Murder Between the Worlds: A Between the Worlds Novel (26 page)

He kissed her, leaning forward and covering her mouth with his. She was so shocked she stood there and let him, her mind reeling. She had fantasized many times over the years about something like this and a small part of her wanted to give in to it. But the rest of her was too angry with him; after a second she pulled back and shoved him away. He staggered slightly, his expression hurt, and she punched him in the chest. “What is wrong with you? I can’t freaking handle this right now, okay? I practically had a nervous breakdown this morning, I’m trying to figure out how to be an empath as quickly as possible. Everything is falling apart, and I–can’t–handle–this!”

She was near tears, and she watched him struggle with his own emotions. She was learning first hand that Elven emotions were dangerous things, volatile and strong, and through her ragged shields she could feel his love warring with rage. She fought to calm herself down and get her shields back up, “I’m not rejecting your, your court, okay? Okay? But I can’t deal with this right now. And if you really care about me you’ll stop pushing this, okay?”

He took a deep breath, “I’m sorry Allie that was out of line.”

“Don’t apologize,” she muttered, sitting back down to eat, not because she was hungry but to get away from him without being obvious about it.

After a moment he sat back down as well and resumed his meal. Then, as if her words were just registering, “You’re an empath?”

“Always have been. And I seem to have blown a fuse through sheer stupidity and flipped my empath switch permanently to on,” she said not wanting to have to get back into that whole story.

He sighed, “That will make the funeral difficult for you, if you do not have your ability under control.”

“Yeah, I guess, but I have to go,” she replied, determined not to miss saying goodbye.

“We should have all the pieces,” Allie said frustrated. “I don’t understand this. We know what the ritual is and why it’s being done. We know where it’s being done and that the number of victims is higher than we thought. We know it has to be a descendant of one of the original coven members. We know he probably killed Aeyliss because she could have tracked him down, and Syndra to throw us off the track. I feel like it should be obvious who the killer is and we just aren’t seeing it,” Allie said rubbing her eyes.

It was the morning of Syndra’s funeral and the four Guards were with her as she prepared to go to the service. The entire Ashwood department and representatives from many other local human police forces were going to be there, and the elves had sent a couple squads as well, out of respect, which Allie appreciated.

“This killer is canny and manages to stay one step ahead,” Zarethyn said. “We will catch him, but it will not be easy.”

“It hasn’t been so far,” Allie agreed, pulling at the hem of her black dress. She hated wearing dresses. “I just feel like we already have the answer and we aren’t seeing it.”

The days since finding the stone altar had been almost anti-climactic in their normalcy. Jess had stayed by her side nearly continuously as she and Liz planned the funeral, and she got her store cleaned up and re-opened. Although working with several Guard hanging out in the store was both strange and not conducive to business, at least she felt slightly more normal, and Jess had been with her through it all, no matter how tedious.

But in the back of her head she had started to question whether he was staying with her to be supportive or because the elves thought the killer would make his move soon. Thanks to the empathy which she still could not block out, especially when physical contact was involved, she knew he did love her, but she doubted that would stop him from using her to catch the killer if it seemed expedient. It made her question their future once his duty wasn’t so conveniently aligned with her life, which was depressing but easier to think about than never seeing Syndra again.

The rest of the roommates were each struggling in their own ways to deal with Syndra’s absence. Liz had taken it upon herself to handle packing up Syndra’s things, working so quickly to clear her room that Allie had resorted to sneaking in during the night and filling a box with things she wanted to keep for herself. Since Syn didn’t have a will or any next of kin, Liz had decided to donate all of her possessions, including her car. Liz’s boyfriend Fred was helping her push the paperwork through the probate court in town hall where he worked.

Jason was picking up extra shifts at work and only coming home to sleep; Allie wasn’t sure if he was planning to come to the funeral or not. And she had been trying to avoid Bleidd, still not ready to deal with his declaration of love.

“Are you ready?” Jess asked her as the rest of the Guard all headed out the door.

No,
Allie thought, swallowing a sudden surge of tears, but she nodded and followed him anyway, pulling on her old leather jacket. It looked strange with the formal funeral dress but she thought Syn would appreciate it and it was too cold not to wear a coat. She had no idea how the elves stayed warm in their metal armor, unless they used magic.

The ride to the town’s only funeral home was tense and silent. Allie was riding in the back of the Guard car again, this time with Jess and Natarien. She had realized earlier that the elves were a bit baffled by the complex funerary rites human’s had; in Elven culture the body was cremated privately and close kin would hold a memorial service later to honor the person’s life. She’d never stopped and thought of how strange the human customs must seem to them, but last night at the wake, when she’d had to explain that it wasn’t the funeral, and then try to explain what would happen the next day, it had become clear that the entire concept was bizarre to them.

The car Allie was riding in was driving between several other official Guard vehicles in a small procession. Zarethyn had chosen to send three squads, including his own, to Syndra’s funeral as a sign of solidarity with the local human police community. Even though Allie knew it was basically a public relations move and possibly also a precaution in case the killer tried anything, unlikely as that seemed, she still appreciated the gesture.

When they pulled up outside Sweeney’s Funeral Home there were police cars, marked and unmarked, as far as the eye could see. Allie was assaulted by a wave of grief, anger, and unhappiness, that made her catch her breath. Worried, Jess pulled her against his shoulder, stroking her hair, “You do not need to do this. If it is too much for you we will return to your house.”

“No,” she said, gritting her teeth and putting as much energy as she could into her battered shields. “No. She was my best friend. I need to do this. But if I pass out, you can say I told you so later.”

He looked alarmed at that but Brynneth was opening the door and she was pushing him out, giving him little choice except to get out of the car or make it obvious they were disagreeing. He pulled her along with him, keeping her tucked against his side as they walked up to the little door that led in to the building. He had quickly learned that physical contact had the strongest effect when she needed help with outside emotions; her growing dependence on him made her feel needy and comforted by turns.

As they walked into the funeral home Allie was once again assaulted by bitter memories of her grandmother’s death–the same nondescript hallway leading to the same blank room, the same heavy scent of flowers, the same underlying smell of death.

Unlike her grandmother’s tiny family service though, Syndra’s ceremony was packed with people, including friends, lovers, and rows of uniformed police. The Elven Guard squads stood in a row along the back wall, their armor gleaming under the electric lights. Allie looked to the front where the heavy oak coffin sat with a large framed picture on top of Syndra in her uniform smiling out at the room, and her feet would go no further. She saw Liz and Bleidd sitting in the front row with several empty seats, she assumed for herself and Jason, but she could not make herself join them.

She whispered up to Jess, “Can we stay back here with the rest of the Guard?”

He looked confused, but nodded, guiding her to an open space along the wall, “If you prefer, we may stand with the Guard. But are you certain you would not rather sit?”

“I’m certain,” she mumbled. And so she stood against the wall, weeping quietly, throughout the entire service, which was lovely. Several people got up and said nice things about Syndra, including Liz, who spotted Allie while she was talking and kept trying to catch her eye. Allie avoided her though, focusing on making it through to the cemetery. She could not let herself totally break down until it was all over, so she held on to her self-control by a thread.

The car ride to the cemetery provided some respite, and when they all gathered again at the grave side–Syndra’s picture now resting on an easel next to the coffin–Allie was starting to feel less ragged. Folding chairs had been set up in long rows to accommodate the crowd and this time Allie sat with her friends, Jess still by her side. Bleidd, on her other side reached out partway through the lowering of the coffin and took her hand, and she could feel Jess’s irritation radiating out on the other side. It provided a good distraction so that Allie wasn’t thinking quite as much about her friend’s body going into the cold ground.

It was a small explosion but somehow all the more dramatic for that. The flames leaped and consumed Syndra’s picture as the gathered mourners jumped to their feet in alarm. Someone pointed to the northern end of the cemetery and Allie spotted the two slim forms there; she had no doubt it was the two Dark Court elves, although she had no idea why they would show up to publically disrupt the funeral. It made no sense and there was something deeply counterintuitive to the action. Everyone was yelling and several of the armed police officers had drawn their guns. A moment later the Elven Guard who were present ran towards the woods, flying over the ground like deer. Jessilaen hesitated, his hand clenching on her shoulder, and without thinking she said, “Go! Don’t let them get away.”

He started to step away and stopped, and to her surprise Walters, who was standing nearby, said “Go–she’s surrounded by cops. Go catch those bastards. We’ll get her back to her house.”

Jess nodded and ran off at a right angle from the others, Bleidd running with him, trying to guess where the Dark Court elves would have been heading. Allie watched them run, praying they’d both stay safe and hoping that Bleidd would remember his promise to her not to seek revenge. Walters reached out awkwardly and put a hand on her shoulder. “Come on. I think that pretty much ended the service. We’d better get you back to the house where the other Guard are before anything else happens or your boyfriend’ll filet me.”

Allie couldn’t help smiling slightly, despite the circumstances. She felt a wave of anxiety from the brawny detective.
Maybe Walters isn’t so bad
, she thought wiping away the last few tears.
He’s an ass, but I guess he has a good heart underneath it all.
She spared a final look at the coffin being lowered into the earth.
Goodbye Syn. I’ll never stop missing you.
“Yeah, I guess we better get going.”

Liz shook her head, her nose red from crying, “I can’t leave yet, I have to finalize a few details with the cemetery manager. You go on though. I drove myself; I can’t leave my car here anyway.”

Allie reached out spontaneously and hugged her cousin. After a moment of stiff surprise Liz hugged her back. They were still not on the best of terms, in fact besides discussing Syndra’s arraignments they’d barely spoken, but Allie hoped her cousin knew how bad she felt about everything.

She and Detective Walters walked through the milling crowd, everyone still agitated from the disruption, towards the parking lot. Walters had parked in the far corner and by the time they reached his car she was tired and ready to go home. She was surprised to see he was driving an older heavy car, the kind that was common on Earth but not usually seen in the Borderland areas because it had a lot of iron in it and was hard to keep running. She turned and was walking towards the passenger side door, thinking that he must pay a fortune to someone to keep the car running, when she felt a sharp pain in her head and everything went black.

****************

Walters lifted the unconscious girl out of the trunk in the dark and carried her to the shed behind his house. It was amazing how well the plan had worked–his new allies had created a distraction as promised and all of the Elven Guard had chased after them like cats after a mouse, leaving the girl unguarded. It had almost been too easy then, despite all the human police milling around, to grab her, and no one suspected him. He’d hit her from behind, drugged her, and stuffed her in his trunk while everyone was still chasing rogue elves. His private phone rang several times but he ignored it. This was the best plan and he knew success was in his grasp; the others would realize he was right.

When the altar had been found he’d been sure everything was lost, but suddenly it was all turning back in his favor. The troublesome mixed blood bitch was out of the way; he’d managed to do it without technically going against what the rest of the group wanted, something he knew he could make them understand, and when he handed her over to the two elves he’d seal their bargain. Although he’d rather see her bleed out in his ritual to pay for her interference, the idea of what she’d suffer made him happy. He hoped it took her a long time to die.

He dropped her unceremoniously onto the shed’s concrete floor, rolling her over with his foot, and he pulled off the jacket she was wearing and tossed it in a corner. Grabbing an old strip of towel he kept as a rag off of a shelf he tied her wrists behind her back. Then just to be sure he pulled out the rag he used to drug all the girls with, soaked in a potent anesthetic, and held it against her face for a few more seconds. There was a risk that he’d overdose her and kill her, but he didn’t care too much–after all, he’d promised the damn elves the girl, but he’d never promised she’d be alive, and if she died, he’d blame her death on them. When she was totally limp he dropped her head back to the concrete. He quickly pulled off her shoes, throwing them onto her jacket; he’d take both and burn them now since she wouldn’t need them and it was too risky to keep any of her things. Now he had only to wait for his new friends to return and he could hand the girl over before heading back out to work.

               ****************************

Allie woke up in the dark, and her first thought was that she was cold. Her head hurt, and there was a strange metallic taste in her mouth. She tried to roll over and slowly realized that her hands were tied behind her back. Nothing made sense, but it was hard to think with the pounding in her head.

Somehow she managed to get to her knees, and then her feet, staggering as everything seemed to spin. She almost fell and her shoulder hit something; after a moment she realized it was the wall of an aluminum shed, the kind gardeners used to store tools and small equipment. She tried to walk and fell again and without warning found the surface she hit moving as the door to the shed opened. She hit the cold earth and lay there for a moment, still not sure what was going on. It was so hard to think and her mouth tasted bad. She struggled up again and took a few more steps when she heard someone swearing–before she could turn towards the voice, she was tackled and driven to the ground with so much force she heard her ankle snap. The surge of pain cleared her head a little, but she couldn’t get her eyes to focus.

“You stupid bitch!” Someone was growling and then a fist hit her, hard in the back. She grunted and the person hit her again and again, until she started to cry. “Stupid bitch! You’re ruining everything!”

She felt helpless and frightened as her mind tried to make sense of what was going on. The person pinning her down stopped hitting her and for a moment she could hear his ragged breathing above her. Not the Dark Court elves then, this sounded distinctly human, and despite herself she could feel waves of savage anger and fanatical determination from him
.

Is he the killer? Did he kill Detective Walters and kidnap me? But why? Why not just kill me too? I don’t understand this.

A moment later the person’s weight lifted and then she felt him grabbing the back of her dress. He dragged her the few feet back into the shed as she writhed and tried to kick, tossing her down onto the concrete floor. Before she could recover he had picked up something from a set of standing shelves against one wall and rolled her onto her stomach. He knelt on her back, and she heard the distinctive sound of duct tape being measured out, then he quickly untied her hands, dragging her right wrist up to her left elbow behind her back. She felt the tape being wrapped around her arms. He re-tied her hands that way on both sides leaving her no room to move. It pulled her shoulders painfully tight and made it hard to get a full breath. She heard herself whimpering and he got up kicking her hard in the ribs. She curled up reflexively, as much as she could, as he moved to the back of the shed. She heard a heavy metallic dragging sound as he moved something over in front of the little door; she could feel the iron even from there and repressed another whimper.

I have to open my eyes,
she thought fighting the dizziness and after effects of whatever she’d been drugged with.
I have to see who this is
.

Before she could manage more than to weakly thrash her head from side to side, he was back and had grabbed her hair again. He gagged her with the rag he’d had her hands tied with before, and she took advantage of the moment and managed to crack her eyes open. The face that came into focus was such a shock that she froze and he shoved a wet cloth under her nose. She tried to struggle and he ground the cloth into her face; she smelled the same sharply metallic scent that had filled her mouth and everything went grey….

             *******************************

“I am certain she is not dead,” Jessilaen repeated, his voice ragged but unwavering. “I would know if she were.”

Unexpectedly the Outcast spoke up as well, “I agree, Guard. She is not dead, at least not yet. If we hope to keep her that way we must find her with all speed.”

The group of Elven Guard - Zarethyn, Jessilaen, Brynneth, and Natarien - as well as Bleidd and Detective Riordan had gathered at Allie’s house. The remaining Guard squads and police were searching the cemetery and surrounding area, so far without success. Zarethyn had ordered Allie’s cousin and other roommate placed under Guard until she was found as a precaution, something that her cousin had resented greatly. He had not relented though, fearing that they should repeat their error in losing Allie by allowing harm to come to any of her remaining friends or family.

Zarethyn looked from one to the other after the two elves spoke. He knew both blamed themselves for Allie being taken during the funeral, after they had left her unguarded, a burden he shared. When the Dark elves had appeared so blatantly they had all reacted without enough thought, and assumed that the half-elf would be safe surrounded as she was by so many human police. It had been a real shock to return after a fruitless pursuit to find that Detective Walters had been attacked and Allie was gone. “How is Detective Walters?”

“He’s fine,” Riordan said, sounding like a man who was nearly at the end of his own strength. Zarethyn looked at him sharply, wondering if the human had the fortitude to see this through to the end. “They sent him home to recover but he’s insisting on working his next shift. Wouldn’t even go in the ambulance. Looks like someone came up behind him and shoved some kind of drugged rag under his nose. He said he got a strong dose of it before he even realized what was going on, and next thing he knew he was on the ground, which is where the other guys found him. I know it doesn’t count for much, but he feels awful about the whole thing.”

Brynneth was spreading maps out onto a folding card table that Bleidd had set up in the living room. “The question is why did he not kill the detective?”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Riordan said angrily.

“Not at all, but it is illogical. It would have been easier and safer for the killer to eliminate the detective instead of leaving him alive and a potential risk.”

“Maybe. But maybe it was a time issue. He was surrounded by cops–maybe he saw an opportunity to grab Ms. McCarthy when he saw her with just one cop walking out to the car and decided to seize the moment, but was trying to be fast before anyone else noticed. He comes up behind them–not hard with so many people, they wouldn’t have noticed someone in a parking lot–and he knocks out Walters and then grabs the girl. He gets her in his car and takes off in the confusion before anyone even notices.” Riordan said

Brynneth didn’t look convinced, but didn’t press the point. Jess tried to get them re-focused “We must find her. She was saying this morning that we have all the pieces of the puzzle, but we are failing to put them together. We must see what we are missing before it’s too late.”

Zarethyn nodded. “What is the common thread, besides Aliaine?”

No one spoke.

                    ***************************

As the hours went by she tried to rest and gather her strength, ignoring the pain. The concrete was cold under her cheek, her ankle throbbed in an insistent way that made her think it was probably broken, and she was desperately tired, but she found that she could draw strength by focusing on Jessilaen. At first she thought it was only her imagination, but as time dragged on she was certain that the more she focused on him the stronger the connection to him became. Bleidd had told her that in a few cases elves could psychically bond to each other on a deep level that allowed for an unspoken exchange of emotions and thoughts. Of course he had also said this was an extremely rare occurrence which took years to form and was almost certainly impossible for her due to her father’s mortal blood.

As an empath, she could also form emotional connections to people, like the one she appeared to have had with Syndra, although she hadn’t ever been aware of them before. And yet she was increasingly certain she could feel Jess’s presence in her mind, his fear for her, desperation, and rage were distinctly not her own. Either he really was there, in her head in some way, or she was finally losing her mind from the stress. She wondered if this was an Elven thing or an aspect of the empathy like the connection she had had to Syndra, or some strange hybrid of the two. She felt a burning rage and terror thinking of Syn, but struggled to push it aside.

M
aybe–maybe, somehow I do have that soul bond with him, and because of my gift with empathy, amplifying the emotions and solidifying things, that’s why it’s stronger and it formed faster than anyone thought it should. Maybe somehow that’s what’s allowing me to reach out and connect to him at this distance. That’s an awful lot of maybes…
It seemed impossible and she didn’t think it was supposed to work this way.

So far she hadn’t been able to read anyone who wasn’t either in physical contact with her or very close by unless she dropped all her shields completely, which she’d already proven was a bad idea. She was fairly sure Syndra had reached her only because of the agony the other woman had been suffering at the time, resonating through their connection and touching Allie’s sleeping mind. Still it seemed too much for coincidence that she was the key to the elves solving these murders, which had led her to meet and love Jessilaen, and now her own life depended on the Elven Guard finding her and this tenuous connection to Jess might be the only way for her to be saved and for the killer to be caught
.

I could almost believe in Elven synchronicity after this,
Allie thought,
if I’m still alive after this, that is. I wonder though, if this is all part of a greater pattern–if I met him and we love each other because it’s supposed to save me now, or at least catch the killer–how? How does it work?
She closed her eyes trying to think past the throbbing in her head.
I can feel what he’s feeling, so he can probably feel what I’m feeling too? Maybe, maybe not. I couldn’t project anything to him when I tried at the Outpost. Bleidd did say that people who have this connection can use it though, can
communicate with it, but how? My own empathy has always been receptive only. But Syndra pulled me to her…

She tried to roll over, to relieve some of the cramping in her shoulders from the way her arms had been tied and hit her foot against the iron railing he’d put across the inside of the door to keep her from escaping. The metal seared the exposed flesh of her ankle, and she writhed away reflexively, tears streaming from her eyes as every single injury added its pain to this new agony.

At the same time though she was vaguely aware that the feeling of Jess-ness surged stronger and more clearly; she even had a momentary, disorienting glimpse of maps laid out on an unfamiliar table.
I think I just saw through his eyes,
she thought, gasping, and trying not to vomit behind the gag. The physical pain was almost overwhelming and it was easier to focus on this new revelation than on what her body was going through.

Stop and think
Allie,
she told herself,
there’s something about this–it was in the grimoire,
she realized,
it’s the same idea behind cutting up the girls–using pain to fuel magic with a set spell to create an amplifying effect. Pain as an energetic battery to create a long term effect rather than creating a one-time power surge. That’s what the book said. Tharien said my own gift allows me to use emotions to power my magic… but my own emotions? My own pain… instead of other peoples… If I can channel my own pain into this energy-echo spell to amplify my natural ability I should be able to use it to reach to him, to get him to hear me.