Liz Jasper - Underdead 02

by Underdead in Denial

  “Lenny was there to protect you.”

  “He— What?”

  “I asked Lenny to watch over you when I wasn’t with you.”

  “Oh my God. You have no idea what’s going on, do you? Natasha—”

  “Last spring you asked me not to use Natasha.”

  “You remember that?” Surprised, I looked up at him.

  “Of course.”

  An odd rush of warmth suffused me, dampening my anger. “Thank you.”

  He nodded tightly.

  I drew in a long breath and marshaled my scattering thoughts. It was a little like gathering dandelion fluff in a wind storm. “Lenny was there the night the set collapsed on Dan and me, and again the night I was nearly killed tripping over that fishing line.”

  “Of course he was. I sent him. I know he startled you when he went to help pull the plastic bag off you, but he was concerned you had gotten hurt. I have spoken to him about it. He came here Friday night to offer his apologies, and found you lying unconscious in front of your door.” Will’s voice had an odd note I couldn’t place.

  “Great,” I muttered, putting my head in my hands. I’d been so wrapped up in my conviction that Natasha would do anything to get rid of me that I’d fit the facts to my theory. Running from Arm Candy last night had nearly cost me my life. “I guess I owe Lenny an apology for chasing him over the railing tonight.”

  Will tipped back his head and laughed.

  “It’s not funny. I was scared.”

  With a soft rustle of clothing, Will moved in close and put his arms around me.

  “So was I. I nearly lost you last night.” He bent his head and brushed his lips across my ear. “Why didn’t you levitate?”

  He pulled the chopsticks from my hair and let them fall to the ground. The support pencil dug against my scalp against the weight of my hair. I disentangled it and Will buried his fingers in my hair as it cascaded down my back.

  I was having a hard time thinking. His light, teasing kisses had my nerve endings on fire. “I don’t… I wasn’t sure it would work.”

  He pulled back to look at me. And then he broke away. His hands dropped and he looked to the luminous full moon above us as if it had answers only he could see.

  He spoke, his voice so soft I could barely hear it. “I put you between worlds. Unguided. Unprotected.”

  He turned suddenly to face me. Too many emotions were on his face for me to sort through them all. Sorrow, excitement, regret. And something feral that made me step back a pace. “And I left you there. Because it suited my own needs.”

  His eyes locked on mine. The street faded away, leaving only the two of us. My body began to shake as if I’d been dipped in icy water and would never get warm again. Will moved closer, blocking even the cold comfort of moonlight.

  I was surrounded by black nothingness. His lips descended on mine and I pressed into to his warmth as if I would never feel it again. His arms wrapped around me, holding me as the terrible void closed in. His mouth slid across my cheek over the curve of my jaw to my neck. His tongue tasted the tiny, twin scars on my jugular.

  Just as suddenly as it had disappeared, the crisp night air with its faint tang of ocean rushed back with a deafening roar. “No. Will, please, don’t do this. I don’t want—”

  I made the mistake of looking at him. His face was beautiful in its terribleness. His incisors had grown into sharp points. Any trace of the man was gone.

  “Please, no. Don’t!”

  His teeth arced toward my neck. Without thinking, I tightened my fingers around the pencil in my hand and shoved it deep into his chest.

  A terrible cry rent the night air. Will released me and I tumbled backward, onto the sidewalk. His hands clutched wildly at the protruding bit of pencil as he collapsed onto the grass. For a terrible moment that lasted forever, he stared at me in hurt and surprise. And then he lay looking at nothing.

  “Will?” I fell to my knees beside him. “Will!”

  What had I done? I reached out a hand and touched Will’s soft black hair. Tears streamed down my face and dripped onto his. I brushed them off, my trembling fingers lingering over his cheekbones, his strong jaw. I barely registered the sound of footsteps running toward me.

  “Jo!”

  At the sound of my name, I jumped to my feet. Turning, I stepped in front of the hedge and held out my hands.

  “No,” I cried, as Gavin tried to get by me.

  “Jo, stop it!” He grabbed my arms and held me still. He looked around me. “Dammit! Where is he?”

  I whirled around. Will was gone. I sank onto the grass and reached a hand to the place where he had lain. Now only a handful of ash, already lost in the wet grass, remained. What had I done?

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. I had taken away his life, leaving behind a million tiny pieces that barely registered in the grass.

  Gavin reached out for me before I collapsed. “Shh. It’s okay, Jo. You’re safe.”

  “I killed him.”

  “No.” He pulled back and grasped my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. In them I saw sorrow, nearly to match mine. I realized it was for me. “Jo, he was already dead.”

  I tried to wrench away, but he held me tighter. “Listen to me. He was trying to turn you into something you don’t want to be. Think of your mother, your father. Your friends. All the people you love. Who love you. All that would have been lost to you.”

  “No, Will was…”

  “What was he doing right before you stabbed him?” Gavin asked softly. “Think.” He gave me a shake. “Remember!”

  I saw Will again as he’d been, distorted into a monster. I felt the cold, the void. My body shook and I buried my face in Gavin’s neck and sobbed as if I would never stop.

  “It’s all right. I’m here. I’ve got you now,” he said, holding me tightly.

  After a long while, Gavin peeled me gently off him. Keeping his arm tightly around my shoulders, he led me back toward my apartment. As we turned toward the mailboxes, life suddenly returned to my listless form. I dug in my heels.

  “What is it?”

  I cranked my head over my shoulder and stared at the empty parking space in front of my building. Will’s car was gone. Hope flared, lifting me briefly from my morass of sorrow, regret and guilt. And then it faded as quickly as it had come.

  “Nothing,” I said flatly. Arm Candy had probably valeted the Aston Martin home—wherever home was—like a good little underling.

  But I had to wonder. Didn’t I?

  *

  That night, I dreamed of Will. He was walking down a long flagstone hallway lit with golden spills of light at regular intervals by lantern-like wall sconces. At the end of the hall was an ornately carved wood door. Reaching it, he pushed it open and stepped into the room beyond.

  It was a decidedly masculine room, dominated on one side by a large four-poster bed made up with navy linens. In the adjacent sitting room, a fire crackled in the grate, casting a glow over the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, burnishing the leather covers and shades of gold and bronze.

  Will unbuckled his belt and tugged his black shirt free of his slacks. As it sometimes is with dreams, Natasha appeared next to him as if she’d been there all along. Her eyes were luminous with concern. She reached her perfectly manicured fingers toward him. “Here, let me help you.”

  “I’m fine.”

  His fierce tone stopped her hands before they could undo a single button and they fluttered uselessly to her sides. Her tawny brows drew together in a worried V, and she bit her lower lip to keep silent.

  Will continued undressing as if she weren’t there. Slowly and precisely, he unfastened his cuffs, first one and then the other. Button by button, he opened his shirt, revealing a beautifully proportioned torso with the sort of long, lean muscles that would make a sculptor long for a block of marble and a chisel. With a shrug of his shoulders, the shirt fell free of his body.

  Natasha sucked in a breath through her teeth. Or maybe t
he sound came from Will, as his fingers probed the puckering wound just to the left of his sternum.

  “She is as good as dead!” Natasha whirled and headed for the door.

  “No.”

  She turned back to face him, hands clenched, breast heaving with anger. “She tried to kill you! Even now, it is slow to heal. I demand retribution!”

  “No.” Blue eyes glittering like sapphires, he overrode her protest. “You are not to touch her.”

  “But—”

  “She is mine.” Suddenly, he turned to face me as if I were standing before him. His icy-hot gaze rocked through me like a thunderclap.

  I sat bolt upright in bed, wide-awake and panting with fear. With trembling hands, I flicked on my bedside table lamp. Its yellow glow cut through the darkness of the night, but offered little comfort. I found my bathrobe—yellow and fuzzy—pulled it on over my boxers and T-shirt. Shoving my feet into slippers, I opened my bedroom door and padded down the short hallway into the living room, reaching ahead and turning on lights as I went.

  I must have made more noise than I thought. Gavin was awake and standing by his makeshift bed on my couch, waiting for me. He had insisted on staying. I hadn’t asked if it was because he was worried about me, or that he thought, after coming so close to being turned again, I would complete the transformation during the night.

  I knew, if it happened, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill me.

  His short hair was rumpled, as were his clothes. The yawn he forced back spoke to his fatigue but his pale gray eyes were alert.

  “He’s alive.” I swallowed hard against the dryness of my throat. “I had a dream… It was so real.” My voice faded to a whimper.

  To his credit, Gavin neither dismissed my words nor offered platitudes. “Have you dreamt of Will before?”

  “After he first…” Bit me. Gavin nodded his understanding, so I didn’t have to say the words. “But not lately.”

  Not since last winter, when I’d first doused myself in holy water. It was then the dreams had stopped and the wound on my neck had begun to heal.

  “Tell me the dream.”

  I did, in fits and starts. When I finished, Gavin was silent a long time. Then he said, “You’re shivering.”

  I was. My teeth started chattering. In two steps, Gavin was around the side of the couch, pulling me into his arms. He held me in the circle of his warmth until I stopped shaking. He bent his head and I could feel his breath, warm against my temple. “How about some hot chocolate?”

  “It’s the middle of the night.”

  I could feel the laughter rumble in his chest. “Has that ever stopped you before?” He stepped back and gave me a little tug toward the kitchen. “C’mon. I’ll make it.”

  In no time, he had me settled at the kitchen table with its cheerful yellow cloth, covered in daisies. All the lights were blazing and the smell of chocolate filled the air as he spooned cocoa mix into two mugs and added hot milk.

  “There’s triple-chocolate cookies in the cookie jar,” I said.

  “Right.” He opened a cabinet and china clinked as he reached for a plate.

  “Just bring the jar,” I said impatiently.

  Gavin’s face lit suddenly in one of his rare, full smiles. The room brightened as if it were filled with sunbeams.

  “Somehow, Jo, I think you’re going to be just fine.”

  My body relaxed as if someone had cut the strings that were tangled inside me. All except for one—that one whistled and vibrated like a warning. My hand lifted from the table and moved toward my neck to make sure the adhesive bandage was covered by my robe. I caught myself just in time and redirected my fingers to the steaming mug Gavin held out to me.

  I gripped it tightly, fighting against the urge to check the damage Will had done to me before I’d pushed him away. I wondered for the hundredth time since I’d felt the prick of his teeth again on my neck, if he’d done enough this time to change me forever.

  I’m fine, I told myself fiercely. I forced myself to drink some chocolate. The hot, sweet liquid blazed through me, taking the last of the chill away. And as Gavin sat down across from me, as he always did—hand reaching for a cookie, long legs stretched into the kitchen—I let myself believe it.