Eyes to the Soul Page 2

  “Celina, what will you have?”

  She started at Cindy’s question, the word nothing on the tip of her tongue. Bruce spoke up before she could and said, “She’d like a glass of white wine.”

  “I do, do I? Maybe I want something else,” she said. The instant spark of anger felt odd inside. She didn’t want to be here and really didn’t want people answering questions for her – even if they were decent answers.

  What was wrong with her today? She shouldn’t be so waspish. He was only trying to make it easy on her. Like everyone tried to make everything easy on her. There was just no making this…easy.

  I can make it easy. Just let me see.

  No. Never.

  I can do it without you, but it would be more fun with you.

  No. Killing people is not fun.

  Oh, it so is.

  That dry dusty chuckle reverberated inside her head. She trembled.

  Especially when no one knows who I am, the nasty voice whispered. Or what I can do.

  I don’t even know what you can do. I don’t want to know, she cried silently in her mind. How had her life come to this?

  That’s easy. You wanted me here You wanted to have your eyesight back – so I stepped in to help you.

  No. No. She shook her head.

  Oh yes. See, you still don’t believe me. Or understand why. That’s funny. I’m so going to enjoy your reaction when you do find out about me. He laughed. Maybe a little proof is needed.

  What? No. She shook her head, not caring if other people stared at her strangely. She knew she’d become odd this last year, but who could blame her? She’d lost her fiancé a year ago from an aneurysm. She’d been involved in a serious car accident three weeks later. And it had been bad enough she’d ended up with several busted ribs and a head injury, with her eyesight compromised by the trauma that even surgery hadn’t been able to fix. Then to top it all off, she had somehow collected a vengeful ghost. One who wanted her to believe he could do so much.

  She was being haunted. If such a thing were possible.

  No proof. Please, she whispered in her head. I believe you.

  No. I don’t think you do. So give me a moment. I’ve been planning something like this for a while. It’s the perfect time. This way you’ll know for sure.

  The weird blackness left her mind. Thank heavens. She needed help. Someone who could understand what she was going through. But it wasn’t exactly something she could go to a doctor for. And a psychologist would have a heyday inside her head. Weren’t there enough people in there already?

  Bruce lifted his glass beside her, the ice smaller, softer, clinking softly along the glass. “Another. I want a couple of tequila shooters,” he cried. His suggestions brought on screams for shooters.

  Celina sank back into the booth beside Jacob. She wanted to leave. She didn’t know what kind of proof this evil thing inside of her was going to offer, but she wanted no part of it.

  “Are you okay, Celina? You look ill.”

  “I’m not feeling well. Please, I know I haven’t finished my wine.” In fact, she hadn’t touched it. “But I’d really like to go home.”

  Cheers broke out beside her. Instinctively she turned. “What are they doing now?” she asked.

  “Just tequila shots.” The tone of his voice sounded slightly odd. She stilled, her mind racing to turn the suspicions and fear squeezing her chest into something calming. She had to get out of here. Now. Urgency had her lurching to her feet. She struggled to find the entrance to the pub. She stumbled into one person and bounced off another. “Sorry,” she said. “Sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just trying to get some fresh air.”

  “Celina, wait.”

  But she couldn’t. An inner drive propelled her forward to the entranceway, only she was jostled from one side to the other with no room for her walking stick. And the entranceway was no longer where it should have been. She hit a wall. Hands out, she scrambled back as far as she could down that wall.

  Under all the loud music and laughing a roar built. No one appeared to notice. She tilted her head, listening as the sound rapidly grew.

  In the background, as if in a movie on slow motion, she heard the first screams. Then more.

  Then the sound of a huge roar. A crash. Panicked cries. Glass shattering, sprinkling down on everything and everyone.

  Finally silence. The horrible, deafening silence.

  Celina waited, shock, fear, terror holding her locked in place. She couldn’t see. She could only hear. She bowed her head. Fatalistically, she turned ever so slowly to stare blindly at the blank chaos in front of her. She could only imagine the scene.

  A woman screamed. And screamed. A man groaned. Then another one off to the side started to cry.

  “Help me,” a woman whispered close to Celina. “Please help me.”

  Celina reached out a hand in her general direction and was jerked forward as the woman clutched at her and tried to pull. “I’m here. But I don’t know what happened.”

  “I don’t know.” The woman started to sob. “Help me, please. I’m hurt.”

  Instinctively Celina crouched at the injured woman’s side, patting her hand gently. There wasn’t much she could say, but she knew comforting sounds were coming from her mouth.

  People moved slowly amidst the cries of pain and the weeping. Something dreadful had happened but she had no idea what could have taken place.

  A man in front and off to the left of her said, “A large truck drove into the front of the pub. He’s halfway inside the damn room. He’s hit dozens and probably killed half of those.”

  Oh no. Her heart seized as she turned to face the chaos. “Jacob? Bruce? Are you okay?”

  There was no answer.

  “Jacob!” she screamed. “Where are you?”

  She couldn’t hear any response over the building noise as people cried out for help and still others wept for their friends and family.

  She tried to control her panic. Oh God. No. Please, not my friends.

  She didn’t dare try to find them in the mess. She gazed in the direction of the injured woman, her hand gently patting her on the shoulder. She’d never felt so helpless. How had this just happened? And why? And did the predator have anything to do with it? Her heart pounded in her chest and she could barely breathe. And that’s when she heard something else.

  Silence – from the woman whose hand she held. Silence, where moments before there’d been raspy breath. Silence, where moments before there’d been broken weeping. Celina stroked up the woman’s arm to her throat and pressed two fingers against her sticky skin.

  And bowed her head. The woman was dead.

  No, her heart screamed in denial. This couldn’t be happening. They’d just come for a fun hour of celebration. Not this life-changing disaster.

  She’d already survived one of those. She wouldn’t wish anything like that on anyone. And never twice.

  Underneath her sorrow and budding grief, she heard that hateful laugh inside her head.

  What do you think? Was that enough proof?

  She froze. Oh God. No!

  Oh yes. Do you believe me now?

  Chapter 2

  Stefan Kronos bolted awake and out of bed. He was halfway across the room before he realized it. Panicked, he spun, searching for the danger. And stilled.

  He was alone.

  In his own room.

  He rested in place, his heart slowing, listening. Reassured that there was no immediate danger, he ran his fingers through his rumpled hair and growled, “Now what?”

  He’d barely slept an hour. And not for a lack of trying.

  But as was so often the case, his wants weren’t important.

  Timing was.

  The more he tried to force the information of what was wrong, the further back the elusive knowledge in his conscience slipped. Out of sight. Out of his mind. Out of his reach.

  He strode to the tall floor-to-ceiling windows and stared out into the night. What the hell had woken
him this time?

  Instinctively he sent out a silent probe searching for the direction of the distress. He knew it was a cry for help. But it was one he didn’t recognize. At least not in this form. It came raw, terrified, and coated in other energies.

  Unless it was another psychic like those that had been filling his house and cluttering up his life lately. He loved them all, but there was no doubt that the landscape of his life was very different than it had been a decade ago.

  Then he’d been alone and unknown. Now the opposite – in both cases – was true.

  He stared out into the dark sky, watching as the clouds played peek-a-boo with the moon. Something was wrong somewhere. Then again, something was wrong somewhere every minute of the day. Unfortunately. He dropped his forehead against the glass, relaxed his guard and sank deeper into his soul to let his senses roam free.

  His energy slipped outward, upward into the midnight of the sky, looking, tasting, feeling the wrongness. Behind him the television turned on. He stilled but didn’t turn around. He’d sent out energy in all directions with too much force again. Some of it had turned on his electronics. Not unexpected. Not normal, though. And better than what could have happened; he often fried the electronics.

  “We bring you breaking news. A full-size truck has driven into the popular nightclub Chico’s downtown on Robstown Street. Reports are still coming in. There are ambulances on the scene. We do have a report that several members of the Portland Orchestra were in attendance celebrating their new season.” The newscaster paused. Stefan slowly turned. He stared, his heart frozen, his energy thinning as it swirled in shock.

  Celina.

  “This just in…we have established that several members of the orchestra have been injured,” the newscaster continued. “Two fatalities are confirmed. We’ll bring you more as we get the details.”

  Stefan collapsed to his knees. Oh dear God. Please, not Celina.

  Surely he’d have known if she were dead. Then he remembered the cry that had woken him from a deep sleep. Could it have been her? He should have recognized it if it had been, although the distress signal had been coming from the same general direction.

  To find out for sure he needed to get to the scene. To the hospital. Where he could find her. Help her. Locating her wouldn’t be a problem. He already sensed her thin, wispy energy from here. He’d visited her enough on the etheric level to be able to find her anywhere in the world. But he wasn’t sure he could stand the thought of finding out she was injured and in need of something beyond his capabilities. Of all his friends Dr. Maddy was the only one that might be able to help if she was seriously injured.

  And we need to find that out first. Don’t panic until we know. Dr. Maddy’s warm, compassionate voice slipped into his mind. I’ll make the calls. You wait for me. Don’t rush down there. You aren’t family or friends, and you won’t be allowed in to see her. Think, Stefan. She doesn’t even know you.

  Stefan tilted his head back to stare up at the massive glass dome above his head. No, she didn’t know him. Not who he was now at least.

  Dr. Maddy slipped out of his mind, for once leaving him feeling bereft. He’d been blessed to have so many talented friends to call on.

  And there’d always been her. The love of his life. And now that life may have been cut down before he had a chance to see her in person.

  He knew his thoughts made him sound like a madman. And he’d done a lot to keep the others in the traditional world from finding out about his crazy mind. He’d spent time in a place where he was supposed to get help. Oh, he’d gotten help, all right – just not the kind he’d needed. Thankfully he’d quickly learned to keep his mouth shut. He’d left there as fast as he could and had never looked back.

  Dr. Maddy spoke quietly inside his head. She’s injured, but not badly. Cuts from glass as she was trying to help the victims. She’s already been checked over. She’s emotionally traumatized but not physically. She will be fine.

  Thank you, he whispered in a prayer-like voice. Thank you so much for finding out.

  Now rest. She has a lot to deal with. Send her some loving energy, but don’t go to the hospital – you’ll only be in the way.

  Understood.

  And she left.

  Stefan stood up, ran his fingers through his hair again and tried to take stock. He was still shaky inside. He wondered if that had been her fear he’d felt earlier. There’d been no reason for her to call out to him. She didn’t know him. Or had she been transmitting blindly to anyone who’d listen? She’d have to be a strong transmitter for that to happen. Due to her blindness, Celina’s other senses would likely have become stronger to compensate. She might have picked up on his energy and sent out a call for help. He’d love to think it had been on purpose, but he had no reason to go there.

  He’d been the one checking in on her, not the other way around.

  It had always been Stefan peeking into her life to make sure she was doing okay, to connect in the only way he could. Still, he should have been able to recognize her energy if she had been the one calling out to him – at least he thought he would have. But context was everything. In a traumatic setting she’d have called out for anyone. The energy pathways he’d forged would have made it easier to get her message. And depending on her psychic abilities, she might have been coated in bits and pieces of those she cared about, completely changing the look and feel of her energy.

  There’d been a sense of violence surrounding that cry. Like an attack of some kind.

  He mulled over the accident. Could the fear have been one last cry from the driver of the truck before he’d smashed into the pub? Had he survived the crash? If so, Stefan wanted to talk to him. He would have to wait and see. As his senses returned to normal and he got a clearer understanding of why he’d been pulled awake, he realized there’d been some movement in the universal energy. A tear in the structure of life. A violence done on the etheric level.

  He frowned, his senses stirring. As everything was connected, so too was this connected to the fabric of their lives. Everyone’s lives. There was evil out there. He’d seen the proof of it. Once he’d known, there’d been no going back. Innocence was no longer an option.

  The boogeyman did exist and in his world, he lived on many different planes of existence.

  Stefan walked over to his computer and turned it on. Still dressed in his pj bottoms he sat down to check the news. Maybe they would provide the clues he was looking for. He knew one thing for sure: there was no going back to sleep tonight.

  *

  Samantha Blair gasped, then groaned as she burst through the vision. That was all her newly learned control would allow. Her intentions were simple. Sink into the vision, grab the information she needed – if any – to help the dying person to let go and step out. Easy, right? It was when Stefan had explained it. In practice? Not so much.

  Be in control, Stefan had said to her during one of their training sessions. Remember, Sam, this is your energy. Don’t let fear stop you from controlling it as you are meant to control it.

  Consciousness broke through and Sam’s eyes opened. She shuddered, a film of sweat forming on her skin. So much better with a bit of control, and yet so much worse – she still couldn’t do anything about these visions.

  A warm arm slipped across her ribs and tugged her up close to a familiar broad chest.

  That was one thing that was so much better. Brandt Sutherland. She’d been alone for so long. Now…she had a man who loved her. He understood what she went through on a regular basis with her crazy psychic abilities. Who could possibly want to connect with victims while they were being murdered?

  A cold nose nudged her cheek.

  “Hey, Soldier. I’m okay, boy,” she murmured softly, reaching out a hand to stroke the huge dog’s muzzle. Moses, her other dog, stood at Soldier’s side and whimpered in the back of his throat.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you guys up.”

  “What about me?” Brandt’
s warm voice drifted hot against her neck. “Did you mean to wake me up?”

  His lips trailed up her throat before drifting over to explore her ear. Sam smiled, love welling up from deep inside.

  “I’m always happy to wake you up, my love.”

  His arms clenched around her. She rolled toward him and reached up to meet his lips with a deep, soul-stirring kiss of her own.

  God, she loved this man.

  *

  Celina sat in a daze. The hospital bustled around her, the noise overwhelming her. The pain. The suffering. The grief. She tried to block out the shouts, cries, and incessant weeping. She understood. She really did, but there was no way to survive the onslaught of pain without closing herself off. No way to find the peaceful core she so desperately needed to keep oriented in her physical space. People who could see didn’t understand how hard it was to be blind and upset.

  She got turned around, misjudged distances, and misunderstood certain sounds. She needed to be grounded to do anything and even more so to take a trip. One more reason why she didn’t travel as much as she could.

  She also didn’t have a guide dog, although many friends had suggested it. But getting one meant accepting that her condition was permanent. And she couldn’t do that. Wouldn’t do that.

  Her doctor also wouldn’t sign off on her condition. As far as he was concerned she should be able to see. He’d done everything right. It was only Celina that wasn’t doing what she needed to be doing.

  And he was so right about that. She didn’t dare do what she needed to do.

  Plus, there was no way she could explain why.

  “Celina, are you doing okay? Are you sure you want to be here and not resting at home?” Gordon, the ex-manager of the Myrtle Auditorium, home to the orchestra – and a very good friend – stood in front of her. “Let me call a cab and get you home.” His hand brushed down her cheeks, the warmth of his palm and fingers sending off sparks. “Please, Celina. You can’t do anything. The doctors are working as hard as they can to help our friends.”