Ocean Kills (Ocean Breeze) (18 page)

Ms. Jones nodded, unable to look away from the little girl zonked in her lap. It was my cue to leave.

The air shifted in the room as I called the agony. Damn this gift. This curse. This power that ruled my life. While I possessed this power I had to do what I did: kill the monsters and save the innocent. But it drained me beyond belief.

As the room dissolved, Ms. Jones blew me a kiss. “Thank you.”

That was worth everything. I wished I could’ve shared my money with her. To give her the cash Bazeer paid me to corrupt those young girls. But Callan had my money.
Tonight.
I would get it back tonight.

If I survived.

The sex house appeared around me and I crashed to the floor. My veins oozed with darkness. Faintness rushed into my eyes and ears. I shook my head, fingers clawing the carpet.
Do. Not. Pass. Out. You can do this. Keep going.

Swallowing my moan, I hobbled from Thembi's room. My vision was hazy, throat dry as death. My hands shook so much it took a few attempts to open the next room.

Empty.

The next: empty.

The next two: empty.

Stagnant air welcomed me each time, granting moments of relief. It had been a while since inhabitants resided there.

The second-to-last door held my next task. Another set of twins. These two were ice blonde and as stunning as a pair of porcelain dolls. Turquoise eyes blazed as I clicked the door closed behind me.

Something in their demeanor set my teeth on edge. They clutched each other, fear causing a sheen of sweat to cover their dainty foreheads. Something wasn't right.

The bathroom door opened; both girls screeched in fear.

Shit.

Atsu Bazeer appeared with Clark. The look on Bazeer's face could have frozen over Hawaii. “You are a walking
dead
woman. You will pay for stealing my girls!” His hand lashed from behind his leg with a whip. Instead of one tip it had multiple. An old fashioned cat-o’-nine-tails.

Clark swallowed, looking positively green. A bruise smudged his eye and there were shadows on his chin. At least he didn't give me up willingly. For that, I’d keep my promise and pay him—when I came back to kill the scum-bag Bazeer.

I snarled, “You’re the dregs of the earth. How dare you sell these girls into slavery? You're a monster and
you
will pay!”

Bazeer had the nerve to laugh. His white teeth gleamed against his black skin. His close shaved hair glinted in the light. “Oh, someone will pay, but it won't be me.”

He lashed out with the whip; the tips bit into my face. Barbs of metal sliced my flesh, and streamers of hot blood blinded me. Funny enough, there was no pain. Adrenaline took over, numbing the injury. Fuck, he was fast. My wits were dull from porting.

Run!
I bolted from the room.

He chased me. The whip sliced my back. The strike ripped a scream from my throat. Heat. Burning. Slicing.

I needed to get out of here. I summoned my power.
Jump. Port. Move!

It didn't work like that. I couldn't just command to pop from the room in an instant. After the rescue with Thembi, I was depleted. Even with my handful of cookies. It was an effort to call the power—it needed to percolate, to build, to pressure—to reach a crescendo large enough to hurl me through time and distance.

Hurry!

The crushing migraine began and I welcomed it. The build-up of agony in my bones—I welcomed it that too. The boil of blood—another crack of the whip kissed me. The pain decimated my concentration and I lost the power. Fuck.
Too slow!

I careened down the staircase with the heavy sounds of footsteps behind me. I skidded into strong arms, which clamped around me with pincers of muscle.

How did I allow myself to be trapped?
Stupid. So stupid!
I wriggled and writhed as the henchman held me tight. My teeth snapped at his ear and jaw, but I couldn't get close enough. The roar of weakness made it seem as if I were underwater, or in a horrible dream where none of my limbs obeyed.

Bazeer grunted behind me, ordering the man to hold me firm. I heard the crack of the whip as it bit into my back. I wanted to scream—to release the pain rampaging through me. Adrenaline could only hide so much before the heat of it shredded all logical thoughts.

Awareness of the peril I was in awoke every fiber of every cell. The whip lashed the back of my legs, cutting my flesh as if I was a tender steak.
Stop!

“Take her to my room.”

My consciousness flickered as I was tossed over the henchman's shoulder and carted to my doom. Blood rained from the wounds on my back, seeping over my ribcage, tickling the sides of my breasts. My lemon dress was in rags.

Someone slapped my butt, and I was thrown onto a bed where I bounced and moaned as the sheets aggravated my cuts. My face was a blaze of fire where he’d whipped me.

Calm, Ocean. You can get out of here. Focus.

My power built as the door slammed. Atsu Bazeer loomed above me. He growled, “You owe me over thirty million rand. I will take great pleasure extracting it from your flesh, then I will sell you as a discount slut to my clients. I will tell them a fuck with you will cure them of any disease. You will die a ravaged death from AIDS and who knows what else. This is the payment I will take from you.” His fat hands clawed at his shirt buttons; cuff links went flying.

My heart raced. My body ached all over. Migraine pain caused light to pierce my skull. I was about to be raped, and there was nothing I could do.

Shit, Ocean! Port already!

The shirt was torn off in his hurry; he clambered onto the bed. I whimpered despite myself, trying to crawl away from him, but he trapped me by kneeling on the fabric of my dress, keeping me locked beneath him.

This was some horror-filled cruel joke the universe was playing on me. Every second of my life I walked a tightrope of power versus emotion. One wrong step, and the power consumed me. Now, when I wanted nothing more than to disappear, the power left me to wallow in hell.

Come on!

A surge of power; I gasped, but it failed to build enough to allow me to disappear. My nose suddenly gushed blood as I strained to port.
Please free me!
Past memories of that day when I was eight threaded with the current nightmare: Adrian Mathieu’s grunts mixed with Bazeer’s in my mind. Fear latched my throat, oxygen was hard to capture. I swore to myself I’d never be this helpless again. To have my body used against my will. And yet all my running and fighting and killing were for nothing.

The past was about to repeat itself, and it would crush me. I wouldn’t rise from this. My soul was too battered. It was over.

Tears torrented down my cheeks.
Maurice, I'm sorry.

Bazeer ripped the straps off my dress, exposing my chest. He huffed and puffed, already drunk on the thought of sex. He was a rutting beast who no one could stop. His fingers fumbled with his fly.

I scrunched my eyes.

One.
Breathe.
Two.
Breathe. Slowly, my heart rate tamed. I was rewarded with a bursting migraine. I was close.
Don't give up. Just a little more
.

Hands were on me, pawing at my core, ripping away my knickers. My breathing was out of control. Panic suffocated me as my knees were pushed apart. I couldn't help but fight. I screamed and writhed, fighting as wildly as any jungle cat.

Finally.

My eyes bulged with pain and the room grew less substantial; invading hands were suddenly less real. For once, I welcomed the burst of fracturing reality. I
relished
the drenching of blood from my nose. I
loved
the agony of vessels popping in my eyes. I never tasted anything as delicious as my body splitting itself to pieces.

In a whoosh, which was music to my soul, I was free.

A vague curse exploded from Bazeer as I left behind vulgar hands and rancid probing. The journey of speed, of pain and horror, gave me too long to think about what I’d narrowly escaped.

Guilt crushed me. I was safe, but I’d left those twins behind. What would happen to them? How could I leave them there?

Sobs escaped my chest as Maurice's library smoked to solid and I crumbled to the floor. I tried to keep my dignity, clasping the rags of my dress to hide my breasts. A moan wrenched from my lips.

Maurice hobbled quickly down the stairs in his plaid pajamas. It was dark here. Night-time.

“Oh God! What happened?” His hands landed on my back in the gloom. I screamed. The cuts from the whip were deep and weeping, the pain in full swell. Adrenaline abandoned me, leaving me to shake and shudder with misery.

Maurice whimpered, wringing his hands. “Tell me. What should I do?”

I couldn't answer. Tears choked me. Guilt pressed the air out of my lungs. The pain stole my sanity and the world flickered to nothingness.

Chapter Seventeen: Callan

I
groaned and rolled onto my back. Ocean stood me up. She lied to me. How stupid was I to believe her words on instant messenger?

She played me for a fool. And it served me right. It was my own bloody fault for letting myself become infatuated with a complete stranger. Sure, something drew me to her, but she obviously didn't feel the same way. A small voice nagged me. Perhaps something happened to stop her from coming?

Ugh.Shut up voices in my head
. I couldn't take the worry anymore. The constant images of her hurt, or worse. I was an idiot to get caught up in something like this.

My clock glowed bright neon: 4:14 a.m.

Face it, Callan. She isn't going to show.
My worry and internal dialogue were on repeat. I wanted to punch myself.

Stupid. Idiotic
.

I groaned again, swiping a hand over my face. Perhaps she
had
meant to come. . .

My eyes snapped open, heart kicking into life.

I couldn't move fast enough. I jumped out of bed and tore down my corridor. Phone. Where was my bloody phone?

My movements were jerky as I tore through my notepad, looking frantically for Maurice Green's number.
Hang on, don’t need it. It’ll be in my mobile’s memory.
Maurice was rather surprised when I called him yesterday, demanding to know why he played with Ocean's life. Why he put her in danger.

He politely but firmly put me in my place. Ocean's life was exactly that—her life. He had no power over what she did or who she saved. I couldn't understand how he lived with the constant stress and worry. How was he not dead from panic? I was close to the edge as it was and I’d only known her a few flipping days.

And didn’t Ocean care she might cause Maurice an aneurysm by bouncing off to play vigilante? Damn bloody woman.

I couldn't keep my breathing level as I retrieved my mobile from the back of the couch. My thumb shook as I recalled the last number I dialed.

I paced, struggling to control my erratic heart as the ring continued. It dropped off.

“Fuck!” I retyped the number. “Pick up, Maurice. Pick up, damn you!”

Finally, a click, and a husky voice muttered, “I'm not open for business right now.”

Business? Ignoring that, I clipped, “Where's Ocean?”

A sharp snort, followed by an angry breath. “I thought we went over this yesterday. That is none of your concern.”

“I told you where she was. I want my favor returned.” 

A long silence. Finally, Maurice said, “You did. And I thank you. But now is not the time.”

I shivered. Something was wrong. “What happened?” Silence again. Was he still there? “Hello?”

“Ocean is here. With me. There was an incident.”

My entire body repelled from the idea, but I had to ask. “Is she dead?”
Say no. Please say no.

“She's alive. She will heal.”

I exhaled in a rush. My eyes danced around my apartment, looking for something to latch onto; something I could do to help her. My gaze landed on the overstuffed envelope sitting on my kitchen counter.

In a spilt, rash decision, I said, “I'm coming to England.” Then hung up.

The rest was a blur. I didn't have a job, so I was free to bugger off for as long as I wanted. I continued to pace, calling airlines, booking a last minute economy ticket to Manchester, then dashing back to my room to pack a bag of necessities.

An hour later, I was in a taxi charging to the airport. In my rush, I almost forgot my laptop and Emily Snow's file. Researching her and the missing girls would keep my mind from going bonkers on the long flight.

A few hours later, I was squeezed into a sardine-sized seat and taking off.

I tasted madness in myself. I couldn’t believe I was on my way to England to see a woman who told me to leave her alone. But how could I? How many women could teleport? How many women fought for justice in the same merciless way I did?

I needed to
know
her. Not through a profile report or research, but by talking to her, caring for her.

This felt right. I wouldn’t give up on her. And I couldn't wait to see her reaction when she found out I used her own cash to chase her.