She was smiling at him, and for a moment Slade let his gaze drift back to her mouth. Something gleamed in the darkness, and he knew that her teeth were growing longer, sharper, preparing for the kill. “Nick,” she whispered. “Just a little closer.”
“Who did this to you?” he asked as she moved slowly toward him, seemingly gliding on air, no longer earthbound.
“Don’t you know?”
I’ll see you in hell, Slade.
The voice in his head was so powerful, so intense, that for an instant Slade’s guard was lowered. Christina’s cold touch brought him back. Already she was upon him. He couldn’t afford to let his mind wander. He knew that. But…
Her fingers fluttered against his face, and Slade shuddered. Her lips curled back, revealing her fangs. She lifted her head toward his neck.
Slade moved the stake between them, and the moment Christina lowered her mouth to his neck, he plunged it through her heart with all his might. She staggered back, clutching at the stake, trying to withdraw it from her body. Her features contorted, revealing her horror and pain, but she didn’t make a sound. She didn’t have to. Slade heard the echo of a thousand screams inside his own head.
She fell to the ground, and he knelt beside her, cradling her slight body in his arms. Her eyes were closed, and he saw that it was only with a great deal of effort that she managed to open them. They were clear blue again. Sweet and innocent.
“Nick,” she whispered. “Thank you, Nick.” And then her eyes closed for the last time.
Slade staggered to his feet. His whole body was shaking as he made his way back to the old man’s body. Quickly he repeated what he’d done to Christina, then rose and stumbled out of the alley.
He paused for a moment, leaning against the side of a building as he fought the darkness washing over him. Images raced through his mind. Screams and pleas filled his head. Visions of blood, warm and flowing, flooded through his mind, and he was only dimly aware of the scream of sirens in the distance.
He had warned Megan Ramsey away from the darkness, and she was dead. He had warned Christina Harris, and now she was dead, too. That was what she had meant when she said she couldn’t afford to be seen with him.
Who would be next? he thought in dawning horror. Who would die next because of him?
Suddenly an image of Erin’s face floated through his mind. She was looking up at him with those eyes that looked like violets and those lips that looked so soft and tender and sweet. She was more beautiful and more desirable than any other woman he’d ever known before.
And at that moment he knew he would do anything to save her from the darkness that had claimed Simone and Megan and now Christina. He would do anything to protect her, but what if he couldn’t? What if he failed her as he had all the others?
I’ll see you in hell, Slade.
“You’re dead,” Slade muttered aloud, but the cold black premonition wouldn’t go away.
The sirens grew louder as two police cars screeched to a halt in front of the alley. Slade watched the officers emerge, weapons drawn, as they headed across the street toward him. Then he turned and without a word melted back into the shadows.
If he stayed, there would be questions he couldn’t answer. Questions that would arouse old suspicions. Questions that could put him in the limelight once more. He didn’t want to go through that kind of scrutiny again, not now. Not when there was so much to hide.
But more than that, he knew he had to remain free to hunt the darkness, to stalk the evil that now stalked him.
* * *
Erin spent a sleepless night. She kept hearing noises in the apartment, kept hearing the pipes banging in the basement, and she remembered that as a child she had always thought the monsters in the basement were creating that sound just to torment her, just to let her know that they were down there waiting for her.
She kept thinking about Nick. About how he had kissed her and how she had wanted him to. Time and again she relived the thrill of the moment when his lips had first touched hers.
She couldn’t get involved with him. She knew that. Apart from the ethical question of the case, Erin had long ago resolved to live her life alone. There were too many unanswered questions in her life, too many unresolved issues from her past. She’d learned the hard way that dragging all that baggage into a relationship could only end in disaster, in more heartache. Better just to live her life alone.
But sometimes…sometimes in the dead of night, when she grew weary of fighting her demons, Erin wondered what it would be like to share her life with someone who understood about nightmares. What would it be like to turn to someone special and have him hold her in his arms until the sun came up. Sometimes she couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to be loved. Really loved…
At dawn she finally dozed off. It was late when she woke up, and she hurriedly showered and dressed. She had a lot to do today. In spite of Nick’s warnings, Erin had every intention of tracing the last few days of her sister’s life, to put at least one demon in her life to rest.
So, for the next few days, Erin walked the streets that Megan had walked, visited the clothing stores where Megan had shopped, browsed through the music stores she knew Megan had frequented. She immersed herself in Megan’s life, storing up bits and pieces of information that she knew might somehow be important in completing the picture of her sister’s life.
And at night she sat alone in the apartment, waiting for dawn, waiting for Nick to call. But he didn’t.
By day, Erin continued her mission. Several of the salespersons in the shops recognized her immediately, mistaking her for Megan. The first time it happened, Erin had been disturbed, then strangely excited. If people mistook her for Megan, they might let slip a clue, a hint that could help bring her sister’s murderer to justice.
As Erin walked home one afternoon, the sights and sounds of the city assailed her senses. Rock music blared from boom boxes in Washington Square, and the crowded little cafés and bistros overflowed onto the streets with the first wave of well-dressed young men and women winding down after a hectic day on Wall Street. It was a pleasant scene, typical and unthreatening.
Yet in the fading light of day, Erin experienced a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach. Some omen warned her things were not always what they seemed.
“Erin? Is that you? Erin, wait up!”
It took a moment for the voice to register. Erin half turned to see Racine DiMeneci striding across the street toward her. Racine wore a black wool cape that swirled around her in the wind, and in the late-afternoon sunlight, her hair blazed like fire.
She eyed Erin speculatively as she fell into step beside her. “I thought it was you, but…you look different today,” she said uncertainly. “It’s your hair. You’re wearing it down, like Megan used to.”
Erin self-consciously fingered the windblown curls. “I didn’t have time to put it up,” she said. “How are you, Racine?”
Racine shook her head, frowning. “It’s amazing,” she said, ignoring Erin’s question. “The resemblance was always striking, but now it’s…it’s positively uncanny. I thought for a moment when I first saw you that you were Megan. Isn’t that her coat?”
Was that suspicion Erin heard in her voice? Just the barest hint of accusation? “I didn’t bring anything heavy enough for this weather,” Erin said defensively. “It was eighty degrees when I left Los Angeles.”
“Novembers in New York can be hell,” Racine agreed absently. She paused, then said, “I couldn’t help noticing that Detective Slade brought you home a few nights ago.”
Erin felt the pulse in her throat give a little leap at the mention of his name. Ever since that night she’d been trying to keep at bay memories of his kiss, but with little success. Even now she felt her face grow warm as his image materialized in her mind. She saw the dark way he’d looked at her just before he kissed her, and her blood raced. She took a deep breath, willing away the unfamiliar sensations Nick’s kiss had released ins
ide her, the disappointment that he hadn’t called her since. It was almost as if he was avoiding her, she thought.
Racine’s voice cut into her thoughts. “Any news on the investigation?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Does that mean you’ll be going back to L.A., then?” Out of the corner of her eye, Erin saw Racine slant her an anxious glance.
“I haven’t made any immediate plans,” Erin said with a shrug. “There’s still a lot to be done here. I’m sure you understand.”
“Of course.” But Racine didn’t sound too sure. She took Erin’s arm and pulled her to a stop.
Erin turned to face her in surprise. “What’s the matter?”
Racine looked distressed. “I’m afraid you’ll think I’m butting in where I have no business.”
“Is this about the case?” Erin asked sharply.
“In a way. It’s about Detective Slade.”
Erin’s heart sped up again. Had Racine seen them that night? Had she witnessed their kiss? “What about him?”
Racine chewed her lip, obviously embarrassed. “I couldn’t help seeing you the other night,” she confirmed. “I wasn’t trying to spy on you, honest I wasn’t, but his car was parked right out front and I…well…”
“It’s okay,” Erin murmured.
“No, it isn’t. I mean, it isn’t okay that you were with him. Oh, God, I’m babbling,” she said, rolling her eyes heavenward. “I never babble. It’s just…”
“What?”
“I’m worried about you, Erin. I don’t think you should let yourself get too close to that man. To Slade.”
Erin stared at her. “Why?”
“Because I don’t trust him,” Racine said. “I can’t explain it. Maybe it’s just those dark glasses he wears all the time, but for some reason I keep thinking that I know him from somewhere.”
Erin remained silent. Racine’s words had echoed an uneasiness already simmering inside her. She wasn’t completely sure she trusted Nick, either, but for some reason, Racine’s warning annoyed her. She said coolly, “You don’t have to worry about me. I’ve been on my own for a long time. I can take care of myself.”
Racine’s green eyes clouded with worry. She shook her head. “That’s just what Megan used to say,” she returned. She gripped Erin’s arm for a moment longer, then released her. “I have to run now, Erin, but please think about what I said. There’s something very unnatural about a man who keeps his eyes covered from the world. It makes me wonder what he’s trying to hide.”
Erin stood for a moment, watching Racine disappear into the crowd on the street.
“It makes me wonder what he’s trying to hide.”
If Erin was truthful with herself, she would have to admit that she’d wondered the same thing. She thought about the scars on his hands and wondered if perhaps his eyes had been scarred, too. Perhaps he was self-conscious about the way he looked? But there was certainly no need to be. Erin had never met a man so darkly attractive in her life. She’d never known anyone who had affected her so deeply. The scars on his hands were far from repulsive to her. They seemed like an affirmation of life. They seemed strong and capable and oddly comforting.
Across the street, the colorful wares of a flower vendor caught her eye, and Erin expertly dodged through the traffic, ignoring the blast of horns as though she’d never been away from the city’s traffic.
The old woman tending the open-air stall was wearing a faded purple skirt and an NYU sweatshirt. She beamed a ragged smile as Erin browsed through the flowers. “How did the roses do, hon?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“The roses you bought last Friday,” the old woman said. “The red ones.”
Erin realized that the flower lady, like so many other people that day, was mistaking her for Megan. Then she realized something else. Her sister had bought roses on the day she’d been murdered. If Erin hadn’t been dressed the way she was dressed, she never would have learned that information.
“They died,” she murmured, selecting another dozen roses and fishing in her purse for the correct change.
The woman shook her head sadly as she accepted Erin’s money. “For all their beauty, roses are very delicate, you know. They just don’t seem to last long enough, do they?”
Erin made a noncommittal reply and retraced her steps across the street, heading toward home. The sun had set now, and the chill of twilight settled around her. She hurried her pace, wanting to get inside before dark. Shadows were already falling across the street, casting the whole neighborhood in an aura of deep gloom.
The back of her neck prickled in a now-familiar way. Erin turned and hastily scanned the street, but nothing seemed amiss. Darkness was falling quickly, reason enough for her uneasiness. She shivered, then ran up the stairs of the apartment building and stepped quickly inside.
The hallway lay in deep shade. Erin paused, catching her breath before making the climb to Megan’s apartment. Almost inadvertently her gaze strayed to the basement staircase. There was an apartment below, but she didn’t know if it was occupied or not. Years ago it had always remained vacant. “Only monsters live there,” she heard Desiree whisper in her mind. “Don’t go down there, Erin. They’re waiting for you.”
As with so many other things, both Erin and Megan had always been terrified of that basement, but wasn’t that one of the reasons she’d come back here? To face the monsters from her past?
Erin set her packages down in the hallway and took a cautious step toward the top of the stairs. For a long moment, she stood staring down into the almost complete blackness. Go on, she urged herself. Prove to yourself once and for all that Desiree was wrong. There’s nothing to be afraid of down there.
She put a hand on the railing and stepped down. The stair creaked, sending a chill up her spine. “Coward,” she muttered, descending a few steps more. Near the bottom she paused, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness. Several discarded boxes were stacked against a wall, and to the left of the staircase, a door stood slightly ajar. The air smelled musty and dank, and a slight breeze fluttered Erin’s hair, as if a window stood open somewhere. The door moved slightly, and Erin jumped. Then something brushed against her ankle, and she very nearly had a heart attack.
She felt the softness again, then heard a meow. Erin let out a shaky laugh. The cat’s eyes glowed in the dark as it gazed up plaintively at Erin, reminding her chillingly of the eyes she’d seen the night Megan died.
“You almost sent me to an early grave,” she admonished, and the cat meowed again. Erin bent and tentatively stroked the silky fur. The cat relaxed for a moment under her ministrations, but suddenly the hair on its back stood on end as its head shot up. Then, before Erin could react, a razor-sharp claw shot out and scratched the back of her hand. Like an arrow, the cat flew past her and disappeared somewhere in the darkness beneath the stairs.
Erin cried out at the sharp sting on her hand, automatically lifting it to her mouth. Then her arm froze in midair as she heard a faint sound coming from the other side of the door. She stood dead still, listening to the whispers of movement, as if something—or someone—was stirring about inside.
Probably rats, she told herself, but a heavy sense of unease assailed her. Perhaps she wasn’t as ready to face the monsters as she’d thought.
Nursing her bleeding hand, Erin turned to flee, but someone stood at the top of the stairs, completely blocking her path.
CHAPTER SEVEN
He had the most uncanny ability to materialize from thin air, Erin thought fleetingly. To appear suddenly with the darkness.
“Erin?”
Her heart began to pound even harder at the sound of Slade’s voice. Slowly she mounted the stairs toward him. Through the glass door behind him, Erin saw that night had fallen in earnest since she’d come in, and once again she thought how very much a part of the night he seemed. The dark glasses, the leather coat, the grim expression—all created an air of mystery, of danger. Erin shivered again, ju
st watching him, the memory of his kiss coming back to her. Along with the fact that he hadn’t called her in three days.
She brushed by him and bent to pick up her packages. The roses already looked a little droopy, she noticed absently.
“What were you doing down there?” Slade asked when she turned back to face him.
“I heard a noise,” Erin said.
“So you went to check it out?” His voice was grim, his expression even more dangerous. “And what if it had been the murderer down there, waiting for you?”
“Don’t go down there, Erin. They’re waiting for you.”
She shrugged off Slade’s hand. “There was nothing waiting for me down there but a bad-tempered cat,” she said, lifting her hand up to inspect the scratch.
“Let me see that.” His hand shot out and captured hers. Beads of blood dotted the skin, but the sting of the scratch receded against the warmth of his touch. “You’d better put something on it,” he said, dropping her hand abruptly as if he, too, had felt the heat.
“I was just about to. Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?” He didn’t look pleased to see her, Erin thought. Behind his dark glasses, she knew he was frowning at her.
“Why are you dressed like that?”
Erin’s hand reflexively flew to her loosened hair. “Like…what?”
“Like your sister.”
“How would you know how Megan dressed?” Erin asked quickly. He didn’t say a word at first, merely stared at her, and then Erin realized that he’d seen Megan’s body after she’d died. Perhaps he didn’t want to remind her of that night. She turned and started up the stairway. “You’d be surprised how many people have mistaken me for her in the past few days.”
“Is that what you want?” He followed her up the stairs.
She glanced at him over her shoulder as she unlocked the door. “It can be useful.”
“In what way?”
“In tracing the last days of Megan’s life.” She turned to face him, her chin lifted in defiance. But his response took her totally off guard.
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