Hotter Than Hell

by Kim Harrison

  She slowed down at the end of her block, searching for a cab. One down, nine to go. She sprinted across the street. Rain kissed her cheeks and made the sidewalk slick and slightly gritty under the orange wash of city light. Deep heaving gasps of chill air made her lungs burn. Her forehead smarted, making her eyes water.

  She crossed Cliff Street, slowing down, pacing herself. Can’t run myself out on the first blocks or I’ll be useless before I get halfway there. If this is another one of his practical jokes I am just going to kill him.

  Three down, seven to go. Selene’s boots pounded into the sidewalk. Rain whispered on the deserted streets and along the length of her messy ponytail, dripped down her neck as she crossed Martin Street and cut across the intersection. There were more streetlamps here, she checked her watch as she ran.

  Two-thirty. Santiago City held its breath under the mantle of chill night.

  The back of Selene’s neck prickled, uneasiness rippling just under her skin.

  Why can’t these things happen in the daylight? Or when I don’t have lecture in the morning? This had better be something good, Danny, I swear to God if you’re just throwing another snit-fit I will never forgive you. Never, ever, ever.

  Something chill and panicked began to revolve under her breastbone. The back of Selene’s neck crawled. I’m getting a premonition. Her breath came in miserable harsh sobs of effort. Either that or I’m just spooked. Who wouldn’t be at 2 A.M. in this busted-down part of town? She set her teeth, grimly ignoring the stitch in her side. Danny. Just breathe, please God, let him remember to breathe. Don’t let him be in the kitchen, there are knives in there. This sounds like a doozy, he hasn’t had a bad panic attack in at least six months, Christ don’t let him hurt himself.

  “Hey, Selene.”

  Selene whirled. “Bruce!” she choked, her hand leaping instinctively to her throat. The silver medallion was still under her sweater, warm against her skin. She hadn’t taken it off. “Good God, don’t do that!” She clenched her hands at her side. If only he was human, I could punch him.

  Bruce grinned down at her, canines glittering in the pallid orange light, his eyes glowing just like a small nocturnal animal’s. Beneath his loud polyester sport jacket and eye-searing yellow tie, his narrow spotted chest was pale and hairless. “Don’t worry so much, Lena. I wouldn’t dream of taking a taste. His Highness wouldn’t like that one little bit.” His lips curled back even more, exposing more gleaming teeth.

  Selene’s heart slammed once against her ribs. Taking a long deep breath, she willed her pulse to slow. Focus, goddammit! Danny needs you, you can’t fight anyone or anything if you’re busy screaming.

  “I don’t have time, Bruce,” she gasped. “Danny’s in trouble.”

  “I’ll go with you.” Bruce shrugged and peeled his lanky frame away from the streetlamp. He had just been Turned, and still looked almost human.

  Almost. The feral glow in his eyes and the quick jerking of his movements screamed “not-quite-normal.”

  Still, for a Nichtvren, Bruce was as close to human as possible. He’d just been Turned, so he didn’t have the scary immobility of older suckheads. Small blessing, but she’d take it. “That’s not neces—” she began.

  Bruce folded his arms, the smile gone. “Danny’s under Nikolai’s protection too, Selene. If I let you go over there and get hurt, His Highness will peel off my skin in strips and salt me down.” Bruce shivered, his long pink tongue wetting his lips. “Trust me. I’ll go with you.”

  “Oh, for Christ’s sweet sake.” Selene wasn’t about to argue with a dead lounge lizard. He fell into step beside her, long legs easily keeping pace as she trotted up the sidewalk. She glanced down. Black loafers and no socks. All you’re missing is a clutch of gold chains and chest hair. She tried to keep her breathing quiet, pushing down a lunatic desire to giggle nervously. Danny, Danny, I’m on my way. Don’t hurt yourself.

  “I don’t…know what…he’s thinking,” she gasped, speeding up. “I’m…perfectly…safe.”

  Bruce managed a high, thin giggle. “Oh, no you’re not, chickadee. You should be glad His Highness took an interest in you.” He didn’t even sound winded.

  I don’t need Nikolai’s protection. I did just fine on my own.

  Okay, so she didn’t want Nikolai’s protection. She’d rather tap dance naked through a minefield singing “Petticoat Junction.” Just because Nikolai was the prime paranormal Power in the city, responsible for keeping the peace among all the other factions of paranormal citizenry, didn’t mean she would ever kowtow to him. His Highness Nikolai indeed. Just another suckhead come out from the shadows under the protection of the Paranormal Species Act.

  Only this one had an interest in her.

  Don’t think about things like that. Danny, please be okay. Don’t bite your tongue or cut yourself.

  Her bag shifted, clinking when it banged against her shoulder. Steel and salt, the tools she needed to banish anything evil or unwanted; it didn’t pay as well as teaching but God knew there was a need for her talents. She’d been so tired when she got home she hadn’t unpacked, poltergeist infestations were like that. Not very difficult, but messy and draining. She pushed the strap higher. “I don’t need his…protection or…yours, suckhead.”

  “That’s what you think.” Bruce grinned down at her, his words soft and even. “Want me to carry your bag?”

  “Of…course…not.” Selene sped up. To hell with pacing myself. Danny needs me.

  Selene’s medallion warmed against her skin, reacting to Bruce’s presence—at least, she hoped that was what it was reacting to. By the time they reached Danny’s building, the metal thrummed with Power. Gooseflesh raced down her body; she choked back a final gasp as she rounded the final corner.

  Bruce smirked, letting out a soft little snort of laughter. Selene curled her hands into fists, resisting the urge to claw the smile from his face. Jumping the Nichtvren won’t get you anywhere, Selene. Just ignore him, and concentrate on what matters. Danny, my God, please be okay. Remember the visualizations I taught you.

  The tall black-clad shape rose from the shadows lying over the concrete steps. Oh, no. Could this possibly get any worse?

  Of course not. Of course Nikolai would show up now. He always seemed to know when there was trouble.

  Bruce dropped back behind Selene. At least I won’t have to see that fucking smirk on his face. Danny, please be okay, don’t be banging your head on the wall again. I’m on my way, I’m coming.

  Her heart slammed once against the cage of her ribs and her fingers curled into fists. Fire bloomed in her cheeks, spread down her neck, and merged with the growing heat of the medallion between her breasts. She fought for control, ribs flaring as she struggled against hyperventilation.

  Hands in his coat pockets, chin tilted toward her, Nikolai’s dark eyes catalogued her tangled blond hair, camel coat, scuffed boots. Her fingers itched to straighten her clothes, brush back her hair, check for loose threads. As usual, he was so contained she longed to see him roughed up a little.

  I suppose you learn a little self-control when you’re a Master powerful enough to rule Saint City. He’s the Prime, after all. We all live our little lives in his long dark shadow.

  A few strands of crow-black hair fell over his eyes as Selene, impelled by the medallion’s growing heat, skidded to a stop inches from him. Her ponytail swung heavily, but he didn’t reach out to grab her arm and “protect” her from falling headlong on the steps. Her heart actually leapt to see him again.

  Stop that. He’s not human, you know that, stop STARING at him!

  Nikolai said nothing, the light stroking his high cheekbones. His mouth, usually curled into a half-smile, was compressed into a thin line. His dark, electric eyes flicked over Bruce, who cringed another three steps back.

  Selene suppressed a burst of nasty satisfaction. Serves you right. She started up the stairs, pressing her left hand against the sudden stitch gripping her side. Her toe caught on the se
cond step.

  She fetched up short when Nikolai closed his hand around her left arm, steadied her before she could fall over, and let her go, all in the space of a moment. “Selene.” The chill rain-soaked air shivered under the word, his voice soft and irresistible. At least he didn’t have the scary gold-green sheen on his eyes tonight, Selene hated that. “Stirling.”

  “I was on watch.” Bruce didn’t sound half so smug now. Of course, he was an accident, Turned as a joke or mistake; Nichtvren didn’t Turn ugly humans. It was an unwritten rule: only the pretty or the ruthless were given the gift of immortality, and Bruce was neither. Why Nikolai kept him around was anyone’s guess, and Selene didn’t want to ask. Bruce’s doglike attachment and gratefulness for any crumb Nikolai threw his way was telling enough.

  Besides, if she asked she had a sneaking suspicion Bruce might answer, and she wouldn’t like the answer at all. Not to mention what she might have to pay for it.

  Selene brushed past Nikolai. Her boots smacked against the cold, wet concrete of the steps. She reached the glassed-in front door and stopped short, digging in her coat pocket for her keys. So Nikolai’s having me watched. She filed the information away.

  Her fingers rooted fruitlessly around in her pocket and found nothing but an empty gum wrapper. “Oh, no.” Her keys were on the table by the door at her apartment, she had not scooped them up on her way out. Just run right past them in her frantic dash. “Bloody fucking hell on a cheese-coated stick.”

  “You need to go in?” Nikolai’s breath brushed her cheek, the faint smell of aftershave and male closing around her. He was right behind her, so far into her personal space it wasn’t even funny.

  A violent start nearly toppled her into the firmly-shut door. She hadn’t heard or sensed him behind her, he just appeared out of thin air. Dammit, does he have to do that all the time? The only place she could go to escape him was through the glass. She stared at the door, taking in deep harsh breaths and willing it to open. There was a quick, light patter of footsteps—Bruce, making off into the night. “I left my keys at home. Danny called. I think it’s a panic attack, and when he gets them he sometimes hurts himself. There’s an intercom—”

  Nikolai reached around her, his body molded to hers, and touched the lock. The gold and carnelian signet ring gleamed wetly in the uncertain light as his pale fingers brushed the metal. He went absolutely still. The medallion’s metal cooled abruptly between Selene’s breasts, responding to the controlled flare of energy Nikolai was using. She could almost See what he was doing, despite the stealthy camouflage of a Master Nichtvren’s aura. The only thing scarier than their power was their creepy invisibility.

  I really wish he’d quit crowding me. Her worry returned, sharp and acrid. Her lungs burned, the stitch knotting her left side again. Please, Danny. Please be okay. I don’t even care anymore if it’s one of your midnight games, I hope you’re all right.

  The lock clicked open with a muffled thunk and Selene grabbed the handle before it could close again. Nikolai’s hand brushed hers, slid over the handle, he stepped aside and pulled the door open. She yanked her hand away. He didn’t have to touch me. He did that on purpose.

  “Thanks,” she managed around the dry lump in her throat. Stop it, she thought desperately, biting the inside of her cheek. The pain helped her focus. It’s only Nikolai. You know what he is, and why he’s doing this. You’re here for Danny, remember?

  “My pleasure.” His eyes dropped down to the medallion safely hidden under her sweater. The metal flushed with icy heat now.

  He’s looking at my chest like he sees dinner there. Heat sizzled along Selene’s nerves. “Oh, stop that.” She stepped through the door, sliding past him, suddenly grateful for someone else’s presence. Her heart hammered thinly, the taste of burning in her mouth. Danny. Just remember to breathe, kiddo. Little sister’s almost there to take care of you. “I suppose you want to come up.”

  “Of course.” His voice stroked her cheek, slid down her neck. He leaned back against the open door, his dark eyes now fixed on her face. Selene gulped down another breath, her heartbeat evening out. The familiar bank of mailbox doors was on her right, and the peeling linoleum floor glared back at the dirty ceiling. “It is pleasant to see you, Selene.”

  Nikolai cat-stepped into the foyer, gracefully avoiding the closing door. Little droplets of rain glittered in his hair, sparked by the fluorescent lights. Under his coat, he wore a dark-blue silk t-shirt and a pair of designer jeans. The shirt moved slightly as muscle flickered in his chest.

  Selene dropped her eyes, turned away from him. Oddly enough, he wore a high-end pair of black Nikes. Vampire fashion just ain’t what it used to be. Selene had to stifle another mad giggle. Where’s the fangs and the black cape, not to mention the evening wear? Her heart sped up, thundered in her ears. God love me, I’m going to have a fucking cardiac arrest right here in the foyer.

  “Well, come on, then.” She started up the orange-carpeted stairs, sidling away from him. Nikolai followed closely behind, but not too close, letting Selene take the lead. For once.

  Given how he’s always going on about how I need “protecting,” it’s a wonder he’s letting me in the building at all. But dammit, if he showed up at the door he’d just scare Danny more. He’s being tactful for once. Lucky me.

  Her legs trembled and she rubbed at her eyes as she trooped up the stairs. Nikolai made no sound. “Would you make a little noise?” She immediately regretted asking. The silence behind her intensified. “Danny sometimes has panic attacks so he calls me. I just hope he’s okay. He hasn’t left the apartment for years.” Shut up, Selene, Nikolai knows. Danny’ll be okay, it’s probably nothing. He just stayed out of his body for too long and had trouble when he came back, another panic attack and the numbness. He’s okay. Be okay, Danny, please?

  Nikolai’s footsteps echoed hers as he climbed behind her. That was a relief, but Selene still felt the weight of his black eyes as they reached the fourth floor. Her thighs and ass burned. Climbing stairs after almost-running ten blocks without rest was a workout she could do without.

  Nikolai’s arm came over her shoulder again and held the heavy fire door open. The hall was dingy, most of the light fixtures missing bulbs, and a drift of fast food wrappers curled up from the far end. Selene’s nose dripped from the chill. She rubbed at it with the back of her hand, tried not to sniff too loudly. Threadbare orange carpet whispered under her boots. The entire hall was so familiar she barely paid any attention. Down the hall a wedge of light speared through the gloom.

  Danny’s door was open.

  CHAPTER 2

  LONG JAGGED SPLINTERS POPPED OUT FROM THE frame, the door loosely hanging from its hinges. Lighter, unpainted wood peered through ragged vertical cracks. Oh, Jesus. Oh no.

  “Danny!” Selene leapt forward just as Nikolai’s hand closed around her arm and pulled her back, jerking her arm almost out of its socket. “Let go of me!”

  “No,” he said, quietly. “Let me.”

  “He’s my brother.” She struggled frantically, achieved exactly nothing.

  Nikolai’s fingers tightened, digging into her softer, human flesh. He pushed her back against the wall. “Stay here.” He looked down at her, his lips a thin line and his dark eyes fathomless. No cat-shine in them now, either. He must be worried.

  Selene’s lungs labored to catch even a small breath. Her back and arms prickled. “Nikolai—” she began, but he laid a finger on her lips. The contact was electric. Her entire body went liquid, a moan starting in her chest. Selene strangled it before it reached her lips, making a thin dry sound instead. Stop it, stop it, no time for this, stop it, God, what kind of a talent did you give me if it makes me feel like this? Goddammit, please, help me.

  Nikolai’s skin was fever-warm. He must have fed, he was metabolizing whatever he’d taken that night—blood, or death, or pain, or sex. Was it wrong to be grateful it hadn’t been her? Though God knew she’d done her share of feeding him. Being fe
d by him.

  Danny. Selene tried to slip along the wall away from Nikolai, but he pinned her in place without even trying. He was being gentle, he could have broken her arm or put her through the wall if he’d wanted to. With hardly any effort.

  He wasn’t human, after all.

  “Move again and I will force your compliance.” Nikolai leaned closer, his lips a breath away from Selene’s, inhaling. Tasting her breath. Well, the dead do breathe, when they want to, she thought in a lunatic singsong. Just like the first night I met him. She hastily shoved the thought away, freezing in place. It was a mark of possession, smelling her breath like that; a Nichtvren didn’t get that close unless he or she intended to feed or mark you. If she struggled, his predatory instinct might come into play and he might well decide to sink his fangs in her throat right here.

  So instead of looking at him, she stared over his shoulder. There was a spot of discolored, peeling paint on the opposite wall. Selene looked intently at it, her eyes hot and dry. She felt his eyes on her, waiting for her to speak, argue, something, Selene bit the inside of her cheek. I’m not going to give you the fucking satisfaction. Something hacked his door down, oh God, oh God. Oh, Danny.

  The weight of Nikolai’s gaze slowly lessened when she didn’t struggle. It took everything Selene had not to move, to stay still and passive. I will not give you the excuse. Danny, please be okay. Come on, Nikolai, you’re so blasted interested in both of us, help him! “Danny.” The whisper escaped despite her. Nikolai took another long breath, leaning close, inhaling her scent deeply. Her knees went weak.

  “Stay here.” He disappeared. Selene felt the shimmer of Power in the close still air of the hallway. To a human it would feel like a chill walking up the spine, a tightness under the lungs, if they were sensitive. Someone without psychic sensitivity might feel a momentary breeze, a cold draft, a sudden flash of fear that would quickly be disregarded.