Blood & Soul

Blood & Soul by Deborah O'Toole (aka Deidre Dalton) is Book #3 in the Bloodline Trilogy.

Emma Beckett is adopted into a loving home as an infant, never knowing the true circumstances of her birth. As a child, she discovers she has unique powers of healing but eventually realizes her abilities could be an instrument of evil, begotten by a bloodthirsty monster.

From Chapter Seven: First Encounters

THE TRIPLE MOON Auto Repair shop front was comprised of a dark-green facade, with the company name stenciled in tall gold letters over the large picture window facing West Cedar Street. The store itself only covered a small area, with a long counter and cash register, and several rows of miscellaneous auto parts and accessories on display. The repair zone was located through a door behind the cash register, stretching as far as the eye could see to a set of tall garage doors that opened onto an alley.

A typical day would have cars hoisted into the air on tall auto lifts, most of them of the expensive variety: Aston Martin, Bentley, BMW, Bugatti, Cadillac, Ferrari, Lamborghini, Lincoln, Mercedes, Porsche, Range Rover and Rolls Royce, among others.

Kirk employed more than twenty mechanics, most of whom worked from Monday through Saturday. Triple Moon Auto Repair was not open for business on Sundays and major holidays, although Kirk had been known to help longtime customers regardless if they found themselves in a pinch when the shop was supposed to be closed.

Emma found the shop without too much difficulty, thanks to the map Kate had printed for her. She stared at the building, pausing as she read the lettering. She mouthed the words to herself: "Triple Moon Auto Repair. How interesting." She entered the store, map in hand, and proceeded to the back. A young man, not much older than herself, stood behind the counter. He had thin, dark brown hair and eyes, and was wearing the auto shop uniform of black trousers and a coal grey shirt, the name "Mick" stitched in gold thread over the right breast pocket.

"Can I help you?" he asked politely, his eyes widening as she drew closer.

Emma gave him a smile. "I hope so. My name is Emma Beckett, and I'm here to see Kirk Lester."

"Do you have an appointment?"

Emma shook her head. "No, he wasn't expecting me. But if you tell him I'm here, I'm sure he'll see me."

Mick paused, keeping his eyes on her face. "If you don't mind me asking, are you a relative of Kirk's?" He looked sheepish. "I mean, you bear a stunning resemblance to him."

"Yes, I'm a relative."

He nodded. "Sure, that's what I thought. Give me a minute, and I'll go find Kirk in the shop." The young man turned and quickly disappeared through the door behind the counter.

Emma glanced around the store as she waited. The floor was hard but highly polished, auto parts and accessories hanging from small hooks and lined neatly in rows. She saw all manner of belts, hoses, fasteners, filters, hardware, and chemicals: plastic oil canisters, windshield wiper fluid, WD-40, along with a large variety of air fresheners.

She heard the door behind the counter open. She turned to see Kirk approaching her, wiping his hands on a dark green shop towel. He wore the same uniform as Mick, only with his name "Kirk" above the breast pocket.

"Hi," she said quickly. "I didn't mean to barge in unannounced, but I wanted to see where you worked."

He regarded her, a puzzled expression on his face. At first, she thought he was going to dismiss her, but then his features softened. "Nothing to see, really," he replied casually. "Just a bunch of cars on hoists, with men working underneath them."

"I'd still like to see it."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself. Follow me, and I'll give you the grand tour."

She trailed him through the door, immediately assailed by a blast of cool air, and the mingling aromas of grease, oil and human sweat.

"It can get hellishly hot in here," Kirk offered in explanation when he saw her wrinkled nose. "I keep several swamp coolers on the roof, which also helps circulate any exhaust in the air."

"You seem to do a brisk business," Emma noted as she gazed at more than a dozen cars up on hoists, two rows back on the sides of the shop. "And they look like fancy cars."

Kirk flashed her a brief smile. "We keep busy all year round. The elite of Beacon Hill like their cars fixed quick. We do a pick-up and delivery service as well, so they don't have to traipse to the shop."

"What kind of car do you and Kate drive?" Emma asked, curious.

"I have a Camaro, while Katie drives a Camry."

"I belong to the sierra club at school," Emma said as they began walking down the aisle between hoists. "I never learned to drive. I always take my bike everywhere."

"That would probably suffice in a small town like Mendocino," he told her with a nod. "But Boston is a big city. Having a car is pretty much a necessity here, unless one takes public transport."

Emma suddenly became aware that she and Kirk, while talking about trifles as they walked along together, were being closely observed by several employees of the shop. Kirk didn't seem to notice, his stride long yet slow. He had a confident air, a tranquility that seemed to come naturally. She wondered if there was something deeper, hidden just underneath the surface, that made her biological father tick.

One man in particular, with his name "Salvatore" displayed above the right breast pocket of his shirt, seemed spellbound by the sight of father and daughter moving along together. He was holding a long, heavy wrench, which had gone somewhat slack as he watched them, his mouth slightly agape. He was older, perhaps in his forties, with a pencil-thin mustache and receding black hair.

Just as Emma and Kirk were to pass by Salvatore, he let the wrench slip from his hands. It fell with a resounding thud on the top of his left foot, causing him to cry out in sharp pain and drop to his knees.

Kirk darted toward the fallen man, Emma quickly on his heels. Salvatore was sitting now, both his hands covering his left foot, his face pinched with pain. "I think I broke it," he moaned, his heavy Italian accent making his words barely comprehensible.

Kirk kneeled down next to the man, touching his shoulder. "Sal, can we get your shoe off to take a look?"

"I don't know," he replied reluctantly. "It's throbbing like fire, and I think I feel something piercing the skin."

"Let me try, Sal," Kirk said gently.

The man nodded. "Okay, but go easy, will you?"

 Kirk untied the laces on the black canvas shoes slowly, reaching down to hold the heel so he could pull the shoe outward and off. Emma watched in consternation, wincing slightly as she saw the pain written on Salvatore's face.

Kirk drew off the shoe after a few minutes, eliciting several deep moans from Salvatore. He then peeled off the dark-colored ankle stockings, setting it with the shoe turned on its side on the concrete.

Emma stared at the man's bruised and bloodied foot, detecting the bone from his big toe joint sticking out through his skin.

"Oh my God," Salvatore said, horrified as he looked down at his foot.

"We'll get it taken care of," Kirk told him. "Let's get you to Mass General hospital, Sal, and get it fixed up. I'll cover the cost since it happened while you were on the job."

"Wait," Emma spoke up as she kneeled down next to Salvatore. "Let me have a closer look."

Salvatore looked askance at her, but said nothing. She held his gaze to draw his attention away from his foot as she placed her hand gently on the protruding bone. "It'll be okay," she said in a soothing tone. "It's not as bad as it looks."

"Emma," Kirk spoke softly. "What do you think you're doing?"

She gave him a brief glance. "Trust me," she whispered, and then turned her attention back to Salvatore.

A group of mechanics had gathered around the scene, watching as Emma knelt over their co-worker. Kirk noticed them, pointing his finger at Mick. "Go and get a clean cloth soaked in warm water. Hurry."

Mick scurried off to the rear of the shop, but soon returned with a dampened dark green shop towel. Emma had already relaxed her stance and removed her hand from Salvatore's foot. She reached for the towel, so Mick thrust it into her hands.

She gently wiped away traces of blood on Salvatore's foot. His eyes grew wider as he watched her. The warm wash had revealed smooth skin all over the top of his foot, the protruding bone no longer evident. Apart from a slight reddening around his big toe joint, his foot looked normal.

Salvatore gasped loudly, pulling his foot away from Emma. "Il Malocchio," he cried out, terror in his eyes as he pulled himself to his feet. He grabbed his shoe and stocking, and quickly ran to the door leading into the store, slamming it behind him.

Kirk had heard enough of Salvatore's Italian utterances over time to understand what the man had relayed. He had said to Emma, plain and simple: "The evil eye."

"What the hell just happened?" Kirk wondered aloud, his eyes going to Emma.

She shrugged lightly, pulling herself upright. "It wasn't as bad as it looked once I washed the blood off. Salvatore will be fine."

Kirk stared at her, his mind suddenly in a whirl. Emma had healed Sal's broken bone right in front of his eyes. There was no doubt about it. He felt an encroaching fear run along his spine. Emma was his daughter, true, but she was also Kate's daughter, and Noel's granddaughter. Did Emma have a special gift of her own through the bloodline, somehow filtered and mutated through Noel and Kate? As fantastic as it sounded, it was the only plausible explanation to what he had just witnessed.

He rose to his feet, gesturing to the mechanics who were still standing around, most of them wearing dumbfounded expressions on their faces. "Okay, guys," he said sternly. "Back to work."

The men shuffled to their hoist stations. The shop had grown eerily quiet as the drama had unfolded, but began filling with noise again after a long minute.

Kirk turned to Emma. "Thank you for helping Sal. You're right, it must have looked worse than it really was."

She nodded. "What did he say to me just before he ran off? I didn't understand it."

Kirk hesitated. "Sal is a superstitious Italian, full of weird sayings."

"I get that, but what did he say?"

"Il Malocchio is an Italian phrase meaning the evil eye."

Emma drew in her breath. "Why would he say that to me?"

"He thought his foot was broke, and you seemed to fix it just by touching him. It probably seemed other-worldly to him."

She nodded slowly. "That makes sense, I guess." She raised her head and looked Kirk in the eye. "I was just trying to help."

"And you did," he assured her. "Thank you."

Emma smiled thinly. "Well, I've taken enough of your time. I'll go back to the house. See you tonight?"

"I'll be there," he replied, returning her smile.

Kirk watched as she made her way to the store door. Then he turned back to the shop, where he saw the mechanics watching her departure as well.

"Back to work," he growled. "That's my daughter you're ogling."

The men hastily returned to their work, casting furtive glances at Kirk as he returned to his own hoist station. He ignored them, concentrating on the underbelly of a silver Porsche over his head instead.

* * *

WHEN HE GOT home later that afternoon, Kirk headed straight upstairs to take a shower and change his clothes. Kate followed him, telling her husband about her day with Emma, Shawn, Noel and Pim. "We had lunch at The Grotto," she said as she watched Kirk strip off his dirty work shirt.

"Sounds like fun," Kirk said absently, bending over to remove his trousers. "My day was quite interesting as well."

Kate sat on the edge of the bed. "Emma wanted to see where you worked, so I gave her a map to the place. How did it go?"

"It went fine, until Emma healed old Sal's broken foot."

"Broken foot?" Kate repeated, mystified. "When did Sal break his foot?"

Kirk snorted. "Well, apparently he didn't. That's the thing."

Kate shook her head. "You're not making sense, darling."

"I was showing Emma around the shop," Kirk continued as he paused at the foot of the bed. "Sal dropped a rather large wrench right onto his foot, and he went down in pain. I took off his shoes and sock, and there it was. The bone near his big toe joint was sticking out from his skin. Before I could do anything, Emma stepped in and placed her hand on Sal's foot. This went on for about a minute. When she moved her hand away and washed his foot with a towel, the bone was no longer sticking out from his foot. It's like the break never happened." He gazed down at his wife. "What do you make of that?"

Kate looked shocked. "I'm not sure. It sounds . . . unbelievable, to be honest."

"Really?" He asked, exasperation edging his tone. "You of all people find it unbelievable, Katie? This coming from a woman who can bend minds, and with a mother who can read them?"

Kate swallowed. "I guess it's possible, but how?"

Kirk turned and walked to their closet, where he drew out a pair of clean black trousers and a fawn-colored pullover. "The nearest thing I can figure is, Emma somehow inherited something from you and Noel. You know, the bloodline filtering down through generations might somehow be mutated with a different gift. There is no rational explanation for it, of course, and no one would ever believe us, naturally, but there it is."

Kate stared at him. She had gone pale, her eyes fearful as she spoke to him. "I wouldn't wish what I have on anyone, let alone my own daughter. To think she might possess something because of me, and Mom, it's just unthinkable."

"You don't have a choice in the matter," Kirk replied laconically. "Besides, having the power to heal isn't such a bad thing. Don't you agree?"

"It's not that," Kate protested. "It's the burden of it, don't you see? The power to heal is all fine, but carrying the weight of such a skill for a lifetime will crush her, especially if people were to find out about it."

"We'll just have to make sure no one finds out about it, then."

"I wonder if Cabral and Darcy realize Emma has the power to heal?"

"They must have an inkling," Kirk responded. "They raised her. Surely they noticed something over the years."

"Should we ask Emma about it?"

Kirk shrugged. "I'd say no, only because I think she should bring it up first. If she wants to talk about it, then we can listen to her and offer our support."

"How can we offer our support? These gifts . . . are solitary afflictions. There is no way to alleviate the pressure of having it."

"We can listen to her, comfort her. Beyond that, I have no idea."

Kate studied her husband. "How do you feel about her being here? Meeting her?"

Kirk sighed as he made his way to the bathroom. He paused in the doorway to look back at Kate, who was still sitting on the bed. "I wasn't too excited about it at first, frankly. Why stir up a hornet's nest? But now that I've met her, I'm glad we agreed to it. She's a good girl, Katie. And she has a good head on her shoulders. Now . . . well, I'm actually proud to be her father. She turned out splendidly, with much of the credit going to Cabral and Darcy. Still, we made her, you and I. That counts for something, doesn't it?" With a wink, he turned and went into the bathroom. A minute later, Kate heard the shower running.

She remained seated on the bed, a slight smile curving her lips. It was true. Emma was the best part of them, and nothing could ever change it.