Heart's Blood (MxM)

Chapter 5

"You're telling me this is normal?" Dane Hunter's voice drifts through the open window to where I lay in the back seat of his car, sipping from my water bottle and waiting for the painkillers to kick in. "Because it doesn't seem normal," he adds.

Coleridge answers in a voice too low for me to hear.

"Seems like more trouble than he's worth," Hunter comments. "I don't need a psychic to tell me the vic was a homeless vet, or that he died at the scene."

This time, Coleridge speaks loud enough I can make out her words.

"Give him a chance, Dane. I know this isn't how you roll in the big city, but Hart's insights have proven useful in the past. Let him recover, and then listen to what he has to say. Sometimes it takes him a while to process what he's picked up."

Hunter grunts. "Fine. But next time assign someone else to circus duty. I'm not a babysitter."

They move away, and I miss whatever Coleridge says in reply.

The truth is, my reaction to this reading is not normal. Out of all the cases I've been asked to read so far, this one is by far the worst. The victim's death was awful, and I'd like nothing more than to forget everything I sensed from him and never think of it again, but I can't. It's what they pay me for, after all.

Footsteps approach, and then the door next to my head opens, flooding the interior of the car with painfully bright light. I groan in protest and cover my face.

"All right, Hart. Let's get this over with," Hunter says. His voice is gruff, but his hands are gentle as he helps me up and slides my dark glasses over my eyes. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just give me a minute," I grimace.

My headache still pounds like a hammer inside my skull, and the feeling of nausea lingers at the back of my throat. I swallow against it carefully. Hunter's opinion of me is not likely to improve if I puke in his car.

Another sip of water and a few deep breaths, and I feel like I can hold it together long enough to give my report.

I look up and find Hunter standing with his arms crossed, watching me with borderline impatience.

"Aren't you going to write this down?" I ask. "I'm not saying it twice."

"I'll write it up later. Now talk."

"Fine," I try to snap, but it comes out soft.

Taking a deep breath, I relay my findings.

"The victim saw his killer, but it was too dark and confusing to get a good look. I think the killer might've had a dog with him, too--a lot of the impressions were of...teeth and..."

I stop for a moment, remembering. When I go on, my voice is barely a whisper.

"It's like there was something inhuman about him. The thought I kept getting was... 'monster.' I think we're dealing with one messed up son-of-a-bitch here, Dane. The victim...he was alive for...too long."

I can't hold it in any longer and lean out the door to throw up. Fortunately, Hunter has quick reflexes and steps aside, saving his shoes.

"Sorry." I rinse my mouth with some water. "I'm usually not this squeamish, but it was...really bad. The guy was conscious, but I guess he was out of it, too. He actually thought the killer ripped him open with his bare hands and was..." I swallow again, "...eating him alive."

Hunter frowns at me.

"As interesting as that may be, it doesn't actually give us anything to go on. Do you have anything else?"