by Sarah Blair
It was increasingly difficult to maintain a professional façade. She rubbed her palms on her jeans and took in a few slow breaths, same as she’d done upstairs. It made things worse.
She laughed a little and shook her head.
“No way. It doesn’t work like that.” The small room was too crowded all of a sudden, with Banks and Williams standing over her. The smells smothered her, made it hard to concentrate. “That only happens in the movies. This is real life.”
She looked to Banks for help, but he seemed as stunned and confused as she felt.
“I’m not one of the monsters,” Sidney said.
“But you may not be you anymore,” Williams said.
She wanted to hit him.
He was right.
It wasn’t a habit of hers to go around hitting people for making a valid point, no matter how much it felt like a slap across her own face to hear it. Still, Williams was the last person she expected to turn on her like this. He was the eternal optimist, always looking for the upside of things, finding the silver lining in the bleakest of situations.
The chief came back in. “What’s wrong?”
They all stood there, unmoving.
“What happened?” he insisted.
“Lake was bitten. What if she gets all furry and grows sharp pointy teeth like that dude?” Williams pointed to the John Doe at the end.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mitch said. “This isn’t The Wolf Man.”
“How do we know Hollywood didn’t accidentally get it right?” Williams asked.
Mitch’s hand came to rest on her back, the same place those claws had dug in. His touch was gentle, warm and solid, the very opposite of how Sidney felt at the moment.
“It’s a little early to be jumping to conclusions,” he said. “Lake and I are going to see Dimitrius. He has experience with this sort of thing. Go home, Williams. Banks, we appreciate your help, let us know if you find out anything else.”
They left Williams with his head hung like a lost puppy and Sidney wasn’t sorry.
They were partners. He should have her back now more than ever. Instead, he kept watching her like she might go all Bela Lugosi any second.
Hell, maybe she would, but usually Williams was a Glass Half Full kind of guy. Right now she needed his goofy platitudes of optimism, not his fear. Because, God knew, she was already frightened enough as it was.
Ten
Neither of them spoke as Mitch sped down the FDR. A party boat cruised along the East River, flashing multicolored lights in rhythm across the black water. Sidney envied the people on it. They got to party and live their lives without knowing what really crept around in the darkness, beyond the reach of those pretty lights. Mitch had given her the chance to protect them from those living nightmares. Yet, here she was, on the verge of becoming one of those very monsters she worked so hard to keep at bay.
“Don’t let him get to you,” Mitch said, his voice low. He was angry. But, at her, or Williams, or the Universe, she couldn’t tell.
“How can I not? He’s right.”
“You could never be a monster, Sid.”
“You don’t know that. You weren’t there.” Sidney turned in her seat to face him. “I stabbed that thing in the neck with a pair of scissors. I smashed their heads in with a fire extinguisher. Those brains were in that bowl because of what I did.”
“You do what you have to do in this job. You know that,” he said.
“It felt . . . satisfying.” Sidney’s voice wavered. “Like instinct took over.”
“Right. Survival instinct.”
She wove her fingers together, making a ball in her lap. It had all happened so fast, it was difficult to remember, but bits and pieces of the fight came back to her. Simply thinking about the crunching sound of the skull caused her hands to shake. The flesh and bone had collapsed so easily.
Easier than crushing a paper cup.
That’s what scared her most.
It shouldn’t be that simple to dash someone’s brains across the floor.
She hadn’t even hesitated.
“I’d be more worried if you weren’t upset,” he told her. “Taking another life makes a person question everything.”
“I shouldn’t be mad at Williams. He has every right to be scared. He has a family to look out for. What if I turn into one of those things for real and tear him up?”
“We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it.”
“You and your bridges.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to spend my life locked up in a cage, constantly wondering when I might hurt someone. I don’t want to end up as some kind of science experiment. I can’t live like that. Promise you won’t let me live like that.”
He was quiet while he drove.
“Promise me,” she begged.
He took their exit and pulled over first chance he got. As soon as the car was in park, he leaned over and covered her lips with his own.
It startled her at first, but his tongue parted her lips and soon enough she melted under his touch. He kissed her until her eyelids were too heavy to open. He kissed her long enough for her to forget they’d ever taken a break. He kissed her until she was ready to climb across the console into his lap, professionalism be damned.
Then, he pulled back, but only enough to breathe.
“We don’t know what’s going to happen.”
His lips tickled when he spoke against her cheek.
“When I saw you laying there on the floor… I thought that was it.”
He kissed her forehead.
“I thought you were really gone.”
He kissed the soft spot behind her ear.
“Thought it was all my fault for bringing you into this in the first place.”
His lips lingered on the teeth marks at her collarbone.
“I will not promise to destroy you.”
He rested his forehead on her shoulder. She curled her fingertips around the back of his neck, and lay her cheek against his head.
Her words wavered as she fought back tears. “I don’t want to be a monster.”
Mitch lifted his head and swiped her cheeks with his thumb as he stared into her eyes.
“It takes a lot more than claws and fur to make someone a monster.”
Eleven
After taking a moment to recover, Mitch drove them down to Centre Street and pulled up in front of a building that took up the entire block. High columns and a filigreed iron gate for a door made it seem more like the police headquarters it had once been, rather than any kind of living space. Sidney studied the stone carved lions guarding the entrance stretched out on their bellies like lazy dogs, more bored and sleepy than intimidating.
“Need a minute?” He kept the car running as a valet approached.
She stared up at the building. “How about a century?”
She didn’t have the luxury of either one. The valet opened her door and she stepped out. Mitch joined her a second later. He adjusted his jacket, all business again.
A petite blonde greeted them with a smile too big to be real. Dressed in a little black blazer with matching pencil skirt and crisp white blouse, she reminded Sidney of a flight attendant.
“Mr. Harris, pleased to see you again.” The woman spoke with a British accent and shook the chief’s hand. Sidney smelled soap and a hint of the starch that made the woman’s collar stand as straight as she did.
“And you must be Ms. Lake.” Her grasp was firm, as if she was used to shaking hands with extraordinarily strong people. Sidney resisted the urge to squeeze back as tight as she could.
“We apologize for the short notice,” the chief said as they followed the woman inside.
“It’s quite all right. Mr. Dimitrius is eager to speak with you.” The assistant walked with quick, tiny steps. Even in her shiny black pumps she was shorter than Sidney who was five-foot-six in her bare feet. “May I get you anything to drink? Wine, soda, water perhaps?”
Sidney followed the chief’
s lead and asked for water as they made their way up the steps into the building.
The lobby was nothing but pure decadence. Freshly polished crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead and made the space feel like a luxury hotel with plush furniture arranged in a comfortable waiting area.
The elevators were kept in the antique style to match the rest of the building. Their hostess pressed her thumb to a scanner next to the letters PH to take them up to the Penthouse. A green light blinked and the elevator lifted. Sidney expected the sound of chains and the feeling of being jerked upward that came with most elevators in buildings like this. There was nothing but a quiet hum and a smooth, fast ride to the top.
She noticed that same earthy scent from the hospital when they stepped off the elevator. It reminded her of the smell in the park from the fresh flower beds. Her skin tingled and the hair on the back of her neck stood up. She’d felt magic before. Whatever this was hit her senses in an entirely different way.
They entered a low-lit room with a ceiling so high it almost disappeared into darkness. Directly underneath the huge dome was an enormous circular table made from rough-hewn wood. Maybe it had been polished and gleaming at one time, but it was worn down in certain places. It didn’t seem to fit in with the rest of the luxurious décor.
A real wood fire in an enormous fireplace made the room slightly over-warm and hard to breathe in; or perhaps that was Sidney’s own uneasiness.
The sword on the wall over the mantel could just as easily come out of the weapons wing of the MET. Stained and tattered leather wrapped the hilt, but the blade was polished so that it almost glowed with the light from the fire.
Old and new. Filthy and polished. Worn and sharp. The weapon was a veritable contradiction of itself. Sidney could hardly take her eyes off of it.
“Is there anything else I can do to make you comfortable?” The assistant smiled.
“No, thank you,” the chief said.
“Mr. Dimitrius will be with you in a moment.” The door closed behind her without a sound.
Sidney felt exposed here, in the middle of all this space. Then again, that’s probably what this room was meant to do, make a person feel small. Intimidated.
The smell she’d noticed when they stepped off the elevator grew stronger. That same mossy sweetness was there, along with the bitter metallic smell of sharpened steel, and musk of polished leather.
It was awful, and yet, strangely intoxicating.
“Do you smell that?” Sidney whispered.
A door at the back of the room next to the fireplace opened before Mitch could answer. The man who emerged wasn’t quite as tall as Mitch, but as soon as he stepped through the door, his presence seemed to expand to fill the enormous space.
Sidney didn’t need to be introduced. It was very clear who this man was.
At first glance, his shoulder length hair was jet black, but when he stepped into the light it picked up gold and orange tones from the fire and she saw that it was actually a very dark brown. It reminded her of pure chocolate falling in loose waves around his square face, ending in stark contrast with the edge of his pristine, white collar.
His eyes were the same dark liquid brown as his hair. She could tell the second she met his gaze that this man didn’t feel the need to impress anyone. His deep set eyes were soft, holding a hint of amusement, as if he didn’t have to think about what she might do or say because he already knew.
“I apologize for the wait. Mitchell, it’s good to see you again.” The voice that came out of his mouth was unexpected and familiar at the same time. It sounded British, but it was more rugged than the Queen’s English.
In all her years at boarding school in the UK, she hadn’t heard anything like it. It held lilting notes of Welsh, but there were gruff hints of a Highland brogue in there as well. She recalled hearing it at one point in the hospital, but she didn’t remember actually meeting him.
The men shook hands as if they’d been pals in grade school.
Sidney stayed behind Mitch, not wanting to draw attention to herself. She could see Dimitrius better up close and noticed that his nose had the smallest rise along the middle of the bridge; it hadn’t healed properly after a break. A slight cleft cut through his chin. He had a ragged scar at the edge of his hairline, and another one on the left side of his neck below his ear that disappeared under the back of his collar.
The top two buttons of his shirt had been left undone, as if he intended to draw her gaze downward. He wasn’t wearing an undershirt, so it was easy to see the outline of his well-toned chest and the tarnished silver pendant rested right below the dip of his collarbone, tied to his neck with a narrow leather strap. It was some kind of old coin or a stamped crest.
Now that he was even closer, the scent evolved into something more distinct; Sidney picked out the smell of horses, sweat, blood, even the smoky flavor of fire and pitch.
Battle.
He smelled like a warrior.
“Ms. Lake, at last we meet.” That voice again, softer and gentler than what a battle-hardened warrior should sound like. She wanted to curl up and listen to him read page after page of Internet search results. “I’ve heard wonderful things about you.”
“I’m sure the chief was exaggerating.” It was like being sucked into a whirlpool and Mitch had suddenly become her safety net. Knowing he was right there with the line of his body pressed against hers made her feel more grounded.
“On the contrary . . . “Dimitrius gave her an unabashed head-to-toe assessment. He offered his hand. She didn’t want to take it, but she couldn’t be rude.
She returned the handshake much more firmly than she’d done with his assistant. It was the same grip she used to make Williams go weak in the knees and beg for mercy when she was mad at him.
It had no effect whatsoever on Dimitrius. Instead, she felt what could only be described as electricity, an actual current running between them where their skin touched. His eyes narrowed, and she wondered if he felt it too.
“He hasn’t done you justice at all,” he said. “Dimitrius Arturus Roman, at your service.”
He leaned forward at the waist and raised her hand toward his mouth, keeping his eyes locked on hers. A whisper of something brushed across her fingers, like an invisible string wrapping around her hand, curling its way up her wrist. She felt his pulse in her palm, saw it throbbing at his neck millimeters from the edge of the scar. She wanted to lick her tongue over it to find out if he tasted as good as he smelled.
That last thought brought her back to herself. She jerked her hand away before he could touch his lips to her skin. It all happened in an instant. Dimitrius stood there, tilted forward holding nothing but air.
Her breath came so fast it sounded like she’d been running. She tucked her hand behind her back and rubbed it on her jeans.
Dimitrius gave a short nod and stood up straight. “Perhaps we would all be a bit more comfortable in my office. This way.”
As soon as Dimitrius had his back turned, Sidney grabbed Mitch’s hand. He leaned over to speak directly into her ear, while they followed the mysterious man.
“Ow.”
He shook his hand out of her vice grip. Four red crescent marks appeared on his skin where her short fingernails had dug into him.
He spoke through his teeth. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Sorry,” she mouthed the word back at him. There was nothing more she could say, as they’d caught up to Dimitrius in his office.
“Ms. Lake, I understand you had quite a harrowing experience. I am grateful you have come to speak with me about it, despite this being a fresh trauma.” Dimitrius gestured to the couch. “Please, do sit down.”
Sidney took a seat on the leather couch next to Mitch as close as she could get without climbing into his lap. He must have sensed her uneasiness because he tucked his arm around her and pulled her in even closer, something he never did in public.
The line between their personal and work relationship had alw
ays been very distinct, something they were both careful never to cross. The fact that he was doing it now made her wonder exactly how well he knew this man.
“May I offer you something a bit stronger than water?” Dimitrius stood next to a wet bar behind his desk. He removed the stopper from a small crystal decanter etched with an elaborate flourish and poured a few ounces of something dark and red into a fluted wine glass. For a second, she wondered if it really was liquor.
“No,” Sidney said a little louder than she meant to.
“Not tonight, thank you,” Mitch said, giving her a look.
“You do not care for Port?” Dimitrius held up the decanter. “This comes from my private collection.”
It had been a rough few days. All she wanted was a hot bath and to go finish what Mitch had started in the car. Instead, she was here in some stranger’s office being offered a nightcap. She trusted Mitch without question, but this was just flat out weird, even for him.
“Sorry, I’m confused.” Sidney glanced back and forth between the two men. “Why exactly are we here?”
Mitch looked to the other man for words.
Dimitrius made himself comfortable in a club chair on the other side of the coffee table. The worn spots on the chair matched up with the way he sat —leaning slightly to the left with his elbow on the arm of the chair— it was obvious he sat there often, and the chair was very, very old.
He fixed his dark eyes on her and took a sip of his wine. “Ms. Lake, when you are ready, I would like very much to hear about these creatures you encountered.”
Sidney’s patience was running out, and she also didn’t like the way she kept losing her train of thought when she looked into his eyes. She focused on the stitching of the chair instead. “I’m not clear on what you have to do with all this.”
Mitch shifted beside her. “I didn’t get the chance to explain things.”
“Explain what?” Sidney’s eyebrows rose as her patience waned.
“I have something I’d like you to see,” Dimitrius said. Placing his glass on the table, he went to the bookcase which filled the back wall of the office and scanned the shelves.
