Connected (Twists of Fate #1) Page 2

  “Would you can it? I gotta concentrate on what I’m gonna say.” She cut through a row of pews to make it to the confessional.

  A quick laugh escaped him. Here we go! Did you find a priest?

  He sounded far too excited about this.

  “She sent me to the confessional.”

  Confessional? Shouldn’t you be setting up a meeting or something?

  “I don’t know,” she hissed, pul ing the thick red curtain aside to step into the smal booth.

  Oh, this ought to be good.

  She imagined him kicked back in her head with a bag of popcorn, waiting for the show to begin. As the panel between her and the priest slid open, she panicked. What was the protocol?

  Was she even al owed to be in there?

  After a few agonizing seconds, she realized the priest had spoken and was now waiting on her. Total y clueless, she dug deep into the only education she had on this situation: the movies.

  “Forgive me, Father, for I have…”

  Sinned? No, that wasn’t right.

  Remember, he’s a priest, Addison. The man can probably smell a lie a mile away.

  Her heart went into double-time as she fumbled for her words. “Ahh…I haven’t…um…

  sinned. Wel , not—”

  You can’t tell me you’ve never fucking sinned before, sweetheart. And you sure as hell can’t tell him that! God will strike you down where you sit. Lying in a church? In a confessional, on top of it? That’s like sitting in the hot seat in front of the good lord Himself, and then claiming to be totally innocent! I’ve never heard of such a thing! And you have the gall to say I’m blasphemous when you’re attempting to deceive a man of the cloth?

  Sweat broke out across her palms as he ranted. He was giving her a hard time, obviously, but damn!

  “Jesus,” she muttered, and then snapped to when she heard the shift of fabric on the other side of the screened window. “Not you…I mean, not Him. I… Oh, my God. Gosh!” she quickly corrected with a cringe. “Excuse me!” Addison whipped the curtain aside and rushed down the aisle, stuck with the riotous laughter of The Voice in her head.

  That was it! She had to be crazy! The only explanation for this insanity was exactly that: she was insane.

  Time for that CAT scan.

  She groaned, shoving open a heavy ornately-carved mahogany door as she mumbled under her breath, “That could have gone better.”

  Are you kidding me? Now that was a good time! Okay, so you have the priest thinking you’re possessed. What’s next?

  “Shut up.” She glanced around to make sure she was alone as she jogged down St. Peter’s steps, wel aware she was talking to herself again. When she got to her car, she draped her arms on the steering wheel and buried her face.

  “That was so humiliating.” He laughed so hard she almost felt the need to hold her own bel y. How did you think that was going to go?

  “Much better than that!”

  Face it, sweetheart. You’re stuck with me. You might as well help me out. It’s the only way to get rid of me.

  “In theory.” She scrubbed her hands down her face and stared blankly out the windshield. “I stil might be crazy.” You’re not crazy. Well, not in the way you’re thinking you are. Come on. You just left the hospital. Let’s get you home and situated, and then I’ll prove to you that you’re not insane.

  “And just how are you going to do that?” she asked, not sure she real y wanted to know.

  You have a computer, don’t you?

  “Ahh…yeah. Who doesn’t?”

  Then we’re gonna do a little search.

  “On what?”

  My death.

  *****

  What is wrong with you?

  “What did I do now?” Addison asked, easing into her computer chair.

  No, I mean physical y wrong with you. I can sense pain in your abdomen.

  “Um, hel o. Just had surgery here. Or did you miss our little rendezvous in the hospital.” She was surprised to not get an immediate, biting remark.

  Are you gonna be okay?

  Uncomfortable with his concern, al the worry she had successful y tamped down surged to the surface. “Yeah.

  Just had a tumor removed.”

  I didn’t mean to weird you out, Addison.

  “You didn’t—”

  Don’t even go there. I know you started a mental girly freakout when I asked.

  She tensed at his tone and punched a finger at the power button on her computer, grateful to have the anger to overpower her uneasiness. “Look. I don’t know who you think you are, but—” Rhys Alexander.

  “What?” she snapped. Was the man going to let her finish a damn sentence?

  That’s my name. Rhys Alexander.

  Oh. That’s right. She didn’t even know his name. And was a little embarrassed she hadn’t thought to ask. To her, he was just The Voice.

  Yeah, talk about being rude.

  She sighed as she typed in her password. “Is it possible for you to be serious for more than two seconds? I mean, real y. This is going to be one long-ass depressing life if I have to have Mr.

  Condescending Assface in my head for the rest of my years.” She meant the comment as rhetorical, but it occurred to her that that might actual y be the case. “Oh, crap.” Her chest seized as her breaths came in little pants.

  Here we go again, he mumbled. Breathe, woman. Just keep breathing. You’ll get rid of me soon enough.

  But she could sense his doubt. “I heard that,” she said between gasps.

  He chuckled uneasily. Bright side? You’re getting better at reading me. That’ll make it harder on me, right?

  Yeah. Yeah. Make him suffer. Make him pay for being an Afterlife Leech.

  Thata girl. Plan my suffering. Plot my demise. Oh, wait.

  Already dead over here.

  “I’m sor—”

  Shut it. Just trying to get you to breathe again. You see how nicely my tactics work. Maybe this won’t be so hard on me after all. You’re a blast to manipulate.

  “Maybe I’l be lucky enough to get hit by a bus,” she muttered, only half-kidding as she pul ed up a search engine. But her tasteless humor about her death had her thoughts shifting back to the nearly-suppressed concern nagging at the back of her mind. The needling question whittled its way to the forefront of her consciousness.

  What if her tumor was malignant?

  Is that a possibility, or are you just screwing with me?

  She lifted a shoulder, let it drop. “It’s unlikely.” And it was.

  Focusing on the positive, she shoved the thought deep down again.

  The silence was awkward, and deafening with its vastness.

  Who knew she could get so used to The Voice in such a short period of time?

  See? , he said in an easier tone. I’d knew you’d come to like me eventually. Everyone does.

  She ignored his baiting to address the task at hand. “What do you want me to search?” You got the computer up?

  “What do you think?”

  Well, I wouldn’t know, would I? Not unless you—

  Addison quickly focused on the screen, assuming it would offer him a visual of what she saw.

  It worked.

  Okay. Good. Go ahead and search by my name.

  “How do you spel it?”

  A—L—E—X—A—

  Her frame slumped. “Not your last name, Einstein. Your first name. I think I can manage

  ‘Alexander’.”

  He chuckled. Fiesty one, aren’t you? It’s Rhys (for the second time). That’s R—H—Y—S.

  She punched in his name, hit search, and was immediately rewarded with wel over a hundred hits. Her jaw dropped.

  “Who the hel are you, Rhys?” Got a lot of hits, did you? The pride in his voice was clear. I’m a bit famous.

  “Don’t bother with the feigned humility. It doesn’t suit you,” Addison stated dryly. “So, you are…”

  A rock star.

  She thre
w her hands up and let them fal . “Aaaand of course you are. This just keeps getting better and better.

  Let me guess, you’re the singer.”

  Nope. Rhythm guitarist. My brother and I started the band.

  “So he’s the singer then?”

  Wrong again. That would be Connor. My brother, Xavier, is the lead guitarist. We formed the band, brought it together. And compose most of the music. His voice turned introspective as he explained.

  She could feel his worry and grief. “I’m sorry, Rhys.” She heard a throat clear, and then, For what?

  “Now you’re the one forgetting about our little connection here. I’m sorry you’re…” Dead?

  She cringed. “Yeah. And I’m sorry you had to leave a brother behind.” Now that’s the kicker, isn’t it? Leaving my brother. Shit. This has got to be fucking killing him.

  Addison knotted her fingers in her lap, not sure of what to say or how to comfort him. Al she could do was sense his frustration and pain, and try not to intrude on the emotions.

  Enough of that. Pull up the first hit. What do we got?

  It was as if he just tucked al those feelings into a hole and buried them under a mountain.

  She was a little jealous he could disconnect like that.

  Wouldn’t that be a handy little skil to have?

  She pul ed up the first link and scanned the news article that came up. It was more than a little disconcerting to read about the death of someone she knew (wel , sort of)…and was talking to? Scratch that—it was total y bizarre.

  Chop, chop, Addi. Either tell me what it says, or let me see it for myself.

  “It says your Cessna went down over New Guinea, but the wreck hasn’t been recovered yet.

  The pilot was having equipment failure and reported his last known coordinates before losing contact.”

  Yup. That’s what happened. I actually made it through the crash. But we landed in a jungle or some shit. I didn’t get very far before I died. He paused and then mumbled, Just had to go to the Solomon Islands.

  She felt his irritation. “What?”

  I was supposed to head back to the states to hit the studio with the rest of the guys, but I just had to swing by the Solomon Islands before I left. I was stupid. The pilot said bad weather was coming in, but I insisted. Even paid the man a couple extra grand to make sure he’d take me.

  She tried to quash her thoughts of ‘if only’, and if some had made it through, he didn’t comment. But she was sure he was already thinking the same thing. Who wouldn’t be? “I take it the rest of the band wasn’t with you? Or your brother?” Naw. I had a habit of taking a trip before being stuck in a studio for however long. They usually stayed behind. Got stuff ready. He sighed. Fuck, I was selfish. I always left that shit for them to deal with.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” she mused, trying to distract him from beating himself up. “If they’re anything like you, they’d have let you know if they minded.” You’re absolutely right. They would’ve. And they did, when needed. He chuckled as the image of a tal , dark-haired man popped into Addison’s head. He was punching Rhys in the shoulder, cal ing him a

  ‘lazy-ass motherfucker’.

  Even though the memory looked physical y painful, she felt the fondness in his reminiscing.

  “Was that Xavier?”

  Yeah. Best fucking man I know. All right. What else did you find?

  She closed the article and clicked on the next link. “What exactly are we hoping to find?” I want to find out what’s all happened. I’m thinking that if I can see everyone’s cool, I can move on, or whatever it is I’m supposed to be doing.

  Other than possessing you, that is.

  “So…closure.”

  Yeah. Closure.

  Addison tapped her fingers impatiently on her desk as she perused the screen. “Black Codex is your band.” It was more of a confirmation than anything else.

  One in the same. Again, with an obvious swel of pride.

  “I hate to tel you this, Rhys. But it looks someone named Zander might break the band up.” What the fuck?! No way.

  No way I’m letting him do that shit!

  She briefly wondered who Zander was and what gave him that power. “How are you going to stop him?” I’m not. You are.

  “What could I possibly do?” Fury rol ed off him in waves, his anger bleeding into her soul, carrying her into the emotion with him. “Hold on. Calm down. You don’t even know if he’s going to or not. They just found out you died. Give it time to sink in. Maybe they’l al pul through.”

  His emotions shifted and started to abate. Yeah. That’s right. We’ll just keep an eye on it.

  Make sure they stick together. Shit. It would fucking kill my brother to lose me and Black Codex.

  He’s not thinking clearly right now. He’ll change his mind.

  “Who is this Zander person, anyway?” She was surprised to want to kick his ass, even though she had no idea who he was.

  That’s my brother. Zander is his stage name. I’m the only one who calls him Xavier.

  So, she supposed she wouldn’t be kicking his ass after al .

  No, you might still get your chance. His laugh wasn’t as forced as she thought it would be, and was glad to feel the overal tone of his emotions lighten.

  She smiled at his comment, clicking on a picture on the band. Another click blew it up to twice its original size, and she leaned forward studying the faces and reading the captions below.

  “Is this you?”

  Don't know what you're looking at. Concentrate.

  He almost sounded bored, or was it exasperated?

  Neither. I'm just trying to work with you here. Now, focus on the picture so I can see it too.

  She stared hard at the image of what she thought was him, hoping what she saw was funneling to him through her consciousness.

  Yup, that's me. Handsome sonofabitch, aren't I?

  At first glance al she saw was a menacing male, dressed in ful makeup for the stage. And then she real y took a long look at him, trying to keep her thoughts under the radar.

  She could tel right away he was tal , and that alone was irresistible. But he also had these amazing blue eyes that dril ed right into her with their intensity. Forcing her gaze to drift, she took in his strong jaw, prominent cheekbones, and perfectly straight nose. His hair was a spiky halo of black, and she wondered how it would feel if she ran her fingers through it without al the goop making stand on end.

  She barely managed to contain the shiver threatening to rol through her.

  Well?

  She shrugged, knowing he couldn’t see it, but hoping it added to the forced casualness of her response. “Who can tel with al that eyeliner?”

  Yeah, right. Did you forget I can feel you? His laugh was cocky, per the usual. You want me.

  Admit it.

  She scowled, per her usual. “Get. Out. Of. My. Head.” Trying to, sweetheart. Trying to.

  She closed the picture, and then the browser. “Are we done?” Hold up. I wanna know what you look like too.

  Why would he care?

  Because I can feel everything you do. That’s weird enough without having a damned clue about your appearance. Maybe then I won’t feel like I’m stuck in limbo.

  She felt a measure of compassion towards him, until she caught the snide undertone. He just wanted to check her out.

  Caught that, did you? The amusement was clear. But in my defense, you should be able to feel my curiosity too.

  And at least a little bit of sincerity. He paused, presumably considering his own words for the truth. Shouldn’t you?

  Addison didn’t know how to untangle the jumble of emotions she felt from him and just took his word for it as she scrol ed through her online pictures. She was careful not to concentrate until she found the one she was looking for; it was taken for a promotional ad about her photography studio. She was wearing a simple white blouse with black slacks and her black-framed glasses. Her hair pul ed back into a sle
ek twist. She looked every bit the photographer she was, and that’s al she wanted him to know about her.

  “Here I am.” She concentrated on the image, and found it was starting to come easier to her.

  She could feel what information was breaking through to him. “I own a photography studio,” she explained further, as if it would matter to him.

  It was quiet for a moment before he responded. Nice eyes.

  Addison rol ed her eyes, ful y taking in his disappointment.

  “Gee, thanks.” Hey. That was a compliment.

  “Barely. Your mental cringe at the picture didn’t help much either.” She didn’t real y care what he thought, but she stil thought he was being rude.

  Hell, it’s not like I can lie to you. What can I say? I like my chicks smokin’.

  She caught a glimpse of a scantily-clad redhead in her mind’s eye. Ew, what a skank! “You mean sleazy.” Whatever works.

  She made a sound of disgust in the back of her throat.

  “You’re such a man-slut.” He laughed and then was quiet for a minute while she closed out her picture files. Again, she was careful not to transmit the images, confident she had a handle on how to do it now. She just had to figure out how to do the same with her thoughts.

  You know, you’re right.

  “I usual y am,”—she smiled to herself—“but about what in this case.” It is annoying to have someone know what you’re thinking.

  “Like you care what I think anyhow.” But a tendril of his emotions broke through the thin barrier between them. For some reason, he did care.

  Yeah. Maybe a little bit.

  “Interesting,” she murmured with a smirk.

  Chapter Three

  It was weird. Once Addison believed Rhys was an actual person who had died, and not some figment of her imagination, their bond strengthened. She could feel the elasticity of it; the give and take.

  What are you doing?

  “Just checking things out. Why? What do you feel when I do this?” Lounging on her bed, she mental y pushed towards her impression of him.

  Back off, woman.

  “Would you just tel me what it feels like?” It feels like I’m being violated, that’s what. Damn she-devil.