The Awakening

Chapter Seventeen

Luther didn't buy a single second of Gaby's act. She was good, but he'd already figured out that when Gaby seemed most sincere, she had ulterior motives. This time her motive was to dupe him into thinking she intended to stay uninvolved.

He wasn't that stupid.

Especially not after seeing how she held that knife—with intent to use it.

Familiar, tender, with love and barely restrained eagerness.

She had plans to use her knife, and soon. He had no doubt.

Gaby was a woman who had to act. By whatever strange force possessed her—and he had a feeling it possessed her right now—she had skill and amazing ability, and not using those attributes would be as contrary to her as not breathing would be to him.

She remained silent, maybe even… stoic, on the remainder of the drive. He didn't like it. She had a pinched look about her that she tried hard to disguise, but he knew her too well.

How he knew her so well, Luther couldn't say, but almost from the onset he'd been keenly attuned to her. Right now she was separate from him, drawn into herself by some odd suffering that he couldn't comprehend.

Even after he parked and got out, she didn't budge a single eyelash. At least, Luther noted with a smile, she'd conceded to his courteous tendencies.

But then, given how she started when he opened the door, he decided she'd only been too involved in her own ruminations to give him a second thought.

Gabrielle Cody had the uncanny ability to put him entirely out of her mind.

If only he could do the same with her.

Eyes vague with an indefinable emotion, she got out of the car and started past him.

Realizing that she didn't even plan to say good night, Luther stood there in amazement.

At the last second, Gaby caught herself and, with her back to him, paused. She looked over her shoulder and, really seeing him again, gave him a thorough once-over. She came back.

Solemn and sincere, she stared at him. "The movie was great."

A distinct lack of enthusiasm belied the sentiment. "I'm glad you enjoyed it, Gaby."

Her gaze went to his mouth. "Thanks for the digital audio player, too, and the food, and… everything." She licked her lips, and in that instant, a veil of pain lifted from her expression.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and planted a wet one right on his mouth. What she lacked in finesse, she definitely made up for with enthusiasm.

Luther's hands automatically went to her waist. Drawn in by her, he turned his head a bit for a better fit and dragged her closer.

Standing in front of her apartment, he was very aware of the people milling around them on the sidewalk and the likelihood of Mort stepping out at any minute.

At least, for about two seconds he was that aware.

When Gaby licked over his lips, he opened for her—and lost all sense of time and place.

Luckily, she had more willpower.

Pushing back, she stared at him. "What do you plan to do now?"

Luther's thoughts tried to pull together without success. "About?"

Her eyelids twitched; her pain had returned. "The body." Typical of Gaby when she wanted to hide something, she jutted out her hip in attitude and quirked her mouth. "The corpse."

Seeing her like this, so determined to bear her woes alone, made a missing corpse almost inconsequential to Luther. Concern brought his brows together. "I'll take care of it."

"How? Where will you start? Are you going back to the hospital tonight?"

An ugly suspicion tamped down on his lust. Hands still on her waist, Luther back-stepped her against his car and leaned in to impose his will. "Did you kiss me just to get information from me?"

Her droll look of annoyance almost amused him. "So now you're accusing me of being a femme fatale? What are you, an idiot?" A very line trembling coursed through her body. "Do you even realize how stupid that sounds'?"

To halt the rapid-fire insults, Luther smashed two fingers over her mouth. "All right. Then why did you kiss me?"

She slapped his hand away. "Because I like kissing you. If you didn't want me to, you should have spoken up and said so."

Luther wasn't sure, but she sounded convincing enough. "I like kissing you, too. But you have a lot to learn about the etiquette of kissing."

The insult infuriated her beyond measure. "Fine. I'll try to get some lessons in before I bother kissing you again."

Luther knew she said it to hit a nerve.

He knew she baited him.

And still, his temper struck a high point. "We already had this discussion, Gaby." Struggling to keep his voice low and moderate, Luther stepped back from her. "Anything you want to learn, you'll learn from me."

She shoved her face in close to his. "I'll practice anywhere, with anyone I choose."

The thought of her with another man rattled him so fiercely that he might have lost it there and then. But as Gaby spoke, she went through that peculiar transformation again.

The skin around her eyes tightened; the hue of her irises grew brighter, her pupils bigger. Beneath the pale skin of her throat, frantic energy palpated.

Her scent was stronger, more captivating.

Though the actual physicality of her body didn't change, her strength was more defined to the naked eye.

In the usual course of things, Gaby looked like a ragtag, bedraggled beanpole of a girl.

At this moment, Luther saw an Amazon able to take on the world.

To gentle her, calm her, he brushed the backs of his fingers along that wild pulse beat in her throat. "You're very soft, Gaby."

The razor-sharp essence thawed. Her eyes focused; her lips compressed. "You're such an ass."

Glad to have her back, Luther smiled. "Yeah, I know."

"You need to find that missing body."

"Yeah." Running a hand through his hair, Luther decided it was past time to get back on track. He glanced at his watch. "Ann is meeting me at the hospital in a few minutes."

Gaby's expression went flat. "Well, whoopee for you. I'm sure you two will have a grand old time."

It felt odd to fix an emotion like jealousy to a woman like Gaby.

Odd, and exhilarating.

"We'll be working, Gaby. I already told you, there's nothing personal between us."

"Like I care."

"You care." Where Gaby was concerned, Luther felt certain of very little, but that much he knew. He kissed her again before she could dispute his claim. "I can do my job more efficiently if I know you'll stay out of trouble tonight."

She stared him in the eyes and said, "I always stay out of trouble."

That steadfast gaze gave him pause. If she had hoped to convince him, she accomplished just the opposite.

"Now." Gaby shoved him back. "Stop dawdling and go do whatever it is cops do to solve heinous crimes before more heinous crimes happen."

Turning to lean on the car, Luther crossed his arms and watched her retreat. He saw the discomfort in her usual graceful gait, the rigid way she held her shoulders. "Want me to come by later and tell you what I find?"

"Tell me in the morning," She kept on walking, over the sidewalk, up from the front steps, and to the door. She dug out a key. "It's late, and I'm tired."

Now he knew she lied. Gaby wouldn't admit to a weakness of any kind, not even exhaustion. "I'll be keeping an eye on you. Gaby."

"From the hospital?" She stepped inside and turned toward him to say, "Good luck with that."

The door shut with finality, and Luther took only two seconds to make up his mind. Finding a corpse and solving a crime was important. He wouldn't neglect his obligations and duty. But she was right—he couldn't very well watch her from so far away.

And she definitely needed supervision. She needed protection.

Whether she wanted to admit it or not.

Retrieving his cell phone, Luther put in a call to Ann.

She answered on the first ring. "Detective Kennedy."

Luther circled the hood of his car and got in. "It's Luther. Where are you?"

"At the hospital. Why?"

"Something's come up—"

"You're telling me." Ann's voice rose with agitation. "I tracked down the paperwork on our missing remains. Are you sitting down?"

"Do I need to be?"

"Oh yeah. Brace yourself, because I just know you're going to love what I've found."

Dread filled Luther. "Let's hear it."

"The signature authorizing a cremation was forged. Seems that's not what our Ms. Davies wanted at all."

The dread turned to anger and disbelief. "Shit."

"Yeah. A nurse broke down and told me some things she'd seen and heard, so I checked. This is definitely not the same signature. I already sent two uniforms over to the crematorium to talk to the staff. In another day or two, they could have claimed she was already cremated, and who would know different? Ashes are ashes, right?"

"It'd be an easy cover-up—with someone working at the crematorium."

"Exactly. Someone there had to be in on this."

"That'd make sense. The doc forges the name, someone else pretends to get the body…" Sickened by such perverse deception and corruption, Luther rubbed his forehead. "So the big question now is: where's the body?"

"I don't know that yet, but I did talk to Dr. Marton." Ann gave a heavy pause. "Luther, he's not the one who forged the signature."

Not Dr. Marton? So Gaby was wrong about that. "You sure?"

"Positive. Not only did I rule out Marton, but I'm putting my bets on someone else entirely."

Something in Ann's tone clicked. Luther straightened in his seat. "Wait a minute. Are you saying…" His brain almost cramped with the possibility. "Dr. Chiles did this?"

Disgusted, Ann said, "That's right, big boy. The sweet, little, soft spoken female doctor is as sick as they come."

"Holy shit." But… it made sense, in a twisted, shot-to-hell way. No one suspected her. She was so far from obvious that she'd get by with murder—literally—and no one would look at her twice. "Goddamn it!"

"Yup." Satisfied with his reaction, Ann said, "Now all we have to do is find her."

"She's not at the hospital?"

"And not at her home address. The good doctor is AWOL."

Luther looked at the front door of Gaby's apartment building. He recalled the altered state of her appearance, the rigidity of her posture.

He put the car in gear. "I know how to find her."

"You do?"

"Yeah. I'll get back with you." Going on a hunch, he disconnected the call and pulled away from the curb. If Gaby knew he waited on her, she wouldn't budge from the apartment. He'd show a little patience, share a little belief.

And Gaby would lead him to the doctor.

Breath hitching painfully, Gaby barely got in the door before Mort was there.

Oblivious to her state, he smiled and asked, "How was your date?"

Striding past Mort, all but blinded by her purpose, she headed toward the basement steps. "It wasn't a date."

"It wasn't?"

Unlike anything she'd ever experienced before, a terrible premonition hung over Gaby. She felt the summons, clean and pure, and ripe with pain.

Yet a sense of doom veiled her. Writing it off as the interference of too many other people, Gaby shook her head.

She knew better than to get involved. "Leave me alone, Mort."

Of course, he followed her.

Damn it, she did not have the time or patience to chat with him tonight. "Okay, fine, it was a date."

Halfway down the stairs, she realized Mort was right behind her, and she turned.

Mort almost fell into her.

Hands fisting and brows pinched, Gaby glared at him. "Go back, Mort."

His easy camaraderie faded to nervous energy. "Back… where?"

"Upstairs. Away from me. Out of my way."

"But… Why?" He looked her over with grave trepidation. "What are you doing, Gaby? What's happened?"

"For crying out loud." Gaby rubbed her tired eyes and tried to decide how to send him packing. She'd been stupid to let him get so close, to let him think he could question her and tag along at will. The inner turmoil built, reminding her that she had a job to do. "Look, I'm going out and no, you don't need to know where. It doesn't concern you."

Sparse brows rose high, showing bloodshot blue eyes half concealed under his shaggy brown hair. "Which means you think it's too dangerous for me?"

"I don't think it, Mort. I know it."

"Oh." Visibly tamping down on his fear, he straightened his scrawny frame. The amateur tattoo on his shoulder looked even more absurd with his attempt at bravery. "I'm going with you anyway. You might need backup."

"No, I won't." She flattened a hand on his bony chest and gave him a decisive shove.

He stumbled, almost fell on the steps, but caught himself. "Gaby?"

Belief in her purpose cauterized any regret she felt for attacking him. "I managed to live twenty-one years without your help, Mort. I think I'll be fine one more night."

"God only knows how you've managed."

"Yeah," Gaby agreed, "He does."

"Oh." Mort gave a sickly frown—and turned to pleading. "Let me go with you, Gaby. Please? Even with divine intervention, you're not invincible."

Fool. Gaby looked heavenward. "Forgive his ignorance. He doesn't realize Your influence."

Giving credence to that claim, the internalized smoldering of power heightened, making her faster, more agile, and Gaby leaped down the remainder of the stairs with ease.

"You're staying here, Mort, and that's that. Don't argue with me, and don't even think about trying to follow me." She gave him one quick glance. "I guarantee you'll regret it."

"Wait." The rapid thumping of Mort's descent on the stairs echoed behind her. He dogged her heels as she went to the laundry room to judge the distance to the small casement window that someone had recently used to sneak in. She'd fit, but just barely.

For once, her slight build was a blessing.

Dredging up an image of Dr. Marton, she surmised that he must have hired someone to vandalize them. The big doctor never would have squeezed his bulk through such a small opening.

While Gaby dragged over a broken chair and hoisted herself up to reach the lock, Mort asked, "What are you doing?"

"Taking a back way out. Regardless of what I always say, Luther isn't an idiot—and neither am I. I won't underestimate him."

Trying to see her face, Mort circled to the side of her. "What does Luther have to do with this?"

Gaby opened the newly installed lock and shoved the window wide. "If I try to leave through the front door, he'll follow me."

"Why?"

"Because he doesn't trust me, that's why." The dominant perimeters stretched, inflating her abilities, making her teem with energy.

Setting her every nerve on fire.

Soon she'd be sick with the potency of it—but she welcomed the physical intrusion, knowing that she'd made the right choice and that God would be with her on all she did this night. He'd guide her, and as she'd told Mort, he'd keep her safe. In turn, she'd keep Luther safe, and hopefully Bliss and Morty. Because of her, they'd be able to continue in their secure little world.

It was the others, the evil involved, who had reason to fear. Not Gaby.

"Once I'm out, lock this and leave it locked. I mean it, Mort."

"I don't want to be alone here, Gaby." Hands shaking and voice weak, he admitted, "I'm scared."

Busy judging the size of that window, Gaby said, "Be a man, damn it."

"Why don't you be a friend?"

Stunned at the outburst, Gaby turned and caught Mort in her sharp-eyed glare.

He put a hand to his head. "Jesus, Gaby. While you're off hunting down one monster, another could be hunting for you. Here!" He held out his hands in entreaty. "What if one of those things shows up and I'm the only one around? I can't fight like you. I'm not as brave as you. I don't—"

Pushed by urgency, Gaby leaped off the chair and grabbed Mort's shoulders. While evil threatened, she knew better than to concern herself with one individual.

But this was Mort.

And he was… a friend.

She had to find the most expedient way to placate him. "I promise you'll be fine. I know these things, Mort, remember? But if it makes you feel better, there's a gun in my room, You can hold on to it until I get back."

A rush of color leached from his pallid face. "A… a gun?"

"I keep it tucked away in a special box in my bedsprings. Go on up and get it. It's already loaded, and the safety is off, so be careful."

He shrank back. "But… I've never touched a gun."

Damn him for holding her up. "You aim and shoot. That's all there is to it. A couple of bullets will stop anything, even monsters. Just try not to hurt yourself, okay?"

"Maybe you should take it with you?"

"No." Again, Gaby bounded up onto the chair. "It makes too much noise, especially in the woods."

"Woods?"

Her vision fluctuated, going inward. Only with an effort did she clear it. "I'm out of time, Mort. If you want to help, go out front and see if Luther is still hanging around. If he is, make sure he doesn't trail me."

Sounding more sick by the moment, Mort asked, "How am I supposed to do that?"

"Talk to him. Keep him busy. Pretend I went upstairs to bed."

"You want me to lie to him?"

He made it sound like corrupting the innocent would be the worst of her crimes. "Fine. Don't help. But at least back off and let me do what we both know I can do!" To keep from having it snag on the narrow sill, Gaby removed the knife and leather sheath and held both in one hand. "I'll be back before you know it."

"Right." Misery etched every line in Mort's face. "Bloody and dazed and sick."

"Maybe. Now shut the window behind me." Weapon in hand, scraping her arms, nape, and spine in the process, Gaby wiggled out. Luckily, Mort kept the back lane mostly cleared, so there weren't any broken bottles to cut her on her clumsy climb from the window.

The window dropped shut behind her, and she heard the latch snap into place.

Churning motivation kindled through her veins, pushing her, urging her to haste. With only moonlight to guide her, Gaby went to the alley that connected the lane to the street, and peeked out. Streetlamps left a yellow glow on the hot pavement and concrete.

Making note of ordinary things outside God's command wasn't easy, but she managed to scan the area for Luther. She saw no one, but she wasn't one to trust mere eyesight anyway. Just because she didn't see Luther didn't mean he wasn't there.

Before the twisting ache took complete control, Gaby needed to make some headway. She needed to put a lot of distance between her and anyone who might detain her.

Ducking back out of sight, she reattached her sheath and with the familiar nudge of her blade at her back, crept two blocks down along the back lane. Moving in near silence, she went right past a druggie who didn't notice her and sidled by two thugs in deep conversation.

Once she'd left the apartment building behind, she cut toward the street. Staying in the shadows, she broke into a fluid run. It was dangerous, being here in the open where someone could try to interfere. But with each second that ticked by, the exigencies of the moment sharpened.

Events took place—with the doctor, with Luther… perhaps with her. Under His influence, Gaby could only decipher her purpose, not the why of it.

The pain became a ravenous craving, gnawing on her soul, obliterating all things peripheral. Surroundings faded away to nothingness. They held no import, not when God had need of her service.

And yet… a tiny worm of awareness remained, squiggling through the agony.

Please, she pleaded in small blips of sentient awareness, keep Luther safe.

Watch over Morty.

Guard Bliss.

Not physically with her but still right there, in her thoughts and spirit where she couldn't forget about them, these people afflicted her mind. She could literally see Mort, so beaten down and sad that she'd left him behind.

And Luther, ripe with suspicion and an overpowering protectiveness.

And poor Bliss, scared and young and alone—trusting her…

Go away. Gaby silently screamed to those emotional phantoms. She had a job to do, a job they couldn't understand, things they couldn't fathom.

The warring of her duty against her emotion made her ill. Too many people concerned her. Too many people had gotten past her shields, dividing her attention, causing her to right the pull, weakening it and her.

To block them from her mind, Gaby concentrated on the agony, visualizing it as a live thing, red-hot and fierce within her.

She wouldn't stumble; no never that. She'd just suffer—and keep going.

Without thoughts of her friends to lead her into deadly errors.

Losing all concept of real time, she reached the face of the looming hospital structure. The moon cowered behind thick gray clouds. Distant streetlamps couldn't illuminate through the humid air. An aura of monstrous proportions bloated from the area, pickled with black holes indicating imbalance, muddy with evil, gray with depression.

For those who saw auras, the warning couldn't be clearer.

For those who fought evil, it didn't matter.

Single-minded in her purpose, without looking around to check for witnesses, Gaby forged beyond the fog of contamination and plunged into the black woods. A gust of wind surged behind her, bowing trees, parting shrubs, creating a bold ingress to her goal.

She blended with the shadows, moved with the night sounds. Undetectable. Agitated but inconversable. As much a spirit as those restless apparitions swirling round her in a maddened frenzy.

Oblivious to the thorny twigs that snagged her skin and the jagged stones that dug into her exposed toes, Gaby prowled deeper.

At the corners of her consciousness, images of both Luther and Morty tried to intrude.

No. She snuffed them with ruthless determination and pushed ahead. Farther and farther into the woods.

She would do what she must, and thoughts of them would not hinder her. Yet the more she tried to barricade them from her mind, the greater her agony became. A few shaky steps later, the effort of blocking them took out her knees, and she stumbled.

Confused, Gaby crawled upright and took two more steps.

Her lungs squeezed, making her gasp for each breath. She strangled, unable to go on.

What the fuck was this?

The agony tore into her, more ruthless than anything she'd ever experienced. She doubled over, stunned, disordered—and then she heard it.

Laughter. Moaning. From the doctor and the victims.

And worse: lumbering footsteps from her left. Eyes closing, Gaby curled in on herself. She didn't have to see the intruder to know who it was. Opening herself, she felt him, saw him, knew him.

Morty.

Oh God, no.

Now it made sense. She couldn't block him, because he wasn't just a troubling thought. The idiot had followed her after all.

And now, he very well might die.