“It’s all right, sweetheart. I won’t let him touch you. I know everything, all of it, every terrible thing he’s done to you. The police will take him away and lock him up so tight he’ll never get out again.” Once more she used her voice, the pure tones of truth and honesty, so that the girl would not retreat too far when her father entered the room.
Francesca slowly returned to her own body. As always when she healed out of her body, she was drained to the point of exhaustion. She rose with calm, unhurried movements, pushed open the door and beckoned Brice inside. “It’s her father. He’s committed terrible crimes against this child. Call the police and make certain they come down here at once to arrest him. Ask for Argassy, use my name. Tell him I said it was an emergency.”
Brice glanced at Skyler, still in the fetal position, her eyes blank and dull. “If she can’t tell them, Francesca…” He trailed off as Francesca’s black gaze began to smolder. At times the compassionate healer could look quite intimidating.
“She will not have to testify.” It was a decree. Francesca turned away from him.
Brice had one hand on the door when it suddenly crashed open, flinging him backward to fall against the bed. A huge burly bear of a man staggered in, blinking at them with hate-filled eyes. His hands were huge, opening and closing into fists. He barely looked at Brice, clearly dismissing him as an obstacle. His gaze settled on Francesca, whose hand was linked to Skyler’s.
“What is this?” he bellowed. “How dare you come into my daughter’s room when I said no one was allowed in here. Who are you?”
Francesca lowered her voice until it was as soft and clean as a gentle breeze. “I am this child’s advocate. She is very ill, Mr. Thompson, and I want you to leave this room before you distress her further.”
Her voice was so compelling, the man actually turned to leave, one hand up to push at the door. Then he spun around shaking his head, a cunning feral hatred gathering in his eyes. “You little bitch, you can’t tell me what to do with my own daughter.” Deliberately he stalked across the room toward her. Skyler was essential to him, his only way to get his drugs now.
He was good at intimidating others, Francesca admitted. He had perfected his technique with years of practicing on Skyler and her mother. He was an ugly brute of a man with a special need to inflict pain and fear on others. She read him easily, recognized his enjoyment of hurting others—men, children, women, it didn’t matter. He needed to do so. Francesca could see Brice making himself very small, cowering in the corner, trying to edge toward the door. If he made it, he could call security and bring help immediately.
Francesca controlled the beating of her heart, knowing Skyler was still clinging to her, still waiting to see if she was true to her word. Francesca sent waves of reassurance, a calm tranquility she didn’t actually feel. This man should have walked out the door at her command. He was human and the hidden compulsion in her voice should have been enough to control him, but it hadn’t worked. She could handle the situation using other powers and skills, but it was a chancy thing to do with Brice in the room and a legendary vampire somewhere in the city. Lucian would feel the surge of power, know the touch was feminine. It could very well bring instant trouble to the hospital, to her friends as well as to her.
The man stood so close she could see the hair on his chest through his dirty shirt. He smelled of cheap whiskey and rye. The taint of drugs seeped from his pores. She met his gaze with a calm acceptance of his rage. If he struck her, her friends would see to it that he would be locked up for a very long time. And he was going to strike her. The air was thick with tension.
“You bitch. You need a real man to show you how to behave. Your simpering little doctor probably runs to you every time you crook your little finger.” Deliberately he cupped his crotch lewdly. “You smell good, lady, and I’ll bet your skin is as soft as it looks.” He was breathing too fast, already stiff and licking his lips with anticipation. His hand moved to touch her face, to feel if her skin could possibly be as soft as it looked. “Don’t!” It was a sharp command. Francesca didn’t move. Her eyes blazed at him, glaring with contempt. He was incapable of performing sexually. She knew that much about him.