Eyes to the Soul (5 page)

“C
elina, do you
know who that man was?” Gordon asked, walking into the small waiting room, his voice odd, muted.

Celina opened her eyes, a reflexive habit, and said, “No.”

“Hmmm.” Gordon didn’t sound convinced. “He was looking at you pretty intently.”

“He was just being friendly. Whoever he is he got a phone call and left.”

“As long as he wasn’t bothering you. I came to tell you that Jacob came through the surgery just fine. He’s lost a lot of blood and they will keep a close eye on him overnight in the ICU, but they’re optimistic about his chances for a full recovery.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful news.” She jumped to her feet, her hand instinctively going to her chest. She beamed up at him. “Is there any chance of seeing him?”

“No, not tonight.” The relief in his voice shaded her disappointment. “He needs to rest. Come on, let’s get you a cab.”

“Wait, I have to grab my purse.” She turned back and bent to the floor for her larger-than-any-purse-should-be tote and straightened. “Now I’m good to go.”

“I can’t imagine what you carry inside that thing. It’s big enough for you to almost crawl inside and have a nap.”

“That’s my secret to staying alert all day.” She stumbled and righted herself. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I hadn’t realized how tired I am.”

“Comes from sitting here all night while still in shock yourself. A good night’s sleep will help.”

“I’m fin–” A big yawn caught her by surprise. She moaned lightly when her mouth finally closed. “Sorry, that one almost hurt.”

“Like I said.”

She walked at his side, grateful that she could follow his colors since she hated being led around. Jacob had always ignored that preference, telling her she was being stubborn and too independent. She sighed. At least Jacob was going to be okay. She’d known him for a long time. More than a friendship, they shared music in their soul. Like any creative person, finding someone else to whom the expression of that art meant the same thing was like finding a soul mate without all the highs and lows of a sexual relationship. Yet in a way it was creation at its best. Supported and shared. The lead ball of fear in her stomach broke into small pieces and started to dissolve – finally. She walked taller, straighter, as the weight of this horrific night slipped off her shoulders. She couldn’t help her dead friends, but if there was anything she could do for the others she would be there for them. So what if she was blind? She wasn’t helpless. However, as she collapsed into the back of the cab, she realized how exhausted she really was. A decent night’s sleep and she’d be just fine.

Not likely.

She stiffened, her defenses that she’d let slip in her fatigue slamming back into place.
Go away.

Why would I do that? This is the fun part. The aftermath. All the angst and remorse. See, you could have prevented this.

She gasped.

“What’s the matter?”

A rush of air brushed past her cheek. Was Gordon that close?

“Did you forget something?” He asked from right in front of her as if leaning in close.

“No,” she said quickly. “Sorry, I was just thinking of some things I needed to take care of earlier.” Like hell, but she didn’t dare let on what was happening. Besides, who would believe her?

“Tomorrow is another day. You’ll have lots of downtime now. The show is cancelled until further notice.” He added as he backed away, “Go home and rest.”

She closed the door and the cab slowly pulled away.

She hadn’t considered that. To lose the show wasn’t such an issue, but to not play – that was a big deal. It was her healing. Her outlet.
Stress release
was what some would call it. A connection to the rest of the world in ways she couldn’t explain.

A friend of hers had once suggested her music was so powerful it was magic. She’d laughed at the time, but had often wondered at the joy that coursed through her soul when she played. It healed her. She didn’t think anyone else received the same benefit though. Too bad.

The cab pulled up to the front of her secured apartment building. She opened her door. “Thank you so much for the ride.”

“Do you need a hand in?” the driver asked.

“No, thank you though. I’ll be fine.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” he said doubtfully.

She dredged up a confident smile and said, “I’ll be okay. Thank you.”

And she turned and faced her apartment building. Of course she’d be fine. What else could go wrong this night?

*

Stefan walked outside
into the clear, sparkling night and stopped for a moment to stare up at the twinkling lights. It was truly beautiful and so mysterious. Like so much of the world. He took several deep breaths of fresh air, waiting for the tension and soreness along his back to ease. A holiday would be good. Except when he took a break his damn ghosts went with him too.

He continued to the parking lot and reached his vehicle as Brandt arrived. He waited for his friend to get out. “You should be home with Sam, not here working on more crazy cases.”

“Sam is waiting for me now. If I’d never been called out you couldn’t have pried me from her arms.” Brandt grinned, leaving Stefan no doubt how loving those arms would be. “But as long as we’re both here…”

Stefan smiled slowly. He loved to see his many psychic friends partner up and grow and mature into the type of loving relationships everyone dreams of having. Sam had been one of the most tormented psychics he’d ever met. And one of the most talented.

“How are her lessons going?” Stefan leaned against his car, the light from the lamppost shining on his face.

“She’s doing really well.” Brandt’s face lit up until he caught sight of Stefan’s face. His smile fell away. “What’s wrong? You don’t look so good.”

Stefan shrugged. “Life has been a little rough lately.”

“And yet life has been pretty smooth and easy these last few days – until tonight.”

“Maybe too smooth.” Stefan’s lips quirked. “Too easy.”

Brandt’s gaze sharpened. “Is something stirring?”

“Always,” Stefan responded. “More than usual? Maybe. It’s a little too early to say.”

Brandt crossed his arms and rocked on his heels. “Then I’m glad I brought this file. These are cases
possibly
connected to Sam’s current visions. She’s having weird attacks but isn’t ready to talk about it yet. She
says
she’s not connected to any person at this time – thank God – but she said something weird.”

Stefan leaned forward. Anytime Sam had something weird to say he wanted to hear it.

Brandt continued, “She said someone is walking in between.”

Stefan frowned. “I may have to call her about that. There have been more tears in the energy fields. I don’t have a cause for them.”

“Big tears?” Brandt asked carefully. “As in something evil coming across to raise some major hell?”

“I don’t know,” Stefan said. “It’s strong, it’s focused, but they are all small events. I can’t even say they are connected. But the more of them there are the more concerned I get.”

“Right. If you’re concerned you know I’m terrified. Keep me posted, and please do call Sam. She needs her rest. Maybe talking to you will help.”

Stefan nodded. Sam was a beautiful person inside and out, and her talent taxed her physical body worse than anyone else he knew. He asked, “Now why am I here when I could be home in my own bed?”

“For one, I want to make sure you’re okay. For you to go to a hospital and remain for longer than a few minutes, something must be going on. And from what I understand the energy you have to expend to stay there is brutal, and that means you’re not only exhausted but also very connected to someone involved in that nasty accident. Celina, of course.”

Stefan stared at him, wondering how his life had become cluttered with so many friends. Caring friends. Dare he say
loving
friends? “True. But at this point I think I’ll head home before I drop.”

Brandt grinned. “Sounds like a plan for both of us.” He turned around and reached into the front of his truck, pulling out a brown manila envelope. “This is the file I mentioned a moment ago. I can’t connect the cases but…they are the closest I can come to matching up Sam’s information of these visions. You know how iffy that can be.” He shrugged. “Take it. Have a look at it tomorrow.”

“Now you’re talking.” Stefan stood up and felt the parking lot shift and sway. Damn. He needed to get home. “Tomorrow. I’ll take a look then.”

Brandt handed the thick envelope over. “Are you sure you should be driving?”

Stefan shot him a look, snatched up the envelope, and walked to his car.

*

His focus wavered
a little more. His thoughts blurred and he had a hard time hanging onto them. Brain fog set in. He shuddered. He was losing it. Again.

It was worse this time. And it shouldn’t be. It should have been better. Easier.

He couldn’t let go of the idea that there really was an end to his life.

His mind screamed
no
but the evidence was undeniable. He’d done everything he could but the facts were facts. He was struggling to maintain any kind of existence. And his moments of clarity were too important to waste. But afterwards the effort set him way back. Almost to the same distorted, broken-up beginning again. He hated that. It always took so long to pull himself together.

His energy was spread so thin he had to wonder if that in itself wasn’t the problem.

He really wanted his focus in only one place.

To do that he needed to focus on pulling himself together. He almost laughed, as that was the last thing he could do. Still, if he was spread too thin then it would take up too much energy to keep going on all fronts.

It was time to cut out some of those fronts.

Clean out the not-so-much fun debris in this life and keep the stuff he enjoyed, or at least the ones he had more strength to control. It was an amazing journey, but he’d taken so little time to enjoy it.

And that needed to change.

Determined, he set about analyzing the deadwood in his life. It was time to take a chainsaw and free himself.

C
elina walked gratefully
into her apartment, turned on the light from habit and locked the door. She leaned against it and closed her eyes. Traveling was always stressful, with arriving home a huge relief. After a moment of rest she walked, a little shakily, into her bedroom. She knew it was going to be a bad night. How could it not be?

Once ready for bed she sat cross-legged in the center of her down comforter. She took a deep breath, then another. Using old esoteric techniques she’d learned from her friend Mimi before she died, she slowly worked some of the tension out of her shoulders and spine. She often played music before bed, but tonight she was too tired and too full of sorrow.

“It was bad, wasn’t it?” Mimi asked, her disembodied voice soft and thin.

Celina smiled, wan and weak, but it was a smile at least. Not that her ghostly friend would care. She’d seen her at her best and at her worst.