I smashed the table into Dominick and fled to the foyer. Grabbing my boots and bag, I ran outside.
Fighting the rising voices.
The wallpaper was splattered with blood. I needed to run. To escape. Talons clawed at my legs as I tried to find the exit.
Save us!
Sound roared inside my ears. My eyes traveled over every shadow searching for the slightest movement.
Darker things lurking inside crept forward. Images of the Shadowed Man eating the helpless man earlier filled my mind. My eyes darted madly around as I headed to the garage.
So much darkness.
I held my hands over my ears to block out the screams.
Alec said, "Breathe in."
I spun around.
He stood with his hands out, palms up. He took a deep breath. "And out." He breathed out. He repeated it, and I breathed with him. After the third time, I felt in some semblance of control.
He shifted a backpack and a crossover bag a bit. “Need a ride,” Alec asked.
There was no sign of Dominick.
I said, “Yes.”
Anger had gotten me through many things in life. It swelled inside, burning away other emotions. If Dominick didn't plan on touching me because he thought I was damaged goods, screw him. Who needs a jerk like that around? He fought monsters, but didn't have issues? Good for him. Some of us weren't so lucky.
So what if it was the first time I'd been attracted to a man since Roth. Dominick's rejection just proved my horrible taste in men.
I had to work early in the morning on the stupid special project. Going over old data with a fine tooth comb would make anyone crave a sick day. Let alone in a room with your ex.
As we headed for my apartment, I stayed silent listening to the radio. Holiday music played a tune about the son of God. A deity that allowed creatures to wander free raping and eating his people seemed far-fetched at times.
“Hey Alec, were you born with your powers?”
“Yeah. Everyone in the Order is." He glanced over at me briefly. "Why?"
The weight of disappointment hit me. Damn. Yet again, as when I met Whisper, I was still alone. A freak among the oddities. I raked my hand through my hair. It was only slightly damp now.
"Just wondering." I wasn’t like them. I’d had powers only after Lake Clare.
"So, do you believe in God?" I looked over at his profile while he drove.
"Yes. But it is a knowing, not a belief.”
"Hmm," I said. "Isn't seeing believing?"
"Faith isn't seeing. It is the belief of something that your senses cannot comprehend." He turned down the radio. "So, I still have faith, even with all the evil I have witnessed. But seeing things isn't true faith. It is knowledge."
"That is an interesting perspective."
"And yourself," Alec asked, "what do you believe?"
"Well, I believe in a higher power that made all this mess most days." Outside the car window, the city's tall buildings grew closer. I said, "Some days I think God died. Or left us."
"Nihilism? Even with all your gifts?"
"Some days." I gestured to the exit sign. "It is the next exit," I said.
“And I thought we used to live in a bad area,” he said under his breath.
As we pulled up to the apartment building, I realized he knew where I lived now. "Thanks," I said.
Alec stared at the steering wheel, unsmiling. “I don’t know what you’ve suffered. Or if you have actually had others to help you. But I can imagine the personal cost, Dianna. You aren’t alone anymore.” Without his smile, he looked older. His gaze lifted to mine, his dark eyes filled with deep sorrow.
I instantly felt a connection with him far deeper than I knew what to do with. "Uh, Alec," I said softly not certain what to ask or say.
We stared at each other for a moment with our pain laid bare to each other. Memories of family and friends long buried pressed to the front. The rawness of loss fades over time, but the wound left by the loss of someone dear never leaves. It just becomes a pain you learn to live with every day.
He lowered his head for a brief second. His hair blocked his face. When he lifted his head the grief vanished with a half-smile, “Take care.”
I got out of the van. I waved, not speaking. I headed for the apartment’s entrance. For a brief moment, I'd thought that Alec and Dominick might be a new type of family. The way Whisper was. I stopped the thought. It didn't help to borrow could’ves. Time to get some rest.
And with everything that had happened with Max the whole dream of true love, family, and all that came with it was a relic from a girl that no longer existed.
Chapter Eight
I looked in the oval mirror while I put my hair up in a ponytail. Checking my body, I saw that there wasn't a scratch left anywhere. The worn saint's necklace lay on a tray by the sink. The necklace had belonged to my father. My family had died when I was young, but my Grandfather Erik had taken me in. Erik Knutson, my mother's father. At his insistance, I'd kept my father's name, Grant, since it was all I had left of that side of my family.
My Grandfather Erik and I had grieved together and made a life. He had never said he loved me, but it was an unspoken truth between us. He came from a generation and culture where you didn't say those words out loud or easily. His fostering had helped me grow up with a normal childhood and get into college.
I'd gone to the same state college as a few of my childhood best friends. After the party and the deaths, those that didn't come to the party weren't too friendly. They didn't blame me for the deaths of our mutual friends. My being alive just rubbed them the wrong way. Add to that their incomprehension at what I’d told the police, and friends had quickly become strangers.
I'd heard them whisper that the event had unhinged my mind. That was true. I had been diagnosed with depression, anxiety, post-traumatic stress disorder, and anger issues.
All in all, it was fine.
I wasn't a naive small-town girl anymore. Everything I'd witnessed generally strengthened my faith. But some days were so black it was hard to believe in anything.
Thinking back on pushing Dominick left me feeling foolish. Dominick had kissed me, and I'd thrown a table at him. Whatever had almost been between us was over before it started.
Part of me didn't blame Dominick. It wasn’t his fault. Who would follow a crazy lady who threw furniture at you while you made out? But the other part of me was raw.
Brad wasn’t around. I wondered where he wandered off to. His adventures happened more often and lasted longer. Was he getting ready to move on?
I had a flash of memory of Dominick's hot lips on mine. Growling, I took off the borrowed clothes and tossed them in the hamper. Screw that. Story over. Move on. Focus on important things, like my attackers.
What were those men who zapped me up to? Who was this general? Another tainted? The men in suits had carried a picture of me. The picture hadn't been a photo, but a colored drawing. I should have taken it. Lying helpless and waiting to be saved wasn't my style.
No more.
I had no intention of talking to either of the Zachars ever again. Alec had said I wasn’t alone, but I still was. They'd made I choice I never would. They killed humans. Sure, only ones they labeled tainted. Regardless of the truth of that, Dominick and Alec killed people. I hunted monsters, not people.
I hopped in the shower for a quick scrub. I wanted to wash off the scent of lavender. If you didn't sleep most nights, you got over having to shower more than once a day. Some creaks sounded from my neighbor's side.
The building was small and old. I only had two apartments other than mine on the floor. On the close west side, I had two young men who’d just moved in. They were generally at work or at college, so they didn't make too much noise.
I had the east side and a fire escape from my living room windows. The place had been mine since shortly after college graduation. It was a well-constructed old building with good bones. The neighborhood scared off mo
st would-be-renters and kept the area cheap. I didn’t plan to move yet but had started to toy with the idea.
The neighbor who lived on the far west side was named Koslov. He was in his late thirties. He wore suits that were slightly upscale for our neighborhood, but everyone left him alone. He gave off that don’t-fuck-with-me vibe. It worked, we all left him alone.
I waved to him and sometimes added a greeting. He’d respond in kind. The perfect neighbor.
I got ready for bed, yawning. I quickly put on my knee length thermal shirt. It had no cutsie pictures on it. It was a solid navy color and suited me just fine. I grabbed my sketch pad and drew the creature from the blue house.
I labeled it an octopus man thing which turned human at death. I had a locked filing cabinet full of these drawings in cheap sketchbooks of various sizes. I put a note of the where, the time, and the date. It was a tool of recovery.
Did Alec sketch the creatures too? Since photography didn’t work. I wondered if it worked on the living nightmare. Shivering I turned to a new page.
Sketching the Shadowed Man felt like a good way to invite him into my home, so I decided against it. I felt silly and superstitious but went with my gut. Instead, I wrote a note of SM, the place, time, and date.
I stretched and yawned. My eyelids drooped. I needed sleep. It had been a rough day and night. Maybe only a couple more drawings and I'd be done for the night. One of the perks of not sleeping often, my sketching skill had developed. My original drawings of the monsters looked like grade-schoolers work.
I yawned for a bit and put down the pencils and the pad on the nightstand.
I crawled under the dark gray duvet. It held the best down comforter my money could buy. I loved its warmth and weight. I propped up on a pillow and grabbed my pad and pencils again. My hands quickly sketched out the teen called Dem.
Who had he been? I wrote tainted with a question mark.
I flipped back and looked at the picture of Dominick and thought about those inviting brown eyes.
He hadn’t even bothered to find out what had happened. I had crap taste in men.
Letting my mind wander, I drew slightly tilted dark turquoise eyes with shards of paler blue-green and gold inside them. They were framed by thick black fringe. Max's eyes.
They reached out to me from the pages of my sketchbook. I tried to draw the rest of Max's face, but couldn't. I could only sketch faint guidelines where a nose, ears, mouth, chin, and hairline would most likely be.
I couldn't remember his face. It had been straight out of fantasy, but my memory blocked it. All I could remember was the look of satisfaction in his eyes as he hurt me.
I sunk down into the pillow. My first crush and first love had been my first boyfriend. What miraculous luck. He'd even whispered he wanted to get married. A young geek's dream; the hottest, smartest guy on campus asking me out and telling me, a huge nerd, that he loved me.
Even after the pain of what had happened, the joy I’d felt at his words still existed. Stupid as it was.
Sometimes, you have to take your blessings where you can. Despair was easy to find and often was. But it would pass.
Hope was endless.
My thoughts started to drift, and my body stilled. Peaceful oblivion waited.
Chapter Nine
I awoke in my room, the textured grayish walls of the apartment and white wood trim and molding. My vision was blurry at first. My feet tingled, as someone with strong warm hands massaged them. As my vision cleared, I saw a gorgeous man rubbing my feet. The various beaded bracelets on his wrist made a soft noise as he worked on my feet. He looked permanently tan, but not really dark or light. More like a pale copper tone. His slightly wavy jet black hair fell to his nape. His turquoise gaze met mine.
My mind tried to tell me something, but I focused on where his hands touched. My skin ached where his long hands rubbed.
His smooth skin was marred only by his stubble. His thick neatly trimmed eyebrows and black eyelashes framed his strange eyes. Full dusky pink lips were slightly tilted upward. He wasn't wearing a top so I could see his body. The curly hair on his torso trailed down from his chest past his belly button down into his jeans.
This was a strange dream.
His hands started to grow warmer, and everywhere he touched my body craved more. His deft hands moved from my feet to my ankles. He paused at my calves and lowered his head to kiss my shins. His lips were hot and firm.
The smell of rain lingered in the air.
His hands moved slowly, caressing my knees. He lifted each leg one at a time to lick the backs of them. His tongue felt rough like a cat’s. He moved up while kissing my inner thigh and rubbing the outer thigh. A soft moan escaped me, and I realized this felt less dream-like and more life-like.
Trying to move, I discovered that I couldn’t. Every part of me was exhausted. "Who are you? How'd you get in here?" It was hard to speak. I wanted to sleep, even with the desire building.
"Dianna." His long-fingered hands played with my legs, as he sat at the foot of the bed.
He lowered himself in a crouch, his muscles rippling with each movement like a large cat. He crawled up my legs. His tongue licked the sides of my thighs, and my body chest was on display, which somehow seemed more embarrassing than my lower half being exposed. I was completely nude in front of this stranger. Shame started to fill me.
My embarrassment had me sitting up slightly on my elbows fighting the lethargy. I tried to cover my chest with my hands, but my arms wouldn't do more than hold me up.
"What did you do to me," I demanded.
His nose was almost too long, but otherwise, his features were in perfect symmetry. He had a diamond face shape, but it wasn’t feminine. Everything about him personified maleness. He had reached the top of my right inner thigh. His rough tongue continued to caress me as he ignored my questions. A trail of heat left in the wake of his touch and kisses made every part long for more of his touch.
"I have found you. I will protect you." He stopped, and his odd eyes met mine. Any higher up and he would be near my private area. "You smell like cherries, Dianna." Hair fell over his left eye, making him look roguish.
"Hey." I tried to shout, but it came out like a moan.
What was going on? Was I locked in a you-can't-move-nightmare? A sex dream? Or was a person with power in my room? A monster? The thought started to push me towards something else.
His fingers lightly touched the tops of my thigh. Gently, with just a whisper of a touch. "You will never stray again." His words held a strange accent. It was faint, but detectable when he said never.
His chin had a slight dent in the middle. His head lowered and he kissed my upper inner thigh. His teeth bit down, and it hurt. I tried to move to push him off, but my muscles tightened, and coherent thought started to fade.
"Wha- " My question turned to a cry as his tongue stroked the bite mark. Everywhere his hands and lips touched sent pulses of pleasure throughout my body. Heat pushed into me. My body felt feverish. Sweat began to form all over my body in a sheen.
His musk filled my senses; it smelled like sex and rain. My lower muscles tightened in anticipation and throbbed from the desire building.
My arms reached out to touch his shoulders.
"Please," I begged.
As he moved, Brad grabbed him by the shoulder yanking him off me. Brad's face was one of anger. "Wake up!" Brad jumped on the man as the dream faded.
Pushing the covers off, I sat upright. I jumped out of bed and looked around. I still wore my nightshirt. My body ached. I shuddered. Nightmare? Maybe it was my subconscious trying to get over the rape?
Brad stood at the foot of the bed. He trembled in rage. "Dianna, are you alright?"
"What was that?"
"It was some kind of green light over you while you slept. Like a cocoon made of light being wrapped around you."
"What the hell," I said rubbing my face. "Was that you in my dream, then?"
He said, "I don't kn
ow. I just yelled at you to wake up and hit at the light."
"It worked. Thank you, Brad."
"I don't think this is the time to celebrate. I think that was dark magic. Extremely evil shit." He put his hands on his hips. “You need to let me tell you about Halloween.”
I held up a hand. “We’ve been over this. Whatever it is, it can wait.” I shuddered. “Especially now.”
“Shadowed Man or not, you really need to let me tell you the crap you don’t remember.”
“Maybe. I just can’t handle it right now, Brad. Otherwise, my mind wouldn’t have blocked it out.”
“Sooner rather than later you need to know.” He asked, “Do you feel alright?”
“Yeah. Okay. A bit worn out.” I shook my head. “Magic, huh?” Alec had said their home was warded by magic.
So, that meant some people could cast spells? And somehow a magic user had gotten into my dreams?
Swell.
Brad left for the other room, still grumbling.
I took off my shirt and folded it, putting it under my pillow. As I did, the mark on my thigh was visible.
A teeth imprint. There were a total of six marks, the outer marks being the largest. There was something wet on the marks.
I touched it. I brought my fingers up to sniff and smelled the scent of fresh rain and the stranger's musk.
I tried to recall what he looked like, but could only remember his eyes. I went to my sketchbook and flipped to the last sketch. Max's eyes. What had happened? I had teeth marks and smelled like whomever that had been.
Max had died. Hadn't he?
Chapter Ten
Work flew by. Stacks and boxes full of eighty-year-old ledgers to sort before the real work on them could start. Along with the dream, the markings which hadn't faded, and dealing with Roth, anxiety took its toll. By the end of the workday, I had almost looked forward to seeing Mrs. Vanderwault. Almost.
It seemed like stress always happened around therapy. I dreaded therapy while I sat in the waiting room.
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