Free The Power by Cynthia Roberts

reason to fear Lillian. She knows that you are here to protect her, that you know she is a good.”
    “Person?” Lillian turned to Reginald, raising a perfectly arched blonde brow.
    “Yes.” Reginald agreed, and Lillian tossed him a smile as Josh ranted that he didn’t fear her at all.
    “Don’t forget what it is that I am, Reginald.” she warned, but Reginald m erely huffed in a way that said it was no big deal before going on. “You must learn to trust Lillian, Josh, as she must learn to trust you.” he voiced wisely like a scolding father settling a squabble between his offspring. Lillian wondered if that would ever happen? It had taken her a long time to trust Reginald, she recalled.
    Lillian turned back to Josh. She knew he was a good man. She could read it of him and of Troy. Both of Reginald’s grandsons were much like Reginald himself, good-hearted, good souls, men who would die to protect her. She met Josh’s light blue gaze and held it with ease.
    “You must be tired.” Josh acknowledged. The sleep was coming for her soon. She could feel it dragging at the backs of her lids. Her body was feeling heavy and growing numb all over.
    “Very.” she agreed, and she turned to Reginald. “Be careful out there at night, all of you.” she warned, and Reginald nodded that he understood before he took her arm and led her to the door that would lead her down into the basement where she would retire for the evening.
     
    Dr. Nicole Harold had a cot in the back of her office that she used when the nights ran long, like they seemed to be running tonight. It hadn’t taken her long to discover that Arthur Miller, as the deceased had been identified as through the means of the wallet located in the victim’s back pocket, had indeed been drained of blood. Barely a drop had remained within the body. Where had all the blood gone? It was a question that had plagued Dr. Harold’s thoughts all evening. The answers that came to her were not sane. Even she was aware of that. She was a doctor of science. She knew better than to let her mind wander to these dark places, but how could she not? She had been there that night after all. She had heard the piercing screams of her parents. She had seen for herself those white eyes that the journal she had read much later had spoken of. Gooseflesh popped up on her arms, and she shivered. Shaking her wild mane, she shook the thoughts from her mind. She was going to wind up in an asylum if she wasn’t careful, she scolded her wayward thoughts.
    “Stick to the facts, Nicole.” she voiced the strong words out loud. “Just the facts, Ma’am.” she mimicked the old television show that she used to watch reruns of as a kid. But she closed her eyes and she could still hear the tortured screams , and she was tempted to block her ears to keep them out. Rising, she tossed the wool blanket she had covered up with back onto the barely used cot and began to earnestly pace her muddled office. Her filing system was in shambles if she could even call it that. God, she needed a better assistant.
     
    “It’s just like I told you, Jack.” Dr. Harold threw out the old, I told you so, when Jack came to the morgue early that next morning. She was dressed in the same clothing she had had on the night before, which let Jack know that she hadn’t gone home or to sleep yet. She had pulled an all-nighter. She was very dedicated to her work, even if her work involved urban legends! Jack shook his head at the thought as he followed Dr. Harold into the freezer.
    Jack stepped up to the stainless steel table that the victim now lay upon. The wallet in the man’s pocket had identified him as Arthur Miller. Jack had checked the man out on his computer at home last night. The man was clean, no record to speak of. Arthur Miller had worked writing children’s stories and had lived all over the world. His murder would not go unnoticed and that didn’t sit easy with Jack, especially with the whole irrational