen it.
”

“And if they hadn’t? If you
just announced you’re psychic and they didn’t take it well, what then?”
Disapproval slithered through Chloe’s distress and I shrank back.

“Um. They’d think I was
crazy?”

“Best case scenario, we would
have lost out on a lead. Worst case, they might have reported you two to the
police, worried you were in on the kidnapping somehow. You didn’t think it
through.”

“What was I supposed to do?
They were crying and I wanted to cry and
I
could
tell they didn’t really trust us so I just sort of blurted it out.”

“It worked out in the end,”
Mel said, drawing Chloe’s attention. She studied him for a moment, still
unhappy that I’d revealed my power to the
Morrises.

“It worked out fine. No one
called the cops on us, as far as I know.” I glanced at the picture window that
sat behind Sonny’
s cage.
“No feds parked on the street
in a stakeout to catch the empath and smuggle her into a government lab.”

“That you know of,” Mel
whispered.

“
Shut up,
” I snapped. He laughed but
didn’t continue to tease.
Chloe
’s emotions melted away from distress and she looked between us.

“
I
’m surprised you two convinced anyone to trust you. You’re like
children.”

“
Am not,
” I argued, stomping my foot as petulantly as I could
manage.

“
Hey, I
’m all man,” Mel said, lifting his arm to flex his
bicep through his sweater. Chloe didn’t look his way, her eyes on me as she
gestured for me to keep going.

“
Oh, ah.
..” I took a second to remember where I’d been before
she’d gone all mom on me. “
She
—so, they agreed to let
us help and we talked some about Laurel and Hardy and how we both saw them when
we were kids. Then I promised to bring Ashley home safe and that was kind of
it.”

“I hope you can keep that
promise,”
Chloe
said
.

“Me too. And not just because
of what Laurel and Hardy might do to me if I don’
t.
”

Chloe rolled her eyes in
disapproval but I trusted she knew I was joking. Mostly.

***

I
spent the evening lounging, picking at the foods Chloe
had left me
—everything had
vegetables in it; unbelievable! It was like living with my mother
again—and communed with Sonny in front of the worst television
programming mankind has to offer.

As
the bird and I discussed the
finer points of a TV movie about the ghost of a detective
helping
solve his own murder, I realized I needed to be more
like the Inspectre. I couldn’t just sit around mourning the loss of my
candy-filled life of happiness; I needed to do something about it. I needed to
get off my achy ass, head to the store, and restock my kitchen with all the
junk food that had been stolen from me.

Sure, it wasn’t as impressive
or difficult as being incorporeal and leaving clues by ruffling papers or
fogging up mirrors, but I felt it would be just as worthwhile.

I pulled into the parking lot
of a gas station mini-mart several blocks from my house and wobbled inside,
headed straight for the candy aisle. I held my reusable bag open and dumped in
candy bars, crispy rice bars, and an entire bag of something that I recognized
as chocolate but couldn’t be bothered to consider any further.
Then
I made a beeline for the
drinks and inspected my options. Straight cola didn’t look intriguing
,
but I did spy a bottle of something
claiming—with more exclamation marks than necessary, I thought—to
be grape
-
flavored. My tongue turned
purple just looking at it. I grabbed the largest size of it that I could find,
heaved it into my bag
,
and turned toward the
counter, foolishly thinking I was done shopping.

Then the siren song of the
ice cream
cooler
called my name and I was
powerless to resist.

I perused my options with the
glee of a five-year-old given free
rein
and finally settled on something chocolate that was
not only laden with a slightly different kind of chocolate but also swirled
with utterly artificial “
cherry
” flavor and gummy bears, which were also covered in chocolate.

Just to be safe, I grabbed
three containers.

I paid cash for my bounty and
the boy behind the counter had a knowing look on his face. I realized he
probably thought I was stoned
,
but I took his “solidarity,
sister” expression and returned a small
, proud
smile. I don
’t need to be high to eat
this way, buddy, but whatever floats your boat.

I ate an entire candy bar
before I hit the door and, as the sugar permeated my system, I started to feel
a bit better. I wouldn’t have agreed to running a marathon, or even to watching
someone else coordinate one, but I figured I could get through the evening
without my head splitting in two and letting thousands of scorpions loose upon
the city. I was maybe ten steps from my car, wondering about my sudden
fascination of scorpions
,
when a familiar, liquid
sensation oozed over the back of my neck, gripping my spine like an amorous
slug. I froze, panic flaring up inside me as I spun around
,
convinced whatever had attacked me before had just shown up to finish
the job.

I saw nothing.

The heavy, wet feeling was
still there, terrifying me enough that I was having trouble concentrating. I
didn’t wait to see if I was imagining things. I took off at a run toward the
mini-mart. It wasn’t far; I was confident I could make it, even though running
isn’t exactly a specialty of mine. Turns out, that wasn’t the problem. The
problem was waiting for me in the shadows just before the front doors of the
store.

I yelped and skidded to a
halt, dropping my bag of goodies. My heart tripped over itself as my lungs
forced a tiny secondary yelp out through my lips. The blond creature from
Bellevue took his time, stopping on the sidewalk directly between me and the
lights of the mini-mart. I took one step back and he shook his head.

“We didn’t properly meet
before, Gwen.”

“
Shit,
” I squeaked, frozen with one foot behind the other,
my bag tipped on its side on the ground. It was late and, considering the fact
that it was a bit frosty, with a dewy mist that couldn’
t qu
ite bring itself to be rain blanketing the area, I wasn’t going to bank
on being noticed and saved. Who else but a sugar-mad empath would be out at
this hour in this weather?

Blondie just watched me, a
small smile warping his closed lips. I tried for another step back and he
laughed, tipping his face so the shadows and light conspired to reveal gleaming
fangs and pull my attention straight to them. It made my skin crawl both
because of the threat of it all and because his emotions shifting felt like
lines of custard dribbling down my scalp. I stopped moving, looked around for
anything that might be of help. The contents of my bag shifted suddenly,
drawing my gaze and Blondie’s to it.

One of my pints of
ice cream rolled crookedly out, spinning in the narrow circle its shape
demanded. I stared at my out of season treat for a second before letting out a
terrified, unintentional laugh.

“If any of my candy is
broken, you’re paying for it,” I said, lifting my gaze. Blondie squinted at me,
possibly confused by my bravado. I figured that, since he hadn’t flown forward
and ripped my throat out, I should take that as a sign from the universe that
it wasn’t yet my time to die. Plus, I had just come up with a plan. Sort of.

I moved to my bag, crouching
down to tuck everything back inside and make sure my candy and ice cream were
safe from the giant bottles of excitable soda.

“Everything looks fine,” I
said as I stood up. I just had to keep him off my throat for another few
seconds. “Which is better than I can say for you. I mean, you might want to see
a dentist about those
canines.
”

My plan walked around the
corner behind me, eight teenagers chatting about music, games, and someone
named Mrs. Gulbranson who, according to them, needed to take her fat old ass
and die in a fire. Kids these days, so delicate with words. Blondie’s eyes
flicked to the group as they approached, but he didn’t move. I didn’t move
either, at least not until the kid at the front of the group was level with me.

Abruptly, I reached out,
grabbing her coat.

“
Hey!
” I cried, dragging the word out, clinging close. “You know where
there’s a grocery store around here?”

The kids exploded into a
chorus of irritated questions, demands that I back off, and slang that I didn’t
recognize but that I could figure out easily from the annoyance and shock clamoring
around the crowd. Blondie stayed where he was, but I made as big an ass of
myself as I could.

“I just need a grocery store,
come on!”

At least three of the kids
ordered, “
Let go!
”

“My friend here will juggle
for you! Come on, let him show you.” I pointed at Blondie. “Get a good look,
too! He’s quite the showman!”

“Lady, what the hell
! We don
’t care about your friend!”

“Let go of her!”