by Aliya DalRae
“Raven. I saw you follow him outside. Was he still there?”
Malcolm had followed Raven to the alley? It seemed plausible, and yet he had no memory of it. Had the leech done something to mess with his mind? Malcolm had heard rumors that Raven’s mental manipulation skills were beyond that of any other Vampire, but had chalked it up as an urban legend.
Rubbing his temples, Malcolm searched his brain for some reason Raven would have to keep him in the dark, but came up empty. Whatever his reasons, they couldn’t be good.
“I have to go,” Malcolm said, ignoring Alex’s question. “It was nice meeting you both.”
Malcolm was juggling his thoughts as he wended his way through the crowd and out the front of the bar. If Raven was taking his memories, Jessica was in trouble, and Malcolm was desperate to get back to his post.
His car was parked not far from the bar, and in no time he was behind the wheel, heading toward Jessica’s at an insane rate of speed.
He had prearranged a place near Jessica’s house where he could park the vehicle out of sight, and it was a short walk to her property from there. The path he’d devised circumvented the motion lights and led to a secret hiding place that was out of the weather. He stashed his clothes there, changed back to King Kat form, and prepared to return to her as the sweet little kitty she’d come to rely on.
Again–hairballs.
Malcolm pushed his way through the two pet flaps, ran through the kitchen and into the living room where Piper and Jessica sat drinking margaritas, their heads together in deep conversation. Based on the slur ratio, these two were pretty sloshed.
“What’s worse than murder?” Piper was asking. Malcolm stole his way across the room, and shimmied under the sofa without being noticed.
“Whatever you can think of, go ahead and use that,” Jessica suggested.
“Well,” Piper seemed to be considering this, “have you talked to his friends?” Jessica must have nodded, because Piper continued. “What are they saying?”
“They’re inclined to believe Raven,” Jessica said, but her voice shook as she spoke. “Mason is totally behind him, and even Perry—you met Perry, remember?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Well, even Perry thinks Raven’s telling the truth. But damn it, Piper, I know what I saw, and even if I squinch my eyes and try really hard, I still see him doing that thing.”
“That thing that’s worse than murder?”
“Yeah, that thing,” Jessica said.
“I asked you back at GT, but I think we got interrupted. Do you love him enough to stand by him, even if he did the evil deed?” Piper rattled the ice in her apparently empty glass.
Jessica got up and walked to the kitchen, presumably to refill their glasses. Malcolm peeked out from under the sofa when he heard her return, and—yep—the glasses were full again. His girl was going to be nursing one helluva headache in the morning. Malcolm smiled a kitty smile, twitching his whiskers, considering their brief kiss.
My girl, he thought, tuning back into the girls’ conversation.
“I don’t know,” Jessica was saying as she refolded herself on the sofa. “I know I love him. He’s like a part of me.”
“Because of all the years of visions?” Piper asked.
“That, and more,” Jessica said. “It’s like he’s inside me, like he’s a living breathing piece of me, separate but the same. God, I’m not making any sense, and if I am, it’s only because we’re drunk. But, seriously, it’s like there’s a miniature Raven running through my veins. Sometimes I think I can even feel his—aw, crap,” she said. “I spilled my drink!”
“Alcohol abuse!” Piper chimed, and they both cracked up as Jessica stumbled to the bathroom for a towel.
Malcolm, however, was mulling over what Jessica was saying. Obviously, Raven was up to his old tricks, but that wasn’t surprising. It was the other thing, about her feeling his essence inside her, that had him snarling under the sofa.
It had to be the blood Raven had given her. Malcolm had read about things like that, but if he recalled correctly, this sort of connection only happened between Vampires. He’d have to investigate, but he was certain the Link had never involved a human before. Of course, Jessica was unlike any human he’d ever met. Leave it to her to be the one and only Homo sapiens who could Link with a Vampire.
And wouldn’t that screw everything up?
Chapter Twenty-Nine
I came back from the bathroom with a towel and tried to sop up the margarita I’d spilled all over myself and the sofa. Damn, I was crocked. Piper was laughing her ass off at me, and I was too drunk to do anything but join her. She tried to help clean me up, but in the end, we moved our little slumber party to the floor. I promised myself I’d take the upholstery cleaner to the sofa tomorrow. Wasn’t the first spot of alcohol the ol’ girl had seen.
When we settled in front of the cold fireplace, the conversation turned serious again.
“How long have you been feeling like this, like you guys are connected?” Piper asked. She was laying on her stomach with her head propped in her hands. I was sitting cross-legged in front of her.
“I don’t know.” I thought about it a second, then said, “A couple of months I guess? And it could be my imagination. Sometimes there’s a wave of anger or excitement that hits me, and it’s totally opposite of where I was emotionally a second before. It’s made me wonder. I was going to ask Raven about it, but I had that vision, and well…it sort of didn’t matter anymore.”
“So, can you feel him now?”
“I don’t think so,” I said, “but I am pretty wasted,” I added for emphasis.
“It’s just, if this thing goes both ways, and if he saw you canoodling with Mac, I’d think he’d be experiencing some pretty intense feelings right now, don’t you?”
As I considered Piper’s observations, Malcolm came out from under the couch and jumped in my lap, rubbing his whiskers against my chin.
“There you are, you little stinker,” I said, sticking my chin out for more rubbing. “Where you been hiding?” To Piper I said, “You have a point. The truth is, he acted like I was some kind of filth on the bottom of his shoe, but I didn’t feel anything from him. Maybe I’m wrong about the whole connection thing. Maybe my talent is evolving, and I’m picking up other things around me?” Malcolm curled up in the bowl of my crossed legs and started to purr.
“I never thought of that,” Piper conceded. “Do you think…” she hesitated. “Do you think you should maybe give Raven a call?”
“I told him I needed space,” I said, “And at GT’s I was pretty adamant about it. I think it would send the wrong signal if I turned around and called him.”
“Do you even want to talk to him?”
“Eventually,” I drug the word out, considering. “But I really need to see how this thing plays out. If I have another vision of him—misbehaving—I don’t think I…” I couldn’t finish the sentence. The lump was back in my throat at the thought of never seeing Raven again. How could I love someone so much but not trust him?
A loud knock sounded through the house, and Piper squealed. I jumped a little too, even though I was more used to late night visitors than she was. I glanced at the cable box and was surprised to see it was after one already.
Malcolm beat me to the door, and I was shocked to see Harrier on the other side. I don’t know who I expected, but it certainly wasn’t the giant wall of a Warrior. I thought I saw someone else behind him, but couldn’t really tell, so I turned the lock and opened the door, but Harrier didn’t move.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” he growled, his lip twitching in that almost smile.
“I have company,” I said a little loudly, to let him know to watch what he said. For Harrier’s ears only, I whispered, “and I know damn well you can come in without my invitation.” He laughed at me, a real honest-to-goodness laugh that left my fuzzy brain baffled.
I stepped aside, and Harrier had to duck quite a b
it to make it through the entrance. I smirked at him when he nearly cracked his skull on the frame anyway. Served him right.
Once Harrier had cleared the doorway, I was able to see that it was Peregrine with him, and I welcomed the Soldier inside with a friendly hug. “Perry, how are you? I missed you the last time I was at…Raven’s,” I checked myself. Piper was standing in the doorway to the living room with her jaw on the ground.
“Jessica,” she squeaked. “Please tell me they’re not both in love with you, too!” Perry blushed and Harrier looked like he’d swallowed a rabbit.
“It’s not that funny,” I snarled at Harrier, and turned to Piper. “These are friends of Raven’s. You know Perry.”
“We were just talking about you,” I said to the Soldier before continuing with the introductions. “And this big lug is…Harry,” I finished with an evil smile at the Warrior. What was he going to do around a human?
“Jessica.” The name came out as a warning, but I was too tired and too drunk to care.
“Well, I want the big one,” Piper was saying. I was not in a physical position to stop her, and before I knew it she’d sidled up to Harrier and wrapped her tiny arms around his waist. Truth was, she only came up to about his waist, so she had to reach up to get her arms there, which put her face—oh, this was so wrong.
I sidled around Perry and grabbed hold of Piper, attempting to drag her off the giant Vampire. Harrier’s eyes were the size of saucers, and he was holding his arms in the air as though something slimy had wrapped itself around him. I was trying, I really was, but Piper was strong for her size, and I was having trouble disentangling her from the massive male.
“A little help would be good here,” I said to Harrier, but he stood there dumbfounded, the look on his face nothing short of comical.
“Mmmmm…you smell goooooood.” Piper was practically drooling, and I groaned.
“Get. It. Off. Me,” Harrier snarled. He was no help whatsoever, though, his huge body stiff and shaking with disgust. I caught Perry’s eye, and we were both quick to look away so as not to laugh out loud. The Soldier schooled his face before working his way around the kitchen table and helping me disengage Piper’s arms from the ruffled Warrior.
“Awwwww. Why does Jessica always get the good ones?” Piper was off the wall. We must be well and truly hammered for her to be acting like this.
While Perry carried my still protesting friend into the living room and deposited her on the damp sofa, I checked the tequila bottle. That bottle had been full when we started, and it was two thirds gone now. I shook my head and smiled. This was so what I needed tonight.
“Sorry ‘bout that,” I said to Harrier, who hadn’t moved from the spot where he’d been attacked by a five foot tall red-headed beauty.
“What was that?” he asked, his arms still sticking out at his sides.
“Stop it,” I said, trying to keep the humor out of my voice. “You know darn well that was Piper, and she’s had a little too much to drink is all. I think she’s feeling lonely. Must be, if she latched on to the likes of you,” I added, pointing an accusing finger at him.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Harrier was regaining some of his bravado. At least he lowered his arms. “You don’t think I was the best choice tonight?”
Perry returned, brushing at his shirt sleeves, his face scarlet. “She okay?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said, but he looked like a spooked colt.
“Are you okay?”
“She tried to kiss me.”
That was it. I lost it. I was laughing so hard I had to sit down. I would have gone to the floor, but somehow a chair appeared under me, which was surprising since both males in the room seemed to be in shock.
“Come on,” I giggled. “You two can’t possibly tell me you’ve never had a girl throw herself at you before.” This was met with identical blank stares. “Seriously? I mean, you’re both—” I waved my hands in their general direction, “—handsome and stuff.” Suppressing all-out laughter was becoming a challenge. “Okay, maybe Perry’s more used to it than you, Harrier, but even you have to have had at least one girlfriend.”
Harrier growled at me again, so I reined in the giggles and focused on the fact that I had two Vampires in my kitchen. Hot ones, to be sure, but it occurred to me that they weren’t here on a social call.
“I’m sorry,” I said, holding my hand up in a solemn vow as I regained some self-control. “I know that was the last thing you expected, and I’m truly sorry for Piper’s behavior.” Harrier glowered at me so I added, “And mine,” with an innocent smile. “Is she okay?” I asked Perry again.
“Passed out,” Perry said, still nonplussed.
“You guys want anything to drink?” I asked, my manners still intact, despite my blood alcohol level. They declined, and I got right to the point. “So, what’s up?”
“Mason sent us,” Perry said. “For the car?”
Mason sent Harrier for the car?
“Also, I need to talk to you,” Harrier added. Riiiight. “Perry, go see that the car is in order.”
“Sure,” he said, acknowledging the dismissal for what it was, and with a small wave Perry left me standing alone in the kitchen with my new BFF.
“Mason wanted me to ask if you would meet with one of our psychics,” Harrier said once Perry had cleared the porch.
“For what?”
“To see if they can help you interpret the vision you had of Raven,” Harrier said with a shrug.
“You want to sit?” I asked, and to my surprise, he pulled out a chair and joined me at the table. Malcolm chose that moment to saunter in from the living room and wrap himself around Harrier’s legs, doing the figure eight thing.
“You’ve got all my sweet friends hanging on you tonight,” I quipped, and Harrier bent down to pet the cat.
“How’s it going, Malcolm,” Harrier asked, scratching him behind his ears. All at once, Harrier stopped mid-scratch and looked up at me, his eyes boring into mine.
“What have you been doing?” Harrier’s voice was light and teasing, but there was no denying the accusation as he scratched Malcolm under the chin.
“What?” I asked, guilt oozing off me in waves.
“You smell like…” Harrier leaned toward me and inhaled. “Like you’ve been naughty.” And he flashed me a genuine smile. Hell, he almost looked proud of me.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, feigning ignorance.
“You do,” he said, pointing an accusing finger at me. “You smell like Malcolm.”
“He’s my cat you idiot, of course I smell like him,” I said, relieved. I think Piper rattled him so much, she shook something loose.
“But why do you…?”
Without warning, Malcolm grabbed Harrier’s arm in both paws, and with a snarl, clamped his teeth on a meaty finger. Harrier yowled and I heard Piper mumbling from the living room.
“Fine,” Harrier was saying, but he was talking to the cat whose jaws were tightly clamped on his first digit. “I get it! I get it! Now give me back my finger, you fuckin’ furball!”
Malcolm let go, and ran for the cat flap, which was probably the only thing that saved him. Harrier was on his feet, fuming. His forearm was scratched and bleeding, and his finger was dripping blood as well.
“Harrier, here, let me look at that. Cat bites are bad,” I said, going into first aid mode. I grabbed for his wrist to try and get a look, but he jerked his hand away from me, snarling.
“Don’t be a baby, let me see. You could get an infection.”
“No, I can’t,” he growled back at me, but at least he let me look. I grabbed an old dish towel I’d carelessly discarded on the back of a chair, and blotted the blood from the puncture wounds on Harrier’s finger. At least they were bleeding freely, so anything bad would hopefully be expelled. I dragged him to the sink and stuck his finger under a gentle stream of cold water, before wetting a corner of the towel and cleaning the scratches.
> Harrier was silent as he watched me tend to his wounds, which I found really were superficial. He didn’t say a word when I led him back to the table and pointed at a chair. He sat without argument. I made him promise not to move while I went for the first aid kit, which took me longer to locate than it should have. I found it in a drawer in the bathroom, and hurried back to the kitchen with peroxide, alcohol, and bandages in tow.
Harrier was still where I left him, that odd crooked smile playing at his lips. I shook my head at his obvious amusement, and pulled a chair up close to him to finish my ministrations.
“Okay, let me see your finger first,” I ordered, and Harrier was obedient in showing me his index finger. I left the dishtowel wrapped around his arm to keep the blood at bay, and focused on the proffered digit. It already looked better. The bleeding had nearly stopped, and the punctures were all but sealed. I snapped my gaping mouth shut, embarrassed that it had been hanging open in the first place.
Vampires. I ripped the dishtowel from Harrier’s arm, and the scratches were practically healed. My drunken, muzzy brain had forgotten how quickly his kind regenerated, and I felt like such an idiot. I was afraid to look at Harrier, sure that he was sneering at me, but when I got the nerve to meet his gaze, I was mystified. He was watching, alright, but not with the disdain I’d expected. No, he looked appreciative, and for some reason, that was even more disturbing.
“I’m sorry,” I said, dropping my eyes and patting his arm before folding my hands in my lap. “I guess I’m pretty drunk, too. I forgot.”
“You really can’t help it, can you?” Harrier said
“Help what?” I asked, chancing a quick glance at his face.
Harrier shook his head and stood to go, but I couldn’t bring myself to see him out.
“I’ll text you the psychic’s number, and you can arrange to meet with him.”
“I never said I would,” I muttered at the floor.
“You will,” Harrier said. I felt his already-healing finger lift my chin so that my eyes met his. “You won’t let him fry if there’s any chance you could be wrong. You can’t help it.” He dropped his hand to my shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze on his way out.