The Cure Read online

  Stop it!

  She couldn’t afford to freak out, not now. That could come later, if and when she got out of this latest mess. She laid her head against the floor, the chilly surface serving as a cold compress against her temple, bringing a bit of very welcome relief to her aching brain.

  After a time, her rapid heartbeat slowed down, bringing a further easing of her pain as the pounding in her skull diminished. With the headache retreating to a manageable level, she was able to think more clearly.

  Somehow Del had followed her—had probably been watching her all along—and now that he had her again, odds were he was planning on completing whatever scheme he’d had in mind for her the first time he’d taken her.

  “You’re going to make me a lot of money,” he’d said, or something to that effect. Was he planning on hiring her services to people like Nova and Marsh? Turn her into some kind of hit woman for hire? Or did he have something even more horrible in mind, like selling her to the mob?

  Or a foreign government?

  Images of being held captive by terrorists raced through her head, and her panic returned full force. Locked in a cell forever, starved, beaten, forced to constantly kill—

  Wait. I can’t Cure anymore. But Del doesn’t know that. And if he wants me to kill people, that means I have to Cure someone first… Oh God.

  John.

  Del knew about John. He was the only leverage Del—or anyone else—had against Leah. Which meant they probably had him locked away somewhere as well, or were in the process of kidnapping him. And when they found out Leah couldn’t Cure anymore, it wouldn’t be just her life that was forfeit. It would be John’s too because he was a witness.

  No! It’s not fair!

  She’d run away to keep John safe, and she’d still basically condemned him to death.

  They’re going to come for me, and that will mean John’s been shot or poisoned again. And what will I be able to do? Nothing. There’s no way I can fake Curing someone. I’ll have to stand there and watch him die. And I can’t bear to see that happen.

  Better they kill me first.

  And how to accomplish that?

  “I’ll find a way,” she whispered to the dark room.

  Chapter Three

  Del’s men came for her sooner than Leah expected. Or maybe she’d been dozing longer than she thought. Between the drugs and being alone in the dark room, her sense of time was completely out of whack.

  There was no warning to their entry; one minute everything was gray and silent, and the next a door opened, flooding the room with blinding light. She cried out and turned her head away, blinking back tears until she could open her eyes without pain.

  “Let’s go,” the taller man said. She thought it might have been one of the two who’d pulled her out of the bus station, but she couldn’t be sure.

  “Where are you taking me?” Not that it mattered. Wherever it was, only death awaited her. Still, as resigned to her fate as she felt, a spark of resistance remained inside her.

  “The man wants to talk to you,” her shorter captor said.

  “You mean Del?” she asked as they lifted her to her feet. The two men glanced at each other, and one raised an eyebrow to his companion, but neither responded.

  As they led her down a long hallway randomly lit by fluorescent bulbs, the rotten smell that had assaulted her earlier grew stronger, as if they were moving toward its source. It only took a few breaths for the odor to send her stomach into spasms, especially when she recognized some of the components of the stench.

  Blood. Raw flesh.

  Jesus, where the hell am I?

  Her legs started to buckle, and the hands gripping her arms tightened their hold with bruising force.

  “Relax, Doc. This ain’t that kind of visit. You do what the man says and you’ll be back in your little cave all safe and sound.”

  That’s what you think. Leah held back a moan. The two men thought she was afraid of dying. If only they knew the truth—she’d welcome death if it meant John could go free. And they were also wrong about her safety. She’d never be returning to the dark room they’d had her in, not once she showed Del her Power was gone.

  A door stood open at the end of the hall and the men steered her through it. When she saw Del sitting at a plain wooden desk, a cell phone to his ear, she knew her worse fears were about to come true. This time she didn’t try to fight the whimper that escaped her. One of the men laughed softly as he pushed her into a vacant folding chair, and she felt a moment of indignation that dissipated as soon as it formed.

  Let him laugh. What does it matter anymore?

  Del smiled at her, held up a finger in an “I’ll be with you in a moment” gesture and continued talking on the phone. Although she could only hear his end of the conversation, she got the idea he was setting up a meeting of some kind for the following day.

  A meeting she was sure involved her in some way. A demonstration? Or maybe he’d already sold her? Looking at his boyish, nondescript features, she wondered how such an ordinary face could hide such a terrible person. At least Tal Nova had the decency to look like a murdering criminal. This Del person could sit next to you on a plane or bus, and you’d never know you were two feet from a cold-blooded killer.

  Which was probably what made him so good at his job.

  He thumbed the phone off and turned to her.

  “Hi, Doc. Good to see you again. How are you feeling?”

  If you didn’t know better, you’d think he really meant it.

  “I feel like shit, thanks to all those drugs.” Except as she said it, she realized it wasn’t true. Her headache was finally fading as the drugs left her system; all that remained was the nausea from the terrible stink filling the air.

  “Sorry about that. But it’s a pretty good bet you wouldn’t have come with us willingly. What’s in Cleveland?”

  The question caught her by surprise, and for a moment she didn’t understand what he was talking about. Then she remembered the bus ticket she’d bought.

  “Nothing. A new life.” Dammit, why am I answering him?

  “A new life? Without your boyfriend?” Del raised his eyebrows in exaggerated surprise.

  The mention of John sent a chill through Leah that had nothing to do with the cool air in the building. Did they have him here as well?

  Del’s next words confirmed her suspicions.

  “I hate to see lovers separated. So you’ll be glad to know Mr. Police Officer is resting safely not far from here.”

  “Please don’t—” Leah stopped herself. What good was begging? It was obvious they intended to hurt him. Del already knew John was the key to getting her to use her Power.

  “Don’t what? Kill him? That’s up to you. Play nice and he stays alive.” Del’s expression grew dark and menacing, as if the killer inside him had surfaced, and suddenly he was very scary indeed. “Try using your powers against me or my men, though, and I’ll chop him into so many pieces even you couldn’t ever put him back together again.”

  His words reminded her that she’d killed one of his men, passed on John’s sickness and Del’s own gunshot wound all at once. Did he feel hatred towards her for that?

  Enough to kill her right here and now if she gave him the opportunity? She opened her mouth, fully intending to tell him that she’d lost the ability to Cure.

  Nothing came out.

  The words, so clear in her head, refused to leave her throat, leaving her gaping like a freshly caught fish.

  “Don’t look so surprised, Doc. You think I’m doing this for entertainment purposes? You’re my retirement package, and I’ll be damned if you ruin things for me by pulling some stunt like you did the other day. Now, you behave during tomorrow’s little presentation, and I’ll let you see your boyfriend afterward, maybe even have a little snuggle time. Consider it a reward for a
job well done. If you don’t, well, then your last memory of him won’t be a pleasant one. Do we understand each other?”

  Leah’s inner turmoil turned into full-blown confusion. John was definitely in the building somewhere! And whatever they had planned for her, it didn’t involve him. Which meant she could have a chance to say goodbye, to apologize for destroying his life.

  If you do what Del asks.

  And if she couldn’t do it, he’d kill her.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” Del said, breaking in on her thoughts. “Have a nice night, Doc. Tomorrow’s gonna be a great day.” He motioned with his hand and his two men stepped forward and took her by the arms.

  The walk back to her makeshift cell was a blur as Leah tried to make sense of the possibilities. Her thoughts were still in a whirl when the men locked the door. A tray sat on the desk, with a sandwich and a can of soda. The sight of them set her stomach rumbling and she grabbed the food as best she could with her hands still tied. The idea it might be drugged crossed her mind, but she didn’t stop eating. A drug-induced sleep would actually be preferable to spending the night awake and worrying.

  When she finished, Leah sat down on the floor and finally let loose the tears she’d been holding back. Sometime tomorrow she and John would both die. The only uncertainty would be who went first.

  She prayed it was her.

  She was still crying softly when the sedatives in her food took effect and put her to sleep.

  Chapter Four

  Leah woke to find a man bending over her, shaking her arm.

  “Wake up. The man wants to see you in an hour. You need to use the bathroom?”

  “What?” Leah tried to focus on his words. An hour? What time was it? Who was…?

  Del.

  Her thoughts grew clearer, cutting their way through the leftover haze of whatever they’d dosed her with. It was morning, and Del had some kind of demonstration planned, something that involved her.

  Rough hands shook her.

  “Hey! I said—”

  “I heard you.” Her words were as dry and cracked as her throat felt. “Bathroom. Yes.”

  She let the man haul her to her feet. The bathroom turned out to be one door down in the hallway. At one time it had been a public restroom with two urinals and two stalls. The guard started to close the door and Leah called out to him.

  “Wait. My hands.” She held up her hands, still bound at the wrists by a heavy plastic tie-wrap.

  “No.” He shut the door, leaving her alone in the musty room.

  “Thanks a lot,” she whispered, staring at her bound hands and trying to figure out how to get her pants down. In the end, it took a series of contortions before she could pee. Then it was a five-minute struggle trying to get her underwear and pants back on. As an act of defiance that meant little but made her feel better, she left the toilet unflushed. After splashing water on her face and struggling to get paper towels out of the dispenser, she tapped on the door to let the guard know she was ready.

  A large cup of Dunkin’ Donuts coffee was waiting in her cell, and she rushed across the room to it, the rich, dark aroma a siren call to her caffeine-starved body. Sipping the hot liquid, she found herself amazed at the human ability to find a bit of pleasure even in the most awful of situations. Here she was, most likely hours from her death, and still able to appreciate the simple joy of drinking coffee, experiencing an almost-sensual gratification from the complex flavors and scents.

  If this has to be my last meal, I’m all right with that.

  A morbid thought, but a real one. She’d been prepared for death since the renegade priest in the warehouse condemned her. She didn’t want it—every fiber in her being craved life—but she was ready to accept it. Better death than a life of endless Curing and killing as someone’s slave.

  The door opened without warning, and she wondered if the room was soundproofed. And if so, why? What kind of place had this been before Del took it over for his own purposes?

  Just like the last time, the long hallway stunk of stale blood and dead flesh, a metallic, bitter odor that coated her tongue and nostrils and kick-started her nausea again. It surprised her that she’d grown accustomed to the disagreeable smells, or at least to the less potent levels in her cell. In school she’d never gotten used to them, and had often felt like they lingered on long after she’d left the lab and showered, a phantom stench living inside her sinuses.

  Either immune to the death smell or better at masking his displeasure, Del was at his desk when she arrived, still dressed in the same clothes as the previous day. She figured it was a good bet he’d stayed up all night, crafting whatever nasty surprise he had in store for her.

  “Good morning, Doc. Sleep well?” he greeted, never looking away from the computer screen.

  “What’s going to happen to me?”

  He shrugged. “Like I told you before, that depends on you. Are you ready to get started?”

  “Please don’t hurt John. He’s been through too much already because of me.” Leah’s stomach churned as she spoke, her nausea mixing with guilt and anger at being in a situation that reduced her to begging.

  “Well, you can relax. Your boyfriend’s safe. At least for today,” he added, and the guard behind her chuckled.

  Del stood up and pointed at a second door across the office. “Right through there, Doc. Just do your magic and in an hour you can be holding hands or knocking boots or whatever you feel like with Mr. Police Officer.”

  Do your magic. Oh hell. Should I—

  “I can’t.” Leah’s feet, much like her mouth, suddenly decided to act on their own and she came to a stop by the door.

  “What?” Del came around and stood in front of her, his face even with hers. The expression on it was not a pleasant one. Behind her, the guard gave her arm a little twist, making her wince. “What do you mean you can’t?”

  “I can’t Cure anyone. Or anything. My Power. It’s gone.” Leah closed her eyes, anticipating a physical reaction. A punch, a slap. A broken arm.

  “Bullshit.”

  The door opened on squeaky hinges and hands pushed her forward. She opened her eyes as she entered a much larger room. This one contained a video camera on a tripod, a computer and eight monitors lined up on a table. More cameras were mounted in the corners of the ceiling.

  “Doc, this is no time to try and pull a fast one on me. I know all about you. I’ve got video of you killing one of my best associates, not to mention curing that cop. Bet you didn’t know that, did you? I’m not an idiot. I plan things down to the last detail. You think I could set something like this up without proof? Now, you’re gonna do as I ask or things are gonna get real painful for you.”

  Del took her arm and moved her to a position in front of the table.

  Leah shook her head but didn’t try to resist. “You don’t understand. The explosion…in that warehouse. It…it did something to me. The doctor said it was exhaustion, and maybe a concussion. Ever since that day, I haven’t been able to… I’ve been a normal person.”

  She looked at him, the man who’d caused her and John so much pain and suffering, and some of her old defiance rose up.

  “So if you want to kill me, do it now.”

  She expected him to get angry, but instead Del just smiled, a grin that didn’t reach his eyes at all.

  “A concussion? Exhaustion? Sounds like a cop-out to me. Heard it all the time in the service. Psychosomatic bullshit. I think with the right, shall we say, incentive, you’ll see how fast those powers of yours come back.” He leaned forward, and his smile disappeared. “At least, you better hope so, for the cop’s sake. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

  He moved to the table and flicked the computer screens on. As soon as they lit up, each one showed a different man’s face. Leah recognized all of them as criminals; how she knew it, she couldn’t say for
sure, but there was something about their looks, something hard and cruel they all shared, despite looking nothing like each other.

  “Good morning, gentlemen,” Del said to them, and they returned his greeting with gruff hellos or brief nods. “You all know why you’re here, so I won’t waste your time with explanations. This morning you will see the demonstration I told you about.”

  “Is that her?” one of the faces, that of an older, swarthy man with gray hair, asked.

  “Yes. And here is our test subject.” Del motioned to his guards, and one of them opened the door, revealing two more men leading a large, very nervous animal on a leash.

  A pig? They want me to Cure a pig? Leah eyed the beast as the two muscular men walked it in. It fought against the leash, and it took both men to keep it from breaking free.

  I don’t even want to go near that thing. She’d never handled a pig before. She estimated its weight to be at least two hundred pounds, recognized it as a half-grown Vietnamese pot-belly variety. A smart, intelligent animal. And dangerous. A pig that size could do real damage with its teeth, hooves and massive body.

  One of the men drew a wicked-looking knife from his belt and held it against the top of the pig’s fleshy neck.

  “Gentlemen, what you are about to see will be—”

  Before Del could finish, the pig emitted a loud squeal and leaped forward. It pulled the second guard to his knees and dragged him several feet before the leash yanked free.

  “Shoot it!” Del shouted, dodging to one side. On the monitors, several of the video conference attendees called out, asking what was going on.

  “A small delay,” Del said, reaching for the keyboard. His hand never made it, as the pig changed directions, causing him to leap out of the way again. The man on the floor was crawling after his gun, which he’d dropped when he fell. The guard with the knife charged after the frantic pig, which was much more agile than its would-be captors.