Death of Night

by Krissy Reynolds

  After the…events…on the couch last night, Callum and I had made our way up to this room, carefully dodging Ophelia in the downstairs hallway. Callum clamped a hand over my mouth, pressed me into the wall, and flashed a grin at me. I remembered hearing Ophelia's heels click away from where we stood. I was thankful since I had been wearing my tee-shirt and underwear and nothing else, my jeans, bra, boots, and gun bundled in my arms. Callum had just been clad in his black jeans. When he didn't lift his hand from my mouth, I shot him a glare. He laughed quietly, dropped his hand, gave me a thorough kiss that nearly made me drop what was in my hand, and then pulled me down the hallway, up the stairs, and into this bed. And after that…well…

  I ran a hand over my face and slid off the bed, patting around for my clothes. As I pulled my jeans on, I shook my head, recalling last night. Had that really happened? I picked my bra up off the floor. Yes, that definitely happened.

  I couldn't tell what time it was; the heavy curtains sealed out all light. Callum had left when the sun was about to rise to go wherever he went during the day. I had been half asleep when he unraveled himself from me and pressed cool lips to my shoulder.

  Dressed with the Firestar tucked into the waistband of my jeans, I opened the door and headed to the bathroom that was two doors down. It was small and neat with a toilet, sink, mirror, and shower. I splashed my face with water and turned off the faucet, staring at the drain.

  What happened last night was raw, untamed, unapologetic. My body was shaky and weak this morning, my head light and a little fuzzy. I straightened and the mirror reflected smudged mascara and swollen lips. A smile spread across my face. I was having those foggy, scatterbrained thoughts the morning after usually brought. Sex wasn't new to me, but sex with Callum was. With his two hundred and ninety-nine years of practice, I had felt a bit out of my league. But I quickly managed to get over any insecurities and took it as an opportunity to learn a few lessons. And Callum was an excellent teacher.

  I fixed what I could and took a quick look at Damien's bite mark before leaving the bathroom.

  There were human guards stationed at the front door. As I came down the stairs in day-old clothes and my mussed ponytail, the words "walk of shame" came to mind. When I approached the doors, I paused. "Can you guys…uh…let me out?" I asked the two men who were looking at me blankly.

  One of them, a young man with a buzz cut, smiled politely and said, "He said you might try to leave."

  My eyes widened. "Oh, did he?"

  He nodded. "He said to tell you –" he paused as if he was trying to remember the exact words, "—that he wishes you would stay the day, for your own protection. If you still insisted on leaving, he told me I was to accompany you, ma'am."

  I pursed my lips. "Tell him I appreciate it, but I'm a big girl and I have errands to run."

  "Um, ma'am, with all due respect, I can't tell him that," he replied uneasily.

  I did not appreciate Callum attempting to hold me prisoner in his house, no matter how good his intentions were. I sighed, crossed my arms, and looked the guard straight in the eye. "Look, I get it. But I'm leaving, alone."

  "Ma'am, we'll get fired—"

  "I'll take full responsibility," I interrupted, reaching for the door handle.

  "Ma'am," the other guard said, stepping in front of the door. He was older than the other one, around thirty-five years old, with dark brown skin and a stern sort of face. "I apologize, but there is no way you're going to leave here without one of us."

  I met his eyes. He was serious. I closed my eyes, inhaled, and said, "Fine." I pointed a finger at his chest. "But try and be nondescript. I don't need any extra attention."

  "'Course, ma'am," he nodded, moving to open the door.

  "Call me Dahlia," I said, following him out, giving a nod to the other guard.

  "Mike," he replied.

  We parted ways; I headed right towards Liam's car parked in front of the house while Mike went left to a black sedan. I slid in, noticing that the keys were on the dashboard. Starting the car, I took a moment to breathe in the smell of leather and stale air.

  I buzzed the windows down as I drove, letting in the cool morning air. Making a mental to-do list, I decided I would stop by my apartment, shower, pick up some extra ammo, and then head to the mall to find a dress for Callum's party, which was tomorrow evening. I was happy Ayden had given me time off of work because managing a case right now would have been impossible. I would also have to visit Will in the hospital. I didn't know what I would say to him and I knew it would be uncomfortable, but I had to see him.

  Nothing seemed out of place at my apartment building, even after last night's werewolf assassination attempt. Lilynn must have a lot of money and resources to hire a pack of werewolves to kill me. She had been crazy before, dealing with being carelessly dismissed by Damien and then developing jealousy towards me because of his obsession with my blood, but now she was on a whole other level. Killing Damien had knocked another screw loose in her head. I knew she was going to keep coming after me. That's why I needed more ammo.

  A nice hot shower, some breakfast, and two mugs of Earl Grey later, I headed off to the mall with a purse filled with extra ammo. I overspent on a long, fire engine red dress that made me feel self-conscious, but I didn't have the patience to try on more the whole store. Plus, the sales associate had caught a peek of my ammo-filled bag and it was time to get out of there.

  It was lunchtime by the time I got back to my apartment. As I parked the car on the side of the road, I glanced in the rearview mirror and glimpsed Mike's sedan park a block away. Being a P.I., I was trained in the art of following someone and I had to admit, he had remained quite discreet. There had been a less inconspicuous moment, however, when I was trying on dresses and he had to pretend to be browsing women's formal wear.

  There wasn't much food in the apartment for lunch, but I managed with canned tomato soup and some frozen chicken. As I cleaned up the table, my stomach filled with nerves at the prospect of seeing Will. I remembered his bruised face in the hospital bed, hooked up to machines, the slow steady beep of his heart rate.

  I turned on the oven and pulled out a cake batter mix from one of the cabinets. I knew I was stalling, but I didn't want to visit Will without a gift. Bringing some chocolate cupcakes would make me feel better.

  Distracted by cleaning up the apartment a bit, the cupcakes come out slightly charred around the edges. I attempted to cover up the damage with extra frosting.

  Mike was reading a newspaper in his car. When I came out of my building with a tinfoil-wrapped container filled with the cupcakes in one hand, adjusting my purse on my shoulder with the other, he glanced up, folded the paper, and tossed it on the passenger side seat. I gave him a slight nod.

  St. Joseph's Hospital was becoming all too familiar to me. I made my way to the elevators and pushed myself onto a packed one. Mike was right behind me. When we stepped off at the fourth floor, I gave him a tight smile, bit my lip hard, and started down the hallway. My stomach was twisting into knots, my palms were sweaty, and my face was hot.

  There were mumbling noises coming from Will's room. I hesitated before knocking. Blowing out a breath, I tapped lightly and waited.

  An older woman opened the door. With ashy brown hair, crow's feet, and a pleasantly rounded figure, she gave me a tired smile. "Hello. You must be one of Will's friends." She stuck out her hand. "I'm Connie, Will's mother."

  I shook her hand. "Nice to meet you, Connie. Is Will awake?"

  She nodded, stepping out of the doorway. "He is. I'm sure he'll love the company. I see you brought some goodies?"

  I held up the container of cupcakes and smiled. "Cupcakes. I might have overcooked them a bit, though."

  I walked into the room and saw Will propped up in his bed. He looked better than when I had last seen him. His face was still a bruised mess, but his left eye was less swollen and he had a bit more colour. He gave me a blank look. I set down the cupcakes on his bedside table, ne
xt to a bouquet of flowers.

  "How are you feeling?" I asked quietly.

  Connie closed the door and came into the room. I really didn't want her here. It was uncomfortable as it was.

  "Not well enough to eat your cooking," Will said, but without a smile.

  I stood by him. "Oh, shush," I said. "I cook just fine."

  He pressed his lips down into a thin line. "Glad to see you're still alive," he said callously.

  Glancing at his mom, I replied, "Yeah, you too."

  There was a long pause. We looked at each other. "We need to talk, Dahlia," Will said.

  Connie interjected from the other side of the bed. "Oh! You're Dahlia?" she exclaimed.

  Confused, I replied, "I am."

  "It's wonderful to finally meet you. Will talks –"

  Will threw her a sharp look. "Mom."

  "Well," she blubbered, "I just mean –"

  "Mom!"

  I hid a smile and played with the blanket on the bed.

  "You don't know what happened to Will, do you, Dahlia?" Connie asked hopefully. She smoothed his hair off his forehead. "He can't remember much. I personally think it was a home invasion. I've been hearing on the radio that there's been a lot in the San Francisco suburbs area. The nice policeman that took Will's statement said they don't have any leads, though."

  "No, I don't know what happened," I said. Will's eyes were fixated on my face, so I looked down.

  Connie looked between us. "Well, I'll just go downstairs for a quick bite to eat," she said and left the room.

  Will grabbed my hand and gripped it hard. "'Lia, what the hell happened?"

  I licked my lips and closed my eyes. "Will, I know you have so many questions. But I –"

  "Don't you dare tell me that you can't answer my questions," he interrupted, eyes flashing angrily. "I almost died."

  Yanking my hand from his grip, I turned around, hugged myself, and gazed out of the small window. I bit my nails. "Will, I'm so sorry. I'd explain everything but I really don't think…I really don't think you want to know the truth."

  "That's bullshit, 'Lia," he growled. "This is just another case of you not wanting to share things with me. You don't even care that because of you, I'm in the ICU –"

  I whipped around. That hurt. "Of course I care, Will. Jesus, I feel so horrible it hurts!" I clutched my stomach. "But I don't think an explanation is going to make you feel any better –"

  He shook his head fiercely and said, "This is about Callum Knightley, isn't it?"

  "Wha—" I said, mouth gaping slightly.

  "He's got something to do with all this, doesn't he?" He sat up as much as he could on the bed. "Ever since you've been involved with him, things have turned to shit."

  "No," I started, shaking my head.

  "Stop protecting him, Dahlia. He's involved in some bad shit and everyone knows it. He's just dragging you under with him. I don't care if he's rich or famous or whatever the hell it is you see in him, he's no good."

  I swallowed. Callum was involved with some bad shit, all right, but it wasn't the type of bad shit Will was thinking of. But it wasn't my place to tell him about supernatural creatures and their politics or my confusing status as the Letalis Flora. "Will, what happened to you…those men…"

  "I heard them use Knightley's name. I know they're connected to him. And I heard them use your name, too." He gave me a pointed look. "That guy in charge, he talked about you a lot."

  Yeah, I'm sure Damien talked about me a lot. "Look, one thing I can tell you is that those guys have been taken care of."

  "It sounded like they were using me to get to you," he said, ignoring my previous statement. "What happened that night, 'Lia?"

  His eyes were pleading and I felt my heart swell. I gave him a look that told him he wasn't going to get anything out of me. His eyes turned cold. His face shut down.

  Breathing in deeply, he said, "I love you. God, I think loved you since you moved in across from me –"

  "Will, don't—"

  "I know I screwed up. A lot. I was an idiot. I didn't mean to hurt you." He squeezed his eyes shut, his black eye not closing all the way. "And I know you don't feel the same way about me, but you have to know that…that I love you. But I can't do this anymore, 'Lia. You never tell me the truth, you're always hot and cold with me, and I just…can't. I'm in the hospital and you're still keeping things from me."

  Will and I had been in the beginnings of a relationship a couple of years ago when he decided to get back with his pernicious ex-girlfriend multiple times. And when I confronted him about it, he was so apologetic with those sea-blue eyes that I gave him another chance. And another. And another. And finally, one night, I decided to turn our relationship into something purely platonic, which he hadn't been happy about. Six beers and five shots of whisky later, he had rapped on my door, forced his way in, and said some of the most hurtful things I've ever heard. He had apologized and I had since forgiven him, but it had been hard to forget.

  "And I can't watch you with Callum Knightley," he continued, determined to get all his feelings out. "There's no way he'll ever feel the same way that I do about you. Plus, I don't trust that bastard."

  I plopped down in one of the chairs next to his bed and ran a hand through my hair. "Will," I said, looking up at him. "You know we would've never worked out." He sighed. "I'm not going to change and I really don't think you want a girl like me. I care about you and I'm so sorry this happened because of me—"

  "Stop," he muttered.

  "I—"

  "I don't want to hear it."

  "Okay," I said quietly.

  Will let out a frustrated sound. "What happened to us, Dahlia?"

  "I don't know," I murmured.

  Will leaned back on his pillow, face staring up at the ceiling. "I don't know how to say this, but I don't…I don't want to see you for awhile."

  I dropped my eyes to the linoleum floor. My chest was tight as I stood up and gripped my purse hard. I started towards the door, trying to keep my face under control.

  "Be careful," Will told me.

  I glanced at him and gave him a tight-lipped nod. "Yeah. Feel better."

  I opened the door and flew down the hallway, nearly running into Mike on my way out. I hit the button for the elevator more times than necessary, and then paced back and forth. Mike waited with me, throwing questioning looks my way, but once the elevator dinged and opened, he stepped onto it and acted like he didn't know me. The people on the elevator avoided eye contact as I forced my way into a corner.

  As I walked as fast as I could to the car that was in the parking lot across the street, a tear leaked out of an eye. I swept it away with my hand and unlocked the car. Once I was seated, I sat still with my hands on the steering wheel.

  I had known that visiting Will wasn't going to be pleasant, but I didn't expect him to want me out of his life. His words still stung. But I couldn't really argue with them. I was constantly keeping things from him, I was confusing with my affections, and I wouldn't let him get close to me. I understood, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt.

  We were neighbors, so it was going to be hard to stay away from him completely. I rubbed a hand over my face. When my life became so complicated? Absently, I wished that my container full of chocolate cupcakes was here to keep me company.

  Letting out a loud sigh and running a finger under my eyes to make sure there was no smudged mascara, I started the car and headed home.

  * * *

  I was dozing off on my couch, legs hanging off the arm, magazine face-down on my stomach, when I was hit in the shoulder by something quite hard. I woke with a start and a gasp, glancing around my dark living room. A shadow loomed by the French windows, throwing something in the air and catching it again.

  "Wha—" I started, swinging my legs down and trying to sit upright. Squinting at the shadow, I moved for my gun that I had purposely left on the coffee table in front of me.

  "Ah-ah, sunshine," Liam's voice said chi
dingly. "I wouldn't do that."

  Putting a hand to my heart, I exhaled in relief. I fumbled for the lamp's switch. "God, Liam, what the hell are you doing?"

  The light snapped on, filling the room with yellow light. Liam was leaning against the window with an apple in one hand. He was wearing his usual outfit of a black shirt and black leather pants. I noticed an apple was on the ground next to my feet. Looking up indignantly, I asked, "Do you throw an apple at me?"

  He tossed up the one in his hand. "Maybe."

  I made a sound and smoothed down my hair. Standing up, I picked up the apple and pulled down my shirt. "How did you even get in? I'm sure I locked the door."

  Liam shrugged, looking bored.

  I frowned at him. He was in a bit of a bad mood. Walking over to the kitchen, I placed the apple back in the bowl Liam had undoubtedly stolen it from.

  "Hurry up and get ready," he said bluntly, plopping down on the couch I had just vacated.

  "Get ready for what?"

  "Mr. Knightly has instructed me to bring you to him."

  My heart fluttered a little. "Is he at the house?" I asked, scanning for my purse.

  "I don't feel like answering your questions," he replied. My eyes darted to his cool brown ones. He blinked.

  I raised my eyebrows. "Fine, then," I retorted. I picked up my purse, looked inside to make sure I wasn't missing anything, and flung it onto my shoulder. "Ready."

  Liam's eyes flicked over to me. He was standing by the front door in less than a second. As I made my way over to him, he looked at my hair. "Did you even brush your hair this morning?"

  I tried my best to keep my face neutral as I opened the door. "Ouch," I replied acerbically.

  He stood out into the hallway and lurked behind me as I locked the door. Turning and heading down the stairs, I avoided looking at Will's door. That wound was still very raw. Liam followed me, footsteps silent. Once we were outside, I asked, "So I'll just follow you in Dario's car?"

  One hand running over the top of his gel-slicked hair, he looked down at me. "I'm a vampire," he drawled. "I didn't drive here." He stuck out one pale hand. "Give me the keys to my car."