Once Burned

Chapter 2

Marty stared in silence as I jumped on the trampoline with more force than was needed. With his four-foot, one-inch height, he was barely as tall as the edge of the trampoline, but his sideburns, wrinkles, and stoutly muscled frame showed he was no child. I looked away from him and focused my attention inward, barely noticing the landscape rising and falling with every jump. When I was high enough, I clasped my knees to my chest in a classic tuck, then quickly twisted into a pike before my feet hit the flexible surface and bounced me upward again.

Not tight enough in the tuck! I could almost hear my old trainer shout. That’s a full point deduction, Leila! You’ll never make the team with scores that low.

I pushed those memories aside and concentrated on my next move—a barani ball-out. This maneuver was even sloppier than the last, my foot doing an embarrassing slip backward upon landing. Another deduction, I thought automatically, but powered through the last set of somersaults and turntables. No self-respecting judge would give me high marks for those, but they looked impressive so the carnival spectators loved them.

This time, instead of landing on the trampoline, I changed direction at the last second and both my feet slammed down on Marty’s shoulders. The velocity plus my weight should’ve brought him to his knees and broken several bones, but Marty stood ramrod-straight. He grabbed my ankles, steadying me with a grip that was firm enough to allow me to stretch to my full height of five-six, arms triumphantly extended over my head.

“And the crowd goes wild,” Marty said ironically as I bowed.

I jumped down once he let go of my ankles. “Not as many crowds these days. People have too many other things to do than go to traveling carnivals.”

He grunted. “If Stan had his way, you’d use your newfound celebrity status to help with that.”

I grimaced at the mention of our boss’s delight over what happened with Jackie two weeks ago. At least no one was gathered by our fence today. Just my luck that Jackie’s sister had been a reporter who blasted the news of my “premonition” across every media avenue available to her. Phil pled not guilty and there wasn’t enough evidence to prove he’d intended to murder his wife, but my knowledge of Jackie’s plan to leave him combined with my flawless description of what was in his trunk was enough to draw the curious these past couple weeks. If not for my unfortunate tendency to electrocute everyone I touched, I could’ve made a nice stash doing palm readings, but as it was, I couldn’t wait for my fifteen minutes of fame to be over.

“I need people to forget what I can do. You know why.”

Marty stared at me almost sadly. “Yeah, kid. I do.”

Then he patted my arm, not flinching at the current that shot into him with the contact. He was used to it, and besides, Marty wasn’t human so it didn’t affect him the same way.

“Come inside and I’ll make you a shake,” he said with a final fatherly pat.

I turned away so he wouldn’t see my grimace. Marty was so proud of his blended concoctions that I drank at least one a week, but they tasted vile. If I hadn’t noticed that they did seem to improve my health, I’d have secretly dumped most of them into potted plants instead of drinking them.

“Um, in a little bit. I need to work the kinks out of that last set of flips.”

His snort told me what a bad liar I was, but he didn’t argue. I heard the trailer door shut moments later.

Once he was gone, I returned my attention to practicing my part of our routine. Marty’s part involved escaping out of several exploding objects in time to catch me for certain jumps or trapeze swings, but since he wasn’t human, he didn’t need to practice as much as I did. Good thing, too, or it would cost us a fortune in props and incendiary devices, not to mention the damage it would do to the lawn. We rented the land this trailer sat on, so if we trashed it, we paid for it.

Being a member of a circus sideshow wasn’t what I’d dreamed of doing when I was a kid, but that was before I started frying the circuits of every electrical device I touched, not to mention shocking people by casual contact. With my condition, I was lucky to have a job at all. The only other occupation I’d be good for was government guinea pig, as I reminded my father whenever he lamented over my career choice.

I made my jumps smooth and measured, building a rhythm that allowed me to push away other concerns. Concentration was critical to success, my old coach used to remind us, and he was right. Soon I barely noticed the collage of fence-yard-roof that repeated with every jump until they blurred together in one indistinguishable mass of colors. Then I executed my series of somersaults, flips, and twists, landing with my feet planted apart and knees slightly bent to lessen the impact. The trampoline trembled, but I remained rigid, not taking that points-killing step backward. Then I raised my arms before sweeping into a low bow, the final touch of the routine.

“Bravo,” a voice said mockingly.

I straightened, everything in me tensing. When I’d begun my bow, I’d been alone, but in the scant seconds since then, four men stood at each corner of the trampoline.

They looked like normal tourists, with their T-shirts and jeans, but only Marty could move that fast, which meant these men weren’t human. Even if I didn’t know to be wary of alternate species, the cold smile I glimpsed on the auburn-haired member of the quartet told me they weren’t here to ask for directions. I tried to rein in my now-galloping heartbeat. If I was lucky, these creatures would think it came from my recent exertions, though the scent of my fear probably gave me away.

“This is private property,” I said.

“You must be the Fantastic Frankie,” the tall, auburn-haired one said, ignoring that. His voice caressed my stage name in a way that sounded sinister.

“Who wants to know?” I replied while wondering where the hell Marty was. He had to have heard these guys even if he didn’t sense that a group of nonhumans were here.

I’d been on the trampoline when I asked the question, but was on the ground in the next instant, the auburn-haired stranger’s grip bruising me. He grunted in pain as currents pulsed into him from his contact with my skin, but like Marty, those currents didn’t debilitate him. His grip only tightened.

“How the fuck did you do that?” he demanded, his gaze turning from blue to bright, unearthly green.

I didn’t answer. My mind was awash in grayish images as soon as my right hand came into contact with his body. Just like I couldn’t prevent those currents from flowing into him, I also couldn’t stop seeing the worst of his sins through that single touch.

Blood. So much blood . . .

Through the panicked memory of another person’s murder, I heard him curse me for screaming, and then a sharp pain preceded everything going black.

I faced my captors in what looked to be a hotel room, my hands folded in my lap as if I was placing a dinner order and they were waiters. If you ever meet another vampire, don’t panic. You’ll only smell like prey, Marty had warned me. I knew what my kidnappers were after seeing their eyes glow green. That was why I didn’t bother lying when they asked me how I doubled as an electric eel and had the ability to siphon information through touch. If I lied, they’d only use the power in their gaze to make me tell the truth—or do whatever else they wanted—and I didn’t want to give them any more control over me than they already had.

I also didn’t try to run even though they hadn’t tied me up. Most people didn’t know vampires existed, let alone what they could do, but with my abilities, I’d known about vampires before I met Marty. My unwanted talents meant I knew all sorts of things I wished I didn’t.

Like the fact that my captors had every intention of killing me; that topped the list of things I wished I didn’t know at the moment. I’d seen my death after being forced to touch the auburn-haired vampire again, and it was an image that made me want to clutch my neck while backing away screaming.

I didn’t. Guess I should be grateful that my unwanted abilities meant I’d experienced so many horrible deaths, I could look at my impending execution with a morbid sort of relief. Getting my throat ripped out would hurt—I’d relived that through other people enough times to know. Still, it wasn’t the worst way to die. Besides, nothing was set in stone. I’d seen a glimpse of my possible future, but I’d managed to prevent Jackie’s murder. Maybe I could find a way to prevent my own.

“So let me get this straight,” Auburn Hair said, drawing the words out. “You touched a downed power line when you were thirteen, nearly died, and then later, your body began giving off electric voltage and your right hand divined psychic impressions from whatever you touched?”

More had happened, but it wasn’t information I wanted to reveal and he wouldn’t care about those details anyway.

“You experienced the voltage part yourself,” I said with a shrug. “As for the other, yeah, if I touch something, I get impressions off it.” Whether I want to or not, I silently added.

He smiled then, his gaze roving over the thin, jagged scar that was the visible remains of my brush with death. “What did you see when you touched me?”

“Past or future?” I asked, grimacing at either memory.

He exchanged an interested look with his buddies. “Both.”

How I would love to lie, but I didn’t need psychometric abilities to know if they doubted me, I’d be dead in moments.

“You like eating children.” The words made bile rise in my throat that I swallowed before continuing. “And you’re intending to drink me to death if I don’t prove useful to you.”

His smile widened, showing the tips of his fangs as he didn’t deny either charge. If I hadn’t seen similar menacing, fanged grins through the eyes of people I’d been psychically linked to, I would have been pants-pissing terrified, but a jaded part of me simply acknowledged him for what he was: evil. And I was no stranger to evil, much as I wished otherwise.

“If she’s the real deal like we heard, it could give us the edge we’ve been looking for,” his brunet companion muttered.

“I think you’re right,” Auburn Hair drawled.

I didn’t want to die, but there were some things I wouldn’t do even if it cost me my life. “Ask me to help you kidnap children, and you may as well start in on my neck now.”

Auburn Hair laughed. “I can do that on my own,” he assured me, making my stomach lurch with revulsion. “What I want from you is more . . . complicated. If I bring you objects to touch, can you tell me about their owner? Such as what he’s doing, where he is, and most importantly, where he will be?”

I didn’t want to do anything to help this disgusting, murderous group, but my choices were grim. If I refused, I’d get mesmerized into doing it anyway, or get tortured into doing it, or die choking on my own blood because I was of no use to them. Maybe this was my chance to change the fate they intended for me.

Why do you want to? a dark inner voice whispered. Aren’t you sick of drowning in other people’s sins? Isn’t death your only way out?

I glanced at my wrist, the faint scars that had nothing to do with my electrocution marking my skin. Once, I’d listened to that despairing inner voice, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit part of me was still tempted by it. Then I thought of Marty, how I hadn’t told my dad I loved him the last time we spoke, how I hadn’t talked to my sister in months, and finally, how I didn’t want to give these bastards the satisfaction of killing me.

My head came up and I met the leader’s gaze. “My abilities are tied to my emotions. Abuse me mentally or physically, and you’ll have better luck calling a psychic hotline to find out what you want to know. That means no murdering anyone while I’m getting information for you, and no touching me at all.”

That last part I said because of the lustful look the scraggly brunet had been giving me. My skintight body suit and boxer shorts didn’t leave much to the imagination, but it was what I trained in. I hadn’t expected to be kidnapped today or I’d have worn something more conservative.

“Don’t think you can mesmerize me into forgetting whatever you do, either,” I added, waving my right hand. “Psychic impressions, remember? I’ll touch you or an object nearby and find out, and then your human crystal ball will be broken.”

All the above was bullshit. They could do anything they wanted and I’d still pull impressions from whatever my right hand touched, but I’d used my most convincing tone while praying that, for once, I’d prove to be a good liar.

Auburn Hair flashed his fangs at me in another scary smile. “We can manage that, if you deliver what you say you can.”

I smiled back with nothing close to humor. “Oh, I can deliver, all right.”

Then I glanced at the light socket behind him. And that’s not all I can do.