Deadly Prophecy: A Second Sight Series Spin-Off Read online

  Deadly Prophecy

  By Heather Topham Wood

  DEADLY PROPHECY

  Copyright: Heather Topham Wood

  Published: March 31, 2017

  The right of Heather Topham Wood to be identified as author of this Work has been asserted by her in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Dedication

  To Dominic, Lucas, and Benjamin,

  You own my heart and I love you with everything I am

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  About the Author

  Prologue

  I see it in his eyes. He knows it’s over. His gaze rests on the knife and the calculations are simple to make: he can’t win a knife fight unarmed. He could try to run, but the blade is already raised—the piercing end will penetrate his skin in milliseconds.

  I’ve seen this scene played out before—different characters, but the same outcome. And I always wonder the same thing: what goes through the mind in those final moments? Does the brain fight against death? Does a moment of acceptance fight its way through? Is there any peace to be found in spite of the violence?

  I’m not an optimist. I know too much—lived through my memories alongside countless others. Sometimes I feel a thousand years old. But I do wish for the latter. Because I understand there’s a shared hope among us. Death will come as a friend. We will die old and content in our beds—painless and asleep. And then there will be peace. The “more” will begin. Religion doesn’t matter as long as there is an afterlife. My opinion is that no one is going to complain much at that point. Whether they are ushered to heaven on the wings of the angel or sent back to Earth in another body to have another go at life, they will accept their fate.

  I hope for the more for those who die young. I wish, as they choke on their own blood, that they can’t feel every terrible emotion wash over them. They don’t die drowning in hatred and betrayal. They see a glimpse of what’s after this life and they know it’s going to be all right. They won’t die powerless and alone.

  My attention is drawn back to the moment of truth. The final end to a murder I had already known was coming. But it stings more than I expected. I hope he doesn’t feel angry and betrayed, but I sure as hell do. I wish he could somehow know I’m there. That I could break the fourth wall and he could see me. His last image isn’t the face of his killer, but a face of an unknown friend—an ally who will avenge him.

  The first strike lands on the center of his chest—a literal piercing of his heart. As blood spurts out of his chest and soaks the fabric of his shirt, his eyes stare at his wound in shock. Although he suspected it was all over for him, I realize he had clung to hope up until that very last second. Even as his killer raised the blade, he believed it was all a ruse. That it wouldn’t actually happen. He wouldn’t die before his life truly began.

  “Why?” he manages. And I want to tell him he’s wasting his breath. Don’t go out that way. Don’t die with a person’s darkest desires churning around in your brain. Die with your middle finger in the air and a “suck my balls” on your lips.

  There’s no acknowledgment of the victim’s final wishes. The knife is drawn back and plunged again near the same spot. Although he struggles to stop the blade, it happens again and again. There’s no hope as he sinks to his knees. There’s no reason to fight back. The blood loss is too great.

  But the killer no longer stoically stands by and watches him die. As the killer leans down, four simple words are whispered into his ear. Four words that answer every question that has haunted me for weeks. Four words that close the chapter on a tragedy that has come to affect me in ways I never expected.

  And then later, long enough for him to suffer in unimaginable ways, the knife reappears and rips across his throat.

  Chapter One

  Declan Brayden was not amused. Whoever thought it was perfectly acceptable to call him before noon on a Sunday was about to get a verbal ass-whooping. His phone was buried deep inside the pockets of the jeans he wore the night before. No such luck that he could lazily lie in bed and answer the phone. He considered ignoring the caller altogether, but whoever it was didn’t give up so easily. After Declan’s voicemail picked up, the caller started ringing him again.

  With a huff, he got out of bed and snatched the phone out of his pants. “Of course,” he muttered before answering, “Hello.”

  “Hey, Dec; it’s Kate.” Her voice was bright, full of uncharacteristic cheer. Kate Edwards, his best friend and psychic investigation partner, never greeted him with much pep. In fact, he couldn’t recall a time she showed any authentic outward enthusiasm. Consequently, he assumed her good mood was either from finding a McDonald’s that delivered or hearing a rumor that Netflix was reviving The O.C.

  His grumpiness wasn’t abated. “Ever hear of caller ID, Kate? It’s a nifty invention where your name appears on my phone screen, eliminating the need for you to tell me who you are.”

  “Well, good morning to you too.” He could hear the displeasure seep into her voice. He regretted his quip immediately. For the past two years, she had come to mean everything to him. Shamefully, genuine psychics were hard to come by. Finding one in his same age bracket who lived less than an hour away had been serendipitous. Kate drove him crazy more often than not, but his future was bound to her.

  Declan groaned, rubbing his hands vigorously over his cheeks. “Sorry; late night. I solved the Marie Connors case last night and was too wired to sleep. I’m pretty sure the family isn’t going to be writing me a big fat check for discovering she left her kids and husband to work as a prostitute for her new pimp boyfriend.”

  “Wow… I wasn’t expecting that.” Declan imagined Kate’s hazel eyes going wide with shock. Although psychic, she lived a pretty sheltered life. “Have you phoned the tip in yet?”

  “No, her husband seems like a real nice guy. I figured I’d give him another day of blissful ignorance before I send his entire existence to hell.” Declan fought against a yawn. Kate would start an argument with him if she heard the sound. She’d accuse him of being too cynical. She was probably right, but he had worked triple the cases she had. At the end of the day, acting like human garbage was more of the rule than the exception.

  Declan was met by awkward silence. Finally, Kate said, “Wow, that kind of steals the thunder out of the news I have.”

  “Why? What’s up? Something ha
ppen at the wedding last night? Did you do something stupid like call out an objection to Julie marrying Gage?” The previous night, Kate’s best friend Julie had an extravagant wedding. For weeks leading up to the event, Declan had to hear from Kate about every tiny detail of the big day. As he waited for her reply, he gave a sniff of the jeans in his hands. Satisfied he couldn’t detect any body odor, he pulled on the pants.

  “No,” she snapped. “If my best friend wants to marry beneath her, that’s her prerogative. Anyway, Gage and I have come to an understanding. We have a mutual dislike for each other but we’re forced to tolerate one another for Julie’s sake.” Before Declan could reply, Kate continued on, “Stop distracting me and let me spill out my news.” After a dramatic pause, Kate blurted out, “Jared proposed last night. We’re engaged.”

  With a thud, Declan sank back down on his bed. He clenched his jaw together to prevent a shocked expletive from escaping his lips. News of Jared and Kate getting engaged was the last thing he expected. Although Kate had been dating her police detective boyfriend for more than a year, he assumed their relationship was still rocky. Kate and Jared had so many cosmic differences Declan figured they would never work out. Jared was straitlaced with a dry sense of humor, close to ten years older than Kate. Meanwhile, Kate had a laissez-faire work ethic and the maturity of a preschooler.

  However, his opinions on their relationship were hugely prejudiced. His disdain over the news was fueled by jealousy, pure and simple. The thing was he had accepted months ago that Kate would never be his and he’d been fine with it. They were friends and psychic partners and it had been enough for him. Sure, once in a while he’d look at Kate and imagine what it would be like to have a relationship extending beyond one-night stands and hookups at a bar. But he understood he had to bury those feelings deep if he wanted Kate in his life. He never kidded himself. If Kate were ever forced to choose between Jared and Declan, Jared would always be her choice.

  “Are you pregnant?” Shit, he cursed to himself. Not only did he not intend for the words to slip out, he could hear the coldness in his tone.

  “What? No… why would you even ask that?” Kate sounded more surprised than angry. Her attitude further fanned the flames of his annoyance. Had she been wearing blinders the entire time? How could she not suspect he’d be less than thrilled over hearing she was getting married? The conversation was making him realize their connection was tenuous. His abilities permitted him an insight into Kate no one else had, not even Jared. Didn’t she have the same deep understanding of Declan?

  “I don’t know. Seems you’re rushing things. You just moved in with the guy. Why get married already? You’re only twenty-three.” Why wasn’t he shutting the hell up? The more he talked, the deeper and more treacherous the hole he was digging. He sounded like a jealous ex-boyfriend. The worst part of him acting like such a downer was he genuinely liked Jared and considered him a friend.

  “Dec….” she started. He wanted to hang up at the sound of the plea in her voice. He almost wished she’d get pissed at him. Bantering and fighting with one another was their natural state. The last thing he wanted was her pity. He didn’t want her to see how much the news of her getting married was tearing him apart and making him damn the universe for making him feel something more for the one girl he couldn’t ever have.

  “Hey, it’s your life. As long as it doesn’t affect our business, you can do whatever you want.”

  “Dec, you’re my best friend. I only called my mom and dad to tell them the news before you. Please be happy for me.” She didn’t need to finish the rest of the sentiment. Please forget about kissing me. Please forget you had a premonition of us together and happy. The future promised by his prophecy was going up in flames right before his eyes.

  The further he got into the conversation, the more he wished he turned his phone off before bed. His cell was always nearby in case any calls came through about the missing persons cases he worked on. Instead of an emergency call, he had to deal with Kate’s emotional blackmail before he even had his coffee. But despite how twisted their relationship had turned out, he couldn’t intentionally hurt her. She was the one person in his life he’d always put ahead of his own selfish needs.

  “I’m happy for you, Kate,” he said quietly and hoped he put enough contrived emotion in the statement to pacify her. His manhood was taking a serious beating with little chance of recovery. Instead of her leading man, he was transformed into her asexual sidekick. What was the upside for him to their relationship?

  He had to ask himself why he was even bothered by the news. Not only would there never be anything between him and Kate, she’d make a horrible wife. She was lazy, outspoken, and had loads of annoying habits like holding her breath when driving by cemeteries and eating Cheez Whiz directly out of the can.

  Maybe she had in charm what she lacked in class, he admitted to himself. She was also loyal, funny, and a natural beauty with long golden-brown hair and expressive eyes. He shook his head hard to extinguish all thoughts of her good qualities. His sanity required him to focus on the negative.

  Kate’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Dec, can you say something? All I hear is your heavy breathing over the line and it’s weirding me out.”

  “I’m wondering if you talked about a date. I’m a busy guy, need a lot of notice to make sure my schedule’s cleared up.”

  He felt pathetic, hearing the strain in his voice. She had to know how he felt. It sickened him to his core. He could have so many other women, beautiful and exotic women willing to try anything in his bed, and he was sounding like a pussy-whipped loser who couldn’t get over the one who got away.

  “Umm… not exactly. Jared bought us tickets for Hawaii in October. His version of ‘I’m glad you weren’t killed by a psycho, so let’s go away and celebrate’ gift. Shockingly enough, Hallmark has yet to carry a card for that occasion.” Her laughter was forced. She was still haunted by the attack months ago and he understood she hated revisiting those feelings of powerlessness. Often, she tried to make light of the assault, but the scars were more than physical. “We were talking about getting married there. I’d like you to come.”

  Declan guessed she was unnerved over being put on the spot, likely planning to spring the details on him later. But Kate’s psychic gift was identical to his and she understood he could slip inside her head at any given moment and find out the truth. The way their gift worked was that they tumbled into the memories of another person. This translated to zero privacy for the target. If he focused his psychic energy on Kate, he would land smack inside a memory. The memory could be from any point in her life. He was just as likely to see Kate on her first day of kindergarten as her first day of college.

  “Three months away? Wow, I know Jared’s pushing thirty, but never expected him to make you race down the aisle.” Since Jared carried a gun with him at all times, Declan could easily visualize a shotgun wedding scenario. Jared, tall, imposing, with dark hair and eyes, practically dragging the much shorter and slighter Kate up to the altar.

  Kate cleared her throat. “Okay,” she said, relenting, after a brief pause. “It does sound a little quick, especially since we were on again and off again for the past year. But now I’m safe and there’s not a Doomsday axe hanging over my head, I want to start living. And I see Jared as my forever and there’s no reason to wait.”

  Declan fought against his gag reflex. “Well, congrats to you and Jared. I’ll have to figure out our caseload and let you know about coming to Hawaii.” There was no way in hell he was going to her wedding—even if he had to invent abduction cases to get out of it. If he went, he would do something asinine like declare his feelings.

  “Great. Well, I’d better make the rest of my calls. We’re good, then?” Kate’s cheer had completely wilted away. Whoever else Kate had to call would likely guess she was calling to inform them of a death, not to share engagement news.

  “We’re outstanding.” He swallowed hard. “I’ll call you
later.”

  “Goodbye, Declan.” After she disconnected, Declan wondered if she intended to make her farewell sound so loaded.

  Chapter Two

  With Kate deciding to ruin his morning, Declan was thrown for the rest of the day. His house gave him an empty feeling as if a stranger lived there. Suddenly, he hated the modern, minimalistic way he decorated his two-bedroom ranch. There was nothing homey or comfortable about the space. Most of his furnishings were sleek: black leather couches, glass tables, chrome chairs. He had no specific attachment to the objects he bought for his house. Once he started getting reward purses for solving missing person cases and fattening his bank account, he had a simple method for shopping: choose the most expensive option. His theory was the inflated price tag must mean it was the best. And coming from a homeless-shelter level of poverty, he only wanted the best.

  Later, he tried redirecting his energy to searching online for any new missing persons cases. Work usually helped him maintain a singular focus. But at that moment, nothing helped erase the vision of Kate in white, making a vow that she’d never belong to Declan.

  He never anticipated being that prosaic. When did he become the type of guy to feel all down and out over a failed romance? His standing as runner-up in Kate’s love life had been status quo for more than a year. Just because Kate and Jared were making their relationship official, he didn’t automatically have to act the part of jilted lover. What had happened should’ve been easy to move on from: a few stolen kisses and caresses one night in a generic hotel room. The night had a dream-like quality, existing in an entirely different realm than reality. Kate woke up the next morning full of regrets and he pretended like her dismissal didn’t matter. Secretly, he thought she needed more time to come around. But the glaring truth was he had fractured himself into a hundred thousand pieces to make her happy and it had still not been good enough.