The Lost Soul Trilogy (Primani Book 5) (44 page)

Kissing the tears off of my cheeks, he whispered, “Baby, don’t cry for me.” He kissed my bruised lips with some force then. He ran a fingertip over the rune on my chest. “You’re never far away from me.”

The altar was still smoking with the remains of the fire. While I watched, Killian opened a small brown satchel and placed several items from the tiny storage box under the altar. He was bringing out the instruments he used for the ancient ceremonies. This place didn’t feel secure anymore, and he didn’t want to risk anything else getting stolen. I recognized the ruby-handled knife, but he also added the bronze cup and a couple of other knives and a small leather-bound book. It had been hidden apart from the other items. With a last look around, he declared it was time to go. We stepped outside the ruin and he stopped me with a hand on my arm.

“One last thing before we go.” He started to say something else and I interrupted him.

“Killian, please, don’t do this! I want these memories. I feel like this will be all I have left someday. I need to remember you…here…when you’re gone.”

His expression was sympathetic, but he refused to listen to my argument. “It’s for the best. Trust me.”

“But it’s not fair! I don’t think it’s for the best. Best for who? Me? Or you?”

“Listen to me! Nothing can come from this night. You and I both know that. I warned you the magic is strong here--It’s my fault it happened and I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you.”

He’s sorry? Did this mean nothing to him then? I loved him in ways I would never love Sean and that sucked. Sean deserved more from me. And I deserved more from Killian. With eyes shooting daggers at him, I told him to get on with the memory snatching.

“And be sure to get rid of any lingering feelings I have for you. We wouldn’t want them to get in the way.”

He actually flinched away from me as if I’d slapped him. “Mica, please. Don’t be this way. You have to understand,” he implored. I was done talking. Resigned, he placed his hands on either side of my face and proceeded to wipe out my memory.

“Why is she covered in blood?” Sean was not especially happy to see us when we appeared suddenly in the farmhouse. “Every time you leave with her, you bring her back bloody. I thought you liked her?”

Killian reddened slightly and said, “Sorry, I forgot about that. She’s not hurt. It’s mine.”

Sean’s eyes narrowed even more at that. “Okay, that begs the question of why she’s covered in
your
blood. Did you roll around on her or what?”

Good question. How did I get covered in his blood?

“There was a bad storm, and I grabbed ahold of her to keep her from falling. It’s nothing to worry about. It’ll wash off.”

That sounded right. I remembered a big storm and the wind blowing me around. I needed a shower. As much as I liked adventure, I didn’t appreciate wearing Killian’s blood. It was gross. I didn’t even like him that much. I headed off to the shower without another word. Sean was waiting for me when I came out of the bathroom. He eyed me with appreciation as I dug out clothes to put on. Since it was actually morning, I asked him what was on the agenda for today. We still needed to stop this serial killer.

“Get dressed and we’ll slip by his house.” He reached out and tugged my hand. I curled up against him and finished pulling on socks. He waited until I was done and turned into me for a kiss. “I have the sexiest partner ever. It’s a wonder I can focus at all.” He helped me up and laughed at my pout.

“Later! Let’s get out of here.”

“Do you think I can drive this thing?” I asked as he shifted gears and pulled out of the driveway.

Glancing over at me, he said, “Sure. It’s not hard. Do you want to practice now?”

He drove a few miles towards town and pulled over into the half-empty parking lot of the electric company. Shifting into first gear, he turned off the engine and handed me the keys. He unfolded himself from the driver’s seat and walked around to my door.

“Come on, you have to get out before you can drive it.” He held the door open and waved me out.

“Okay, if you say so. I’ll try it.” I slipped into the driver’s seat and wiggled around in the seat. I adjusted it so I could see over the dash but it still felt odd. I was too short for this car. The hood stretched out for a mile and messed with my depth perception. Totally not sure about this, I turned the key and started the motor.

Patiently, he said, “Take your foot off the clutch at the same time you push down on the gas. Do it smoothly so you don’t stall the car.”

I followed his directions and stalled out the car…several times. Every time it stalled, Sean’s lips clamped a little tighter until finally, after the fourth or fifth time, he snorted impatiently and gestured at me to get out.

“What?”

“Out! We don’t have all day.” Again with the hand gestures!

“Are you serious? I thought you were supposed to have unlimited patience!”

Rolling his eyes, he asked, “Seriously? How long have you known me? When have I ever been patient?”

“But you’re an angel! Isn’t infinite patience one of those holy traits you all have?

Now he snorted
and
rolled his eyes. “Where do you get these ideas? I thought we covered the wings and harp crap already?”

With very bad grace, I shoved it into first and stalled it on purpose. The engine died with a relieved groan. It was glad to see me go…

After 15 minutes of practice, I was back in the passenger seat. Sean apologized to the car as he started its engine again. Seeming to understand its master was back, it purred to life under his hand and roared through the winding turns on the way into town. In just a few minutes, we pulled up across the street from Scott’s apartment. He lived in one of the dumpy places near the lake. It wasn’t the best part of town; these roach motels were run-down but very cheap. It was rumored there were a lot of drugs to be had in a few of them. Was Scott on drugs? That could explain things. Though I secretly thought he was crazy enough without any pharmaceutical assistance.

He lived in a side apartment that we couldn’t see from the street. Since Sean was memorable no matter what he was wearing, I volunteered to walk around to see if he was home. I pulled my army green hood up and slipped on a pair of wire-framed glasses. With my hair covered and the glasses in place, I looked different enough that I thought Scott wouldn’t recognize me. I was wearing oversized grungy jeans with torn out pockets and scuffed combat boots. I was going for the broke-ass-crackhead look and thought I’d done a good job with my disguise.

Sean wasn’t thrilled with my plan, but the mission came first. “Okay, just go see if his truck is there and come back.”

I walked with my head bent against the wind coming off the lake. It was pretty cold today, so it was natural to slouch into my jacket and keep my head down. I turned the corner and left Sean behind. Looking for the truck, I walked through the parking lot as if I belonged here. No red pickup truck. I took shelter under an overhang and lit a cigarette. Trying not to inhale, I lounged dejectedly for a few minutes.  Scott lived in apartment 32A. It was two doors down from where I was loitering. Hmm.

Five minutes later, I knocked on the door and nobody was home. Probably he didn’t have an alarm system either. Carefully, I turned the door knob and the door opened. Huh. Unlocked? This didn’t seem too smart. Who leaves their doors unlocked around here? Someone with nothing to lose or in a hurry to leave. I pushed the door open and poked my head in. It seemed empty enough. I shut the door and pulled out my Sig. The apartment only had two rooms. It couldn’t hurt to look around. I didn’t see anything serial killer-ish in the living room. There was a couch and a beaten up wooden coffee table. That was it. The kitchen was mostly empty. There were a few bags of ramen noodles in a cabinet and a few bottles of beer in the fridge. The sink was filled with dirty dishes and a smelly orange dishcloth was thrown over the faucet. It stank like rotten trash in here.

I tried not to inhale…

Sean will kill me if I get caught in here. I need to move faster…With this in mind, I lifted the gun and pushed open the bedroom door. The bedroom had a single mattress on the floor and a couple of plastic laundry baskets. An upside-down box pretended to be a table by the bed. There was a clock and an ashtray sitting on it. I moved into the bathroom and nearly dropped my gun. The bathroom itself was a disgusting mess, but the thing that caught my attention was the curled picture of me stuck to the side of the bathroom mirror.

With scattering nerves, I looked closer at it. It had been taken at the beach a couple of summers ago. Whoever had taken the picture had been close enough to zoom in on my face. I was laughing up at someone above me, but that person’s face was cut out of the picture. Ragged edges suggested it was torn not cut. My bathing suit straps were just visible at the lowest edge of the image.  This was not good. Nervous now, I glanced around the rest of the room and saw some stains on the floor. Crouching to avoid touching the dirty tile, I peered closer at the rusty stains. Rust? Blood? Hard to say without my trusty CSI tool kit. Improvising, I crumpled a wodge of toilet paper, wet it, and rubbed at the spot on the tile. It was the best I could do at the moment. I shoved it into my jacket pocket and took a picture of the mirror and tile with my phone. I was about to leave when something told me to open the vanity doors so I hesitated.

The scratched wooden doors called to me.

For one second I seriously thought about ignoring the feeling. I was starting to hate that annoying prickling feeling…It usually meant something bad and I wasn’t sure if I could deal with more bad right now.

Sighing with resignation, I yanked open the door, and the rusty smell of old blood rushed out. Smashing a hand over my nose, I flinched back in surprise.

Oh now that’s just gross was my first thought.

My second was I had to get the hell out of there--now!

I yanked open the car door and threw myself inside. “Go, go, go!” Taking gulping breaths of fresh air, I tried to settle my adrenaline buzz.

Without asking questions, Sean drove smoothly, but quickly, away and after a block glanced sideways at me. “What did
you do?”

“Oh my God, Sean! It’s him! He’s got a picture of me in his bathroom, and I think he cut Stefan out of it…shit! Does anyone know if Stefan is still alive? And there’s blood on the floor, and there’s a bloody hunting knife under his sink.” I blurted this out in a rush of exhaled air.

His eyebrows met his hairline. He started to say something but then stopped. Instead, he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and slammed the Camaro into another gear. I could hear his teeth grinding together.

“You were
supposed
to be in the parking lot. How the hell did you get inside the apartment? Do you have a death wish?” The last question came out as a shout.

We were out of the city now, the last of the houses fading from view. He slammed the car into another gear and it shot forward like a rocket. My head bounced off the head rest, sending bright lights ricocheting behind my eyes.

“Killing me with whiplash isn’t going to help!” I said sourly.

Instead of answering, he glared at me and slammed the car into Park in the driveway. Throwing his door closed, he left me standing there and stalked inside. Well, hell. I guess he’s mad. Geez. It’s not like I
want
to die! These things just happen to me….He was still fuming when I walked in. I guess he’ll need more than 30 seconds to get over this. Sighing over his temper, I ignored him and went to the kitchen for a drink. Dec and Killian were both gone, so it was just the two of us. I chugged some water and steeled myself for the wrath of the boyfiend…er, uh, boyfriend. Deep inside, I knew he had a right to be mad, I was reckless. I couldn’t play the victim here. Gritting my own teeth together, I went to face the music.

He was sitting on the couch pushing buttons on the stereo remote. He set it down and the distinctive opening guitar of Soundgarten’s “Rusty Cage” blared out of the Bose speakers. I swallowed a smile because I knew that he picked his music based on his mood just like I did. It was one of the things we had in common, and it tied us together. Music was powerful in its own right, but when it reflected your mood and spoke to your heart, it could be therapeutic and downright empowering. I leaned against the doorway and listened to the music watching his face all the while. He tried to stay mad and stubbornly refused to look at me at first. But by the middle of the song, I noticed his lips twitching just a little. By the end of the song, he finally looked at me and patted the couch in invitation.

I raised my eyebrows in question and he smiled a real smile at me. “You may as well sit down. I can’t be mad all night. We have work to do.”

Sitting cross-legged across from him on the other end of the couch, I shared the details of my trip through Scott’s wonderland. He asked to look at my phone, and I showed him the pictures.

“It’s just creepy! What is he doing with that picture?”

“My first guess is he still has a thing for you. Really, who wouldn’t? And my second is he’s using it to fuel his anger before he kills.”

I hadn’t expected that answer, and my mouth dropped open in surprise. “What about the blood?” I pulled the wad of bloody toilet paper out of my pocket.