Deadly Vision (13 page)

Fallon closed her eyes, hoping it was all a dream. She didn’t want to see another woman mangled and bloody, knowing any information she discovered would come too late to stop the woman’s blood from running in tiny rivulets along the hard wooden floor. She didn’t want the knowledge that even as she watched the scenes rush past her, she was helpless to change them. That she’d never see the man’s face. Never stop the bastard from claiming his prey.

“Yes. Take it. Take all of it.”

The words caught her by surprise and she forced her eyes open. She hadn’t expected to see him until he’d opened the door, seeking his escape, as in her previous visions. But this one seemed different. She couldn’t place what was out of sorts, but something was…missing.

“Let me cleanse the wickedness from your soul.”

Fallon turned. A familiar sound echoed through the dark space, vibrating off the silent walls. She looked around, noting the intricate stained glass windows and arched walkways. This wasn’t a broken down building, like the last place. It was regal, and worthy of whatever God its clergy prayed to. The pews were polished, shining in the wavering light cast by the candles, and she could almost hear the soothing tones of a children’s choir singing from behind the pulpit.

“Can you feel me?” the voice asked.

Fallon tensed as her gaze settled off to the right, where the altar had filled her vision upon her arrival. It was hidden in the shadows and she found herself inching towards it, hating each step, but needing to see what was happening. The sound grew stronger, wet slick sounds that made the hairs on her neck tingle. She recognised it now for what it was—someone was fucking. A male groan rumbled through the air and the wet sounds grew faster.

She cringed, not sure why she was here. She’d expected to find a woman spread across the hard wood, her body carved, her eyes dull, unseeing. Perhaps this was a dream?

“Yes. You want it, don’t you?”

She stopped, unable to turn away from the scene before her. A man, his pants pushed down to his thighs, his ass pumping steadily back and forth. He held the woman’s feet around his waist, keeping her open for him, her knees bent against her chest. His face was turned away from her, but she could tell by the grey hair laced amidst the blonde, it was him…
The Priest
.

Fallon stepped closer, but no matter which way she moved, his face was never visible. It was part of her curse. She’d never been able to see anyone’s face except the victims. And those haunted her dreams.

She stopped moving and watched the man rape the woman, his cock sliding in and out of her pussy, glistening with the woman’s cream as it left her body before plunging back in. The woman’s eyes were open, but they were dull. Not dead, but not seeing. He’d drugged her, or tortured her to the point she’d retreated inside herself, already gone, but still breathing. Either way, it eased some of the fear from Fallon’s chest. At least the woman wouldn’t die knowing she’d been used in such a manner. The man didn’t seem to care. He watched only her cunt, commenting on the wetness of it and how warm and plump it was as he cleansed the demons from her soul. Fallon watched as his thrusts increased, a tension bunching the muscles in his thighs. He was close.

“Yes. Take my seed and let it purge the evil from your soul!”

Fallon flinched at the righteousness in his voice, as if he truly believed he was saving the woman. His body went rigid, his hips grinding into the woman’s pelvis as the air hissed from his chest in steady pants. He was still coming and Fallon only wished she could strike now, while he was most vulnerable. But all she could do was watch the images flow around her, alternating between their solid and semi-transparent forms. Her presence here was tentative, and she wondered how long she’d be able to stay.

“Now, you’re clean.” He pulled out and sighed as he tucked his cock back inside his pants and fastened them around his waist. Then he took his knife and placed it at the woman’s throat. “Rejoice in your purity as you move to from this world to the next.”

Fallon screamed and backed away, unable to draw her eyes away from the steady stream of blood flowing from the woman’s neck. He hadn’t sliced it open or mutilated it, but simply put a small hole in one side. The woman’s body jerked once, and then stilled, her eyes still open, still staring at the ceiling.

“Oh God.”

Heat fused through her, circling the room right, then left. Her body moved, and she knew she’d fallen to the floor. She thought she’d heaved, but only knew the feel of the wood beneath her hands, the rough play of fabric across her knees. She was crawling, but she didn’t know where she was heading. A loud crack filled the room, dropping her to her stomach. The sound rolled through her head, pulling her down, sparking pain so fierce she heard her own cry fill the heavy air. She was dying. It was the only answer. The vision was killing her, as surely as the man had killed the woman. She reached out, and wrapped her hands around a thin spindle, as the world shifted again, and launched her into the air.

“No!”

* * * *

Fallon moaned and grabbed her head, her stomach lurched as the floor dipped one way and then the other. Her phone blared off to her left, the music filling the empty air. She pulled herself over, not sure why she needed to answer it, only knowing she did. Somehow she found the strength to lift her body up and grab the small unit off the table. She opened it, her mind already aware of who was on the other end.

“9-1-1.”

That’s all she could say before the kitchen swirled again, threatening to throw her to the floor. She didn’t know how she kept her body upright. It was unusual she was even conscious, always losing herself for hours after her visions. But somehow she held on, clearing her mind, fighting to keep the air flowing into her chest. She heard a man breathe into the phone, and tensed.

“Hello, Angel.”

She cringed at the sexual tone to his voice, as if they were lovers. And while she’d never seen his face, she knew the smile that curved his lips. It was smug, but with a hint of regret, like killing the woman had taken a toll on his soul. But he’d done it just the same. She tried to pull herself up, inject some authority into her words, but any motion set off fireworks in her head, and it took all her strength not to moan. “Priest.”

He chuckled as she spoke his name. The sound sent a cold shiver down her spine. “I love that you know the sound of my voice, Angel. It’s like we’re connected.”

Fallon’s stomach heaved again, and had to beat the feeling down. She wouldn’t fail the woman…not again. “I’m sure you’d feel that way with whoever answered the phone. I suppose I’ve just been lucky.”

The Priest growled, and for a moment, she thought she’d made a mistake. “I told you before that you’re destined for this,
Angel!
It’s your voice, so soft and deep. It’s like listening to the heavens sing. I won’t talk to another, Angel. Only you.”

Her throat constricted around her next breath, and she had to force herself to inhale through her nose. She wanted to talk to him, but the grey feeling was returning, threatening to draw her back into his world. She closed her eyes, willing the vision away.

“What’s the matter, Angel? Don’t you want to talk to me?”

She nodded, forcing a hushed, ‘yes’, from her lips.

“Good. You know, it’s funny. I feel as if I know you, like I’ve seen you before. I can imagine your eyes, so full of compassion and understanding. I bet they’re blue, Angel. Am I right?” He laughed, the sound cold and calculating. “You don’t have to answer me. I’ll know…in time.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing. Don’t worry, Angel.”

“But it sounds as if you think I need to be…cleansed.” She struggled around the word, hoping he wouldn’t hear her revulsion. She needed to keep his trust, until Gil could catch his sorry ass.

He paused, the sound of his breath the only noise filling her head. “But then who would I talk too?”

His question sounded real, sincere. But there was something in his voice that made her wonder if there’d come a time when he wouldn’t
need
someone to talk to. And then what? She tried to ask him, but only a faint whimper came out.

“I like talking to you,” he continued. “You soothe me. Help me hold off the need…at least for a while. I—I don’t
want
to hurt you.”

But he would, if his demons demanded it. She could hear it in her head as surely as if he’d spoken the words aloud. She forced herself to swallow, hoping the saliva would ease the dry feeling in her throat. “I don’t want that either. I like talking to you, too.” It was a lie, but she hoped maybe the idea would
soothe
him further. Maybe keep him from killing another woman for a few more days.

“Then I’ll have to call you again. But first, you need to know where to send the police. It’s by the river, southwest district, very ornate. I think you’d like it. She’s waiting there for them. Until next time, Angel…”

“Wait! Can’t we talk a bit more? I’d like to know more about you.”

“All in good time. But I’ve lingered too long as it is. And I wouldn’t want you to give me any reason to change my opinion of you, Angel.” He grunted then. “I don’t like to be betrayed.”

Fallon listened to the words followed closely by the whine of the phone. He wanted her to advertise his work, but he didn’t want her to give any information that might get him caught. He was hanging on the edge, and she feared his desperation to cleanse his own demons was strengthening.

She disconnected the line and stared at the phone, watching it blur and shimmy against her hand. The visions were still pulling at her, but she focused on dialling the number, pressing each button in sequence. She couldn’t let them take her, not until after she’d talked to Gil. Her stomach rolled in protest and she sucked in a deep breath to keep the bile from rising in her throat. They were hovering just outside her reach, but she was managing to keep them there, a first for her. That’s when it hit her.

“Oh my God.”

Now she remembered why the vision had seemed different. It’d happened before the call, before
The Priest
had any connection to her. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the ringing sound. She wouldn’t admit what was screaming in her head. Their link was gathering strength. Her powers were emerging.

* * * *

Gil sat at his chair, staring down at the pictures he’d arranged on his desk. Eight women now. And if
The Priest
had his way, more would join their ranks. Gil cursed and pressed his head against his palms. He’d been staring at the damn things for hours, ever since he’d picked up Wade at the precinct. And the fact he hadn’t touched them in the last fifteen minutes was just another indication his mind wasn’t on his job.

Fallon.

Her name filled his mind, echoing through him until all he could see was the image of her face. He’d stopped on the way to station for a quick shower and a change of clothes, not wanting Wade to throw more lewd comments about his relationship, or lack of, with Fallon. And showing up with the scent of her juices clinging to his jeans and his shirt ripped down to his chest was not the sort of action that would keep Wade off his back. The man seemed relentless. Even now Gil could feel him staring at him, trying to figure out what demons Gil was fighting. Or what ravenous thoughts he was conjuring up.

He didn’t need any help thinking about Fallon. She was all he’d thought about since she’d scurried off like a frightened rabbit. While he didn’t mind playing the part of the big, bad wolf, the least she could have done was called him to let him know she’d made it home okay.

Yeah, like she’s going to call you. All she thinks you want from her is a quick hard fuck.

He huffed at the thought, ignoring the way Wade’s eyes flicked in his direction. He’d never been really good at vocalising his feelings. Sure, he could toss out an ‘I love you,’ at a moment’s notice, but really telling someone how much they meant to him was about as easy as catching this bastard was turning out to be. His chest just got too tight, and the words seemed to get stuck in his throat. He’d always relied on Fallon’s sensitivity to read into his actions what he hadn’t been able to tell her.

But all that had changed the moment he’d walked out their door and never returned, leaving only his set of keys as any explanation as to what had happened. She’d called his cell a few times after, but those had stopped quickly when he’d chosen to ignore them. Fallon might have loved him, but she’d known when to back away, and he knew she’d never show him how much he’d hurt her. She was far too stubborn and proud for that.

He sighed, wishing to hell he knew what to do. He wanted to call her, but he knew she’d hang up on him, if she even bothered to answer the phone. And somehow dropping by her place didn’t seem like a good idea. He’d be able to smell her again, and he knew what would happen if he got even a whiff of her scent. He’d ruin another one of her shirts when he ripped it from her body, along with whatever she had on the bottom. God, he hoped she’d be bare on the bottom. Nothing would stop him from dragging her to the floor and pressing inside her soft, wet heat until the emptiness left him and he rode her until neither one of them could walk this time. He obviously hadn’t drained enough of her strength if she was able to ride her bike down the trail, though he’d noticed how shaky she was on it.