Myths and Magic: An Epic Fantasy and Speculative Fiction Boxed Set

by K.N. Lee

  “Dr. Hill?” He reached for her but drew back before making contact.

  His hand seemed smaller. She contemplated holding it but decided it would be too much. From his perspective, she was probably running hot and cold, and she always hated it when a guy did that to her.

  “I’m just not feeling myself.” It was weak. True, but weak.

  Shannon shifted into the corner. This was not going the way she expected. He should have been all over her by now. He had to be really upset.

  “I… There isn’t anyone.”

  “Have you been drinking?”

  “No, I—” She wished she had. The minuscule effects of the champagne she’d had at the party in the entities’ club had worn off during the fight with the devils in the staff’s hall.

  She inched closer. The elevator felt enormous, and he seemed miles away, squished into the corner. “You aren’t listening.”

  The bell chimed and the doors slid open. From the corner of her eye, she saw Agent Brown standing in the doorway.

  Which was impossible.

  Jovkovic was his counterpart in this world.

  “Where the hell have you been?” a low, emotionless voice asked.

  That was definitely Brown. Which meant—

  She took a closer look at Shannon. He was only a few inches taller than her, not as broad in the shoulders as she remembered, and his hair was a dirty blond, not black.

  Heat seeped up her neck and across her cheeks.

  Shit.

  She was home and had apologized to the wrong Shannon.

  33

  “And what’s with the dress?” Agent Brown asked, glaring at Rowan, pinning her in place in the elevator.

  Shannon slid past into the hall, giving her more than enough room. The doors started to shut, and Brown shoved his hand between them, making them bounce open.

  “You told me to take time off,” she said. It had only been a few days ago, but it felt like years. Had he really told her to take time off after getting shot in the vest? Yes. But Seth had also abducted her to a parallel world where demons existed… unless that had been a dream or a hallucination.

  “I said go home and work. Not disappear.” Brown eyed the dress and shook his head. “We’ve got Manny in custody. He’s babbling nonsense that I want you to hear.”

  “Manny?” Manny was dead. She’d seen the bloodstain on his bed—

  No, that was the other-world, Seth’s world. This world’s Manny had shot her. And—

  Her heart stuttered. The dress! She was still wearing the dress Azkeel had given her, which meant it was real. The dress proved it. So did the cut on her shoulder she’d gotten while fighting those devils in the upscale entities’ club. Unless she’d had some kind of psychotic break, everything she’d experienced had been real.

  “Hill!” Brown snapped his fingers in front of her, breaking her from her thoughts. He leaned against the elevator doors and stopped them from closing again. “Pull it together. We need you.”

  Right. Focus. Once she’d listened to Manny, she’d find a way to excuse herself, and then she could figure out what the hell had happened.

  Brown led her to the observation room next door to Interview Room Two and left her with Shannon. Manny sat in the interview room, handcuffed to a small table, his hands twitching against the Formica top, his gaze darting this way and that, always returning to the one-way window where Rowan watched. When Brown entered, Manny jerked. If he’d been a cat, he would have lost a life.

  He looked pathetic. Not that he’d seemed so impressive the first time she’d encountered him, but she’d expected to see a bit of the demon he’d transformed into when he’d shot her, maybe a glimmer of red in his eyes, even if his face didn’t emaciate as she watched him.

  His hair was still limp and stringy. It didn’t look as if it had been washed since last she saw him. He wore the same clothes, stained jeans and blue flannel shirt. Both were covered in mud and likely other types of filth she didn’t want to think about.

  “The eyes, the eyes. He knows,” Manny said before Brown could say anything.

  “Who knows?”

  “I told you.” Manny glanced at the mirror then to his hands. “I see their souls in their eyes. They glow, you know. Like stars. So many. Pretty little stars. And he says point, just point.”

  Brown sat in the chair opposite Manny and set a folder on the table between them. “Who?”

  “The man.” Manny shook his head. “The devil.”

  “What does this man look like?”

  “The devil. His hair is black, his clothes are black, his eyes are black, black, black. He takes souls, you know. Steals them. Takes the souls of glowing eyes.”

  After Rowan’s experience with the other-world, she didn’t doubt that Manny had seen something, but she doubted it was the Devil himself.

  A devil, maybe.

  But black hair and black eyes sounded a lot like someone she’d already encountered. Seth.

  “Do you think it’s a psychosis?” Shannon asked, making her jump. His voice was so soft, so unexpected compared to the other-world Shannon’s she’d become accustomed to.

  “I’m no psychologist.” But if any of what Manny said was true, then Rowan needed to get some answers from Seth.

  Brown opened the folder and spread autopsy pictures of the victims in front of Manny. “Did you point out these girls?”

  “Yes. No.” Manny hugged himself.

  “Did you point out these girls?” Brown asked again.

  “I don’t know.” Manny rocked back and forth, whispering to himself. “So many. So many.”

  Brown cleaned up the photos, grabbed the folder, and left Manny, who continued to rock and moan. She tried to find anger for him. He had shot her, tried to kill her, but he was just so pathetic, and she couldn’t make the emotion manifest. Maybe she was too tired.

  The door to the observation room opened, revealing Brown. He didn’t need to ask what she thought. The show had been just for her.

  “It could be paranoid schizophrenia, but I’m not a psychologist. Manny’s involved in some of the darker occult practices. Perhaps someone is manipulating him. Although that doesn’t account for the glowing eyes, he believes he sees.”

  “Which means?” Brown asked.

  “I need to think about this.”

  Brown scowled.

  “Well, what have you got?” she asked, her voice sharper than she intended.

  “Nothing.” Brown’s scowl deepened and he sighed. “The forensics on the two girls came in with nothing, no DNA, smudged prints only, and dirt that could be found almost anywhere in the city. The M.E. can’t place the weapon or animal — which is what he’s leaning toward — that killed them.”

  She tried to pull her mind back into the case, drawing to memory the autopsy and crime scene photos. Two girls from St. Anne’s had been cut, ripped from what it looked like, from the inside out. They’d been naked, wrapped in white sheets, and dumped in two of the many parks that made up the green belt ringing the city center. Which, given the lack of blood, was not where they’d been killed. Someone had to have seen something, but so far no one had come forward.

  “What about the shrouds?” she asked.

  “The Sister thinks it’s a shroud,” Brown said. “Let’s call it what it is, a sheet.”

  “Fine. What about the sheet?”

  “Common department store brand. But it does indicate shame of the act or familiarity with the victims.”

  “Only if we’ve decided it’s not ritualistic. If Manny’s ramblings are related to the case, then it’s more likely ritualistic.”

  “Which gives us the sole suspect of the Devil. I prefer the odds of someone close to the victims,” Brown said. “Boyfriends, I can interview. Unless you’d like to call up Satan for me.”

  She gave him a dark look. “No, I can’t call up Satan.”

  “Didn’t think so.”

  Fine. She bit back an argument. Stay focused on the case. At least t
his case was the one she was supposed to be working on, not missing demons. “Have we done a victimology on the girls?”

  Brown pinched the bridge of his nose. “Not much to talk about.”

  “Well, I might as well look at it.”

  Behind her, on the other side of the window in the interview room, Manny shrieked and started sobbing. Shannon flicked the switch on the speaker, cutting off the sound.

  “Look at it, but don’t waste too much time on it,” Brown said. “I still think the text is our best bet.”

  She wasn’t going to argue with him or his hunches — he had years of investigative experience over her — but she had no clue about the text and really needed to do something.

  After getting the victim profiles from Brown, she stopped at her desk just to look at it. The files on Seth and the missing demons were gone. In their place were the cold cases she’d been working on before the murders had come in. The dress she wore told her the other-world was real, not some strange dream. And the bruise on her cheek and the cut on her shoulder told her it was dangerously real. She just didn’t want to believe it.

  With victim profiles in her oversized purse, she took a cab home. The subway and subsequent walk afterward seemed too much of an effort. It felt silly driving such a short distance when public transportation would easily fit the bill, but it was late and she was exhausted.

  That, and she had a lot to think about, namely this other-world. The evidence of its reality was strong — possibly overwhelming — but she still couldn’t rule out that she was insane. Everything she’d experienced could be explained by some kind of psychosis. She didn’t feel crazy, but would she feel crazy if she actually was?

  All she really knew was that she was grateful to be home, away from Seth, and Shannon, and even Azkeel.

  Sure, there were aspects of this world, her real world, that she didn’t like, but at least they made sense. Demons didn’t exist — which Grandma Ro would disagree with — and demons didn’t walk around in public, they didn’t go missing, and they weren’t jealous lovers.

  She was home, and somehow she’d world-walked on her own. Seth had nothing to do with her return, and she could put him and his world behind her and focus on catching a killer here.

  Of course, that was likely too much to ask. Seth didn’t strike her as the kind of man who gave up without a fight. He’d already proven he wasn’t above kidnapping, and she didn’t want to think about what he’d try next.

  Her body ached and her thoughts were growing fuzzy. She was just too tired to worry about anything at the moment.

  She unlocked her apartment door, flicked on the light, and dropped her keys in the dish. Numbness buzzed in her head and she had to admit she was too tired to think.

  She kicked off her shoes, considered lying down on the futon, and decided her bed was better.

  “Ro?”

  She froze, expecting Shannon to come barreling at her or Seth to slip to her side.

  A shiver ran down her spine at the thought of the sexy demon, and she pushed it back.

  Instead, Ben stood in the bedroom door, dressed only in his boxers, squinting against the light. He was tall, lanky with his sleek jogger’s body. Beautiful, and safe.

  Relief and aching swept through her. She was home. Home.

  She rushed to him and kissed him, deep, hard, and desperately. She ran her hands through his hair, captured his head, and drew him close, pressing her lips and her body against him, trying to expel all thoughts of Shannon, Azkeel, and Seth. All she needed was a moment, a chance to kiss away her thoughts of Seth and return to her center, to Ben.

  He gripped her shoulders and pushed her back. “Where—?”

  She stilled his lips with hers and another long, breathtaking kiss. There was no way she could explain that she had traveled to a parallel world. While Ben read that kind of stuff, he’d never believe any of it was real. Heck, she was still having trouble believing it, and she’d been living it. All she knew was that her heart ached, and Ben could set it right.

  “Ro,” he said, pulling away again.

  “I needed a little time… to think.” She dipped in again to renew the kiss. She needed him, needed his touch, proof that he was real. Except it wasn’t working. She wasn’t regaining her emotional sense of balance.

  He leaned back. “You’re awfully dressed up for thinking.”

  Well, yes. If she’d used her brain, she’d have changed at the office. Except she didn’t have anything in her locker in this world. That was the other-world.

  “I had to work.” Now if only he’d buy that.

  He wouldn’t, of course. Part of her attraction to him was his intelligence, and while he wouldn’t believe the truth, she didn’t know if he’d believe a lie, either.

  “Work where? Not with the FBI or at St. Anne’s. Everyone has been calling for you.”

  “On my fellowship research.”

  “You’ve been gone for two days.” His grip on her shoulders tightened, reminding her of the kiss with Shannon.

  “I needed to do field research.” She didn’t want to argue with him. Not about this. She just wanted to be home and safe and in his arms. Just needed a little more time kissing him to find her emotional balance. That was all.

  “Forty-eight hours. No phone call, no note. Nothing.”

  “Ben—”

  “And now you come striding home in the middle of the night wearing a cocktail dress as if nothing has happened.”

  “Nothing has happened.” Nothing that she could tell him. God, she wanted to tell him.

  “You were shot, for God’s sake. I get that,” he said. “Obviously you don’t trust me to talk about it.”

  She grabbed his jaw and stared into his eyes. “I’m here. I’m fine.” She swallowed. “And I love you.” If she said it enough, it had to wash away that kiss with Shannon and all those thoughts about Seth.

  Something flashed across his face and he pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her. She melted into his embrace, feeling the lean muscles of his arms hold her and the heat of his bare chest through the thin fabric of her dress. He kissed her forehead then the tip of her nose.

  “I was worried about you,” he said against her cheek.

  “I know.” She didn’t want or need him to worry about her, although a part of her was pleased he did. This was her Ben: smart, gentle, sensitive. It was unfair to make him worry, and if she wanted their marriage to work she’d need to stick to their plan or come up with another compromise, or she’d lose him. He hadn’t said it this time, but she could sense it.

  The thought of losing him hurt, made her heart jerk and contract until she thought her chest would cave in. She brushed her lips across his cheek to his mouth. He kissed her back, tentative, as if he were afraid she was going to disappear right from his arms. She clung back, just as afraid.

  “I was so worried.” The tension in his body eased, as if leaving with his words. He ran his hands up her back, kissing her with more confidence.

  She could feel the yearning in his kiss, the promise of passion, and she wanted to kiss him back with the same feeling, but she couldn’t ignite the usual fire within herself. She was desperate to keep him, but not aching to have him. Exhaustion and stress mingled with a tangle of emotions she didn’t want to figure out. But it was a struggle to focus on Ben. Even lip to lip, their bodies pressed together, she couldn’t concentrate. His pulse picked up, thrumming under her fingertips, but her heart stuttered, stopping and starting as if it couldn’t catch the right gear.

  What the hell was wrong with her? She was safe, wrapped in the embrace of the man she was going to marry. She was supposed to crave him.

  He traced a line along each shoulder with his fingers, following the thin straps of her dress. Her skin tingled at his touch but it wasn’t a shock like Seth’s lightning. He eased the straps off her shoulders and the dress slid to the floor, pooling around her feet. His gaze caressed her, filled with all his love. It spread a hint of a lazy heat
through her, like sinking into a lukewarm bath. She concentrated on that, forcing everything else away, making it wash off all worries and thoughts. Everything but his love.

  He picked her up, carried her to the bed, and laid her down. The bedroom was dark, the only light coming from the hall. With that glow behind him, she couldn’t see his features, and the image of Seth flashed through her mind’s eye.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, struggling to force Seth from her thoughts, but it didn’t work.

  She ran her hands through Ben’s hair and drew his mouth to hers. Ben was the man she loved. Fire or electricity or whatever didn’t matter. They were foolish, temporary emotions. What she had with Ben was permanent. They had ridden the highs and lows of life already and were still together. They would continue to ride those bumps until they were old and gray.

  His lips trailed down her neck to her breasts and captured a taut nipple. He sucked it into a tighter bud and need shuddered through her.

  See, her body knew she desired him, even if her head wasn’t in the game.

  He skimmed his fingers up the inside of her thighs. She shivered with anticipation, and her desire uncurled a little more.

  True love was steady. She’d had a burning passion for Ben before and she’d have that burning passion for him again. Right now things were complicated and she just wanted to forget everything.

  He teased her sensitive folds, drawing a moan, more proof her body desired him.

  “I’ve missed you,” he murmured against her breast.

  She captured his cheeks with her palms and drew his gaze up to meet hers. “I missed you, too.”

  Something flickered in his eyes for a split second, as if he could see she wasn’t fully connected to the moment. He pressed his lips to hers, hooked his fingers into her underwear, and slid them down her legs.

  She kissed him back, willing her full passion for Ben to return. It would return. Maybe not tonight, but it would. This wasn’t a case of faking it until she made it. She’d already made it. Just right now she had to accept she was momentarily disconnected from her feelings for Ben… for everything.