“Michael?” Dani whispered.
He nodded, perfectly happy to continue without oxygen if it meant he didn’t have to spoil this moment. Unfortunately, his survival instincts overrode his romantic ones.
At his first hollow gasp, Dani slid off him, returning to her crouched vigil. He would have cursed his body if any brainpower remained from his body’s attempt to reinflate his lungs. He missed the contact of her emotions, feeling diminished without them.
“All right, try to breathe naturally.” Walter reached out to Michael, only to find his wrist held in his daughter’s iron grip.
“Don’t touch him. He doesn’t need the overload.”
“I’ll be okay,” Michael wheezed, grateful for the concern. His head felt as if he were trying to squeeze three or four brains’ worth of memories into his skull—any more and he might burst.
“Twisted up like a pretzel,” Gwen announced from her mother’s lap, her eyes flickering over the room as if searching a crowd. “Over and under and round until we came back home. You can put the salt back now.”
“Welcome back, love.” Virginia cradled her daughter, kissing her sweat-slick hair. Her eyes lifted to find Michael. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” He straightened, wincing. “If Gwen’s message was right, you’re all in terrible danger.” He described the messenger and explained that André was looking for them. “The message was to run. ‘André’ must be André Dalhard, the CEO of Dalhard Industries. They were behind the company your sons tried to work for. He wants power, and he has his sights set on the lalassu as a way to get it.”
“We won’t leave Eric and Vincent behind. Or Bernie,” Dani growled.
“Gwen would be invaluable to them.” Walter’s hands tightened on his chair.
“Bernie, too.” Michael’s stomach turned, knowing she was already trapped. “She must be a medium as well.” He’d failed her all those years, treating her as delusional when she was struggling with something real and beyond her control.
Gwen yawned from her cocoon of blankets. “You missed a message. For Dani.”
“What message?” Dani demanded.
“It’s time now. If you don’t finish the ritual, the darkness swallows us all,” Gwen tossed the words out as if they meant nothing, followed by a yawn. “I’m tired. I want to sleep.”
Michael watched Dani’s olive skin grow pale and her fingers curl into fists. The second-hand terror swelled through their connection, almost enough to make him want to start screaming on the spot. There had to be another way besides letting the monster have her.
“Of course, love.” Virginia stood and shooed them from the room.
As they crossed into the kitchen, a thought occurred to Michael. Dani hadn’t spoken to him since he’d regained consciousness, not since saying his proper name. She stood by the door, rubbing her arms and tapping her foot, gazing out into the darkness as if she longed to be far away. Part of him screamed with impatience to get on with it. Bernie was trapped with no one but Chuck to help her.
But watching Dani, he could see she was trapped, too. She yanked open the screen door and slipped outside.
Michael didn’t wait, didn’t pause for polite explanations. He followed her, practically stepping on her heels. “Dani, wait!”
“You should rest.” Barely visible against the night, she was an apparition of isolated patches of pale skin floating in darkness.
“We need to talk,” he insisted, although his body ached to hold her, give her the comfort she obviously needed. He wanted to forget about the Huntress and his own gifts and take her in his arms. But it wasn’t what Dani needed right now. “Please don’t shut me out.”
“I should have shut you out in the beginning. You’d have been safer if I’d left you sitting in the damn club. You could have died tonight.” The faint hitch of suppressed anguish in her voice betrayed her conflicting emotions.
“I’m still here.” He stepped behind her, sliding his hand along her bare arm. Fear, bitterness, and self-loathing all coated her like oozing poison. It honestly shocked him to see how deep the festering wounds went. She’d covered it so well with her confident, brash persona. He felt her determination to keep him separate, to protect him. He saw her fear that she would only taint him. How could someone so smart be so wrong? For the first time in his life, he wished he could transmit emotion as well as receive. He wanted her to feel how much he loved her.
Love? Somewhere, admiration and a little hero-worship had transmuted into something deeper, more personal. Once past the initial surprise, it felt natural, as though it would be the easiest thing in the world to say.
But not now. Aside from all the challenges they faced, every trained instinct he had warned him this wasn’t the moment to share his feelings. Dani was overwhelmed with hurt and fear. She wouldn’t be able to accept it right now.
“I’m still here,” he repeated. “And I’m not going anywhere. I’ve seen the Huntress. Gwen explained that you’re protecting me just like you protect her.”
“She explained it, did she?” Dani hissed. “Took time out of her busy, crazy day to tell you all about the monster lurking inside her sister? Right before telling me it’s time to feed myself to it?”
Dani’s eyes opened, revealing the brilliant red rings glowing against the night. Michael drew in a sharp breath. He thought he’d seen them in the alley attack but later convinced himself it had only been a reflection.
She closed her eyes and turned away, her weariness and dejection clear without any need for psychic powers.
“Dani, listen to me, please. I know you believed I’d disappear if I knew about the Huntress. But the truth doesn’t frighten me. I’ve been seeing the worst parts of people ever since I was a toddler. My father told me that my gifts came from the Devil. My mother taught me to hide what I sensed, how to avoid casual touch without being obvious.” The bitterness in his voice surprised him. He thought he’d put all this past him long ago, but it still hurt. After over thirty years, a piece of betrayed five-year-old still cowered inside him. “I knew everyone’s worst secrets—how the neighbor’s wife drank until she passed out every night, how my father’s partner stole money for drugs and hookers, I knew about affairs with nannies, addictions, perversions. I drowned in secrets before I even went to grade school. I choked on them.” He stared up at the star-speckled sky. “I hate secrets. I hate hiding. I feel like I’m smothered by lies.”
That was the key, he realized. The Huntress fed on lies. He couldn’t stand not touching her any longer. His fingers sought the smooth line of her cheeks as if drawn by a magnet. She opened her eyes, the red light gone. He felt the quiver of desire waking along her nerves. He pushed back the inky hair falling over her shoulders and savored its silky caress against his knuckles.
“Can the Huntress hear me?” he asked.
Dani stared at him in confusion. “I… it’s buried as deep as I can shove it.”
“Tell it to listen. I’m not afraid of it. I’ve never hidden from secrets, about myself or anyone else. There are no lies between you and me.” He cupped her cool face in his hand, stroking his thumb along her cheekbone. He felt the first stirrings of hope blooming inside her.
She slid her hand over his chest, pressing her body against him. His groin was afire with hardened anticipation. More than anything, he wanted to lose himself in her and drive away the demons haunting them both. Her ragged breathing made her breasts shiver as they brushed against his chest, and he bent his head, ready to steal her breath with a kiss.
Her fear was rising up strongly, drowning the hope. “I can’t control it. I’ve never been able to control it. And it wants you. It wants you as badly as I do.”
“I’m not afraid,” he repeated. He pulled her close again. She could have easily broken his grip, but she let him bring her back into full-body contact. His lips brushed against her cheek as he spoke. “We can figure it out together.”
“I don’t want to hurt you again.” Despite
her protest, her fingers tangled in his hair and her body pressed tighter against his. Between his lust and hers, it was growing harder and harder to think beyond the moment. He wanted to pull her down on the grass and savor her kissing his neck like she was doing now. He wanted to taste the sweetness of her skin and see if it was all as intoxicating as the softness under his lips. Please, just a little…
He sensed it an instant before she did: the coiling predator ready to strike. He readied himself to strike back.
But Dani ripped away as if propelled by electrical current. “Even if you could survive, it would still need to feed. I’d still be the monster it’s made me.” She shook her head. “I can’t risk it, Michael. I couldn’t live with myself if it hurts you. I saw your face after I beat up Redneck. I smelled your disgust. I’m not the hero you wanted me to be.”
“You are a hero.” Michael had a moment of clarity. It wasn’t fair to put comic-book expectations on real life. “I won’t lie to you. It did bother me. But it was more about me than you. I’ve cheered the bad guys being beaten up a thousand times, but that time I had to actually see it. It wasn’t what I expected. Dani, you can still be a hero. You’ve got these amazing powers, and you could help a lot of people.”
He took her hand in his, wanting to know if he was reaching her. To his relief, the self-disgust was fading, replaced with determination. He pulled her close, confident they would find a way, no matter the odds.
SATURDAY
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Damn. Whoever they got on the grill knows his work.” Vincent happily sawed into his rare steak.
The night before faded like a dream in sunlight when the brothers woke in a luxury suite—like a five-star hotel with plush couches, decadent artwork, and expensive furnishings, but still a prison. No windows broke the silk wallpaper. The only door was locked, and Eric could smell the guards on the other side—for their “protection,” no doubt. Breakfast arrived on a room service cart, delivered by anonymous staff who didn’t speak or make eye contact.
There had been no further contact by Dalhard. The brothers were left to their own devices, which meant that Vincent indulged in food and drink, and Eric brooded.
Eric ignored his brother, pushing fruit around his plate. The muscles in his arms bunched and twitched as he forced himself to remember the feeling of muscle and bone suddenly snapping under his hands. To see living, breathing flesh become lifeless meat at the flick of a switch. I did it. I took his life. Not to protect, not to save anyone. Just because Dalhard told me to. I let him think I was a killer for hire.
It was a mantra he had repeated dozens of times since the interview. He lashed himself with it like a medieval monk, drawing emotional blood over and over. Not because he wanted to be punished but because it was the only way to keep himself sane. His only hope was that the dead man passed on his message to Gwen, giving the family time to run.
The alien presence still squatted in his mind, pumping lulling poisons into his thoughts, trying to anesthetize his memories. It wore on him like water against a stone, grinding away at the pain and shame.
Forcing himself to relive the murder was the only way to keep hold of himself and who he was. He was no longer a good guy. He was a murderer. He deserved the label.
Vincent popped a chunk of meat dripping with juice into his mouth with every sign of satisfaction. Whatever Dalhard had tried to do to Eric, it had worked on his little brother. The weak scent of blood from the rare steak stopped his breath. Eric shoved aside his still-full plate, unable to swallow the food past his disgust.
“Gotta eat, bro,” Vincent told him.
“Later.” Eric got up, prowling around the spacious suite. He had to find a way to get Vincent out of here. Dalhard had to let them out sometime. “I’m not hungry.”
“Your loss.” Vincent shrugged. “This is a hell of a lot better than before.”
Eric stopped. Careful. They have to be monitoring us. “Before?”
“You know. Downstairs.”
“The cells,” Eric prompted. Maybe Vincent wasn’t lost.
“Yeah. This beats that all to hell.” Vincent waved the cutlery in wide circles. “I think our luck has changed.”
Maybe he doesn’t remember. Eric knew the smart thing would be to keep in character, maintaining the illusion Dalhard’s powers worked on him, too. But he couldn’t quite stop himself. “They made us kill someone.” He said the words as quietly as he could.
“Hey, it was him or me, and I’m all kinds of okay with me still being here. Besides, you heard what the guy said—dude was a psychopath. Cutting up kittens for entrees or some shit like that.”
Because it would be so impossible for Dalhard to have lied. Eric turned away, unable to watch his brother’s carefree demeanor. He did remember, but no heaviness of remorse or guilt marred his scent. Vincent was fine with what had happened.
“Come on, Eric. Don’t get all brooding on me. We have a real chance here. This place has money coming out of the fucking walls. We can be a part of that. No hiding who we are. It’s what we always wanted.”
Eric looked at the silk-covered walls, the elegant furniture, and the sumptuous meal. “It’s not what I wanted.”
Shitfuckcrap.
The unmarked cop car tailing her had been easy to spot even before the lights began to flash. She wasn’t speeding; the taillights were fine. What the hell was this about? Dani pulled over, tempted to pound on the steering wheel in frustration. But breaking her car wouldn’t help anything. Her teeth ground together as her day went bad to worse.
First came the almost-sleepless night broken by disturbing dreams. Someone calling to her, someone she was hiding from. She knew deep down in her bones that if she moved, the monster would find her. And it had, no matter how often she’d run or how quiet she tried to be. It tore her to pieces, leaving her trapped and helpless in her own body.
Having Michael just down the hall in the guest bedroom added its own brand of torture: knowing how easy it would have been to ease the sexual frustration seething in her, but no matter how confident he was, she couldn’t risk his life and soul. She knew the Huntress and had watched it work. If he was wrong… the possibility had driven her nails deep into her palms and thighs, leaving bloodstains on the sheets in the morning.
She’d made the decision last night while Michael held her. She’d protect Michael from himself and do the ritual. She’d throw herself into the Huntress with the knowledge that she was living up to what he believed she could be, and that he would be safe. Then Gwen wouldn’t have to leave her sanctuary on the farm, and the Goddess would help them to rescue the others, offering the sort of detailed tactical plans she’d seen recorded in the Priestess journals. The Goddess had been able to warn the lalassu about fleeing on certain ships, such as the Titanic. She’d told them the best way to smuggle their people out of Nazi concentration camps. Dani hoped the ritual would reset everything, putting it back to the way it should have been instead of further distorting the conduit. It wasn’t like they had anything else to work with. The ritual was their only real chance at success. Michael would want to hold out for another way but every predatory instinct in her body told her there was no more time. Eventually, he would understand.
She’d planned to tell her parents in the morning, but when the time came, her mother hadn’t been able to resist pointing out how the ritual was Dani’s responsibility and how selfish Dani was to put her own petty pursuits above a divine calling. It was the same old story. Experience told her that even if she tried to explain, her mother wouldn’t listen, insisting that everything Dani claimed to experience was a lie, a story she made up to avoid her responsibilities. Even her father insisted she must be mistaken, that the conduit didn’t work the way she described. She couldn’t listen to one more lecture of parental disappointment and stormed away to her car. Her only regret was that Michael had been busy helping Gwen and she hadn’t had the time to tell him what she’d decided. She’d driven into the city to tel
l Vapor instead. He could help her parents organize a rescue afterward.
Being pulled over by a cop car added a moldy cherry on top of the smoldering pile of crap that was her day. Vapor did not deal well with lateness, but she was not about to do anything so stupid as tipping off the authorities to his existence by calling to tell him what was happening.
Dani caught the scent of gun oil and nerves as soon as she rolled down the window. Officer Stalker waited, his muscled arms crossed over his chest. Cute. Hispanic. Crap. Michael’s friend, the cop from the attack in the alley behind the club. He held up his badge.
“Danielle Hayden.”
That was her alias to get the job at the club. Damn. Why couldn’t this be about a speeding ticket?
“Come with me.” He stared down at her, his eyes hidden behind the blank glare of mirrored sunglasses.
“You’ve been following me for the last ten minutes to tell me that?” she drawled, hoping he might be enticed.
“I’ve been searching for you since last night when I recognized your pictures in the employee files. You’re under arrest for assault.” No humor, only a seething fierceness wafting from under his professional mask. He was looking for an excuse to take her down.
A week ago, she’d have given him a royal brawl. Today, she didn’t resist as he ordered her out of her car, snapped cuffs around her wrists, and tucked her into the police car. She wasn’t going to hurt anyone else, especially not one of Michael’s friends.
At the station, he hurried her into an interrogation room. Bare gray walls dominated by a one-way mirror, metal table, just like dozens of others.
“I’m Detective Joe Cabrera. This is the part where I’m supposed to slap a thick file full of crime scene photos and lab reports on the table and tell you you’re in a lot of trouble.” He laid a heavy folder on the table between them. “Something tells me it wouldn’t impress you. In fact, something tells me that trouble is a comfortable state for you.”
Revelations: Book One of the Lalassu Page 18
