by L. K. Below
“Not unless you ate breakfast at four in the morning. Come on,” she cajoled. “I’ll pay.” For any University student, she knew those were the golden words.
As he stepped into the hall, shutting his door behind him, Andrew asked, “Where to? Not one of your gothic clubs.”
“Please,” Lori snorted. “They’d rip a guy like you in two. You choose. Somewhere cheap.”
Less than ten minutes later, she bit into a BLT in delight as she surveyed the small café-restaurant bordering the campus. Terrence would never find her here. “So how’s your brother settling in?” she asked Andrew cheerfully.
He raised his eyebrows in astonishment–rarely did she make small talk, let alone cheerfully–but he warmed up to the topic soon enough. By the time she sipped her second cup of coffee and the sun had set, he was regaling her with all the recent conquests his brother had made. Apparently Calvin was nothing like his nerdy older brother.
Just as she finally relaxed, she heard the one voice she had gone out of her way to avoid.
“What do you think you’re doing, Lori?”
When Terrence pulled her to her feet, she was ready. She plucked her stake from its sheath and leveled it at his chest. “I thought I’d made myself perfectly clear yesterday when I told you to stay the fuck away from me.”
Terrence didn’t look worried. In fact, he even had the audacity to chuckle. As easily as if her muscles were made of paper, he eased the stake from her hands and set it on the table. Before she could snatch it up again and use it to shield herself, he leaned forward, giving her mouth a quick peck. Stunned, she stared at him.
What was with all the kissing? And in public, too!
When he smiled, she felt her stomach perform a triumphant somersault. She slammed the door on that feeling–and any other gooey ones which thought to spring up.
“Now, dear,” Terrence said, snagging a chair and sitting down. “Let’s keep those games for when we’re alone.”
It took a minute for her to register his words. Even then, she still couldn’t believe he’d said them.
“Terrence Welsh,” he said, extending his hand to the gaping Andrew.
“I didn’t know Lori had a boyfriend,” Andrew said weakly. His pale skin could have blended in with the white café walls.
Coming back to herself, she bit out, “I don’t.” To Terrence, she said, “I told you to get lost.”
Ignoring her comment, he growled. “This is your idea of protection?”
“I can protect myself!”
Flipping her stake into the air, Terrence said, “Clearly. This shows you can take on anything. What if I had actually been the killer, huh?”
“My spidey sense didn’t warn me you were a threat,” Lori countered. Almost immediately, she regretted her words. While Andrew might be lost as to what they meant, for the first time since she had confessed her talents, she had mentioned them to Terrence. Did he believe what she sensed was real? Swallowing, she continued, “We’re in a public place. No one would attack me here. And I have Andrew to accompany me back to my room.”
Terrence rolled his eyes. “Please, Lori. I pick my teeth with guys like him. He wouldn’t hold up against a strong wind, let alone the killer!”
“Hey,” Andrew interjected. “He is sitting right here. And what’s all this about a killer? What’s going on, Lori!”
Eyes wide, Terrence stared at her. “You didn’t even tell him?”
Guiltily, Lori sat down, trying to take the attention away from her. “I didn’t think it was necessary.”
“The hell it isn’t,” Terrence roared. When the waitress looked his way, startled, he flashed her a closed-mouthed smile and lowered his voice. “If you’re going to replace me with him, you need a fucking SWAT team! The least you could do is tell him what he’s getting into.”
Leaning in between them, Andrew interrupted. “Which is…?”
Without a second of hesitation, Terrence answered, “Someone’s trying to kill her.”
Before Andrew could panic, Lori jumped in. “That may not be true. It could just be a coincidence.”
“A madman killed a woman, posed her to look like you, and left you a threatening letter. I’d say that leaves no room for doubt, Lori.”
Lori ignored him, focusing instead on Andrew. He was from a nice, sane family who lived in the suburbs. He’d had family dinners and soccer matches and everything not associated with a dangerous life. Hell, his mom still baked him cookies every other weekend! He would have a mental breakdown at the news of her peril.
At the moment, he looked about as pale as she did after applying her makeup. “Have you told the police?”
“No,” Lori admitted. She struggled to think of an acceptable reason to keep Andrew from spilling his guts, too.
For once, Terrence proved to be more than just annoying. He said, “Whoever the killer is, he hasn’t made any direct moves against Lori except for the note. If we give it to them, they’ll either dismiss him as your run-of-the-mill stalker, or send him deeper into hiding. Neither of which would be helpful.”
“I don’t know,” Andrew chirped. “Scaring him away sounds like a pretty good plan right now.”
“Until we let our guard down and he decides to come out of hiding. Then it’ll be too late for Lori.”
With his face twitching in annoyance, Andrew muttered, “Well, what are you doing about it?”
Nothing, Lori admitted, though she didn’t say it out loud. For the moment, they were doing nothing. Shouldn’t she be feeling out the other Order members she knew to find a cop among them? Instead, all this time she had subconsciously been waiting for Terrence’s direction. Even the thought left bile in her mouth.
Still, Terrence justified it by saying, “I’m looking, but I haven’t found anything yet. We’re waiting to approach the right person.”
At least one of them was looking. Lori needed to get her life back under control, while she still could.
Sighing, she stood.
While she had intended to say goodbye to the both of them and make her way back to her dorm on her own, possibly detouring to Sharkhouse, Terrence stood with her. “Good,” he said. “I’ll walk you back to your dorm room.”
At that, she stilled. “I told you before, and I’ll tell you again, Terrence–I don’t need or want your help.” Her voice was deadly serious. Maybe he would take the hint this time.
Grabbing her stake, he wrapped her hands around it. “And I told you, Lori. I’m going to protect you, whether you want me to or not.”
As Lori glowered at him, about to shoot him down yet again, Andrew leaped to his feet. “Hey,” he said, doing his impression of intimidating. “If Lori says she doesn’t want you around, get lost, buddy!”
Terrence laughed. Clapping Andrew on the shoulder, he said, “What are you going to do that I can’t?”
Bristling, Andrew said, “I know karate. I can take care of Lori if need be.”
Great. Now the whole male population seemed determined to see to her safety. Did no one listen to her?
Nevertheless, the last thing she wanted was a fight. Terrence would snap Andrew like a toothpick, if his size meant anything. Plus, Lori had already discovered Terrence’s strength firsthand.
“It’s all right, Andrew,” she said through clenched teeth. “I’m just on edge. Come on, Terrence, you can walk me back.”
But she would be damned if she would spend a second longer in his company than she had to.
“Should’ve gone to a church,” she muttered as soon as she re-entered the night air.
“Wouldn’t have stopped the killer,” Terrence grunted.
Glancing up at the faux-vampire, she said sweetly, “No. But I wouldn’t have had to see you, now, would I?”
He didn’t answer.
As she entered her dorm and marched to her room, she stopped. “I’m here. Now you can leave.”
“Not until I know you won’t go out again.”
Rolling her eyes, she pointed o
ut, “I thought you told me I could go out as long as I didn’t go alone.”
“I changed my mind,” he bit out.
He caught her chin in his hand. For a minute, she thought he would kiss her again. Fortunately, he did not. Instead, he said, “I think it’s best you lay low for a while, don’t you?”
Despite her antsy mood, his words made sense.
Chapter 5
Lori could only do so much while cooped up in her room. She worked on her thesis, re-reading Morella and Berenice by Edgar Allan Poe, The Bride of Corinth by Johann Goethe, and multiple other vampire poems. But each of those reminded her of Terrence, and he was the last person she wanted to think of.
So she made a chart on her laptop, cataloging what she knew and pitting her mind against the mystery of the killer’s identity. Unfortunately, her clues were few.
And Terrence didn’t come back the next day.
* * * *
On Thursday, Lori woke to the unsettling thump of her cellphone falling off the nightstand. Groping for the phone, she slid it open to see the time. Instead, five words met her eyes.
RIP Andrea Miller, aka Shark.
Lori bolted out of bed.
She almost crashed into Terrence when, five minutes later, she ran from her room, fully dressed. Today, she didn’t bother trying to brush him off. Instead, she tugged on his arm to lead him in the right direction.
He didn’t argue with her. “What’s happened?” he asked as he jogged beside her.
At their pace, they reached the bus stop before she had a chance to catch her breath. Craning her neck, she spotted the bus down the street. She clenched and unclenched her fists as she waited, filled with nervous energy. “Shark’s dead,” she informed him without looking.
He relapsed into shocked silence.
Frowning, she swiveled her head. “Didn’t you get the text?”
Terrence’s expression was answer enough.
As the bus pulled to a stop, she followed the group of University students as they mounted the steps. Once she and Terrence had claimed a seat, she said, “You haven’t approached the Circle yet.” When he didn’t answer her, she sighed. “It’s just as well. There probably won’t be a Circle anymore. Byte’s a good kid, but he doesn’t have the take-charge attitude to take over.”
Terrence didn’t seem to be listening to her at all. His gaze fastened to his hands, and he chewed his lip with one fang. After a minute, he asked, “Do you think it’s the same guy?”
“I don’t know,” Lori admitted. “I’m going to see what Byte knows.”
For the rest of the bus ride, they were silent.
When she stepped up to Sharkhouse, the gnawing feeling started in her stomach. She would have felt a lot better if the warehouse had been swarming with chaos, rubber-neckers, and cops. Instead, the street was achingly empty. It seemed almost haunted. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and led the way into the basement.
The base was in order–all of Shark’s papers in place, as she had left them. Byte slumped in his chair, staring morosely at them. His brown hair hung limply over his forehead, uncombed. He looked up as she descended. “Shade.” His eyes lit up like she could bring Shark back to life.
“How did it happen?” Lori asked softly. She didn’t see any point in making small talk, not at this time.
Byte stared hollowly at the wall, reliving some past horror. “Someone got her. I went to her house when she didn’t come in and–” He drew a shaky breath. “There she was. I think–she looked like she had been interrogated first. Torture.” He removed his glasses to scrub his eyes.
“Did you call the police?”
Shaking his head, he muttered, “Can’t. They might look into her background.”
Terrence cut in, his voice sharp. “You must have brought someone in. Who did you tell?”
Byte stared at him warily, but he must have realized Lori would only bring another Order member into the Sharkhouse. “Garcias,” he admitted.
Lori blinked. “Garcias is a cop?”
“PI.”
She hadn’t known. “Do you have his office address?”
“Yeah,” he said wearily. “Just a minute.” When he typed away at his keys, it was with much less enthusiasm than usual. Although she itched to urge him to a faster pace, she stood still, fists clenched.
Finally, she and Terrence resurfaced onto the street with a printed sheet in hand.
While it was late–much later than any sane person would choose to work–Lori hoped that Shark’s death had pinned Garcias to his office. Thankfully, she was right. Slouched in his office chair, he still pored over the information from Shark’s murder. When she knocked on his ajar office door, it swung open.
Wearing a frown on his tanned face, Garcias didn’t immediately look up. “I’m sorry, I’m busy with a case right now,” he said absently. “If you’ll come back to–Shade.”
“Lori,” she offered as she strode into the room.
He dropped the papers he was studying onto a growing pile. “I take it you heard.”
She nodded. “What do you know?”
“I’m sorry,” Garcias shrugged, grimacing apologetically. “This is confidential.”
Before Lori could attempt to persuade him, Terrence strode forward. A good head taller than Garcias, the faux-vampire fisted his hand in the PI’s shirt and hauled him to his feet, then to his toes. With his blue eyes blazing, Terrence exposed his teeth with a hiss. “Tell her what she wants to know.”
Lori felt her mouth drop open. “Terrence?” While this hadn’t been her intention, it seemed they were playing Good Cop-Bad Cop with Garcias. And here, she had always thought she would be the badass.
Terrence’s eyes dulled as he stared at her. He dropped Garcias to his feet, but didn’t apologize.
Great. I guess that’s up to me. “I’m sorry,” she said simply. “He’s new.” Still, she had no intention of squandering Terrence’s unspoken threat. In her sweetest voice, she continued, “You were saying?”
Garcias glanced sideways at Terrence before he answered. “At this point, all evidence is inconclusive.”
Although Terrence didn’t seem happy with the answer, Lori accepted it. “I have some to add. The girl who died…”
“Chantal Mayor,” Terrence supplied.
“Ah, yes,” Garcias muttered, shifting from foot to foot. “I heard about it on the news. From the picture, frankly I thought it was you.”
“Did you see the words written on the wall?”
“Words?”
“M-I-A S-M Shade.” With those facts laid out on the table, she proceeded to tell him everything she knew. “I think whoever killed the girl kidnapped the Spenta Michos. And I appear to be his ultimate target.” She looked to Terrence. “Do you have the note?”
Grudgingly, he handed it over.
Garcias raised his eyebrows as he read it. “Can you think of anyone you might have wronged?”
“No.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she hesitated. She didn’t want to tell him, but if he might be able to help her solve this mystery and take her out of harm’s way… Reluctantly, she divulged, “I have clairvoyant abilities.”
“So you’re thinking witch hunt?”
She nodded.
Waving his hand to the two chairs in front of the desk, Garcias said, “Well, then, why don’t you sit down and bring me up to date?”
* * * *
When Terrence finally returned her to the University, it was after four in the morning. Shutting the door in his face when he tried to come in after her, Lori trudged to her bed and dragged her laptop toward her. After chronicling this latest event in her chart, she glanced around the room.
A white sheet of paper lay on the floor by the door, just like it had after the last murder. Shakily, she rose to unfold it.
You will pay for what you’ve done, devil. Are your loved ones safe?
As fear welled in her throat, she dived for her cell. At the last minute, she switched the num
ber she dialed. If her phone was tracked or bugged, she didn’t want to give anything away.
“Hello?” Byte answered groggily.
“I need you to track Terrence Welsh’s cellphone and give me the address.”
“Shade? Uh, sure, but I’ll need the number.”
Without hesitating, she rattled it off. When he found the address, she scribbled it down, thanked him, and hung up the phone.
Luckily, Terrence was listed as a tenant in his apartment. Otherwise, she would never have found him. After picking the lock at the front of the building, she took the stairs two at a time until she came to his door. She pounded on it.
When Terrence wrenched open the door, he was clad in nothing but worn, low-slung jeans. His pale, muscled chest caught her attention like a shiny object to a magpie. Shaking herself, she glanced up into his laughing eyes. “Can I use your phone?”
Taking a sip from the wine glass he held, he frowned. “What’s wrong with yours?”
She fumbled the note from her pocket and shoved it into his hand. “Can I use it?”
As he skimmed the note, he nodded to his night table. Without stopping to take note of the apartment, she punched in a number by memory.
A groggy voice picked up on the fifth ring.
“Cedric? Ced, are Mom and Dad okay?”
“Uncle Ed’s been in one of his moods all day, but they’re both fine. Why?” When her cousin replied, his voice was thick with shock. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She cleared her throat. “Nothing. I just needed to know they were all right. Thanks, Ced.”
“No problem, Lori. Listen, I’m dead. I’ll call you in the morning.”
“No need,” she began, but Cedric had already hung up. She returned Terrence’s phone to the table.
Glancing around the tiny apartment–which held nothing more than a bed, a small fridge, the nightstand, a counter and stove along the wall, and a door which presumably led to the bathroom–she met his gaze. His eyes were as sharp as arrowheads.
“When did this get in?” His voice was murderous. What would he do? Threaten the killer to death? When he wasn’t even near?
“I think it was there when you dropped me off.”