I’d figured as much.
Yeah, it’s going to take more than apologies to fix this mess.
#
Kerry
“Here.” Chance held out a rolled-up piece of paper.
I looked at him outta the corner of my eye. I wasn’t too up on trusting anyone right then.
We were about two hundred yards from camp, sitting on a flat boulder as the last of the stars faded. The watches had all gone smoothly, which I’d expected. Whatever had ripped that woman up needed a handler, and a handler wouldn’t have hung around so close to the scene.
No, he or she would want to gain some distance before setting the trap.
“Hey,” Chance said. “Take this.”
I reached over and took the tube of paper, careful to keep my fingers from touching Chance’s.
“What is it?”
“The lady’s name and address. In case you wanted to know later.” Chance shrugged. “Rome got it off her driver’s license. He gave the ranger his phone number and asked him to call or leave a message when they find her next of kin. He wants to talk to them. He’s big on closure like that.”
I took out my wallet, slipped the paper into one of the sleeves, and tucked it back in my jeans pocket. I didn’t want to think about the lady who’d died because something evil wanted to get to us.
At least, I was pretty sure that was why she was killed. Whether it was to confuse us or lure us into a trap, the woman was killed because of us. I got the sense Rome felt guilty about it, but my brain wasn’t set up that way. All it did was make me angry and more determined to find her killer and destroy it.
“I can feel what you do, you know.” Chance broke into my thoughts again. “I’m an empath.”
“What’s that mean?”
“I have a side skill for empathy.”
Empathy? I didn’t know that word.
“What do you mean, you can feel what I do? You mean the blister on my heel or—”
“Your emotions.” Chance shook his head. “All those miserable thoughts swirling around in your head. It’s making me dizzy.”
“I know a muse who gets sick from bad emotions. Good ones make him happy. Too much of either knocks him out.”
“The curse of a muse.” Chance nodded. “Empaths are a little different. I can’t influence your mood, only read your emotions. Usually, I need contact to read as much as I’m getting from you, but you’re incandescent. I imagine even a sensitive human could pick up on it. Your muse friend would pass out in a second if he were here. If you want, I can help you.”
I froze. I didn’t want anybody to help me, but I was gonna explode if I couldn’t get a handle on this wild firestorm inside me.
“What do you have to do? Even knowing you mean no harm, I don’t think I can let you touch me right now. I don’t wanna hurt you, but that’s what would happen.”
“I don’t need to touch you. We healers have to get pretty creative with delivering relief since touch isn’t always an option. Anyway, it won’t last forever, but I’d like to try apathy.”
I’d never heard of that word, either. It sounded like empathy, though, and they both sounded like sympathy.
Blah, blah, blah, something about emotions. Yeah, I sure could do without a few of those right now.
“Will it dull my senses?” I tilted my head. “I need to be on my toes. We’re going to run into the trap today.”
“A trap? Today? How do you know?”
“Well, maybe tomorrow,” I admitted, “but no later. That’s how the Diabolical think. Harass, lure, lay in wait, attack. And they aren’t patient. They’ll attack within a day.”