by Sarah Blair
“It didn’t get through.” She shut her eyes and leaned her forehead against his shoulder. “It’s okay.”
He crushed her body against his. It felt like he might break one of her ribs, but she didn’t care. She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed back just as hard, so relieved he wasn’t repulsed by her, that what he’d seen her do hadn’t transformed her into a monster in his eyes. He groaned, then pulled back and put his hands on her shoulders.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’m okay.” She nodded and put her hand on his cheek, smearing a red handprint across his face.
“What the hell happened?”
They got to their feet and looked around.
“It’s like a Tarantino set in here.” Sidney couldn’t look anymore. She made her way through the kitchen into her bedroom, and he followed. “I think they wanted to kidnap me or something. He said I was the key. What does that even mean?”
The gauzy white curtains in the bathroom caught the breeze from the broken window and billowed out softly. The afternoon sun brightened and warmed the narrow space, almost making it possible to forget the carnage out in her living room.
“If I show up someplace and find you covered in blood one more time, I think I might actually lose my mind.”
Sidney turned on the shower to let it heat up. “You and me both.”
“You scared the shit out of me.” He wrapped his arms around her from behind and she let her head fall back against his chest.
“I didn’t know what else to do. He followed me from the subway.” She raised her arms up and he pulled her shirt over her head. “Come to think of it, I think he’s been following me since yesterday.”
“What do you mean?” He pulled off her bra.
“At the crime scene, down by the waterfront, I ran into a guy with a red hoodie, but I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t see his face.”
“Did you see him anywhere else?”
Sidney kicked off her pants and turned to face him. She thought back, and remembered a flash of red at the club, but she couldn’t be sure since she hadn’t seen under the hood. It could have been any guy in a red hoodie, or maybe it wasn’t even a hoodie.
“I don’t remember.”
Mitch crossed his arms at his waist and pulled off his shirt. His face crumpled into a cringe when his head emerged.
“Damn, even if it didn’t break the skin, it still hurts.” He leaned over to push the waistband of his jeans to the floor and Sidney’s heart stopped.
Blood smeared his back. A matching crescent marred his skin, and two puncture wounds welled up and over with fresh blood where the animal’s canines had sunk into him.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“It’s fine. It’ll be fine.” She ran into the kitchen, opened the freezer and yanked out the bottle of vodka she kept for the really bad days.
“What the hell?” Mitch stood in the doorway of the bathroom, steam billowing out around him from the forgotten shower.
“Turn around.” She shoved him around so fast he had to catch himself on the wall. He stood there like he was ready for a strip search.
“What are you doing? Agh!”
There was at least half a bottle left. She turned the whole thing upside down and let it gush over the wound the same way Peters had dumped the holy water on her arm.
“That’s cold! What the hell’s the matter with you?”
“We have to disinfect it.” Her voice didn’t even sound like her own. It was shrill and trembling.
“Disinfect what?” He turned around in a circle, trying to see his back.
“Hold still.” She grabbed his arm and shook out the last few ounces. The bottle clattered to the floor. She turned and opened the medicine cabinet behind the mirror. “I swear I had some peroxide or something in here. Where the fuck is it?”
“Stop.” He put his hand on hers, but she swatted it away and kept digging through the contents of the cabinet. A rolled up tube of toothpaste fell into the sink. A box of Q-tips scattered everywhere. She found a single alcohol swab in a foil package.
“Come here.” It took her a few tries to make her fingers work, but she ripped it open and went for the wounds.
Mitch grabbed both of her wrists. “Stop.”
They both stood there for a moment, frozen.
Sidney’s face dissolved into a sob. “Why did you do that? Why did you—”
“What the hell was I supposed to do?” He let go of her and she had to take a step back to gain her balance. “I saw that thing come at you, Sidney. What was I supposed to do?”
“Not that!” she choked out. “Don’t you get it? It didn’t even matter if I—”
She couldn’t manage to get the rest of the sentence out.
Mitch yelled and smacked the wall. Sidney jumped.
“I’m sorry.” He came back to her, gathered her up in his arms. She clung to him, pressed her wet cheek against his chest, and squeezed her eyes shut.
“It’s going to be fine. I promise.” He spoke against her hair, as he ran his hand up and down her back. “It barely broke the skin. There’s nothing to worry about. I’ll be fine.”
Twenty-Eight
“Look at me. Look at my face.” Mitch held her head steady in his hands, but she couldn’t meet his eyes. “Whoever did this is going to wonder what went wrong. We need to get out of here. Give me a sign you understand.”
Sidney tilted her head up and down the best she could with him holding it.
“Good. Okay, I’m going to call Banks. You need to clean up and get dressed. Fast, Lake, I mean it.”
“Yes, sir.”
The door closed. Sidney dove for the toilet. Shards of glass and bits of plaster from the broken window dug into her knees as the dregs of donut and coffee she’d had at Williams’ that morning came back up. Sitting at his kitchen table felt like a lifetime ago.
The shower scalded her but she didn’t care. She scrubbed hard, even after the wound on her arm had disappeared and the water circling the drain was no longer pink with strangers’ blood. The curtain slid open and Mitch turned the water off. He rubbed the towel over her, held her hand as she stepped out. She wanted to see the bite again, to make sure it wasn’t her imagination, but he swiped her hand away when she reached for his shirt.
“We’ll worry about that later,” he said. “Your clothes are on the bed. Dimitrius and his men will be here any minute.”
The fog of fear cleared from her brain a little.
“Dimitrius is coming here?” She hugged the towel tighter around her body.
“Something about a blood oath.” He went to the window and scanned the patio.
“I don’t need bodyguards. I can take care of myself.”
“Get dressed, Sidney.”
She slid on her underwear, then her jeans. “Did you tell him about, you know?”
“It doesn’t even hurt anymore.”
“Maybe he knows what to do. Maybe he can help.” Bra, camisole, black sweater over her head. The cashmere warmed her quickly. It was the least practical fabric in her closet, but there was no time to question his choice. Socks and boots on and zipped.
A familiar smell tickled her nose.
“Mitchell? Ms. Lake?”
“Back here,” Mitch called out.
Dimitrius was probably the last person she ever expected to see framed in the doorway to her bedroom. His figure looked out of place there, or maybe it was the expression on his face, like a panicked horse that just caught wind of smoke.
He took two quick steps into the room and stopped. Her first instinct was to close the distance, to let him wrap his arms around her, envelop her in that earthy scent and chase away the shadow of fear. But she stiffened, darted a glance toward Mitch, and they both stayed put where they were.
Dimitrius took a moment to study her. His shoulders eased down once he had a chance to see she was still in possession of all her limbs.
“Are you all right?”
>
Sidney turned her attention to Mitch.
“What happened?” Dimitrius asked.
“She’s fine.” Mitch gritted his teeth.
“You have to show him.” Her voice was barely audible above the deep highland brogues drifting in from the front room.
Dimitrius raised an eyebrow and a bit of that panic came back to his features.
“It’s nothing. It barely even broke the skin.”
“Show him!”
Mitch squeezed his fists at his side, then turned and lifted his shirt. Even though Sidney was a few feet away, she could see the fine lines of deep purple already creeping away from the tiny puncture wounds. She sank down to the bed and focused on a knot in the hardwood floor.
“We’ll discuss this once we get Ms. Lake to safety,” Dimitrius said. “Dr. Banks needs assistance with the bodies.”
Mitch’s heavy footsteps disappeared into the kitchen, but he left the door open.
Dimitrius kneeled at her feet. He didn’t touch her, but the bond between them caressed her skin as if he had. She dug her fingers into the quilt and bit down so hard on her lip she tasted blood.
The weight of the silence pressed in and a tear crept onto her cheek.
“I can’t lose him. I can’t.”
“But you will. One day, eventually, he will die and you will go on.”
“Not yet. Not like this.” Her mind went back to the determination on Mitch’s face the moment he burst through the door. “He tried to save me. This is my fault.”
Dimitrius whispered something under his breath that wasn’t English.
“It happened. That is all. No one is to blame.”
He curled his hand around the back of her neck, pressed his forehead to hers. She closed her eyes and shivered under his touch. Reaching down the back of his shirt, she splayed her hand out against his skin, tracing the raised line of a scar across his shoulder blade.
With every inch she drew across his skin, the tension within her eased and she felt a little more like herself.
“Do not allow fear to govern your heart.” His breath was light and sweet on her lips as he spoke. “He needs you now more than ever.”
“Then why am I here with you?” She opened her eyes and tumbled into his dark gaze. For a second she was lost in the depths, but she shook the feeling away. She used her brain to think instead of giving in to that delicious magic swirling around her core. “This really is convenient for you, isn’t it? If Mitch is out of the picture, you can have me all to yourself.”
“Mitchell is my friend. I care about him a great deal.”
“Then why are you here with me?”
He searched the contours of her face and opened his lips to speak, but stopped when a light knock sounded on the door and Mitch stepped in.
“Everything’s loaded up.”
Sidney pulled back and Dimitrius’ hand slipped from her neck as he stood. She couldn’t imagine what they must look like to Mitch, but from the thin line his mouth made, it wasn’t anything that pleased him. Dimitrius offered a hand to help her up, but she ignored him and followed Mitch out through the front room.
The bodies were gone, but the floor, walls, desk, sofa—everything was splattered with blood. If the scene on the subway platform had been bad, this was six times worse. Sidney faltered when the smell hit her, and Dimitrius pressed his hand into the small of her back to steady her. She focused on that tingling sensation as it traveled up her spine. The distraction helped her move forward through the carnage as she picked her way around the puddles and smears on the floor so as not to track blood out into the hall.
“Once it’s safe, the clean-up crew will take care of everything.” Mitch shut the door and locked it after they were all out. “You can stay at my place until they’re finished.”
It was all so natural, Mitch standing there on her doormat, framed by the faded blue entryway as he locked the door. For a split second she forgot about the bite. Then reality crashed in. Staying at his place might not be such a simple solution if he ended up turning furry. She opened her mouth to ask what if, but hesitated.
It was only a few days ago that she’d been in his same situation. Mitch had been confident that everything would be okay then, and he was right. Now, she needed to behave accordingly for him. They didn’t know anything yet. The teeth barely broke the skin. He was probably fine.
She snapped her mouth shut. They’d be snuggled up together under his duvet in a few hours, naked and warm. There was nothing to be afraid of.
He seemed to catch that she was holding back, and his expression darkened. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and swept her toward the staircase.
“Let’s go,” he said, leaving Dimitrius to follow after them.
Twenty-Nine
Mitch stared out the window of Dimitrius’ car. Sidney held his hand, but his fingers didn’t close around hers. Dimitrius sat opposite them in the rear-facing seat. The low afternoon sun lit the golden tones in his dark brown hair. His eyes remained fixed on her.
Sidney lowered her gaze to the back of Mitch’s hand. She ran her thumb over the pronounced veins, examined the fine lines in his skin, and his short well-rounded nails. Even though he was fit, his hands showed his age. It wasn’t as if they could spend their entire lives together. Mitch had already lived half of his, and hers had only just gotten started. No matter what happened, the harsh mistress of time was already against them.
Dimitrius didn’t have an expiration date. He was outside of time altogether. Drifting somehow in a place where age didn’t exist. His body didn’t wear down. It couldn’t.
As far as having someone around forever, he was the safest bet there was. She recalled the look on his face when he mentioned Sulis and how much he’d loved her, how much he missed her. Being with him would mean the constant pain of knowing that he was watching her grow old and die. She wouldn’t do that to someone she loved.
Except that she didn’t love Dimitrius. She loved Mitch. She wanted Mitch. She needed him, and now he needed her too. Even if he was infected, it didn’t mean he would die. She had to remind herself of that. The thought of watching him turn into one of those creatures made her stomach churn. Which would be worse? Watching him turn into the Big Bad Wolf occasionally or never seeing him at all?
She squeezed Mitch’s hand tighter and rested her cheek on his shoulder.
“Ms. Lake,” Dimitrius spoke softly.
She met his gaze.
He tilted his head slightly and his fingers twitched as if he wanted to wrap his hand around hers, but he didn’t. As the first shadows of late afternoon passed over his face, she found herself suddenly unsure of what to hope for.
“You’re an admirer of Waterhouse?” he asked.
The subject matter was so far away from her thought process, that it took her a moment to work out the question.
“Waterhouse?”
“The artist. I noticed you had a few of his prints in your home,” Dimitrius said.
Sidney nodded, understanding now that he was distracting her, offering her an antidote for the worry poisoning her mind. “I like all the pre-Raphaelites, but Waterhouse is my favorite.”
Mitch stirred beside her, as if waking from a trance. He paid attention to the conversation even if he didn’t join in.
“It’s very curious that you should be drawn to the first portrait of Lamia,” Dimitrius said. “The woman who posed as the model was indeed your great-grandmother.”
Sidney frowned and sat up a little. “How did I not know this?”
“She posed for many of his portraits. However, it was not common knowledge. The family had a reputation to uphold.”
She rolled her eyes. “How many times have I heard my grandfather say that?”
Dimitrius shrugged. “The times were different back then. I doubt it would have been the scandal she imagined, but we respected her wishes.”
“We?”
“John and I.”
“You were on a first name
basis with John William Waterhouse.” Sidney scooted forward in her seat a bit. “For real?”
He gave her a nod. Something about the way the light shaded his eyes seemed familiar. “The knight in that painting is you, isn’t it?”
“I allowed him to borrow my likeness, yes.”
So many times she’d spent studying that print, the nuances of his hair, the line of his jaw, the way that woman who looked so much like herself gazed up at him with such devotion and longing in her eyes. Sidney loved the way Waterhouse had been able to capture that moment. She’d put herself in Lamia’s place so many times when she was younger. She’d thought it was Mitch she was meant to slay those metaphorical dragons with. Now that knight from the painting was flesh and blood, sitting right in front of her.
“Wow,” she muttered.
Mitch squeezed her hand. She needed to get out of the car. The smell of them together in such a small space was suffocating.
The dome of Dimitrius’ building come into view as they pulled around the corner, and Sidney was actually grateful to see it. Malcolm pulled around to one of the back doors and Mitch slid out before he could even shift the car into park. Dimitrius slipped out after him, but he paused to offer his hand to Sidney.
It felt natural, and she hated herself for thinking that. She hated herself even more for not wanting to let go.
“Lake.” Williams power-walked up the sidewalk toward them. “What the hell is going on?”
Her partner made a pointed glance downward, then tilted his head a little and she knew he’d seen. She untangled her fingers from Dimitrius and he went inside.
Williams watched Dimitrius as if he’d just seen the spectral apparition of John Lennon walk by. “Why the heck are you guys holding hands?”
“He was helping me out of the car. It’s called manners. You could learn a thing or two.”
He lowered his voice to a whisper, “Did you tell the chief about . . . you know?”
It took her a second to remember what he was talking about, then their conversation from that morning came back to her. King Arthur. The sword. Sulis Minerva.
