Touched by Darkness (15 page)

they'll never even know it was my handiwork.

I can hardly wait for the rush of the kill. As always.

Belial provides for my needs. Glory to Belial, to the

blood, and to the undefeatable power of the

darkness.

Kara and Damien talked on the front porch because

she didn't want Alex overhearing their

conversation. However, he was anxious about being

in the house alone, so they brought Max inside.

Damien assured Alex that Max would know and

react immediately if any ghosts entered the house.

Kara raised the blinds on the picture window and

turned on the porch light, so Alex could keep them

in sight.

She donned a warm jacket, ensuring Damien

wouldn't have to offer his duster again—and she

wouldn't be subjected to its alluring warmth and

male scent. She sank onto the wooden glider,

waited for him to join her.

"Do you really think that thing won't come back?"

she asked.

"I can't make any guarantees. If it's drawn to Alex

and is trying to tell him something, it could return

any time."

"Is there anything you can do to keep it away? Put

some protective energy around the house or

something?"

"I'm a Sentinel, not an exorcist. I don't go around

chasing away ghosts."

"I'm wondering now if it was a good idea for you to

work with Alex. If you hadn't told him he was a

Sentinel and had powers, maybe he wouldn't have

experimented with them."

Damien's mouth thinned and his gaze bore into

hers. "Wrong. He was bound to use his powers

eventually, which could attract any number of

entities. And there is a Belian in Zorro, whether or

not you admit it. Sooner or later it will pick up on

Alex. It's time to acknowledge the reality of the

situation and deal with it."

The truth of his words deflated her protests, like the

air leaving an inner tube. He was right.

"You don't have any choice in the matter, not with

Alex's powers developing so rapidly," he added

quietly.

"I don't understand how this happened. Alex

promised me he wouldn't do anything with his

mind."

"I'm sure he meant it. He appears to be a fine boy.

But how can he control something if he doesn't

even know what it is, or how it works?" Damien

leaned closer, his gaze intent. "Knowledge is

power. The more Alex knows about his abilities,

the more he can control them. The better he can

protect
himself. That's why every young Sentinel is

assigned a mentor if his or her parents are— If a

Sentinel parent isn't raising the child."

She was certain he had started to say if the Sentinel

parent or parents were dead, a strong possibility, as

she well knew. Chilled, she pulled her knees up and

huddled into her legs.

"I need to work with Alex on using his powers,"

Damien said. "So he can learn how to properly

control them and protect himself from Belians and

discarnate entities."

She could see his point all too clearly, and she

hated it. But denying the reality could only put

Alex in danger. "All right," she said tiredly. "But

only for control and protection—no tracking

energies. I still want to be present whenever you're

with Alex."

"There's one more thing we need to do."

Anticipating him, she was already shaking her

head. "No."

He grasped her shoulders and turned her toward

him, his gaze boring through her eyes and into her

soul. "Yes, Kara.
Yes.
You've got to conduct for me.

It's my best chance of catching this Belian and

keeping it from sensing Alex."

Fear for Alex, and pain from the past, rushed over

her. She was torn between a mother's fierce need to

protect her child, and the preservation of her soul.

She wanted Alex safe more than anything, but how

could she take care of him, be there to protect him,

if she was mentally and spiritually devastated?

Conducting for Damien would take her back down

the path that had almost destroyed her seven years

ago.

She stared at him, paralyzed by the past. "I can't do

it," she whispered. "I just can't. There has to be

another way to protect Alex."

He shook his head with a frustrated growl, released

her. "All right, then. We'll concentrate on Alex. For

now. But the time will come, Kara, when you won't

have any choice in the matter."

She knew he was right—her reprieve from the

terror of Birmingham was just temporary. But as

long as Alex wasn't in the direct path of the Belian,

she simply didn't have the courage to face the past

yet.

Not that her cowardice changed anything. With

Alex's growing powers, they were moving closer to

a Sentinel's existence. And she could only watch

helplessly as their lives were irrevocably altered.

#

The dreams returned that night.

The surreal feel of being suspended out of body

permeated Kara, and she knew on some deep

instinctive level—as she always did, even while

asleep—that this was a precognitive vision in the

form of a dream.
No!
her mind screamed. She

thrashed and tried to break the bubble of the dream.

Tried desperately to force herself to consciousness.

Her efforts were futile—as they had always been.

Trapped within the vision, she could see everything

happening in crystal-clear real time, as if she were

watching a movie, only she was drawn into the

action.

A person was moving down a dark hallway that

looked vaguely familiar. Kara followed behind,

unable to see the person's face. The bulky overcoat

and dark pants and outline of some sort of cap on

the head gave the person a masculine look, so she

assumed it was a man she followed.

He radiated malevolence; a black, terrifyingly

familiar aura surrounded him. Kara had seen

auras like that on several occasions, when she had

been conducting for Richard. This man
—
this

monster
—
was a Belian. She wanted to turn and

run, to escape this essence of pure evil, but she was

under the dictates of the dream. She could only

follow; would be an observer no matter how much

she resisted.

His feet, encased in boots, made no sound on the

lush carpet. He reached an open doorway, paused,

listened. She listened, too, heard the sound of

steady breathing. Someone sleeping, so it must be a

bedroom. He entered, and she followed. A night

light was plugged into the right wall, sending a low

glow over the furniture and a figure in the bed.

She didn't recognize the room. The man moved to

the figure in the bed. A woman with light-toned

hair lay there, facing the opposite wall, her

features hidden.

Familiarity stirred, yet Kara couldn't place the

woman. The man turned slightly, and she saw he

wore a baseball cap, pulled down low over his

face. She could see only his silhouette in the dim

lighting, couldn't identify him.

"Who are you?" she asked, horror crawling

through her. He might have a human body and a

human name, might be someone she knew. But he

was really the Devil incarnate. "What are you

doing here?"

Ignoring her, he reached into the pocket of his coat

with a hand encased in a flexible black leather

glove, and drew out two objects. He deftly popped

something off one object, then held up a small

bottle, and placed the object against one end. Kara

realized it was a syringe and some sort of drug he

held. Dread pounded with every beat of her racing

heart.

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

He leaned over the sleeping woman, pushed up the

sleeve of her gown. The material was a light-

colored background, Kara noticed absurdly,

covered with little cup-and-saucer motifs. The man

placed the hypodermic against the woman's upper

arm.

"Stop!" Kara ordered sharply, panicked. "You have

no right to do this!" But she was frozen in place,

unable to move or impede his actions in any way.

Giving no response, the man injected the woman's

arm. Oh God, oh God, oh God, don't let this

happen, Kara implored as she watched, impotent in

the throes of the vision. She knew, with every fiber

of her being, that she was witnessing an atrocious

act. And she could do nothing, nothing...

Gasping for breath, Kara surged upright in bed. Her

heart was pounding. She shook uncontrollably. Still

unable to catch her breath, she looked around

wildly. She was in her own bed, in her own room.

Alex, too frightened to sleep alone, was sprawled

next to her, his covers kicked off. Numbly, she

covered her son, then curled around him, trying to

console herself with his warmth and life energy. He

didn't stir.

She prayed fervently to an ambiguous, distant God,

asking for protection against the evil forces

epitomized by the man in her vision. She prayed for

the soul of the woman in the vision, knowing that

soul was likely now winging its way from the Earth

plane. She hadn't been able to see the woman's

face, had no idea who had just been the latest

victim of a Belian. Just as bad, she didn't have a

clue on the identity of the Belian.

Basically, her vision was worthless—although she

had no doubt of its accuracy. Despite her adherence

to scientific data and logical explanations, her

dream visions had always been eerily prophetic.

This was just another horrific experience to add to

those of the past few days.

She cursed the return of her psychic dreams, cursed

Damien Morgan's appearance, which had probably

been the impetus for shaking loose her carefully

buried psychic abilities. And she mourned the loss

of the life she had so carefully built for Alex and

herself over the past six years.

More than ever, she felt she was barely balanced on

the edge, and the slightest push would send her into

the abyss.

#

It had been years since she'd had a psychic

experience, but she hadn't forgotten the physical

aftermath, the nausea and nagging headache

reminiscent of a hangover. But that wasn't the

reason Kara moved through the next day with a

sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

She couldn't stop thinking about the woman in her

dream, kept steeling herself to hear about another

death. It crossed her mind to call Damien, but she

shrugged the thought away. There was nothing he

could do now, and she was determined to keep her

contact with him to a minimum. They had agreed

he would come over two nights a week to work

with Alex, but that would be the extent of her

cooperation.

"Dr. Kara?" said a soft voice, breaking into her

thoughts. "Are you okay?"

Kara forced her focus back to the present, and

managed to smile at Sara Thornton. "I'm fine, Sara.

Sorry, but I was just... thinking about Alex."

Sara, a short, thin woman with a heart-shaped face

and straight dark brown hair stared back at Kara.

Her thick bangs emphasized her large brown eyes

—and the circles beneath them. Kara had smelled

alcohol on her when she came in with her two

children, and her heart ached for the family. She

knew they were struggling to survive after David's

death.

"Well," she said briskly, lifting ten-year-old Julie

down from the exam table. "I'm pretty sure both

Julie and Michael have strep." She picked up the

two cotton swabs lying on the stainless tray. "I'll

run the test, but I expect it to be positive."

Seven-year-old Michael scrunched up his face.

"Ah, bubble gum medicine
again?"

"What, you don't like it?" Kara teased. "Would you