(Psychic Visions 01) Tuesday's Child (23 page)

The city morgue offered a second possible victim. This one had little to no paperwork at this point, as she'd just been brought in and would still need to be autopsied for cause of death. He asked to be notified as soon as they knew anything.

Brandt frowned. Thanks to Sam, he had a very good idea of a time frame. Sam. He had trouble explaining his interest. She pulled at his heart, his mind, his emotions. He felt a dull pain in areas he didn't know existed. She made him ache for better times, for happiness, for a life filled with joy.

Spending time with her was like a drug. He liked the effect while under, and hated the sensation when it wore off. After his head cleared, he wondered why the hell he kept going back. Except he knew. He'd been intrigued since the beginning. Sex had never been his goal. He'd long since outgrown his adolescent hormones. He certainly wasn't searching for a mate to have the little white house with a picket fence and the customary two-and-a-half kids like so many of his friends.

When attraction slapped him up the side of the head, normally he ran with it. This time, the way forward held a few roadblocks. Still, he didn't think they'd stop him.

Sitting at his computer, Brandt checked his watch. He had a few minutes before his five o'clock appointment at the university.

5: 25 pm

The sun dipped behind the mountain, casting golden beams rippling across the lake. Sam tilted her head sideways, wincing as the pounding inside her head increased. The sun's rays twinkled and disappeared under the water. Mother Nature had outdone herself. Exhausted, she lay in numbed limbo. The sun warmed her jean-clad legs. She was still dressed in jeans and t-shirt because she hadn't had enough energy to go for a swim this afternoon.

For someone who preferred her own company, she'd been overwhelmed by people, recently. She had to watch out and keep centered.

Animals offered a respite for her senses. They exuded calm, peaceful energy waves.

People, on the other hand, lived on emotion. They constantly projected erratic bursts of painful energy. The larger bursts from strong emotions hurt her the most. Happier, lighter emotions were easier to tolerate. But when people were angry or upset, overwhelmed in grief or even sometimes when they were ecstatic, they exploded with energy. For Sam, these waves became almost solid walls pounding against her.

Everything impacted much more when she was tired. At those times, on top of lowering her defenses, her own talents increased because her ability to keep them shut down was weaker. Her energy both bled outward and sponged inward.

Working at the vet hospital had allowed her to make gains on her protective shields – in part, due to the animals and their energy. Stefan had given her hints on how to release the energy afterward. She should be euphoric at what she'd accomplished, instead she was too exhausted to feel anything except the headache clawing the inside of her head.

Today had been a tough day. It had taken everything she had to feed her dogs once she arrived home. She'd grabbed a chunk of cheese and an apple and walked to the dock. She'd actually slept in the warm sun after consuming that little bit of food.

A vehicle growl filtered down the hill. Moses raised his head, not growling, yet not totally at ease.

Sam tensed.

In the same half-aware state, she watched as Brandt's truck drove into view. Her heart leaped. She'd forgotten. He was supposed to pick up something and bring it down for dinner.

Sam rolled over to lean on her elbow. Blood pounded in her temple making her grimace. She closed her eyes halfway against the pain. Headaches were the bane of her health problems though she'd never seen a doctor about them. Her lips twitched, imagining trying to explain her problem to a local MD. She'd be referred to a shrink immediately.

Groaning as she stood up, Sam had to stop and breathe deeply as the hammer in her head was put down and a sledgehammer took over. "Oh God," she whispered to the empty air. "I so don't need this right now."

Walking very slowly, Sam made her way up to the cabin.

"Good evening." Brandt walked toward her with a large brown bag.

Sam nodded and immediately wished she hadn't as pain stabbed her right temple. Chinese food? Her stomach gurgled. The apple and cheese hadn't gone far and the food smelled delicious. Now if only the pain would go away.

"Are you alright?"

A wan smile slipped out. "Just a headache. I'll be fine." She eyed the bag he carried. "Is that Chinese food I'm smelling?"

Brandt eyes narrowed as he searched her face. "I found a new restaurant to try. Let's go inside where you can sit down. I'll find some plates and serve." As they walked into the house, he added, "I also have a few pictures to show you."

Interest flared briefly before being pounded down. Sam navigated the stairs and led the way inside. As much as she hated to, she took a painkiller for the headache before collapsing on the couch. She let Brandt deal with the food.

She closed her eyes. Paper rustled, china clanged, and the aroma made her stomach sing. She hoped he picked up her favorite dish – Chicken Chow Mein.

"Sam, sit up and eat. You'll feel better."

She opened her eyes to see Brandt holding out a plateful. She placed it on the table between the two couches. Brandt sat opposite her. He'd heaped her plate high with saucy noodles, chicken, and lovely crisp vegetables. She'd be lucky to eat half of it. The hot steam wafted toward her, both soothing and comforting. She took several bites and moaned with pleasure.

"I love Chinese food. Thank you for this."

He smiled and kept a steady eye on her. "You're welcome." After another quiet moment with only the sounds of food being enjoyed, he asked another question. "Are you sure you're okay? You look a little pale."

Sam nodded gently, her mouth too full to speak. "Yes, sometimes I get these bad headaches." He'd been right, she was feeling slightly better. The headache, although not gone, had receded slightly. To change the subject, she nodded to several pictures upside down on the table. "What are those?"

He flipped the pictures over and spread them out.

Four different pictures of snake and leaf designs lay in front of her. Interesting. She leaned forward to study them.

After a few minutes, Brandt shifted his position. "Well?"

"Hmmm."

"What does that mean?"

Sam looked up at him. "It means they're close, just not the same as the one I saw."

"How can you tell?" Brandt leaned forward pushing the papers closer. "They're all so similar."

She took another bite of noodles.

"Similar but not the same. In the left one, the snake wraps around the outside of a leaf, not a cloverleaf. In the right one, you can't tell if it's a snake or a rope or something similar."

Brandt, shaking his head, collected the pictures together.

At her nod, he stacked the pictures into a pile. "Have you had any more visions or seen anything else?"

"No, nothing yet."

They continued to eat in contemplative silence for a few more minutes. The corners of Sam's mouth slid downward and her eyes closed. God, she was tired. She put down her half-full plate.

"Are you sure you can't eat a little more?"

She shook her head without opening her eyes. "Sorry, it's my headache. Let me just close my eyes for a few minutes."

"No problem. Lie down and rest. I'll clean up."

Sam was past arguing. With a warm full tummy, fatigue drew her in, and she slept.

10:05 pm

W
ith the dishes washed, Brandt sat on the couch opposite Sam. Now what? Should he leave her alone to sleep? Odd to be so unsure. Staring at her, he had to admit, the idea of staying and watching over her was winning. He glanced at the pile of blankets on the floor. Picking one up, he opened it and covered Sam.

There was something wild about her. Not necessarily in a good way. Maybe untamed was a better description. She appeared awkward in crowds, uneasy in close confines, and hated confrontations – she wouldn't walk away from a fight if she thought it mattered. She could hold her own.

She was trying to improve her life now, but what had brought her so low? Had it been the last incident with the deputy? He frowned. Had that car accident long ago wiped out her savings or had she been unable to work afterwards because of her injuries? He surveyed the small room. He doubted she'd had insurance. There was no sign of money here. In fact, poverty had moved right in. She dressed in oversized thrift store clothes that would fit any large man.

She needed a keeper. Someone to make sure she ate and rested. If there was no one else, then maybe, just maybe the job fell to him. That he'd even had that thought showed how far he'd come. A few weeks ago, he'd have run at the thought of caring for someone like her. This was stupid. He needed a decent night's sleep himself. He should be home in his own bed, not here keeping an eye on her. Still, it was early yet, and she'd looked wiped when he'd arrived. Staying awhile wouldn't be a hardship.

Moses slept on the floor in front of Sam and Soldier sat on guard at the end of the other couch – watching him.

Brandt peered into the blackness outside the window. Moments later he closed his eyes, too tired himself to muddle through the confusing array of reasons for staying there.

An odd muffled noise woke him.

Brandt turned his head, groaning as pain exploded through his neck. "God, what did I do?" Rolling his head from side to side, he leaned forward, trying to remember where he was. A muffled cry from the couch had him bolting upright, now wide-awake.

Sam jerked her legs out straight and arched her back. Her mouth opened, the muscles on her face and neck clenched into long cords, straining with effort. She screamed – silently.

The hairs on Brandt's neck stood straight up.

Sam jerked, her back bowed even tighter.

Brandt reached out to wake her from the nightmare, then hesitated, his hands inches from her shoulder. How many times had Stefan told him not to touch someone in a trance? But how did he know whether she was in a trance or a nightmare?

Sam collapsed, her legs sprawling at awkward angels. Her breathing stabilized, returning to a more even pace, slowly picking up a normal rhythm again.

Just when he thought she was fine, Sam's face twisted, her eyes opened wide with an opaque glassy look. Brandt bent over and stared directly into her eyes.

"Sam," he whispered. "Sam, wake up."

Sam arched again, then jerked spasmodically as if struck by invisible blows.

Jesus. Brandt backed up a step and stared at her. Ice raced through his body. What the hell was going on? He searched her face, watching every nuance, every tiny expression – it was easy to see she wasn't really here. She was seeing something, experiencing something that Brandt couldn't. Brandt had never seen any nightmare like this one. He wasn't sure he'd ever want to, either.

He glanced at his watch. 2:30 am. He must have fallen asleep. He could have sworn he'd been out for only a couple of minutes.

Sam made a gurgling sound, arched once, then twice before collapsing into a shuddering tremble. Then she fell silent. Brandt stared in horror. Cuts appeared in the blanket. He reached out, the raspy wool scratched his fingers. When he'd covered her up, the blanket had been tatty but whole. He couldn't see it completely from the awkward way it lay over her, but he could see several slices in the thick fabric.

His jaw dropped. More cuts appeared even as he watched. He leaned forward, shock making his hands tremble. This could not be happening. This was not possible. His rational mind knew that, yet his eyes wouldn't stop receiving the images. There, another cut over her abdomen appeared. No way. He leaned closer and sat again as bile rose up into his throat.

Blood seeped slowly from the last cut. Impossible. Brandt sat in horror as blood slowly oozed from the dozen cuts, soaking the blanket covering Sam. Was she hurt? She couldn't be – the cuts had just appeared. Only there was nothing there that had caused the injuries.

Soldier arrived at the couch, a high whine sounding from deep inside him.

"Easy boy. I don't know what's going on either."

Brandt studied his hands, not surprised to see them shaking, shudders even now moving up his arms. Christ, no one would believe this. Hell, he could hardly believe it himself – and it was happening right before his eyes.

His gaze dropped to a second blanket on the floor. Reaching down, he shook the folds loose and went to fling it across her form, when Stefan's warning drilled through her.
Never touch a medium when they are in a trance.

The blanket dropped to the floor. He didn't know if a blanket counted as a touch and decided he didn't dare take the chance. A sudden thought jolted him. No one would believe him, just like no one believed Sam. Oh God. His stomach knotted and bile seared his throat, threatening to make him sick. Is this how she felt?