by Cynthia Eden
Kim wasn’t standing in her doorway. She’d expected the intern, with the security tapes from the previous morning.
But the pretty brunette wasn’t staring back at her.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Holly snapped, her body jerking as if she’d been shocked.
And, yeah, she was pretty damn shocked.
Because seeing Dr. Zachariah Hall, blond hair perfectly slicked back, golden tan gleaming, blue eyes smiling at her—stunned her. He was the last person she’d expected—or wanted—to see.
The lips that had been tilted in a warm grin sagged a bit. “Holly…you aren’t still angry, are you?”
She growled. Finding her fiancé half-naked with his grad student hadn’t been one of her best moments. Or his. Jerk. “Uh, yeah, I am. And probably will be for the next, oh, twenty years.” Why the hell was the guy there? He’d tried calling her a few times after the breakup. She’d ignored him. Then, blessedly, he’d gone away.
Back to his classes and the nimble grad girls who would do anything for that A.
The smile was totally gone now. “I made a mistake. A onetime mistake.”
One time her ass. She snorted. “One time, twenty times,” which she believed more than the “one time” story. “You’re done in my book.”
He stepped toward her and closed the door behind him.
Her mouth dropped. “Uh, Zack, I’m not in the mood to talk to you—” Ever.
“I’m sorry I hurt you.” The words sounded sincere. His eyes looked sincere.
The apology was completely different from Niol’s. Very smooth and slick. Not at all awkward. Didn’t sound like the words had been dragged from him.
But she didn’t buy it, not for a minute.
And what about Niol’s apology?
Later.
“I’m sorry I wasted four months of my life on you. Guess we’re even.” Okay, that sounded like something a really cold bitch would say.
So call her cold.
And she’d always been a bit proud of being a bitch.
The faint lines around his eyes hardened. He wasn’t wearing his glasses today. Usually he saved those for his classes. She knew he thought they made him look scholarly, and he was all about the smart professor look.
Dr. Zachariah Hall was an associate professor in the biology department at Mellrune University in Atlanta. He spent his days lecturing to bleary-eyed students or writing really lame research papers.
And screwing students, too.
When she’d first met him, Holly had mistakenly believed the guy was a class act. Smart. Honest. Gentlemanly.
The wild spark she’d always longed for hadn’t ignited between them, but she’d figured she’d be able to live quite happily without that spark.
So she’d accepted his proposal over a lobster dinner one night, then found him having a hands-on experience with his student two months later.
Extra credit?
“I was scared, Holly.” Again, sounded sincere. Maybe it was. “I fell for you, hard and fast. I didn’t know what was happening to me, so I—”
She rolled her eyes. “So you decided to go down on another woman? Got you.” She did not have time for this drama. “Look, I don’t want to hear your explanations. I just don’t—” Care anymore.
Her breath caught.
Wow. That was true. She didn’t care. She rolled her shoulders and felt as if she’d just dropped a huge weight. “That was months ago, Zack. I’ve moved on and I hope you have, too.” Now she got to be the sincere one.
Less bitch. More—ah, what was she more of?
His perfectly chiseled jaw clenched. “You’re seeing someone else?”
Was she still seeing Niol? Even after his accusation?
What if it were true?
“I—”
Another knock at the door.
“Come in!” She would have welcomed just about anyone then, as long as she didn’t have to be in the room alone with good old Zack anymore.
Kim poked her head inside, and she was smiling. “You got a delivery.”
Not another one. Her stomach knotted.
The door swung open. The red roses spilled from the vase Kim carried, their lush scent tickling Holly’s nose.
She blinked. “Did you see who—”
“Oh, yeah.” Kim didn’t even seem to notice Zack. “Susie was at the front desk, but I caught a glimpse of him before the guy left. Real sexy, black hair, sunglasses—”
Zack cleared his throat.
Kim jumped. Okay, so she hadn’t noticed him.
Holly hurried forward and took the flowers. “Thanks, Kim.” The vase felt slightly chilled against her hands. Niol must have brought it right over from the florist’s.
Kim gave a little wave and ducked out of the room.
Holly carried the vase to her desk. There was a small white envelope nestled in between the bloodred flowers. Her fingers shook a bit when she reached for it.
She’d always been a sucker for red roses.
She opened the tiny envelope, pulled out the card.
“So there is somebody else.”
A bold black scrawl on the crisp card.
I’m a bastard, but you know that. But you don’t know what’s inside of you—waiting to come out. I do.
Let me show you, love.
Her fingers clenched around the card.
Demon.
Niol wouldn’t make a mistake like that. Everything she knew, every whisper of gossip she’d greedily caught all pointed to Niol being the strongest demon in the city.
He’d know if he was having sex with another of his kind.
I see you now.
Her eyes closed. Denial, yeah, option one.
But what if…what if?
He’d be able to show her a whole new world. A world she’d been desperate to see from the beginning, like a kid with her nose shoved up against a shop window.
“Glad you’ve found somebody.” Gritted. Not sincere. “I-I won’t take up any more of your time.”
She looked up just as Zack stormed out.
Holly had his flowers and his note, the next step would be hers. She could bid his ass good-bye or she could step up to the plate and learn what secrets she kept, locked inside.
“I want a background investigation done on Holly Storm,” he told the man before him. A short, dark-haired charmer. Charmers were always the best at ferreting out information from the unsuspecting. And Giles…the guy was damn good. An investigator for the Other, he made a fine living by bending and breaking the law whenever he could.
Giles narrowed his gray-gold eyes. “Why’s that name familiar to me?”
They were in Giles’s office, a freakishly clean business in the middle of downtown Atlanta.
“She’s a reporter for News Flash Five.” And so much more.
“You wanna know if the lady likes to play in the darkness?”
I’m here to play. “I already know that.” His fingers flattened on the desktop. “I want to know about her family, her lovers. I want to know about anything unusual that’s ever happened in Holly’s entire life. And I want to know yesterday.”
Because a new fear had begun to haunt him after he’d dropped off Holly’s flowers and then taken his time strolling around the station. No one had stopped him. Old Steve had sure given him a wide berth.
Holly was like him, Niol knew it. Even if she didn’t.
The impure will die.
Giles cocked his head. “It’s gonna cost you.”
“What else is new?”
“What am I looking for here, man? Point me to what you want—”
“Skeletons.” Demon skeletons. “Something tells me the lady has more than a few in her family tree.” They just had to knock ’em loose.
Holly was running late for her appointment. Again, dammit. If she wasn’t more careful, she’d start to get a bad reputation.
But before she’d left the station, she’d needed to follow up on the security tapes.
The follow-up had lead nowhere because the tapes were gone.
Not erased. Not unusable. Gone.
The guys at the security station had been rattled. The station owner had been alerted.
Someone was playing a game with News Flash Five.
With her.
More cameras would be installed. More guards hired. After the last bloodbath at the station, the higher-ups weren’t taking any chances.
So now, she was running fifteen minutes late for an appointment that she did not want to miss. The elevator chimed then the doors slid open and Holly hit the hall at a run.
A few moments later, she shoved open a gleaming wooden door, perfectly polished. Holly ignored the gold lettering and hurried inside, where she caught sight of the witch behind the desk.
And Vanessa really was a witch, or, at least Holly was about 90 percent sure she was. She’d caught the woman reading spell books the last time she’d been in the office and Holly was pretty sure she’d seen the redhead levitating her pen once or twice.
“Uh, sorry I’m late.” She hoped that didn’t merit being turned into a frog or something. With the Other, you just never knew. “Is…Dr. Drake still available?”
Vanessa raised her brow. “This is the second time—”
She winced. “I know. Sorry.”
The witch smiled. “Try not to make a habit of it, okay? She’s waiting on you.”
Holly exhaled. Great. Because she sure needed to talk to the Monster Doctor today. She hurried toward the doc’s inner sanctum.
“At least you don’t have a damn snake with you…”
Vanessa’s mutter had her hesitating with her hand over the knob. She glanced back. “Er, right.”
The door opened.
Dr. Emily Drake, known in the darker circles of Atlanta as the Monster Doctor, stood in the doorway. Her black hair was pulled back into her usual perfect bun. Her pretty features were calm, her green eyes curious behind the lenses of her glasses.
Looked like any other woman you’d meet in the city.
But Dr. Drake wasn’t any other woman. She had very, very special talents.
The lady only treated paranormal patients. Word on the street held that she could immediately sense any Other.
And she was heavily empathic.
No hiding from this therapist. Nope, no denial would ever work with her.
The doctor glanced at her watch. “Running behind, are we?”
“Seriously, you don’t want to hear about my day.” Demon heritage. Ex-fiancé from hell. Possible murderer/stalker.
Emily laughed and shut the door. “Oh, come on now, Holly, you know that’s what I’m here for—listening.” She motioned toward the couch and walked back to her desk. A small notebook lay in the middle of the wooden surface.
Holly crossed the room. The couch. Just looking at it made her nervous, and this was her sixth visit to the doctor’s office.
She’d originally come to see Dr. Drake because she’d been…desperate.
Carl had been the first to mention Emily’s name. The first to talk about just how the Monster Doctor had helped him.
She’d thought that maybe Emily could help her, too.
Holly hadn’t wanted to be helpless anymore. The world was full of beasts, predators—she got that. Both human and Other.
She never wanted to be as weak as she’d been in that alley. Not again. There had to be some way for her to protect her mind from those attacks. Some way…
And if anyone would know a way, Holly had figured it would be Dr. Drake.
So their sessions had started. Half-therapy, half-mind-shielding.
The weird thing—both parts were working.
Which was one of the reasons she hadn’t flipped out when she saw old Zack. Without Dr. Drake’s help, she would have tried to rip the guy a new one.
“I-I need to ask you some things.” Holly sat on the edge of the couch, feeling awkward. The first time she’d come into the office, she’d felt the same tension, but she’d bluffed her way through the forty-five minutes.
I know about the Other. She’d said that confidently. You don’t have to pretend with me.
Emily hadn’t spoken.
I know, and I’m here because I want to learn how to protect myself.
Emily had known about what happened in that godforsaken alley. Her lover, Detective Colin Gyth, had been on the scene within moments. Holly didn’t think there were many, if any, secrets between the cop and the good doctor.
The first time she’d come face-to-face with Emily, the knowledge of that dark night had been in the Monster Doctor’s eyes.
Emily had agreed to take her on as a patient. She’d started teaching her how to visualize shields for her mind—and to actually make those damn things work through a focused concentration that sometimes left Holly’s head aching and her heart racing.
And…more had developed in the sessions. Holly had found herself talking about Zack. Her parents.
Her brother.
Christ, the first time she’d talked about Peter, she’d bawled for an hour.
“You can ask me anything,” Emily said as she picked up her pen. “But keep in mind I’ll have my turn to ask questions, too.”
She always did. Sneaky questions that seemed easy enough to answer on the surface but were really designed to rip the scabs off all the old wounds Holly had locked inside.
She pulled in a deep breath of air. “Why—why did you originally agree to see me? You knew that I was a reporter, I could have just been scamming you—trying to get a story—”
“You’re not like that.” Instant response.
Those empathic powers? “You sure of that?”
A nod.
“Why did you see me?” Holly repeated. The answer was very, very important.
“You need me.” One shoulder lifted, then fell. “I don’t make a habit of turning away people who need me.”
Hell, yes, she’d needed the doctor’s help—so she would never be helpless again. But…“I’m not like the other patients you treat.” She’d only seen a few of them, passed them briefly in the hallway. Not the chatting type.
All of the others were paranormals, while she was—was—
Emily’s eyes narrowed behind her glasses. “I’m not sure I’m following you, Holly.”
“You treat Other, okay? And I’m not. I’m just—” Human.
Right?
Silence.
Then Emily put her pen down and licked her lips. “I think I’m a bit confused.”
Join the club.
“Holly, despite what you may have heard, I do treat some human patients.”
Freaking relief. Her hand pushed against her chest. “Right, right, of course—”
A slow shake of Dr. Drake’s dark head. “But, um, you know you’re not human, don’t you?”
Good thing she was sitting down. Emily had the distinct feeling her knees would have done a Jell-O routine and she would have wound up on the floor. “Run that by me again?” A squeak that wasn’t her normal voice.
Emily snatched up her pen and scribbled a quick note. “You didn’t know…”
“I still don’t know.” Okay, so Niol had told her. Dr. Drake was telling her, but—but—
Christ.
But how the hell could she have gone through her entire life without knowing she was Other?
“You don’t have much power, I’d probably label you as a one or two on the demon scale…”
Demon scale.
“But I knew from the first moment I met you, Holly, that you were Other.”
That hard thump—it wasn’t her heart. It was her world falling off its axis.
Chapter 9
Holly walked down the hallway in Mistro Tower, putting one foot doggedly in front of the other as Dr. Drake’s words rang in her head.
Haven’t you ever noticed that you heal faster than normal?
Okay, yeah, she had—but she’d chalked it up to being a fast healer. All of the
bruises and most of the cuts from the hit-and-run were almost gone now, and, yeah, in hindsight, she could see that was a bit, uh, too fast.
Haven’t you ever been aware of a thickening in the air around you? As if pressure is pushing on you?
Just when she’d been around Niol. But she’d thought that was his power.
Not hers.
Certain powerful instances or stressful situations may trigger the latent powers in you. An adrenaline surge—that could ratchet up the strength you have…
Maybe Niol brought out the inner demon in her.
Your parents—surely they knew. Didn’t they say anything to you?
Not a word about being a demon. Just the stay out of trouble and God, whatever you do, don’t take Peter’s path.
Peter. Her steps faltered. Had he been—
Her cell phone chimed. Fumbling, she yanked it out of her purse. “Storm—”
“Get down to the warehouse district.” Niol’s voice. Hard. Furious. “The bastard’s killed again.”
No. Not another slaughtered victim. “How do you know? Niol—”
“Sources, love. I’ve got ’em, too.”
The call ended with a click.
Another dead demon.
Swallowing, she punched in the speed-dial button she’d assigned for her cameraman.
Ben met her at the scene. It would have been hard to miss the place—it was the only building in the old warehouse sector that was surrounded by cops, swirling blue lights, and yellow police tape.
Strangely, though, no other reporters were on scene. Yet, anyway.
A long whistle from her side. “What the hell did you find, Holly?” Ben asked.
Death.
She caught sight of Gyth’s dark head as he stalked toward one of the cruisers. Her eyes narrowed. “Ben, start filming the scene.” Straightening her shoulders, she headed for that parked car.
“Where you goin’?”
She glanced back.
The brim of his cap shielded his eyes. “Oh, no, Holly, that guy is not gonna talk to you. Hell, even I know he hates you.”
“Hate is a very strong word,” she muttered. Her palms were sweating. Her back itching. Gyth looked up right then and instantly his gaze zeroed in on her.
Maybe it wasn’t too strong.
“Get the scene,” she repeated. “I’ll get the cop.” Or try.