Dark Obsession

by Amanda Stevens

  Dear God. Erin sat down weakly on the couch, clenching her hands tightly into fists to try to stop the trembling. It couldn’t have been Megan’s voice. Her sister was dead and buried. She couldn’t have come back. It wasn’t possible. Things like that only happened in Erin’s books. The monsters only lived in her dreams. They weren’t real. They couldn’t be real. And Megan couldn’t call to her from the grave.

  Don’t leave me, sissy. Not again.

  The pitiful little voice haunted Erin’s thoughts. Was she losing her mind? Had she dwelled in the nightmares of her past, lived in the pages of her horror books for so long that she could no longer distinguish between fantasy and reality? Was her guilt pushing her farther and farther into the darkness?

  She told herself to get up and check the doors and windows, just as Slade had ordered her to do, but Erin couldn’t bring herself to do it. She didn’t want to admit how truly terrified she was. Didn’t want to give in to that fear, because if she did, if she allowed herself to believe—

  The doorbell sounded and Erin’s heart jumped. She got up, took a quick look out the window, then went to open the door.

  The moment she drew back the door, Slade swore violently. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, opening your door without even asking who’s on the other side? I could have been the murderer, for all you knew.”

  Erin took one look at his grim countenance, his dark facade, and silently agreed. He could have been the murderer. “I saw your car parked outside,” she said.

  He didn’t bother to respond, but strode into the living room. “What happened?”

  Erin closed the door and followed him inside. “It was probably nothing. My imagination…”

  When her words trailed away, Slade scowled at her. “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”

  Erin discovered that her legs were still shaking, and she sat down. His tone suddenly made her want to cry, and she turned her head so he couldn’t see her face. “Someone activated my recorder while I was out. I heard…voices…” She faltered, then whispered, “I heard Megan’s voice, Nick.”

  “On the tape recorder?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where is it?”

  “In the bedroom,” Erin said. “But there’s no use trying to play it back. It’s been erased.”

  He stared down at her. “Why did you do that?”

  “I didn’t do it. It…erased all by itself.” She pushed her hair from her face with a trembling hand. Before he could respond, she lifted her tortured eyes to his and said, “I know that’s impossible. I know I couldn’t have seen…what I thought I saw.”

  “Exactly what did you see?”

  She twisted her hands in her lap. “I saw a face in my bedroom window. There aren’t any fire escapes outside that window. No balconies, either. But I saw her. I saw Megan!”

  “That’s impossible,” Slade said. “You couldn’t have. I took care—” He broke off, turned away.

  “What do you mean?” Erin said. “What did you start to say?” When he turned around to face her, Erin thought she had never seen an expression so grim, a mouth so harsh. She started to tremble at his look, but she wouldn’t let herself look away, wouldn’t allow herself to back down. She had to know the truth. All of it. “Tell me!” she cried.

  “Megan is dead,” he said heavily. “She can’t come back, Erin. Believe me. Trust me.”

  “How can I trust you?” Erin whispered. “I know you’re keeping something from me. I know you aren’t telling me the complete truth.”

  “Listen to me,” Slade commanded as he sat down beside her. He grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face him. “You need to get out of here. You need to get as far away from this place as fast as you possibly can. There’s no reason for you to stay.”

  “There’s every reason to stay,” Erin said desperately, wrenching herself away from him. She got up and stood looking down at him. “I can’t leave now. I can’t leave Megan.”

  “She’s dead, for God’s sake! You can’t help her now.”

  “But I can,” Erin insisted. “Don’t you see? I can help her rest in peace. That’s what she wants. That’s what she needs—”

  Slade swore viciously as he jumped to his feet, grabbing her arms as if to shake some sense into her. “Damn it, Erin, nothing’s worth putting yourself in this much danger. You have no idea what you’re dealing with, what could happen to you. You have no earthly idea….”

  “Then tell me,” she begged. “Tell me the truth.”

  His scarred hands fell away from her arms. “Just go. Get the hell away from this city. From me.”

  “You talk as if you’re the murderer,” Erin whispered in a raw voice. “You talk as if I should be scared of you.” Slade spun and walked toward the door without uttering a word. Erin gazed at his back for only a split second before she caught up with him. She clutched his arm. “Should I be scared of you? Answer me, damn you.”

  He stared down at her, and even though Erin still clung to his arm, he suddenly seemed a million miles away from her. “Yes,” he said, and Erin thought she had never heard a word sound so bleak, so chilling.

  “You’re not the murderer,” she said in a deceptively calm voice.

  “You think I’m not capable of killing?”

  He was. Instinctively Erin knew that without a doubt. A shiver raced through her, a dark and dangerous thrill. “I think you’re probably capable of just about anything,” she acknowledged.

  “That’s reason enough to run, isn’t it?”

  “I’m through running,” Erin said, her voice trembling yet angry.

  “Then God help you.” He lifted a battered hand and brushed the knuckles down her face. It was a soft touch, excruciatingly fleeting. Erin caught his hand when he would have moved away, and her lips skimmed his scarred flesh.

  Slade jerked his hand back. “Don’t,” he said, his voice cold. “Don’t play with fire unless you want to get burned.”

  He gazed down at her, and the power of the moment frightened Erin. She took one step away from him, but his hand shot out and cupped the back of her neck. He pulled her to him, slowly, deliberately, his shuttered eyes holding her in bondage. She couldn’t move away if her life—or her soul—depended on it. His mouth looked savage and predatory as he moved his lips downward, to hers.

  “Too late,” he whispered, when she made a desperate attempt to escape. “Too late now to run.”

  Slade’s hand tangled in her hair, holding her as he moved in to claim his victory. At first, his lips merely grazed hers with a light, teasing motion, but a bolt of lightning shot through Erin’s veins, heating her blood, quickening her pulse. Her heart thundered against her breast.

  She was going to swoon, Erin thought, amazed that she even knew such an old-fashioned word, more astonished still that she was going to do it. To have him so close, to have him touching her, kissing her as though she belonged to him. Only him—

  Erin hadn’t been aware of moving, but suddenly she felt the door behind her back. She was pressed against the wood, and Slade’s hands were planted on either side of her head, imprisoning her. His mouth found hers again, and this time the action was neither gentle nor teasing. His tongue stroked hers, coaxing a response she couldn’t deny him. He pressed his body against hers, and Erin could feel how hot and hard and ready he was for her. Her senses ignited as she felt her body moving against his.

  His hand slid between them and closed over her breast. Erin gasped, frightened by the erotic sensations racing through her. Her hand flew up to grasp his wrist. She tore her mouth from his. “Don’t,” she said breathlessly.

  “What’s the matter? The fire getting too hot for you?” His mouth was only an inch from hers. Erin knew he could claim her again whenever he wanted. And she knew she wouldn’t be able to resist. Her hand trembled on his wrist.

  “It’s too soon,” she protested.

  “You’re wrong. It’s almost too late,” he warned, his voice husky. “In another minu
te—”

  Erin’s heart was pounding so loudly she thought for a moment he’d heard it. He was pulling away from her, however, and dimly she became aware of another noise. The telephone was ringing.

  A change came over him swiftly. He straightened, looking at once dark and dangerous and in control. He looked as if the past few moments hadn’t occurred at all. “I left this number with the station,” he said. “It’s probably for me.”

  Erin’s heart was still beating against her breast. Butterflies danced in her stomach, and her lips felt bruised and swollen and aching for more of his kisses. Shaken by the sensations, she watched as he strode across the room and jerked up the receiver. He listened for a minute or two, his expression growing even darker, and when he hung up the phone, Erin knew something else had happened. Something bad.

  “What is it?”

  “Maybe now you’ll listen to reason,” he said slowly, walking toward her. “Maybe now you’ll leave.”

  “What’s happened?” she asked. The lingering excitement in her stomach turned to fear.

  He gazed at her, his emotions hidden. “There’s been another killing.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Slade took Erin with him. There was no way he was going to leave her behind again. Not until daylight, at least. He parked on Fifth Avenue near two patrol cars with flashing lights, and together he and Erin got out. Without a word, they walked through the Washington Arch, toward the group of people huddled near the center of the square.

  He glanced down at Erin. What was she thinking? he wondered. What was this doing to her after what she had been through?

  Suddenly he wanted more than anything to reach out to her, to draw her into his arms and protect her against the darkness out there, the evil that had touched her life. But how could he? He was a part of that evil, and no matter how many books she wrote, Erin could never really understand what it was like to live in complete darkness, the way Slade had to live.

  As if sensing his despair, she touched his sleeve, and he looked down at the smooth, unmarred flesh of her hand. Her face was pale, her eyes frightened. “Nick, I don’t think—”

  He nodded in understanding. “Wait here,” he said, then strode through the darkness toward the crime scene. The crowd of officers parted as he approached.

  Slade stared down at the body for a moment, the feeling of dread tightening like a noose around his neck. He knew her. He knew the victim. He’d seen her at the club. He’d warned her away, just as he had the others.

  Outwardly impassive, Slade knelt and tilted the young woman’s head. Two trickles of blood ran down her neck and back into her hair. Her eyes were closed, but he remembered how they had looked in life, and he knew how they would look if she opened them again in death. He would have to get her to the morgue as quickly as possible. He would have to see to it that she couldn’t come back.

  Slade lifted his head, listening to the night, to the wind rustling through the trees. The breeze, he thought. The breeze felt the way it had the night Megan Ramsey had died.

  And the night Simone had died.

  From a distance, Erin watched Nick as he knelt and examined the body. A shudder ripped through her as she remembered another night, another body. Megan, she silently implored, help us find him. Help us stop him.

  Overhead the wind stirred in the trees, and Erin shivered. It sounded like whispers, she thought. Like the moans of despair from a thousand restless souls.

  She remembered when she and Megan were little how their mother had told them about the bodies buried beneath Washington Square. “Thousands,” Desiree had said, “waiting to come up and grab little girls like you who don’t listen to their mothers.”

  Even the simple, childish pleasure of playing outdoors had been taken from her because whenever Erin had entered Washington Square, all she could think about were the thousands of bodies upon whose graves she trod. She could feel those invisible eyes watching her, waiting for her to disobey her mother. She could almost feel their arms reaching up through the earth to grab her and take her back down with them.

  We’ve been waiting for you, Erin.

  Erin shivered at the voice inside her head. Eyes were watching her now, she thought. Hands were reaching for her, but the darkness hid them. The darkness hid all things that didn’t want to be seen, didn’t want to be revealed.

  Mist twisted and coiled in the wind, giving the whole scene a strange movement. Erin’s legs grew unstable and she swayed, as light-headed as if she were standing on the prow of a ship. She reached out for support, but found nothing but air.

  Erin.

  At first Erin thought Nick was calling to her, and she felt an enormous wave of relief flood over her. But through the darkness, she saw that he remained near the body as the officer nearest him continued to talk to him. She’d only imagined someone had called her. The wind was playing tricks on her—

  Errinn!

  Erin whipped around, searching the night. There it was again, that plaintive call that clawed at her heart. “Megan.” She whispered the name out loud, but the wind tore away the sound. It was so cold out here, so silent. Erin could almost hear the sound of her heart thumping. Wasn’t it her own heart she heard?

  The rhythmic beating echoed off the wall of mist, so loud now that Erin had to cover her ears with her hands. A thousand hearts pounded beneath her, clamoring for her to come to them, to join their dark ranks. Over and over again they chanted her name. Erin. Erin. Erin.

  She lowered her hands from her ears and whispered again, “Megan? Where are you?”

  I’m here, Erin. Don’t leave me. Don’t ever leave me again.

  The voice was real this time. No longer inside her head, it swept down through the trees and penetrated Erin’s soul. Erin turned, searching the darkness. “Where?”

  This way.

  As if in a daze, Erin started walking toward the street, toward a shadowy courtyard at the side of a redbrick building. A movement in the enclosure caught her eye. A figure stood at the fringes of the darkness, tantalizing Erin with hardly more than a glimpse. “Megan?”

  “We’ve been waiting for you, Erin.” Another voice this time. A dark, male voice, liquid with seduction.

  A dangerous languor slipped over her. Erin tried to fight it, tried to resist, but she knew deep inside she couldn’t. She’d known all along. Try as she might to ward off the monsters, she’d always known that it was only a matter of time before they would come for her.

  Before she would join them.

  You belong to us, Erin. You’ve always belonged to us. Come. Your sister is waiting for you.

  Erin took another step toward that voice. For just a moment, a cloud blocked the moon, casting the earth in complete blackness. Then it moved away, and moonlight spilled across the square, silvering the mist with a soft, sterling glow. Closer and closer Erin drew toward that place of shadows, to the darkness that lay beyond…and to that beckoning figure that spoke to her soul.

  “Erin, no!”

  “Let me go!” She tried to shake away the hand that held her arm, but the grip tightened. She looked up into Slade’s hidden gaze. “Didn’t you hear her?” she asked desperately. “Didn’t you hear her calling to me?”

  “Hear who?” Slade’s fingers dug into her arm when she didn’t answer. “Hear who, Erin? Answer me, damn it! What’s the matter with you?”

  “I don’t know.” Her head was clearing now. She lifted a shaking hand to her temple. “I feel so…strange…so weak.”

  He was holding both her arms, gripping her so tightly that panic bubbled to life inside her. “Tell me what you heard,” he demanded in a voice that made shivers run up and down her spine. “Tell me exactly what you heard.”

  Tell him nothing!

  And at that moment, Erin understood exactly why she couldn’t tell him. Why she couldn’t leave New York. Her sister was here, no matter what Nick said. And together they—she and Megan—would find Megan’s killer.

  * * *

  Er
in was quiet on the way home, and strangely calm. Slade cast her a worried glance. What was she thinking? What was she feeling? She seemed so…different.

  As if reading his thoughts, Erin turned and met his gaze. She was smiling a little half smile that made his blood run cold. She didn’t look like Erin at all. She looked like Megan. Like Simone.

  “What happened back there?” he asked suddenly into the silence. “What did you see?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You said you heard Megan calling to you.”

  “Megan’s dead,” she said. There was nothing in her voice that gave away her emotion—no hint of grief, just that awful calm, that terrible acceptance.

  “Erin—”

  “Don’t worry about me, Nick. I’ll be fine. I know what to do now.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She smiled again. “You’ve told me often enough. I’ll keep my windows and doors locked. I won’t invite anyone inside.”

  She said the right words, but Slade still felt chilled. “No one,” he reiterated. “That’s crucial, Erin.”

  “Yes, I realize that now.”

  Where was the fear he’d witnessed earlier? The panic he’d seen in her eyes? With something of a shock, Slade realized that she was actually humming softly to herself, a little singsong tune that seemed hauntingly familiar. What had happened back there? he asked himself desperately. What the hell had happened?

  He pulled up in front of her apartment and walked her to the door. He went in with her, searching the apartment as he always did before he left. “It’s almost dawn,” he said. “You’ll be safe now.”

  “Yes,” she agreed, “I’ll be safe.”

  But there was something in her eyes….

  Slade hated to leave her. He felt an almost overwhelming compulsion to draw her into his arms and hold her tightly, until the sun was shining all around them. But he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t face the sunlight, even for Erin.

  He bent suddenly, urgently, and brushed his lips against hers. She clung to him only for a moment, but her response was oddly reassuring. She trailed her fingertips across his cheeks, skirting the bottom of his glasses. “Don’t worry, Nick,” she said again. “I know what to do.”