by Kate Serine
He sent a perplexed frown my way. “No. Can’t say that I have.”
I shuddered again. “Yeah, well, it isn’t pretty. If you had seen what I had, you would’ve been frightened, too.”
We sat in silence for a long moment before he said, “Sorry. I didn’t know about that.”
I glanced over at him, pegging him with a pointed look. “Well, I’m sure there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
“I probably know more than you think.”
Part of me wanted to test that theory, but I wasn’t quite ready to break into a rousing rendition of “Getting to Know You”—especially where I was concerned. Before he could ask any potentially uncomfortable questions, I said, “Thank you, by the way. For saving me tonight. Twice.”
“What the hell was goin’ on at your apartment anyway?” he asked, turning off the main street and driving through a set of electrified gates that opened onto a long, winding driveway lined with trees.
I hugged myself, remembering that horrible face. “I don’t know.”
“Was it one of the vampires from earlier?” Nicky probed. “Was one of them coming after you?”
I shook my head. “No, it wasn’t one of those women. Nate took their souls.”
“Did you recognize the ghost at all?” he pressed, his voice taking on a harsh edge of urgency.
“No.”
“Maybe a dame you busted who wants to take you down?”
“No.”
“Are you sure? I mean—”
“I don’t know, okay?” I yelled. “I have no freaking clue who that woman was or why she was trying to scare the shit out of me! What part of that do you not understand, for chrissake?”
Nicky let out a long sigh as he came around the final bend in the drive and pulled up in front of a sprawling two-story mansion with a beige stone facade. I blinked in disbelief.
“This is your house,” I murmured. There was no way I could mistake the place, not after what I’d seen there.
He put the Escalade in park and sat staring at the front door for a long moment, a far-off expression on his face. I studied his angular profile, watching his attempt to control the emotions that played across his face. When he finally spoke, his voice was tense with barely restrained rage. “Yeah, well, as it turns out I got plenty of room.”
Instinctively, I reached out and touched his arm, feeling the tension in his muscles through his sweater. “Nicky . . .” My voice trailed off.
I wasn’t sure what I’d intended to say. There wasn’t anything I could say to take away the horrors of the night Juliet died. I didn’t have to imagine how it had happened. I’d seen it all in Nicky’s eyes when he’d thought he was dying: They’d fought earlier that night—Juliet hadn’t been happy to see Red at the party—and was even less thrilled to find out Nicky had brought his former flame to stay at their home. But he’d charmed his wife back into good spirits on the car ride home, and when they opened the door they were chatting about the party they’d just come from, complaining that the music had been too loud, the conversation too dull.
But then it all happened so fast. . . . Red screaming, Nicky shooting at the beast coming at him, Juliet getting knocked to the floor so hard by the beast that her skull shattered, splattering her gray matter all over the foyer floor. . . .
Nicky’s arm trembled ever so slightly beneath my fingertips, but when he turned to me, he forced a cockeyed grin and winked. “Come on, doll, let’s get you inside.”
I coaxed Sasha out of the backseat and into my arms before following Nicky into the house. As soon as I stepped into the foyer, my own images of walking in that night and seeing Nicky lying on the floor, bleeding out quicker than his almost indestructible Tale body could heal itself, made me shiver. Sasha yowled in protest and hopped from my arms to go explore her new surroundings.
“Sorry!” I called over my shoulder as I took off after her. “I’ll catch her before she gets into anything!”
I heard Nicky calling my name, telling me not to worry about it, but the last thing I needed was my cat peeing on Nicky’s carpet or clawing up his curtains. I was already imposing enough as it was.
Sasha shot up the stairs like a bat out of hell. I tried to follow, but my clunky snow boots were making pursuit difficult and I quickly fell behind. “Damn it, Sasha! Come back here!”
I finally made the landing and pulled off my boots, tossing them aside. I caught a glimpse of her shooting into one of the bedrooms and ran down the hall after her. When I reached the room, I flipped on the light and gasped, wondering if I’d just stepped back in time. The room was the size of my entire apartment and decked out with heavy wooden furniture and opulent crimson and gold brocade. In the center of the ceiling hung an intricately designed gilded chandelier that looked like it belonged in an Italian palace, not a mansion along Chicago’s North Shore.
I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and turned my head just in time to catch a glimpse of a woman hurrying into an adjacent room. Thinking Nicky must’ve already started replacing his staff since returning to town, I hurried after her. “Excuse me!” I called. “I’m looking for my cat. Have you seen—”
I was surprised to find myself standing in a massive closet nearly the size of the bedroom. Alone. I turned in a slow circle, looking for another door where the maid might’ve exited before I came in, but there was only the one way in or out. The closet was filled with
beautiful—and expensive—clothes, some with the tags from Saks and Burberry still attached. Blouses, jackets, skirts . . . and enough shoes to make Kim Kardashian green with envy. Oddly, though, everything in the closet belonged to a woman. There wasn’t even the slightest indication of a male presence. This had been Juliet’s room, I guessed—and Juliet’s room alone.
“Trish?”
I gave a little yelp, nearly jumping out of my skin. I whirled around, grasping my chest, where my heart felt like it was about to burst out, and let loose a vivid tirade of curse words that was positively inspired.
Nicky held his arms out, crouching a little as if he expected me to attack him. “Whoa, whoa—it’s just me.”
“I saw a woman come in here,” I barked at him. “Where the hell did she go?”
He shook his head. “There’s no one else here, honey. It’s just you and me.”
I glanced around the closet again, searching the racks of clothing still hanging in neatly color-coordinated sections, fully expecting to see someone peeking out from between cocktail dresses or silk blouses. “B-but . . . I swear I saw someone. . . .”
Nicky came to me and took hold of my shoulders. “There’s no one here,” he assured me, enunciating each word as his gaze locked with mine. “Just you. And me.”
I felt a little tug between us, that initial hitch that told me a connection was starting. But it was different from anything I’d felt before. Instead of originating deep inside my psyche, this one started in the center of my chest, pulling me closer to Nicky. Perplexed by the new sensation, I tried to resist, but it jerked me back with a sharp tug, making me stumble forward and right into his arms.
“Oh, God,” I mumbled, clumsily trying to extricate myself from his hold. “I’m so sorry.”
He chuckled. “Forget about it,” he said with a shrug. “I thought maybe you were just taking me up on my offer.”
I frowned up at him. “Your offer?”
He hit me with that grin of his and spread his arms wide, gesturing toward himself with his hands. “Throwing yourself into my arms?”
I rolled my eyes, trying my damnedest not to blush to the roots of my hair but probably failing miserably. “Oh, that offer.”
He chuckled, bringing a sleepy smile to my lips as I tried to stifle a yawn. “I think it’s time you got some sleep,” he said, putting an arm around my shoulders and leading me out to the bedroom. “It’s been one hell of a night.”
The presence of his arm around my shoulders and the warmth of his body so close to mine was making it hard to conc
entrate—and breathe—so the best I could manage in response was a slight nod.
“Feel free to help yourself to some of Juliet’s clothes,” he said, gesturing absently toward the heavy dresser against the wall. “You’re about the same size she was, so you should be able to find something. You’ve got to be freezing in those wet pajamas.”
Oh, not as much as you might think. . . .
I snuggled into his hold ever so slightly, and to my surprise his arm tightened, curling me into him for a brief hug before he released me. “As soon as you change, I’ll show you to one of the guest rooms. I never liked this room much.”
I glanced up at him, wondering what about this room he disliked, but his expression had gone dark. Asking any questions was clearly not an option.
After watching him leave the room and close the door, I set about finding something warm and dry to put on. I had to shake my head at Nicky’s proclamation that I was pretty much the same size as Juliet. She’d been five foot eight and all legs. And I was . . . well . . . not. I managed to find a pair of yoga pants that had probably been capris on Juliet and so luckily didn’t drag the ground when I pulled them on. Finding a shirt, on the other hand, proved to be more of a challenge. I pulled out several cotton baby-doll shirts that were so tiny I quickly tossed them aside.
“Good lord,” I grumbled, “didn’t this woman have any boobs? Criminy! What grown woman wears an extra small anything?”
I finally found a plain pink T-shirt that had probably been Juliet’s kicking around shirt for those days when she was feeling a little bloaty and didn’t want to wear her clothing as a second skin. It fit me well enough, accentuating my hourglass curves without looking like it’d been painted on.
I took a look at myself in the mirror. The outfit didn’t scream Do me now, Nicky, but at least I wasn’t soaking wet anymore. But, dear God, my hair was a train wreck. I quickly ran my hands through my ringlets a few times, trying to smooth them a little, but it didn’t do a lot of good. I finally huffed and threw my hands up in despair. Oh, well. What the hell did it matter? He’d already seen me at my most disheveled and hadn’t run away screaming in horror.
Nicky was leaning against the wall when I came out of the room, and when he looked up and met my gaze I felt that odd little tug again and gasped. His intense amber eyes took me in at a glance, and an emotion I couldn’t quite place passed across his face.
Great.
Seeing me in Juliet’s clothes had to be stirring up all kinds of emotions he’d been trying to bury down deep these last couple of years. Awesome.
“Feel better?” he asked, his smile strained.
“Just exhausted,” I admitted.
“How’s the arm?”
I glanced down at it, surprised to find it wasn’t throbbing any longer. “Uh . . . fine, actually.” I quickly unwrapped it and rotated my wrist, testing the joint. It was completely healed without even a lingering ache. “Weird. There’s no way it should’ve healed that fast.”
“Of all the crazy shit that’s gone down tonight,” Nicky drawled, “I’d say your wrist healing faster than usual rates pretty low.”
I stifled another yawn. “Point taken.”
He jerked his head toward the end of the hall. “Come on, it looks like you’re ready to drop. Let’s get you all tucked in.”
Was he serious? He was actually going to tuck me in?
I didn’t even bother taking a look around the room Nicky led me to. I was so freaking tired I wouldn’t have cared if the bed was made of nails as long as I had a place to catch a few hours of sleep.
As soon as I climbed in, he pulled the sheet and duvet up over my chest. “There’s a bathroom across the way,” he said. “And I’m down the hall if you need me. Third door on the left.”
I had a million questions I wanted to ask Nicky—not the least of which was what he’d found out about Dracula’s whereabouts and what he planned to do to take him out. But work would have to wait. The only question I could form coherently suddenly seemed much more imperative. “Why didn’t you share a room with Juliet?” I asked around a yawn, sleep deprivation affecting my ability to keep my curiosity in check.
“She needed her own space.” He made a noise that was something between a grunt and a laugh. “Can you imagine? In a house this size?”
“I can’t imagine ever wanting to spend the night away from you,” I muttered, sleep descending quickly.
I closed my eyes and curled onto my side, reaching blindly to pull the duvet up under my chin and finding Nicky’s hand instead. My heart gave a little hitch at the contact and I knew I probably should’ve pulled my hand away, but my eyelids were too heavy to open, my limbs too heavy to move.
To my surprise, Nicky’s fingers curled around mine. I felt him smooth my hair with his free hand, then twist one of my ringlets around his finger, letting the hair slide across his skin as he released the curl. And just as sleep rose to claim me, he pressed a chaste kiss to my temple and whispered, “Only sweet dreams tonight, doll.”
Chapter Six
The dream always started the same. I was sitting on the little stone bench in my parents’ garden, my black patent leather shoes gleaming, my pale blue pinafore pristine and crisp. I was swinging my feet and humming cheerily while eating my breakfast—porridge, not the curds and whey mentioned in my nursery rhyme—when a particularly intricate and beautiful spiderweb nestled among the rosebushes caught my eye. I set aside my bowl and hopped down to go investigate. The dew from the cool spring morning still clung to the gossamer threads, glistening in the sunshine. I was grinning, delighted with my find, as I leaned closer.
I didn’t even see the spider until it was right before my eyes. It was an enormous, fat, furry black spider the size of my fist. I’d heard of these monstrous arachnids, the kind witches in Make Believe used in their potions, but I’d never seen one. My childish curiosity urged me to take a closer look, so I bent forward until my nose nearly touched the web.
And then it happened. My eyes locked with the spider’s—hollow and black, infinitely deep, impossibly dark—and I felt a little tug in the center of my brain, a quick jerk deep inside my head. And then I saw. A barrage of graphic and gory images assaulted my mind, filling it until it overflowed, engulfing me, dragging me down, down, down into the darkness. . . .
I jolted awake, shivering violently, my clothes soaked with sweat. I threw back the covers and lunged from the bed, but my limbs were weak with terror and wouldn’t hold me, and I crumpled to the floor. On my hands and knees, I scurried to the corner of the room and pressed myself into it, my chest heaving with hysterical sobs. I squeezed my eyes shut and put a hand over my mouth, muffling the sound.
Control the fear, Beatrice. . . .
I nodded quickly. Yes. Yes. Control the fear. Had to control the fear. I couldn’t let it take me again. Not like before. I’d never go to that place again.
I took several slow, shaky breaths and muttered aloud the Fibonacci sequence to force my mind away from the remembrance of the horrors I’d experienced that day and focus it on something else. I don’t know how long I sat there, trying to bring my shattered psyche back together, but eventually my pulse slowed to an almost normal rate and my shivering began to subside.
“It’s okay, Trish,” I whispered. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay. You’re fine now.”
And a few moments later, I slid up the wall until I was standing and tested my legs to make sure they would carry me back to the bed, but once I was there, I couldn’t bring myself to climb back in. There was really no point. I knew from experience that there was no possibility of getting any sleep once the dream had come.
As quietly as possible, I slipped from the room, glancing down the hall to where Nicky had said his bedroom was. The door was wide open, the room completely dark. The house was still, but I heard no sounds of sleep coming from his room. Curious, I crept down the hall and peeked in. The bed was still made, obviously not having been slept in. I frowned a little, wonder
ing where he might have gone.
Shivering again now, but this time from the sweat-soaked clothes I wore and not from sheer terror, I made my way back to Juliet’s room and managed to locate a luxurious pink bathrobe hanging on the inside of the closet door. I stripped out of the workout clothes down to my panties, then pulled the bathrobe on, tying it loosely around my waist before making my way downstairs. I had to wander down a few halls and recover from a couple of wrong turns that led me to a laundry room and then what appeared to be a game room before I finally managed to find Nicky’s kitchen.
The kitchen was much easier to navigate. I had no trouble locating a saucepan and the supplies I needed to make some hot
chocolate—the final step in my recovery ritual on the nights the dream came. I was just turning off the burner and setting the pan aside to find a coffee mug when a soft shuffle behind me brought me around with a gasp.
My shoulders sagged with relief when I saw that the noise was not from a ghost intent on terrorizing me or a massive spider whose horrifying memories of murdering her victims were going to send me spiraling once more toward insanity. “There you are!” I said with a chuckle. “Where the hell have you been?”
Sasha padded toward me, her answering meow carrying a hint of admonishment.
“Hey,” I shot back, “I’m not the one who ran off. You should’ve stuck around.” She sat down directly in front of me, her tail twitching back and forth lazily, then gave me an expectant look.
With a sigh, I rummaged through the cupboards until I found a small bowl, then poured a little milk into it. “There you go, you spoiled brat,” I muttered with an affectionate grin, squatting down to set it on the floor in front of her. I scratched her ears for a moment while she lapped at the milk, glad to see that she seemed unaffected by our ordeal at the apartment. I was still grinning when I rose to my feet.
“Can’t sleep?”
This time I started with a ridiculously girlie yelp that sent Sasha racing out of the room again. “Damn it!”