Reign vanished and a man entered the room.
“What the—” He skidded to a halt. “What are you doing in here?”
Alexis pulled out her badge. “Detective Alexis Lever, I was here the day after Daniel Nicolis’s body went missing.”
The twenty-something year old squinted at the gold shield. “I remember you.” He gave her the once over and smoothed a hand over his green hospital scrub top.
A cold breeze circulated the room. Mario shivered. Alexis shot an annoyed glance at the last spot Reign had occupied.
“I answered a bunch of questions already.”
“I have a few more. You were here when the Nicolis body was brought in?”
Mario nodded.
“Anything unusual or strange?”
He shook his head. “Nope.”
But he wouldn’t make eye contact. She’d bet her paycheck he got away with answering only a few questions because of the VHS footage of Daniel rising from the dead. Why question a person when the police had video evidence, even if the tape lacked quality. Even with budget cuts, she still couldn’t believe they hadn’t upgraded to digital and stepped into the twenty-first century.
“Where were you when the body went missing, Mr. Gonzalez?”
“That body didn’t go missing, no matter what you told the public.” He sneered.
Hmm? “Mr. Gonzalez, did you see something?”
He shook his head hard but looked away. Alexis moved closer to the man.
“I think you did.”
“I didn’t see nothing.” His gazed shifted around the room as he chewed his inner cheek.
She leaned close and whispered. “I’m not trying to jeopardize your job. I just need to know what you saw, please.”
A growl rumbled around the room.
Alexis coughed to mask the sound. “Are you sure you didn’t see anything? This is really important, Mario.”
“Well—” He pointed to the drawer where Daniel had resided. “I saw that door open and a man climb out, like something out of a bad horror movie.”
Her heart raced. “Did you see one man? Or two?”
“Two of them?” he whispered. He pulled a rosary from his scrub pocket and began to pray in Spanish.
It was the last thing she expected from the young man.
“I only saw one zombie. Now you say there are more?” Eyes wide, he raked his hands through his lank hair. His jaw dropped open and his legs wobbled.
Alexis caught him before he dropped to his knees. “Sir, hey—” She shook him to get his attention. “This is not the apocalypse and zombies are not walking the earth.” The last thing she needed was him fainting. She had to speed this up and get out of here.
“When did you see the tape? ‘Cause I saw it that morning with the other detectives and we all thought no one else had seen it but us, so did you see it before we did, or after?” Alexis asked.
The man wasn’t slow on the uptake. By his firm lips and narrowed eyes, Alexis figured he was weighing his options. Lie or tell the truth. She’d wait him out.
It didn’t take long for him to whisper, “After.”
“You made a copy?” She stifled a gasp when he nodded. “Still have it?”
He nodded again.
“Where is it?”
Mr. Gonzalez slipped his hand into his pocket and withdrew his phone.
She couldn’t quell her excitement. “You made a digital copy?”
A smile stretched his lips. He pulled up the video and angled the screen toward her.
Once again, she watched Daniel’s resurrection by a man dressed like an Egyptian prince. He entered the room, opened the drawer, did some mumbo-jumbo, and Daniel Nicolis’s eyes snapped open like he just woke from a good nap. Then the man vanished in the same swirly down-the-drain way she remembered.
She took the phone from him and sent a copy to her cell. “Why did you make a copy, Mr. Gonzalez?”
“I wanted proof I wasn’t to blame for a body disappearing.”
“Good call.”
Someone yelled his name followed by a string of curses.
“I gotta get a body and get back. It was a bad night,” he said.
“Yeah, I heard. Three dead.”
Mario shook his head. “It’s a lot more than three, detective.”
Alexis glanced up from his phone. “What do you mean?”
“Three homeless were found dead in the Bronx. Two businessmen were found in Tarrytown. And four college kids were killed in Riverdale.”
Mario grabbed a stretcher from the opposite side of the room and wedged it below a drawer. He yanked the handle. Metal grated before the door swung wide. Cold air curled and dissipated. Mario adjusted the stretcher, bringing it to the exact height of the lip of the refrigerator. He locked the wheels, reached inside and pulled. A black body bag slid onto the stretcher.
The bag was small. Too small. A chill swept through her. Alexis moved closer. “Is that a child?”
“No, this is what’s left.”
Alexis touched the bag. Random parts moved beneath the surface. Not a body. Her empty stomach heaved. She swallowed a dry gulp and fought the nausea. “Were they all killed the same way?”
“The papers say they were. But these bums got the worst of it.”
“The worse of what?” What the hell had done this?
“The papers say they were eaten.”
All she could do was blink as her mind returned to the factory and the half-filled pit. But that made no sense. All those areas were not only separated by distance, but also demographics and affluence. The beasts couldn’t be the link.
“Hey, you okay?” Mario touched her shoulder.
She handed him back his phone. “I would appreciate if you didn’t tell anyone about our meeting and I won't tell anyone you made a copy.”
Back on the street, Reign appeared. “Do you think the beasts were the cause of the killings?” he asked.
Yes. Maybe. “I don’t know. Once the autopsies are filed, I have a friend that can get me the information.” All of this felt wrong.
“What did that man show you?”
“Shush. I’m thinking.” She had to get her thoughts in order. Something wasn’t adding up. First, Daniel. Second, Reign, her stalker. Third, the quimaera. The three names circled her brain. Daniel and Reign had an Egyptian connection linking them together.
Alexis glanced at Reign and watched him subtly scan the area. The immortal warrior stranded in the wrong century. Men cleared out of the way as they walked down the street while woman ogled, drool almost leaking from their slack jaws as they stared.
She wished he’d stayed invisible.
When they reached her bike, she opened her phone and brought up the video. “Tell me what you see?” She placed her cell in his calloused palm. She didn’t need to view it again. So she studied him.
The man would never be a poker player. Though not obvious to most, he had a Tell. A throbbing vein snaked from his neck and disappeared under his tense jaw.
“I see a man climbing out of the metal drawer.”
Alexis waited for him to say more, but he didn’t. Her heart drummed in her chest. “Really. That’s all you see?” His gaze rose from the screen and met hers. She swallowed hard, trying to bury the denial surging up her throat. It didn’t work. “You're lying.” She snatched the phone from his hand and got on her bike.
It shouldn’t cause her this much pain that he continued to lie. But it hurt.
“Alexis—”
“There are two men on that video. Daniel Nicolis and some Egyptian dude. Two!” She held up two fingers in front of his face. “Not one. And you damn well know it.” She hissed because a crowd had gathered.
“Alexis, I am—”
She revved the engine, drowning out his voice. Reign grabbed the handlebars. Though she tried, the bike wouldn’t move. Her gaze shot to his. She didn’t say a word. Not a single thing. She bared her teeth and stared hard into his blue eyes. A sigh lifted his chest and h
is hands slide from the handlebars.
Alexis backed out of the space and raced down the street. No helmet, her hair escaped the pins holding it in place. For a brief moment, she was free and alone. The wind caught a tear before it rolled down her cheek and dashed it away.
One hundred feet and the wind no longer buffeted her. A presence brushed her mind, seeking a way in. She blocked it and concentrated on riding home and getting Reign Nicolis out of her life.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Through the fog of sleep, Stella snuggled closer to the warm body of her husband. A smile tugged at her mouth. Husband, a foreign word, yet it repeated happily in her head. His warm lips caressed her neck and the curve of her shoulder. A calloused palm cupped her breast and brushed across her nipple. Her back arched, seeking more of the erotic torture.
“Good morning, wife.” His thick voice promised sensual delights and stirred her sluggish body to life. He pulled her closer and she felt his rigid flesh against her bottom. Too tired yesterday to enjoy the pleasures of their first night of matrimony, they’d collapsed into bed and slept. But now, let the honeymoon begin.
The staccato knock at their bedroom door seemed to echo and amplify, impossible to ignore. Roman swore and threw back the comforter. Propped up, Stella stifled a giggle and watched his splendid naked ass stalk across the room.
He yanked open the door. “What?”
“Pardon the intrusion. I wouldn’t have disturbed you if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.” Hector whispered from the half-opened door.
“Who needs me now?”
“You’re not needed. Mrs. Breemer from social services is waiting in the great room to speak with your wife.”
Stella clutched the sheet to her bosom and sat up. “For me? Are you sure, Hector?”
“Yes, she was quite specific,” Hector replied.
“I will be down shortly to deal with her.” Roman closed the bedroom door.
Stella was tempted to allow him to take care of whatever this woman wanted. As she watched him dress, she admitted this wasn’t the way she wanted to start her marriage. She hadn’t survived three attacks on her life less than two weeks ago to hide from her past.
She snapped the covers off and slide from the bed. “I’m going with you.” She braced herself for an argument.
Instead, Roman smiled and waited for her to get dressed.
What could Social Services want? she wondered slipping into a pair of jeans and a sweater. The time she spent as a ward of the court ended six years ago when she ran away from her last foster home. The memory of her final night in the system replayed in her mind as she dragged a brush through her hair until Roman took her in his arms and held her. His immense strength fortified her trembling body.
“You are not your past,” he murmured. He repeated the words until she nodded and tilted her head up for a loving kiss. He held her hand as they walked through the mansion to meet their guest.
Seated by the fireplace, an older, slightly rounded matron sipped tea and munched on petit fours served on Waterford China.
“Hello, Mrs. Breemer. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Roman gave a short bow. “This is my wife, Stella.”
The china clanked painfully against the saucer as she returned it and jumped up to greet them. “Mr. and Mrs. Nicolis, the pleasure is mine. Let me apologize for interrupting your honeymoon. I wasn’t sure if you were leaving on an extended vacation and this couldn’t wait.” Her pale cheeks flushed a bright red and her double chin wobbled.
“We understand.” Stella shook the woman’s hand, hoping to put her guest at ease. She sat next to Roman on the brocade settee. The woman’s plain gray suit and sensible black shoes reminded her of the social worker who’d handled her case years ago. “How can I—we—help you?” She swallowed the lump in her throat.
Mrs. Breemer seemed to gather her strength. Her back straightened and her shoulders squared before she reached into her briefcase and removed a portfolio. She opened it and, from her angle, Stella could see a 5x10 glossy photo of a child. Mrs. Breemer stroked the picture with her thumb before she removed it from the paperclip and passed it to Stella.
“This little girl is your sister, Ember Walker. She’s twelve years old.” The woman cleared her throat. “Mrs. Nicolis, your sister’s in a coma, and needs your help.”
***
The last time Stella was in a hospital, she had pushed Daniel to his death. She shook her head and chased the memories away. Today would be hard enough to handle without dragging the man who tried to kill her into the mix.
Holding Roman’s hand for strength, Stella walked onto the children’s ward at Mercy Hospital. Cartoon characters decorated the colorful walls, giving the place a whimsical appeal.
A horn beeped. “Excuse me,” a small voice shouted. Roman pulled her out of the way and a little boy on a black tricycle streaked with orange flames swept passed. With each rotation of the pedals, engine noises rumbled.
“Slow down, Eric,” a nurse called, but Eric kept pedaling. Mrs. Breemer waited at the end of the next hall. Smiling like a used car salesman, she pumped their hands and ushered them into the room.
The social worker had shown Ember’s chart to them earlier to prepare them for her medical condition, but still, Stella’s knees weakened to see the infant sister she’d lost contact with years ago. She was now a sick, comatose child. Ember’s medical file was as thick as an encyclopedia, yet it held no answer. A foster child for five years, the state hadn’t skimped on her care, yet still a diagnosis remained elusive.
She studied her sister’s straight black hair, thick eyebrows, sooty eyelashes and pale, almost translucent skin. What color were her eyes? Gray like their father’s or brown like Ember’s mother's? Small framed and delicate, she looked like a porcelain doll about to shatter.
“She looks like you.” Roman took her hand and squeezed gently.
“Is there anything she needs?” Stella struggled to keep her voice steady, but it cracked at the end.
“Code blue in room 1208. Code blue room 1208.” Intoned from a hidden speaker in the ceiling. The nurses burst into a flurry of activity outside Ember’s room and a red and white crash cart whizzed by. Stella’s heart kicked into overdrive. Was some poor family about lose what they held most dear?
“She needs a family. Since her hospitalizations have grown longer in duration, we’ve had to move her to a new foster home each time she recovers. It’s as hard being with a new family as it is being comatose. She needs stability.” Mrs. Breemer stroked Ember’s hand.
“Have you had any success locating her mother?” Roman slipped an arm around Stella’s waist and gave a reassuring squeeze of comfort and support.
“Last year her parental rights were terminated. Ember has no parents.”
“How long has she been comatose?” Roman leaned closer to the monitors and studied the steady patterns.
“Two weeks. Odd. Until a month ago, these spells usually lasted less than a week. She’s usually a normal, average fifth grader. Then, at any given moment, she slips into a coma lasting as short as thirty minutes to her current two weeks.” Mrs. Breemer frowned and shrugged. “Her tests show she’s stable and should be awake. All we’re doing is waiting until she wakes up.”
Stella sat next to her sister. “Hello, Ember.” God, she couldn’t say more, but she had to. “I’m your big sister, Stella. I knew you when you were a baby. The last time I saw you, you were six months old and cranky. I used to feed you at night when Dad was too tired and your Mom was…sleeping. I’d hold you until you fell back to sleep.” The beeping machines filled the heavy silence.
Tears rolled down Stella’s cheeks. Roman gathered her into his arms. Pressed close to his side, she looked at Mrs. Breemer through blurry eyes. “What do I have to do to make this happen?”
“What do we have to do to make it happen?” Roman corrected.
She gave him her hundred-watt smile and brought his head down for a kiss.
“Are you sure?” T
he social worker’s voice held some hope, but her eyes were wary. “It’s a lot of responsibility being a foster parent to any child, especially a sick one. There are a lot of rules and regulations.”
“Are you trying to discourage us, Mrs. Breemer?” Stella’s sharp tone seemed to startle everyone.
“It doesn’t matter,” Roman said. “We won’t be fostering the child. We’re adopting her.”
Stella flung her arms around his neck. “I love you,” she whispered in his ear. His phone made a muted ring between their pressed bodies. He kissed her and fished the cell from his pocket. He frowned at the screen.
“It’s okay, I’ll be fine.” Stella turned back to Mrs. Breemer.
***
Roman stepped into the hallway and closed the door firmly behind him. He answered the phone. “Now is not a good time.”
“Excuse me, Roman,” Brayden said. “Sorry, but this couldn’t wait any longer. We’re waiting for you downstairs.”
Roman tapped End and returned to his wife. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
Her brows furrowed, but she nodded. Her trust bathed his soul in warmth. They had been through too much for any doubt between them. He pulled her close for a chaste kiss.
Five minutes later, he exited the hospital and found the trio, Brayden, Avery, and EJ Their grim, urgent expressions set him on edge. Things were about to get worse, how much was the only factor.
“What’s this about?” He studied their rigid features and waited for an answer.
“It’s about what happened two nights ago,” Avery said.
“And Tyrone,” Brayden added.
“Two nights ago? And you tell me now?” he barked. A slow deep breath expanded his lungs and steadied the urge to strangle the three standing in front of him.
“You were getting married. We all agreed to wait.” Brayden pushed off the car and stepped forward.
“Tell me,” Roman ordered. His gut clenched, prepared for the worst.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Alexis parked in her grandmother’s driveway. The protective shield around her vanished. Her shoulders slumped. Keeping Reign out of her mind exhausted her more than running around New York City all night.
Everlasting (Descendants of Ra: Book 2) Page 16