Psychic Visions 08-Now You See Her... (3 page)

She almost laughed then cried. Stefan hadn’t left her.

Sure he has. You’re all alone. You’ve always been all alone.
That hated evilness twisted through her mind, its poisonous tone dominating her thoughts.

“Miss, are you okay?” A strange voice penetrated through the mess in her head, his voice dark mysterious. “Can I help you?”

She groaned. No, please not an innocent bystander. He wouldn’t understand. “No,” she whispered. “Run or you’ll get hurt too.”

“What?”

In the background there was more noise. The stranger spoke to someone. Dimly she understood he was calling for an ambulance. Oh Lord, he was going to get hurt. She couldn’t have another death on her conscience.

But overriding the worry of the stranger wove the hated voice of her nightmares. Too Late.
You were promised to me years ago. It might have taken this long to corner you, but I’m not going to lose out on my best test subject. I’ve waited a long time to have you come back to me.
He laughed.
But don’t worry, I’ll make sure you live a long and healthy life.

“No,” she cried out loud. “I’d rather die.”

Yes.
Stefan spoke up again.
That’s exactly right, finally. Do it. Die.

“Whoa,” the stranger crouched beside her called out. “Take it easy. Help is coming.”

The help was too late for her. It had always been too late for her.

And it’s too late for him. This innocent stranger you’ve sucked into this mess
.
I’m going to kill him too.

She couldn’t let that happen. She reached out to save the man trying to help her. He needed to disconnect from her. From this. Or he’d be lost.

Only she couldn’t feel him. Or see him, but she was connected…somehow. She reached out a hand and drove a bolt of energy at him, trying to cut him loose. To push him away from her. To remove his hand on her wrist. Then it was too late. Too late to wonder…to worry. She finally gave up on it and gave into the paralysis, the pain, the torment and she relaxed her grip on her life.

And passed peacefully. Screams from her tormentor echoed
No
in her head as she slowly, one tiny fragment at a time – died.

Free from him at last.

T
ia opened her
eyes. White blinding light hit her, forcing her to slam them back closed again. She whimpered in pain. What happened? Her memories were dim, fuzzy. She couldn’t remember anything.

She lay quiet while the back of her eyeballs adjusted to the aftershock of so much white.

She’d never seen anything like it.

Then it hit her. Please no. But she had to consider it. She’d said she’d never be taken alive. And the pain, the panic rippled through her as memories – as faded and dim as roses past their prime, but still there – rolled ever onward.

She’d been found out. Caught.

Maybe even betrayed. And she’d let go. Of the struggle. Of everything she’d ever known. Of life.

Then what the hell was she doing here? And where was here?

Unless she truly was…dead…and this is what came after?

Shit.
Okay, breathe girl, breathe.

She was dead. There. Okay, she’d said it. So what? Apparently she could still think – or rather panic. Her breath was coming out in tiny puffs, her chest rising and falling in tiny increments. As if she was unable to do more. But her blood pulsed deep inside, clouding her hearing so there was only that steady
boom boom
going on inside.

That wouldn’t happen if she was dead.

Right?

She splayed out her fingers. She could move them and her arms. Slowly, carefully, she took stock of her body, feet, legs. They were all functioning. The sheet on top of her was normal cotton. Not the silkiest on her skin, but not the worst she’d ever experienced.

Her right wrist felt odd. Bare.

Her bracelet was gone. She frowned, not bothered about the loss. Why was that?

And where the hell was she? Instinctively she smoothed her hand over her belly. She had on clothing of some kind. She always slept in her undies. This was so not her underwear.

Taking a deep breath she opened her eyes to slits, enough to try and see without being blinded.

White everywhere.

The walls and ceiling. The light fixture and lamp. Her sheet. Her bed. Carefully sitting up in case of a headache from the movement, she tried to search out anything in the room that would explain where she was.

Then she glanced down at her left wrist and the plastic band encircling it, a white hospital band.

Crap. She turned to look again around the room. It was the oddest hospital room she’d ever seen. She pinched the name tag and turned it.

Jane Doe.

All senses alert, she slipped out of bed, gasping as her bare toes hit the cool floor. A draft slipped down her bare back, and she shuddered. Yep, a hospital gown with the damn ties at her neck. Gross.

Still, it confirmed where she might be.

She checked out the machines beside her. As she wasn’t connected, she wasn’t bothered. But there was redness on her wrist and a bandage to say she might have been hooked up at one time.

The small room had a door on the left and a door on the right. She moved to the door with a window and snuck up on it from the side. She peered out. There was a type of grid work in the glass but not bars. She studied them then shrugged. If she had to she could break it, but the hole wasn’t big enough for her to squeeze through – even as skinny as she was.

And damn if she didn’t feel as gaunt as a prisoner from a war camp. How long had she been here?

Outside the window was another white wall. Everywhere she looked were white walls.

Bending, she slipped under the glass to the other side and checked out that view. A hallway. And a man standing outside waiting. He had no white coat of a doctor and didn’t appear to be wearing a uniform of any kind. So not likely staff.

A cop? A guard? An observer? Waiting for someone. Waiting to see someone?

The possibilities ripped through her mind as she considered the threat factor.

He wasn’t looking her way, didn’t appear to care if she was there or not.

She frowned.

For the moment, she’d lower the danger factor his presence would normally garner. As there was no one else, no signs or exits showing outside her door, she turned her attention to the rest of the room. The second door was a washroom. She used the facilities and washed her hands, keeping the door open so she could hear if anyone came in. Done, she walked to the window, half hidden by curtains, and stared out. Light evening with darkness quickly falling. In the half light she could see beautiful lawns and gardens below. Dozens of lights shone around the area, but more as soft atmospheric lighting than keeping the area safe from predators type of lighting.

Neither could she see much in the distance. A city skyline but not one she recognized.

What kind of hospital was this?

A private hospital? Surely a government run one didn’t have this kind of money. She could barely see the corner of a parking lot off to the side. Yet a bright light shone on a Jaguar and what looked like the latest in Porsches parked close to the building. She frowned.

That didn’t make sense in her world.

Sure doctors made good money, but this kind of money?

She turned to stare at the rest of the room. There had to be something here to help identify her surroundings.

Moving swiftly, she opened the few cupboards, delighted to see her clothing hanging inside the first one. The rest of the room appeared to be empty.

Voices sounded outside her door. Making a fast decision, she ran back to her bed and slipped under the covers. Giving into instinct, she rolled over and pretended to be asleep while keeping her eyes open barely enough to see.

A woman in a bright fuscia pink uniform walked in.

The pink was almost as hard to handle as all the white.

The sound of the woman’s footsteps was quiet. No clipping, just a slight squeak of a rubber tread.

She waited, pretending to be asleep, but her nostrils flared at the smell. It wasn’t perfume. But…

“I’m sorry you’re still asleep. These are beautiful. I’ll just put them on the side here. You’ll see them when you wake up.”

The woman’s cheerful voice kept up a running stream of chit chat as if the sound of her voice would make Tia rest easier.

It was comforting.

Until she stopped talking.

The squeak came closer and closer. She tensed. She didn’t know what the woman was looking for or planning to do, but Tia wasn’t having any drugs or tests of any kind.

After a moment she heard the door open.

“She’s still asleep. Keep an eye on her but there doesn’t appear to be any change.”

In the background she heard a deep rumbling voice. “Will do.”

So that was a guard.

That’s all the confirmation she needed. A guard had to guard something. That meant she was a prisoner. She was out of here.

*

Dean Walker leaned
back against the hallway wall. Why did the extra shifts he’d picked up have to be at the hospital? Didn’t anyone understand – people died here.

Too many of them.

Besides, this place was a little too close to home. He’d been seeing a shrink himself for the last month. Dr. John Loring was on the departmental payroll and had been keeping an eye on Dean since he’d started to slide so badly.

He shook his head. He’d been a cop for a decade, and now that he had his little boy to think of, extra money was required, especially with his current health issue. He squashed that thought and the insidious fear inside waiting to strike at his hard won control. But nighttime? At a hospital? Good thing Grandma had Jeremy at her house for a sleepover. Then again, Jeremy loved his grandmother almost as much as he loved his dad.

Thank heavens.

A few staff members walked down the hallway. One talking to another and the third muttering over something on his tablet.

Nothing major and nothing unusual.

Not here on the psych ward. Not that it was officially called that – except among the staff – and the cops. He hated that even worse. It was one thing to have a thing about hospitals where people died, but on this side of the building the patients were bat-shit crazy.

Especially the beautiful woman he was here to protect. At least according to her team of doctors. Sure they had fancy names for her condition, but that was the bottom line.

She wasn’t big enough to fight anyone off should it come to that and appeared to be sick enough that she might not survive whatever happened to her to begin with. She was thin, long and lean. Her features waxy, lax.

He hated to think she was dying, but he hadn’t seen any sign of life since he’d been on his shift tonight.

And why was he here again? Right, because Stefan Kronos had asked. And was apparently footing the bill.

So far the woman hadn’t even had a visitor. Did no one care?

Then again, the couple of times he’d looked in on her, she’d been sleeping, or maybe unconscious might be the better term. It could be that she had no family or no one knew she was here, or maybe they were waiting for her to wake up before they came to visit.

He crossed his arms over his chest. It was past one in the morning. He was here for another hour then would be replaced by Greg – another cop he knew. Sad that so many of them needed the extra money these days. But the facts were the facts and bills had to be paid – one way or another. He studied the pure white hallway, wondering at the color choice. He understood it was light and made the small rooms look bigger, but surely something other than institutional white was more cheerful.

At a quarter past he walked into her room and took a look to make sure all was well, as he did every quarter hour. She slept soundly.

Good. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if she woke up and started doing something weird. Although if she did wake up, the machines she was hooked up to would likely go nuts. How appropriate. He looked closer and realized somewhere along the line the machines had been turned off. And she’d been disconnected.

So maybe she was doing better. Good for her.