Cursed Contact: Division of Special Abilities, #2

By Stefania Gil

Imagine that one day, you think you’re in a dream where you’re the killer and you’re stopped by the police right when the victim’s life is hanging by a thread, and all the evidence points to you.

Imagine that, as they arrest you and you’re overcome with fear, you want to wake up but you can’t, because you’re not in a dream.

You’re living it all in real time.

From a very young age Dakota Grant understood that she had abilities distinguishing her from other people, making her the perfect target for rejection for being ‘different’.

But Dakota uses this rejection to become stronger and reach the important position of Special Agent that she always dreamed of. She knew her entrance in the FBI could help her find more people like herself, with significant differences that made them special. She couldn’t be the only one, and she was convinced that once she found them, she would find a way for those different ones to save the world from evil.

And everything seemed to be working out until Zaccaria Romano, one of the external consultants on her new team, starts to live between dreams and reality, committing acts that soon make him the most wanted killer in recent months.

Will Dakota be able to get to the bottom of what’s going on?

Will Zaccaria return to normal, free of all blame?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stefania Gil
• Release date: Sep 16, 2020
• ISBN: 9781071565971

Book preview

"Anything one man can imagine,

other men can make real."

— Jules Verne —

Prologue

FBI! Put your hands up! Shouted Dakota Grant, who was in charge of the operation.

The subject refused to put his hands up. The victim was bleeding and needed attention, but first they had to neutralize the attacker.

Dakota wanted to run at him and ask him why he had done it. However, there was protocol to follow and if Palmer found out that her feelings were getting mixed up in the case, he would take her off it.

She couldn’t allow that at such a critical point. Zac needed her.

Concentrate.

Hands up! Shouted another of the special agents.

There was only a lamp in the corner, which even together with the agents’ flashlights who were moving around the room and securing the scene, scarcely illuminated the area.

Three of the flashlights were trained on the attacker, who at that moment, dropped his weapon and raised his hands as he had been ordered to.

Put your hands on your head and get on your knees, slowly.

Zaccaria did.

Now, lie on the floor with your hands to your sides.

They tied his hands behind his back and left him there while the paramedics attended to the victim with the rapidity required of the case.

Dakota swept her flishlight around.

Everything was dirty, destroyed, totally deserted. Like the rest of the building.

She shook her head.

She still couldn’t believe how things had turned out.

I’m going to read him his rights and book him.

She nodded, a frank concern showing on her face as she watched Hunt begin to recite the words he knew so well and that she herself had pronounced in the name of justice.

You have the right to remain silent and refuse to answer questions. Anything you say may be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to consult an attorney before speaking to the police and to have an attorney present during questioning now or in the future. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you before any questioning if you wish. If you decide to answer questions now without an attorney present, you will still have the right to stop answering at any time until you talk to an attorney.

They brusquely pulled the suspect to his feet and took him out of there.

The paramedics took the victim away but didn’t hold out much hope for her survival.

Dakota still couldn’t believe what was happening.

She went outside and watched as Madison hurriedly approached Zaccaria.

None of this could make sense. She wished with all her being that none of it made sense.

Zac couldn’t have gotten that far.

She approached Madison, who was looking at her in anguish as Mark carefully helped Zac into the patrol car.

He went peacefully.

Dakota was still in shock.

He had the weapon in his hands, and he was in front of the victim.

Madison felt like she was drowning.

He just told me not to worry, she told Dakota in a shaky voice, because, in the morning, everything’s going to change. He thinks he’s in one of those dreams that have been troubling him.

We have to clear this up; Zac can’t end up in prison.

It was not possible that Zac was the killer they were looking for, and they would find a way to prove his innocence.

Chapter 1

Zaccaria was walking frenziedly through the empty city streets.

It was past midnight and he still hadn’t managed to shake the anxiety he held inside.

He was trying to remember what he had eaten and where, to have awoken this strange feeling in him which was driving him crazy. And even more worrying was the need to find peace with a thought he couldn’t get out of his head, and which terrified and excited him in equal measure: vengeance and death.

He fought against his anxiety to try and control it, but it seemed useless. What’s more, each attempt at control shook him up inside even more.

His mind made up not to fight against his own nature, and to figure out just what was affecting him in this way, he went into a bar.

He went straight to the bathroom, and inside, bumped into a man who gave him a black look.

Zac felt the rage grow inside him and wanted to punch him right in the face to see if that would relieve his anger.

It would seem that his good sense was still up and running in that moment, and he took notice, making himself continue towards the urinals, empty his bladder, and then wash his hands.

When he left the bathroom, the angry looking guy was waiting for him in the hallway.

The man, as wide as he was tall, was a scary sight. However, what he represented to Zac was a great challenge to be toppled.

He clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to jump on top of him and hit him until his strength ran out. His hands seemed to have a life of their own and, in an attempt to control his whole body and the night’s barbaric impulses, he closed his fists tight until he felt the pain in both palms from his own nails piercing the skin.

The man raised a sarcastic eyebrow.

He took a step forward, and Zac, one back.

In a rapid movement, the man punched Zac on the nose, which made him shrink back in pain. Taking advantage of this, the man was able to hit Zaccaria again on his left side.

I know what you are, and I wonder if you’re going to defend yourself.

Zaccaria felt the anger consuming him inside and got up, locking his gaze on that of his aggressor.

He didn’t give the man time to react and he didn’t even know how he moved with such agility and speed, but in a couple of seconds and after several direct shots to the giant’s face and gut, the guy fell to the floor and Zac dragged him easily back inside the bathroom.

He left him on the floor, complaining, while he took care to lock the door so that no one could interrupt them, because that man was going to get what he had coming. And then some.

He looked at him, smiled hatefully, and let himself be carried away by rage and the thirst for vengeance.

Before his opponent could even think about getting up, Zac sat astride him and his punches showed no mercy to the human face below him; soon disfiguring it, turning it into an awful, bleeding dough.

It wasn’t enough, he needed more.

He kept hitting him until his own hands were painful and burning.

Freedom didn’t come and the violence only demanded more.

Zac needed to take that life.

And just like he were an expert mercenary, he put both hands around his victim’s neck until he cut off the little air that was still entering through that destroyed nose.

Only a gurgle was heard before the man let out his last breath with no possibility of defense – a head injury from the blows must have prevented movement in his extremities.

Zac smiled with the evilness present in his body. Everything had come to an end in the life of his aggressor. However, it didn’t seem to be the end for Zac because the anxiety, vengeance, and need for death, were still controlling him.

For him, it was just the beginning.

***

Zac sat bolt upright in bed.

He was breathing hard and worry overwhelmed his whole body.

He looked around; he was in his bedroom.

Honey, what’s wrong?

Dr. Emmaline Gilbert took his hand and looked at him with concern.

Zac couldn’t completely control his breathing and was having trouble ordering his thoughts.

Emmaline got up in a hurry and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. She gave it to him and took his pulse.

It was just a nightmare, Zac. You have to relax, you’re very upset.

Zac looked at her in confusion, as if he couldn’t quite remember who she was but at the same time, knew she was someone he could trust.

They sat in silence for a couple of minutes and Zac’s breathing would have worried any other human, but not the good doctor.

She waited with the patience and cool headedness her profession had armed her with after so many years working in emergency rooms and treating hundreds of patients in the hospital.

Emmaline Gilbert was a simple and dedicated woman. Passionate and happy. She had a serene and bright look that reminded Zac of the Irish countryside, and since he had seen her for the first time, it had been impossible to get her out of his head.

That time had been in the hospital, when Madison had been brought in in an emergency and Dr. Gilbert had been the doctor to help his newfound sister come out of the trance into which she had sunk after everything she had seen on coming into contact with their biological mother.

It had been a tough moment for Zac because he had refused to have new siblings; siblings moreover, with whom he shared special abilities. Maybe that was what led to him feeling so close to them, because he had never before been in touch with someone who had been hiding such an important secret as his.

The kind that made you feel like a freak your whole life.

Madison and Jack shared that with him and more. He had come to understand it after Madison’s accident.

And thanks to that, he had met Emmaline, with whom he had started a calm and safe relationship.

Dr. Gilbert stared at him.

He was still in bed, trying to organize his thoughts.

The memory of the day he met Emmaline helped him to relax a little.

I had an awful nightmare, he took Emma’s hand and realized that his own was hurting intensely around the knuckles, although there was no visible mark to explain the pain. He remembered the dream.

The anxiety.

The blows he had landed on the man and the moment in which he had strangled him.

He shuddered.

I’d like you to tell me. It was only a nightmare and if we talk about it, you’ll realize that everything is over and that nothing that’s in your head now is real.

Zac told her the dream in detail.

I killed him, Emma. The man was some diabolical thing, all deformed and bloody.

Of course, honey, that’s normal, taking into account all the head trauma you inflicted on him.

Zac snorted calmly and smiled.

Emma always used medical terms to explain things to others.

It’s true, darling, there’s no other way to put it, she continued. From what you’ve told me about the dream, the man you attacked would have been in shock, because of all the blows, she looked at him with doubt in her eyes. Where does so much anger come from, Zac? You’re not like that, and sometimes dreams are a reflection of our emotions.

He let a trace of confusion show.

It was true, he never suffered from those attacks of rage.

Well, not the wild ones, nor even those that could be considered ‘normal’. In general, he was not an angry man. Not even when he had found out that his late ex-girlfriend had been cheating on him.

Why was he now?

I don’t know, he replied to Emma thoughtfully, and she curled up into his arms. Lying down again in bed, Zac sighed deeply. It could be stress from work.

Did you eat someplace you shouldn’t have?

No. You know that would never happen.

Well, we’ll figure out what’s going on with you.

I hope so.

***

Jack was painting that morning as usual, in the living room of his impeccable loft in Soho. His abstinence from alcohol was going well and with each day that went by, he was trying to be the best version of himself.

Without the help of his beloved Zoe, none of this would have been possible – that much was clear. And now, that woman, whom he had thought he had hated deeply, was his friend, confidant, lover, everything; Zoe Mitchell was everything to him.

They led a quiet life, full of comforts because they both had good financial support from their families. However, neither of them took advantage of that.

Well, he had stopped doing it a while ago, thanks again to Zoe.

In contrast, she was a workaholic. She was like a queen ant capable of running a whole business effortlessly and amassing a fortune from her efforts as a star lawyer in the city.

After everything with Valerie’s case and how well Zoe had acted to leave him, as usual, in good standing before the law and society. The girl had gotten up on the podium with the stars of criminal law and she did not intend to get back down.

She loved her job and Jack loved watching her defend her clients tooth and nail. Of course, Zoe had the purest of values, therefore if she defended someone claiming they were innocent, it was because they were.

Of that there could be no doubt.

She had been locked in a cycle of accusations for not wanting to defend a man who had sworn his innocence, even though the evidence pointed towards his guilt.

She had held firm in her decision, loyal to her principles, despite being treated mercilessly by the media, and after months of trials and deliberations, that same media had publicly apologized to Zoe for having defamed her.

The man had been guilty. He had confessed in a moment of contrition that he hadn’t been able to take in the middle of the interrogation to which the prosecution had submitted him.

That had elevated Zoe to the position of most sought-after criminal lawyer in the city.

Jack could not have been prouder of her. He talked about it often with the girl's grandparents when they met at family dinners.

Zoe’s grandparents had been a little harsh with him at the beginning of their relationship. He didn’t blame them. Their little girl, whom they had raised with so much love and dedication when she had been left an orphan as a child, had set her sights on the city’s ‘bad boy’.

The same one who had been accused of murder shortly before they had announced their whirlwind romance to the world.

No, he couldn’t blame them. He would have done the same if his daughter had pulled something like that.

He smiled amusedly as he painted his latest masterpiece.

Some time ago, he only used to think about knockout blonds,