Immortal Flame (11 page)

The wind sensation surrounded Allison, like with Peter, but it felt smoother, softer. It didn't batter her this time.

Peripherally, she became aware of Sarah's firm grip through their joined hands, but no pain exploded with the contact. How strange. The death visions always came with discomfort, but this was a warm and curious sensation. Maybe because there was no death visible, the vision didn't hurt.

Allison dove deeper, pushing through the diaphanous layers. A particular bright light formed into Quincy as a baby, and a warm, hopeful glow of new motherhood expanded in Allison's chest. A lump formed in her throat.

Digging deeper, she caught a glimpse of a younger Bryce. Allison shouldn't be seeing such passion and love in his eyes. That gaze was meant for her sister, but Allison gained all of her perspective. Brief jealousy twisted the image into something ugly until she took a deep breath in and out.

Another layer deeper, she struggled to move the heavier curtain, but she finally succeeded. There was her mother, curled up on the carpet after a bender, sweaty and moaning. Sharp sadness stabbed Allison in the heart. It was her fault that Mom suffered; it was her visions that pushed Mom over the edge.

Go deeper
, Sarah's whispered voice drifted through the sound of rushing air.

I don't want to see.

You need to.

The curtains she moved for the last layer were heavy lead. There he was. But her father's withered body did not appear, dissolving beneath the chemotherapy, as Allison had remembered him.

Instead, the image Sarah kept locked deep in her memory was simple and stunning.

They were all having a picnic together, the last day together as a normal family. Allison, Sarah, Mom, and Dad. Before the visions started. Before everything changed.

Allison hadn't noticed the glances her parents gave each other, the way her mother's eyelashes batted or how her father quirked an eyebrow and winked. But this was Sarah's memory. Their parents twined normal, healthy hands together. Mom rested her head on Dad's shoulder and sighed. When ants threatened the basket of food, Dad jumped up and swatted the intruders off the blanket, grinning the whole time.

The smell of grass and soil slid into Allison's mind. She and Sarah had rolled down the little hill over and over again, their girlish knees and hips tumbling until neither of them could walk in a straight line. They had collapsed in laughter, surrounded by the leaves shushing in the wind and insects buzzing nearby. Above them, on the hillside, Mom's and Dad's faces shone.

The memory of the last perfect day that marked the end of a perfect life.

Enough
.
Quit wishing for the past.
For what she could never have.

Pulling back out of her sister's mind, Allison squinted in the bright sunlight. The pleasant cacophony of scurrying kids eventually brought her back to the here and now. She let go of Sarah's hand.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Her sister's eyes shone with tears.

More pain. The theme of Allison's life. “Oh God, I'm so sorry, I'll never do that again.”

“No, it's okay, Al. Some of those images were beautiful. I had buried those memories.”

“I didn't hurt you?”

“Not at all. It was weird. I knew you were there, but then pictures, flashes of memories, appeared like I'd thought of them myself. That's really cool.”

Allison cringed at the pain lancing through her forehead. “I don't know if ‘cool' is the right term. Hey, do you feel a sense of me now?”

“Like in my head?”

“Yes. I still get a little whispering sense of you in my own mind. Can you feel me there?”

Sarah frowned. “No, nothing at all; it's like nothing happened. Is that normal?”

Allison shrugged and stuffed her hands in her pockets. “Who knows?”

“Wow, your power really has changed. Who would've thought? A brand new ability. Good for you.”

“I don't know about it being good, but thanks for letting me experiment on you.” Allison threw her arms around her sister's neck, then stepped back, blinking away her burning tears. They stood in silence while the soccer game continued.

A new tingle began on the back of Allison's neck and crept up into her scalp, bringing her head up to scan the area.

A man in a leather jacket stood in the next field over. His crew cut and gaunt jawline gave him a severe appearance, even at a distance, but he seemed bulky beneath the jacket. He had some tics, too, repetitively touching his ears and the back of his head. The man couldn't hold still, and he wasn't watching the games. He seemed to be searching the sidelines and talking to himself. Maybe he had some mental illness. Hard to tell at this distance.

The tingle continued but had an uncomfortable edge to it, unlike the mental echoes from Peter and Sarah. She rubbed the nape of her neck as breathing became difficult.

The recent connection with Sarah must have put Allison's nerves on edge. Too warm, Allison shrugged out of the fleece and laid it on a nearby camp chair.

Focusing on the game, she forced a smile over her lips and took a few slow, cleansing breaths. Better.

When she glanced toward the other field, there was no sign of the man. Probably nothing but her hyperactive imagination, revved up from the experiment with her new powers. She pushed the last vestiges of unease to the side and refused to consider anything except enjoying the rest of the lovely day with her family.

Peter had driven around La Grande for several days, hunting the man from Allie's house. The guy must have gone to ground. Maybe he left town, although that answer in no way satisfied Peter.

Focusing on the search was like walking through sludge. He literally couldn't get Allie out of his head. The memory of her sweet lips, her scent, her soft body in his arms superimposed itself on everything he saw. He had to use his time searching for the stalker, although he would much rather spend the time with Allie. All he wanted was to possess Allie's body and mind again and let the soothing connection assuage the evil he had become. The impulse horrified him. He'd never been on the verge of losing control, or at least not this close to the edge.

Beyond the distracting memory of her soft, sexy body, that mental connection continued, buzzing in the background of his thoughts. Did she have a similar feeling? He hadn't had time to ask there on her porch. Claire had once looked at him with horror and fear like that. At least with Claire, his sacrifice made up for her rejection.

Being around Allie was different. Claire had been a sweet and loving wife, but Peter had been more of a father figure to his young bride. Allie possessed a unique strength of character, no less sweet but a contrasting quality. Like fine champagne, he craved more of her effervescence.

He scrubbed at his jaw. Damn it, he needed to look for the stalker, not moon over a woman.

Driving through the Eastern Oregon University campus, he slowed down to avoid the children running around. A “Soccer Jamboree” sign flapped in the early spring breeze. Mindful of the kids, he traveled down the street until a familiar green Subaru Outback caught his attention. Parking nearby, he joined the spectators at the fields.

The tree-lined street afforded some cover as he peered from behind his sunglasses into the crowd. When he spotted Allie at the end of one field, her hips encased perfectly in form-fitting jeans, his gut clenched. The long-sleeved T-shirt might've hidden her curves, but he knew better. His fingers spread out, recalling how her skin flowed under his hands. She stood next to the woman he'd seen the other day in the ER. He allowed himself a tight smile at their spirited cheering for an orange-uniformed girl waving to them—the princess from the ER.

Positioned far enough away that he wouldn't be recognized, Peter remained close enough to observe. When the young girl ran up to hug her parents and Allie and then skipped back to the game, jealousy tightened its fist around his throat until he couldn't swallow. His was a pathetic existence devoid of anything real or good. So what emotions remained? Bitterness and lust.

Outstanding
.

He studied the field and street. On the next field over, a man stood off by himself, adjusting his jacket over thick shoulders and looking around with wide eyes. Only he wasn't watching the game. Peter traced the direction of the man's gaze.

Allie.

Peter's spine went ramrod stiff.

His fists clenched.

Hell. The man in the leather jacket stared intently at her. Was this the guy outside her house? Peter grabbed the tree until bark shredded beneath his fingers as he kept the man in his sights. He wanted to race over and make the man stop … stop what? Watching a game? Watching spectators? Maybe Peter's overprotective instincts blinded him to normal life. There was no way to prove that man did anything wrong. Peter would have to continue to observe.

After the game ended, the little girl ran over for an exuberant recap, judging by the clapping, high fives, and hugs all around. Searing acid boiled in his stomach. Family. Love. Two things he could never have.

Allie handed Ivy's leash to the other woman and strode toward the sports complex's bathroom near the road. Slinking behind a tree, Peter peered around. The bounce in Allie's step radiated life and energy. The wiggle in her backside evoked more carnal feelings in him.

With effort, Peter dragged his eyes away from Allie's trim form. Where was the man in the leather jacket? He searched again.

Right as Allie turned onto a concrete hallway between the restrooms, Peter caught a glimpse of the man dodging around the opposite side. Instincts screaming an alarm, Peter took off at his quickest human walk, trying not to draw attention but wanting to move faster.

Allie's pain exploded inside his mind, staggering him forward two steps.

Her scream reverberated inside his head, turning his blood to ice.

No longer caring if anyone saw him, Peter covered the distance in mere seconds. As he skidded around the corner, Allie cried out, her shriek muffled by the cinderblock walls and cheering crowds nearby. His vision went red, and he heard only a howl of air in his ears.

The stocky man with the buzz cut gripped Allie's hand in what would appear to an observer as an amiable handshake, but her pain echoed through the mental connection, staggering Peter backwards a few steps. Stark, desperate terror clear in her wide eyes, Allie pulled at her hand, but it remained trapped in the man's grip. Her pupils constricted. Swirls of gold in her green, bulging eyes redefined horror as she gasped for air with a strangled gurgle.

The man shot Peter a nasty grin, and his thin lips curled in feral pleasure. “She's interesting, this innocent. She'll be a tasty, tasty treat. Yummy, yummy, yummy.” Spittle formed at the corners of his snarling mouth as the man pulled her toward him, his tongue darting out.

Peter couldn't think straight over the roar of rage in his mind. “Get away from her!”

He leapt.

The man sneered and shoved Allie forward. She would have hit her head on the concrete if Peter hadn't grabbed her shoulders to slow her fall. Tight wheezes escaped past pursed lips as she crumpled forward onto hands and knees. When Peter looked up again, there was no trace of the gaunt-faced man. Torn, he fought between his impulse to run after the man and kill him and the instinct to help Allie.

“Allie?” He eased her into a sitting position in the open walkway. She sagged against the rough wall.

Her choked sob tore him in two.

Peter ran his hands over her, searching for injuries. “What did he do to you? Are you hurt?”

Her skin was the color of paper ash. She recoiled until she finally focused on him. “I'm going to be sick.” Struggling to her feet, she staggered into the women's bathroom.

Peter helped her into a stall, supporting her as she knelt and vomited, her lithe frame shaking. He brushed her long hair back and handed her a paper towel to wipe her face.

He would kill that man for touching her.

When she flinched, he relaxed the grip pinching her shoulder, the grip he wished were around that man's neck.

After her breathing calmed, he helped her stand and they stepped out of the stall. A woman entering the bathroom sniffed as the corner of her mouth turned down.

Allie whispered, “You can go out. I'll be right there. I'm okay.” Her hoarse voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

“Your voice. Are you all right?”

When she coughed, the harsh, dry sound raked across his nerves. “Couldn't breathe for a second there, but I'm better now, thanks.” She inclined her head toward the woman in the stall and raised her fine eyebrows.

Peter backed out of the restroom and paced outside until Allie exited. When she finally emerged, the haunted, hollow expression in her dull eyes made him reel back a step. He supported her upper arms as she leaned against the cold cinderblock wall.

“What the heck? Who was that man?” she asked, her sweet voice still raw, her green gaze drilling into his.

His thundering heart injected hot rage through his veins. The need to hunt the cretin who had hurt her began to overwhelm the need to remain close to Allie.

He rocked back on his heels. “I've never seen him before.” He paused. “Strike that. I saw him around town the other day. I bet that's the guy from outside your house.”

“What?” she whispered.

He held her upright as she staggered forward, her ashen face contorted. When she clutched at her midsection, he drew her up into his arms.
Protect her
. He wrapped one arm around her lower back and covered her head beneath his other hand, tucking her into his chest, wanting to surround her with his body.

When she trembled, he tried to let go, worried that their physical contact might trigger a vision. With a sob, she fisted her hands in the material of his shirt. Damn it. If she needed him, he would hold on to her as long as she wanted. Taking a deep breath and concentrating, he blocked his mind from her. He could at least protect her from the painful images of his kills.