Kiss Me Deadly: Tales of a Paranormal Romance

concerned.

“I just couldn’t sleep.”

“You ... couldn’t sleep?” Her frown deepened, and she glanced at the tech still passed out on the couch. “Come in and let’s see if I have anything that will help.” She unlocked the cafeteria and shoved her keys into her purse, then held the door open for me.

Great. How was I supposed to meet Nash if I couldn’t get rid of her? Fortunately, the drive would take him at least forty-five minutes, even with virtually no traffic. So I brushed past Greer into the empty cafeteria, dark, but for a single light shining in from the kitchen.

“You’re shaking! Let’s get you something warm...”

I followed her into the kitchen and sat at the prep table when she waved one hand at the folding chair next to it. “Why are you here so late?” I asked, still shivering as she poured milk into a microwavable mug.

“Just finishing up some work.” Greer set the mug in the microwave and pushed several buttons. “So ... you can’t sleep, you’re pale, and you’re obviously cold. Any other symptoms I should know about?”

I shook my head, and she watched me while the mug rotated. When the microwave buzzed, she took the milk out and stirred powered cocoa into it, dropped the spoon in the sink and handed me the mug. Her fingers touched mine, and the sudden flash of fear, pain, and anger nearly blew me out of my chair. But the realization that came with it was a million times worse.

None of what I’d felt was hers. It was theirs. All of it.

My eyes went wide, but hers only narrowed further. She nodded, like something mysterious finally made sense. But the only thing I understood was that she was the problem. Whatever was wrong with the girls at Holser was wrong because of Kate Greer.

How could I not have seen it? She wasn’t working the night I’d fed from BethAnne, and she was the only one not scared of me the next day. What the hell was she doing to them?

She leaned against the counter, lightly gripping it with both hands. “Okay, you’re obviously an empath of some sort, and based on the situation and your symptoms, I’m guessing ... a mara?”

I blinked, as stunned by her casual utterance of my lifelong secret as by the fact that she knew what I was. And finally, I nodded, for lack of any better response. “So what the hell are you? ” As hungry as I was in that moment, I could never have drained twenty girls at once, much less over several nights in a row. How had she?

Greer raised a brow at my language, then waved away the question, as if the answer didn’t matter. “I’m a fellow empath, of course, though of a slightly different variety.” She smiled and opened the industrial-size fridge for a can of soda. “Wow. A walking Nightmare. Do you have any idea how rare you are, especially these days? Few women have seven kids anymore, much less seven daughters in a row. I’m guessing your parents gave you away?”

“Like a naughty puppy,” I said, numb, yet still shivering while I sipped my hot chocolate.

“I’ve only met one other mara, and she was old as dirt. Still scary as hell, though. You could have learned a thing or two from her.”

“Wait...” I interrupted, as something she’d said finally sank in. “Seventh daughter?”

“Yeah. You know, ‘And the seventh daughter of the seventh daughter shall be born a night-hag, and she shall feed from the fear of the innocent as they slumber...’” Greer stopped and raised both brows at me. “You haven’t heard that, have you?”

“No.” And I’m not a hag. I took another sip, then stared up at her, my mind spinning. “So ... I have six sisters?”

“Oh, no, not anymore.” She frowned, like that should have been obvious. “Not if they gave you up. Maras are always born to human families, and it’s really hard for humans to believe they’re not the top of the food chain. And that their precious baby girl is literally a thing of nightmares. So the seventh daughter is almost always abandoned.”

Abandoned? I’d known it, of course, but hearing it outright ... it kinda stung.

“A couple hundred years ago, there would have been others of your kind to take you in and teach you. But today ... well, with the popularity of contraception and termination, there are fewer and fewer of you born. Especially in the U.S. So you have to fend for yourself.”

She drank from her can and gestured with it. “You know, I knew there was something different about you. The others are like drops of rain in a puddle, but you’re a river of fear and resentment. Though based on the looks of you, I’d say that river has nearly run dry. Sorry ’bout that. Collateral damage.”

“You’re ... stealing their fear?” And clearly stealing what little I’d collected from them, as well as what I produced on my own.

Greer’s eyes flashed in irritation, and her gaze narrowed again. “I’m not stealing anything. I’m flushing out the negative energy and replacing it with acceptance and peace—exactly what girls like you need.” She hesitated, then gave a little chuckle. “Well, not girls like you, obviously. But the others...”

What they need? Who was she to decide what they—what we —needed?

“But that ‘negative energy’ is half of who they are! They’ve been through a lot. They’ve earned a little anger and aggression.” I know I had! “You’re turning them into ... zombies!”

Greer’s frown deepened, and another chill ran up my spine. “I’m turning them into respectable young women who finally have a chance to make something of their lives. How many of them would even be thinking about college and careers if they were still on the self-destructive paths that put them here in the first place?” she demanded, and I felt my temperature drop at least another degree. Goose bumps popped up on my arms, and I swayed on my chair.

She was draining me where I sat!

“This is a mutually beneficial arrangement, and I’ve made Holser the top halfway house for girls in the state. They should all be grateful to be here!”

Wow. Was she serious? Regardless, she was clearly pissed, and the angrier she grew, the weaker I felt. At this rate, I wouldn’t be able to stand up by the time Nash got there.

“What do you do with all the ‘negative energy’?” I asked through chattering teeth, trying to calm her down and buy myself some time.

“Well, I need some of it, obviously. A girl’s gotta eat, right?” She grinned and patted her flat stomach, as if we’d just shared a great joke. Nausea churned in my guts at the realization that I’d said the same thing to Nash. “The rest of it I sell, or trade for the healthier energies I’m replacing it with. Fortunately, the dark stuff sells for much more than the shiny-happy feelings, so I still pull in a tidy profit, even after expenses.”

“You can sell fear?” I asked around still-chattering teeth, trying to hide my growing revulsion.

“Of course.” She shrugged. “And despair and pain and anger and everything at the opposite end of the spectrum, too. Everything is food for something, Sabine. You’d know that better than most.”

“I guess.” But with her words, a new world had just opened up in front of me, and its dark, gaping maw threatened to swallow me whole. I didn’t know how to exist in a world where I wasn’t the scariest thing around. I wasn’t sure I wanted to. But the new fear that realization should have triggered in me was gone almost before I’d felt it, leaving me light-headed and hollow.

Greer was taking it—all of it—before it could even ripen. And along with my emotions, she was stealing my energy, my very life force, much faster than she took from the others. Whether she meant to or not, she was killing me.

Keep her talking, Sabine...

“So ... you’re like me?”

“I’m an empath, yes.” She looked irritated at having to repeat herself. “But not like you. I am an emovere. By replacing what I take with much healthier emotions, I’m making the world a better place, one rehabilitated delinquent at a time.

“You, on the other hand...” She smiled at me in nauseating mock sympathy. “You can’t help what you are, but the truth is that you provide no benefit to anyone but yourself. You’re a dirty little parasite, sucking people dry in their sleep. Like a giant bedbug.” Greer set her soda can down and leaned against the counter at her back. “You’re lucky, you know, Sabine. Most people wouldn’t hesitate to squash a bedbug that had burrowed into their home. But