The Awakening

'Crematorium?'

'Apparently that's how she wanted things.'

'But now her body is gone.' Gaby's thoughts scrambled at the enormity of such a thing. 'How could something like that happen?'

'With cover-ups, I'm guessing. A poor old woman with no family and no friends… who would normally notice?' Luther glanced at her. 'Except you.'

Uh oh. Luther had that leery, take-apart-her-psyche look again. He didn't appear angry so much as… curious.

And curiosity about her was never a good thing.

'Lucky guess on my part, that's all. The minute I heard Dr. Marton talking about the patients, and heard what the nurses and Dr. Chiles thought of him, I figured something was up. Any fool would have put it together.'

'No, Gaby.' Luther reached for her hand. 'You have a gift, a special intuition and a deeper perception that few people possess.'

Luther had a way of making compliments sound like accusations, and vice versa, to the point that Gaby never quite knew how to take him. 'If you say so.'

'It scares the hell out of me because you've also got a stubborn streak and a save-the-world attitude.' He gave one shake of his head. 'It's going to get you into trouble one of these days.'

Busy mulling over the entangled complexities of a dead body missing from the cancer ward, Gaby barely listened. It would be damn hard to smuggle out a corpse. Surely, there had to be endless paperwork and…

What if Ms. Davies wasn't dead at all? What if she'd only gone into a coma? Had the doctor forged results, maybe even with specialized drugs? Would Ms. Davies become the next ghoulish demon, covered in those awful tumors?

Or had she died, and the doctor only hoped to use the cells from her cancer-eaten body?

Gaby's thoughts churned in a hundred different ways. Without realizing it, she withdrew her knife; the weight of it in her hand helped her think and steadied her resolve.

Perhaps the doctor knew that people were on to him, and he felt cornered. Gaby didn't have a single doubt that Bliss's request for her to go to the isolation hospital played into these new developments.

Now all she had to do was figure out why.

Did the doctor hope to set her up as the culprit?

Did he hope to use her to make Luther back off—as if she had that type of influence on him? Ha!

Or did he only hope to force Gaby off his trail so he could more easily deal with Luther… which would mean it was Luther who was ultimately in danger?

'Put that knife away. If I hit the brakes for any reason, you're liable to stab yourself.'

'Or you?' Gaby looked at his strong, proud profile, and made up her mind.

Fuck waiting until tomorrow, or until God sent her.

She'd go to the hospital tonight. She'd catch the foul doctor and circumvent his plans and somehow, some way, she'd keep Detective Luther Cross safe.

With that decision, a small, piercing pain penetrated her soul. Ah. It hurt horribly—and felt good.

God was with her on this after all.

Biting back any signs of discomfort, she whispered to Luther, 'Don't worry, I've yet to have an accident with my knife.' But she did reach back and slide it into the sheath—out of sight, but close to hand.

'Gaby?' Luther cupped a hand around the back of her neck. 'What's wrong?'

'Nothing.' Everything. The pain didn't expand, but it niggled on her unease, a hard reminder that her time was never truly her own. At any moment, in any situation, when she might least expect or most want it, she could be called upon to destroy.

That fact made any conventional relationship inconceivable. Caring about Luther meant protecting him from the evil of the earth. Nothing more.

'You look… upset.'

Gaby eased a hand over her midsection, where the burning reminder of her purpose throbbed. She shook her head. 'I'm fine.'

Luther snorted. 'You know, Gaby, it makes me very uneasy when you take your thoughts private.'

It made her uneasy that he seemed to know her so well and felt free to touch her with so much familiarity. 'I was thinking.'

'That's what worries me.'

'Worrying is for old women,' she snapped. She turned her head toward him. 'What are you going to do now?'

He gave her a quick glance. 'That's what you were stewing on for so long? Not what you'd do, but what I'll do?'

Gaby stared right at him, giving him no reason to surmise duplicity on her part. 'Why should I do anything? You're the cop, aren't you?'

His eyes narrowed, and he released her. 'Funny that you'd only remember it now.'

Knowing Luther's plans was crucial. If he had any clue about the isolation hospital in the woods, she'd be hard pressed to keep him away. But given what she planned to do, what she had to do, running into Luther would be catastrophic. If he witnessed her in action, if he saw how easily she took life, he'd lock her away.

And without her to help balance things, evil would have sovereignty.

She couldn't risk that.

'Make no mistake, Luther.' The steady clutch of discomfort roughened her voice. 'If I see corruption in progress, I will take care of it.'

'Here we go.'

Gaby spoke over his long groan. 'But I'm not going to play sleuth and do all your work for you. Earn your pay, damn it. Find that missing corpse.'

'I plan to.'

'Good. And once you do, you'll also figure out how Dr. Marton managed all this.'

Neither or them denied that Dr. Marton had to be involved. There'd be no point now.

'I'll talk to him.'

'Fine. But until then,' Gaby stressed, 'I don't think there's much I can do.' She raised a brow. 'Now is there?'

Chapter Seventeen

Luther didn't buy a single second of Gaby's act. She was good, but he'd already figured out that when Gaby seemed most sincere, she had ulterior motives. This time her motive was to dupe him into thinking she intended to stay uninvolved.

He wasn't that stupid.

Especially not after seeing how she held that knife—with intent to use it.

Familiar, tender, with love and barely restrained eagerness.

She had plans to use her knife, and soon. He had no doubt.

Gaby was a woman who had to act. By whatever strange force possessed her—and he had a feeling it possessed her right now—she had skill and amazing ability, and not using those attributes would be as contrary to her as not breathing would be to him.

She remained silent, maybe even… stoic, on the remainder of the drive. He didn't like it. She had a pinched look about her that she tried hard to disguise, but he knew her too well.

How he knew her so well, Luther couldn't say, but almost from the onset he'd been keenly attuned to her. Right now she was separate from him, drawn into herself by some odd suffering that he couldn't comprehend.

Even after he parked and got out, she didn't budge a single eyelash. At least, Luther noted with a smile, she'd conceded to his courteous tendencies.