Immortal Flame (12 page)

She straightened up and leaned back. “Oh God, he was near my house.”

“I presume that's who he was. I can't be completely sure.” He held her secure in his arms. “Allie, can we sit down? You don't look so good.”

He kept her close until they reached a street-facing park bench. Peter stood over her, scanning the area as Allie leaned forward, put her head in her hands, and took a few deep draws of air. He laid a hand on her upper back and rubbed lightly, taking care not to touch any skin.

After some minutes, she composed herself and stared bleakly at him, her eyes red-rimmed. The torment etched on her haggard features scored his heart.

He sat down, draping his arm behind her on the bench. “Can you tell me what happened?”

“The man triggered another vision.” She frowned at her right hand and shook it vigorously. “I wasn't expecting it, couldn't block it. I tried, but the images came too fast, too hard.”

He squeezed her shoulder through the T-shirt fabric. “What did you see?”

“This guy made your visions seem like preschool playtime. If I saw this guy killing people, then all I can say is that he obviously
liked
it.”

“What?”

“They were bizarre images: a shoe, a lake, a child's bloody hands. And in some of the images, I saw him torture people. I heard—no, I actually felt the screams, the pain. Men, women … children. They were in agony. I can't even describe it all … ” Her hair fell forward as she bowed her head again.

He reached for her, but closed his hand in a fist. “Is it okay if I touch you?”

She sniffed. “You won't hurt me. I've got you blocked. Strange, but it seems easier to do with you right now.”

Peter pushed a lock of light brown hair back as glints of gold reflected in the sunlight. When he touched the soft skin on her cheek, there was only a little sense of connection. Maybe he was getting better at suppressing the memories, or she had become accustomed to his mental presence. He cleared his throat. “How did you get that much information from him? He made contact with you for only a few seconds.”

“I don't know. All the images were instantly in my head. And I can still sense him in my mind. Like a bad aftertaste.”

She shuddered again. Peter tightened his arm around her shoulders and tucked her into his side, where they sat silently.

To any casual observer, they appeared to be a couple simply relaxing on a park bench, enjoying an early spring day, but he knew better. Today, he had failed to protect her. He wouldn't make that same mistake again.

A balding man with a goatee whom Peter recognized as the young soccer player's father strolled over to their bench. “Al?”

“Hi, Bryce.” She popped on sunglasses.

Peter wasn't buying her too-bright tone of voice.

“Are you okay?” Bryce eyed him suspiciously.

Peter kept his arm firmly around her shoulders. “She got sick, and … ”

Allie jumped up from the bench with a quick, thin smile. “Bryce, Peter Blackstone. Peter, Bryce Zachary, my brother-in-law.”

When the two men shook hands, Peter gave him a little more pressure than he should have.

“You, uh, from around here?” Bryce asked.

Think
.

“I had planned to interview for a teaching position at the university when I got into a bad accident.” He motioned toward Allie. “Doctor Al here patched me up, good as new.” He grinned in what he hoped was a disarming expression. Smiling felt unnatural these days.

Bryce crossed his arms over his chest. “So what department at the school?”

“History. I'm a big World War II buff.”

He uncrossed his arms. “Well, you escaped a close call then.”

“Pardon?” Peter blinked.

“The accident. You're the guy who crashed off the interstate and down the embankment last week, right?” Bryce whistled. “You are one lucky guy, walking around healthy and all. Most folks wouldn't have survived that bad of an accident, much less feel fine a week later.”

Peter smiled. “I had an excellent ER physician. And yes, very good luck.”

“You need a ride home or something?” Bryce asked Allie.

“And miss the rest of Quincy's season debut? No way.” Taking a few steps toward the field, she added, “They're getting ready to start the last game. We'd better get back before she thinks we've forgotten her.”

As the kids lined up on the sideline, Bryce turned toward the restrooms. “I'll meet you back there in a minute.”

After Bryce left, Peter stared down at her. “You sure you're all right?”

“Better now, thanks.”

“I'm not sure I believe you.” He placed one finger beneath her chin, appreciating the warmth of her skin and the low-level connection buzz that flowed between them. “So. Can I watch the game with you for a while?”

“So you can keep an eye out for that creep?”

“That's one reason. But the bonus is spending more time with you.”

Color crept into her cheeks, making him smile. When she breathed deeply, he stared at her T-shirt for a moment too long. His pulse jumped.

She cleared her throat. “Come over and cheer on the Antelopes for a while.”

“Antelopes? They're more like neon Oompa Loompas to me.”

“You're probably more accurate.”

As they turned to walk down to the field, a whiff of rotten eggs drifted by his nose.

He froze.
Hell.

Sirens going off in his head, he searched the area. If his hunch was correct, Allie's life was at immediate risk, worse than from the man who had put his hands on her. Peter had to get her out of here.

“Would you excuse me a moment? I need to take care of something. I'll meet you at the field in a few minutes.”

“Of course. Is there something I can do?”

He pretended to be calm. Anything to get her away from him. “No, please go to the field and stay with your family.”

“Is there something wrong?” A line formed between her eyebrows.

“Not at all,” he lied. “I'll be over in a moment.”

After he'd reassured himself that she returned to the sideline with her sister, Peter slowly turned in a full circle. There, between two SUVs, a thin man preened in a side mirror. Peter couldn't miss the sheen of oil on the man's long, black, curled hair.

Damn, the knife on Peter's leg fired up, too, as it recognized its maker.

Jerahmeel looked up from his unabashed perusal and crooked a finger at Peter. He wore a deep purple suit with a maroon ruffle visible from his neck to his chest, a bizarre intersection of forty-years-late style and a garish interpretation of French Revolution chic. However, true to form, not a thread was out of place.

Peter's heart beat a tattoo against his chest wall as he approached his boss. Jerahmeel rarely appeared in person because it sapped too much of his energy. That's why he sent minions. So why had he taken the effort to show up now?

“Yes, my lord Jerahmeel. What may I do for you? Why are you here?” He swept his arm around to casually encompass the mundane human activities taking place in the park.

Jerahmeel's snicker grated like chalk on a board. “Checking in on your assignment.” His thin red lips twisted into a moue of unhappiness. “You don't seem focused on your work.”

“Of course I am, my lord.” Peter ground his teeth.

“Tell me about that lovely
mademoiselle
you are courting.”

“We aren't courting. She helped me after a bad accident, that's all. She's of no consequence.”

Nothing good would come of his boss focusing his attention on Allie. Nothing.

Jerahmeel leaned close and inhaled deeply. “Ah,
parfum de femme
. She smells delicious. Who does she remind me of? Silly memory, I'll think of it soon.”

Maybe Jerahmeel had distracted himself. Peter stood completely still, not breaking the silence. Somehow, he managed not to curl his lip while the sulfur-scented manifestation of Satan groomed himself to purulent perfection. When Jerahmeel finally raised his head to stare at Peter, those coal black eyes were cold and blank.

“You will not allow a
fille
to distract from the task I've set before you.”

Peter locked his legs. “My focus on my work has never been in question.”

Jerahmeel scowled as faint smoke rose from his head.

Hell
.

Peter struggled to stay civil. All he wanted to do was run to Allie and act as a physical shield against this evil creature. “Actually, my lord, I don't know specifically what my assignment is. Would you illuminate me?”

“That's part of the fun, isn't it? Normally the assignment is clear. But I'm bored. I want to see if you can figure out your mission on your own.” He licked his pinkie finger with the tip of his too-red tongue and smoothed a black eyebrow.

“I don't understand.”

“I know you don't.” Smoke coiled from a finger. His eyes glinted like two red embers in the depths of that unnatural stare. “See, you aren't focused enough. So know this—if you continue to pursue your interest in this mortal woman, I will ensure that she is destroyed. To keep you on track, of course.”

Ice flooded Peter's veins—sweet Allie subjected to Jerahmeel's cruelty? “Hold on, there. You're not allowed to touch a mortal.”

“I don't have to. There are other means of facilitating change.” A tiny flame emanated from his middle fingertip. “You understand?”

“Of course. But I also know there are certain rules that bind you from intervening in humans' lives.”

“
Merde
. How do you know this?”

Keep him from thinking about Allie
. “I have well-informed friends.”

“Well, I, too, have well-informed associates, Mr. Blackstone, and they are not bound as I am to silly rules.”

Those silly rules were all that kept innocent humans from being mere nutrition for Jerahmeel. If he skirted the rules on technicalities, all humans were in danger.

Peter squeezed his hand into a fist. Even though his strength would be no match against something like Jerahmeel, Peter would die trying to keep his boss away from Allie. “You will not touch her.”

“I will not have to.” Jerahmeel blew out the flame and straightened his suit jacket before waggling his fingers. “Good day.” In a blink and a whiff of sulfur, he was gone.

Allie had been marked. The attack by the man earlier this afternoon had to be connected. Maybe a precursor. Damn.

Peter might not be worthy of a future with Allie, but he could at least ensure that she lived to have a future of her own. Putting on what he hoped was a carefree—or at least concern-free—expression, he headed to the soccer field.

Allison tried to clear away the hideous images, chafing her arms as though that nasty stalker had covered her in slime. Her life had flipped upside-down. Not only was she fighting a bizarre attraction to an even more bizarre unhuman, but now she had to worry about a crazy man who killed women and children attacking her again. How was that evil man connected to Peter? She experienced similar visions with both men. That resemblance couldn't be coincidence.

She wanted to ask Peter, but he was useless at the moment, locked in intense conversation with Bryce. Peter had casually mentioned playing football at Ohio State, and now thirty minutes later, as one of the biggest football fans around, Bryce was still going on about the virtues of the Pac 10 conference versus the Big 10. She rolled her eyes as she caught a few phrases regarding the “Ducks,” Bryce's beloved alma mater on the western side of the state.

Sarah groaned. “He's lost to me now, isn't he?”

Shaking the memories of the upsetting images, Allison focused on her sister and smiled. “Oh yeah, Bryce meets someone with a Y chromosome who played college football? Good luck getting your husband back anytime soon.”

Sarah studied Peter, who politely listened as Bryce quoted running back stats like Rain Man. “So that's the guy from last week? The car accident? The guy I saw at the hospital?”

Allison nodded.

“The one you had a vision of when you touched him?”

“Yeah, that's the guy.”

“Seems nice.”

Allison crossed her arms over her chest. “They all do, until I see their deaths.”

Sarah lifted her arms, paused, and then hugged her around the neck. “Oh, Al, you'll get this all figured out.”

“Sure I will.”

What a joke. All she wanted was a normal man in her life, only those crazy visions kept intruding. No escape from visions, no intimacy. A pretty good rule, if you considered the alternative. But what about this newfound ability to block others' visions? Could she live a normal life, or was she only setting herself up for even worse pain and failure later?

Enough of this stupid prison.

Enough of letting fear dominate her life.

She squared her shoulders and took in a deep breath of cool, spring air. Sharp and alive, the scent of soil and pine filled her nostrils.

“I'm sick of living like a hermit, terrified of the next painful vision. Now that I can block them, it's time to start living.”

“No time like the present, right?”

“Pardon?”

“Uh, I'm certain by ‘time to start living' you meant that you'd take Quincy off my hands for a few hours. Bryce and I could use some adult time.”

“Adult time, like to discuss the latest bestseller on the list?”

“Something like that.” Sarah called to Quincy, who dashed over.

Allison braced herself mentally and patted her niece on the head. “Want me to take you home?”

Quincy twirled on the tiptoes of her cleats. “The long way home?”

“If you mean stopping at the drive-through for ice cream, then yes.”

“Yippee!”

Peter and Bryce strolled up, still discussing football. Speaking of trapped, her brother-in-law was not relenting with the verbal onslaught of statistics. When Peter winked, her belly flip-flopped.