Kathleen Creighton - Danger Signals

It was, truly, what made The Gift a curse.

Gran… please help me. I need you!

The answer came at last, and she almost didn't hear it. Don't listen so hard, darling.

But the voice inside her mind wasn't Jeannette's. That voice had been crystalline and bright, like water laughing over pebbles. This was a voice she didn't recognize, and yet…had she heard it before? Somewhere… faint, like a whisper…nostalgic, like the softest of breezes on a warm spring morning, bringing with it the scent of lilacs.

Relax… let it pour over you… Like rain. You'll know…

Tierney's heart leaped with new hope. Gran?

Again the soft breeze, a hint of laughter. Not quite…

She reached out to the voice, incredulous…disbelieving… Mother? But you didn 't - you don't…

I've always been able to hear you, Tee.

"Momma?" She said it out loud, in a voice tremulous with tears.

Wade heard it and turned toward her. Too late.

To Cory, it seemed to happen in a second. Less. From his position, flat on his belly in the street with his cheek pressing into the gritty and still warm pavement, he saw a shadowy form lunge from the shadows between the trees and parked cars that lined the street. Saw him grab Tierney from behind and envelop her in an evil parody of an embrace-the same one with which he'd surprised his wife last night, on his return from Beirut.

The pressure on his spine vanished, as Wade sprang up and started for the pair at a dead run-only to come to a dead stop an instant later, hands stretched at his sides like outriggers to help halt his forward momentum.

A moment later Cory saw what Wade had seen first-the glint of a knife pressed against Tierney's throat. And something else in the man's other hand. A gun. Small, deadly…and pointed straight at Wade.

This was Cory's worst nightmare. Had it been a premonition? Superstition? Either way, his greatest fear-that he would find his lost brother only to lose him forever at the final moment-was coming true.

Shouts flew back and forth through the twilight.

The voice of a killer, high and taut, sobbing with fear and resolve. "Put the gun down, now! I'll kill her, I swear I will-"

"Don't do it-I'm warning-"

"I'll kill her right here. I'll cut her throat…"

"Wade! He means it, man. Don't do anything stupid-"

"Okay…okay. Look! I'm putting the gun down. Just… don't hurt her. Don't…hurt her."

Tierney was overwhelmed by the emotions. The sheer brutality of them, like hammer blows inside her head. Battering her. Destroying her. How much more of this could she take?

Desperately she clung to sanity, and her lifelines were the only clear thoughts she could find in the midst of the chaos.

The Watcher, Cory…he's who he says he is. He's Wade's brother!

Wade loves me, more than he does his own life.

And I love him the same.

And this man…with the knife I feel cutting into my throat and the gun pointed straight at Wade…he means to kill us both.

Then…incredibly, another "voice" swelled inside her mind, another voice to cling to in the terror of the moment.

This one she'd heard before. No words, just feelings. Simple and direct.

Love! Devotion! Defend! Protect!

She realized that she was moving backward, that she was being forced, half-dragged down the sidewalk. She could feel the warm trickle of blood down her neck and between her breasts.

She heard the sound of a man's ragged breathing and a high-pitched keening inside her head. The sound of fear and rage coming rapidly to a boil.

She heard a click-incredibly loud and outside her head-and even though she'd never heard the sound before, she knew it. The sound of a gun getting ready to fire.

And she couldn't move, couldn't do anything to stop what she knew was going to happen.

She kept moving…backward…the pressure on her throat unbearable. Darkness swam into the edges of her vision. She heard Wade's voice, rough with anguish.

"Come on. don't, man-don't-"

In utter desperation, her mind screamed. Bruno!

In the next instant she was falling backward.

There was an explosion-the gun! So close it seemed to be everywhere-inside her mind, outside her body. But she wasn't deafened by it. not completely-she could hear other sounds-scuffles, grunts of effort, screams of fury, wordless shouts and cries of pain.

And then…nothing. Darkness. Finally. And blessed, blessed silence.

Cory saw the man go down-inexplicably-taking his hostage with him. And almost simultaneously he heard the gunshot. Felt the concussion of it as if in his own body. He was already on his feet when he saw Wade crumple to the ground.

He'd been in enough life and death situations to know what he had to do first, and he did it without hesitation, even while his mind was screaming in agony. He darted across the street to where the shooter lay momentarily stunned, half under the body of the woman, who appeared to be unconscious. He kicked the gun away from the man's hand and sent it spinning across the driveway, then stomped down on the wrist of the hand holding the knife. Breathing hard, he bent down and felt for the woman's pulse.

Somewhere behind him, like the sound of a cavalry charge in the darkest hour, he could hear Wade swearing and groaning. Shouting at him.

"Is she all right? Did he hurt her?"

When Cory didn't reply immediately, being somewhat preoccupied with getting the knife out of its owner's reach and the man away from his intended victim. Wade almost screamed. "Answer me, goddamn it!"

Breathing hard, Cory yelled back. "She's okay I think- just fainted." He rolled the assailant, unresisting now and sobbing like a child, onto his stomach and planted one knee in the small of his back. And was finally able to ask the question he most desperately wanted the answer to. "How 'bout you? Where did he get you?"

"In my damn leg," Wade croaked, and started to laugh, the way someone does when he's in unspeakable pain. "I'll be okay…if somebody…will just get this…stinking dog off of me."

Cory twisted around to look at him, lying on his back at the bottom of the driveway. In the fading light he could see that his brother's arms were flung over his face in a vain attempt to protect it from the attentions of the enormously obese basset hound that was sprawled on his chest.

That was the first thing Tierney saw when she opened her eyes, though it took her a moment or two to realize what she was seeing. But yes. it was Bruno, his front half flopped across Wade's body, and he was bathing Wade's face with a long, floppy-no doubt very wet-tongue.

Clammy and crying-but laughing, too-she crawled over to the two of them, not sure which one to gather into her arms first.

The decision resolved itself when she saw the dark stain under Wade's body, growing larger as she watched. "Oh God. Wade, you're hurt. Where-"

"My leg-I think. Bleeding like a sonofagun, but…I'll be all right. Just please, get this miserable mutt off me."

"He's just trying to tell you he's sorry you're hurt," she sobbed. "He didn't mean for that to happen."

He turned his head toward her, desperately trying to avoid the dog's ministrations. In a much weaker voice, he rasped. "He got me shot."

"He saved my life." Tierney said as she pulled Bruno into her arms and hugged him.

Love! Adoration! Utter and complete devotion!

"Fair trade." Wade whispered. "Any day."

The cops arrived moments later, followed by a whole host of emergency personnel. With the prisoner in custody, finally relieved of his guard duty. Cory walked over to Wade, who was now strapped onto a gurney with a mask on his face and an IV bag dripping fluids into one arm. The other had been claimed by the blond woman, who clung to his hand as if she'd never let go.