“Okay you are going to learn how I dance.” She selected some soft jazz for the CD player. When the music drifted out, Wind Dancer once again appeared both interested and confused. “This is the way I like to dance.”
She stepped up to him and placed his hand on her waist to make it easier to draw him near. “Like this. Slow. Move your feet this way.” Her hand slid up his arm onto his shoulder. She chuckled at him, watching his feet. “It will go better if you don’t think about it. Just move with me, Joseph.” He stepped on her foot, and she grimaced as he jumped away. “It’s okay. Let’s try again.”
“Like this?” He slipped his hand to the middle of her back and drew her closer to his chest, causing her to exhale suddenly. She was aware of his thick, black hair that fell down his chest, pressed between their two bodies. His warm gaze continued as he released her hand. He lifted her arms to circle his neck, locking her into his embrace. “You smell like rain again.”
Cleo opened her mouth to speak but the search for words failed as her eyes landed on his wide mouth. “Thanks. I guess.” She decided if an award existed for best lame response given in a romantic situation, she’d be given something equivalent to an Academy Award.
“Pizza. Ice Cream. Dancing with you. This is a good place to die.” He nodded, his lips pooched together.
“If you say so. Although I’d like to postpone the last item on your list as long as possible.”
For the first time since he’d crossed over, Wind Dancer laughed. He squeezed her tighter to his body. “I meant this is a good place. I like explaining to you for a change.”
“This must seem all very strange and frightening to you. Do you miss your village?”
“Not at this moment.” He continued to smile down at her.
His warm gaze filled her with a sense of belonging. “What did my father tell you about me?”
“Nothing I didn’t already know. I probably could have told him a few things.”
Cleo remembered spilling her guts a number of times to the Pawnee in the case. The heat of embarrassment flushed across her face. “Hopefully, you didn’t share any of my secrets with him.”
“No. I kept them to myself.” He took a deep breath and transferred his gaze to the city lights outside the open window. “The white man has created a new world I do not understand.”
“When you return”—she realized how painful the image made her feel— “you can warn your people and prepare them for the future. They must be educated to hold on to their past so they can share in this world, good and bad.”
“Cleopatra?” Wind Dancer stopped moving and lifted her chin so she couldn’t avoid staring up at him. “I am not going back, at least not without you.”
He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her, gently at first, as if he feared rejection. Withdrawing, he placed his hands on each side of her face then buried them in her hair.
Cleo jerked him forward so she could kiss him harder, her heart filling with desire. He needed no further encouragement as he caressed and pressed her against the wall. Then he slid from her arms to crumple onto the floor.
Neosho stood over his body holding a baseball bat with a faded Chicago Cubs insignia, in his hand. His eyes lifted from the body to Cleo who stood frozen in fear, calling out Wind Dancer’s name. When she tried to kneel, the Osage grabbed her by the arm and yanked her up then slung her onto the couch.
Jumping to her feet, she rushed to the kitchen where she’d left her phone on the counter, only to be cut off by the man who meant to destroy her. As she grabbed the phone, he squeezed her wrist so hard it fell to the floor. He picked it up and threw it into the fireplace.
“No.” She tried to escape only to be stopped by his large hand wrapping around her neck. He glanced to the fireplace where smoke poured from the firebox.
Neosho released her long enough to offer a warning. “If you try and fight me, Cleopatra, I will kill him right here. Come with me, and he lives. You decide. Either way, I will have you.”
She could see Wind Dancer trying to move as he grunted her name.
“If he wakens, then I will finish him while you watch.”
“Okay. I’ll go with you. Let me get my—”
“No. We go now.” He took her arm and dragged her toward the front door.
The chest had been shoved aside like a toy, and the door stood ajar. The music, dancing, and rising passion must have crowded out any sounds to tip them off of him pushing inside. The thought of Jacque lecturing her about safety concerns came to mind too late to help Wind Dancer. Would he die of smoke inhalation?
“Where are you taking me?” She struggled to free herself from his grip, but he tightened his hold with an added shake.
“Home.”
Chapter 19
A prickle went up Detective Marquette’s spine as he slid into his car after grabbing a sub sandwich at a deli near his apartment. The wind tunneling down his street left him chilled. Squinting, he took in his surroundings, observing the many people who meandered on the sidewalk or sat at window tables of the restaurants lining the streets. Horns honked and the squeak of brakes pierced the darkness, mixed with the occasional burst of laughter or sound of shock, all normal for the city and for this time of night. Still, he experienced uneasiness as he reached up and adjusted his rearview mirror then turned on the ignition.
“Wind Dancer and the woman need you,” came a whispered warning at the nape of his neck.
Jacque flinched and stole a glance up into the mirror. Red glowing eyes met his then faded away. He fumbled to find his gun as he turned around in his seat, proving to be an awkward task. A new kind of fear swelled inside him at realizing the skinwalker had touched him.
With nothing visible in the backseat, he released the seat belt and scrambled out of the car, finally able to draw his weapon. He surveyed the area around the car, only to discover a skinny dog, which looked a lot like the same one he’d seen earlier in the day about a mile away. Something about the way the animal stared at him made him reconsider not shooting him. The dog stared down the street, followed by a howl.
Jacque glanced in the same direction to discover what had drawn the animal’s attention. Distracted for only seconds, he discovered the dog had vanished. The detective walked around the car then peered behind a couple of trash cans to see whether the mutt was hiding.
He rushed to get in his car, and as he turned the key, called the station. “Need a well-check on Dr. Cleo Sommers, if you have a unit nearby.” He offered the address. “I’m on my way there, but I think something might be wrong.” After flipping on the flashing red lights, the detective merged into traffic then stomped the accelerator.
Even before he reached the corner to Cleo’s building, Jacque heard familiar sirens. Other cars slowed his progress as he laid on the horn only to inch forward until he could see several fire engines coming to a halt outside her building. Leaving the vehicle double-parked, the detective sprinted to the front doors only to find them locked as he’d instructed the desk clerk to do earlier in the evening. No amount of rattling or banging on the glass got anyone to appear. Desperate, he leveled his weapon and fired several times, shattering the glass. The fire captain pushed him aside and reached inside, unlocking and opening the door so they could all move inside.
“Got a call from the tenth floor,” a burly firefighter called over his shoulder as he squeezed past the detective.
The desk clerk staggered from the rear of the corridor as the lobby filled with firefighters and a couple of uniformed policemen.
“What the hell happened?” Jacque grabbed the clerk to steady him from falling.
“Dr. Sommers,” he moaned rubbing the side of his head where blood trickled from a split ear. “Some big guy dragged her out of here. I tried to help her.”
“Was it the man we brought in earlier?”
He shook his head as a paramedic joined them. “No. He looked like him, a little. And he wore a Packer’s jacket. I mean, who does that in Chicago?”
“Was she hurt?”
“I couldn’t tell, but really scared.”
“So you didn’t see her friend, the one I brought in this evening?”
He shrugged. “Not sure about him. I had other things to worry about. Several people said smoke was coming from her floor, and the fire alarm sounded. Everyone tried to evacuate. Didn’t see him. I tried to help people out the rear doors. I never made it to unlock the front.”
Even before the last words left his mouth, Jacque raced away to the stairwell.
“You can’t go up there, Detective,” yelled one of the firemen.
“Watch me,” he snapped as he flung the door open and took the stairs two at a time.
By the time he’d reached the fifth floor, he had to stop and pant until he caught his breath. Grasping the railing, he pulled himself along for a few steps then tried to make his legs work faster, no longer two steps at a time, promising himself he’d take up jogging again when his life made more sense. Even though he liked to think of himself as fit and trim, too many pizzas, free doughnuts, and beer took a toll on his body, especially around his middle.
When he opened the tenth-floor exit door, the smell of smoke hit him hard. Raising his arm up against his mouth and nose, he raced down the hall to Cleo’s condo, where he found the door ajar. Smoke was much thicker in here. “Joseph.”
“Here.” A figure rose from the floor, coughing and staggering forward.
Jacque caught him and dragged him into the hall as several firemen burst through the exit doors. “This way,” he called, lifting his chin toward Cleo’s place. “Let’s get out of here, Joseph.”
Except for the blood trickling down his neck, by the time the two men made it to the fourth floor, Wind Dancer walked and talked as if he hadn’t been exposed to heavy smoke. The Pawnee even picked up more speed as they emerged into the foyer, but Jacque forced him to an ambulance where paramedics could administer first aid.
“How did you know I was in trouble?” Wind Dancer sat in the rear of the ambulance and frowned in confusion up at his friend as the paramedic moved on to someone else.
“I think your skinwalker friend paid me a visit.” He shivered from the memory but shook it off for Wind Dancer’s sake. “I’m going to shoot the damn dog next time I see him.”
“You must wait because Neosho has Cleo.”
“How did he get the drop on you anyway?”
Wind Dancer diverted his eyes to take in the unfolding scene around him with a certain degree of interest. “I had other things on my mind at the time.”
Jacque laid a hand on his shoulder, drawing the Pawnee’s attention to him. “I’ll bet. See where it got you? Cleo is in real danger. Couldn’t you smell him or something weird?”
“I could smell only Cleopatra.”
The detective rolled his eyes in disgust. “Really? You decide to get all romantic at the most inopportune times.”
Wind Dancer’s frown deepened.
“This is your fault. If you’d listened to me and been on your guard, then Cleo would be with us instead of some gangbangers and Neosho. If anything happens to her I’m holding you responsible.” He jammed a finger in the Pawnee’s chest. He strode away to talk to an approaching fireman then several uniformed officers before pivoting to deal with Wind Dancer.
To his horror, the Pawnee had disappeared.
~~~~
Neosho managed to maneuver Cleo outside the building, but not without having to stop a number of times to try and subdue her attempt at escape. She fought him at every opportunity, knowing this might not end well for her if he somehow crossed over to the other universe. The chances she’d ever find her way home would leave her to be his captive forever. A black paneled van waited for them, complete with sketchy characters who reached out to drag her inside and dump her on the floor.
The smell of cigarette smoke and body odor assaulted her senses, making her already-watery eyes burn. Neosho climbed in beside her body then reached over to slam the door shut at the same time tires squealed and the vehicle lurched forward.
“Ain’t you a pretty thing,” one man said as he touched Cleo’s face and neck.
Neosho grabbed him by the throat and shoved him then reached over to slam his fist into his nose. “No touch.” For whatever reason, the Osage helped her to a sitting position next to him. He lowered his lips to her ear and whispered, “I take care of you.” He nodded toward the others who returned a murderous glare. “If any of you touch her again I will kill you. Understand?” No response. “Understand?” His growl garnered a reluctant nod.
“This your lady?” A young man in the front passenger seat peeked around to stare at her and let out a whistle. “Woo-wee, Neosho. She’s the prettiest doctor I ever seen. How she gonna help us?”
Neosho opened and closed his fist as the van sped out into the night. Considering how speed affected Wind Dancer, the possibility existed the Osage suffered from the same confused fear at all the technology. She hoped hitting him on his softer side would make the next few hours easier on her. With a timid movement of her hand she laid it on top of his and squeezed. Immediately, the gesture drew his eyes downward.
“It’s okay,” she sniffed softly. Moving closer, she hooked her arm through his to help steady him against the swerving in and out of traffic. Her lips nearly touched his ear to explain until he faced her so she was nose to nose. “It helps,” she stammered, “to hold on to something so you aren’t thrown around.”
He nodded then released her grasp and slipped his arm around her shoulders to hold on tight.
She felt torn between pity and an urge to capitalize on the newfound weakness. In some ways, he was no different than Wind Dancer, a stranger in a strange land, confronted with monstrous inventions no one in his time could have imagined. Perhaps Jules Verne had crossed over and gathered information to create his books. If she lived through this, maybe a little research would explore those possibilities. But, for now, she was trapped with several gang members, dressed to rumble, with an open crate full of weapons pushed near the rear.
“Neosho. Let me go. Better yet, come with me.” She dared touch his cheek with her hand. “You’re running a fever,” she whispered into his ear. “You’re sick with the same disease that killed your people.”
He frowned down at her.
“I can help you. Save you. But I need medicine to do it.” He jerked his head around to snarl at the others who appeared to be trying to listen to the conversation. “I won’t hurt you.”
Cleo felt his muscles flex as his jaw tightened then released, over and over. Even in the dim light of passing streetlights, she recognized the stubbornness in his eyes.
“No.” Something about his voice reminded her of a hungry pit bull.
“You guys are in danger,” she pleaded with the other four men in the van.
The fat one chuckled. “Yeah? How ya figure? Seems to me we got all the guns, the chief here, and you.”
“He’s sick. You’ve been exposed to the same thing.”
“A little cold. No big deal.” They all laughed at the absurdity.
“No. It isn’t a cold. It’s smallpox.”
“Had it when I was a kid. Can’t get it again,” the second man said out of the side of his mouth as he chewed on a matchstick.
From the front, Ty seemed to stretch his neck around. “No. You idiot. You’re talking about chickenpox. Smallpox is way badass. Kill you freakin’ bad. Somethin’ a terrorist would use.”
The other three men laughed.
“That’s us,” Ashanti said as he stopped the van. “So, Miss Doctor, you best keep your mouth shut and not be scarin’ my boys about getting sick. Hear? The chief isn’t used to this Chicago wind is all. Don’t you got some aspirin or somethin’ to give him?”
They pulled the van into a dark alley behind a garage. Ty offered Cleo a gentle hand while his friends were piling out. Neosho’s focus went to his surroundings and the others while his young friend took care of his cap
tive.
“Are you freakin’ kidding me? Smallpox?” Ty mumbled under his breath.
“Yes. He has smallpox. And if you don’t get vaccinated soon, you’ll have it as will all of your friends. You’ve got to let me go or better yet, take me yourself to get help. I don’t know how to get out of here. Where are we?”
Before he could answer, Neosho grabbed her arm and yanked her after him. “We go inside.” She tried to jerk free but he squeezed her arm so hard a whimper escaped her mouth. “We have work to do tonight. You wait here.”
“Neosho, you don’t want to do this. You know Wind Dancer will find me, and when he does, he will kill you. The police are searching for you, too. It’s only a matter of time before they’re here.”
“What’s she talkin’ about, Chief?” Ashanti stopped and eyed her then Neosho. “You in some kind of trouble? We don’t need the police down our necks any more than they already are.” Then he nodded for them to follow as he held open the garage door for them. Neosho continued to grip her arm until they entered then gave her a slight shove of release. Ashanti smirked at his newest recruit. “Then again, maybe we’ll do a little payback with Chicago’s finest if they come snooping ‘round here.”
Ty arched an eyebrow as he stroked his chin. Cleo wondered if she could manipulate the young man’s concern to her advantage, even if the risk of making a pact with the devil could hurt her down the road. Could she trust him and what would be the price?
She believed Neosho would indeed protect her up to a point; the point being when he either had no more use for her or took her to his universe. Neither option thrilled her. His goal involved making Wind Dancer suffer, and her death might accomplish that, but there remained the chance his primary objective would be to kill the Pawnee. She didn’t want the love of her life to die in a rescue attempt. He had risked everything to cross over and find her. The least she could do was come up with a plan to save herself.
“Want somethin’, Doctor Lady?” Ty stepped in front of her, and she took a step back and bumped against a table that felt greasy as her fingers braced her for steadiness.
Dark Side of Morning (Wind Dancer Book 1) Page 16