“Yeah, you’re a laugh riot. Have more wine if you want. I’ll go upstairs and change. I’ll be right back.”
* * *
We walked out my front door to the street, arguing about which car to take. She insisted on taking her Jeep, saying it would come in handy.
“What do you mean? How will it come in handy? Are we going four-wheeling?”
She tugged on my coat sleeve, as I veered off in the direction of my garage to fetch my BMW, then she grabbed my arm and pulled me over to the beat-up Jeep at the curb.
She grinned. “No, but I gather from my informant that our destination isn’t car-friendly. Apparently, the ‘staking’ is happening in some abandoned area. We’ll have to camouflage the Jeep and walk to the main event. I like to make a surprise entrance. That way I get to see more than they intend for me to see.”
“So?” I shook my arm loose. “How does that put my car out of the running? My comfortable little ride can hide in the shadows as easily as your Jeep. You’re just prejudiced against slick cars.”
She opened the passenger side of the Jeep and shoved at me until I was all the way in. Damn, she was strong.
“Hey! No pushing! You’ll wrinkle my favorite suede coat.”
She circled around the front of the car and slid behind the wheel.
“Sorry,” she said, not appearing sorry at all. “Are you saying my Jeep’s not slick? I’ll have you know this vehicle has gotten me out of more tough spots than I can count. Take a look behind you.” She clicked on the inside light, twisted in her seat, reached into the back, and lifted a blanket.
I shifted in my seat and goggled. The back of the Jeep was filled with an assortment of shovels, tools, food, cold weather supplies, a tent, outdoor cooking equipment, flashlights, candles, what appeared to be sharpened stakes, and weapons—guns and knives.
Guns. Knives.
I slowly turned my eyes to hers, my stomach tightening. “What the hell, Maxie? Are you some kind of survivalist? Why do you have guns? And what’s with the stakes? I thought you’d never encountered a real vampire?”
“Chill, Doc. You’ve obviously led a very sheltered life. In my line of work, I deal with all manner of slime bags. Before I figured out the degree to which I needed to take care of myself, I barely escaped from some dangerous situations. It’s impossible to be a reporter if you aren’t going to follow the vermin into their holes. And, as far as the stakes, they’re amazingly effective at scaring off vampire wannabes. I’ll use whatever works.” She replaced the blanket and reached into a storage box between our two seats. She pulled out a strip of leather and tied it around her hair, making the longest ponytail—or, rather, horse tail—I’d ever seen. She saw me watching her and smiled.
“Still fascinated with the white hair?”
“No. Well, yes, but I was wondering how you deal with hair that long. Doesn’t it get in the way? Isn’t it heavy?” I thought about the relentless weight of my own hair and mine was only half as long as hers.
“Nope. I’m used to it. It’s just another one of my many charming idiosyncrasies. Besides, my significant other likes it this way.”
“Significant other? The plot thickens. You didn’t mention anything about that before.”
She slanted a glance at me and gave a mysterious smile. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” She started the Jeep, shut off the inside light, and pulled onto the road.
“What makes you think I have something to tell?”
“Let’s just say that it isn’t easy for an incredibly gorgeous, wealthy man to avoid being stalked by reporters and the paparazzi. Even in Denver. Showing up on his arm once might have indicated a casual friendship. But there were repeated sightings. And then you moved your counseling practice into his building. The only business on the premises, I might add, that isn’t owned by his international conglomeration. Demented little inquiring minds want to know, Doc, and my rag of a newspaper intends to supply the answers. Devereux is an incredible man. Odd, though, that there’s no mention anywhere of a last name. He’s quite the mystery man. You wouldn’t happen to know what his last name is, would you?”
I glared. “Are we back to interviewing me, Maxie?”
“Mea culpa,” she grinned. “Old habits die hard.”
I had to hand it to her. That was a smooth move. She wasn’t any better at turning off her professional persona than I was.
“Okay. So you know about Devereux. It’s not a secret. What about you? Who’s your … person?” I never made assumptions about anyone’s sexual orientation.
“That was very politically correct of you, Doc. I happen to be a flaming heterosexual. I’ve always had a healthy appetite for energetic cocksmen. And right now I’m hopelessly mad about a man who’s too busy to pay any attention to me. He travels a lot for work.”
“Will I get to meet this energetic … man?” No wonder she felt so alone. The elusive boyfriend explained a lot.
“Well, it’s not out of the realm of possibility, but I seriously doubt it. He doesn’t live in Denver and I never know when he’s going to show up. But we make up for it with great phone sex.”
“Well, then.” I laughed. “It sounds like the perfect modern relationship to me.”
She smiled. “Yeah, but sex is certainly more fun when he’s actually in the room with me.”
Appreciating the truth of that statement, I grinned and stared out the window at the full moon, wondering where my sex object was. It was probably better that I didn’t know, though, since I was sure he’d be angry that I’d fled protective custody. I swiveled my head to glance behind me, just to make sure he hadn’t materialized. I never knew where he’d turn up. Devereux could literally be anywhere in a multitude of universes and still show up in a heartbeat to surprise me. And the ease with which I contemplated that bizarre thought made me shake my head. How weird was it that my vocabulary now included words like parallel dimensions, simultaneous existence, auras, etheric bodies, and Merlin, of all things.
Leave it to me to fall for a guy whose mother was an apparition and whose extended family included a famous, ancient wizard. I’d recently realized that I’d stopped labeling Devereux’s vampirism as the strangest thing about him. I hadn’t exactly gotten used to it, but in the midst of all his other disturbing tendencies, blood drinking didn’t rate very high on the fright meter anymore. Amazing, what one can acclimate to. Especially when it was linked with great sex.
I roused myself from my daydream and noticed we’d traveled away from the lights of the downtown area. We probably hadn’t been driving that long, but I’d lost track of time. “Where the hell is this place? Kansas?”
“Nope.” She chuckled. “We’re still in Denver. I took a back route so nobody would see us arrive. Here we are.”
She angled the car off the road, edged it between two rows of trees, and killed the engine.
I leaned forward and peered through the windshield. Thanks to the lunar illumination, it was easy to see in the dark. I pointed. “What is this place? That rickety thing looks like … it looks like some old roller coaster or something.” I swiveled my head toward Maxie. “This is where we’re going? An abandoned amusement park?”
“Bingo, Doc. I don’t know how long you’ve been in Denver, but the fire that destroyed half of this place was the talk of the town. It was arson. We wouldn’t have our fancy new, state-of-the-art tourist trap downtown if the little pyromaniac bugger hadn’t torched this one. And are you ready for this? The jerk set the fire because he was a pyromancer.”
I frowned. “A what? I’m not familiar with that term.”
Maxie nodded. “A pyromancer. Somebody who reads the future by interpreting flames. This is right up your alley, actually. At his trial, the little creep testified that the voices in his head told him to barbecue the whole park so he could write his own book of future predictions like Nostradamus. There’s an asshole born every minute. Come on. Let’s collect supplies.”
She opened her door, stepped o
ut, and quietly pushed it closed. I followed her example and tiptoed around to the back of the Jeep.
“Are you sure this is where the thing is happening?” I glanced around. “I don’t see anybody. It’s so quiet.”
She popped open the plastic flap covering the rear window and peeled it back, flopping it up on the roof. “Shhhh. We’re on the other side of the park, but you never know who’s lurking.” She pointed to a bent, broken chain-link fence. “We’ll be crawling in under that fence and skulking around, on the lookout for a good place to observe.” She studied my clothes, her lips pursed. “The jeans, sweater, and hiking boots are great, but you might want to lose the coat—if it really is your favorite. Leave it in the car or it will get filthy. I have a couple of parkas here in the back. You can use one.”
I started to complain that I didn’t want to crawl anywhere, but she’d already turned her attention to grabbing supplies from her rolling disaster-preparedness stash.
Surrendering to the inevitable, I shrugged out of my coat, took my cell phone, wallet, and keys out of the pockets, and exchanged it for one of the black parkas. The silky, pillowy fabric was too warm for the mild weather, and it made me feel like the Pillsbury Doughboy. I crammed all my things into one large pocket, and filled the other with the flashlight, tape recorder, pocketknife, writing pad, and pen Maxie thrust into my hands.
“Okay. You have to take one of these. Which one do you think you could handle?” She held out a stun gun and a pistol, and shifted her weight from side to side impatiently as I stared at both the foreign objects in her hands. “Well? What’s the problem?”
“What’s the problem?” I whispered, louder than I probably should have. “You didn’t say anything about needing to be armed to attend this crap fest. What the hell are we going to do with weapons? I thought we were just going to hide out and watch. Are you planning to burst in and take hostages, or something?” This adventure had transformed from being an interesting change of pace, to something that made fear coil in my stomach.
Maxie stared at the ground and shook her head. She lowered the weapons to her sides, then raised her eyes up to mine. “I’m sorry. I’m used to doing these crazy things alone and I psych myself up for whatever’s going to happen. I should’ve told you that there’s always a chance some weirdo will freak out and do something violent. After all, if these people were normal and healthy, they probably wouldn’t be here. You should be used to unpredictable, mentally whacked people.” She brought the pistol and the stun gun into the space between us again. “I need you to choose one of these, just so I can be sure you have something to defend yourself with. You could use the pocketknife, but a perpetrator would have to get awfully close and personal before it would be a good option.”
She held the small pistol out to me. “Have you ever fired one of these?”
I took the gun. “Just a few times, when an old boyfriend dragged me to the firing range. I wasn’t very good. I’d probably shoot myself in the foot.”
In fact, I shot him in the foot back then.
“No, you won’t. It has a safety. Here, I’ll show you.” She demonstrated and then handed the gun back to me. “Take it, okay? Just in case.”
My hand tingled when I took the weapon, as if my skin was trying to reject all the emotions trapped in the handle. Not a good feeling.
“I really hate this, Maxie. This isn’t my idea of fun at all. You’re going to owe me big-time. Crawling in the dirt, carrying a gun, prowling through the burned-out remains of an amusement park—next time we listen to jazz and drink margaritas.”
She grinned and patted my shoulder. “Way to suck it up, my friend. What a trouper. This will be an adventure you’ll never forget.” She angled over to check out the back of the Jeep again and nodded. “Yes. I think we have everything we need. Let’s rumble.” She fastened the flap over the rear window, zipped the front of her jacket, and trotted toward the fence.
She shot me a glance over her shoulder. “Hey, you’d better zip up unless you want dirt and soot all over that fine rack.”
I heard her laughing as she effortlessly glided to a gaping section of fence. I looked down to zip the parka, still walking fast to catch up with Maxie, and tripped over an exposed tree root. Thanks to the foamy coat, I barely made a sound as I hit the ground. I raised my head in time to watch Maxie crawl under the fence, stand, and stride off, disappearing behind the ruins of a building.
“Maxie?” I croaked.
Chapter Seven
Silence.
I struggled to my feet and brushed off dirt, twigs, and a used condom. The damn coat was so bulky it was like wearing an extra-large fat suit. I finished tugging up the zipper and jogged over to the fence, staring at the curled-up corner.
Squatting, I examined the opening, talking to myself.
“How the hell am I supposed to cram this huge hot-air balloon of a parka through that small hole in the chain link? Of course, Maxie’s leather jacket slid right through. What was the point of dressing me up like the Michelin Man?”
I peeled off the jacket, pushed it through the bent corner of the fence, dropped to my hands and knees, then slid under on my stomach. The ground appeared relatively smooth, indicating that many people had made the journey before me.
Emerging on the other side, I stood, rotating my shoulders. I hated to put the parka back on again, but if Maxie thought it was important for me to have a gun, I probably should at least keep my hands free. I retrieved the fluffy beast, slipped it on, and took a few tentative steps into a maze of building remains. The full moon shone large and bright, like a cosmic lantern. Thanks to the extra light, it should have been easy to find Maxie, but she was nowhere in sight.
Thinking it would probably be better if I weren’t quite so visible, I detoured along a partial wall and scanned the area. This was definitely a weird place. Not only because of the scorched landscape—although that definitely qualified as creepy—but because of the ominous vibe. Something triggered my inner alarm. I couldn’t put my finger on what was off, but the air felt heavy—dangerous. Maybe Maxie was right about lunatics hiding in the shadows. I reached into my pocket and wrapped my fingers around the gun, but instead of reassuring me, it terrified me. I turned my head slowly from side to side, watching for—what? Nothing had happened to make me anxious, but all of a sudden, my gut clenched and my breath caught, as if I was sensing something—or someone—I couldn’t see.
“Maxie?” I whispered as loudly as I dared.
A feeling of dread washed over me and I froze, trying to figure out where the threat was coming from. If there even was a threat. I was torn between thinking my imagination was working overtime and wanting to trust my intuition. My heart pounded and my body temperature spiked so high that I unzipped the coat and used the edge to fan myself.
What was happening to me? I’d never had a panic attack before, but whatever my body was doing seemed to fit all the symptoms. Maybe I was just picking up the energy echoes from the chaos of the fire? I’d prefer that explanation to thinking I was losing my mind.
Then I heard a soft groan. I shifted my eyes in both directions, looking for the source of the low sound, and heard it again. Closer this time, but I still couldn’t see anyone near me. I jumped as a hand stroked the side of my face, then fingers trailed down my neck. I gasped and heard another groan. My whole body contracted in terror. I reached up to swat the invisible hand away, but there was nothing there. Yet I could still feel it—it was as real as my own skin—and the longer the phantom hand touched me, the more my muscles cramped.
Footsteps pounded toward me. “Kismet? Where are you?”
I must have been holding my breath, because so much air escaped from my mouth that I coughed and doubled over. The unseen hand was gone. “Maxie? Here. I’m over here.”
She crouched, grabbed my upper arms, and pulled me upright. “Where the hell did you go? I thought you were right behind me. What’s wrong with you? Why are you all sweaty and shaky?” She pivoted, wav
ing the gun she carried. “Did someone attack you? What happened?”
I closed my eyes for a moment to calm myself. Either I’d been fondled by an invisible something or I was going mad. Neither option was acceptable. I preferred “none of the above.” But what other explanation could there be?
My fingers still had a death grip on the gun in my pocket, and I forced myself to let go. My palm was so slick with sweat, the gun slid out of my hand easily once I relaxed my muscles.
She half-turned her body so she was still able to catch anyone approaching, while making furtive eye contact with me. “Kismet? What the hell’s wrong with you? Tell me what happened.”
I opened my eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. My hand rose to the spot on my face where the invisible touch occurred. “I don’t know what happened. Somebody touched me.”
She spun around, pointing the gun one direction and then another. “Who? Who touched you? What did he look like?”
I licked my dry lips. “He didn’t look like anything.”
“What do you mean? Did he have a bag over his head or something? A pointed, white hood?”
“No. I mean, nobody was there at all. But I swear I felt a definite hand on my face. And there was a groan. A male-sounding groan.”
She lowered her gun and raised her eyebrows. “Lay that on me again. An invisible hand and a manly groan? Do you realize how insane that sounds? Doc, help me out here. Get a grip. Don’t go looney-tunes on me now. Maybe you’ve been listening to too many schizo stories from your clients.” She retrieved a small flask from one of her oversize pockets, flicked off the attached lid, and offered it to me. “Here. A little brandy to calm the nerves.”
I shook my head. “No. I don’t want any alcohol. I feel strange enough as it is.”
Dark Harvest Page 8
