Patient Darkness: Brooding City Series Book 2 (20 page)

Greg emerged from the bathroom in an exhale of steam. “All better,” he announced.

“I don’t even want to think through the implications of that.”

His nephew sniffed the air. “Dinner smells good.”

“It’s a family recipe. I’ll teach it to you sometime.”

“Why would I learn to cook when I have you to do it for me?” He walked over and sat on the couch. He began contentedly flipping through television channels, though his head was turned slightly in Brennan’s direction.

“About that,” Brennan started. “Have you found anywhere to work yet?”

“It’s a brutal job market out there, you know? I have a few places I’m interested in, but I don’t know if they’ll hire me.”

Brennan crossed his arms. “You’ll never know until you try. Well, at any rate, I don’t want you going out tonight.”

“Why don’t—oh, is this about that serial killer?” Several more channels passed under his thumb.

“Greg, this is serious. We’re hunting him, but for now it’s better if you stay home. He’s targeting specific individuals. People like us.”

“I’m not a Sleeper,” Greg said, sounding bored. “And neither are you. So what’s there to worry about?”

Brennan sighed. He sat down heavily and rested an arm on the back of the couch. “There’s more to all of this than Sleepers and non-Sleepers,” he explained. “With enough experience and training, anyone can become a Sleeper.”

“Even me?”

“Yes, but that’s beside the point. I don’t know what it is, exactly, but your gift of foresight isn’t Sleeper-related. It’s something much greater than that, and this serial killer is tracking people like us.”

“Like us?” Greg slowly lowered the remote and gave him his full attention. “What can
you
do?”

“This isn’t important right now—”

“No, no, I think I’d like to hear it.”

“All I want is for you to stay home tonight with the door locked. Hell, even push the couch in front of it.”

Greg gulped, but otherwise kept any emotions from showing. “If you don’t tell me what you can do—and what the hell we
are
—then I am going to walk all over the seediest neighborhoods while wearing a t-shirt that has ‘I’m a psychic’ written in bold print.”

Brennan shifted his jaw around and stared sternly at his nephew. He knew the odds were slim that the FBI might already have ears
inside
his apartment, but paranoia was an old habit from his Sleeper days, and it was a tough one to break. “What I’m about to tell you can’t leave this apartment.”

“What is it with you and secrets? You said the same thing before you told me you were a Sleeper.”

“Promise me, Greg!”

“All right, fine. Your secret is safe with me, Batman.”

True.

Brennan exhaled loudly. “We are…different.”

“Thanks, sensei. I got that much.”

“Sensei Batman is talking, so your attitude needs to take a backseat for a second.”

Greg frowned, looking chagrined. “Sorry.”

“I didn’t mean to snap at you, it’s just…this is important.” He took one last breath and took the plunge. “I can tell when people are lying to me. Anybody—
everybody
—at any time.”

“But I’ve lied to you tons of times and you never knew.” Brennan gave him an even look, and Greg’s eyes widened in comprehension. “Oh. Umm…shit.”

“Yeah.”

“So I can see the future and you can see…what? The truth?”

“More or less. But what I’m saying is, these kinds of gifts aren’t exclusive to Sleepers, or even common among us.”

“Us?”

“
Them
,” Brennan amended.

“You said us,” Greg continued. “Did you…are you
one of them
again?”

Brennan wiped a hand over his face. “It’s complicated, okay? I’ve found out some things that have shifted my perspective of them a little bit.”

Greg scoffed. “A little bit? This is a complete one-eighty!”

“Focus! This serial killer isn’t hunting normal people, or even Sleepers in particular. He’s hunting people with
powers
, people like you and me.”

“You and
I
.”

“Sensei Batman hates grammar Nazis,” Brennan warned. “Particularly when they’re wrong.”

Greg leaned deeper into the couch and scratched his head. “So you’re saying I shouldn’t go out tonight?”

“I’m forbidding it.”

“You do realize this means I’ll have to put my job hunt on hold, right?”

Brennan shifted to lock eyes with his nephew. “Greg, this is a dangerous man, and we’ve made him desperate. I need you to take this seriously.”

“Uncle Arty, I
am
taking this seriously. But if I have to cower in fear every time some bad guy wants to take a shot at you, how do you expect me to deal with my
own
problems? How do you expect me to survive in a city where dangerous stuff goes down every day?” His lips spread in his foolish grin. “I’d rather
live
and go out with a smile on my face than be fearful of every creaking stair and dark alleyway.”

“Maybe I don’t need to keep you in the city after all,” Brennan mused.

“What’s that?” Greg eyed him suspiciously. “Are you sending me somewhere?”

“It might be worth it to look up more information on the Scottages out in the valley,” Brennan suggested. He watched as his nephew’s eyes lit up with excitement, even as he kept the true reason for his suggestion to himself. It would give him the opportunity to investigate the death of Jeremy Scott, and the search for housing information would provide a decent distraction for Greg. Two birds with one stone.

Greg reached eagerly for his laptop. “I’ll start looking it up now!” He inhaled deeply and made a show of licking his lips. “Dinner smells ready.”

“Oh, I forgot!” Brennan leaped up and ran to the kitchen. He slipped on a padded glove and grabbed the tray from the oven. The taco log was a work of perfection; steam rose from between the openings in its golden, flaky crust, carrying with it the aroma of cooked meat, melted cheese, and spices.

He called out to Greg. “Come on over and make yourself a plate,” he said. “We might as well eat while I wait for Sam to get back to me.”

Alex waited for
Kern to come around and open her door.

It had been a long drive home, and the tension in the air was palpable. Her attempt at cold-shouldering her father had melted away several miles ago, and now she wanted little more than to collapse into her bed with the help of a little wine.

Or a lot of wine.

Her power’s absence kept her on edge. It was unnerving, not knowing what others were thinking around her. She hadn’t realized until now just how heavily she had drawn on its insights. How she longed to escape into another person’s eyes, to hear another person’s thoughts besides her own. It was impossible, though, and she now trusted her safety to an aging manservant, her never-aging father, and the relative security provided to her by being miles from the city.

And I will have my mother, of course
, Alex added. Nobody could hear
her
thoughts, but she felt guilty about excluding her from the mental checklist.
Not that she can do much protecting.

On top of that, she knew that her temporary protection of Detective Brennan had come to an end. Heinrich and the rest of Leviathan would be coming for his blood, and there was nothing she could do to warn him. Perhaps Benjamin and his Sleepers could still stop the serial killer even after Brennan was dead. It was the best she could ask for if she ever hoped to live securely in the city again.

The car door opened, and Kern reached out a hand to help her up. He dutifully walked ahead of them to get the front door as well. “Thank you, Kern,” Alex said, touching him on the shoulder. It was an action she’d seen her mother do on occasion when she was younger, a kind gesture for a fatherly figure.

“Of course,” he replied. Kern looked to her father. “Dinner will be ready within the hour.”

“I’ll be in my study until then.”

“Very good, sir.”

Alex left them in the foyer and took the curved flight of stairs to the second floor. Her room lay at the end of the hall, directly above the converted room where her mother now resided. She hung her jacket on a nearby hook and fell onto the plush bed, not even bothering to take off her shoes. The comforter felt good beneath her head, and sleep tempted her with ease. Her eyes were heavy, and it felt like much longer than a day ago that she had lost her powers.

I don’t want to be here.

The thought pushed its way into her head, and Alex frowned up at the ceiling. She wanted everything to go back to normal. Or, at least,
her
version of what was normal. Only one good thing had come of the past few days, and that had been the brief realization that she could grow and adopt other abilities. That bit of experimentation had ended, though, when it short-circuited
everything
she could do, including the simplest bit of telepathy.

Still, this was the best place for her to recover. She
did
want to be here. It must have been the depression talking, or else she was crazier than she’d thought. She certainly didn’t want to be in the city right now, not with a serial killer on the loose.

Her bedroom windows faced the west, and the setting sun threw harsh bolts of light into her face. Alex pulled a pillow over her head and tried to not think about anything. That set her on a dangerous path of thinking about not thinking, and the subsequent thoughts about
that
conundrum. She wasn’t used to being stuck in her own head.

How do normal people do it?
she wondered. She quickly discarded the thought. There was a reason she lived in a luxury apartment above the rest of the city; she was special, an elite, truly above the rest of the city’s inhabitants. The only person who could compare to her abilities was her father.

“And Benjamin,” she sighed. The old man and his Sleepers were nearly on her level—but only
nearly
so. Now that she knew they were real, she could defend herself from their psychic probes into her sleeping mind. She would take what they could offer while developing her own powers, and when the time came, she would be the strongest of them all. “For that to happen,” she said aloud, “I need to rest.”

As hard as she willed it, though, sleep didn’t come for her. It was a major setback in her plan to become the ultimate Sleeper. Sleep seemed like a necessary component in the job description.

Alex slipped off her shoes and crawled further onto the bed. She yawned, hoping to trick her brain into thinking it was later in the day than it actually was. The heaviness in her eyelids returned, and the comfort of the mattress increased fivefold. She closed her eyes for the briefest of moments.

“Miss Brüding,” prompted Kern’s polite voice from the doorway. “Dinner is ready.”

Alex groaned loudly enough for him to hear her. Her eyes were closed and her face was still covered by a pillow, but she knew the sun had set. It was a cool, dark evening. The table was set for two, and there was a visitor in the driveway who would soon need attending to.

Poor child.

She bolted upright in bed and stared at Kern. “Did you say something?”

“Dinner is—”

“No, no,” she interrupted impatiently, “after that.”

Kern shook his head. “I don’t believe so, no, Miss.” The doorbell rang, and Kern turned his white head to glance down the hall. “If you will excuse me.”

“I told you to call me Alex,” she called after him. She heard his amused chuckle echo down the hall, and a similar feeling spread through her chest. It hadn’t originated from her, which could only mean one thing. Alex reached for her power and she felt it there, waiting, as if she were dipping the tips of her fingers into a placid pool of icy water. Goosebumps spread along her arms and her hairs raised on end.

She moaned appreciatively as it swept over her body. Same as taking a dive into a frigid lake, Alex quickly became readjusted to its presence, swaddling herself in the cocoon of extrasensory awareness. She jumped into Kern’s mind, seeing through his eyes and hearing through his ears.

A large man was at the door. He wore a faded leather jerkin over an outfit of jeans and a camouflage shirt. His broad chest was barely contained by the worn material, and a messy crop of dark hair jutted from his head. Flecks of silver shined at the temples. “Is James in?”

“I’m sorry, sir, but Mister Brüding is preparing to sit down to dinner.”

“It’s urgent,” the stranger said. “I need to speak with him as soon as possible.”

Hmm, sounds intriguing,
Alex thought, and she sent a probe toward the newcomer. Instantly, she was met with a flare of violent purple light, as if she had come up against a force field. In fact, that was
exactly
what had happened. She watched through Kern’s eyes as the stranger shifted his gaze, glaring up in the direction of her bedroom.

“I wouldn’t do that again, if I were you,” he said to Kern.

In her bedroom, Alex shivered. She had the distinct impression that he knew she was watching through the butler’s eyes. She knew that he knew she had just tried to read him, and he had been more than prepared.
Just like Heinrich and his men,
she thought, glowering at the idea that so many “others” had been trained to resist her.

She withdrew her probe from Kern and slipped out of the business attire she had worn to the meeting in the Jardin des Anges. It was wrinkled now, and there were more suitable outfits to wear around the house. When she had changed into something more comfortable, Alex walked down the hall and took a different staircase than before, one which avoided the foyer and emerged into the kitchen. From there, she moved to join her father in the dining room.

“Alexis,” he murmured, drawing her in with his arms. He kissed her lightly on the crown of her head, and she returned his warmth briefly. She hadn’t forgotten the secrets he was keeping, though, and she realized that he would still think she was powerless. Perhaps she could question him during dinner, when his guard would be down.

“I think someone is here to see you,” she said in lieu of a proper greeting.

James nodded. “I know who it is. Why don’t you and Kern get started without me?” he suggested, and he pulled out a chair for her to sit. “The sooner I can deal with him, the sooner he’ll be out of our hair.”

“Go do what you need to,” Alex said, playing the part of the dutiful daughter.

He smiled at her, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He strode purposefully down the hall, into the foyer, where he relieved Kern of his job in delaying the visitor. Alex felt Kern’s gratitude wash through his body. Her perception felt even stronger than before. She had to keep herself from grinning like an overexcited fool; Kern was loyal, but that loyalty extended more deeply to her father than to herself. If he realized her powers had returned, the news would soon reach her father’s ear.

Alex forced her own smile as Kern appeared, looking affable and concerned at the same time. “It is not my place to speak ill of your father’s acquaintances,” he said, “but that man has an air of darkness about him.”

“You think so as well?” she asked. Alex had no feelings about the man yet, other than distrust, but if she planned on having a source of information close to her father, she could do no better than their faithful butler. They already had a connection; now she needed to solidify his allegiance, and that started by creating common ground.

“Oh, yes,” Kern said enthusiastically, before he cleared his throat. “But I forget myself. If I may have your plate…?”

She handed the dish to him, and he disappeared into the kitchen, returning a minute later with a full complement of meat, potatoes, green vegetables, and a biscuit. In his other hand, Kern carried a bottle of red wine, one of the older vintages that her father kept in the basement. “Is tonight a special occasion?” she asked.

“Any time that you are home is a special occasion,” Kern said, smiling faintly.

“Oh, Kern, you’re such a flirt.”

He poured her a modest portion of wine, two fingers’ worth. Kern had grown up in the age of scotch and brandy, and it seemed the habit for portioning drinks in such a way had never left him. “It is true, Miss—
Alex
,” he amended, catching her stern glare. “It has not been the same since you moved out, and with Mister Brüding so occupied with his research, your presence has been sorely missed.”

Alex smiled, with feeling this time, as she raised her glass to him. “With all the trouble in the city and
the clock
winding down, perhaps it’s time I returned home for a bit,” she said. There was no need to clarify which clock she meant; there was only one scale of time that mattered in any way to her father. “I can spend these final few months with Mom,” she added in a whisper.

“I’m sure she would be delighted to have your company,” Kern said.

There was the sound of raised voices in the other room, though the incident passed too quickly for Alex to hear what was said. A moment later, the door slammed, and she heard her father’s steps approaching as he returned to the dining room.

“Derrick forgets himself,” he said by way of explanation. He glanced at Kern as he took his seat. “If Mr. Scott shows up unannounced in the future, I give you permission to handle him as you see fit.”

“Of course, sir.”

Alex looked between the two of them in confusion; Kern was too feeble to shovel snow from the driveway, much less fend off unwanted guests. She resisted the impulse to probe them for information, though. Thus far, her father had only permitted her to see what he
wanted
her to see. She didn’t want to set off any psychic wards like the ones she had found inside of the other man.

Everyone and their mother can resist me these days,
she thought grudgingly. She kept the anger from showing in her eyes, though, as she looked up at her father and smiled. “Have you made any progress with the treatment?” It was a hopeless question, but the cure had become her father’s obsession.

His expression soured. “No breakthroughs yet. There just isn’t enough
time
,” he growled. “And with SymbioTech breathing down my neck, I can’t hire Leviathan to do anything untoward.”

‘Untoward’ was a diplomatic term for kidnapping people to use as test subjects, but Alex understood why he was speaking obtusely. “Kern, could you excuse us for a moment? I’d like to speak with my father in private.”

“Of course, Alex.” James glanced curiously at the casual usage of his daughter’s name, and Kern’s sagging cheeks reddened. “Miss Brüding,” he said, bowing slightly. He stepped out into the front hallway, closing the door behind him as he left.

“I wish you wouldn’t tease him like that,” James said, cutting off a piece of steak. “He is a man of discipline and obedience. If you take that away, what will be left?”

Alex sighed. “You’re right. Servants are made to serve.”

“That isn’t what I meant at all. Kern wasn’t always a servant, but he has always had discipline in his life. He follows orders. I’ve ordered him to refer to us with respect, and he feels most comfortable when carrying out orders.” He paused to chew and swallow another mouthful. “Now, you wanted to talk to me about something?”