Black Aura (3 page)

She smiled and he blinked.

“Sorry, I’m staring aren’t I?” he asked, shifting to lean back and sip his little cup of espresso. Biscotti lay to the side on a little blue pottery plate.

She tapped a nail on the side of her café mocha. “Yes.”

“Sorry,” he said again, the edges of his eyes crinkling.

“It’s okay. I’d let you know if I thought it was creepy.”

One brow arched. “And it isn’t?”

Lake sighed and let the wrap slide down to her elbows. “I know creepy.” At least she thought she did. “No, it’s more like…” She thought about her words. “It’s more like you’re trying to figure out which colors to use on a canvas, or what medium you’d like to use.”

The right corner of his mouth edged up. “Then, can I stop worrying about how to ask you if you’d like to model for me?”

It was her turn to grin and lean up on the table. “You want me to model for you?”

He leaned up as well, those intense eyes scanning her face before they met hers straight on, heat in their depths. “In this day and age, most women are too skinny, or let themselves go too much. Around here in Taos, you’ve got tourists, the local health freaks, and those who don’t care. There are few who fit the balance perfectly.”

She moved her hand closer to his on the table. “Balance. You’re a Libra.”

“I’m that easy?”

She laughed and shook her head. “Easy? If you were easy, Max, I’d have asked you out weeks and weeks ago, instead of stressing about it.”

“Yeah, well, I like balance. I don’t do chaos very well, but perfect order drives me nuts.”

“Me, too.”

“You a Libra as well?”

She tilted her head. “We’ll wait on me. So you want me to model for you?”

“Ohhh yeah,” he drew out.

“Why?”

“You remind me of a goddess.”

She gave him a long blink. Something must be wrong with this guy. A goddess? There was a line she hadn’t heard before. For a moment words failed her.

“Goddess? I’m no goddess.” Then she smiled. A goddess. Butterflies danced in her stomach. She wasn’t that easy, was she? Touching his hand with hers, she again felt that charged hum between them. Not a bright burst of energy like she’d had with others—like heated passion that could quickly burn out. Nor the electric bolt of pure sex and just sex. This was different.

With Max, all those charges were there, but not. It was as if those feelings were there, but all rolled together so that the hum was a twisted, intertwined cable, coating and protecting the current. She’d never experienced this before and she was honest enough to know she wanted to feel more.

“You’re different,” she whispered.

His brows wiggled and he smiled, a wicked smile that left her wondering what he was thinking.

For a moment they only stared at each other.

“So are you,” he answered, his voice low and caressing. He broke eye contact and glanced at their coffees sitting between them. “This has been fun, but I’m hungry. You want to go eat?”

That was such a loaded question, but she let it go. The twinkle in his eyes said he heard her thoughts.

“You like spice?” he asked, leaning even closer towards her.

Her gaze dropped from his eyes to his lips. What would they feel like on her? She’d bet he knew how to use his mouth. “I uh…” She frowned. “Spice? As in ‘and everything nice’?”

“I sincerely hope not.”

“Yeah, same here.”

That corner of his mouth edged sexily up again. “As in hot. Food.”

“Food.” Food.

His flash of teeth made her want to bite him.

She sat back, quickly. What the hell was wrong with her? For months she’d been celibate. Granted she’d thought about…okay, maybe
fantasized
once or twice about Max. But this? This was
fast.
This was fast and furious and she wondered,
what the hell
. Had she learned nothing?

“What?” he asked.

It wasn’t fair to paint him with the black brush and poisoned paint that her last fling had left her with. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes, centered on herself and tried to…
feel
. She missed feeling, knowing what was what, not only around her, but within herself.

To hell with it.

She opened her eyes and focused on Max. “Nothing. Spicy food is fine.”

His narrowed eyes watched her. Did the man miss anything, because it sure as hell didn’t feel like it.

As they stood, he opened his wallet. She put her hand on his arm. “I sort of roped you into this.”

The straight-on stare stopped her even before his words. “I don’t let women pay. Period. You have a problem with that?”

Men were so damned touchy. If she said no, she sounded like she wanted a sugar daddy and if she said yes, she sounded ungrateful. She shrugged. “Whatever you want.”

They headed for the door, his hand again on the base of her spine. Not just to pull her chair out, but to guide her around the other tables through the dimly lit coffee shop to the door. At the register sat the Howard’s lanky son, Mark. He attended the local college, but then two of their three sons were enrolled at Northern New Mexico Community College. The young man’s eyes, bright and blue, followed her and Max across the shop to the door. He glanced across the street and then ducked his head.

What in the world?

Outside, on the sidewalk, the chilled evening air danced over her and she shivered.

Max looked up and down the street. “We could go to Mario’s—great Italian.”

“I know. I love their marsala.”

“Or we could go to Benita’s. Great New Mexican food.”

She grinned. “Either one, though I have to say that I love New Mexican food, the subtle flavors, spicy but not red chili spicy, ya know?”

“Yes, I know.” He frowned and looked at his watch. “I should have made reservations.”

She shrugged. “It’s okay. It’s spur of the moment.”

“Fulfilled hope is a better term.”

“Ah.” She liked this. This excitement mixed with anxiety. “Let’s walk.” She held her hand out to him and he took it after only a moment’s pause, his warm and comforting.

“It’s cold tonight.”

“Snow’s coming back,” she agreed.

Her heels clicked along the sidewalk, and they moved to the side to let a group of college students by, or maybe just a group of young friends.

As they made the three-block walk to Benita’s, neither said very much. However, it wasn’t the normal awkward silence of many first dates, it was more the comfortable silence of friends.

They neared the restaurant and she could see they wouldn’t be eating, at least sitting down to dine, anytime soon.

“Well, damn,” Max muttered.

“Carry-out?” she asked, and then realized that might be read as—

“Works for me.”

Stop worrying, for crying out loud, she thought. He was nice, she’d watched him for months. His aura was a calming blue, with the occasional color burst. But that was normal, at least to her, for very talented people. It was like an actual light bulb going off when they had ideas. She wondered what his aura was like while he painted. Or what it was like when he made love… And
where
did that thought come from? She concentrated on the menu he handed her.

They ordered their food, sipped tangy margaritas and munched through two baskets of salty chips and salsa while they waited.

She laughed as they made their way back loaded with three carryout bags.

When they again stood in front of the coffee shop, he jerked his head towards the gallery. “Want to come to my place to eat?”

“Because it’s so much closer to the paints?” she asked.

“I said nothing about paints.” He blinked. “Sorry. You’re just a great subject.”

“At least I’m a great something.” Okay, so hot thoughts must be put on hold since the man lived with his daughter.

Probably a good thing to go slow. Slow allowed one time to think. And thinking was good. Perhaps if she’d done more thinking in her life previously, then she might not be so torn up about what to do in her life now.

For a woman who had always just followed where fate led her, she’d questioned more in the last several months than in her entire life.
Thank you, fate.
And second-guessing was exhausting. Fate, roads, belief.

Shaking off the thoughts that never left her completely alone, she focused back on the sexy man beside her. Instead of entering the front door of the gallery, he walked around to the side to an arched adobe gateway with a tall wooden turquoise gate. The latch clicked as he opened and held the gate for her. She strode over the flagstones laid in the ground. Here at the back, a staircase led up to the second floor.

“I bet this courtyard is beautiful later in the year,” she said softly.

He grinned. “I admit, I like gardening and yes, it is. Maybe you’ll see it then.”

She licked her lips. Would she still be here? “Maybe I will.”

The door at the top of the steps opened and Alyssa barreled down the stairs, her black heeled boots clunking with the ease and grace of youth. “Later, Dad. Don’t wait up.”

“Alyssa.” He juggled and almost dropped one of the bags until Lake reached out and caught it. “Where are you going?”

“Dad, I’m fine. I’ll be in later.
Really
later, so have fun. I’ve got my cell phone, feel free to call, just not too many times. I’ll be with Mark.”

“Mark?” He frowned.

“Howard, coffee shop. Graphic artist major. Though he’s thinking of double majoring in business administration.”

He shook his head. “What about—”

“He wants to talk to me about the summer semester because registration starts next week.” Alyssa quickly kissed his cheek and darted around them. “You guys have fun, don’t wait up and spare the speech, Dad. I’m not nine. I’d be at NYU if not for last year, and then you’d have
no
idea what I was doing.”

“But Thad, aren’t you guys dating?”

Alyssa laughed. “Mark and I are
talking
about school, Dad. Jeez, it’s not a date. And even if it was, Thad’s…” She shrugged and walked backward towards the gate. “He’s himself and I’m me and we’re not
really
dating, we’re just, you know, casual.”

“Casual,” Max said.

The whirling burst of energy all but danced out the gate. The latch clicked into the silence. Cars drove by on the street and both adults were left standing holding bags.

“Ahhh,” Lake said into the baffled silence. “To be young and carefree again.”

“She’s never carefree.” He drew in a deep breath. “And what the hell does casual mean?”

“Do you really want to know?”

His eyes held no humor as they locked on hers.

“I think it means, mind your own business.”

He scoffed.

“Be thankful for times like these.” She looked at the gate with thoughts of youth and fun in her head and just like that, darkness swept in.

Black fog. Alyssa walking, hurrying, thinking…

Broken images.

Fear.

Evil…

The vision wasn’t clear…

Darkness trailed through the air, tentacles swirling closer and closer to Alyssa…

The images broke, scattered.

Eyes in containers.

From before.

Lake jerked and almost dropped the bag.

“Hey, you okay?” Max asked her in his deep voice.

Lake could only stand there like an idiot staring at the gate. The gate Alyssa had gone through, walked through, seemed to mock her.

Darkness still hung in the air. She shivered.

What did it mean? Did it mean anything?

“Watch out for her,” she said softly.

“What?”

“Alyssa, watch her.” She licked her lips. “Nothing, sorry, just…nothing.”

He frowned and said, “Come on, you’re cold. Let’s get inside and eat.”

The truth was, she was no longer hungry. For months she’d had shields in place, even as she had wanted to reconnect with herself. Yet when she lowered her shields, rarely could she…could she…
feel
or sense to any degree she used to. But not this time. This time, the feelings had all but blindsided her.

What did they mean?

She had been of no help before, not when she needed to be, not when it really mattered, when it really counted.

And only once had she had this feeling before, back in Sedona when Cora had almost died.

This darkness, an overcast sky, shrouded her senses. Was this real? Was she projecting feelings from the nightmare before?

“Hey?” His hand on her shoulder pulled her back. “Lake? You okay?”

She looked at him, then back at the gate. The feeling deep in her gut was the same—she had to do something. Maybe this was fate giving her a second chance to help, to stop the darkness she’d missed before.

She tried to smile and walked up the stairs.

Now she just had to figure out how to stop the darkness.

Chapter Three

Alyssa walked quickly down the sidewalk. Good, her dad might actually get some tonight, and if not tonight, then in the near future. Most kids freaked at the idea of parents and sex, which she thought was stupid. How the hell did the kids think they got there in the first place? Granted, she didn’t dwell on it, but she’d had sex. She knew her dad. If he scored, he would be thinking about Lake, and then he’d be thinking about something other than her. Something other than what she was wearing, where she was going, if she was eating enough, worrying if she’d suddenly go off the damn deep end.

Deep end.

She shoved her hands into the pockets of her dark red pea coat. Her boots felt tight and her knee was stiff and hurting. Probably about to get colder in the next couple of days.

Something was coming.

Something bad.

The deep end.

What the hell was the deep end anyway? She’d been so close to it before, it was almost familiar ground. Like climbing the same high peak and looking just a bit further over the edge. Then a little bit further, confident she wouldn’t fall.

But she could. She knew that all too well.

Hell, she’d seen more doctors, more shrinks in her short life than anyone else she knew. And that was before her mother and brother had died in the accident that almost claimed her own life.

Had it really been over a year already? She’d been in a coma for three months after that, and then rehab, coming here to live with dad and all the rounds upon rounds of doctor appointments. Apparently time flew when she was having fun. One thing she had to give Dad, he never asked if she
saw
people that no one else saw. He never asked what her dreams were about. More importantly, he never felt the need to pick her quietness apart, piece by piece as if looking for some malfunction or disorder or something. Her father, though hovering and too worrisome, gave her much-needed space. Not like Mom.

Her latest therapy sessions had been with a grief counselor and she didn’t need that woman to tell her that she was angry with her mother. That she was angry at her mother for dying in the stupid car accident, a car accident that could have been avoided if her mother had just for
once
listened to her.

They’d argued just that morning because Alyssa had been stupid enough to tell her mother she had a bad feeling about that day. She’d learned long before then to keep most of herself, of what went on inside her, to herself. But that time, that time it had been so strong. She had broken her own rule not to talk to Mom about what she “knew/saw/envisioned”. Those had been terrifying words to her mother and any of them, or anything to do with them, usually resulted in a new doctor, in new meds. But Mom hadn’t listened, she never listened. She’d only yelled at her to stop being dramatic.

“Mom, please, please listen—”

“Just
stop,
Alyssa. I can’t take this anymore. Get in the damned car!”

Absently, Alyssa rubbed her inner wrists along the pocket’s edge, feeling the scars that still marked the skin from a stupid night when she’d been too close to that edge, that beckoning edge, which had pulled her closer and closer until her mother had found her in the shower and called nine-one-one. That had been the summer between her sophomore and junior year. That had resulted in her parents having one hellacious fight.

Stop!

She paused, blinked and looked around.

A dark feeling crept closer and closer, all but slithering around her ankles.

She stepped back.

Angry red spears danced around her. Was she really the only person who could see them?

What if she was wrong? What if she really wasn’t psychic? What if she was as crazy as her mother and the hordes of Midwestern doctors had always believed?

She wasn’t crazy. She wasn’t.

Belief in herself was important. She knew that, had heard that, time and again from many around here.

Belief in herself.

The darkness seemed to gather strength, to grow. To breathe. To gain power, gain color.

Red.

The bright red dimmed, swirled, but never went away. The daggers danced closer and closer to her. Almost aiming at her.

Or were they?

Calm down. Stay calm.

Her breathing slowed and chills danced wickedly on her skin.

Where the hell was this coming from? Evil energy hissed through the air and she stumbled back a step into a group of laughing college coeds.

The red daggers at the edge of the dark essence morphed together, then shot away as if disjointed, needing something…

Or someone?

She rubbed her arms.

The thick air snaked and coiled, threatening.

Who was it? She glanced around, looking, searching…

***

He smiled as he watched her from the shadows. Where did she think she was going?

She could feel him.

Oh yes, she could feel him. He was sure of it. From here he could see her eyes, watchful, fearful. And he’d even shielded himself, hadn’t he? He thought he had. Perhaps his powers had waned more than he had thought. It wouldn’t be a surprise. Not a surprise at all, not with all the meds and sicknesses rushing through his body.

Her pale face was almost ghostlike in the wash of street lights, in the neon lights that flashed from one nearby bar and grill. Tourists spilled out onto the sidewalk around her.

That should confuse things.

Confusion was good. It didn’t allow one to focus on the important, on the tendril that could lead to him.

Her power hummed through the space between them, warm, dented, yet innocent at the same time, even as it was edged with darkness, layered with…so many layers and complexities.

He frowned.

Innocent and darkness in one? Warm yet… He closed his eyes… Cold at the same time.

Both?

She was unsure of herself.

He already knew that.

He knew about this one, knew she was gifted, though he had no idea she was this interesting.

A shame really. She was such a sweet girl. Sweet and nice and—

He shuddered as pain bit through his head, snaked down his spine. Nausea rolled his belly, and ice all but skittered over his skin.

Should have worn a coat or stayed inside.

But something had called to him to come out this night, to see, to
hunt
.

And now he knew.

He had hoped otherwise, but what was to be, would be, no matter what he or anyone else wanted to do.

Her darted looks, the eyes all but black from here, scanned back and forth before they zeroed in on the space where he hid.

She took one step.

Yes. Come to me, sweet.

Her black spiky hair glinted blue in the night lights as she shook her head. She froze, and jerked back.

No!

Her own silent voice screamed to him.
Run! Run!

He smiled. It wouldn’t do any good for her to run. He knew where she was, where she went. Who she was. He knew a lot about her.

He’d found his next one and the power of her alone… He trembled, the night and cold enveloping him as she turned and fled down the street.

It didn’t matter. He knew where she’d run.

Maybe he’d make this one slow, build it up. If she knew she was hunted, she’d try harder to fight him—increasing her will to live.

If she wanted to live even more, then she’d fight him harder.

The charge from that alone…

If he could still get an erection, he’d have a hard-on the size a whore would be proud of.

But the illness and meds had taken a lot from him. A lot that he hated. A lot that he wanted back.

That he
would
get back with the power of the transfers, with the power he took from them.

A chuckle surprised him. This one he would enjoy. This one he was looking forward to.

She was so powerful and she had no idea.

But he did.

And he’d have her and all her unharnessed power very, very soon.

***

Alyssa stumbled as she turned and ran.

Run! Run! Run!

The mantra screamed in her brain.

The darkness took on shapes, shapes she couldn’t make out from those around her, but she could feel them as they pressed against her, a cacophony of feelings, emotions, sounds.

Help us! Help us!

You must stop him.

He must be stopped!

He wants you—

He needs you.

He’ll have you if you’re not careful.

Run! Run! Run!

The voices screamed inside her head, none of them her own, all of them loud and terrifying.

She halted to get her bearings. Home, she was almost at home, but she couldn’t go home.

Dad was there. With a woman.

She’d go anyway.
Home. Safety.

She took a step across the street and then stopped.
No. No.

Raw nerves trembled through her, her limbs weak and shaking.

What would Dad say? Her mother… No. Dad wasn’t like that, he’d listen.

Sorry to rain on your date, but I had a vision.

A vision? Something else?

Pressure built within her.

She could feel it—them—whatever, pushing against her shields. Shields she’d constructed over the years to stop the voices, to stop the visions, to stop the knowing.

It wasn’t real.

“It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real.”

A hand on her shoulder ripped a scream from her throat even as a voice asked, “Alyssa?”

She whirled, and stared into bright blue eyes.

The trembling wouldn’t stop.

“Hey. Hey, Alyssa. What the hell?”

“Mark. Mark.” She stood there, just staring at him, her thoughts ragged and scattered, unfocused.

He looked from her to behind her, up and down the street. His tall frame towered over her and she didn’t know if she should run home and to hell with her father’s woman-date-whatever, or if she should…

“Come inside. Okay?” Mark took her arm and guided her into the coffee shop he ran at night for his parents.

Without a word, she let him lead her to the bar that guarded the side of the coffee shop. Patrons sat at tables, and a few glanced at them as he walked her to the last stool.

“Here, sit down, now.”

“Hey, buddy, we’d like to pay here,” said a man standing at the head of the bar, by the register.

“Just a minute.”

The man huffed and muttered something about service to the woman with him.

Warmth from the coffee shop hugged its arms around her, pulled her back, slowly at first, then seemed to jerk her back to where she was. To the here and now. Not to that other space somewhere between worlds that only she seemed to be aware of.

Maybe she really was freaking nuts.

Noise clattered against her eardrums. The soft indie rock that played from the speakers beat slowly on the air, mixing with the clunk of mugs on the glass tables, laughing with voices and murmurs of the customers. Heady coffee fragrances melded together and jolted her as surely as if she’d had a shot of espresso.

Alyssa took a deep breath and steadied herself.

“Better?” Mark asked.

She could only nod her head.

For a moment, his blue eyes studied her before he frowned, then walked behind and down the bar to the impatient customer still muttering to the woman with him.

When they paid, the old fashioned register trilling out a bell as the drawer opened, she took another breath.

Mark turned and filled a white mug, then plopped it in front of her with a narrowed look that might as well have commanded, “Drink it.”

Alyssa tried to smile and knew she failed, but cupped the mug in her palms in an attempt to warm herself.

She focused on the things around her, but wasn’t able to let it all in.

Instead she focused on Mark. Watched him move from the coffee dispensers to the glass-domed cake displays to the cookie jars.

His hands were long-fingered, the wrists sinewy. She knew from this past summer that his arms were muscled, as were his legs. He sometimes rode bikes with her dad in the mornings. Other mornings he jogged and she knew he liked to snowboard.

He was her friend and she was sort of seeing his brother, Thad.

Sort of. Or not. She still wasn’t certain and to be honest, wasn’t really concerned about it. She and Thad didn’t really have a “relationship”, but she had a feeling that if she started to flirt with Mark, he’d have an issue with it.

Mark was the quietest of the three boys, she’d learned. He often reminded her of her father with his solemn glances, studying intently as if trying to figure out the workings of things, the very essence of whatever he perused.

As far as she knew, he still hadn’t decided what he wanted to be, what he wanted to do. He was twenty-two, already had a bachelor’s in criminal justice but was taking computer graphics and business courses just now. His older brother, Thad, was working on a master’s in education while subbing at local schools in his off time.

Alyssa wondered what the differences were between them all. She had very little to do with the youngest brother, Kevin, who was her own age, but he was…he was…

Scattered.

Like Mark, Kevin wasn’t certain what he wanted to do and had only taken a course or two at the local community college, but unlike Mark, he had no direction. Kevin seemed perfectly happy to run the ski lifts at the resort a few miles up the road and work with the forest service through the summer. She’d often figured he was taking the courses to appease his family.

Would Timmy have been like Mark? Or Kevin?
Probably Kevin. Her brother had hidden parts of himself from their mother. He had been wiser than her and, God, she missed him.

Taking a deep breath, she shook off the morose thoughts.

“Thad should be here soon,” Mark said as he wiped the counter in front of her.

She frowned before she could stop herself. “Mark, a couple of kisses does not a relationship make.”

He only looked at her.

“Please, I know your brother and we’re not really seeing each other. I mean, we went out a few times. He’s cool. I like him, but can you really see either of us together, seriously?”