by Jeanne Rose
Puzzled by the strange incident, she said, “The carriage horses are usually so gentle, not even afraid of traffic. And you’re so good with animals.”
“Most animals. That one did not like my scent.”
“Then it must not have been a female,” she said archly.
That brought another smile to his usually serious face.
She glanced back a second time, noting the carriage and driver moving on . . . and a familiar-looking man ambling down the sidewalk, obviously following Val and her. When he realized Adriana saw him, he slipped into the doorway of a building.
Stone Drake.
Angry, she wondered what on earth her former boyfriend was doing. It was only ten-thirty. He was supposed to be working.
“Is something the matter?” asked Val.
“Uh, no.”
He scowled, raising his head as if to sniff the wind. “If there are any more would-be abductors lurking about, they are going to be sorry.”
Adriana said hurriedly, “It was nothing. I just thought I saw one of my neighbors.” She pulled on his arm. “Let’s go to the gallery. I can’t wait to see your photographs.”
She picked up the pace as they walked on, hoping Stone had the sense to disappear. Not that she feared he would tell Frank Nieman she was playing hooky instead of going to a doctor; Stone didn’t care. for authority figures. She simply disliked her ex-boyfriend and she knew Val considered him a rival. They didn’t need an unpleasant encounter to ruin a nice evening.
The Night Gallery was an elegant hole in the wall run by a strange little man with a humpback. Val’s work dominated one of the rooms. The other two featured paintings that had been used as cover art for dark fantasy and Gothic romance novels.
Adriana merely glanced at the paintings as Val led her to his photos.
“Do you recognize this neighborhood?” he asked, pointing to a photograph of a seedy bar with two men arguing beneath an eerily lit neon sign.
“Uptown.”
Though it wasn’t one of the shots he’d taken the night Adriana had accompanied him, thank God. She didn’t want to be reminded of Eddie’s services or Lilly’s demise.
She moved away, Val talking about other parts of the city he’d prowled. Adriana liked his stage-door photos. He’d caught actors and dancers headed for home after productions were over.
“Nice lighting,” she remarked. “And you’ve got a great sense of composition. These are really good.”
“Thank you.” Another smile.
She was even more fascinated by a striking group of photographs depicting panoramic views of Chicago, obviously taken from a great height.
“My heavens, how did you get that shot –“ she mused, as she stared at crisscrossing streets lined with lights and arced by beams from tiny cars.
“I have my ways.”
“You rented a helicopter, right?”
Val merely shrugged as they moved to another photo, a skewed view of steel-and-glass canyons that cut through a forest of tall buildings.
“‘Wow, you must have had the pilot just about stand on his head for that one.”
For some reason, the scene was very familiar to her.
Now he laughed softly.
“It almost makes me dizzy.” Dizzy. As in her dream Adriana suddenly recalled. “I had the wildest dream last night. “I think we were flying.”
“Flying, hmm?”
She tried to explain, “I mean, we were really flying. You know, without a plane.”
“Not an unusual theme for dreams.”
He sounded amused, and that bothered her. But before she had a chance to continue, the gallery’s manager approached to speak to Val.
Afterward, she asked, “Did you make any sales?”
“One, perhaps.”
“Are you disappointed?”
“Money is not the primary objective with my photographs.”
“But surely you want other people’ to enjoy them.”
“I want at least a few to see them. It makes me feel that I truly live.”
What an odd statement. “Well, of course, you live.” She added, “I guess I can understand, though. Any artist likes to be validated by interaction with other people. That’s why I prefer working at the club over being a deejay on a radio program.”
They were still talking about art and interaction when they left the gallery, and Adriana noticed that a poetry slam was being held next door at the Full Moon Cafe.
“Too bad there don t seem to be any empty tables.” The place was packed. “The poetry is sometimes good.” Though Adriana didn’t particularly like the cruel tradition of the slam audience snapping their fingers at poems they didn’t like, hereby humiliating the author.
“We shall listen for awhile if you wish,” said Val. Even as he spoke, three people vacated a table inside the door.
“Well, that’s certainly convenient.”
He pulled out a chair for her, then sat himself. A waitress emerged from the throng to take their order for wine.
A young woman was reciting on the small stage at the other end of the establishment. “Your eyes possess me. Your lips obsess me. The night is wrapped in flesh-colored sheets . . .”
”How appropriate,” Adriana murmured, glancing at Val.
But his attention was focused on the waitress, already delivering two glasses of red. “Are you Mr. Kadar? There’s a phone call for you at the bar.”
He frowned. “A phone call?”
“That’s what the bartender said.”
“Who would be calling me?” He looked none too happy.
“Maybe it’s the manager at the Night Gallery,” Adriana offered. “He could have seen us come in here.”
Val rose. “I shall return in a moment.”
She nodded and sipped some wine. The poet had moved on to another selection about waking up in the morning, cradled in the arms of a lover.
Adriana had never awakened in Val’s arms, at least not in the morning. She decided she was going to ask him to stay overnight. If he was too allergic to the sun to go home then, she’d make them brunch and he could hang around all day. And if Jennifer came back, she’d get a chance to introduce them.
“Adriana?” Pleasant images fled as she faced Stone Drake.
“What are you doing here?” she asked angrily. “I saw you following us earlier. Why aren’t you at work?”
“I took off. What about you?” He came closer, placing a hand on the table and leaning over to meet her eye to eye. “Look, Adriana, you know I’m no saint, but I’ve got to warn you. There’s terrible things going down . . . things I don’t even know the half of. For one, that guy you’re with is some weird dude. I don’t even think he’s human.”
Her heartbeat picked up. “What on earth are you talking about?” If Irina had been spreading rumors, she was going to string the redhead up with one of her own glittery head scarves.
“I followed you last night in another taxi. I saw that whole incident. Kadar ripped the door off the car and dragged the driver out with one hand. And, God . . . h-he had big sharp teeth and his eyes glowed in the dark!”
Cold chills climbed up and down her spine, especially because Stone truly looked freaked. “If this is some ploy to try to cause problems between me and Val, I’ll–”
”I’m not trying to cause problems,” Stone interjected, reaching out to grasp her shoulder for emphasis. “I’m telling the truth, babe. Your life is in danger. Take off. Get out of town. I’m heading for the airport tonight myself.”
Which were the last words the man spoke before he was torn away and shoved with such force he slammed into a table behind him. It fell over, along with a chair containing a shocked customer. Glass crashed, people sprawled and a woman screamed.
Val towered over Stone, glaring. “How dare you touch her!”
“Leave me alone!” Downed, Stone nevertheless managed to scoot backward on his elbows. Blood streamed from his nose – he’d obviously hit it when he fell. “Leave me a
lone, please!” he croaked as Val leaned over and jerked him to his feet.
“Lowborn cur!” Val shook him. “You told them to say I had a phone call, didn’t you? So you could get your hands on Adriana!”
“Val!” In shock, Adriana jumped up and rushed into the fray. “Please! Don’t hurt anyone!”
At least her grasp on Val’s arm made him release Stone, who stumbled backward.
But then Val turned on her, his fiery gaze nearly making her want to cower. “You protect this thief again?”
“Man, I’ve got her mixes in the car,” said Stone, still backing away, wiping blood from his nose on a shirt sleeve. “She’s welcome to them.”
“I don’t care about the mixes!” cried Adriana. “They aren’t that important. I just don’t want to see anyone hurt!”
Val didn’t seem reassured. “You mean you do not wish to see your ex-lover hurt, don’t you?”
“You don’t understand,” said Adriana, glancing around at the interested crowd. She lowered her voice. “And this is not the place to talk.” They were the center of attention, and surely the police were being called. Stone had already split. She urged, “Let’s get out of here.”
Even passers-by had gathered outside the place, but the gathering parted before Val. Adriana followed him closely, and they found a shadowy gangway. Just in time. Adriana glanced back and spotted blazing blue lights. Police cars had descended on the cafe.
They hurried along, coming out into a dark alley. Adriana held her tongue until they’d left the alley behind and crossed a street to blend into a knot of people emerging from a movie theater.
Then she complained breathlessly, “You can’t act this way. It’s not civilized. And it . . . it scares me. You know that. I’ve told you.”
Tight-lipped, Val said nothing.
“I don’t care about Stone,” she insisted, “I don’t even like him.”
“Then why do you come to his defense?”
“Just because I dislike someone doesn’t mean I want to see him picked up and thrown across a room.” She added accusingly, “And if you think so, then we don’t belong together.”
Again, Val didn’t respond. Silently, he stalked past the moviegoers and headed for Michigan Avenue. They were only a couple of blocks from Adriana’s building. Val’s expression was stern and cold as he turned in the direction of Oak .Street. He only stopped when they reached the open intersection from which the lake was visible.
“I believe you are correct, Adriana,” he said finally. “We do not belong together. I am too old-fashioned, too jealous . . . yet too principled. I will not take you against your will, but I cannot tolerate allowing you free choice.”
“What are you talking about with this ‘taking me’ business? Some courtship rite from Hungary?”
He didn’t answer directly. “This will not work between us. I have made a serious mistake.”
“Or else you can learn to deal with your insecurity. We need to have a long discussion.”
“A discussion will change nothing.” He stepped away.
She couldn’t believe him! “Where do you think you’re going?”
“To hell . . . for all I care, if I cannot have you. And he took off.
“Val!” She couldn’t believe it! “How many times do I have to tell you that Stone means nothing.”
But he was already a quarter of the way down the block. She followed, running to catch up, only to find he’d disappeared by the time she reached the corner. As usual, when he wanted to vanish, he did so easily.
She sighed, the fatigue she’d felt before he’d arrived that night seeming to creep right back up on her. Too drained to do a good job at being angry, she made her way back to her building, knowing she could do little more than fall into bed.
She only hoped she could sleep.
LATER THAT NIGHT, Stone Drake left Adriana’s CDs with the doorman in the superstitious hope that giving them back would help alleviate his troubles. Everything had started going wrong right after he’ d approached her about them, the first evening he’d started working at After Dark.
Well, that gig was gone, as well as his paycheck. He’d left without so much as punching out and he didn’t intend to give the place a forwarding address.
He’d been telling Adriana the truth about getting out of town. If she didn’t want to listen, it was her funeral, but he didn’t intend to stick around and deal with heavy hitters like Miklos Rakosi . . . or whatever the hell Valentine Kadar was.
Quickly scanning the street when he came back outside, he headed for his car. At this time of the night, it would only take a half hour to get to the airport.
But before Stone reached his vehicle, a dark figure quietly detached itself from the shadow of a parked van, placing itself directly in his path. A man wearing a broad-brimmed hat and a coat with a cape about the shoulders.
Recognizing him, Stone froze. “You!”
But he stood there only a moment. Then, adrenaline flowing, he took off at a dead run, blindly leaping the barriers of Lake Shore Drive and careening across the highway, all eight lanes. A passing driver hit the brakes.
On the other side, Stone jumped yet another barrier, falling, tumbling down onto the beach. The thud behind him meant his pursuer was still following.
Stone ran on, his feet kicking up sand. Younger than his pursuer, he could surely outdistance the man.
He was wrong.
With tremendous leaps, the man in the caped coat was soon breathing down his neck. And a strong hand slammed him so hard in the back, Stone fell, sprawling.
“No!” he screamed, mouth full of sand.
Then he could only gurgle as a viselike grip pinned him and he realized the relentless, savage visage looming over him would be the last thing he ever saw . . .
CHAPTER TWELVE
ADRIANA FOUND HERSELF able to sleep, despite her unhappiness and agitation. Though she tossed and turned with the most restless, bizarre, yet realistic-seeming dreams. Once she envisioned her lover hovering outside her bedroom window . . . then started as she realized her eyes were wide open.
“Val?”
Even as she spoke, the night sky seemed to shift and she was staring straight into the dark, though she swore she caught sight of a pale scarf fluttering just beyond the window frame.
But Valentin Kadar couldn’t be up here looking in her sixth floor window . . . not unless he could fly.
Thinking of the photos that could only have been taken from mid-air, goose bumps rising on her arms and neck, Adriana threw back the covers and went to investigate. As expected, the night outside was quiet but for occasional cars passing on the drive below. The moon glowed clear and white in the sky, though a mist hung low over the lake.
Her imagination must be running away with her, Adriana decided. Or else she was losing her mind.
She had to settle down. Thinking to fix herself some herbal tea that might bring on a deeper sleep, she headed for the kitchen at the rear of the apartment, not bothering to switch on any lights. With open curtains and blinds, a combination of city illumination and a bright moon made it easy enough to see.
Though she almost stumbled when Phantom mewed and weaved in and out between her legs. It didn’t help when the cat decided to play with the edge of her long nightgown.
“Bad kitty,” she said, not really meaning it. “So you escaped. But Jens isn’t here to insist I lock you up again.”
In the kitchen, which was lit by a fancy nightlight, she poured the cat a small saucer of milk and petted her before running water into the tea kettle. Waiting for the kettle to fill, she opened a cabinet door to get a mug, then the silverware drawer to choose a spoon.
As she did so, a hissing sound startled her. The cat. Phantom faced the back door, her fur standing on end. And her hiss turned into a low growl that ran shivers up and down Adriana’s spine.
“What on earth?”
The door opened to a fire escape with a lower twelve-foot tier that didn’t reach the gr
ound. But after everything that had happened to her lately, Adriana couldn’t help feeling spooked. Without thinking, she grabbed a butcher knife from the silverware drawer and switched off the water.
Phantom’s growl turned into a warning yowl as Adriana advanced to the door.
“Go away, kitty,” she told the cat, stamping her foot. “Hide.”
The cat took off as, heart pounding in her ears, Adriana prepared to do battle. The top of the door was latticed glass and she slid along the wall, craning her neck to look. A dark figure stood against the fire escape railing, staring directly toward her. She was shrouded in shadow but somehow she knew he could see her.
Something pale fluttered . . . a scarf?
“Val?”
With trembling hands, she laid aside the knife, quickly undoing the deadbolt and the other two locks on the door. It swung open and Val came inside to slide his arms about her.
“Forgive me,” he whispered. “It seems that I cannot leave you, after all.”
She reveled in his touch, felt the imprint of each of his fingers through the delicate fabric of the nightgown. “You don’t have to ask for my forgiveness. I never asked you to go.”
Only to control his temper. But maybe that was possible if he could allow himself to become more sure of her. And maybe that just took awhile with a passionate, old-world Hungarian.
To prove her devotion, she slipped her arms about his neck and kissed him as if this were to be their last meeting on earth. He responded with equal fervor, groaning as their tongues danced, as she rocked her hips against him. He picked her up and she wrapped her legs about his waist.
“Your bedroom . . . where is it?” he whispered, easily carrying her down the hallway.
She raised her head to gesture and he entered her door. A little hiss beneath the bed meant Phantom was hiding there.
“Poor kitty, she’s afraid of you.”
“Don’t worry. We shall make friends. Cats like me.”
And then Adriana was aware of nothing but Val, his lips, his hands, the hardness of his body. Throwing his own clothing aside, he drew her nightgown over her head and joined them completely. Adriana writhed, her head thrashing from side to side as he brought her to ecstasy. But she wanted sweeter still and arched her neck.
