Shadows of Light

Published by Evernight Publishing at Smashwords

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2013 TC Collins

ISBN: 978-1-77130-498-6

Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

Editor: CL Howell

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

To Tali Spencer and M.A. Church, thank you for your support and your wisdom. You guys are the best.

SHADOWS OF LIGHT

TC Collins

Copyright © 2013

Prologue

1He groans. Ecstasy washes through his body at the sucking sounds. His cock jerks and a bead of pre-cum moistens his boxers. Pausing in his ministrations for a moment, he reaches down to stroke his erection through his jeans. The screams from the woman beneath him and the bowie knife plundering flesh add fuel to his desire. As the screams die away, he shudders with his orgasm. He smiles down at his companion, and bends to give her a tender kiss.

Rising from his sated lover, he takes one last look. Thank you for the wonderful evening. I’ve enjoyed myself. His lover does not answer, but her blank expression is thanks enough. Still smiling, he turns toward the streetlight at the end of the alley and begins to whistle as he walks away.

Chapter One

Blood. There is blood everywhere. Screams that rise in the night. My throat is raw from the screams. Pain…with no escape. Blood gurgles in my throat. There is no one to hear. No one to save me. Oh God, please save me!

No one answers. No one will come. I am alone. A tear leaks out the corner of my eye as the man plunges the knife into my chest, my arms, and my thighs. Oh God, he is aroused and stroking himself! There is a smile upon his face, as if he is embracing a loved one, but his eyes…his eyes tell a different story. They are the last things I see…

****

No! I heard my scream as I sat up in bed. Not again. Please not again, I whispered, broken.

Chills wracked my body as I rocked back and forth, seeking a measure of peace. Tears streamed down my face as the nightmares hit the instant replay button.

Oh God! Not again! I cannot go through this again. I am not strong enough. Reaching over the bed to the nightstand, I clicked on the lamp switch. Blessed, soothing light spread throughout the room, alleviating the shadows. I sighed as relief coursed through my body and the shivers eased.

Another vision. A new face. A new killer. I’ve been able to touch the minds of serial killers for as long as I can remember. I hated it every time my mind connected with them. They were pure evil and I would never understand how people could be so fascinated with them. No matter what the psychologists said, there was no goodness in them, no shining light of redemption. Serial killers needed to kill, maim, and torture to feel alive.

A wail filled the room and I realized the sound was coming from me. I wrapped my arms around my head and continued to moan in denial. I can’t do this. I can’t do this. The thoughts rang like a mantra through my weary mind.

The last time I almost ...

Shaking the thoughts from my mind, I got out of bed. My T-shirt was soaked in sweat and I really needed a shower. Sighing, I shuffled to the bathroom and turned the shower on. Steam billowed through the room as memories pounded in my makeshift prison. I moaned and grabbed my head with both hands as I attempted to keep my mind blank. A migraine was forming. I stumbled out of the shower to the medicine cabinet and grabbed the prescription bottle.

Shoot! It took three tries, but I got the blasted thing to open.

I ignored the instructions on the bottle to take one per day as needed, and popped two into my mouth, swallowing them dry. Exhaustion overwhelmed me and my head drooped as I rubbed the nape of my neck. Luckily, remodeling the apartment so that the entire place was soundproof prevented extraneous thoughts from intruding. I could not handle listening to other people’s thoughts right now on top of the dream I had earlier.

I was a Precognitive, Intuitive, and Emotive Telepath which meant that not only could I send and receive other people’s thoughts and emotions, but I also dreamed about things that would happen in the future. At least that was what Dr. Johannasan diagnosed me as after previously diagnosing me as Paranoid Schizophrenic. I preferred to go with Matthew Rose, Nut Job Extraordinaire. It had flair to it, something Dr. Johannasan should be able to appreciate.

After being in a car crash at nine years old and watching my mom, dad, and two older brothers die in that same accident, I went insane. That was when the hearing voices thing made its presence known. That was when the fun times began. Yeah, good times. The tests. The public humiliation. Doctors poking and prodding me as if I were a newly discovered species. The shock therapy when I did not want to go along with Dr. Johannasan’s program.

I took a slow, deep breath as I felt my fragile hold on reality slip. I could not allow my thoughts to go there. Not yet.

Not while Dr. Johannasan was still out there. Hunting me.

Dr. Johannasan had made a fortune and become a leading expert in his field because of me, and my escape put a big cramp on his plans for the future. He had to catch me so he could stay on top. I had promised myself the day I escaped that he would never catch me again. I would die first.

I frowned at my reflection as I leaned forward on tiptoe to wipe the steam from the mirror. Even after the hot shower, my skin was pale and the dark circles under my hazel eyes gave me an addicted to heroin look. It was not a nice look for me and clashed with my dark blond hair. I smiled at my lame attempt at a joke, but it had served its purpose and I relaxed further. The migraine that was trying to drill its way into my skull receded.

Sighing, I padded to the kitchen when my stomach belted its protest at being empty. I looked in the refrigerator for the fixings to make a sandwich and realized the delivery person had forgotten the sandwich meat. I glanced down at my clenched hands as I began to tremble. The microwave clock confirmed my fears.

The delivery service had ended for the night.

Wringing my hands, I began to hyperventilate. Today was Wednesday. I always had a sandwich for dinner on Wednesdays. How could they not understand how important that was? Changing the program always brought pain.

Staggering to the bedroom, I yanked on a pair of baggy jeans and a long-sleeved shirt from the closet. I inhaled and tried to calm my nerves. After dressing, I grabbed my leather gloves and jacket from the hall closet and pulled those on. Grabbing my house keys and a baseball cap, I unlocked the door and broke out in a sweat. I had to do this. It was Wednesday.

After the third attempt, I managed to pry the door open. A sea of outside thoughts hammered me. I’d better prepare dinner before my husband gets home. What’s coming on TV tonight? Does he still love me? Another barrage of thoughts slammed into me before I jerked the door closed again. Whimpering, I slid to the floor as I attempted to rein in the nausea.

No good.

Dragging myself up, I ran to the bathroom and emptied the contents of my stomach.

Glancing into the mirror as I turned the faucet on the sink, I saw blood dribbling from my nose. How could I have forgotten? How could I have been so stupid? Safety first. Always.

After rinsing my face and brushing my teeth, I went to my bedroom and grabbed the iPod lying at the foot of the bed. By turning the music to maximum volume, it would muffle intruding thoughts—not completely block them—but subdue them enough so I could make it to the store without collapsing in the middle of the street. The long-sleeved jacket and gloves would take care of the rest. My gift was stronger through touch. I snorted at the thought. Gift? Ha! More like a curse, one I could not seem to get away from and had all but ruined my life.

Armed for battle with the occasional tremors infecting my body, I walked to the door prepared for round two. Jacking the volume of Slipknot’s Gematria up to maximum, I inhaled and opened the door. I had to get to the store and back home before the low hum became too much.

Stepping cautiously into the hallway and ignoring the mistrustful looks of some of the neighbors standing around, I darted to the elevator. When it arrived, I sighed in relief, slipped inside and pushed the G button, hoping it would close before anyone else entered.

No such luck ...

My breath caught as a large man covered with tattoos from his neck down pressed his paws into the gap to prevent the doors from closing. I glanced up at the stranger as he smirked at me. Terrified, I edged to the corner, trying to make myself as small as possible. His eyes tracked my every movement and he licked his lips, stalking closer. Feeling nauseous, I looked around while praying for a quick escape.

There was none.

The stranger leaned into me and dwarfed my five-foot-five-inch frame. Panic surged to the surface as he sniffed my hair. His arms on either side of me kept me caged in with only a whisper of air keeping us from touching. I was panting as I tried to lean into the wall behind me. The giant grinned down at me and I squeaked as he reached to remove the earplugs. The elevator doors opened and I slumped in relief.

The police officer that lived on a floor above me stepped inside and eyed the giant as they spoke. The giant turned away from me to confront the officer, and I seized my chance to escape. I dashed around the giant and squeezed past the officer, making sure not to allow any parts of our bodies to touch. Even with the music raging, I could still hear the outraged yell from the giant.

I sprinted through the lobby and out onto the streets. Not wanting to chance the giant catching up to me, I turned left, not breaking my stride. I slowed down after running a couple of blocks and sighed in relief when I glanced behind me and saw no trace of the giant.

I jumped to the side to avoid touching a group of children running past me. I shook my head in disbelief. It was after ten o’clock on a school night. Shouldn’t they be at home studying or doing something equally productive? I smiled as I wondered what it would be like to have a family of my own.

Unease settled over me as I passed an alleyway. Shivering, I hurried past, hoping to outrun the feeling. I got no more than a few steps away before my footsteps faltered, then stopped. Panic crept over me as my body made an involuntary U-turn and returned to the mouth of the alley. Instead of pausing at the entrance, I stumbled in. Oh god no! Not again! Please, this cannot be happening again! My sanity slipped as my body fought against a pull I had never understood. It never varied ... I’d have a recurring vision for weeks and then one day I would be drawn to a certain location and the dream would become reality.

But this time was different. Tonight was the first night I had dreamed of a woman being murdered. No, not any woman, this woman. Certainty filled me, as I got closer to the woman lying in a pool of blood. Dread settled like lead in my stomach as I looked down and recognized the stab wounds. They were the same ones inflicted on me during the dream.

Awareness.

Gasping, I looked around.

Even through the music, I heard him. Can you appreciate beauty? This is one of my finest works.

Shocked, I stumbled backward. I definitely heard the voice, but there was no one there. How was this possible? This was the first time someone had deliberately sent a thought to me.

Ahh, so I was right. You can hear me. Finally, a kindred spirit. We are going to have so much fun together. The satisfaction I heard in his voice sickened me and almost drowned the fear.

For the first time in my life, I sent a thought to another person. I am nothing like you! You murdered this poor, innocent woman.

That voice chuckled. Poor, innocent woman? I met her only a couple of hours ago and had her willing to spread her thighs. No, this woman is no innocent.

I backed away and reached for my cell phone. There were so many dark corners and places to hide. I tried to regulate my breathing and bring my anxiety under control when the killer chuckled again. Never fear me. You are mine now and I protect what is mine. I’ll see you around.

A moment later, I felt his presence leave.

I looked down at the phone in my hand. I had to call for help. However, if I did, the police would ask questions. They would learn my name and everything would become public record. Dr. Johannasan would find me. Tears pricked as I continued to debate with myself.

I looked down at the woman, at her horrified expression and my will crumbled. I could not leave her like this. Dead in an alleyway. She was somebody’s mother. Sister. Aunt. Daughter. I can’t leave her alone in the dark. Inhaling raggedly, I grabbed my cell phone, dialed 911 and waited until I saw call connected.

A woman has been murdered in an alley on NE 136th Avenue behind Renee’s Café. Renee’s Café on NE 136th.

Call ended. I stared down at the blinking red words in disbelief until the phone’s display darkened. I tried twice more with the same results.

Crap! I did not want to take my earpieces out and risk vulnerability, but there was no other choice. Girding my loins, I took the earpieces out, screamed and dropped to my knees as thousands of whispers invaded my mind.

Somehow through the agony, I pressed redial and repeated the information and location once connected.

Officers are on their way. Sir, could you tell me your name? Sir? was the last thing I heard before I lost consciousness.

Chapter Two

I groaned as woodpeckers chipped away at what was left of my brain. I squinted and immediately closed my eyes again at the blazing light. It was a sharp contrast to the darkness.

A throat cleared along with brief hand-to-hand contact.

My eyes snapped open. I gasped as I looked up and met a man’s silver eyes sprinkled with flecks of gold. Those cool eyes made me feel safe and protected.

And the silence. Blessed, golden silence.

My breath caught at the realization. There were no intruding thoughts. No emotions pushed at me. No headaches, nausea, or feelings of impending doom. Just serenity.

I became addicted.

I held my hand out and he frowned at me as a lock of black hair drifted over his eyebrow, softening his severe facial features. He was not handsome in the classical sense and his face was too rugged to be cute. If I had to pick a word to describe his looks, I guess it would be manly or masculine. I allowed a soft, pleading expression to show as I continued to hold my hand out.

My mysterious benefactor cleared his throat as he stepped closer to grab my hand. I gasped and squeezed his hand as joy shot through me. The silence continued. Not even his thoughts intruded. The man tried to withdraw his hand. I tightened my grasp and refused with a shake of my head.

He glared at me and began to say something, but I beat him to it. Letting out a manly sigh, because darn it, it did not sound girly in