Jeaniene Frost - Once Burned

Why do you want to? a dark inner voice whispered. Aren’t you sick of drowning in other people’s sins? Isn’t death your only way out?

I glanced at my wrist, the faint scars that had nothing to do with my electrocution marking my skin. Once, I’d listened to that despairing inner voice, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit part of me was still tempted by it. Then I thought of Marty, how I hadn’t told my dad I loved him the last time we spoke, how I hadn’t talked to my sister in months, and finally, how I didn’t want to give these bastards the satisfaction of killing me.

My head came up and I met the leader’s gaze. “My abilities are tied to my emotions. Abuse me mentally or physically, and you’ll have better luck calling a psychic hotline to find out what you want to know. That means no murdering anyone while I’m getting information for you, and no touching me at all.”

That last part I said because of the lustful look the scraggly brunet had been giving me. My skintight body suit and boxer shorts didn’t leave much to the imagination, but it was what I trained in. I hadn’t expected to be kidnapped today or I’d have worn something more conservative.

“Don’t think you can mesmerize me into forgetting whatever you do, either,” I added, waving my right hand. “Psychic impressions, remember? I’ll touch you or an object nearby and find out, and then your human crystal ball will be broken.”

All the above was bullshit. They could do anything they wanted and I’d still pull impressions from whatever my right hand touched, but I’d used my most convincing tone while praying that, for once, I’d prove to be a good liar.

Auburn Hair flashed his fangs at me in another scary smile. “We can manage that, if you deliver what you say you can.”

I smiled back with nothing close to humor. “Oh, I can deliver, all right.”

Then I glanced at the light socket behind him. And that’s not all I can do.

Auburn Hair’s name was Jackal, according to what his friends called him. Their names sounded equally made up, so I mentally referred to them as Pervert, Psycho, and Twitchy since the last couldn’t seem to stay still. Twitchy and Pervert had gone out over an hour ago to get some things for me to touch. I’d spent that time sitting on the edge of the hotel’s lumpy mattress, listening to Jackal talk on his cell phone in a language I didn’t recognize. I was getting chilly in my leotard, but I didn’t pull the covers over me. All my instincts were urging me to stay still and not attract any attention to myself, as if that mattered. The predators in this room were very aware of me even if they didn’t glance in my direction.

When Pervert and Twitchy came back, I looked at the duffel bag they carried with a mixture of dread and optimism. What was inside might lead to more grisly images blasting across my mind, but it would also ensure my survival.

“Put the objects in a row on the bed,” I directed Twitchy, ignoring the startled look he gave me. If I acted like a pitiful damsel in distress, then that’s how they’d treat me. But if I acted like a vital tool in their search for whomever they wanted these objects to lead them to, I upped my chances for survival.

At least, I hoped I did.

“Do it,” Jackal said, folding his arms across his chest. His stare felt like weights dropping onto me, but I took in several deep breaths and tried to ignore him. Seeing what Twitchy took out of the duffel bag helped with that.

A charred piece of fabric, a partially melted watch, a ring, something that looked like a belt, and a knife that shone with a distinct silvery gleam.

That last item made my heart skip a beat, something I hoped the others chalked up to nervousness instead of what it was. Excitement . The movies had it all wrong when it came to vampires. Wooden stakes wouldn’t harm them, nor would sunlight, crosses, or holy water. But silver through the heart meant the party was over, and now I had a silver knife within grabbing distance.

Not yet , I warned myself. I’d wait until they were so convinced I was helpless that they wouldn’t think twice about leaving a silver knife within easy reach. Or until at least two of them left again, whichever came first.

“All right, Frankie,” Jackal said, snapping my gaze back to him. He nodded at the objects. “Do your thing.”

I mentally braced myself and then picked up the charred piece of fabric first.

Smoke was everywhere. Twin beams of light cut through it, landing on where I was half concealed by the forklift. Terror flooded me as I realized I’d been spotted. My attempt to run was stopped short, and rough hands hauled me back.

At first the smoke was so thick I couldn’t see past the bright gaze lasered on me. Then I saw dark hair framing a lean face that had the shadow of stubble around the jaw and mouth. That mouth stretched into a smile that wasn’t cruel, as I’d expected, but looked surprisingly good-humored.

“Raziel,” the dark-haired stranger said in a chiding tone. “You shouldn’t have.”

I’d heard parents scold their children more harshly, but that didn’t stop the torrent of fear that flooded over me.

“Please,” I gasped.

“Please?” The stranger laughed, revealing white teeth with two distinct upper fangs. “How unoriginal.”

Then he let me go, turning around and waving farewell in a friendly manner. Relief overwhelmed me to the point that my knees trembled, but I didn’t let that stop me. I lunged toward the warehouse door.

That’s when the fire swarmed me, forming out of nowhere. It climbed up my legs in coiling, merciless bands, making me scream from the sudden blast of agony. I tried to run faster, but that only made the fire climb higher. I flung myself onto the floor next, rolling, every nerve ending howling with anguish, but the fire still didn’t extinguish. It kept growing, covering me with ruthless, hungry waves, until a roaring blackness rushed up and consumed me. The last thing I saw as I floated above my lifeless body was the dark-haired vampire still walking away, his hands now lit up by flames that somehow didn’t scorch his skin.

I blinked in disbelief. When my eyes opened, I was back in the hotel room curled into the fetal position, much like Raziel had been when he died. I must have instinctively mimicked his actions with the memory of those phantom flames.

“Well?” Jackal’s demanding voice was a relief because it centered me in reality instead of the nightmare I’d been forced to relive. “What did you see?”

I righted myself on the bed and threw the charred piece of fabric at him.

“I saw someone named Raziel get Krispy Kremed by a vampire who apparently can control fire,” I said, still trying to shake off the echoes of that gruesome death.

The four of them exchanged a look that could only be described as delighted. “Jackpot!” Psycho exclaimed, pumping his fists into the air.

From how happy they were, I guessed that either Raziel hadn’t been a friend or they already knew what had happened to him and this had been a test.

“Let’s be a hundred percent sure,” Jackal said, his grin fading. “Frankie, touch the ring next.”

I picked it up, tensing in grim expectation, but a scattershot of images I’d already seen filled my mind. They were still revolting enough to make me want to vomit, but in addition to being in the grayish colors of the past, they felt fainter, like I was watching a movie instead of experiencing them firsthand. With a shake of my head to clear it, I set the ring back down by Jackal.

“Maybe you made a mistake. The only impressions I’m picking up off this are yours, and they don’t tell me anything new.”