by C. T. Adams
I’d had an idea, up in the bathroom. It might be nothing. Then again, it was at least worth another look.
I poured myself a glass of milk, grabbed a couple of chocolate chip cookies from the cookie jar on the counter, and wandered into the living room. While my head was not silent, the buzz of the Thrall hive was low enough that I could ignore it. I grabbed the remote for the DVD from the coffee table and hit the play button. As I watched, the familiar grainy picture came on screen. As the figure lurched up the steps I saw … something. I hit pause, and reversed. When I hit play, I noticed it again, but it was too quick. One more try. I used the remote to move the action forward one frame at a time. When the figure’s foot touched the first step I pressed pause and hit the jackpot.
I could see the edge of a gold image and lettering on the front of the sweatshirt. I used the remote again to hit zoom, until the image was four times as large, as big as I could make it.
“What’s that?”
I jumped, letting out a little squawk of surprise. I hadn’t heard Tom come downstairs. My heart thundered in my ears from the shock. “You startled me.”
“I can tell.” He was wearing a pair of striped boxers and nothing else. I was distracted. He wasn’t. He nodded at the screen. “What are you watching?”
“A surveillance video,” I answered. “Take a look at her chest, can you read the logo?” I tried to keep my voice light. I didn’t want this to start a fight, but it just might. Vampires and werewolves are the bitterest of enemies. I hadn’t deliberately concealed the fact that I was working for the Thrall from Tom, but I sure as hell wasn’t looking forward to breaking the news. I really didn’t know how he’d take it.
“It’s got the word ‘Our’ and the edge of what looks like a paw. I’d say it was like the one you’re wearing, but your tiger is crouching. Yours doesn’t have a single paw sticking up.”
Shit. He was right. I hadn’t noticed it before. Was it something subconscious that caused me to wake up and come look at the video again?
Tom walked over to the couch and pulled the padded envelope from where I’d lodged it between the cushion and the frame. His nostrils flared.
“Kate,” he spoke softly, his voice tightly controlled, “why does this envelope smell like vampires?”
“You know how last night I said I had three pieces of rotten news?”
“Yes.”
“This is the third one.” I watched as he set the envelope onto the coffee table, oh so carefully. “It’s kind of a long story,” I said awkwardly.
“I’m in no hurry.” He didn’t look at me as he said it, just stood with his back to me, those amazing shoulders tight with the beginnings of anger.
Shit. Shit. Shit! I hate this. I really, truly, hate this.
I told him.
He turned very slowly. His face was slack with shock.
“You—” he spoke slowly, enunciating each word separately and with great care, “are … working … for … the … vampires.”
“Tom—”
He held up his hand to stop me from speaking. “I know. You said it yourself. It’s not like you had a lot of choice.”
He was still angry. I could feel it beating off of him like waves of dry heat. I watched him standing there, clenching and unclenching his fists. I recognized what he was doing. I’d seen him do it before when he was fighting to control his beast.
“But you’re still pissed.”
“Not at you. At them. If I’d been there—”
“If you’d been there they still would’ve confronted me, or else waited until another time when I was alone. But they wouldn’t let it go. You can’t protect me from this, and I don’t expect you to. It’s my problem, not yours.”
“Not my problem.” The bitterness in his voice cut like broken glass. “No, of course not. You’re the Terminator.” He used the nickname from my volleyball years as though it were a curse. “You don’t need anybody. I’m just the eye candy that warms your bed at night.”
“Tom! That’s not fair. And it’s not true!”
“Isn’t it? Are you sure … really positive about that?” He glared at me. His anger was scalding hot, but his eyes had gone dark and cold. “I’ve been with you for months, and all I’ve ever asked is that you let me in; share your life with me. But something this important, this dangerous comes up, and you deliberately leave me out—hell, would you even have told me if I hadn’t walked down here?”
“Tom—” I stepped forward, reached for him, but he waved me away with an angry gesture.
“I’m out of here. You decide you need me as something more than a boy toy, give me a call.”
7
I spent a miserable rest of the night not sleeping. My life sucked right now, and I didn’t have any answers. I didn’t want to go to court. I wanted to curl up under the covers and give the world the finger. Unfortunately, I didn’t think I would be given that option.
At 7:00 A.M. I called attorney Jones on his cell phone to see if I really did need to go to the hearing. He told me they were having closing arguments today. Then the jury would deliberate, and it would be over. He said he’d check with the judge and call me back, but until I heard otherwise I should assume they wanted me to stay away from the courthouse.
I didn’t do the happy dance, but I was relieved. I so wanted the trial to be over. All week I’d been paying attention, trying to see the situation from the jury’s perspective. I honestly had no idea who was winning. If it had been up to me I would’ve held the hospital liable, but cut the rest of us loose. We’d see if the jury agreed with me in a day or two.
I flipped on all the lights in the living room. Normally, there’s enough sunlight coming through the windows that I don’t need to, but today the weather was as stormy as my mood. Thick black clouds, heavy with rain, had rolled into the city from over the mountains.
A crack of lightning striking nearby was followed by the deep rumble of thunder. Rain slashed at the windows, as if the lightning had hit some switch that released the full fury of the storm.
My stomach was in knots as I waited for the attorney’s return call. Part of it was the trial. Most of it was the fight with Tom. Had I been shutting him out again? I didn’t think so. He wasn’t the only one working at this relationship. I’ve spent most of my life since my folks died trying to take care of everything myself, not trusting anybody. I’m more open with Tom than I ever was with Dylan. Hell, I’m closer to him than I was with Michael. That was saying something, since Mike and I were together when I was a kid in school, before life taught me even more hard lessons in self-reliance.
Frankly, I’d been far more worried about Bryan than myself. The situation at the parish was on a short time line, and I couldn’t think of a single, decent solution to it. Second, I hadn’t wanted to ruin the mood. Tom had gone to so much trouble … and, damn it, I’d needed the break he was offering me. In case … well, in case he did just what he ended up doing. The pack has made me so damned paranoid I’m afraid if I say anything … let him in any further to my whacked-out life, he’ll walk. Damn it!
I ached to tell him that. But would he listen? Would he accept the explanation? I hoped so, but maybe not. Tom is one of the most reasonable human beings I’ve ever met, but he isn’t perfect. He has his sore spots. I’d just run foul of one of the big ones. There were no guarantees. All I could do was try.
Sighing, I went upstairs to get dressed. Since I probably wasn’t needed at court, I chose clothing that suited my mood. Black jeans, new enough to still be stiff with sizing, worn over a black tee-shirt printed with silver roses crossed under a skull.
The power flickered and went out while I was brushing my teeth. Swearing, I rummaged in the bathroom drawer for the matches I put there the last time Tom and I had a romantic bubble bath together.
The memory didn’t improve my mood. I closed my eyes, fighting the sting of tears. When I had myself back under control, I lit the candle still sitting on the wall from last night and brough
t it back into the bathroom to finish getting ready. Blank had dived under the bed at the first crack of thunder. I had learned his nature well-enough over the past few months to know he wouldn’t resurface until after the storm was long past.
The printing on my shirt shone eerily, reflecting the dim light as I braided black and silver ribbons into my hair. Usually candlelight softens features, which is why it’s considered romantic. But the face reflected in the mirror now was stark, the light casting dark shadows that threw the bone structure of my face into sharp relief. I was still debating whether to put on makeup when I heard the heavy pounding of a fist on my front door.
“I’m coming,” I yelled down. Grabbing the candle in my left hand I hurried downstairs. I sent a tendril of thought outward and realized that it was Mary Connolly. I so didn’t want to talk to her, since she’s the one person with final say over both the dyad, the breeding part of the group, and the pack, the hunting portion. Tom’s a member of both.
Ultimately, she would decide whether or not Tom was allowed to stay with me long term, and she’d already said no. Have I mentioned how much I hate that? Still, we knew each other in high school, and if I had to pick someone to be in charge, she’d be it. Mary is tough as old boot leather, but she is fair.
I opened the door to find her looking totally drenched and thoroughly disgusted. Her short dark hair was dripping in her golden-brown eyes, and water ran in rivulets onto the carpet, off the black trench coat that made her look almost too small. Her jeans were soaked up to the knees, and I heard a definite squishing noise when she walked through the open doorway.
“Let me get you a towel and some dry clothes. We can hang your coat up in the bathroom and toss your clothes in the dryer downstairs when the power comes back on,” I suggested.
“Thanks.” She looked at me oddly, as though she hadn’t expected me to be nice. Then again, maybe she hadn’t. As Not Prey, we were technically equals in the predatory food chain, and she did stand between me and a happily ever after with Tom. Always assuming, of course, that he still wanted one.
I lit a couple of last night’s candles and took her coat and left her stripping out of her wet things on the tile floor of the kitchen. It only took a moment to hang up the coat in the bathroom and retrieve both a towel and a set of sweatpants for her to wear.
“What brings you here in this weather?” I asked as I set the pants on the counter next to her.
“We need to talk.”
Uh-oh. “Oh?” I tried to keep my tone neutral—and failed miserably.
Mary laughed. “Subtle, Reilly, very subtle.” She toweled her hair vigorously for a minute, then hand-combed it in place.
I gave her a wry grin in acknowledgment. Subtle has never been my best thing. Hers either, if it came to that.
She handed me the damp towel, which I hung over the back of one of the kitchen stools to dry.
“Look,” said Mary, the laughter fading from her eyes, leaving her expression serious and a little bit vulnerable. “I like you. I respect you. So I’m not going to bullshit you or beat around the bush.” She emptied the pockets of her jeans, placing the contents onto the kitchen island. I didn’t watch her undress, but heard the sucking sound of her peeling the wet denim from her legs.
I nodded, even though I wasn’t sure she could see it with my back to her. I just didn’t trust myself to speak. My heart was suddenly in my throat, and I felt like I was choking on it.
“Dusty wants to be with Rob. Fair enough. But it’s been months, and no baby.” She sighed. “Then, last night, I find out that Rob’s been out of a job all this time, and that they’ve been living here without paying rent.”
“Mary,” I turned around, started to speak, but she held up a hand to stop me.
“Look, the fact is, if he can’t support a family, we can’t let him have one. It’s that simple.” She shook her head. “But then he pipes up and says that if he gets a job, even if he doesn’t get her pregnant, what about artificial insemination? Says that someone else could father the child, but let them stay together. He said that it shouldn’t matter since we raise the baby as a pack anyway.” She gave me a long look. “He didn’t come up with that one by himself. God love him, he’s not that bright.”
“No.” I smiled at little. “He’s not.”
She stared at me for a long moment. I could almost see the thoughts moving behind her eyes. “So it was your idea.”
She took my silence as an admission of guilt. Heaving a huge sigh, she asked the inevitable question. “Just how serious is it between you and Tom?”
I threw my hands in the air. “Hell, I don’t know. I think I love him. More than I’ve ever loved anyone.”
“Including Dylan?”
“Including Michael.”
Her eyebrows rose so high they disappeared beneath her still-damp bangs, and her mouth formed a small “o” of surprise. Michael had been my first love, my first real love, and she knew it. Mary had been a freshman when I was a sophomore. We’d played softball together. She knew better than most the special place Mike would always have in my heart.
The silence seemed to stretch on for an eternity. When she finally spoke she sounded tired. “You sure as hell don’t make things any easier on me, Reilly.”
“It’s not deliberate.” I turned away from her, so that she wouldn’t see my expression. “But it may be moot anyway.”
I could feel her eyes boring into the back of my skull. When she spoke, her voice was surprisingly gentle. “Let me guess, you had a fight?”
I nodded, I didn’t completely trust myself to speak, damn it.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
I shook my head no. It would’ve been nice to talk to someone about it. But while I like Mary, she had the whole pack to think of. Besides, this was private business between Tom and me.
“Fair enough,” she agreed. “So let me change the subject. I brought you a check for the rent on Dusty and Rob’s apartment.”
I didn’t have to pretend to be shocked. “You don’t have to do that.”
She gave me a stem look. “Kate, it was nice of you to let them stay here without paying, but Dusty’s our surrogate and our responsibility. We pay our bills.” She grinned, and it softened her features. I’d never noticed before that she was pretty. But she was, with her shining hair and her dark eyes sparkling in the candlelight. “Besides, I know you can use the money. You haven’t been able to take a courier job since you got injured.”
She held out a check, face up. I blinked at the amount. “Mary, that’s—”
“Nine months’ rent, plus a damage deposit based on what you charge Tom. Take it.”
I looked at the check. She wasn’t wrong. I needed the money badly. I hadn’t been in great financial shape before I got laid up.
She set the check onto the counter. “Look, I have to think of the good of the pack. Do you really think you’d be all right with Tom having a child with another woman?”
I turned away, walking across the room to stand by the windows. I looked out at the rain-soaked scenery rather than try to meet the intensity of her gaze. “I can’t have children, Mary. The only chance I’ll ever have of being a parent is either adoption or as a stepmother.” There wasn’t a lot of emotion in the words. I’d lived with the knowledge for a long time that I wouldn’t be bearing children. Usually it didn’t bother me. After all, my lifestyle hasn’t exactly been conducive to motherhood. I wouldn’t want my child to end up orphaned. I knew too damned well what that was like. And while Monica might be dead and gone, she wasn’t my only enemy. Not by a long shot.
“I hadn’t realized you even wanted kids.” Mary’s voice was surprisingly gentle.
I shrugged. “It’s not something that comes up in casual conversation. But yeah, I do.” I could see her reflection in the glass of the windows, the image distorted by the rivulets of water running down the outside of the pane.
“No, it’s not.” She sighed again. “I need to think about this
and talk it over with my people.”
I nodded my assent. “I’ll have Rob or Tom get your pants back to you.” She retrieved her coat from the bathroom and left without another word.
8
The power came on around 10:00 A.M. and the rain slowed to a drizzle. I hopped in the shower and started cleaning up. Normally, I prefer a bath, but I was getting a late start on the day. Of course, as soon as I got the shampoo in my hair the phone started ringing. Rather than run naked through the house with soap in my eyes, I let the machine take the calls. I did hurry the process up a bit, and when I was out and dry I pulled on my robe and rushed downstairs and played back the messages.
The first call was from the attorney. Closing arguments went well, the jury was in deliberation. He’d be in touch. My stomach tightened into a painful knot. Closing my eyes, I said a quick prayer as the next message cued up in the machine.
“Kate, it’s Mike. You’re a genius! He’s perfect! And he said he might know someone else to cover the second shift! I should’ve known you’d come up with the answer. Sorry I was such an ass yesterday. Call when you get the chance.”
Hunh? I had no clue what Mike was talking about. Who was perfect? It certainly sounded as though he’d found someone to work with Bryan, but I sure as hell hadn’t sent anyone. My heart was thundering in my ears as I picked up the phone and dialed. I hadn’t forgotten that Bryan had been kidnapped once already because of me. He was an absolute innocent, and the perfect hostage. Mike still blamed himself for the carelessness that made Bryan’s capture possible, but if he believed I’d sent someone … . With trembling fingers I punched in the number to the church.
A familiar voice answered the line on the second ring. “Our Lady of Perpetual Hope, Rob speaking.”
