Eyes to the Soul Read Online Free PDF Page A

one – had wiped him out.
    In spite of himself Stefan felt his flagging spirits lift. What did that say about him that a series of cases, probably death and destruction, interested him? He’d been doing this work for too long. He needed a break.
    A real rest.
    He turned to stare at Celina. As if aware, she turned those blind eyes his way. He’d already sent out a probe to see if he could touch her aura. She’d rebuffed him immediately. That wasn’t good. She needed to let him in.
    But then, since she didn’t know him, why would she let him in? Then again, she rebuffed his energy like a pro – and how did that work? Was she psychic? He’d often assumed any partner of his would be, but had contemplated the joys of one that wasn’t. He had enough upsetting nights, edginess with energy flares and disturbed dreams for several people. Being around non-psychic people was calming, soothing in a way. At the same time they didn’t understand him or his work or what he could be going through at any given moment.
    “Hey Stefan, snap out of it, will you? Sam’s going through some weird stuff. I’ve done some research but I could use your take on it to help sort through this mess. Can we meet or not?”
    “Fine. I need to go home too.” He stared at his watch in disbelief. He hadn’t once considered the time when he’d thrown on clothes and rushed down here to be with her. “Can’t believe it’s after two in the morning already.”
    “Meet me in the parking lot in five.” Brandt hung up.
    Stefan stared at the horrible pastel walls, hearing the muted sobs in the background. He hated hospitals normally and wouldn’t come willingly. Had actually shored up his own defenses to come in. As the foreign energies buffeted him on all sides he realized it was past time to leave.
    With a last lingering look at Celina he started to walk away when he felt something odd. He spun around, but the hospital waiting room was empty other than Celina and… a few ghosts. She sat in the same place, her head now resting back and her eyes closed. A simple fog of energy floated toward him. From her? From someone else? He reached out a hand and the fog retreated. He stepped forward and the fog dissipated. Instantly.
    The hairs on the back of his neck lifted. He stared at Celina but she never shifted.
    Instinctively he backed up a step and then another. What the hell – or who the hell – was that?
    He glanced around the room a second time, reassured himself that the ghostly visitor was no longer there, and turned around and left. Sometimes he saw too much.
    *
    He shuddered, the weakness spreading throughout his being. He didn’t know where he was. Who he was. Or maybe what he was. That was a better way to say it. His existence had spread so thin, his mind so weak, his strength so nonexistent.
    It was getting harder to keep his thoughts together. But clarity was elusive. There and gone again. Solid then vaporous. And always worse after he focused everything he had and managed to execute one more step in his plan. The massive effort draining his reserves, as if the shock was too much for his system and he needed to reboot.
    He needed to grab onto something – someone – and focus again. Likely, onto her. She made a great target. He could do more. Say more – be more when he was with her. But after he left it was as if he closed in on himself – worse off than before. As if the effort to be there in that form took more out of him than anything else. This reaction was lessening the stronger he became, but there was still a weakening of his senses when he left her. As if she were taking something from him.
    Which added to his hatred.
    This existence was not what he’d wanted. Not what he’d thought would happen to him. It was good and it was really horrible. How could he survive with so many fragments of reality? How could he pull this disjointed existence into something stronger? More coherent? He desperately needed to. This