Touch Me Not

by Julie Kistler

  Stuck in his bed, too weak to do more than lie there and stare at the ceiling, he was at his housekeeper’s mercy. “I couldn’t have known how it would turn out,” he muttered. Who knew that a kiss would pack more of a punch than hand-to-hand combat with thugs in an alley?

  Casting an aggrieved glance at Mrs. Fitzhugh, Luke slapped on earphones and drowned her out with Chopin turned very low. But even so, he still had to see her glowering face, and he knew she was thinking it even if she wasn’t saying it.

  Meanwhile, his brain was a jumble of Minotaurs and emotional minefields. He had solved neither the problem of his strange supersharp senses nor the problem of his growing feelings for Gilly.

  But there was nothing to be done about either. Without ESP, which unfortunately had not come with the package of senses he acquired in the labyrinth, he had no idea how to fix his nervous system run wild. Exerting steely self-control seemed to work somewhat, but not completely.

  As debilitated as he was at this moment, it was obvious his attempt at meditation and mind over matter was not what you’d call a success.

  And as for the other problem, well…no matter what he felt for Gilly, he couldn’t act on it. If he so much as kissed her or held her, he would explode from overstimulation. Yesterday’s debacle made that clear.

  “I need a nursemaid, not a lover,” he whispered. It was a sobering thought.

  “What you need is a nice cup of tea,” Mrs. Fitz said soothingly, placing a tray of tea and cookies on the bed.

  What he had, no amount of tea was going to fix. He sat up, yanking off his earphones and shoving the tray aside, sloshing hot liquid into the saucer. “Bring me a phone, will you, Mrs. Fitz? I need to check on Gilly.”

  “Not that again,” she cried, making his ears ache. “Mr. Fitz told you she was fine. That neighbor of hers, Mrs. Musselman or whatever, called this morning to report that she and some man, Mr. Zapata or something, had given Gilly a ride to school and she’d arrived safely. And Mrs. Dayton, the assistant principal at the academy, checked in around noon, and she also reported that Gilly was accounted for. We have our system of checkpoints all set up, Mr. Lucas, and it’s working fine. There’s no reason for you to concern yourself personally.”

  “Noon was five hours ago. I just want to be sure she’s okay.” He lowered his gaze, mumbling, “And I need to apologize.”

  “Apologize? You?” Mrs. Fitzhugh’s eyebrows shot up so far she looked like she was going to have to retrieve them from the top of her neat little bun. “Well, I never.”

  “May I have the phone please?”

  She went and got it, but she handed it over with a warning. “Don’t talk too long. You need to conserve your strength.”

  “And what exactly am I conserving it for?” he returned as she left the room.

  Damn invalid. He could store up all the good behavior points from here to the North Pole and it wouldn’t do him any good. He still wouldn’t be able to make love to a woman until he was in his dotage.

  Oh, I could do it all right, he thought. If I wanted the top of my head to blow off.

  He turned on the cellular phone and dialed her home number, figuring she should’ve been home from school hours ago. But it rang and rang, with no answer.

  He buzzed his silent alarm to get Mrs. Fitz back up there. “What’s her neighbor’s number?” he demanded.

  “The Marchmane woman?” She pulled a small spiral notebook out of her apron pocket. “Here it is. She’s the first one on the list under Operation Gillian Watch.”

  Luke raised an eyebrow. “Operation Gillian Watch?”

  “I had to call it something, didn’t I?” His housekeeper scooted the tea tray back under his nose. “That Mrs. Minniver is the first one.”

  “It’s Mooshman,” he told her, “as you well know.” He dialed while she eavesdropped shamelessly. He did his best to make it a quick call, but Mrs. Mooshman was quite chatty. Finally he hung up and relaxed against the pillows. “Very chatty. And very loud.”

  “And what did she have to say?”

  “That Gilly rarely gets home from work before six.” He handed Mrs. Fitz the tray and motioned for her to leave. “She gave me the number at school, so I’m going to call her there.”

  Luke waited until Abigail had cleared the doorway and he was sure she wasn’t hovering outside in the hall. At least pinpoint hearing was good for something.

  Gilly picked up the phone on the second ring. “Ms. Quinn,” she said wearily.

  “Gilly, it’s Luke.”

  There was a pause. “I should hang up on you after what you did to me yesterday.”

  “I’m sorry. I was…ill.”

  “That’s what Uncle Fitz told me. Convenient. Besides, it’s hardly comforting to hear that kissing me made you sick.”

  “It wasn’t kissing you,” he lied. “It’s…whatever it is I’ve been dealing with the past few weeks. Like a virus or something.”

  “Great, and you gave it to me.”

  He had never heard Gilly sound so cool, so testy. Sure, she’d been angry with him before, but it usually blew over quickly. And her anger had never had this cold, hard, final quality to it Luckily she let in a glimmer of hope with her next words.

  “Well, you do sound terrible,” she allowed.

  Was that sympathy he detected? He grinned. “I said I was sorry, Gilly, I tried to tell you I shouldn’t leave the house, but you pushed me.”

  “Oh, so now this is my fault. Luke, you’re unbelievable!”

  Spitting-mad Gilly he could deal with. “You do have to take part of the blame,” he said, enjoying the steam he could hear rising from the other end of the phone.

  “Me? Was I the one who left you in the lurch without a word of explanation in an empty museum at the crack of dawn with no ride and no coat?”

  That qualified as steam, all right. He felt much better to be on familiar turf again. If they were fighting, they were still friends, and back on secure footing. For a moment he could pretend that the kiss and its aftermath had never happened.

  “I sent the car back, so you had a ride,” he argued. “And who expected you to take off on foot without a coat? You could’ve waited.”

  “Oh, forget it,” she snapped. “You’re impossible. Listen, I have work to do. What are you doing calling me at school, anyway? I’m busy.”

  “Sounds pretty quiet”

  “Of course it’s quiet. I’m the only one here.”

  No, you’re not. She couldn’t hear it, but he could. Even over the telephone wires, the sound of rushed breath and stealthy footsteps came across clear as a bell.

  “Are you sure there’s no one else there?”

  “Of course I’m sure. There’s a basketball game over at Luther North tonight It’s the regional final or something important, and everybody is there. I’m the only one here.”

  So why did he sense danger so near to her? He couldn’t have said how he knew or why his strange skills worked this way, but where Gilly was concerned, his powers of discernment were uncanny, unparalleled.

  Luke concentrated, picturing Gilly sitting at her desk in the middle of the Benedict Academy. He pulled together every ounce of his sensory ability and focused on Gilly. He smelled erasers, floor wax, dusty rooms. He sensed her heartbeat, her familiar lavender scent. And the threat of someone just outside her office.

  “Gilly, lock your door and stay in your office,” he said hurriedly.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I could hear someone in the hallway while we were talking. Loud footsteps,” he lied. “Didn’t you hear them?”

  “It’s probably just the janitor,” she said. But he could hear the edge of uncertainty in her voice. “Listen, Luke, I have to go.”

  “Lock the door and stay where you are.”

  “Luke, I’m at St. Benny’s,” she protested. “In other words, a safe haven. No one would try anything here.”

  Was she really that naive or just pretending?

  “I’
ll just go see what the noise is and call you right back, okay?”

  “No, don’t hang up!”

  “Okay. I’ll leave the phone right here and you can listen.”

  He didn’t tell her he didn’t need the damn telephone to listen. She was already gone. Damn. Luke threw the phone across the room, creating a loud crash that echoed in his brain. “Damn her, anyway. She’s probably doing it on purpose because she thinks Nightshade will show up. It didn’t work the last time, either, Gilly. I could hear you perfectly, but I was in no condition to get there.”

  Unfortunately he was still just as incapacitated. Frustration burned in him. But he reached for his buzzer.

  “Fitz, get up here!” he yelled, paying no attention to the damage he was doing his ears. When Fitz entered the room seconds later, Luke said, “Nightshade has to make an appearance and I can’t get there. So you’ll have to go. Put on the coat and the hat and the sunglasses, and even if she sees you, she won’t know the difference.”

  “What?”

  “Just do it,” he ordered. “The coat and the hat are on the other side of my closet. Go get them now. Come on, man, we don’t have time to stand around. Gilly’s at the school and some maniac is breathing down her neck.”

  “You’re sure about this, sir?”

  He could feel the adrenaline rush already starting to sap him, and he slumped into his pillows. But he could still smell Gilly’s lavender shampoo, still hear the sound of her pursuer’s rushed breathing. “Just do it. And give me back the phone, will you?”

  GILLY’S INTERNAL ALARMS were ringing like crazy. Luke was right; even if she hadn’t heard the footsteps, she knew there was someone out in the hall.

  Her heart beat a shade faster as she turned the knob and slowly eased the door open. She edged out carefully. But the hall was quiet and dark, just an endless series of closed lockers and doors. She heard an ominous creak and she whirled, but it was just the old pipes in the place, squeaking as the furnace kicked in.

  She breathed out a sigh of relief, setting a hand over her heart to stop its racing. And that was when the hand grabbed her.

  She fought it, but her assailant shoved a rag in her mouth and she began to gag. His other arm circled her neck, dragging her backward, choking her.

  She sagged as much as possible to make herself a dead weight and dug in her heels.

  “Cut the crap, lady,” the vicious voice snarled in her ear. “Ain’t nothin’ gonna happen to you. This time.”

  She tried to cry out, to ask who he was or what he wanted, but she couldn’t get any words past the gag.

  He chuckled and leaned closer, and she could feel the hot puffs of his breath ruffle her hair. “But you be sure and call the police to report this, y’hear? And you be sure and tell that cute little blondie reporter friend of yours, because we like seeing stories about us in the paper.”

  He tightened his grip on her neck as he yanked open the door of the janitor’s closet. Gilly could smell the mop bucket and the acrid scent of cleaning supplies.

  “This is just a friendly warning. Maybe you shouldn’t oughtta be such a do-gooder, huh? Maybe a lower profile for you would be a damn fine idea.”

  And then he shoved her, hard, into the closet and slammed the door shut.

  The first thing she did was rip the rag out of her mouth and throw it on the floor, kicking it into the far reaches of the closet “Hey!” she cried, pounding on the door. “Let me out of here!”

  But there was no one to hear her. No one but Nightshade.

  “You didn’t come the last time,” she whispered. “I called and you didn’t come. But what have I got to lose?”

  She took a deep breath, gathered all her vocal power and screamed, “Nightshade!” at the top of her lungs. As if by magic, the door swung open. She raced out, ready to greet her rescuer, but all she caught was a glimpse of the black flap of his coat as he cleared the front door.

  “Damn!” she swore. “He disappeared again.”

  She raised both hands to her face, pushing her hair back, wishing she could block out what had just happened.

  “And it happened at St. Benny’s.” That was the worst. The safe haven for the whole neighborhood had been violated. Then she remembered she’d left Luke hanging on the phone, and she raced back into her office to fill him in.

  “Some creep threw me in the janitor’s closet, just so I’d call the police or something,” she told Luke, her voice a mix of fear and relief. “I really didn’t understand any of it. But the important thing is that Nightshade showed up to save me, just like I told you he would.”

  “So you think your plan worked?” Luke asked icily.

  “Not exactly. I mean, Nightshade didn’t stick around or leave any calling cards or anything.” Her confidence and good humor were returning now that she was free of her attacker. “So I guess he remains a mystery.”

  “Surely you’re not going to hang around dark alleys or whatever insane plan you have in mind just to see him again.” Luke’s voice was ragged and low, but she could hear the thread of fury in it. “This little escapade ought to have demonstrated that you can’t put yourself in that sort of situation.”

  “Nothing happened,” Gilly assured him. “Except that I got locked in a closet for about a second and a half.”

  “Gilly, give it up.”

  “No,” she told him firmly. “I have to see him again.”

  If Luke had said anything about that kiss they’d shared, if she hadn’t been so wounded by the way he’d just taken off, she might have listened. But not this way. Not this time.

  She could hear the depth of his sigh over the receiver. “Listen, I have to go,” he said softly. “Fitz just got back from an errand I sent him on and I want to know how it turned out.” There was a pause. “Do you have a ride home? I can send Fitz for you.”

  “I don’t need you sending Uncle Fitz for me,” she said smartly. “As it happens, Mr. Zamechnik and Mrs. Mooshman are on NOD Squad patrol tonight, and they offered to come by and pick me up around six. I’ll be perfectly safe.”

  “You’d better be.”

  “Good night, Luke.”

  As she dropped the receiver into the cradle, she pondered what that was all about. All these years she’d thought she understood Luke Blackthorn perfectly. But these days he kept throwing her curve after curve.

  “Either I never understood him in the first place, or he changed completely in that damn cave.” She propped her chin on one hand and stared into space. “I wonder what really happened down there. I wonder if he’ll ever tell me.”

  Just then the phone rang under her hand. “Hello?”

  “Ms. Quinn, this is Devon Drake. I just got an anonymous tip that you were attacked and held captive tonight at your school. What can you tell me?” “News travels fast,” Gilly said under her breath. “Well, listen, Ms. Drake, it’s like this…”

  Chapter Ten

  “All I really did was open the door, sir,” Fitz reported dutifully. He had taken off the sunglasses and the scarf, but he was still wearing the coat and the fedora. Since Luke wore protective padding under the coat, making him look broader and bulkier, Fitz at his natural unpadded size was a good match for Nightshade. “I attempted to follow the perpetrator, but he eluded me, sir.”

  “Damn. I wish I knew what this was all about. Do you think it’s really just that West Riverside is going to hell in a handbasket?” Luke set his jaw. “Or does somebody have something specific against Gilly?”

  “The neighborhood does seem to be getting worse, sir.” Fitz mopped his florid brow with a handkerchief. “I’ve been following it in the newspapers, and there do seem to be more muggings and robberies than usual. But this tonight…well, sir, I do wonder if Gilly hasn’t stepped in it—you should pardon the expression, sir—with this anti-casino stance she’s adopted.”

  “That’s what I thought. A little creative criminal activity to make West Riverside look like the perfect place to tear down,” Luke said softly. “
And to scare Gilly into shutting up. Except they don’t know Gilly very well if they think that’ll do any good.” He would’ve laughed if it didn’t hurt so much.

  “Exactly, sir.”

  “Which means we’d better keep up Operation Gillian Watch.” Luke cast a sly glance at Abigail. “That is what we’re calling it, isn’t it, Mrs. Fitz?”

  “Yes, it is, Mr. Lucas, as you well know,” she said stiffly.

  “All right, then. You go back on the watch, Fitz, and let me know if anything unusual happens: I,” he noted uncomfortably, “am going to try to get some sleep.”

  “A very good idea, Mr. Lucas.” Abigail fluffed his pillows and tucked him in while he glowered at her. He didn’t need to be treated like a three-year-old. Come to think of it, he hadn’t been cosseted like this even when he was three. “We’ll see you in the morning, sir,” she crooned.

  In the morning. If all hell hadn’t broken loose by then.

  THERE WAS NO CLOCK in his room, but Luke could tell by the amount of light seeping in around his heavy curtains that it was well past morning.

  “I must’ve slept a whole night and day away,” he mumbled. He’d never been a big sleeper, and this had to be a personal record of some kind. He should’ve been groggy or achy, but he wasn’t. In fact, he felt better than he had in days.

  He sat up, blinking. The room was dim and quiet; no errant noises from outside assaulted his ears. He popped out his earplugs. He could pick up more, but nothing terribly invasive.

  “Maybe sleep is the answer,” he said doubtfully, flexing one leg tentatively. No answering shriek of muscle against bone against nerve. He stood up, took a few strong strides. No pain. He really was better.

  A few hours in the sensory-deprivation tank, and he’d be good as new.

  “I thought I heard you up and about,” Mrs. Fitz said, nudging open the door with her hip as she brought in a breakfast tray. “Feeling better, are we?”

  “Your hearing is better than mine,” he said dryly. “What time is it, anyway?”

  “Almost nine.”

  “P.m.?”