Ghostwalker 02 - Mind Game

the actual thought. She already knew otherwise; her senses told her the truth, but her mind wouldn’t accept it.

    Smoke poured out the open door leading to the entryway and offices. No one ever manned the offices, they were there mostly for show if anyone visited. No one ever did…
    until now. She glanced inside and saw the file cabinets overturned and folders spilled onto the floor smoldering or already succumbing to the flames. Her heart began to pound loudly. She could see a ribbon of wool, a pale blue splashed with a bright red.

    Tears swam in her eyes, blurred her vision. She swallowed hard and brushed at her cheeks and lashes. There was a strange roaring in her head. She didn’t want to look, but she couldn’t prevent her terrified gaze from following the blue string to the blood-soaked ball of wool and the outstretched hand beside it.

    Milly lay sprawled on the floor. Dahlia heard a noise escape her throat, a high keening sound of grief. She knelt by Milly, stroked back her hair. She’d been shot in the forehead.
    Dahlia couldn’t bear to have her lying on the floor with the horrible mess around her and smell of gasoline heavy in the room. Bernadette lay only a few feet away. Dahlia sat between them, rocking back and forth, a keening sound that she was certain was not really coming from her throat sounding loud in her ears.

    Dahlia could barely contain her grief. It built in her, fed by the voracious appetites of the violence embedded deep in the waves of energy rolling through her burning home. These two women were her only family. Jesse had been her only friend. She reached out to touch Bernadette, a silent apology for being late. She stroked a caress down her arm and tried to weave her fingers through Bernadette’s, needing to hold her hand, to simply have the contact. There was something in Bernadette’s hand.

    Dahlia leaned over her to pry the object from her fingers. It was a heart-shaped amethyst.
    Dahlia had brought it to her a few years earlier. Bernadette’s eyes had brightened as she took it, murmuring something about a waste of money for Dahlia to buy her such trinkets.
    She had worn it around her neck every day since.

    Grief clawed at Dahlia’s insides, raked hard so that she felt raw and wounded. She took the small heart and pressed it to her face. Tears poured down her face, and her chest hurt so bad she was afraid it would explode. Heat seared the air around her, shimmering in the room. Papers ignited only a scant few inches from where she sat.

    Without warning she heard a door to the nearby gymnasium bang open. Startled, she glanced at the open door to see a man sprinting toward her.

    “Run!” She heard the command, a sharp imperious demand that cut through the terrible pain burning in her chest. He seemed to flow across the floor, a sinuous movement of muscle and power. Immediately she had the impression of a great tiger bearing down on her.

    “Run. Get out of here.”

    As he bore down on her, she felt the first flutter of fear. It blossomed immediately into a panic attack. For the first time in her life, Dahlia was frozen, unable to move or think.
    She could only watch as the heavily muscled man closed the distance between them with his long strides. He reached down without missing a step and scooped her up effortlessly, as casually as he would have retrieved a ball, and continued running from the building.

    Dahlia found herself upside down over his shoulder, a package much like his rifle and gear. She’d never experienced grief before, not the mind-numbing kind that pervaded her body and left her pliant in a stranger’s arms.

    She’d never been in any man’s arms. She’d never been this close to a man before in her life.

    “Keep your head down. The building’s rigged with explosives. When it goes off we want to be far away.” Nicolas gave Dahlia the explanation although he hardly thought it necessary to explain his actions. It was just that she was so pale and shell-shocked. He could feel her heart pounding, threatening to come right through her chest. He didn’t expect her to be so fragile and to feel so feminine against his body. He didn’t expect to notice her much at all, yet he was acutely aware of her, even in the life-threatening situation.

    “I can’t just leave them.” The words slipped out, choked with grief, when she knew it was silly to say it. To think it. Who would be stupid enough to go back into a burning building that might blow up