Kol Barrington used to be a psychic until a traumatic event took his powers away from him. Until now.
Nick Taylor is a detective faced with a case that is getting stranger by the day. He has what looks to be a nasty serial killer on his hands and a so-called psychic who can tell him details that no one but the killer should know. He also has a desire for this strange witness that he has never experienced before in his life and that part of him wants to take as far as it can go.
If only he could get past the idea that Kol can read his mind and Kol can get past the idea that Nick might well be using him as bait to catch a killer.....
Loosely based on the 1995 novel Dream Man by Linda Howard
Kol
Barrington laughed quietly as he stepped to the side, deftly avoiding
John Bailey's less-than-subtle flirting. Kol enjoyed the monthly
video evenings they held in the book-store, although
sometimes the buffet afterwards could be a strain. But still,
tonight had been fun. The movie had been some light-hearted comedy
that he would no doubt forget, but it made a nice change from their
usual films, which were largely book adaptations. Everyone had seemed
to have a good time, and people had been neat and tidy, throwing
paper plates and cups into the recycling bins. Cleaning away the
remnants of the buffet took Kol less than five minutes.
It was just after
eleven when he steered the last of the customers out into the night,
turning the sign to closed before
locking the door. He headed to the small car park at the back of the
store and buckled himself into his reliable but slightly battered
Honda CR-V. As he pulled out onto the street, he realised that he
was content—and that, for at least the last six months, he had been
feeling almost normal.
There had been a
time when he thought he'd never feel normal. After the incident, he
had struggled for the longest time, although the scars were more
metaphysical
and mental than physical. It made him smile to think that Dr
Whittingham
had been correct: the human psyche was a strange thing, and things
never manifested the way you expected them to. He was more than happy
that his particular ability hadn't returned.
He had wondered,
though, if he would ever feel safe again. Three years after it
happened, he had finally pushed himself into going out; he refused to
remain a shut-in because of what that man had done. When he realised
he could afford to buy the book-store near where his family lived, he
threw himself into the project until the store
was almost a second home. He attributed its success to residual
clientèle from the previous owner and the store's reputation for
finding hard-to-source books. Movie night was well attended, and the
extra revenue justified the late closing time.
He had gone a little
movie-wild once he discovered the joy of throwing himself into the
visual experience, without being bombarded by how everyone else felt
about what they were watching.
He discovered a love
of The Fast and the Furious
franchise and was looking forward to seeing number six. No doubt it
was the pretty cars, although the pretty men weren't bad either.
Surprisingly, he could also cope with violent or scary movies,
although he preferred ones with aliens—the more far-fetched, the
easier to handle. He personally knew some of the worst that humans
could do; he didn't need to see it played out on screen in HD. Sex
scenes were his real nemesis, which was a bitch because sex seemed to
be in every movie nowadays. But the intimacy portrayed made him
extremely uncomfortable, and he tended to hide his face or at least
close his eyes until it was over.
Again, Dr Whittingham
told him to give it time, that his natural instincts and desires
would return eventually. Privately he felt he could well do without
them; sex was a messy and stressful experience, as far as he could
recall, and not worth the effort.
Heading toward home,
he smiled as
he sang along with his iPod—30 Seconds to Mars were singing “A
Beautiful Lie” and he loved the song. He could carry a tune, but
he didn't have the voice or lung capacity of their lead singer,
another beautiful man. Kol wondered if the singer was gay, an idle
thought licking through his head as he drove automatically, the late
night making the journey smooth and relatively traffic free. He was
seriously thinking about taking a vacation – his eye had been
caught by a travelogue about the Great Barrier Reef earlier that day
and the beauty of it was undeniable. Perhaps-
The
light catches
the blade as it slashes down, the beauty of a red line appearing on
pale flesh.
“NO!” Kol
jerked, a physical rejection of the image that had taken over his
mind. He didn't want this. He had never wanted this, and how cruel
that it was coming back now, when he had finally found some semblance
of peace.
Sadistic
dark pleasure, contempt for his victim and her pathetic cries for
mercy. The blade rises and falls again, the solid thunk
as it strikes bone causing an almost sexual thrill,
“NO!” Kol's
scream was loud in the confines of the car. He wrenched the steering
wheel sideways, knowing from bitter experience that he had only
moments before he lost control of the vehicle as he was taken over
completely. A black tide came
over his eyes as his mind was flooded with images and feelings. He
barely had time to turn off the engine and hope he was parked
sufficiently out of the way.
A hard rap on the
window brought Kol back to himself, the harsh sound penetrating the
darkness.
“You okay?” The
voice was young and female. Kol scrubbed his face with his hands and
then stretched his limbs, trying to bring feeling back. He rolled
down his window.
“What?”
“You been parked
here for the better part of two hours. Here.” Still sluggish and
bemused, he looked at the young girl, her blonde hair shining with
the light from the nearby food-van.
“I can't—”
“Don't worry about
paying for it. You just looked like you needed the buzz.”
With a shaking hand,
he reached through the window and gratefully accepted the cup, the
midnight-dark brew burning his lips as he took an incautious sip.
Blinking rapidly, he registered his surroundings. He was parked
lopsidedly a short distance away from the food van and couldn't
recall even seeing it when he pulled in.
“Thank you.”
“What happened?
Was it an epileptic fit? I have a cousin who suffers really badly.
She's not allowed to drive anymore, although to be honest I'm not
sure how much of that is down to the epilepsy. My aunt says—”
He felt a little
rude tuning out the inane chatter while he gratefully consumed the
hot sugared beverage, but there was no way his sluggish mind could
keep up with what the girl was saying.
“—so I said she
should probably not. Are you finished with that?” He nodded and
passed the empty cup through
the window, letting his head fall back onto the headrest. “I've
got to get back to the truck. Are you going to be okay?”
“Yeah, yeah,
thanks ever so much. My name is Kol, by the way.”
“Hey Kol, I'm
Toni. Any time you want coffee and a chat, just pop by.” She
looked at him critically in the dawn's soft light. “Are you okay
getting home? You don't look as bad as you did, but you're awfully
pale.”
“I'm fine, thank
you, Toni. I really appreciate it.” It was a struggle to
coordinate his movements but he managed to turn the key in the
ignition, starting the car. It looked like he wasn't far from home,
something he appreciated as he still felt shaky. He refused to think
about the images that had appeared in his head, and he instead
concentrated fiercely on other things
during the drive home. He knew Toni's strong coffee was the reason
he made it home in one piece, and he resolved to visit her soon and
leave a large tip. Clinging to the banal normality, he made sure the
front door was locked behind him before staggering down the hallway.
More than anything he wanted to throw himself between the welcoming
sheets, but experience told him he needed to have a drink of water
and visit the bathroom first. Once he crashed, there was no telling
how quickly he would reawaken.
It was like walking
through mud, but he made his way to the bathroom, filled a mug with
water, and drained it as he sat on the toilet and emptied his
bladder. He splashed water on his face to wash away the sweat and
caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.
His eyes were shadowed and red-rimmed, his skin paler than normal,
his mouth pinched in pain.
And such a short
time ago, he remembered with a pang, he had actually felt content.
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