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IF THIS SOUL
by
Disclaimer:
For full disclaimers, please see part 1
Chapter Four
Old Connections
"Mac. It's O'Neill. Pick up." Macmillan tossed her unread newspaper aside and stared at the answering machine. She was surprised at the sound of her ex-partners voice. It was early, barely six o'clock in the a.m. "Mac, please. We need to talk." She listened to the urgency in the woman's voice and picked up on frustration, panic, and the beginning of anger. Mac glanced down at the front page of the Gazette. There was a picture of Martin Prague when he was very much alive. The lead sentence read 'Ladies' man brutally murdered in pagan ritual slaying.' Macmillan ground her even, white teeth together and her lips curled into a snarl. 'I'm going to kill you, Hal.' "Mac, pick up the goddamned phone! I know you're home!" Macmillan picked up the phone, effectively shutting off the answering machine.
"Pride here."
"Damn it, Mac!" O'Neill's anger was quick to the surface. "You ever hear of actually answering the phone before the machine picks up?" she ground out. 'Oil and water.' Mac thought to herself.
"Humh, now there's a theory," Mac baited. "Want to hang up and test it?"
"Fuck you, Mac."
"You've already done that, remember?" The bitterness in Macmillan's voice was sobering. O'Neill sighed heavily on the other end, her anger sufficiently diffused.
"I don't want to do this with you, Mac. I didn't call to argue." Her voice sounded shaky and for some inexplicable reason it caused Mac to glance back down at the front page of the Gazette. She frowned slightly.
"I don't want to fight with you either." Her voice lost its rough edge. "Friends, no looking back, right?" She reminded herself and O'Neill of the pact they had ended their relationship on. O'Neill sighed again and Mac knew the woman was running the fingers of her left hand through long, chestnut curls.
"Friends, no looking back," O'Neill agreed. She was smiling now and Macmillan could feel it. Connor O'Neill gave off emotion like fire threw off heat. It had engulfed Mac once and nearly burned her up. She'd gotten too close to the fire, hungry for the sensations of emotion she felt from Connor. After years of subduing her own chaotic emotions, Connor was an intoxicant for Mac's natural empathic abilities.
Connor's fire had sparked her own, and the two flames burned uncontrollably, nearly consuming each other. Emotions constantly in upheaval, they had begun to fight all the time towards the end. But Connor had been strong enough to do what Mac couldn't. She had walked away from their three-year relationship, their four-year partnership on the beat, and a six-year promising career in law-enforcement. "I need your help, Mac," she was saying softly. "I tried to get up with you last night but I couldn't find your new cell number." Connor took a deep breath before continuing. "I think what I have to tell you may have some bearing on a very recent incident you may be looking into." Mac glanced at the paper again, her eyes narrowing at the possibilities of finding a lead.
"Jolia's." She spoke abruptly into the phone. "Lunch, twelve-thirty."
There was a brief pause and then, "That'll be fine. I gotta run, Mac." She heard the click and held the phone to her ear for a moment longer, her mind rewinding and playing back the murder scene from the motel. She replaced the phone on the cradle, and stood up to pace restlessly about her living room. It was entirely possible, she reasoned, that in O'Neill's new chosen profession she might have stumbled onto something to do with this murder. The thought made her shudder. 'Was O'Neill in danger?' If she had stumbled upon some tangible evidence, that was certainly a possibility.
As much as cops hated copycats, Mac found herself preferring to believe that Prague's death was nothing more than someone trying to re-stage the Kellingher slayings. His victims had been women and men between the ages of twenty-five and thirty. Prague, who had been twenty-nine, fell into that age group.
It had appeared that Kellingher had been picking his victims at random. Now, Mac wasn't so sure. But further investigation had not found any similarities between the victims. The resemblance between the mutilations of their bodies and Prague's had been uncanny. Right down to the parchment papers with ancient Gaelic writings left behind. But Mac had been sure that the parchments found at the other crime scenes had not been circulated to the press.
She was aware that on Friday, Kellingher had granted an interview to O'Neill's partner.
The captain had called her personally to let her know that O'Neill and Montgomery had gotten the location of the other victims. That had perplexed her before, and now it was a maddening question mark. She didn't know Katerina Montgomery personally, only from the cover of her True Crimes magazine. Mac snarled with distaste at that. She hated O'Neill's new choice of careers. Why would Kellingher single out this particular reporter for an interview? There had to have been some kind of significance behind it.
Kellingher had been sullen and withdrawn when they had finally caught up with him. He had not denied charges, and had admitted to the slaying of the victims the police had found. He had even described the murders in detail. There had been no doubt that he was guilty.
No one but the killer could have described so vividly the details that Marcus Kellingher had recalled. But when further questioned, even with the promise of leniency, he had refused to admit or deny whether there had been other victims. Or divulge the reasons behind his killing spree. 'So why was he talking now? And why to Katerina Montgomery?' Another question burned in her thoughts. 'Had Kellingher been acting alone?'
~~~
Connor was anxious. The front page of the Monday morning gazette lay on her desk. She had re-read the story twice and couldn't help the fear that gnawed at her gut. She glanced at the Timex on her wrist. '2 hours late' She sat restlessly behind her own desk and stared at Kat's unoccupied chair. 'It's not like her to be late.' She had tried unsuccessfully to reach Kat over the weekend and again fifteen minutes ago. But her partner had not answered or returned any of her calls.
They had returned to their office at Inside View: News and Investigative Reporting, Friday afternoon after the disturbing interview with Kellingher. It had been obvious to O'Neill that Kat had still been deeply troubled and upset at having been singled out by the serial killer. Any attempts to draw her out and get Kat to talk about it had been met with resistance.
Connor had walked across their shared office and had seated herself on the edge of her partner's desk on Kat's side. The blonde had glanced up at her with a blank expression and then had returned her attention to the papers spread out before her.
"Do you need me to sit in on the editing of the tape?" Connor had asked. Kat had been going over Connor's notes and sketches. Kat had once again met the woman's concerned gaze, and she had smiled wanly at Connor's attempt and shook her head.
Whenever they landed big story like this, they hired a cameraman or crew and waited for bids to come in from the major television stations. Kat had always maintained the right to sit on the tape until the release of the edition of Inside View Magazine that featured the written story.
In the news industry, information about a major score like this traveled fast. Almost as soon as they had gotten the call from Kellingher's lawyer granting them an interview, they had begun receiving bids from major television corporations to air the piece on their network. The networks were familiar with Kat's style and her strong presence on camera, and knew a rating's winner when they saw one.
"It's okay. I can handle it." The blonde had returned her attention to the work at hand as if expecting Connor to go back to her own desk. The taller woman had been reluctant to move and put distance between herself and her partner. In the past, she had always willingly given Kat space, hoping that eventually the blonde would open up and maybe let her in a little.
The attraction was there. She could feel it between them, often times as powerful as crossed wires jerking with heat and tension. Connor had felt it then, as she sat on the edge of Kat's desk.
She had placed her hands securely in her lap and had clenched them together, to stop herself from reaching out and running the back of her right knuckles gently along a soft fair cheek. Connor had found herself frozen, unable to move. Neither backwards towards her desk nor forward to grasp the woman's hand, pull Kat to her feet and engage beautiful blonde in a kiss, though had she truly wanted to. She had been startled out of her wistful thinking by the unexpected warmth of a touch on her left thigh. They had locked gazes and her breath had caught in her throat at the heated look of desire that had flashed so briefly in those green eyes. It might have been a trick of the imagination. The hand on her thigh had tightened for an instant, provoking a response of craving in a slightly higher region of Connor's body. And then just as suddenly, the light pressure on her thigh had vanished.
Kat had snatched her hand away in realization of what she had been doing. Her expression had become guarded and Connor had found herself frustrated at the woman's apparent retreat from the attraction between them. She had thought to herself 'Damnit, there has to be some way to get past those walls.'
She had been about to speak when Kat had whispered, "I have to go work on the tape." The guarded look in green eyes had gone and had been replaced by fear. Her skin had turned pale and when Connor had reached out for her in concern, Kat had flinched and then had snapped harshly, "No, Connor." She had gotten to her feet abruptly and then had offered an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. I'll be fine, really." She had handed O'Neill the notes and sketches. "You work on making this a Pulitzer. I'll handle making that tape an award winning piece."
Instinctively, O'Neill had reached out, clasped the woman's smaller left hand in her right one and had squeezed gently. "It can wait until Monday. Give yourself some distance - a chance to..." Kat had stared down in surprise at her hand clasped in O'Neill's. O'Neill had released her quickly. "Kat, I know you..."
"No, Connor. You don't know me." Her voice had taking on a hard edge as she had put distance between herself and her partner. Stung by the sharp reprimand, Connor had looked down at her clenched fist.
"I'd like to." She had spoken without thinking and had immediately regretted it. The silence that had followed the inadvertent slip had become thick and had threatened to choke her. She had glanced up, intending to apologize and immediately the hairs on the back of her neck had stood on end. She could have sworn for a moment that Kat's usual pale green eyes, the irises and pupils, had flashed a terrifying red.
"Be careful what you wish for, O'Neill." Kat's voice had become deadly calm. Her eyes had been devoid of expression when she had looked squarely at the seated woman. There had been no indication of the deeply troubled woman had existed moments earlier. "I'll be in editing."
That said, she had turned, and had left the office and O'Neill had not seen her since.
Now, trying to calm the rising panic at her partner's continued absence, O'Neill grabbed up the remote on her desk. She flipped on the wide screen television in time to catch the last few moments of the half-hour, eleven-o-clock morning news. Her eyes widened in shock at the picture that flashed across the screen. She fumbled clumsily with the buttons on the remote before finally finding the right one and turning up the sound.
"Sometime this morning, convicted serial killer Marcus Kellingher was found murdered in his prison cell. Regarding the circumstances of his death, authorities have refrained from further comment, stating only that a prison lock-down is being enforced and an immediate investigation into the mysterious death has been launched. For more information, tune in to KBC evening news at 6."
"Oh My God!" Connor was out of her seat and bolting for the door. "Kat!"
Chapter Five
My soul to Keep:
It had been late Friday night when Kat had returned home. She had evaluated the taped interview with Kellingher over and over until her eyes could no longer focus on the screen.
Katerina was terrified. Alone and away from prying eyes, she could admit that. She was terrified at the obvious message and the hidden meaning behind his words.
She lay awake for a long while in her king-sized bed, staring up at the ceiling, her mind still busily working in duality. Part of it was reliving the nightmare of Kellingher's interview and the other part was reliving how soft Connor's cheek had been when she'd kissed it. What had prompted her to do such an uncharacteristic thing baffled her. But standing outside that interview room while trying gather her wits together, Connor's presence had been … comforting. The gentle tone of her voice had had a soothing affect on Kat's raw nerves and the energy touching her from the woman's close proximity had stirred Kat's emotions in such a powerful way that made her want to reach out and touch Connor.
In the past, she'd rarely shared more than a handshake with the woman or a brief touch on the arm when getting her attention. The longer they worked together, the more difficult it was becoming for Kat to keep her at arms length. Kat raked her fingers through her blonde tresses in a restless motion and turned over on her side.
Connor was a talker. That thought brought a brief smile to Kat's face. Connor had shared much of her childhood with her during long nights of waiting in dark corners for informants to show up or for tips about secret rendezvous to pay off. Kat always listened, enjoying the silken tones of the woman's voice and drawn in by tales of a happy and safe home. There wasn't much about the woman she didn't know. And if Connor felt cheated by Kat not having reciprocated with her own tales, she never mentioned it and she didn't request information. Kat was grateful for that.
They'd worked together in close confines quite often, on stakeouts or going undercover to get the behind-the-scenes stories. Kat had made a point of limiting their physical contact to as little and as brief as possible. She remained amicable but slightly aloof in Connor O'Neill's presence, but that didn't mean that she was unaware of the woman's attractiveness or that she was unaffected by it; quite the contrary was true. She had often imagined running her fingers through those dark tresses as she pulled the taller woman's face towards her for a heated kiss and had dreamed of Connor's long muscular legs wrapped around her as they engaged in heated passion. She wanted Connor. At times, her body pulsed with sexual desire for the woman.
But that was a dangerous avenue to pursue, dangerous for Connor O'Neill. A frown marred her brow as she recalled her cold treatment of the woman when last they had spoken before Kat had stormed out of the office. Her partner's feeling had been hurt, but that had been unavoidable.
She had almost allowed herself to make a huge mistake. When she had touched Connor's thigh (a strange gesture in itself and she wasn't sure what had brought it about) she had immediately recognized the answering response of arousal in the woman's sharp inhalation of breath and the way the muscle under her hand had quivered and tensed. It had been a long time since she had touched someone sexually. And she had badly wanted to give into those urges. Instead, she'd been cruel to the woman.
She wanted to keep Connor from harm and that meant keeping her at a distance.
Sexual dalliances in the past had proven disastrous. Giving in to her sexual needs had allowed Kat's control to slip from her grasp and she'd hurt people. A violent shiver crept up her body at those horrible memories and she tucked the covers around her protectively. Thankfully, those had been one-night stands; nameless men and women she'd picked up in one seedy bar or another, who barely lived to tell their tales and probably wanted nothing more than to forget.
Kat wanted to forget, but though their names may not have been known or had been forgotten, their faces had not. They were pictures etched in her mind from moments when she was not in control of her body; periods of nocturnal visits from a shadowy apparition that tormented, taunted and often seduced her. Hers was a life lived in constant fear.
She had to admit that as terrified as she was, she was grateful to Kellingher. He was proof, solid proof that she wasn't crazy. It was hard to fight demons of one's own imaginings: but maybe now, with this proof, maybe she could find away to beat this.
Her lids eventually grew heavy and though she had fought off sleep as long as she could, she found herself giving in to its pull.
Kat closed her eyes and drifted down into a now familiar world. She had been afraid the first time she had been brought here and had ran in a futile attempt to flee the demonscape. She had been here so often now, that she moved about more comfortably than she did in her own reality. The faint acrid smell of smoke was no longer frightening and overwhelming. The red-orange and misty skyline no longer seemed ominous. She stepped over demons and humans writhing about in pleasure and pain. Hands reached out to caress her legs, hoping to entice her into joining the mindless debauchery.
She ignored them.
She moved towards the rocky cliffs. The heat coming from the explosive lava pits below could singe normal flesh, yet she remained untouched, feeling only the intensity of the heat and not the pain. There were times she would sit here for hours, peering down into the molten lava, sometimes tossing rocks into its destructive grasp. This time she pressed on. Serpents covered the ground, coiling and uncoiling, hissing angrily as she entered their lair, stepping on them as she made her way to next chamber. Some writhed about, wrapping around one another in a frenzied mating ritual. None touched her. She wasn't theirs to touch.
She reached the Demon's chamber. "I won't let you take me." She spoke defiantly. "Not without a fight." Red Eyes turned to look upon her with amusement. The demon wore solid form. Here there were no shadowy images and murky forms, but tangible flesh.
"Must I take what is already mine?"
She glared at Red Eyes angrily. "I am not yours!"
"Oh, I like this fiery spirit of yours." Red Eyes laughed. Dark claws raked gently across Kat's face. She shuddered. "But you have always been mine." She knocked the appendage from her face and shrank away from the demon's touch.
"No!" she hissed bitterly. "I will fight you!"
"Oh?" A cryptic smile spread across the beauteous features. "No," spoken silkily followed a brief pause and those red eyes narrowed with intent. "It's too late to fight now." The subtle duality of the demon's voice, both male and female falling from full dark lips, seemed to cross the small distance between them to vibrate seductively in Kat's ears. "Preparations are made and you will play your part. I will completely own your soul."
"No," she whispered, slowly losing her defiance. The demon circled around her and Katerina could feel it pressing against her back. Soft breasts grazed the top of her head sending, a shiver down her spine. She closed her eyes tightly as those razor sharp claws raked across the skin of her bare stomach.
"Katerina Mine." It lowered its head to whisper tenderly into her ear. "I've offered you everything. Freedom, wild and abandoned; freedom from the restrictions of fleshly limitations." Strong hands grasped her shoulders firmly and turned her about. "Perhaps it's not a matter of whether or not you give yourself freely." The voice softened, changing subtly, but never losing its seductive timbre. "But a matter of 'who' you give yourself to." Kat knew the voice now. She had felt the pull of its low melodic seductiveness for nearly a year and a half. "Perhaps," Red Eyes purred. "You prefer this body, this face." She fought a battle within herself, but unable to withstand the seduction any longer, she opened her eyes. Her breathing hitched as Red Eyes smiled down at her with familiar lips and soft hazel eyes that bore only the slightest tinge of red outlining the pupils. "Yesss, I think this form will do." Red Eyes gathered Kat's unresisting body close. And smiled as the woman's eyes darkened with passion.
"Connor," Kat groaned helplessly.