02 Blue Murder (33 page)

I ignored him, swinging my legs out of the
car, determined to see my rescuer. But standing up wasn’t easy. My
strange, immodest garb presented no problem – my dress, which would
have barely qualified as a chemise in 1870, clung to my body
without hindering movement. My shoes were another matter.
Accustomed to slippers, I tried to stand on chunky black heels and
turned an ankle, falling just as a tall figure in a cashmere coat
approached.

“
Ted,” I cried, hitting the
rough asphalt with my hands and knees. It wasn’t just the shoes
that cost me my balance. My legs were rubbery, head spinning,
forehead throbbing with fresh, sticky warmth.

Strong hands gripped me under each arm,
raising me up. Taking in black boots and a tan cashmere coat, I
lifted my face, eager. “Ted, it’s me! Cassandra!”

The most striking woman I’d ever seen stared
back at me. Amid the frenzy of lights – blue police spinners,
halogen headlights, red ambulance flashers – I realized the woman’s
long, straight hair was the same brown shade as Ted’s. Her eyes
were the same pale green, her mouth wide and well shaped. She was
even Ted’s height, over six feet, taller in those heeled boots. But
Ted’s granite features could never be made female. And so this
woman’s lips were fuller, her jaw line softer, her nose altogether
different. Not Ted, but a feminine reinterpretation of the
original.

“
My name’s Hayden.” She was
still supporting me. “Hayden Cross. I must have been unconscious
for a couple of minutes. When I came around, did I do anything—”
her voice faltered as she glanced back at the doorless, windowless
Porsche. “Odd?”

“
Are you … can you be…?” I
whispered, staring into her eyes, the only unaltered feature
between her and Ted. The Order’s philosophy had been purely
materialistic, but our telepathic rivals in the East, the Empaia,
believed in reincarnation, in the refinement of souls over several
lifetimes. Did that explain how I could be both Cassandra and
Rachel? The reappearance of Lucy, Christopher and Dominic as modern
people? Ted re-embodied as a woman?

It was too much. The whirling in my head won
out, sending me into Hayden’s arms as darkness overwhelmed me.

Chapter Two

I woke up in St. Mary’s ER, on a gurney in a
small treatment room. My head ached. So did my knees and right
ankle.

“
Bran?”

Brannon, dozing in a chair across from my
bed, sat up straight. Her matte-black hair was smooshed and limp;
most of her magenta lipstick had transferred onto the mouth of her
Dr. Pepper bottle. As she stood up, I saw her lace shrug was
missing and her black velvet dress was speckled with white powder.
One sleeve was bloodstained. All in all, she looked like hell.

“
Rachel?” Brannon’s
expression was guarded but hopeful. “How do you feel?”

I was already off the gurney, careful not to
put much weight on my right ankle as I threw my arms around her. My
blue paper gown flapped open in the back, but fortunately I had
panties on beneath. “I’m fine. What about you? What happened?”

Brannon pulled back. “Don’t you
remember?”

I didn’t. But where my cousin’s hand touched
my flesh I felt the weirdest jolt of connection. Then it came back
to me: a tractor-trailer spread on its side across four lanes of
I-75, cutting straight through the heart of Greater Cincinnati.
Friday night traffic, the week before Christmas. Despite weather
warnings, every vehicle had been traveling as fast as possible,
hell-bent on eleventh-hour shopping or holiday parties. I
remembered the Porsche zipping past me, changing lanes twice before
gliding ahead of the pack. The semi, the first to hit the black
ice, had jackknifed. The Porsche, going too fast to stop, had swung
wide as the trailer hooked backward, its cab rising into the air.
Then the Porsche hit the same patch of invisible ice and spun out
of control …

It was too much. Overwhelmed, I jerked away,
aware of an ache in my forehead. Reaching up, I found thick gauze
held in place by surgical tape.

“
Rach, you’d better sit
down.”

“
Yeah.” I allowed my cousin
to guide me back onto the gurney, listening as Brannon explained it
all, starting with the jackknifing tractor-trailer. When she got to
the part about the Porsche exploding, I stopped her. “What do you
mean, exploded? Like a fireball?”

“
No, it just sort of blew
apart. The owner’s lucky she wasn’t killed.”

“
So if I was pinned in my
car, how’d I get out?” Even as I asked, I almost knew. There was a
strange barrier in my head, holding some specific part of me at
bay.

“
Dr. Cross – the Porsche
driver – forced the door and pulled you free.”

“
Doctor?”

“
Eye doctor – optometrist or
something. Called one of her colleagues to look after you.” Brannon
indicated the surgical dressing on my forehead. “Not a med student
or a resident. A real plastic surgeon from Indian Hills.” That was
Cincinnati’s most prestigious neighborhood. “Guess Dr. Cross is
praying to God you don’t sue her.”

The idea of suing Dr. Cross for being
unlucky enough to hit black ice was ridiculous. As long as my
insurance covered the Mazda’s repairs and my hospital bills, I
didn’t need anything more. “I’m impressed she cared enough to stick
around.” That felt significant to me somehow, though I wasn’t sure
why.

“
And she’s not the only one
who stayed. The guys are in the waiting room. Josh and Zach.”
Brannon emphasized their names with a gleam in her eye. She was a
true aficionado of the XY brigade. Brannon appreciated hot guys,
built guys, smart guys and funny guys. She could find something
worthwhile in almost any male. Even the pasty nerds in her
accounting classes were, in Brannon’s opinion,
adorkable.

“
Josh and Zach are
roommates,” Brannon continued. “And get this – they both go to UC!
Don’t know how we never ran into them. Zach, the dark one, is a
grad student. Josh, the blond, is still an undergrad, even though
he’s pushing thirty.” Brannon giggled. She was merciless with
herself when it came to grades and achievements, but rated male
accomplishments on a sliding scale. In Josh’s case, long blond hair
and piercing blue eyes would make up for a lot.

I tried to see Josh in my memory, but
something strange happened. Instead of Josh, I saw Christopher
Lehman, very similar except for his pointed sideburns, broadcloth
suit, and gold pocket watch. Then I tried to remember Zach, but saw
Dominic Belden – handsome in all-black evening dress except for his
white cravat, waistcoat and gloves …

I felt an unsettling tug in my chest. Zach –
Dominic – had meant something to me in 1870, but I didn’t dare
focus too closely on those emotions. I’d just snapped back to my
real self, to modern-day Rachel. What if thinking about the past –
Cassandra’s feelings for Dominic – plunged me down the rabbit hole
again?

“
Have I been unconscious
this whole time?”

“
No.” Brannon looked
surprised. “You’ve been awake. Talking to the EMTs, the plastic
surgeon, everybody.”

“
Then why can’t I
remember?”

“
Um, well, that’s why we’re
still here.” Brannon nodded toward the digital wall clock, which
read 12:32. “Waiting on a psych consult.”

I went cold. “Why? Did I act nuts or
something?”

Brannon nodded.

“
Oh. Okay.” What else could
I say? I pasted on what I hoped was a completely sane expression.
“I’m fine now. Really. Whatever shook loose in my skull has
settled.”

“
Oh, good,” Brannon burst
out, unable to hide her relief, “because all that crap about
Cassandra Fullbright Masters and the Order was freaking me
out.”

“
Cassandra Fullbright
Masters?” The moment I said the name aloud, I knew who Cassandra
was. She was me. Had been me, anyway, almost a hundred and fifty
years ago, during the heart of the Victorian era. At the very end
of the Order. When ordinary humans still ruled in name only, guided
by puppetmasters who read their innermost thoughts and adjusted
them accordingly …

Until the
rebellion
, I thought, the knowledge
returning to me from deep within.
Until
the Order collapsed and all the Talents died out …

“
You know, I didn’t actually
go crazy.” It pissed me off that Brannon might think so, even for
half a minute. “I was channeling my past life, the person I used to
be.”

This wasn’t the kind of announcement I
usually went around making, either to Brannon or to the world in
general. Still, I expected more from my cousin than what I got.

“
Okay, Rach. Sure. When the
doctor gets here, let’s see what he says.”

“
Bran!” I jumped off the
gurney, wincing as the impact rocked my sore right ankle. “You of
all people should be sympathetic!”

Brannon’s eyes narrowed as if that was a
particularly low blow. And maybe it was. Paranormal phenomena had
cost Brannon a great deal. Her side of the family was filled with
psychics, most of them phonies, a few of them real. Brannon’s mom
had spent her entire life trying to make a living off her so-called
psychic powers. First as an all-purpose medium, then as a spiritual
adviser and finally as a freelance ghost hunter. She’d walked out
on Brannon and her dad for good when Brannon was six, all because
of a clairvoyant vision. Not one of hers, which were all fake,
anyway, but one of Brannon’s that proved to be quite real.

I knew the story well. A little boy had
climbed into a broken deep freeze, only to be sealed inside. No one
had heard him scream and plead for release except Brannon, who
awakened from a nap describing a child in need of rescue. Her
mother had scoffed, but Brannon’s father had believed. He’d scoured
the neighborhood until he found the house his daughter described,
located the deep freeze and rescued the boy. Hailed as a hero, Mr.
Murray gave full credit to his daughter’s clairvoyance. The
phenomenon made the papers and the national news. Even though
Brannon’s mom was a phony, her daughter was the real deal. Which
must have constituted an unforgiveable betrayal, since Mrs. Murray
left town two weeks later and hadn’t contacted Brannon since.

“
I am sympathetic,” Brannon
said. “Look, Rach. We were in a bad crash. If you got confused, no
one can blame you. But there’s nothing wrong with me. So if I let
you skedaddle without getting checked out, I’ll be
responsible.”

I groaned. Typical Brannon – her maturity
level was oppressive. My own parents weren’t half so involved. Even
now, my mom was on a tropical cruise while my dad built a love nest
in Arizona for his second wife. Not that I would’ve had it any
other way. I was twenty-one and blissfully free of parental
interference. Except, of course, for my cousin and roomie’s
watchful eye.

“
What did I say that sounded
so crazy?” I sank back on the gurney to take the weight off my
ankle.

Brannon’s lips twisted. Her mouth always
pulled to the side when she didn’t know what to say.

“
Seriously. If I’m about to
be committed, I deserve to hear why. It’s only fair.”

“
Fair” was Brannon’s weak
spot. She couldn’t tolerate injustice of any kind, much less
participate in it. So she spilled it all.

“
What you did, it’s called
telepathy,” she explained. Though always the most reluctant of
psychics, never advertising her gift or charging anyone for help,
Brannon had mastered all the metaphysical lingo. “I didn’t just
hear your voice in my head, I felt your will.” She folded her arms
protectively across her chest. “Like I had to obey, or something
bad would happen.”

As I took all that in, she told me the rest.
Calling for someone named Ted, I’d fainted in Hayden’s arms …

There was a brisk knock and a young doctor
stuck his head in the room. He looked nice enough, unthreatening,
with wispy hair and earnest eyes. He didn’t want to scare me. At
the same time – and I just knew this as easily as I picked up his
cologne scent and shirt color – he planned to admit me for
schizophrenia.

“
So, you know what other
people are thinking? Tell me about it,” the young doctor
said.

“
I can’t really hear
people’s thoughts,” I said, locking eyes with the young doctor. “I
was just dreaming or something. Now that I’m awake, I’m
fine.”

The doctor hesitated. And with only the
slightest effort, I understood why. He’d spoken to me while the
plastic surgeon sutured my forehead. Concentrating, I saw myself
through his eyes, my long brown hair wild, my eyeliner and lipstick
smeared. I was babbling about Belgrave Square, my uncle Harry’s
collection of brilliant steam-powered devices, how he’d reared me
to be independent, to embrace technology instead of fear it, to
look to the future …

Jeez, no wonder he wants
to commit me.
I was embarrassed by how I’d
sounded, even if every word was true. If only I could wipe away
that memory, erase it like marks on a chalkboard.

The young doctor gasped, eyes widening.
Staggering, he fumbled wildly, found a stool and sat down hard.

“
Oh, God! Are you all
right?” Brannon rushed to his side.

“
I’m … not sure. Are you my
patient?” The young doctor’s eyes wandered to me. “Or you? You’re
the one in the hospital gown …”

“
Not for long.” I was so
shocked I could barely force the words out. I’d done more than
eliminate that single memory. I’d hurt someone who’d only wanted to
help me.