Blood of Eden

by Tami Dane

  “It came back. Last night.” I pointed at the wall. “It did that.” We both went over to it this time. I stood behind him, almost afraid to get too close, now that I knew for certain it had been made by a monster. “It said I did something, tried to escape from my obligation. I thought it was a hallucination, so I didn’t take it seriously. But now ... you see what that says.”

  “We’ll be ready for it.”

  I shivered. “How can you be ready for something you can’t see? Or hear?” I wrapped my arms around myself. An icy draft caressed my nape. I whirled around. Nothing was behind me. “I’m going to be chasing shadows,” I mumbled.

  “I won’t let anything happen to you.” JT gathered me into his arms, and I relaxed against him. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the scent of him as it teased my nostrils. His heat seemed to seep into my pores and radiate through my body.

  This felt so right, so good, being held by JT. He made me feel safe, even from invisible creatures. Safe and cherished and special. A big part of me wanted to say to hell with the stupid FBI and all its rules, and let this thing between us take its natural course. There were a million other things I could do with my life than chase bad guys and play with guns.

  But then the image of Tutu Girl played through my mind.

  I’m no quitter. I’ve been preparing for this job my entire life. The good I might do is far more important than some silly romance that probably won’t last.

  “What’s happened with our case the past few days?” I asked.

  Recognizing the tone of my voice, JT released me, backing up a step. “There’s been another death. The unsub is back to killing. We don’t know why she stopped for a while, but we’re going to figure it out.”

  “I want to get back to work.”

  “I don’t think it’s safe, not now.” JT grabbed my shoulders. His grip was tight. His gaze was dark, full of desperation.

  “The thing chasing me isn’t going to stop, whether I’m working or not.”

  My bedroom door swung open.

  JT and I jerked away from each other; then we looked to see who had caught us.

  Gabe’s expression was as dark as JT’s had been moments ago. “You asshole,” Gabe grumbled.

  JT visibly tensed. “We’re having a private conversation. Get lost.”

  “Like hell I will.” Gabe marched into my bedroom, grabbed my arm, and practically dragged me away from JT.

  I wound up and smacked Gabe. “Get your hands off me.”

  “You don’t want to know what people are saying.” Gabe jabbed a finger at JT. “And it’s his fault.”

  “What are they saying?” I asked JT.

  JT fumed for a moment, then charged out of the room.

  I wound up to smack Gabe again, but I didn’t follow through.

  “I’m telling the truth,” Gabe said, softer this time.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “JT told some of the guys down in the BAU that he’s sleeping with you.”

  I plopped on my bed. “What? He wouldn’t.”

  “He did.”

  “But we’re not.”

  “I guessed as much.” Gabe sat beside me. “Not yet.”

  “Why would he lie?” I asked him.

  “Why do a lot of guys lie? To make himself look good.”

  I don’t know if it was hopeful thinking, or being stupid and gullible, but I didn’t believe JT had told anyone we were sleeping together. I stared down at the floor and did some soul-searching. “I don’t know... .”

  Gabe set his hand upon mine. “You gotta watch these people. They aren’t all that they appear.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  Mom stormed into the room. “What’s going on in here? That friend of yours, JT, just ran out of the apartment like his ass was on fire. And I think there’s something wrong with your roommate, Sloan. She’s in the kitchen. Come and see.”

  Knowledge is of no value unless you put it into practice.

  —Anton Chekhov

  21

  Mom was right. There was something wrong with Katie. She was covered in something red and wet and slimy. Katie stood in the kitchen, dripping. A pool of red ooze was collecting under her.

  But that wasn’t the weird part.

  It was her eyes. They were locked on the far wall, the pupils pinpoints. She was trembling, her lips almost pure white. And she didn’t respond when I called her name, poked her arm, or shook her.

  This isn’t depression.

  It was time to get her to a hospital.

  I tried pulling her toward the door. She didn’t budge.

  I looked at Gabe. Gabe glanced down at his designer sweater and jeans, scooped the dripping, shaking Katie into his arms, and hauled her to my car. He drove—I was still a little groggy from those stupid pills. I tried to get Katie to say something.

  She didn’t.

  I soon found myself in familiar territory, in the hospital emergency room. I could tell some of the staff recognized me. They gave me a wide berth. Fortunately, it didn’t impact Katie’s care. She had a nurse and doctor at her bedside within minutes. The nurse checked her blood pressure and heart rate, while the doctor asked Gabe what had happened. I took care of the business end of things, giving Katie’s insurance information to the lady from registration.

  Mom dashed in just as we were finishing up. “How is she?”

  I shoved Katie’s insurance card and driver’s license into my purse. “We don’t know yet. They took her back to a room. Gabe went with her to answer questions. What happened?”

  Mom shrugged. “One minute, I was alone, and the next, she was standing there, just like you found her.”

  I motioned toward some nearby chairs in the waiting room. “My life has turned into an episode of Lost.” At Mom’s nod, I claimed a seat facing the registration desk. “It’s going from weird to weirder.”

  Mom sat next to me. “I’m sure she’ll be okay.”

  “She hasn’t been herself for a while. I’ve been a little worried about her. But things have been so crazy, I haven’t had any time to think about what it could be.”

  “You’ve had a lot to deal with lately.”

  I hugged my purse to my chest. “She either sleeps day and night, or wanders around, sleepless. And then there’s her room. She’s always been such a neat freak, and now it looks like a feature on Hoarders. She’s been super irritable too. I thought it might be depression. I didn’t do anything. I just left her alone and pretended nothing was wrong.” I dropped my face into my hands. “I feel like I’ve let her down.”

  Mom wrapped an arm around my shoulders and gave them a gentle squeeze. “You haven’t. You’re here now.”

  “But maybe if I’d done something sooner, we wouldn’t be here now. It wouldn’t have gotten this bad.”

  “Do what, Sloan?” Mom asked.

  “I don’t know. Get her to see another doctor?”

  “You can’t make someone do something they don’t want to do.”

  “I know.”

  Mom gave me another motherly squeeze. “You’ve had a rough few days. I think you need some rest.”

  That statement only reminded me that I could have an unwelcome nocturnal visitor tonight. And now that JT had stormed off, I had no idea who, if anyone, would be keeping a watch out for it.

  “Sleep is highly overrated.” I turned to Mom. “Anyway, we didn’t get to finish our conversation. About Dad? What makes you think he’s still alive?”

  “This.” Mom dug into her purse and pulled out a daisy, dried between two sheets of acid-free paper.

  “Mom ...” It was hardly proof that a man who’d been believed to be dead for decades was still alive.

  “I know what you’re thinking. Daisies are everywhere. But here’s the thing. Your father and I met at a park, and I made him a daisy crown. I wore one in my hair on my wedding day.”

  So far, I wasn’t seeing the significance. “Yes, and ... ?”

  “Nobody knew this about u
s, but we made a promise to each other on our wedding night that we would always be together. Actually, your father made this promise to me. I thought it was strange at the time, but it was important to him, so I listened.”

  Still, nothing. “Okay.”

  “He said, if we were ever separated, by anything or anyone, he’d find a way to let me know he was okay. He’d send me ... a dried daisy.”

  Now I got it. “You swear nobody else knew?” I asked.

  “No one.”

  “Okay.” I sat back and took stock of the situation. It was an odd coincidence. And there was a sense of believability to the story. And yet, I had my doubts. “Where did you find the flower?”

  “On my nightstand. It wasn’t there when I went to bed.”

  I inspected the flower closer. It was fragile. I couldn’t tell how long it had been preserved. “Did you save any of the flowers from your wedding?”

  “Yes, of course, I did. I saved every single one from my bouquet. They’re safe and sound in my old copy of The Catcher in the Rye.”

  “Maybe you’d better check and see if one’s missing.”

  “Do you suppose someone broke into my apartment, took one of my flowers out of the book, and put it on my nightstand? Why would anyone do such a thing?”

  “I don’t know, Mom. But before you start believing Dad’s alive, it’s a good idea to double-check.”

  She shrugged. “I guess you’re right.”

  “You’ll tell me what you find?”

  “You’ll be the first to know.” Mom stood. “If there’s nothing else I can do, I think I’d like to go home.”

  “It’s okay. Go home. Get some rest. I’ll let you know when we get out of here.”

  Mom and I exchanged a hug—which used to be very rare. I don’t know if it was the mental illness or something else, but Mom had never tolerated people touching her. It was a wonder she’d ever conceived a child. Lately that seemed to be changing.

  Minutes after Mom left, Gabe ambled into the waiting room and flopped into a chair next to me.

  “How’s Katie?” I asked.

  “The red stuff was some kind of paint. Evidently, she bathed in it.”

  “Bathed in paint? That’s not something a girl does on a regular basis.”

  “Yeah. She couldn’t say why either.” Gabe snatched a copy of Good Housekeeping off the table next to him and started thumbing through the pages. “I left when the doctor came in, so I don’t know what’s going on. Before I came down here, though, I checked with the nurses’ station. The doctor ordered some tests. She’ll be here awhile, at least a few hours. Are you going to wait?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I will.”

  “I’ll stay with you.”

  “That isn’t necessary.”

  “It’s okay. I don’t mind.” He leaned closer. “Maybe now you can tell me what’s up with the DNA analysis?”

  “Oh. Sure,” I whispered. I glanced around. A pair of elderly men sat huddled in one corner of the room. And a woman was cradling a small sleeping child in another. None of the people seemed interested in what we were talking about. “The sample contains insect DNA. They’re running further tests to try to identify which species. JT thought the unsub might—”

  “JT knows about the sample?” Gabe said a little too loudly.

  I stiffened and checked the men. They were still doing their own thing, but the woman was looking our way now. I held an index finger to my lips, warning him to keep his voice low. “JT was the one who found someone to run the test.”

  A little muscle along Gabe’s jaw pulsed. “Did you tell him where you got the sample?”

  “No. What’s your problem with him, anyway? I’ve never seen you treat anyone so harshly—except for me, of course.”

  “I told you, I don’t trust him. I haven’t trusted him since I joined the PBAU. And I trust him even less now, after what he did to you. By the way, you don’t seem to be very upset about that.”

  “I’m upset. Especially since what he told them isn’t true. We haven’t slept together. Hell, we haven’t even kissed.” Hardly kissed. “But I’m having a hard time believing he’s going around telling people lies. I don’t see him being that kind of guy, for one. And secondly, that would put his job in jeopardy too.”

  Gabe didn’t look convinced. “You haven’t known him for long. Maybe you don’t know him at all.”

  “True, but it’s obvious he cares about his job. I can tell that already.”

  Gabe’s mouth thinned. “Whatever. Anyway, what do you think the test means?”

  “I’m guessing the sample was tainted with insect DNA. Maybe the victim swatted a mosquito?”

  “Yeah, maybe.” Gabe looked doubtful.

  “You disagree?”

  Gabe shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve been doing some reading, and ... you’re going to think I’m crazy... .”

  “I’m going to think you’re crazy? Gabe, did you know I was prescribed antipsychotic drugs for hallucinations?”

  Gabe’s eyes widened. “What?”

  “Yeah. The doctor decided I was hallucinating, diagnosed schizophrenia, and drugged me up.”

  “No shit.” He gave me an appraising look, like he half expected to see something had changed since I’d been diagnosed. “I’d heard you were attacked, not that you’d had some kind of breakdown.”

  “I was attacked. The problem is, when the doctor saw the video recording of the attack, there was no attacker.”

  “Huh?”

  “I’m not schizophrenic.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I was attacked by something ... unnatural. Something that isn’t captured with regular video-recording equipment.”

  Gabe didn’t respond right away. “So the doctor saw you freaking out about something that wasn’t there?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Then it’s true,” Gabe whispered.

  “What?”

  “Monsters really do exist.”

  “Are you making fun of me?”

  “Hell no.” He was serious.

  “I can’t say if ‘monsters’ exist, but I can tell you this. There are things out there that we don’t understand. Strange, dangerous things.”

  “Maybe you should dig out your dad’s old papers?” Gabe suggested.

  “Yeah, maybe I should.” I leaned back in my chair, stretching my legs out in front of me, and let my head rest against the wall.

  Sometime later, Gabe nudged me awake. I opened my eyes to find I’d flopped over and was using his shoulder as a pillow. I apologized and straightened up, blinking bleary eyes to try to clear them.

  “Katie’s being discharged. Are you ready to go?”

  “Yeah.” I pushed to my feet and shuffled after Gabe, who was leading the way. Katie met us at the door. She still had red paint in her hair, and in her eyebrows. All around her fingernails were stained crimson. “How are you feeling?”

  “No better. I told the doctors something is wrong with me, but they didn’t find anything.” She visibly sighed. “I feel like my brain is short-circuiting. My hands and feet are numb. And sometimes I have this awful itchy-crawly sensation under my skin.” A tear slipped from the corner of Katie’s eye. She dragged her hand across her face, smearing it. The slightest tint of red stained her cheek.

  I was petrified for her.

  Numbness. Itching. Now, those were physical symptoms. Vague and unspecific, but still physical. “We’ll take you to a doctor,” I promised. “We’ll find one that can figure it out. The numb sensation in your hands and feet ... I wonder about that.” I put my arm around Katie’s shoulder and walked her out to the car. Gabe drove us home and parked my car. After making sure we got into our building safely, he headed home.

  Katie went straight to bed.

  Now I was alone. I was scared. All I could think about was Mr. Stinky’s awful face. And that terrible voice. When I closed my eyes, I could almost hear him. A little scratch, the soft pad of footsteps, the creak of a door.r />
  There was no way I was going to sleep tonight.

  Recalling the conversation I’d had with Gabe, I snatched my keys and headed down to our building’s basement. Each apartment had a small storage locker down there. Somewhere, in the mountain of boxes I’d shoved into the six-by-six-by-seven space, was a small box with my dad’s notes and papers. I unlocked the metal gate and opened the locker. My eyes traveled up, up, and up the stack of tightly packed boxes. This was going to take a while. And I was tired. But it was better than going upstairs, falling asleep, and being woken by that ... thing.

  I pulled the top box off the stack and dragged it out of the way. A quick inspection told me that wasn’t the box I needed, so I repeated the process with the next one, and the next, and the next. After intense labor, I had half of the contents of the locker crammed against the coin-operated washer and dryer, which nobody used. It took me more hours spent searching to find the right carton. Of course, it was one of the last ones, jammed into a small nook at the rear of the locker. I hastily rammed all the boxes back in place, locked the gate, and carted my find upstairs. I sat up into the early morning, reading and munching on nacho chips and cheese dip.

  Just after daybreak, a knock on the front door interrupted my reading.

  JT.

  I stepped aside. “Hi.”

  “I saw lights on. Did I wake you?” He took a look at me and grimaced. His gaze settled on the top of my head.

  Out of instinct, my hand went to my head. My hair, I realized, was a mess. “It’s okay. I wasn’t sleeping.” I motioned toward the couch. “Have a seat. I was just about to make some coffee.”

  JT didn’t move. He was staring at the couch.

  “Sorry. I guess I got a little carried away with the research.” I rushed to the sofa and gathered up the papers and folders strewn all over. Dividing them into stacks, I set these on the floor.

  “It’s okay.” JT caught my arm, coaxing me to stop what I was doing and turn toward him. “I won’t stay long. I just wanted to talk about what Gabe said yesterday.”