|
by Lena Diaz
Excerpt...
Evil, pure
and malevolent, sat in a chair two tables away sawing on a
rare New York Strip, blood oozing into a puddle on his
plate.
Madison Kendal shoved an unruly
curl out of her eyes and studied him, unable to suppress the shudder
of revulsion that rippled down her spine when his cold black eyes
met hers. She averted her gaze and looked down at her much more
affordable, and more well-done meal of chicken fingers and fries. As
hungry as she was, she couldn’t eat any more, not with the choking
malevolence that tightened her chest and coiled her stomach into a
knot.
To everyone else in one of
Savannah’s most popular River Street restaurants, the blonde man in
his Navy blue suit probably looked like a handsome, sophisticated
gentleman. Harmless.
She knew better.
Even though they’d never met, she
could read the blonde man’s emotions and desires with ease. Not that
she wanted to. Sometimes being an empath really sucked.
When he’d come into the restaurant
and sat down ten feet away from her, she’d been swamped with the
sense of evil he projected. She’d immediately thrown up a mental
shield, but instead of completely blocking his emotions, the shield
only dampened them. She was torn between the desire to flee the
choking dark cloud that surrounded him and the compelling,
overwhelming curiosity that kept her sitting in her seat pretending
to eat her meal.
The energies flowing off him were
so unique, so different than anything she’d experienced. If it
weren’t so absurd, she’d swear he wasn’t…human.
Shaking her head at her ridiculous
thoughts, she picked up a greasy fry and swirled it in her ketchup,
then glanced at the waitress who stopped next to her table and
placed a bottle of wine and a wine glass beside her plate.
“The gentleman over there,” the
waitress said, pointing toward the source of Madison’s discomfort,
“sent this wine. He asked me to tell you his name is Brutus and that
he would enjoy your company if you’d like to join him at his table.”
Join him? She felt her eyes widen
as she glanced at him, then her stomach coiled tighter and she
gagged, then coughed to hide her reaction.
From the bright red spots that
appeared on his cheeks she knew he’d caught her reaction and
understood the significance. She politely refused the wine and the
waitress took it back to his table. He stiffly nodded and gave her a
tight smile, a cruel tilt of his lips that had nothing to do with
amusement.
A wave of hot fury blasted her and
she reeled at the violence of his emotions. She desperately tried to
erect a stronger mental shield to block him out, but like an
insidious disease, the evil leaked around the edges, battering at
her defenses.
Curiosity turned to fear as she
struggled against the malevolence that was literally making her ill.
Clutching her roiling stomach, she looked toward the exit. Twenty
feet. Could she make it? Her legs were shaking so much she doubted
her ability to stand and the pounding pressure in her head was
nearly unbearable.
She had to leave. Now.
Clutching her frayed purse in one
hand she pressed her other hand against the table to use the
leverage to try to stand, but she paused when a movement caught her
attention. Brutus pushed back from his table and stood. He was much
taller and brawnier than she’d realized and she shrank back in her
chair, frozen in place by the raw evil that blanketed her as he
approached her table.
But instead of stopping, he headed out the door without once looking
in her direction. Through the plate glass windows at the front of
the restaurant she watched a black stretch limousine pull up to the
curb. The driver jumped out of the car and hurried to open the rear
door for Brutus.
When the car pulled away from the
curb, it was as if someone flipped a switch. The oppressive black
cloud of emotion dissipated and the pressure in Madison’s head
evaporated as if it had never existed.
Relief nearly swamped her as she
lifted a shaky hand to her hair and pushed it out of her face. She
took her cloth napkin and dampened it in her water glass then
pressed it to her forehead and cheeks, grateful the pounding
headache was gone and the tight pressure in her chest had eased.
“Ma’am, are you okay?”
Madison lifted the napkin off her
face. The waitress was bending over her table giving her a quizzical
look. “Are you okay? You’re really pale.”
“Yes, yes I’m fine now,” Madison
answered. “I had a headache, but,” she glanced toward the door to
assure herself that Brutus had really left, “it’s gone now. Thank
you.”
The waitress didn’t look like she
believed her but she accepted her explanation with a nod and pointed
at her half-eaten meal. “Are you finished with that?”
“Yes.” She should ask for a to-go
box. There was next to nothing to eat at her apartment, but just the
thought of looking at it again made her stomach protest. She doubted
she’d ever be able to step inside this restaurant again, not that
she should have in the first place. She certainly couldn’t afford
it, even the kid’s menu.
The waitress cleared her food and
left a bill. Madison reached into her purse and counted out the
exact amount of money necessary. Guilt gnawed at her as she debated
whether to leave a tip. A year ago she would have plopped down a
hundred dollar bill without a second thought. Today, every dollar
was precious but she recognized that worn-down bone weary look the
waitress wore when she cleared her table. Madison saw that same look
every night in the mirror before she went to bed.
Sighing, she reached into her purse
and pulled out her last beaded butterfly pin and placed it on top of
the red tablecloth. It wasn’t worth much, but it was pretty. Maybe
the waitress would find some joy out of it, wear it some time to a
party. It was the last piece of costume jewelry Madison had.
Everything of real value had been pawned one by one over the past
few months just so she could survive.
Butterflies had been her mother’s
favorite and she’d given Madison a butterfly pin on every single one
of her birthdays, including her last one, her thirtieth. She rubbed
her hand across the delicate wings, then closed her purse. The days
of money and luxuries were long gone. Holding on to any mementos
from that time was a waste of emotion. She should have gotten rid of
that butterfly pin long before now.
She stood, then paused as a ripple
of sensation coursed through her. For a brief moment, panic seized
her and she looked from table to table, afraid that Brutus had come
back, but she quickly discarded that thought. The emotions swamping
her now were nothing like what she’d felt earlier. Although
powerful, nearly overwhelming, there was no evil in them. Only heat,
and…pleasure.
Then she saw him, sitting in a
darkened corner of the restaurant. Although she couldn’t see his
eyes she knew, with absolute certainty, that he was watching her. He
slowly stood then wove his way through the maze of tables toward
her. His wavy blue-black hair brushed the collar of the long black
trench coat he wore in deference to the chilly October weather. The
coat was hanging open and revealed tight black leather pants and a
skin hugging black t-shirt beneath it.
A delicious heat rushed through her
veins and a ravenous hunger gnawed at her belly that had nothing to
do with food as he moved toward her with the strength and grace of a
wild panther, watching her intently as he approached her table.
Women turned to watch as he passed
but his gaze remained on Madison. When he was only a few feet away
he nodded, a barely perceptible movement of his head that conveyed
both approval and an acknowledgement of the heat that sizzled
between them.
Shaken at the raw power and appeal
in that one look and frightened by the intensity of the emotions he
was projecting toward her, not to mention her own equally intense
emotions, she turned and ran from the restaurant.
He didn’t try to stop her and she
wasn’t sure if she was disappointed or relieved.
After the craziness this evening,
she’d been too edgy, too nervous to walk home like she normally did
and her meager finances meant she couldn’t afford a cab.
Instead, she sweet talked a trolley
driver into letting her bum a free ride on the last leg of his tour
and now she was hurrying down the last few side streets in a hurry
to get to her apartment.
She still didn’t know what had
happened tonight. It was like her empathic abilities had short
circuited and gone totally out of her control. She didn’t trust
anything she was feeling and she’d thrown up her mental block just
to preserve what sanity she had left.
After a quick glance around to
assure herself no one was near her, she ducked into the alley that
ran behind the apartment building where she lived.
Her efficiency apartment was
nothing more than an in-law suite off one of the regular apartments.
The owner had walled in the door that connected it to the original
apartment, and created a new exterior entrance that opened into the
alley.
Madison thought the owner probably
intended her efficiency to house the apartment building manager, but
instead, the manager had allotted himself the largest apartment in
the building and had rented out the efficiency to her.
She didn’t mind. The rent was far
cheaper than anything else in the historic district and gave her
access to plenty of odd jobs, like running errands for bed and
breakfast owners on behalf of their clients, or weeding and caring
for the numerous courtyard gardens in the district. She even worked
in the cemeteries on occasion, picking up trash or pulling weeds,
whatever was needed.
As long as she didn’t mind getting
dirty, she could always find something to do for a few dollars. No
employment forms to fill out, no social security number to provide,
no paper trail for her enemies to trace back to her.
A quick glance around the alley
assured her she was alone, but it didn’t hurt to be careful so she
dug into the outside flap of her purse and pulled out her tiny can
of pepper spray. It had cost her four dollars and seventy-five
cents, an expense she could hardly afford but she had to have
something for protection. Guns scared her and at five foot one with
no formal self-defense training, her choices were limited to running
like hell, her personal favorite, and pepper spray.
Up ahead, her forest green door
with its peeling paint and bright brass deadbolt beckoned as never
before, filling her with anticipation instead of the usual
depression.
Passing her pepper spray to her
left hand, she grabbed her key out of her purse.
She cried out in surprise when
someone yanked her long curly hair then shoved her against the door,
pressing her right cheek painfully hard against the rough wood. She
bucked against the hand holding her and tried to press the release
on the pepper spray but her attacker twisted her left wrist behind
her, wrenching it up between her shoulder blades until she whimpered
from the pressure.
“Drop it or I’ll break your arm,
little darlin’.”
Her stomach jumped as she
recognized the same pervasive sense of evil she felt back at the
restaurant and knew her attacker was the blonde man, Brutus.
Obviously her attempts to erect a better mental block had succeeded
because she hadn’t sensed him at all until her fear brought the
barrier crashing down and the fog of evil engulfed her.
Before she could stop it another
whimper escaped between her clenched teeth.
He shoved her arm higher until she
thought it would pop out of its socket and she cried out, dropping
the pepper spray from her numbed fingers.
Immediately the pressure on her arm
eased. “That’s a good girl. Now why don’t we open this door and get
you inside out of the cold air. Brutus will warm you up real good,
from the inside out.” He chuckled.
She wiggled against his hold and
kicked out with her left foot, pleased when her sneaker made solid
contact with his shin. “Shit,” he gritted out, then hauled her
roughly against him, his left arm wrapped around her waist and his
right one twisted in her hair so that her head was forced backward.
“Try that again and I’ll gut you like a fish. Did you think you
could treat me like some commoner and get away with it? Now open the
damn door or I’ll take you right here.”
Commoner? What century did he live
in? The sickeningly sweet smell of wine on his breath suddenly
assailed her and made her gag.
Brutus shook her like a ragdoll.
“Open the door. Now.”
He shoved her forward and she fell
against the door, banging her chin and snapping her teeth together
on her tongue. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth and
before she could take advantage of her moment of freedom he grabbed
a fistful of her hair, letting her know she was still at his mercy.
He was too strong and she didn’t doubt for a second he could and
would hurt her if she didn’t do what he said.
She wasn’t a fool either. She knew
he would try to hurt her once they were inside, but it was her
territory. She knew where everything was. Somehow she would protect
herself. She had to. There was no other choice because even if she
could stand the feel of his body on hers, she wasn’t sure her mind
could withstand the proximity of all that evil. Even now, it was
swamping her senses, making her weak with fear.
Her hands shaking, she fumbled with
the key, struggling to fit it into the lock. Brutus finally grabbed
the key from her and unlocked the door himself. Then he twisted the
doorknob, pushed open the door and used the hand in her hair to
shove her inside.
She stumbled and fell to her knees,
sliding across the cheap, low-pile carpet. Clenching her teeth
against the pain as the sandpapery rug burned her skin through a
hole in her worn out jeans, she scrambled to her feet and ran toward
the right corner of the apartment, the tiny alcove she called a
kitchen.
In the darkness, she hoped she
could get a knife before his eyes adjusted and he realized what she
was doing. He was enormous but with luck and surprise on her side,
maybe she’d be able to wound him enough to give her a head start.
She was a fast runner. His legs were much longer than hers, but he
was far heavier and that would slow him down.
The only light in the tiny
apartment blinked to life as Brutus found the wall switch. She heard
the door slam shut and she frantically clawed at a drawer. She
yanked it open then fumbled inside for a knife.
Her shaking fingers wrapped around
the wooden handle and she lifted it up, then whirled around to face
her attacker.
He wasn’t there.
Instead, he was lying face down,
unconscious, on the oatmeal colored carpet just inside the door. The
dark haired man she’d run from back at the restaurant was standing
over Brutus. He stared at her as his hand caressed the hilt of a
lethal looking sword.
|
