End of the Road Read online

“They’re coming,” she said and grabbed Alice’s hand. Less than a second later the pair were invisible again and plunged back into darkness. Elizabeth led them back out into the corridor and they hurried away from the people she could sense, further into the building.

  ***

  With a sigh of relief Sherdan put his pen back down. The list was complete and wasn’t as long as he’d expected it to be. He glanced up at the window as he had been doing every few minutes and had to glance again. The two kids were gone.

  He scrambled up and rushed over to the window, glancing as far down the street as he could each way. Still no sight of them.

  He tried not to think about what might have happened as he ran from his study through to the front of the house and out the door. He went over to the blanket and their dolls, picking both the abandoned toys up and pulling them tight against his chest.

  As his heart raced he spun on the spot, trying to see where they’d gone before he thought to try and sense Elizabeth or Alice using their abilities. He closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind, no way near as good at this as his daughter.

  He almost screamed his frustration as it didn’t work. Too many thoughts and feelings were crashing around inside him to allow clear thinking. Every person and organisation who might have a reason to snatch the girls flew through his thoughts, let alone the fall out from the natural disasters lately. Anything could have happened.

  Not knowing what else to do he started running towards the end of the road. As he reached the barrier he felt a flicker of someone using an ability nearby but it was just a fleeting sensation. Before he could pinpoint the location it was gone again.

  He jumped the metal obstruction and scanned down the next road for signs of the kids. There were only more battered houses and abandoned cars.

  “Elizabeth! Alice!” he yelled. If anyone else was out there, he needed to find the girls before they did and he didn’t have time to be cautious.

  Realising he’d left his hand gun in the desk drawer he started running down the road, calling their names every minute or so.

  Suddenly he ground to a halt, his ability finally picking up something definite back in the old university area of the compound. With his heart pounding he sprinted towards the building.

  ***

  The two girls had relaxed since their scare and started chatting about their adventure again as they walked along the deserted hallways.

  “Sshhh,” Elizabeth said. “I heard something.”

  Down a corridor to the right came the noise of footsteps. Both girls froze to the spot, allowing the intruder to move towards them.

  “Daddy! Mummy!” Alice yanked herself out of Elizabeth’s grasp, making herself visible, and went charging towards the two people who came around a corner and finally showed themselves. Elizabeth laughed and deactivated her invisibility as well.

  Nathan, the burly security guard swept Alice up into his arms while his wife, Julie, came towards Elizabeth and took hold of her hand.

  “What are you two doing down here?” Nathan said into her head. Something she was very used to by now.

  “I felt you using your ability. We came to have an adventure too,” she thought and grinned at him.

  “An adventure? Well I’m afraid today’s adventure is over. Let’s go back to the house.”

  Elizabeth allowed herself to be led back the way they’d come, chattering to Julie the whole way and telling her what they had got up to. As they reached the entrance Sherdan came rushing up to them and scooped Elizabeth into his arms, handing her the doll at the same time.

  “Where have you been?” he said, as she wrapped her skinny arms around his neck.

  “They were having an adventure,” Nathan said out loud.

  “I wanted to go on one like mummy is.”

  “Sweetheart, now’s not the time for adventures, and what did I say when you asked me if you could play outside?”

  “Put my shoes on?”

  “Not to go past the end of the road,” Alice chimed in from her father’s arms.

  “Exactly. When you play outside you can’t go any further than the barrier, there, at the end of the road.”

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  Chapter 15

  Living Ink

  By Shirley Bourget

  As the needle pushed through my skin and left a blue line, it was every bit as vibrant as Baine said it would be. Brilliant and energetic. I immediately knew that I’d be buying his tattoo ink.

  He pulled at my skin with his left hand, unconscious of his thumb placement as he stretched the curve of my left breast flat for his work.

  My blood boiled from the heat of his touch, pulsing hard at my temples and I tried to ignore the sting of pleasure he was inflicting on me.

  He made a few more passes with the tattoo gun and then wiped my skin with an absorbent, disposable towel. The disinfectant on the towel caused me to wince and an involuntary hiss escaped my lips.

  “Sorry.” He apologized without needing to. I knew that it was unavoidable. Everything about Baine Finlayson hurt. Even that one word stabbed at my chest with the pressure of a sharp knife about to release something primal and unyielding.

  He applied the finishing antibiotic ointment to my butterfly and let me sit up, looping a finger under the fabric of my sundress and slowly pulling it back into place.

  I looked into his eyes as his finger slid between my bodice and me. They showed me what my own mind was thinking, that he’d rather be pulling it down. I had rolled the strapless garment away from my breast enough for him to work on my tattoo, but not enough to expose more than needed and more than once during the application process, I found myself wanting him to throw the gun aside and run his fingers over my flesh instead. The chemistry between us was mounting and each time he came near me, I found it harder and harder to keep my mind and body on the same plain. It was as though a magical heat of passion and desire came to life between us and his very nearness made me want to forget everything else as I gave in to my need to feel his flesh pressed against me.

  I looked down at my newly applied butterfly and smiled. It was exquisite. If I hadn’t known better I would have sworn that a living creature was sitting on my skin.

  He had nestled the tattoo on the upper edge of my left breast, in the space near my left armpit. The butterfly’s head appeared as though it might be investigating the dark crevasse between arm and breast as it lay on the curved swell of my milky, white skin.

  For a moment I felt as though I could actually sense the flutter of the creature’s wings and a light vibration moved beneath my skin. It was accompanied by a spread of pins and needles, which traveled up from the design towards the base of my neck.

  I’ve felt this type of sensation before, but in my hand, after using the tattoo gun on one of my own clients. It comes from the repetitive reverberation of the gun and the needles bouncing at such high velocity.

  Baine smiled broadly as I examined myself. He could tell I was pleased.

  When I looked in his eyes, I saw the raw hunger that his hot Irish blood directed at me. A wave of new heat shot through me crowding out my better judgment and I reached forward, pulling him into me as my mouth closed on his.

  He didn’t resist. His mouth worked mine with all of the pent up desire we had both been feeling since our first meeting in his father’s pub.

  The skin beneath my butterfly began to throb and ache in a strange way. The beating of my heart became so strong that I thought it might jump out of my chest. The tingling sensation mounted with unexplained pressure and its intensity made me break our embrace. I looked at my tattoo again, not sure what I expected to find but feeling as though my skin had just split open and that my heart would be hanging from the gaping hole. I was sure that the butterfly was being crushed between us, and I didn’t understand how, but I was feeling its pain. The visible flutter under those butterfly wings sent chills up
my spine. I panicked and looked up at Baine. He had an odd expression on his face and for a brief moment, I saw my alarm and worry mirrored back through his eyes.

  I heard him call my name, “Ivy!” but I was unable to speak. An explosion ripped through me and fire tore from the tattoo down to my toes. My head started reeling. I couldn’t breathe. Hot whiteness clouded my eyes and I closed them to keep from vomiting.

  I felt myself moving and in a moment the pain began to subside, almost as quickly as it had erupted. I felt as though I were floating. No, not floating. Flying?

  When I opened my eyes, I saw my body on the tattoo bench. Baine knelt over me, calling my name over and over as he shook my shoulders and listened to my chest. I felt my heart beating there, in that body, but also here where I was, fluttering above the scene.

  His mouth was on mine again, only blowing this time, not kissing and I gasped at the force of air that took away my breath. I coughed and sat up, pushing him away so that my lungs could fully fill with air.

  “Are ya alright?” he still held me by the shoulders and I heard and saw his fear as he questioned me.

  “Yeah, at least I think so.” But I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure what had just happened to me. My pulse was still racing and my body still felt as though it was being burned.

  “Drink this.” He handed me a glass of water and I downed it.

  “Well, I have ta say that’s the first time I’ve err made a girl faint from a kiss.” He sat down on his work stool and wheeled it up to the bench so that he was sitting between my knees and he held my hand to keep an eye on me.

  “I don’t think I fainted…not really. I’m not sure what happened.” I laughed lightly, trying to ease the tension I’d heard in his voice. I could tell by his tone that he was sort of apologizing for kissing me and taking me off guard, but it was I that had kissed him.

  “And it’s not your fault. I kissed you, remember?” I put my hand on the side of his cheek and ran my thumb over his mouth in my own kind of apology. This made me think of Greylin and I tensed. He had done something similar the night I met him back in Quincy. The night I wanted him to kiss me, and he didn’t.

  How is it that so little time seemed to pass since that night with Greylin and yet I had all but forgotten him? I had been so ready to throw caution to the wind and change the course of my life forever on a whim. Now I struggled to remember what exactly had transpired between us and why it was that I had been so willing to give my heart to him.

  Baine moved his hand over mine, pulling my palm to his lips in a soft yet sensual caress and pulled my thoughts back to the present. His mouth moved over my palm, lightly skimming my flesh until he came to the inside base of my wrist, where he let his tongue and teeth gently taste my rising pulse. He slipped his other arm around my hips and pulled me from the workbench onto his lap.

  I went willingly, letting the motion push the hem of my skirt up over my thighs as I straddled him. The rough fabric of his jeans against my bare thighs added to the hardness of his body.

  His mouth found my lips again and we began to kiss one another for a second time. My chest rose and fell with the hurriedness of my quickening breath and my heart started to pound once more.

  The butterfly once again fluttered between us. Electricity mixed with a strange and unexpected energy ebbed throughout my body. The explosion of white once again took me away on its heat as I felt my mind leaving the woman sitting below me.

  Only this time when I opened my eyes against its onslaught and the strange and wild energy coursing through my veins carried me higher on its brightening stream, my mind saw the human forms awkwardly sprawled on the floor near the workbench and I knew that Baine Finlayson was with me.

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  Chapter 16

  Anywhere

  By C.A. Newsome

  Kitty stumbled out of Teresa Waxler’s house, furious at herself, furious at Tom. She’d let him bring her to this juvenile puke fest. She knew it wasn’t her kind of party, but Tom said if she didn’t want to go, he’d go alone. Then he got plastered and started acting like an ass. Now she was bolting into the night without a clue where she was going.

  She spotted Joe across the road, leaning against his Chevy pickup. He had one foot propped behind him on the rusted fender and his arms folded across his chest. His real name was George. Only his teachers called him that. He was Injun Joe, or just Joe. She wondered if the tough crowd he hung with knew he’d named himself after a Mark Twain villain. Probably not.

  He was a little shorter than she was, with skin that browned as soon as the sun came out and straight black hair almost down to his shoulder blades. He wore jeans and work boots in spite of the heat. His shirt was unbuttoned and a narrow strip of chest showed. He was motionless, like a snake considering prey. Smoke curled from his cigarette. It played hide and seek with one high cheekbone.

  Joe was watching her with those dark eyes, his chin lifted. A hint of a sneer challenged her. He gave her a faint nod. Acknowledgment? Or just affirming his own opinion of her personal drama?

  Oh, Yeah? Kitty abruptly changed course and headed for the old truck. Think you know me?

  “Give me one of those,” she demanded, gesturing to his cigarette.

  “You don’t smoke, Buttercup.” He lazily placed the filter between his lips and drew in. The end lit up, illuminating his face, red pinpoints reflecting in his eyes.

  “Don’t call me that. And how would you know?”

  “I know a lot of things about you. Buttercup.”

  She ignored the provocation. “Like what?” She dared.

  “Like you’re too smart for that asshole you date, for one.”

  “And?”

  “What are you doing here, Buttercup? Aren’t you afraid your grade point average is going to drop?”

  “I’m not some nerd. Give me one of those,” she repeated.

  “Aren’t you, now?” He kept his eyes on hers as he pulled the pack of Marlboros out of his shirt pocket and shook out a cigarette.

  She took the cigarette and held it up, waiting. “What are you doing out here, anyway? This isn’t exactly your scene.”

  “Just enjoying the show.” He lit a match, cupping it in the still air as he held the flame for her. His hand brushed hers. An electric sensation pulsed through her as their hands touched. Had he felt it? She stepped back and puffed, nurturing the ember.

  Kitty looked away and dragged on her cigarette. She knew better than to take it into her lungs. She blew out carefully to avoid coughing.

  She looked sideways at him. “You don’t talk much, do you?”

  He shrugged. “You going to inhale that thing?”

  “Are you always this rude?”

  “Usually. Remind me not to share a joint with you. I hate waste.”

  “Do you want it back?” She held her cigarette out to him. He took it from her, gently tamped it out on the side of his truck and returned it to the pack.

  She crossed her arms. “I just wanted something to do with my hands,” she groused.

  “I can think of plenty you could do with your hands, Buttercup.”

  “Why do you call me that?”

  He grinned. “Because it bugs you.”

  Kitty huffed. Light speared out from the house as the front door opened, drawing her attention. Tom was silhouetted in the doorway. He stormed into the yard, bearing down on them.

  “Get me out of here.”

  “Trouble in paradise, Buttercup?”

  “Can we just go?”

  “Where to?” The passenger door squealed as he opened it for her.

  She climbed up. “Anywhere.”

  “Not home?”

  “No way.”

  She looked through the rear window as they pulled out. Tom was in the middle of the street, fists on hips, enraged. She leaned back against the bench seat, smug.

  She’d spent the last month as Tom’s girl. Being Tom’s girl mostly meant being the adoring witness to his awesome-ness. It was bo
ring. She had the feeling that who she was didn’t matter. She could be one of a dozen females, and any one of the others could slide neatly into her place without Tom ever noticing the difference.

  At least she hadn’t ’done it’ with him. He’d pushed, he’d kept pushing. Whatever she was supposed to feel, she hadn’t felt it. So she kept saying no. She took a moment to be relieved.

  Perhaps Joe was the only port in a storm, but at least he was fully aware of her. She couldn’t explain how she knew this. She felt amazingly . . . something. Amazingly, well, ‘here.’ She lowered her lashes and observed him from the corner of her eye as he tucked another cigarette between his lips, the same one she’d started, and coaxed it back to life from the old one.

  They rode in silence punctuated by the whining and grinding of the truck’s gears. He headed out of town, then turned off on a section line road.

  “Where are we going?”

  “We’re going anywhere, Buttercup. You ever been there?”

  “I guess not.”

  Should she be worried? She’d heard about boys who drove girls out in the country and refused to drive them back home unless they put out. The stories were vague. It always happened to “this girl,” or “my friend told me about a friend of hers.” Never any names.

  If it came to that, she’d be able to spot the town lights over the tree line. A long walk might be just what she needed to cool out. She discovered part of her was spoiling for a fight.

  The boy beside her was silent as he drove, right hand on the wheel, his left elbow resting on the door frame. He’d barely touched her, just the once, when he lit her borrowed cigarette. He gave no hint to his intentions; no clue what was going to happen next. She felt prickly all over as each moment, each mile, took her further into the unknown. She didn’t know if she liked the feeling, but she wasn’t bored.

  The motor droned as she hung her arm out the window and felt the air rushing through her fingers. She wondered what he was thinking.

  The fields gave way to woods that crowded the road, rising over them and blocking out the sky. Joe turned onto a lane that was barely more than a pair of tire tracks in the high grass. He jammed his cigarette into the ashtray and put both hands on the wheel. The truck humped and bucked over ruts and fallen branches. Trees closed in around them, shutting out everything except the bouncing headlights. Then the track disappeared.