by C. T. Adams
I turned on the water, shaking my head. I grabbed the shower cap from where I’d stuffed it with the bubble bath bottles under the sink. I have a lot of hair. Washing it would give me time to cool down, but it’d take hours to dry and I was not in the mood to deal with it.
As I got ready for the shower I tried to reason with myself. I knew Joe cared about me and was just trying to protect me.
That line of thought lasted until I stood up. The mirror showed the truth. My loose hair flowed around my face in thick waves. My lipstick was smeared across my chin. The mis-buttoned shirt made me feel like I’d been caught behind the bleachers. I felt like I’d been caught; interrupted. DAMN him! He had no right!
I slammed the cabinet door closed and stalked into the bedroom. A quick glance over the half-wall showed Joe tending my plants. He’d grabbed scissors and was snipping dead leaves. I wanted to bounce something off his head right now. I glanced around the room. My eye lit on the poor innocent wind-up alarm clock on the night stand. If it had known the fate of its predecessors, it would have hid under the bed like a smart clock. One quick swipe and a sudden throw with all of my serving strength made it all worthwhile. No, I didn’t aim it at Joe, though God knew a part of me wanted to. The south wall of the bedroom was the target. The sharp sound of exploding plastic against the brick was followed closely by a bright ‘bing’. A feeble death knell was last and then the shattered clock lay silent on the floor. I glanced over the wall to see Joe standing stock-still with his back to me. He carefully put down the scissors and darted for the kitchen. Point for me. It was childish, but satisfying.
I stepped into the bathroom, closed the bathroom door and stripped. I set the shower head to heavy massage and climbed in, sliding the glass door closed behind me. I stayed under the spray for a long time. I was hoping to relax my knotted shoulder muscles. There’s nothing like interrupted sex to make a girl tense. The hot water heater gave out before the tension did. Not a big surprise. My anger with Joe was useless. He is what he is.
I was fairly confident I could convince Tom he had no competition from Dylan Shea. We should be able to get things back on track. If not, it was going to be a long and miserable lease.
I had been going to blow off Dylan’s meeting, but now I might as well go. I was certainly in the mood for it. I replayed the message in my mind. No matter how hard I tried I could not pinpoint exactly what was wrong. But the message, coming at the same time as the incidents at the airport and the hospital set off alarm bells in my head. And speaking of alarm bells . . . .
I tossed the shower cap back into the cabinet and patted myself dry before wrapping my body in a towel. I grabbed the broom and dustpan from the linen closet and went out to the bedroom and swept up the remains of the clock and tossed it in the trash. Then I walked to the closet and reached up on the shelf for another clock. Hmm. Last one. I’d have to remember to pick up more.
I flipped through the clothes in my closet. What do you wear to meet with the man who you almost married who dumped you for your best friend? Of course I didn’t have to meet with him. I could say no. Hell, I probably should say no. I tried to tell myself that just meeting with Dylan wouldn’t do any harm. I didn’t believe me. And I couldn’t help remembering Dr. MacDougal’s advice. When it came to the Thrall, ignorance was probably not going to be bliss.
I took a deep breath and began getting ready, deliberately taking my time. I needed to calm down before I went downstairs. It was hard. I was so very angry—at Joe, Dylan, and most of all, with myself. I was the one in control of my life, and I’d chosen to bury my head in my work rather than deal with my problems. And my problems might well kill me.
“Courage is doing what you’re afraid to do. There can be no courage unless you’re scared.” I muttered Sister Elizabeth’s favorite quote under my breath. I couldn’t remember who originally said the quote. That would bother me all day until I remembered.
I kept worrying at it while I pulled on my clothes. Black underwear, black jeans, a black silk blouse. I even braided black and silver ribbons in my hair. The dark color made me look wan, so I washed my face and started over, choosing darker, more dramatic blush and lipstick. I looked grim—but grim was not a bad thing. Grim might get my brother to back off. We were certainly going to look like twin goths today. But it would keep Dylan from thinking this was anything but a business meeting. Not that I thought he would try anything. Last I had heard he and Amanda were happily co-habitating in the suburbs.
“Eddie Rickenbacker!” That’s who said the quote.
I hadn’t realized I’d said it out loud until Joe shouted “What?”
“Never mind.” I came down the steps to find Joe staring at the newest photo on the wall.
“Where’s Dylan’s? It was here this morning.”
“And now it’s not. It’s none of your business?”
He motioned toward Tom’s photo. “That’s where I’ve seen him! Mr. August, right? Firehouse Eight?”
“Drop it, Joe.”
“Kate . . .” Joe gave me an awkward, uncomfortable look. “I don’t know if you know, but he’s a werewolf.”
“Yeah. So? You told me that it’s not contagious.”
“But . . .”
I gave him a long stare. He changed subjects. Smart man.
“You’re going to the meeting.” It wasn’t a question. “Won’t that piss off the new boyfriend?” That last was hopeful. He might not want me to pair off with Tom, but he wasn’t above using the possibility to manipulate me into doing what he wanted.
“It isn’t Tom’s decision to make,” I observed coldly. “It’s not yours either.”
Joe straightened to his full height in umbrage at my tone. He pulled his shoulders back and his eyes darkened. “You’re not going alone.” He glared at me. I didn’t wither. I never do. You’d think he’d stop trying to intimidate me but he just can’t seem to help himself. Joe was always bigger than everybody else through school. He’s still big, but a lot of the rest of the kids we knew caught up with him. Me included.
He growled low in his throat, turned on his heel and stomped past me. He flung himself into his usual recliner with a viciousness that made the chair creak in protest. “I shouldn’t have told you.”
“You didn’t, which I am incredibly ticked off about, by the way. Dylan called and left another message.”
Joe used an oath he usually saves for special occasions. I wasn’t shocked. I’ve heard it before. I use it more than he does.
“I can’t believe you didn’t just tell that bastard to go to hell.”
“I did. Years ago.”
“You know what I mean!” Joe’s face flushed with anger so that the freckles all blended together.
“You don’t have to come.”
“Right.” One word, but it was heavy with scorn.
My own eyes darkened. “If you’re going to cause trouble . . .”
“I will not cause trouble.”
“Your word?” That meant something in our family.
He hesitated, then his green eyes narrowed dangerously. “I give you my word.”
“Good.”
He looked me up and down. His features were heavy with disapproval. When he spoke, his voice was almost an octave lower than usual. “I can’t believe you dressed up.”
I didn’t bother to explain. If he wanted to think I was trying to impress Dylan, fine. It was none of his damned business. I love Joe, but he can be an overbearing pain in the ass. More importantly, he doesn’t know the “rules” for dealing with the bad guys. Having him around the Thrall would be a recipe for disaster. Of course we would be out in full daylight. And I didn’t know the Thrall was involved. All I had were a series of unconnected incidents and that little trill of intuition. But until just these last couple of days both my past and the monsters had been leaving me pretty much alone. Having both resurface at once seemed a little too much of a coincidence. And I believe in being prepared. Especially since I could feel the hum of voices
in the back of my head. Daylight or no, some of the hive were awake and aware. That was unusual enough to make me worry.
I opened the coat closet tucked under the stairs. It was going to be a warm day. I’d roast in my black leather biker jacket but decided to wear it anyway. Bernardo’s is air conditioned. Better safe than sorry. Most clothing is just too thin to provide any protection against bites. Biker leathers are thicker and have lots of metal zippers and studs that catch at razor sharp fingernails and teeth. But there were more than just practical reasons for the outfit. I looked intimidating and I looked good. I might not want Dylan back, but a part of me wanted him to regret leaving me. Maybe not even such a small part.
“It’s too hot for leather.” Joe observed.
“I wish you were wearing some.”
He rocked forward in the chair, giving me a long intent look. “Why?” That one word held a world of suspicion.
I shook my head. If I couldn’t pinpoint my misgivings to myself how in the hell could I explain them to him? I turned my back to him so that he couldn’t read my expression. “We’d better go.”
“Kate?”
I didn’t answer and he let it go. I was glad. He pulled himself up from the recliner, stretching in a way that made it clear he was as tense as I was. “Want to take my car?”
“Nah. We’ll walk. Wouldn’t be able to find parking any closer anyway.”
He grunted in acknowledgment. When I pulled on the jacket, he didn’t say a word.
It’s a five-minute walk to Bernardo’s. I play pool there at least once a week. Most of the neighborhood regulars know me by sight. They’ll usually call friendly greetings. Not today. Joe and I got more than a few long stares and nervous glances. I suppose we looked dangerous. The closer we got to the pool hall, the more angry Joe became until the rage roiled in the air around him in an almost visible cloud. He’d given his word. He wouldn’t cause trouble. That didn’t keep him from hoping there’d be some.
We didn’t say anything on the way there. I was doing this. He disapproved. There was no point in arguing. We turned the corner, crossed against the light, and there it was.
Bernardo’s is housed in a section of LoDo that hasn’t become trendy and upscale yet. It’s a long, low red brick building and takes up most of the block. The only windows are high up on the walls and too small to be of any use; particularly since they haven’t been washed since God was a baby. The grime is so thick it’s almost impossible to make out the neon beer advertisements shining behind the glass. Zombies huddled in the shadows, their vacant eyes staring at nothing. The harsh sunlight made the neighborhood look even worse than it really is.
Bernardo’s is neutral territory. You’re liable to run into anything or anyone here—but the monsters will leave you alone so long as you’re on the property. Once you’re one inch outside however, you’re on your own. It’s not a place Joe would normally go, but it didn’t frighten him the way it does most people. It’s a dangerous place, and probably why I like it. There were no Hosts outside the building. I hadn’t exactly expected any—but Dylan is Herd. What he knows, they know. Unless he was strong enough to deliberately block them from his thoughts. I didn’t believe he was.
I checked my watch—12:30.
Joe’s voice made me jump just a bit. “You’re nervous,” he said, his voice tense.
I thought about it a minute as I reached for the door handle. Was I nervous? Yeah. Part of it was my instincts acting up. Paranoia may or may not be part of my psychic abilities. In any event, I understand but don’t always trust my instinct very well.
The Thrall are incredibly dangerous. They would not only know I was coming but what my next move was, unless I concentrated to prevent it. Another part was less pragmatic. It had been a long time since I’d seen Dylan. I want Tom. I think I’m over Dylan. But the fact is there hasn’t been anyone in my life since him. It hurt so damned bad when he left me for her.
Amanda is everything I’m not: petite, dark and delicate. She looks exactly the way I wanted to when I was growing up. In school I caught a lot of crap for being over six foot with the shoulders of a linebacker. I used to slump and slouch, trying to minimize my height and shoulders. I outgrew that habit when I started watching the videotapes of my volleyball games. I was pretty damn good and everyone else was as tall as me.
Now I sort of like my build. Probably a good thing since there isn’t much I can do about it. Regular work-outs, running and martial arts keep everything taut and toned. I’d started on a strict regimen back when I played. I’ve kept it up because I’m vain enough to appreciate how well my body has held up compared to the rest of my peers at our class reunion.
Joe gave a cough of annoyance, which brought my mind back to the present. Old, best-forgotten memories were making me spacey. I couldn’t afford that. I needed my wits to be sharp and they just weren’t. I opened the door and we stepped inside.
I blinked, letting my eyes adjust to the relative darkness. Even over the throbbing bass of the latest rap music I could hear the crack of billiard balls breaking and the murmur of voices. When I could see again, I looked around. There were plenty of patrons, but not a real crowd. I gave a friendly wave to Leo. I was glad Leo was the bouncer-slash-manager on duty. He’s about 5’ 10”, but built as solid as a brick wall. The prison-blue sleeve tattoos and eyebrow piercings give him character. His eyebrows and goatee are a medium brown. His head is shaved to a perfect, shining smoothness. He looks like the bad-ass he is. Not a bad thing in a bouncer. A lot of jerks think twice before causing trouble with Leo around. He probably qualifes as Prey to the Thrall, but nobody’s ever bothered him.
His hands were full of empties as he walked toward us, giving an approving glance and nod to my clothes. Predators like other predators.
“How you doin’, gorgeous? Been a few days.” He leaned in and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, keeping the half-full glasses safely away from me. It brought a look of disgust to Joe’s face. He covered it before Leo saw. That’s probably best. Joe probably never even noticed that Leo had sized him up, memorized him, and determined that he could kick his ass before a word was spoken.
“Just back from a run. This is my brother Joe.”
Leo nodded briefly in his direction. “I sort of figured from the hair.”
I motioned to the glasses in his hands. “Your bar-back not show up again?” Normally managers don’t do the dishes here unless someone calls in sick.
He let out a frustrated sigh. “Him and the morning manager. Damned kids. The two little shits got in a money game last night and won. Them and their stakes spent the whole night celebrating. I was supposed to be off-shift an hour ago.”
I winced. That’s a long damn night. But I knew the morning manager. It’s when I normally come in. “Bobby’s a pretty good 9-ball player, though, Leo. He could make it to Vegas.”
“Probably. That’s what the boss says, too. But it doesn’t wash my dishes or get me any shut-eye.” I shrugged my condolences. He shook his head before moving off again.
I checked out the room and then steered a course to a bar box in the farthest corner of the building. It was the closest thing we were going to get to privacy and I like walls at my back. Joe followed without a word. The waitress appeared like magic as I was sliding quarters into the pool table. Joe ordered a beer for himself and a Coke for me. Diet was probably better for my health, but I was hoping that the combination of sugar and caffeine would give me back my edge.
I racked the balls. For the next half-hour or so Joe and I killed time playing 8-ball. He won.
At precisely 1:15 the front door swung open. Two men stood blinking in the doorway as their eyes adjusted. One of them was Dylan.
He still looked good. There was a little bit of gray in the wild black curls, and a few crinkles at the corners of sapphire blue eyes. It didn’t detract a bit. He was wearing the brown leather bomber jacket I’d bought him a lifetime ago and worn blue jeans that were tight enough that I could tell he still
went to the gym regularly. That startled me a little. He’d been a member of the Herd for a long time now. After one or two years most Herd members look like junkies and suffer from malnutrition. Maybe living in the farthest suburbs kept his master from calling him too often. Perhaps my negotiations with the queens had really saved him. Or maybe Monica was keeping him to use against me. There was no way of knowing.
I expected to feel a tug on the old heartstrings. I didn’t. It was a welcome relief. I found myself wearing a genuine smile as the two of them got their bearings and headed back to our table.
“Thanks for coming.” Dylan extended his hand and I shook it. “Sorry we’re late.” He grimaced, “I forgot how bad parking is down here. Good to see you, Joe.” He gave his best dimpled smile to my brother who uttered a noncommittal grunt. Joe did at least thaw enough to shake the hand extended to him.
“No problem.” I forced myself to hold on to the smile. It wasn’t easy. Something about the man standing in Dylan’s shadow bothered me. He was good looking in an ordinary way. Middle aged and well dressed in a navy suit that cost more than Edna and my motorcycle combined. His hair was thinning, but beautifully coiffed in an attempt to hide the fact. His ice-blue eyes looked at me with distaste. Whatever he’d been expecting, I’d apparently lived down to it.
Joe glanced at the man and raised his eyebrows just a bit. I didn’t know why, but it seemed significant, because he looked . . . well, impressed. I let the smile slide from my face, leaving my eyes hard and cold. I didn’t really care who he was, but I didn’t like the feel and smell of him. Expensive cologne couldn’t quite cover . . . something. He made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I didn’t ignore the psychic scream of warning. I’m alive because of my instincts and my power. Oh, and brains. The brains help.
A nervous tic had started above Dylan’s left eye. It was obvious he was tense but his voice was controlled as he made the necessary introductions. “This is my brother-in-law Matt Quinn. He’s Amanda’s brother. Matt, this is the woman I told you about.”