Page 31 of Kill Me Again: Psychics

“Where did you go next?”

I walked forward a few steps. “I got my jacket out of the boot. Then I went back for my coffee.” I winced. “In retrospect, I wish I’d left it on the roof. I might still be able to drink the stuff.”

“Keep talking me through it.”

I was delaying, and we both knew it. Sweat cooled on my brow, and I wiped it away with my sleeve. “I headed for the stairs.” I turned toward them, each movement an effort. Lake followed at a distance.

“I heard footsteps behind me.” I frowned. “That’s the first time I’ve remembered that. The footsteps sounded hurried. I went to turn, but they barreled into me before I could.” My body jerked as the memory hit. “I remember thinking how clumsy someone had to be not to avoid me with all this space. I still had hold of my coffee. I tried to keep walking, but it was as if someone had attached lead weights to my feet. I made it three steps, I think. Then I fell.”

I crumpled to the floor. Lake surged forward, then stopped himself. I kneeled there, knowing what came next and hating it.

One second. Two.

Then I let myself slide sideways until my head touched the concrete. Cold. Unforgiving. Just as it had been that night. It wasn’t quite right, though. I shifted until I was facing the right direction. “He ran that way,” I said.

“Not toward the stairs?”

“No.”

“Maybe back to his car. Which makes it the dark one.”

It was hard to focus. I could smell the coffee. Coffee and blood. I knew neither was real, but my brain didn’t care. I forced myself to concentrate on the figure I’d seen through half-slitted eyes. “All black. Jumper and jeans. No coat. Boots. He had the knife in his hand. Covered in blood. My blood. Why didn’t I remember that before?”

Lake came to stand in front of me. He wore boots. Boots and faded blue jeans that hugged his calves and thighs. If I had one wish, it would be for all my future nightmares to end with him standing there—solid, real, and dependable. Strange to think of a man I’d only known a couple of days that way, but true.

He held out his hand. After a moment, I took it and let him pull me up. He was stronger than I’d expected for a historian. The strain of the day had me stepping into his arms. Or at least that was the excuse I gave myself. There was a beat of frozen uncertainty before his arms enfolded me. He was warm and reassuring, smelling of cologne and something distinctly him, not coffee and blood.

I rested my head against his shoulder and breathed him in. He accepted it politely, the slight stiffness of his body giving away that he wasn’t entirely comfortable. It reminded me of kissing him, and of him kissing me back. I hadn’t been drunk enough to forget it.

“I think,” Lake said eventually, “that you’ve remembered all you’re going to remember.”

I made a muffled sound into his shoulder that could have meant anything. “One more minute.”

“One more minute,” he agreed. He let out a sigh, but it wasn’t a sigh of frustration, more of letting tension leak away. His hand settled at the back of my head. Gentle at first. Then firmer when I didn’t pull away. “I know today’s been hard. As much as I can ever understand something like that. But you don’t have to face it alone. I’m here.”

I turned my head slightly so that my words were clearer. “Why?”

“What?”

“I was just a guy you met at a bar. One who insisted on coming home with you, tried to seduce you, had a mental breakdown, and then made you sleep on the floor.”

“You didn’t know I was sleeping on the floor.”

“Not an answer,” I chided.

He was quiet for a moment. “Why can’t people just help people? Why does it have to be such a big deal?” There was something plaintive in his voice that suggested he’d used that line to defend himself before.

Because most people aren’t that nice. I didn’t get to say it before a car horn blared, and we jumped apart. The driver of a red Peugeot gave us the finger as he drove unnecessarily close.

“Nice,” I said. “Friendly.”

I took one last look at the patch of concrete that probably still held traces of my blood, then turned away. I hoped seeing it now might give me a break from seeing it in my dreams.