Night Call (Book 2): Demon Dei
Page 21
Open mouth. Remove foot. Proceed with caution.
“Sorry, Chris. I didn’t mean it like that. Of course you’ve tried to talk to him.” I snorted. “I can certainly sympathise with the effort it takes.”
“No, you’re right. I should have tried harder.” He polished off the last of his dosed coffee. No grimace this time, just grim determination. “Do you think I should go to the hotel anyway?”
I sucked in a long breath. “Probably not. It was a bit of a knee jerk reaction I had to what we found at the lab last night. I’m sure you’re safe enough here.”
“What did you find last night? Ivan wasn’t too forthcoming.”
“Probably because I wasn’t too forthcoming with him, to be honest. I don’t have a very solid lead on it yet, but I do know the person at the lab wasn’t the only one involved, and most likely not the instigator.”
“A hit?”
“In a sense, yes. But I still don’t know why. You’ve not had any more thoughts about her research?”
“None, but you might want to talk to her old thesis advisor.”
“Dr Jones at UQ? Seen him already. He’s got the feelers out for me.”
Chris stared at me, then nodded. “Of course. I never did have the mind to be a detective. My head’s too logical, I think. I can’t make those intuitive leaps. I work in the admin at the station.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. It’s all problem solving.” I stood. “Let me know if Rufus doesn’t…” I’d been about to say ‘return’, but changed my mind in mid blunder. “Cooperate. And don’t hesitate to call for any reason. Even the smallest idea or memory could help.”
He assured me he would and walked me out. I got into the car and drove away. At the corner I saw Rufus. At least he hadn’t gone too far. He sat in the gutter, a smouldering cigarette held awkwardly in one hand. He scowled at me as I slowed to take the corner. I waved jauntily. He returned it with the finger.
Teenagers.
Chapter 23
The day was heading toward night at a rapid pace as I decided my next move. I was in a calmer state and perhaps a little mellowed by the talk with Chris—perfect apologising mood but I figured visiting hours would be over and perhaps Courey was right. Erin could probably use some rest time before seeing me again. So I found a supermarket, got some supplies and waited until dusk. I made a phone call and three quarters of an hour later, the black Moto Guzzi roared up beside the Monaro and Mercy brought it to a rumbling stop.
“I’m hungry,” she announced the moment she pulled her hot pink helmet off.
While I was more than willing to trust Mercy with an unlocked cage, I wasn’t yet ready to hand over the keys to the blood fridge. During this time of sparse work and thus sparse exercise for the vampire, her biological need for blood had reduced. Didn’t mean her psychological need had lessened.
“Did you do a haemoglobin level?” I asked.
She grumbled and eventually admitted it was fine. “What are we doing out here anyway?”
“We’re going on a stakeout.”
Half an hour later, we were parked in the driveway of one of the finished homes in the new estate. While I unpacked my picnic of bad food and guarana rich drinks Mercy flitted off over rooftops to scout out the Davis residence. She found a perch in a tree across the road and sent back regular updates on the private line. From what she could see and hear, Rufus had returned home and he and Chris were suffering through an awkward dinner and evening TV.
I grabbed my book from the car and settled down in the house to read. Barely through the first action packed chapter, the phone rang. I considered not answering for all of two or three seconds.
“Night Call,” I finally mumbled into the phone, still reading.
“Mr Hawkins, it’s Long Jones.”
“Dr Jones. I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”
“I didn’t expect to be calling so soon. But I do have some news for you.”
“That’s great, doc.”
“Maybe, or maybe not.”
My stomach plummeted. “Give it to me easy.”
“I’m afraid it’s not solid information about Gerry’s research,” Jones said. “But as I was calling around today, several separate people told me the same thing, so I’m certain it’s true. It seems Gerry did have a research partner, at least for a time.”
And this might not be good news?
“His name is Karl Roeben and he was a research fellow come from the UK. Apparently he and Gerry ran into each other several times in the last year and the word was that they’d started working on something together.”
“You said ‘was’ a research fellow,” I pointed out, understanding now why Jones hadn’t proclaimed it as good news. “Please don’t tell me he’s dead as well.”
“He’s not dead,” Jones said so fast I wondered if he was pulling my leg. “But I don’t think he’s going to be contributing much to the scientific community in the near future, if at all.”
“What happened to him?” Did I really want to know?
“No one’s sure. At the moment, they’re calling it a psychological episode. Apparently he tried to kill his wife.”
“My God. He didn’t hurt her too bad?”
“Slashed at her with a kitchen knife but collapsed before he could do any major damage. She’s not laying any charges against him and he’s currently in the Mentis Institute for observation and diagnosis.”
“When did this happen?”
“A day or two before Gerry died.”
“He’s been in Mentis for over a week and they haven’t managed to diagnosis him yet?” That I found hard to believe. The brain doctors at Mentis were amongst the best in the country. About the only case that had baffled them in the past three decades had been a newly turned vampire, but I’d rescued them from Mercy’s strangeness before they could officially admit defeat.
“I’m not sure. I only know what campus rumour knows.”
He didn’t have much more to add so we said goodbye. I spent a while trying to fit Karl Roeben into the facts I already had. It was either a very easy fit, or a very hard one. Right at the moment, my facts were pretty few and far between. I rang the Mentis Institute, made sure of their visiting hours and gained the knowledge that Roeben was in the secure ward. It was the same ward Mercy had been in and only family members would be able to get in to see patients.
Mercy checked in with no interesting information about the Davises so I told her about Karl Roeben. She had no insights, not even a flicker of recognition about Mentis. She had little memory about her first several months as a vampire, which in a sense was good, for her, but sometimes I wondered what I could learn if she had been capable of comparing the various stages of her transformation. I’d come to the conclusion the successive memory loss was a matter of survival. Moving from being a rational human to a creature with such alien needs and wants would be tough going on anyone’s sanity. Young vampires aren’t the most level headed things in the world to start with. Add on a good dose of honest to generic deity insanity and whacko, instant chaos.
I’d grabbed a notebook and pen along with the nutritional supplies and wrote down all the various bits of information I had. Barely took up half a page. I was new to this super sleuth biz but for two solid days’ work, I felt I should have had more.
Considering my lack of facts got me to thinking about Erin. In five days flat, she’d not only exposed the nastiest bits of my recent history, but she’d also managed to show up at a werewolf wrangling before me and get in the first shots. Now that was sleuthing on the super scale.
Perhaps Ivan should have gone with Erin as the principle investigator. But if he’d done that, it was more than likely the demon side of the deal would have gone undetected. Erin was good, but she wasn’t yet ready to play in the night pen on her own—and if she’d suspected something ‘off’ about this case, she probably wouldn’t have called me.
As if summoned by my thoughts, Erin walked in.
; She stood in the doorway to the living room, looking tired and sore and more than a little lost.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, scrambling to my feet. She looked like she was about to fall over. “Or better yet, why are you out of hospital?”
She looked at the bandage on her right arm and then felt the closed cut on her forehead. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.” I put a hand on her back and steered her toward the blankets I’d piled up against one wall. “You look like you’re going to fall over any second now.”
“You’re such a gentleman,” she said, but let me help her down. “So I’m a little weary. Otherwise, I’m okay.” She looked around, found my hasty notes and read them in the blink of an eye. “And I thought you could use some help.”
I sat down beside her. “I won’t knock it, that’s for sure. The docs gave you the all clear of any head trauma?”
Erin looked at me sidelong. “Why do you ask?”
“Um, you’re here. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I was a complete arsehole to you this morning. In my estimation I should have spent a good two weeks on my knees before you’d even talk to me without hurling heavy, blunt objects.”
She just kept looking at me steadily.
“I’m sorry, by the way,” I said when she didn’t fill the silence. “I was completely out of line.”
“You were,” Erin said, finally turning her attention to my stock pile of chocolate and chips. “But I do understand you were coming from a place of concern.”
“I was. I do. I am.” Okay, I was a little thrown. The last thing I’d expected tonight was happening.
“But perhaps I should apologise as well.”
“What for?”
A small smile quirked her pale lips. “For being so obstinate. You’ve only tried to help me and I keep pushing you away.”
If Erin showing up was the last thing I expected, this turn in conversation was completely off the planet. I didn’t know how to take it. So I popped the top of a can of energy drink and took a long pull.
Silence, marred only by the nervous gulping of a man trapped in a situation he wasn’t prepared for, descended.
“So,” Erin finally said when my drink was finished and I felt it would be ridiculous to reach for another one, leaving me open to discussion. “Am I too late?”
“For?” I asked, acting intentionally dumb. Heck, the longer I could stall the better. I was still trying to wrap my head around the fact she was here.
Her composure cracked. Her bottom lip trembled and her hands fluttered a bit in her lap.
I was an idiot.
How hard had it been for her to come here? Not so easy, I bet. Pride had been big part of what kept her from talking this far. Overcoming that was a major hurdle and when she finally came to the conclusion she needed to get some help, here I was, playing stupid all because it wasn’t a good time for me.
I put aside the empty can and scooted closer to Erin. Slipping an arm around her shoulders, I said, “I’m sorry, again. Of course you’re not too late. Never too late.”
She shifted slightly, the first moves to shake me off. I debated between tightening my hold or giving her space. Before I could decide, Erin settled down and leaned back against my arm.
“Thank you.”
“No problem.”
And so here we were. I’d been at her the past three days to start talking. So why did I suddenly feel scared?
“How’s your husband?” I asked.
A brave smile struggled on to her face. “He’s doing better. Much better. He should make a full recovery. Well, at least as full a recovery as he can make.”
“That’s great.”
“Yeah, he’ll be home soon and things will get back to normal.” Her breath hitched on the last word.
I’d seen it so many times in my first years with the ambulance service. Transporting patients from home care to hospital when matters got to a point where the family carer couldn’t handle it any more. The guilt ridden faces of the patient’s family as we wheeled their ill husband, mother, child away. It was hard for people to accept they couldn’t do it all, that they couldn’t always be there. It was harder even for people to accept they had every right to feel relieved when we arrived.
Without realising it, I was talking to her. Telling her about the families I’d met during that time, the heartache they’d gone through, the guilt they’d felt. I told her it was okay to get frustrated, to get angry, to resent her husband for making her go through this, to forgive him for being human and that it was more than okay to get lonely.
Somewhere along the way, Erin cried and I hugged her. She didn’t interrupt, didn’t ask questions or try to justify herself. She just listened and shook and eventually fell asleep.
I sat there for a long time, listening to her even, soft breathing. She was a warm weight against my side, her auburn hair tickling my chin when I looked down at the top of her head. It felt good. I mean, it was sad Erin was going through this, that she needed this sort of support and reassurance. Yet it was right we were here, talking about this and finally, at long last, getting it started.
I smoothed stray strands of hair off her face and, like I had done back in May, when I’d knocked her senseless so Mercy could feed off her blood, I kissed her forehead.
This time, Erin stirred. She woke and tilted her head back to look up at me. Those stormy grey eyes caught me as they had the first time we’d met. Then I’d held the gaze, determined to find out about this woman who was so close to tracking me down. I’d expected her to look away, but she hadn’t and something had passed between us. We’d never spoken about the moment, so I don’t know how it had affected her, but for my part, I’d touched her aura.
As I stared into her eyes this time, I expected the same thing to happen. It didn’t. Erin broke the gaze before it could escalate, but she didn’t look away.
She closed her eyes and kissed me.
Chapter 24
It was a soft, non-demanding kiss. Her lips moved minutely, enough to let the tip of her tongue touch my mouth for fleeting moments. One of her hands rested on my stomach, her fingers flexing in the material of my shirt. All in all, it was very enticing, very seductive. The only thing that kept me from responding in kind was surprise.
Still, Erin ended the kiss naturally, as if my lack of reaction was expected.
She pulled back enough so she could look at me again, but this time she avoided my eyes. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips slightly parted.
I don’t know how many times I’d thought about kissing her, dreamed about it, in the past. At the time, I’d hadn’t known she was married—she didn’t wear a ring and the one time I’d asked, she’d sidestepped the question. Even after she’d let me know—after I’d discovered the fragile foundation within her psyche—I couldn’t help the subconscious yearning to know if she really tasted like honeydew and Moscato and dark chocolate. Yet she’d kept me at arm’s length, at more than arm’s length. She’d sent me away and in truth, it had been for the best.
And I knew it would be best to stop this right here. She was married. I was the completely wrong type of guy for her… for anyone. Best thing to do would be to remove my arm from around her, offer her a Redbull and make two separate piles of blankets.
Best thing for all.
I removed my arm from her shoulders. Good, right? Maybe not. I moved it to her waist, pulled her against me and kissed her.
I had to know. I wanted to drown in her sweet and bitter flavour once more.
Unlike me, she didn’t hesitate. The hand on my stomach clenched up a bunch of my shirt while the fingers of the other wound through my hair. She was warm and soft and she pressed her body against mine without restraint.
Was it better than I’d dreamed all those months ago? Well, yes and no. Yes because she was real and dynamic and my heart was rollicking around in my chest, alternatively shaking in fear and jumping for sheer joy. And no because I couldn’t taste her.
I sent one hand under her shirt. She was hot to the touch, her ribs heaving with what could easily be mistaken for passion. She murmured an appreciative something and pushed into my hand. I traced the base of her breasts, fingers exploring. They found only smooth skin that prickled under my fingertips.
Breaking the kiss, I grabbed her shoulders and, before she could utter a word, shoved her backwards. Following her down I pinned her under my body, her hands held to the floor by mine. She smiled and did this thing with her hips that could have wiped every conscious thought from my head if I hadn’t already fallen hard from the fever high she’d induced.
“Enough,” I said.
She went still, eyes wide and injured. “What’s the matter? I thought you wanted this.”
“The only thing I want right now is to know why you’re doing this.”
She stared at me for a moment, then closed her eyes. When they opened again, they were their true colour—burning crystal blue.
“What gave me away?” the demon asked in Erin’s voice from Erin’s body.
“Same thing that let Geraldine Davis know you weren’t her husband. You’re a good copy, but not a perfect one.”
The demon sighed irritably. “What did I forget?”
“Two things. I don’t know about demons, but humans have an aura that’s unique to each of us. It might not mean much with your other disguises, but when you’re trying to fool a psychic, it’s kind of important.”
Those alien eyes rolled. “And?”
“The first I can forgive you for. This one, not so much. You threw Erin’s car off an overpass. That sort of event is going to cause more damage to a human body than a broken arm and a cut or two. Erin has broken ribs.”