corridor.
“Is that normal?” she asked, hushed.
“During storm season.” Evan sounded doubtful. “Head through the door there to the elevators. First floor is reception. I’ll meet you down there after I check in to make sure there aren’t any issues.” He started back the way they’d come.
Kaylee watched him for a second then followed his instructions. She prayed the doors in the basement weren’t now all gaping open for their knitting-needle wielding maniacs to escape and attack her.
The thought made her breathing shallow. She punched the button to the elevator three times.
Shadowman left abruptly. Kaylee looked around, uncertain why his disappearance made her feel more unsettled.
I saved your life.
That was one version of things, and it might’ve been the right one. He had kept Amira from stabbing her again. But was she ready to accept that an invisible presence that sat on her balcony at night and stalked her the rest of the day had not only helped her but spoken to her?
Did it make her as crazy as the people here?
She hit the elevator button once more.
It yawned open, and she cringed to see the auxiliary lighting didn’t extend to the dark depths of the elevator. She couldn’t see inside.
Don’t be an idiot, she scolded herself. Besides, there’s only one way out of here.
Kaylee walked into the elevator and clicked the button for the first floor. She frowned, seeing the button for the basement glowing as well. As if someone else was in the elevator already.
She started to turn.
Someone grabbed her.
Chapter Eight
Nathan had been holding his breath, sensing the figure in the third floor lobby debate whether or not to get onto the dark elevator. He watched the colors of her aura, puzzled, but not interested enough to risk being discovered. The lighting was too low for him to make out anything but her shape. She looked … thick. Short and bulky.
Just when the elevator doors started to close, she waved her hand between them and moved into the elevator.
She was headed to the first floor. Probably a doctor or nurse working late who took the brief blackout as a hint it was time to leave.
He waited until the doors closed firmly before easing behind her and grabbing her. One arm snaked around her midsection. His other hand went across her mouth.
“Quiet,” he said.
Her clothing was bulky. The woman in his arm wasn’t bulky or thick. Her head came just to his chin, and her form felt firm, a layer of toned muscle beneath soft skin. She smelled like a cross between spice and antiseptic.
He tugged her back to the corner, automatically adjusting to the fact she seemed off-balance. She wasn’t struggling and had made no attempt to scream. Her body molded perfectly into his, her hair tickling his nose and her scent lacing through his senses. There was an intangible familiarity about her or maybe, the sense she was in his arms because she was supposed to be.
Something’s not right. I shouldn’t feel like I know her.
“At the count of three, I’m going to let you talk. You’re going to tell me where patient forty one is,” he said slowly, his lips pressed to her ear. “If you scream or give me any other answer but the one I want, this may not go well for you. Nod if you understand.”
She nodded.
“One, two, three.” He released her mouth and wrapped his arm around her neck instead.
The woman’s breathing was uneven. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know,” he repeated.
One of the gifts he had as a spirit guide was the ability to tap into the energy from the Other Side. He did so now and pushed it into the woman. What her aura wouldn’t tell him, the energy might. It would read her body.
She was recently injured and under the influence of some sort of drug, which explained her strange calm.
With one arm around her neck, he released her body and reached across her to grip her left shoulder.
“No!” Her cry was a strangled whisper. She squirmed, tensing against his
“Is that normal?” she asked, hushed.
“During storm season.” Evan sounded doubtful. “Head through the door there to the elevators. First floor is reception. I’ll meet you down there after I check in to make sure there aren’t any issues.” He started back the way they’d come.
Kaylee watched him for a second then followed his instructions. She prayed the doors in the basement weren’t now all gaping open for their knitting-needle wielding maniacs to escape and attack her.
The thought made her breathing shallow. She punched the button to the elevator three times.
Shadowman left abruptly. Kaylee looked around, uncertain why his disappearance made her feel more unsettled.
I saved your life.
That was one version of things, and it might’ve been the right one. He had kept Amira from stabbing her again. But was she ready to accept that an invisible presence that sat on her balcony at night and stalked her the rest of the day had not only helped her but spoken to her?
Did it make her as crazy as the people here?
She hit the elevator button once more.
It yawned open, and she cringed to see the auxiliary lighting didn’t extend to the dark depths of the elevator. She couldn’t see inside.
Don’t be an idiot, she scolded herself. Besides, there’s only one way out of here.
Kaylee walked into the elevator and clicked the button for the first floor. She frowned, seeing the button for the basement glowing as well. As if someone else was in the elevator already.
She started to turn.
Someone grabbed her.
Chapter Eight
Nathan had been holding his breath, sensing the figure in the third floor lobby debate whether or not to get onto the dark elevator. He watched the colors of her aura, puzzled, but not interested enough to risk being discovered. The lighting was too low for him to make out anything but her shape. She looked … thick. Short and bulky.
Just when the elevator doors started to close, she waved her hand between them and moved into the elevator.
She was headed to the first floor. Probably a doctor or nurse working late who took the brief blackout as a hint it was time to leave.
He waited until the doors closed firmly before easing behind her and grabbing her. One arm snaked around her midsection. His other hand went across her mouth.
“Quiet,” he said.
Her clothing was bulky. The woman in his arm wasn’t bulky or thick. Her head came just to his chin, and her form felt firm, a layer of toned muscle beneath soft skin. She smelled like a cross between spice and antiseptic.
He tugged her back to the corner, automatically adjusting to the fact she seemed off-balance. She wasn’t struggling and had made no attempt to scream. Her body molded perfectly into his, her hair tickling his nose and her scent lacing through his senses. There was an intangible familiarity about her or maybe, the sense she was in his arms because she was supposed to be.
Something’s not right. I shouldn’t feel like I know her.
“At the count of three, I’m going to let you talk. You’re going to tell me where patient forty one is,” he said slowly, his lips pressed to her ear. “If you scream or give me any other answer but the one I want, this may not go well for you. Nod if you understand.”
She nodded.
“One, two, three.” He released her mouth and wrapped his arm around her neck instead.
The woman’s breathing was uneven. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know,” he repeated.
One of the gifts he had as a spirit guide was the ability to tap into the energy from the Other Side. He did so now and pushed it into the woman. What her aura wouldn’t tell him, the energy might. It would read her body.
She was recently injured and under the influence of some sort of drug, which explained her strange calm.
With one arm around her neck, he released her body and reached across her to grip her left shoulder.
“No!” Her cry was a strangled whisper. She squirmed, tensing against his
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