Pain-Killer (A Miss Hyde Novella Book 2) Read online

  “Wow.” I breathed as I looked at each and every one, not passing any of them without giving them a close once over. Each one looked exactly like me, with one brown eye and one green, covered in blood in various stages of undress, ecstasy or feasting. Even murder. Then I saw one that made me stop short. I was in a purple dress, strap torn, one falling off of my shoulder with hair in disarray and blood dripping from my parted lips and off my chin. It was so realistic but had a surreal quality to it that made it even more thrilling to look at. I turned to see Cyra, and she looked slightly uncomfortable, her eyes moving from each painting and back to me like she was trying to make sure of the resemblance between me and the images she painted. I straightened and watched her. Shadow was weaving around my ankles again, purring and trilling her acceptance of me into their home.

  “Is this a series of paintings? Do they tell a story?” I asked, looking over my shoulder and back at the painting that I now knew for a fact depicted what had transpired last night. I felt a tingle in the exact spots on my lips and chin where his blood had touched me. Hyde was trying to remind me of what I was. I resisted the urge to wipe my chin. Nothing was there, and I knew it, but my mind kept telling me there was.

  “They do. They go in a specific order. The one I sent to the gallery goes right here.” She pointed to an empty easel next to the one depicting last night’s events. I nearly choked on the air I was breathing and couldn’t hold her gaze as she glanced at me. So soon I’d be naked feasting on an unsuspecting man’s heart? Of course, I have no idea how far into the future all of these events were supposed to happen. You could never tell with visions of the future, which now I was one hundred percent sure that was what was going on.

  “Anything, in particular, that inspired them?” I turned to the painting and was examining it again, trying really hard not to look back at Cyra. She seemed to be getting a little antsy with me being there. I also had to admit that the resemblance was uncanny in each and every painting. I wasn’t sure what to think. I didn’t believe in stuff like this, right? I didn’t believe in fortune tellers and magic crystal balls. Now I may have to change my tune. The detail in the particular painting I was examining was explicit. The blood splatter was like she had literally killed someone in front of the canvas.

  “My dreams. Each dream I have whether small or large ends up on a canvas. I can’t help it. I’m in front of a canvas almost every morning before the sun comes up.” She came to stand next to me with her arms crossed over her chest, and her feet parted like she was ready to pounce.

  I stood up straight and planted my feet just in case. I knew what someone who was about to attack looked like and I would be prepared for it. Once I was fully erect a fist collided with my mid-section, sending me into a coughing fit that was followed by some gagging. The pain that wracked my body was nothing like I had expected, but good thing for me I had taken self-defense classes when I was young and stupid. Obviously the smartest thing I had ever done. Feet shoulder width apart. That was one of the most important things to remember. If I weren't a lot stronger than most thought I was, I would’ve been down on my knees, but I had the benefit of surprise. I sucked in a deep breath and lashed out with a punch of my own that landed exactly where I wanted it to. My fist caught the underside of her chin, causing her to stumble back a few steps but she regained her composure quickly. Not fast enough, though. I was on her in seconds, arm across her throat and pushing her into the wall. I felt Hyde stir, and I knew I wasn’t the only one who felt the threat, and she was wide awake. And believe me, I had no idea why Cyra was in such a hurry to give me a beating, but I bet I would find out soon enough. I had been fighting in heels long enough to know I could do it and could get the information I wanted.

  If only she couldn’t keep up. Before I could ask any questions she had her foot behind my ankle and then I was in a controlled roll to the floor, landing hard against one of the occupied easels in the room. The painting crashed to the ground, knocking over something that was breakable. It shattered on the floor, sending small pieces of broken silvered glass over us. We had somehow knocked over the mirror that had been on the opposite wall. Strangely enough, I hadn’t noticed it until that moment. There was another shift that I felt deep inside of my mind this time as well as in my bones and my muscles. It was a noticeable shift. One that I had never felt before, and it left me shaken enough that Cyra was able to get in another blow and this one connected with my left cheekbone, sending searing pain throughout my head and stars into my vision. While I tried to gather, my senses Cyra’s lips were next to my ear and her hand gripping my throat.

  “Who are you?” This was a question I had already answered, and truthfully whether she wanted to believe it or not.

  “Blythe McAlister of Agora Gallery; art consultant and expert. That was all the truth,” I gasped past her squeezing hand. She used her other hand to grab my hair, taking a nice fistful of the red locks and slammed by head into the heavily carpeted floor which still hurt regardless. Before I could get a word out, she was speaking again.

  “And why are you here?” The words came out of her like a hiss, and her eyes were just as menacing. She meant business, and so did I, but I would not be bullied.

  “Exactly the reason my co-worker told you on the phone, but I do have an ulterior motive, and it will be explained as long as you let me go.” She gave me a long once over that felt like it took an eternity. Her eyes widened, and I knew she had seen the flash of emerald green that told people what I was if they ever got close enough to tell the difference. Before now the only people that had were long dead and buried only Hyde knew where. I was alright with never knowing.

  She jumped off of me like she had been bitten by a snake, almost topping over the cat that had barely moved since Cyra had decided to attack me unprovoked. I stood cautiously and smoothed down my now wrinkled dress that had ridden up my legs in the struggle, nearly exposing the lacy garment underneath. One of my shoes had slipped off and was lying red sole facing up like it was staring at me, abandoned. I picked it up and slid my foot back into it with stupendous balance and placed my foot back on the floor, cocking my hip and staring into the face of the artist who just happened to be a worthy adversary. Who would’ve thought?

  “Alright,” she paused, taking in a deep breath and letting it out with a soft whistle. “Why else are you here?” Her body mirrored my own; hip cocked, hands at her sides, and eyes on me impatiently awaiting my response. I pushed my hair out of my face and tried to catch my breath as I felt Hyde moving again. I took control and pushed her back down into wherever it was she went while she wasn’t actively trying to ruin my life.

  “I had two reasons for my visit today. Only one of which I was going to divulge before I was attacked for a reason, I can only guess at, which is why I think you should tell me your reason for attacking me. But I am willing to let that go.” Her eyes met mine with disdain. “I have a problem and it seems like you know more about it than I do.” I gestured towards he paintings scattered throughout the room, expertly displayed on their easels that I had no doubt they were each painted on.

  Those brown orbs moved from me and to the paintings, going back and forth between the two as if she had a decision to make. In truth she did. She could trust me and help me, or she could throw me out of her condo after kicking my ass which she seemed more likely to do at this particular juncture. Her shoulders sagged as if all of the air had left her body and she knew what she had to do.

  “It seems that I do, but what do you want to do about it?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t even know what this is. Once I know what all of this means I’ll have a better answer for you. Right now all I want is to see what you know and how you know it. Then we can move on from there.”

  “How do I know if I can trust you or that thing moving around inside of you? I’ve seen what she does, and I’m not too thrilled about teaming up with that.” She pointed at me, but more like through me to Hyde curled up in some deep dark hole.

/>   “All I can say is don’t give me a reason to let her out and you’ll be okay.”

  She guffawed, bending over as she laughed and practically slapping her knee as she did so. “You? Control that monster? Yeah, like I haven’t seen everything, Blythe.” She stood straight took a step towards me, a finger pointed directly at the center of my chest. “She has more control over you than you do of her. That is the truth. And that needs to change before more end up dead. Not saying Kyle didn’t deserve it, though.” Cyra moved gracefully to a stool sitting by a painting by the far wall and sat down. The shocked look on my face made her laugh again, doubling over gasping for the second time in the last five minutes.

  “I don’t know why this is so funny to you. I don’t even know how you know any of this. I can guess that you have visions of some sort, but I have never heard of anyone knowing as much as they do from flashes of events. Not like this, anyway.”

  “And you know about visions how?” Cyra crossed her arms and gave me a blank stare.

  “What? Just because of how I look means I’m not smart? I do read. Unfortunately, the closest book I can find that even remotely fits my situation is Stevenson’s book, which isn’t exactly a help.” I sighed and let myself collapse into a heap on the floor with my head in my hands. It was too early in the day to become a self-pitying mess, but here I was.

  “My dreams have always translated to real life events, but the most disturbing have always been the ones with you in them. I’d be lying if I said they just started, but they have been going on for years.”

  “When did they start?” I was looking to her now.

  “When I was little. I would tell my mother about the girl with the red hair in my dreams and that she was a good girl, but something inside of her made her do bad things.” She exhaled and let her head droop, causing her pink bangs to fall over her eyes. She didn’t care to move them out of the way. She just let them stay there like they would hide her from everything she had seen me do through another’s will.

  Yes, that was it. Hyde enforced me to do her will, and I didn’t know a way to fight it or if there even was one. And what Cyra had said was true. Hyde had been present in my life since I was young but still old enough to know that what she made me do was wrong. Old enough to want to change it but without the knowledge to do so. My parents didn’t see it until I had hit puberty and Hyde began to prefer the company of adolescent teenaged boys instead of a cat or dog. Because of her, I had lost my virginity early enough for me to feel guilty about it and that kid had ended up dead. The only time I had been able to keep her out of it was when I wanted to experience it on my own. I experimented and found marijuana to be effective, but only that once. It never worked again, and alcohol never did. If anything, it guaranteed an appearance, and that was what I was trying to avoid. The only reason I drank now was to take the edge off of the anxiety of having her tagging along.

  “What do I do?” I asked, honestly and openly. I had no clue what getting rid of her would take, and I was willing to try anything. Cyra sat up straight, picked up one of her brushes and began to finger the bristles as she spoke.

  “Find a way to get used to her because no matter how much you want her gone, she will always be right there,” She said sternly as she pointed at my eyes with two fingers, “Whether you want her to be or not.”

  Chapter Five

  The water was running in both the bathroom sink and the shower, causing steam to rise and fog the mirror completely until I could no longer see my reflection. I was standing in the doorway but hadn’t remembered turning the water on to begin with. Everything from my time at Cyra’s condo to the time in my own apartment was completely blank. How the Hell did I not remember anything? I had to have been at the gallery at some point in the day, right? I sighed, taking a step forward towards the bathroom sink and hand outstretched to turn off the water. As soon as my skin met the copper handle of the faucet I saw something move out of my periphery across the steamy mirror. I could barely see myself in it, but somehow the figure that moved behind me had been so stark in my vision that my jaw hit the floor.

  I used my hand and swiped a clear path across the mirror, but didn’t see anything anymore. I turned the water off and made my way to the shower to turn that off as well, kicking my heels off on the way and leaving them on the floor. I didn’t even care at that point. I was tired, and my body ached, and I had no idea what I had done all day long. It felt like I had been at the gym, but I knew better. I had managed to stay tone and without the assistance of workout equipment. No matter how much crappy food I ate, I never gained weight. Was that a high metabolism or was it, Hyde? It didn’t even matter.

  The remaining water flowed down the drain, making a gurgling sound but it wasn’t too long before the water was gone and I realized where the sound was actually coming from. I spun on my heel, and the figure bathed in the darkness of the half lit doorway was daunting, but I knew exactly who it was. Kyle took a step out of the darkness, his chest gaping with flesh, muscle, and gore. What remained of his obliterated rib cage was peeking out from beneath the blood. I felt my heart begin to race as I stared into his dead eyes. He was completely nude and covered in blood and pieces of flesh as he took another step towards me, raising his arms like he was attempting to wrap his arms around me. My body was frozen in terror as I watched him coming closer and closer, not daring to take my eyes off of him. Blood poured out of the exposed interior of his chest, running down his hips and legs and down onto the beautifully tiled floor. It was safe to say it was no longer lovely. If anything, I’d want to rip it out and replace it soon enough.

  “Kyle, stay back.” I cried, instantly wishing I hadn’t said a word. My voice betrayed me with how shaky it was and I couldn’t keep my hands from trembling as I held them out towards him. I tried not to touch him, but it was getting even harder to avoid the closer he got. I was now backed against the cold and slick tile wall, moving my fingers along its surface to remind myself what was reality and what wasn’t. “You’re not real. You’re dead.” I kept repeating the mantra to myself as I squeezed my eyes shut, a silent and solitary tear running down my cheek that was quickly followed by the graze of tacky fingertips.

  A scream ripped from my throat, and my chest constricted, making it harder to breath. My body was rigid as Kyle’s fingers moved down my cheek, my neck, over my collarbone, and down the strap of my dress. Then back up to my throat, closing around it with such force it caused me to gasp and cry out. Another pair of hands roamed over my belly with a gentle pressure I wasn’t expecting. My eyes shot open, and Dax was in front of me, his face mere inches from my own and Kyle was standing next to him. Plasma oozed from the deep slashes across his joints and across his throat from where Hyde had butchered him with the electric knife in her special room. Where death had found him and no one heard him scream but us.

  “Come join us, Blythe. It’s the only way you’ll be rid of her.” Dax whispered as he nuzzled into my neck, breathing in my scent as if he fed off of my terror. I hadn’t taken my gaze away from him until I felt something cool and metallic in my hand. It wasn’t until I closed my hand around it that I realized what it was. There was a scalpel in my hand. Kyle had put it there, of this, I had no doubt.

  Dax was pressed up against me and Kyle’s hand had moved away from my throat and down towards the hem of my dress that was now sufficiently ruined by all of the blood soaking into it becoming a wet sticky mess. I knew what they were asking of me, but could I actually take that step just to be rid of Hyde? I was seriously considering it. How many more innocent men like Dax could I murder in cold blood? At the same time, how many horrible men could I put to death, enacting justice for each and every woman they had tortured and raped? But I couldn’t be the hand of justice acting on the opposite side of the spectrum at the same time.

  My body began to move against Dax of its own volition, stirring something inside of me that I knew only he could bring out. Kyle brought out the monster and Dax brought out the angel
. Well, as close as it could get anyways. I squeezed the stainless steel blade in my hand and clenched my teeth tightly, breathing in slowly as I felt the sharp sting of the blade cutting into my own flesh. I let out a sensual growl which sprung from my lips once I felt a drop of my own blood run down my palm and into the creases of my curled fingers. It was slick and warm and alive. I felt a moan rise in my throat, but it was quickly caught there by the shaky breath that needed to leave my lungs first. Kyle’s hand slid the hem of my dress up my thigh towards my hip. My breaths came in ragged pulls, and I was the fear was mixing with a heady combination of sex and adrenaline. I could hear my heart pumping away, beating against the still veins of Dax and Kyle. While Kyle was going to do some rather unsavory things to me in life, it seemed that in death he was a whole other kind of man.

  Kyle’s breathes came hot and short next to my ear as his hand slid past the hem of the dress, his fingers sliding along the edge of the lacy thong underwear I had put on that morning and groaning. “Do it, Blythe,” He whispered, taking my earlobe between his teeth and nibbling gently. His tongue trailed where his teeth had just been, and he said the words again, this time, more demanding than begging. His other hand took the one of mine that was clutching the scalpel and clasping it so that the blade bit into my skin, even more, causing more blood to flow.

  “Do it.” Dax breathed into my hair, his tone even more severe than Kyle’s had been. His teeth grazed my neck, causing a shiver to ricochet up and down my spine and another moan to force its way out into the atmosphere around us. Dax’s hand cupped the back of my head as it tipped back. His free hand cupped my breast, kneading with desire as his erection grew against my hip. He pressed into me even harder, grinding as Kyle’s mouth trailed kissed along the other side of my throat and down towards my collar bone. Kyle then did something I wasn’t expecting, and it sent butterflies thrumming through my chest and into my stomach as I watched him. He lifted my bloodied hand that was still closed around the small surgical blade and licked at a small rivulet of my own life force that had weaved its way out from between my fingers, his tongue flicking out like a cat’s.