by Hannah Jayne
Alex snatched his coat from the back of his chair. “No. I Googled the phone number.”
Alex peeled out of the police department parking lot with sirens blaring. The few cars on the city roads eased to the side to let us pass, and Alex kept the gas pedal flush with the floor of the car the second we hit the freeway on-ramp. He gestured to the flashing lights and sirens above us as we overtook a Yellow Cab, slow with wide-eyed tourists and their world of luggage.
“These things are so convenient.”
“Let me guess—another perk they didn’t have when you were here last?”
“Something like that.”
We sped down the freeway in silence; Alex hadn’t mentioned the exact address from which Ophelia’s call originated—he didn’t have to. We both knew it had come from my father’s house in Marin County. My heart started to thunder in my throat as we took the Sir Francis Drake exit and wound through the quaint city of Marin, most of its residents barely roused, despite the sunny morning.
“She’d better not hurt her,” I muttered, gritting my teeth until my temples hurt.
“It’s you that Ophelia wants,” Alex said, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. “She’s just using Nina to get to you.”
“Does that mean she won’t hurt her?” I asked hopefully.
“No.”
We turned down the tree-lined street to my father’s house. Alex parked skewed in the driveway and leaned over me in the front seat.
“What are you—”
He popped open the glove box and pulled out a handgun, slipping it into his waistband. He slipped a short-handled knife with a fat blade into a leather sheaf wrapped around his ankle. Then he looked at me.
“Do you still have the stun gun?”
I shook my head miserably. “No. I lost it in the fire.”
He sucked in a breath and then ducked between my legs. I had heard that life-and-death situations made people randy, but personally, I really wasn’t in the mood. “Alex! Now?”
But Alex came up with a small black gun in his hand.
“I always keep a spare,” he said, checking the magazine. He handed the gun to me and pushed the black metal gun box back under my seat.
“Remind me not to use the vanity mirror,” I said as we crept out of the car. “What does it do—launch a hand grenade?”
“No, cyanide powder.”
I wasn’t sure if he was joking, but I made a mental note not to check.
I tried to tuck my small loaner gun in my waistband like Alex had done, but one too many donuts prevented that. Besides, I had the kind of luck that meant I would be shooting off my privates halfway through our daring rescue. Instead, I slipped the gun into my sweatshirt pocket. The butt of the gun was already damp from my sweating palms.
“What are we going to do?” I whispered to Alex as he steered me flat against the garage. “Do we knock?”
Alex’s brows rose. “Really? You ask me if I triangulated a cell phone call to pinpoint Ophelia’s location, and then you ask if we knock?”
“Right. We barrel roll through the front window.”
“No more cop shows for you. I go check it out, you stay right here.” Alex put both hands on my shoulders, pushed me down about four inches so I was mostly ducked into a pittosporum bush, and then repeated himself. “Stay right here. Got it?”
I nodded, though I had no intention of hanging back. Nina was my best friend, and her afterlife was in my hands. She would have happily been sucking on a blood bag and reading an InStyle magazine if I hadn’t come along. I sniffed, feeling the tears start again.
Alex looked at me and softened. “Just stay here. We’re going to get Nina.”
He tiptoed out across the driveway, hugging as close to the shadows cast from the house as possible. He disappeared around a clutch of flowering bushes and I assumed he had gotten onto the front porch, but there was no sound.
I counted to twenty-five and then tiptoed from my pittosporum hiding place, picking my way along the shadows of the driveway, following in Alex’s footsteps. I held the butt of my gun in both my hands, arms outstretched. I couldn’t remember if that was the way Alex told me to hold the gun or if I saw it on Cops, but either seemed good enough so I took a few more tentative steps, letting my gun lead the way. When I reached the front porch it was empty.
“Alex?” I whispered, lowering my gun a half inch. “Alex?”
I scanned the surrounding landscaping for any sign of Alex, and then I noticed the front door was slightly ajar. I gently shouldered it open just enough to squeeze through, and promised myself that should I get out of this alive, donuts were strictly off-limits. Well, off-limits right after my “I survived this rescue attempt” donut party.
The lights were off in the foyer; all the curtains were drawn, casting the room into shadows. The house was ungodly still, and the only sound anywhere was the thunderous beating of my heart, the ridiculously loud rush of my blood through my veins. I held my breath and paused before blinking, certain that both would come out as loud as a snare drum, causing Ophelia to rouse from her hiding place and slit all of our throats. When nothing happened for a thirty count I tiptoed farther into the house, calling out for Alex in my mind. If I was going to get any additional powers, I prayed, now would be the time.
I had to stop and get my bearings. Okay. I thought to myself, if I had kidnapped a vampire and was holding her hostage, where would I take her? I blinked in the near darkness, letting my arms and my gun fall to my sides as my arms started to ache. I prowled farther down the hallway, using one palm against the wall to guide myself through the relative dark. When my fingers stumbled on the cold plastic of a light switch cover I instinctively went to flick on the light and then paused—Ophelia would come toward the light. Or, she had the whole house wired to this very light switch, and when I flicked it on we would all go up like a powder keg. I jammed my hand in my sweatshirt pocket and moved on.
I found my way to my father’s office and pressed my back against the wall, holding my gun CSI style. I peeked through the slightly open door and slumped considerably when I saw an obsessively clean desktop, a plastic plant, and a flat-faced computer screen that looked like it was made out of cardboard. The entire office looked like the bland cardboard cutout of an office supply store.
I heard the far-off trill of laughter, the sound of footsteps creaking over hardwood. I silently prayed that the spastic fluttering of my heart wouldn’t give me away.
“Alex?” I tried, my voice barely audible. “Nina?” I looked around, suddenly feeling very alone in the darkness. The house had fallen into an ominous silence again, and I slunk against the wall and then slid the whole way down, sitting on my butt. I pressed my forehead to my knees, sucked in a deep breath, and tried to channel Ophelia.
Ophelia, I called out in my mind. I’m here. Let Nina go. Let Alex go. It’s me you want, right? I’m the Vessel; I’m what you want. So, if you’re so badassed, come out and get me. With no immediate answer, I started to feel bolder. Come on, sis—I hissed the word—come out, come out wherever you are ... I pushed myself to my feet and made my way back down the hallway to the broad, sunken living room right off the kitchen. I walked with a little more sass, holding my gun in one hand and tapping it against my thigh as I continued the baiting call in my head.
Ophelia ... I heard the creak of footsteps again and I snapped to attention, my whole body stiffening. I didn’t have time to react when I saw the flash of movement reflected in the sliding glass door in front of me. I thought I could make out a face and I heard the footsteps speed up as they came rushing toward me. I tried to turn around but was pushed back with a crushing, full-body blow. I felt arms tense around me, squeezing; I felt my breath leave me, felt my feet leave the ground and then the icy pricks of glass showering my shoulders, shredding my arms.
We went crashing through the sliding glass door and slid onto the grass below. I felt my ribs cracking, felt a fist clenching against my lung as the breath went out of me.
I arched against the crunch of glass that pierced through my clothes. Once we stopped I dove for Ophelia’s neck. She slapped my hands away and brought my hands to my sides; I was amazed at how freakishly strong she seemed. I blinked at her.
She was Alex.
“What the hell?” I screamed.
Alex scrambled up from the ground and carried me with him, pulling me tightly against his chest. I squirmed and kicked out against him, tasting blood in my mouth, feeling the dampness of the earth that had seeped into my clothes.
“Stop it, stop it, Alex! You can have the Vessel! You can have it!”
Alex had carried me less than ten feet from the house and heaved me to the ground when we heard the explosion. He threw his body over me, but not before I was able to peek out and watch the fireball that was my father’s house mushroom up to the sky. Alex rolled off me and we both blinked at the black bones of the house as they were spat out from the flames.
“Thanks for offering me the Vessel,” he said with a lopsided, far-too-calm-for-the-situation grin.
“What happened?” I choked out a panicked sob. “Where’s Nina?” I tried to stand up but found that everything hurt. “We need to get in there!” The smoke from the fire was choking me and making my eyes sting. I started to cry and hiccup, kicking at the ground to get my feet to push the rest of my body up.
Alex pinned me down. “She wasn’t in there, Lawson, I promise. I checked every room. Ophelia set us up; it was another trap.”
I sniffed, feeling the energy drain out of my body as I slumped against Alex and cried. My tears made cold tracks down my cheeks and I wiped at my face with a hand that was caked with dirt and grass. “Then where is she?”
“I don’t know, but she wasn’t in there. I should have known. Ophelia wouldn’t give up that easily.”
I sunk back into the grass—and into Alex’s arms—and we watched the fire for a millisecond before the wails of the fire-engine sirens droned through the morning light.
“Can you stand?” Alex asked.
I nodded, and got up gingerly. Alex took my hand and led me to the front of the house, where firefighters and uniformed police officers were ushering pajama-wearing neighbors behind wooden barricades and dousing the flames.
I heard the sharp cut of Will’s words before I saw him. When we turned the corner he was there, standing in front of one of the fire trucks, barking orders at the firemen, who scattered in perfectly organized chaos, dragging fat hoses and lining up at the edge of the burning house. He was wearing his uniform and again his big yellow coat was streaked with black lines of soot and debris. His helmet had a nick in it and was almost totally blackened. He stopped midsentence when he saw me and strode toward Alex and me, nudging in just before the paramedic made his way toward us.
“Sophie?” The playful lilt he’d had when we talked the other day was gone from his voice.
I nodded, too stunned to speak.
“Are you okay? What are you doing here?”
I saw a glint—of what, jealousy?—in Alex’s eyes as he sized Will up. “You’re the guardian?” he asked finally.
Will straightened a bit and looked over his shoulder, then stepped closer to us. He nodded.
Alex used the end of his shirt to dab at a cut on my cheek. “Hell of a job you’re doing, buddy.”
I put my hand on Alex’s arm and stepped aside, just out of his reach. “It’s not his fault.”
Will and I exchanged glances and Alex put up his hands, palms out, and sucked in an exasperated breath. “Okay, fine, whatever. We need to find Nina. If your buddy here wants to come along, he can follow us.”
“I’m looking after Sophie,” Will said.
“So am I,” Alex replied.
The men exchanged staunch, tight-lipped glares and under any other circumstance I would be updating my Facebook status, letting the world know that two incredibly hot men were fighting over me. Instead, I stepped between them.
“We have to find Nina. Now.”
Another fireman ran up to us. He looked from Alex to me and then expectantly at Will. “Are you taking care of this, Sherman?”
Will nodded curtly. “The detective here was just telling me what happened.”
“Fire bomb,” Alex reported, his eyes focused on the second fireman, who wore a water-slicked yellow coat with the name ALLEN sewn on it. “Thrown from the outside when Ms. Lawson was inside.”
Allen nodded and Will raised a suspicious eyebrow. “And Ms. Lawson was inside because?”
Alex cleared his throat. “She was with me. I was escorting her back to her apartment after a second round of questioning when a call came in about a suspected burglar at this address. I asked her to stay in the car. It’s not like anyone was guarding her though.” Will’s eyes flashed as Alex continued. “She must have just slid in behind me.”
I watched the gold flecks in Will’s eyes glitter angrily at the bit of smile that hung on Alex’s lips. Allen looked at the three of us, oblivious to the volumes of subtext going on, and nodded. “Looks like you fellas have got this under control. Just make sure to escort the lady home.”
Will stepped toward me and Alex cut him off, blocking me with his body. He clamped a hand on my upper arm. “I’ve got this under control,” he told Will.
Will went eyebrows up but stepped back. Alex steered me away from the clutch of firemen and flashing lights, and when we were out of earshot, I shrugged him off.
“What was that? You’ve got this under control? Don’t you mean you’ve got me under control? And what was the stare-down for?”
“Really, Lawson? We’re going to do the woman’s lib thing here in the shadow of your father’s raging inferno?”
“I guess not,” I relented. “But that doesn’t mean it’s over!”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Alex said.
I glanced over my shoulder at the smoldering house, at the firefighters working to tame the huge flames that thrust out of windows and licked the tops of nearby trees. I felt an odd sense of loss; I had just found my father—I saw his collection of books, what he kept in the fridge (nothing), the way he decorated a room for his daughter—and now it was gone. Going up in smoke.
I walked up to the neighbors pushing against the wooden barricade. A woman in a velour housecoat was clutching her lapel. Her eyes were so intensely fixed on the fire that I could see flicks of yellow flame reflected in them.
“Did you know the family that lived there well?” I asked her. “What were they like?”
The woman looked down, blinking at me as if I had just materialized out of thin air. “The family that lived there?” she asked. “No, honey, nobody lives in that house—and thank God, now. It’s the model home for the new development going up just over there.” She pointed to a clutch of houses one street over, all glaring with brand-new beige stucco and eco-friendly trim.
“What? But I went inside. It was furnished.”
“Yeah,” the woman said, turning back to watch the flames, “they decorate the house as if someone lives there, but everything inside is fake. Fake plants, fake books, even fake computers and TVs. They just put it up so people feel comfortable, so they can see what their houses will look like once they’re lived in.”
“Oh,” was all I could manage.
I let Alex lead me to the car. He all but clicked me in my seat belt as I gazed dumbly ahead of me.
“It was all made up,” I mumbled.
“What are you talking about?” he asked, plugging his key in the ignition.
“The house. Everything in it. It was fake.”
Poor, poor baby sister ... Ophelia whispered. Losing the childhood home she never even had. No home, no daddy, and now, no best friend. Ophelia giggled in my ear while the fury reawakened in me. I tensed.
“You’re shaking, Lawson. What’s going on?” Alex asked, coasting to a stop at the light.
“Ophelia. Get her out of my head.” I could feel the unattractive flare of my nostrils, feel the ache in my j
aw from gritting my teeth. “She’s always going to be one step ahead of us as long as she’s in my mind. If we’re ever going to save Nina, I have to get her out.”
“Okay,” Alex said, staring through the windshield.
I grabbed his shoulder, feeling my fingers digging into his warm skin. “Tell me how, Alex. Tell me how to get rid of her. You have to know a way.”
“Well, there is one way. The mind reading—”
“Mind-hijacking is more like it.”
“Well, it’s not an exact science. Every time she gets in your head, you’re generally on your own, right?”
I frowned. “Or with you.”
Alex ignored me and continued. “The more people who are around—the more distraction—the more difficult it will be for Ophelia to get a handle on your thoughts. She’ll find it difficult to find you and get in your mind.”
“Okay, fine, so we go somewhere with a lot of distraction.”
“Somewhere with a lot of people. Generally, people who won’t notice a stray or weird thought poking into their head. There needs to be something entertaining them.”
I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “Okay, but I don’t think we can make it down to Disneyland before Ophelia lays waste to my entire life.”
Alex remained silent, thinking. Suddenly, he jerked the car toward the highway on-ramp, wheels squealing as he took the corner at full speed. “I know a place.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
I fiddled around with the car stereo and finally found a soccer game being broadcast on the Spanish channel. I turned it up to earsplitting level, hoping the hiss of the crowd would drown out any Ophelia-influenced thoughts. We were inching our way through the Golden Gate Bridge toll plaza when Alex turned the volume down and looked at me.
“Since when do you like soccer?”
“It’s called football,” I murmured.
“Okay. Since when do you like football?”
Since I’ve had a psychopath taking up valuable real estate in my brain. Since Will walked into my life and try as I might, I can’t get the soft English lilt of his voice out of my head, can’t deny the knight-in-shining-armor way he looks in his firefighter uniform. I thought. I was stabbed with a pang of guilt when I glanced at Alex, at the sincere worry in his eye.