I finally shed the robe and surfaced to hear Sam say, “Whoops.” She gave me a predatory grin. But the smile never reached her eyes. Instead resentment looked out at me.
I pushed sopping hair out of my eyes, coughed, and managed to croak, “Are you insane?” I could feel the chlorine stinging the wound in my leg.
“Nope, I just find insecure people really boring, and I’m never reassuring. So, do you want to fuck?”
It was a boy’s trick. Use the crudest term possible, remove any possibility of personal or emotional contact, and reduce the person being propositioned to an object. I hadn’t been a psychology minor for nothing.
“You just can’t stand it that I’ve seen you vulnerable, scared, and crazy, and that I made you well,” I said.
We were face-to-face. I watched the self-satisfied smirk melt, replaced with blazing anger. My own anger drowned out the faint arousal I had felt. I looked down at the rounded tops of her breasts, and decided that two could play her game. Leaning forward, I pressed my mouth down hard on hers.
She didn’t respond. I hadn’t expected her to. Instead her arms windmilled, a bare foot caught me on the shin, and she went splashing out of reach. She sputtered, hooked her arm through the ladder, and glared.
“I thought you wanted to fuck,” I said as blandly as I could manage.
“I was just fucking with you,” Sam said.
“Really? It doesn’t seem like it.”
She grabbed the ladder and pulled herself out of the water. Every movement betrayed her annoyance. Snatching up her towel, she stalked for the elevator, her feet slapping wetly on the elaborate tiled floor.
“Sam.” I tried to give my voice that snap of command that comes so easily for Weber. I must have come close, because the young FBI agent stopped and turned back slowly. I stroked over to the side of the pool, folded my arms on the edge, and rested my chin.
“What?”
“Look, we can play mind games with each other, and keep score in blushes and outrage, or we can work together. Your choice.”
She walked back and squatted down in front of me. “I want to understand you.”
“I’m not that complex.”
“I resent you.”
“I know.”
“I think I really do want to fuck you.”
Well, that I hadn’t expected. “We’ll … uh, discuss it,” was the best I could manage.
NINETEEN
RICHARD
An intense wet dream yanked me awake. I wouldn’t have minded the damp and the sticky touch of semen if I’d actually gotten laid, but I hated to awaken with that acrid and musty smell and my thighs coated. My first gymnastics coach used to say I was like a cat because I hated to be sweaty or smell, and it wasn’t a compliment. The man hated cats. He hadn’t much liked me either.
The travertine tile in the bathroom was cold underfoot as I stripped off my pajamas. I ran hot water and swept the washcloth up my legs, feeling goose bumps bloom on my skin. I limped into the closet, dumped the pajamas in the hamper, and pulled out a new pair. I tried to balance on my injured leg, then decided to be a smart wimp and sit down to pull them on.
That done, I stood in the closet door, staring at the bed and trying to imagine sleep. It wasn’t going to happen. Moonlight poured through the windows, making it easy to navigate around the living room. I had to be quiet. If any of them woke up they’d come and cluck at me.
I settled down on the piano stool, opened the lid, and brushed my fingers softly across the keys. It was just a feather’s touch, but it drew a whisper of sound. I froze, but there was no reaction from the bedrooms. I relaxed again and tried to think about the day, but the only memory that stuck was of the swimming pool and Sam.
“I want to fuck you.”
And damn, I wanted to meet the request. Four years. It had been four years. As a teenager I had been scared to death to take recreational drugs, and I’d never been able to hold liquor worth a damn. Give me a few drinks and I’d end up in somebody’s bed. Which brought me face-to-face with my greatest vice—I loved sex. If I did a burst of pop psychology on myself I’d say it was because I feel lonely and unloved so I seek intimacy, and mistake sex for love. Or maybe I just really liked sex. At least until sex became inextricably bound up with pain and guilt about my sexuality.
Life without sex won’t kill you.
But I miss it.
So maybe you ought to take Sam up on her offer.
Sam’s sardonic half smile seemed to hang in front of me, and I knew that even if I got into bed with her it wouldn’t be sex. It would be a competition, which would only add to my anxiety. And anxiety meant impotence. I’d never be able to get it up.
I closed the lid on the Steinway, moved to the window. Heat washed through my body, and I felt sweat prickling all along my back. My breath fogged the glass, blossoming and retreating with each exhalation. I rested my forehead against the glass and relished the ache from the cold.
I shouldn’t be thinking about this. We’ve got bigger problems than my dick—
There was the slap of bare feet on the polished floor. I jerked upright and whirled to see Grenier waddling out of the dining room. He was carrying a large mug and a plate piled high with slices of toast. Steam formed a waving pennant over the top of the mug and carried the rich smell of Mexican chocolate and cinnamon throughout the room.
“Can’t sleep?” the former minister said.
“No, I’m sleepwalking. What do you think?” I immediately regretted the tone. It made me sound petulant. I folded my lips together to try to keep any other little croakers from emerging.
Seemingly unruffled, Grenier held out the plate, an implicit invitation. I was going to refuse, but my stomach gave a sharp rumble. I hadn’t been able to choke down much dinner, and the butter, powdered sugar, and cinnamon drenching the bread proved irresistible. The bread was still warm in my hand as I took a slice. The first bite sent powdered sugar puffing upward to dust my upper lip. Hot and sweet burst across my tongue. It tasted wonderful.
“What’s wrong?” Grenier asked.
I couldn’t hold back the sharp, short bark of sardonic laughter. “What isn’t.”
The man settled his bulk into an armchair. “So, putting aside for the moment that alien creatures are invading the Earth from alternate dimensions, tell me what’s bothering you.”
Opposing instincts and emotions buffeted me, each struggling for primacy. Intellectually I could neither forget nor forgive what the man had done to my mother. And to me. But Grenier was the first person who had expressed an interest in just talking with me instead of harping at me.
That made me feel disloyal, and I started to run through everyone as I tried to prove to myself that there was someone else I could turn to other than the man who’d run electric current through my balls.
Grenier began to talk, and it was like he’d been reading my mind. “Really, Richard, who else have you got? Angela? She’s in love with you, and you’re not in love with her. If you turn to her she’ll read way more into it than you want.”
My traitorous mind added another reason to reject her. Hearing that you’re doing great when you know you aren’t is neither comforting nor helpful. Someone who is unfailingly supportive might make me feel better, but I distrusted it on principle.
“Then there’s your terrifying sire. Dear God, is the man never satisfied?”
No, I answered internally.
“Ms. Reitlingen hasn’t totally grasped that the P&L statements aren’t your most pressing problem. And your sister …” He just raised his eyebrows.
Yep, Pamela and I exchanged an average of two snipes a day.
“Sam resents you because she’s beholden to you. Syd worships you, which must be wearing. And you don’t get to work with your best friend and mentor.” Was there a knowing gleam in the hazel eyes? It was gone before I could pin it down. “Because crime is on the rise and he has little time for you.” He paused to consume a slice of toast. “Which leaves
you with me.”
I looked hard into his round face. “I can’t trust you,” I said rather weakly.
“I’m not asking you to, Richard. But you can talk to me. Because you can trust me on this—there is no way I am leaving the protection of this place and you.”
I returned to the piano bench, and took another bite of cinnamon toast while I tried to order my chaotic thoughts. I decided to do exactly that.
“I don’t know where to start, and I don’t just mean about this conversation. I mean about everything. I don’t know where to put my energies. Dagmar wants me to learn about the company and run it. Angela bugs me constantly about Kenntnis. Papa reminds me that if we don’t have the company we won’t have the funds to do whatever it is we’re going to do about Kenntnis. But I have no idea what to do about Kenntnis.”
“It sounds like you’re doing a lot, but accomplishing very little.”
“Yeah, that sounds about right.” I stood up and paced even though it hurt. “Everybody’s got an opinion. But everybody wants me to do something different.” I pressed the palm of my hand against my forehead as if that could force order on the churning mess inside my head.
“You listen. Then you go away and make the decisions. Maybe with the help of a single advisor,” Grenier said.
I raised an eyebrow at him. “And would that be a role you’re envisioning for yourself? Because if it is … don’t.”
Grenier smiled, and consumed another piece of toast in three big bites. “I’m many things—” he said thickly around the wad in his mouth.
“Selfish, self-centered, cruel, power hungry, greedy?” I suggested.
“But not stupid,” Grenier concluded blandly.
The eighteenth-century French clock struck the quarter hour. I didn’t turn around to look because I dreaded knowing the actual time. I was going to pay a heavy price for this bout of insomnia. All the tasks that would fill the coming day crashed into my head. A thundering headache was already starting. I pressed the heels of my hands hard against my temples.
“What is it that’s bothering you? Really?” Grenier asked.
The words slipped out. “I’m scared.” And the harsh truth of that admission left me limp.
“You weren’t scared when I captured you. Frightened by the pain, but not frozen like you are now. I saw the man you’re destined to become—if you’ll get out of your own way.”
“I had a plan. I knew what I was doing. I didn’t know if it would work, but there was at least the chance.” I limped over so I could look down at Grenier. “And I’m not frozen. Just the opposite. I feel like I don’t even have time to breathe.”
“Or think. Which means you can’t plan. It’s a feedback loop, and a bad one.”
“I know that.” My voice seemed to boom in the room. I quickly moderated my tone. “Thank you so much for stating the obvious.”
“You need to take some time to relax. Your mind will work better.”
“I can’t. The world is collapsing.”
“But very slowly.” Grenier frowned, rolling the mug between his palms. I could tell he was puzzled and disgruntled, so I decided to push.
“And why is that?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I thought the gates would open, nations would collapse, and I’d be a satrap in the new world order. But it isn’t happening that way.”
I was struck by that, and it helped answer a question that had been nagging at me. “Maybe that’s why our government, and all the rest of the world’s governments, aren’t reacting,” I mused. “You can ignore or explain away a little weirdness, and nobody wants to believe this is really happening.”
“And by the time the weirdness becomes too big to ignore, or people realize it is happening, it might be too late to stop the Old Ones.” Grenier drained the last of his cocoa. “I don’t know what’s happening at the gate, but my guess is that the Old Ones will moderate the craziness. The word will go out from thousands of pulpits that the demons appeared because Hell was trying to prevent the Lord’s return. That’s what I would be saying if I still had a pulpit to preach from.”
“The Second Coming isn’t supposed to happen in Virginia.”
“Pffft.” Grenier waved away the objection. “I could explain that in a second.” His voice took on a deeper, more musical resonance. “America is the only sure bastion of freedom and opportunity in the world. America is the nation most loved by God.”
In that moment I could totally see how Grenier had become one of the most famous and successful evangelists in America. I knew it was bullshit, but I still felt a flutter of pride at the words, because I was moved by the certainty and sincerity in Grenier’s voice.
I shook my head to break the spell and asked, “So, what will happen when … if the government does decide to act?”
“The gate will be defended by thousands of the faithful.”
I shivered even though the room wasn’t cold.
TWENTY
Pamela was listening to four distinct conversations that were occurring at the dining room table.
Dagmar and her father—
“… both of the New Mexico labs are under lockdown. I can’t reach anyone.” Dagmar was making excuses. Pamela wanted to tell her not to bother. The judge wouldn’t buy it.
“There are universities,” the judge said, proving Pamela’s point if only to herself. “I don’t think you’re devoting enough time to it.”
“Okay, yes, you’re right. It isn’t my top priority. This company is my top priority. It has to be managed.”
Because Richard sure as hell isn’t doing it, Pamela thought. She glanced at her brother, seated at the head of the table, and watched him flinch and the color rise into his pale cheeks. He’d obviously overheard the exchange. Good, maybe it would get him to focus.
Weber’s rough voice drew her attention. “We’re the only first world country that still has the death penalty.” The incongruity of that statement emerging from a policeman’s mouth had her turning her attention to him.
Grenier’s rounded vowels danced with amusement. “I personally like that old-time justice along with my old-time religion. An eye for an eye.”
Syd and Sam were arguing with each other.
Syd said, “I think we ought to formally resign. Hell, we may be fired anyway.”
Sam countered, “Hell no, we want to keep a toehold in the agency. And we can’t abandon everyone.”
“We make mistakes. We try not to, but it happens,” Weber was saying. “I see enough crap. I don’t want to deal death unless I’m damn sure we’re right.”
Grenier leaned across Pamela to say to Angela, “Did you hear that? Lieutenant Weber says you are incompetent.” His bulging belly brushed against her arm. Pamela pulled it close in to her side.
“No he didn’t,” Angela replied coolly, but her hatred for the former minister blazed in her dark eyes. “He said to err is human, and since there is no God to sort it out we’d damn sure better not do anything irrevocable. Oh, that reminds me.” She leaned across the table toward Weber. “That body … not a Taser. Those were sucker marks.”
“Suckers don’t leave burns. And I haven’t heard of any cephalopods escaping from the aquarium.” It was a ponderous attempt at humor from the cop, but his eyes kept darting around as if he were looking for a way out.
“That’s because it was caused by magic,” Angela said. It was clear this was the continuation of an ongoing argument.
Weber’s lips and eyes squeezed shut. Repudiation by silence. The skin around the cop’s jaw sagged, and pouches hung beneath his eyes. Weariness created the effect that his face was melting.
Pamela took a few more bites of salmon loaf with cream dill sauce, and had to praise the genius who cooked every meal for both the residents of the penthouse and the employees in their dining room. She’d never seen a company where meals were provided, but she decided she approved.
She caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Richard had stood up and was heading
into the kitchen. He had his finger pressed against his temple. Angela made a move as if to follow, but sank back down in her chair when Weber shook his head. Pamela had no such compunction. She followed.
Her brother was inspecting a tray of pastries. Napoleons, eclairs, Sacher torte, cannoli; Pamela stared at the diabetes-inducing array and shook her head. Large silver carafes steamed and burbled, filling the air with the smell of fresh-brewed coffee. A basket held fifteen varieties of tea. Richard turned at the sound of her footsteps and forced a smile.
“The last rehearsal I hosted, I opened up a Sara Lee frozen cheesecake. I did tart it up with some frozen raspberries.” He selected a caffeine-free peppermint tea out of the basket.
“Stomach bothering you?” Pamela asked. He nodded, and filled the cup with boiling water from one of the carafes. “It should give you a hint. You shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Pamela, I can’t work all the time. I’ve got to take a break, or my head’s going to explode. So just leave me alone, okay? You can go downstairs and work all you want.”
“Putting aside that I think this is frivolous, your own security chief thought it was a risk.”
“That was before Joseph investigated.” He pulled the tea bag out of his cup, and tossed it into the trash compactor. The smell of peppermint tickled at her nose. “Bob, Lee, and Susanna are going about their lives without any overt signs of craziness. When they enter the lobby they’ll be scanned for weapons, and Cross has promised to see if any of the three are armed with spells. I think we’ve got it covered. Oh, and thank you for your concern,” her brother said, and he didn’t make any effort to disguise the sarcasm.
The Edge of Ruin Page 13
