Home > Dead Angels (Kiera Hudson Series Two #2)

Dead Angels (Kiera Hudson Series Two #2)
Author: Tim O'Rourke

Chapter One


"What did he do to me?" I shouted at Potter.

"He killed you!" Potter said back, coming towards me from the other side of the table.

The windows in the consulting room rattled in their frames, as a steady wind blew hard outside.

"I know he killed me!" I snapped as he gripped my upper arms. I wasn't mad at Potter, I was mad at the thought of not knowing what Jack Seth had done to me before he had killed me. So many times I had looked into the killer's eyes and seen myself with him. I had watched as he had hurt me, paralysed me through fear or lust, so I couldn't fight him off.

"He's full of shit," Potter tried to calm me.

"Whatever he did to me, Seth said that I loved every moment of it," I reminded him, and the nightmarish images of Seth and me together that raced across my mind made me feel sick and violated.

Potter looked at Isidor and Kayla, who still sat around the table watching us, and hooked his thumb toward the door.

Knowing what he meant, Kayla pushed her chair back, stood up, and said, "I'm gonna go check on Sam." Then, fixing Isidor with a hard stare, she added, "Isidor, let's go and see if Sam is feeling any better."

"Okay, sure," Isidor said, and both of them left the room.

Once on our own, Potter looked into my eyes and said, "Don't let Seth put you in a mind-fuck. That's what he wants."

"But he said that he seduced that pathologist into telling him my name," I reminded him over the wind that was now beginning to pick up outside. Hearing this, Potter appeared to flinch in my arms. "Are you okay?" I asked.

Potter loosened his hold on me and stepped back towards the table. "I'm fine," he said, taking a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it.

"What's wrong?" I quizzed, suspecting that he was hiding something from me.

"Honest, I'm okay," he said, breaking my stare and going to the window where he peered up into the night sky. "It looks like a storm is coming."

"When have you ever given a crap about the weather?" I asked him, sensing that something wasn't right. "What aren't you telling me?"

"There's nothing to tell, sweet-cheeks," he said with his back to me and a cloud of blue smoke forming around his head.

Striding across the room, I went to join him at the window. "Don't shut me out, Potter. What do you know?"

"Nothing," he sighed, glancing at me, the cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.

"You're lying," I whispered, starting to feel nervous, yet I didn't know why. "Talk to me, Potter."

"I can't," he whispered back, staring out of the window.

It was so dark outside that I could see his reflection looking back at me, and I could see that his eyes looked darker than usual.

"You can't, or you won't?" I pushed, placing my hand gently on his muscular forearm.

"You're just gonna have to trust me," he said to the window.

"You're scaring me," I whispered, and I did feel scared. I was scared of what Seth might have done to me before tearing me to pieces. Did Potter know something about that? But how would he? We'd been together since coming back from the dead. No, Potter had left that day, the day he had gone to get my police badge and that picture of me and my dad.

"You have nothing to be scared of," he said, finally turning to face me. The look of sadness on his face frightened me more than anything. The last time I had seen such sorrow in his eyes was when he'd cradled Murphy's dead body in his arms beneath the Fountain of Souls.

"Is it Murphy?" I asked him, my voice barely a whisper as I looked into his eyes.

"Murphy?" he frowned, his eyes growing wide.

"I know you miss him," I said. "I know it's him you are thinking of when you sit and chain smoke in front of the fireplace. He was like a father to you  -  he was like a father to all of us. I wish he was here, too. I wish my father..."

"Stop," Potter said, raising his hand, and turning away. "I can't talk about this anymore."

"Why not?" I asked, pulling him back so I could look into his eyes.

Potter stared down at me, and with a grim and troubled look on his face, he said, "Kiera, I can't talk about this right now." Then, leaning in close, he planted the softest of kisses on my mouth.

"You know you can tell me anything," I whispered, brushing my cheek against his.

"Not everything," he whispered back.

Before I had the chance to ask what he meant by that, I heard Kayla scream.

Chapter Two


I followed my sister from the study, and closed the door behind me. Potter wanted to be alone with Kiera and that was cool with me. They had stuff they needed to talk about, and I'd probably say the wrong thing if I stayed. Potter would have gotten all cranky with me again, and I didn't have to do too much for that to happen.

I knew that Potter thought I was thick  -  a joke. Maybe I did get things wrong at times but I wasn't like him. I hadn't lived above ground as long as he had. He knew more about life above ground than me  -  that was a given. But I knew stuff too  -  I had seen things  -  and I wasn't just talking about episodes of "Scooby-Doo."

While Potter had been away, I'd tried to bring myself up to speed by checking the Internet for some of the stuff that Potter had talked about. I did it to keep up with him, like any younger brother who looks up to the elder one. But there seemed to be so much to learn about this strange world. And it was strange. It was strange way before it got pushed.

There was that word again. Pushed.

Push. I had seen that word before. But I had never suspected its significance until Kiera had written it down on that advert which Kayla and I had posted in the shop window. I had wanted to say something  -  I wanted to say that I had seen that word before  -  but would anyone have listened to me? Would I have been taken seriously? Not by Potter, that was for sure. He would have just ribbed me and told me I was talking shit again.

But I had kept quiet before and it had cost me my life  -  it had cost my sister's life. Back then, as we had crossed The Hollows, I felt that I was unable to say anything. I was scared that the others would have dismissed me  -  or worse, laughed at me. And could I have blamed them? Even when I was sure that Luke was really Elias Munn, I felt unable to tell my friends what I feared. I hadn't even been able to tell Kayla. I didn't think twice about killing a werewolf if I had to, I didn't hesitate drawing my crossbow in defence, but I was so often scared of saying what I felt for fear of...fear of what, exactly?

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