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SOUL BOUND
     
    Luxie Ryder
     
    Copyright © 2011
     
     
    Nathan.  His was the face I saw in my mind, as my life flashed
before my eyes at the moment of my death.
    I heard the rapid volley of gunfire and closed my eyes to wait
for the pain, the flash from the barrel still visible behind my eyelids as if
burned into my retinas. 
    My hand was on my holster, fumbling with the fastening, stopping
me from grabbing the butt of my gun and evening up the odds of my
survival.  Hernandes must have known his wife had called the cops and that
we were coming.  He was waiting out in the hall for us and we never really
stood a chance.  A routine domestic disturbance call had just turned
deadly.
    Total silence and complete stillness followed the sound of the
gunfire and I wondered if I was dead but just didn't know it yet. 
    Open your eyes.  You're safe.
    I obeyed Nathan's command without question, so surprised by the
clarity of his voice that I looked at my would-be assassin to see if it was
really he who had spoken.  Hernandes was staring at the semi-automatic in
his hand like he didn't understand how it got there.  He lifted his
disbelieving gaze to my chest and his eyebrows knit together as his confusion
deepened.
    My partner Jorge barreled past me, shoving me out of the way,
charging forwards and grabbing Hernandes' gun.  Jorge's anger at the
situation made him a little more heavy handed than usual and he slammed
Hernandes to the ground, knocking the wind out of him, a knee pressed into the
small of his back.  The part of my brain that wasn't preoccupied with an
image of Nathan had some sympathy for the guy sprawled on the floor with six feet
four and two hundred and fifty pounds of buzz cut ex-linebacker on top of him.
    "You ok, Jessica?" Jorge barked at me, glancing up only
briefly as he took far too much time and got far too much pleasure in cuffing
the guy.
    I realized then I hadn't yet moved.  My training kicked in
and I rushed to help Jorge drag the guy to his feet and haul his ass down the
stairs to the cruiser.  Jorge read him his rights but the guy wasn't
listening.  He couldn't seem to take his eyes off me.
    "Bruja," he whispered, his lips quivering around the
word as his gaze became fearful.
    "What does that mean?"
    "He thinks you're a witch," Jorge said, giving the guy
another shove.
    I laughed, ignoring the fear twisting my gut at the expression in
Hernandes' eyes.  "Typical! Calls me a witch rather than admit he
couldn't hit the side of a barn."
    "Bruja," he said again, louder this time, hysteria
creeping into his voice.  I pushed him into the cruiser and slammed the
door.  I'd encountered some crazy cons in my time but I'd never seen one
go from cold-blooded cop killer to sniveling wreck in the space of two
seconds.  But his very evident terror got to me, and I decided it might be
best to let Jorge deal with him back at the station. 
    ****
    I managed to ignore the questions churning in the back of my mind
and twisting my stomach in knots until I sat down to right my report. Questions
like, if my life was flashing before my eyes, why had an image of Nathan, who I
hadn't seen in my years come to mind rather than David, the man who I'd been
dating up until a year ago? 
    Words filled the page, painting a picture for those who weren't
there, and I knew others who tried to make sense of the scene my report
recreated would have the same misgivings as me when they saw the gaps in the
logic. 
    When forensics got through with the crime scene, my captain
called me into his office, and I saw the same disbelief I felt mirrored back at
me in his expression.  He told me they'd found empty shells on the floor -
but no bullet holes anywhere - which was weird because Ballistics was sure the
gun fired a round of maybe ten shots or more, all of them aimed at me.
    That's when I started to cry.
     
     

 
    Chapter One
     
     “I need a volunteer from the audience.”
    Nathan Cain’s midnight blue gaze slid along my