by L. K. Below
“We’ll see Garcias about it tonight.” Draining his glass and setting it on the counter, he stepped closer, then reached out to rub her arms. “Are you all right, Lori?”
“Yes.” Morbidly, she stared at his wine glass. It didn’t look like it had contained wine. A drop of the thick liquid pooled in the bottom. “What are you drinking?”
As he shielded the glass with his body, he looked like a guilty schoolboy caught stealing candy. “You aren’t interested, trust me.”
Lori felt her lip curl. “Blood. You’re drinking blood aren’t you?”
“I am a vampire.”
“Faux. Faux-vampire. Drink a drop of blood in wine. Not–a glass.” She felt nauseated and wondered why she felt she had to hide it. “That’s disgusting.”
He shrugged. “What can I say? It’s much better from the tap, but sometimes, I have to make do.”
Was he joking? Difficult to tell. He looked wan.
“You seem tired. I’ll go. I’ll…see you tonight.” Although she would rather not, she had to admit having his bulk nearby had been to her advantage earlier. To keep him from hatching any wrong ideas, she added, “When we meet with Garcias.”
Swiping a hand over his mouth, he shook his head. “It’s almost dawn. I can’t escort you back. You can stay here and sleep.”
In your dreams, buddy. “No coffin, Terrence?” she quipped.
He smiled, but it was terse. Really, he looked as though he would keel over at any moment. “Not enough room,” he mumbled. “I sleep under the bed.”
“I can get back to my room on my own,” she told him. She suspected shoving him too hard might topple him over. “I got here, didn’t I?” Still, she knew something so simple wouldn’t placate him, so she added, “I’ll even call a cab.”
He insisted she do that, at least. She sighed over the wasted money, but kept her word. Although there was no window in Terrence’s apartment, she had no doubt he would find a window overlooking the street just to watch her get in. And follow her if she didn’t.
Still, when she stepped out onto the campus, she didn’t head to her room–she headed to Andrew’s. When he groggily opened his door, she let herself inside. “I got another letter,” she said, flicking on the lights.
Wincing at the brightness, he muttered, “What?” She thrust the letter into his hands. As he read it through, his back straightened and his eyes grew more alert. When he handed it back, it was with a question in his eyes.
“No one yet,” she whispered, “But don’t go anywhere alone. Make sure Jen and Hailey don’t, either.” Sighing, she added, “We have a PI on it now.”
“A private investigator? Who?”
“His name is Anthony Garcias.” When she saw Andrew didn’t recognize him, she added, “He’s good.”
“I assume.”
She turned to leave, but Andrew stopped her. “Are you sure you should be going out there alone?”
“I’ll be fine. It isn’t far.”
Still, he insisted on accompanying her. Since the night’s events were beginning to catch up with her, she let him.
* * * *
Lori woke early, early enough to still catch Keri in her room. When she was sure the blonde was inside, she knocked on the adjoining door to the bathroom.
“Lori?” Keri said as she opened it.
Why did she sound surprised? Who else would be knocking on this door?
Because she didn’t want the blonde to discount her warning, Lori tried to be as far from her usual brooding self as possible. “Keri,” she said in a polite, civil tone. “May I come in?”
“Uh, sure.”
After she sat on the bed, leaving Keri to stand, she said, “Please listen to me. This is not a joke or a hoax. Don’t go anywhere alone.”
Keri raised her eyebrows. “Why?”
Swallowing, Lori wondered how much she could trust her with. She had never spoken much to Keri, aside from her initial, “I sleep during the day, so don’t worry about your bathroom schedule.” Best to keep it simple.
“Someone’s been sending me threatening letters.”
“Who?”
If Lori had known that, she would be at the police station–or at the perpetrator’s doorstep. “I don’t know.”
“Can I see them?”
Lori blinked at the blonde. Why would she want to read her threatening letters? Aside from simple curiosity, at least.
Keri explained, “I’m a psych major. Maybe I could help.”
“Give me a second,” Lori muttered. Striding back into her own room, she pulled the letters out of her sock drawer. Reluctantly, she passed them over. “There have been murders, too,” Lori found herself confessing. “Two, one note for each.”
As Keri perused them, Lori studied her. Oddly enough, she seemed calm. Unusually pale, but calm. She held up the second note. “Who died for this one?”
“An acquaintance of mine. Someone I thought untouchable. The first you know of, but he posed her to look like me.”
Frowning, Keri asked, “How do you know it’s a he?”
“What?”
“Your stalker could be female.”
Lori shrugged. Possible, but her gut told her the killer was male. Still, she didn’t tell Keri that. Instead, she said, “I suppose.”
Handing the notes back, Keri said, “The letters point to a religious fanatic. Have you joined any cults recently?”
About to shake her head, Lori paused. Did the Order count as a cult? It probably did, in Keri’s mind. “One,” she admitted. “But our leader recently went missing.”
“Could the killer think you had something to do with it?”
Lori gasped like a fish out of water. Why would she take the Spenta Michos? Outrageous! “I assumed the killer had taken him to protect him from me.”
“From you? How are you a threat?”
Lori hesitated. Ever since she had left her hometown, she had kept her secret in an impregnable safe inside her head. Ironically, circumstance had her spilling her secret more and more. With a sigh, she admitted, “I…have visions sometimes.”
“And would this make you a threat in your cult?”
“It could,” Lori said cautiously. It wouldn’t–she thought–by the Spenta Michos’s principles, but it would by old Christian principles.
“Then I suggest you disappear from your cult.”
If only it was so simple. Once induced into the Order, one was an Order member until death–a fate which would approach prematurely if you intended to leave. Besides, she genuinely believed in the Spenta Michos. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, turn her back on him.
Smiling, she lied through her teeth. “I will. And Keri? You’ll take my advice?” Lori didn’t want anyone–anyone else–harmed because of her.
Thankfully, Keri nodded. “I’ll go stay with a friend for a while. But what about you, Lori? Do you have anyone to go to? You shouldn’t be in here by yourself.”
“I have somewhere to go,” she muttered, thinking of Terrence. Still, a meteorite would have to flatten the University before she would move in with him. She shut the door behind her, counting down the minutes before Terrence reared his vampiric head.
When he knocked on the door, she immediately crossed to it to let him in. He blinked at her, slipping into the room and closing the door behind him. “How did you know I wasn’t the killer? You need to be more careful, Lori!”
She rolled her eyes at him. “You’re the only one who ever comes to my door, and I didn’t get any warning vibes, all right?” Thrusting the two notes into his hands for safekeeping, she made a show of tucking her stake and dagger into her boots. “I warned Keri. She’s going to stay with her boyfriend for a few days.”
“You shouldn’t be here alone,” Terrence muttered.
Throwing up her hands, Lori groaned. “Not you, too! Look, I’m fine here on my own. I’m on the University campus. I’ll barricade my door before I go to sleep and I won’t leave without an escort, all right?” When Terrence opened
his mouth to argue further, she pushed him toward the door. “We were going to see Garcias, weren’t we? Let’s go.”
Terrence hauled her to a stop. “Wait. You told me before, seeing auras lets you know whether someone has any ill-will towards you, right?”
“Not exactly,” Lori muttered. “I’ll know if they hold ill-will. But I won’t know who it’s directed towards.”
“Close enough,” Terrence said. “I want you to do whatever you do to see auras all the time.”
“The colors hurt my eyes,” she protested. “How would you like to go walking around like you’re inside a kaleidoscope?”
“Then at least do it whenever I’m not here.”
Grudgingly, she agreed.
“And whenever I need you to in public.”
“Fine.”
“And if you ever feel threatened.”
“Okay, but that’s it!”
Terrence smiled in relief. “Let’s go see Garcias, then.”
The private investigator was not terribly thrilled at the prospect of another letter. Unfortunately, he couldn’t tell anything from it by the words alone. “Did you touch it?”
Lori nodded guiltily. “And Terrence, and my friends Andrew and Keri.”
Garcias sighed and handed it back. “There’s nothing I can do with it, then. If there’s another, touch it as little as possible. I might be able to get some prints off it.”
Only an idiot would be so careless. Still, she nodded to indicate her understanding.
Terrence stood behind her. He began to run his hands soothingly over her arms. Before she could wrench herself out of his grasp, he leaned down and murmured softly, “Do it now.”
For a minute, she wondered what he was talking about. Then, remembering, she closed her eyes, invoked her second sight, and opened them. Garcias shone with a myriad of colors–among them grief, determination, and urgent curiosity. The ill-will he held at the moment was so small she could barely detect it; he posed her no threat. If he were the murderer, he would have been black with hatred. It had polluted the girl the killer had posed to look like her. Given that she was in the same room with him, he wouldn’t have been able to hold back his intent. Thankfully, Garcias was as he seemed. Leaning back against Terrence’s warm shoulder, she whispered, “Clear.”
When he stepped away from her, her stomach clenched in disappointment. Resolutely, she buried the feeling. Terrence was only with her until he was no longer needed.
* * * *
Lori couldn’t sleep. An entire day had passed with no note, no murder, and no horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach. But it was back–and if possible, this time it felt even worse than with Shark or the first girl. What was worse than death?
She got her answer soon after she stepped off campus with Terrence, about to choose a place to eat. Her cellphone rang.
Scissors’ hysterical voice filled the line. “Lori, oh God, Lori,” she sobbed. “You have to come down to the club. Now!”
Lori stopped in her tracks. Terrence nearly bowled her over. Glaring at him, she said into the phone, “Scissors? Scissors, slow down. What happened?”
“Ritchie’s dead!
Lori felt as though someone had knifed her in the gut. “How?”
“He just went out back to put out the garbage, and he never came back, and I–I–” She drew a very audible, unsteady breath. “When I found him, he was dead!”
With a cold horror, Lori realized she had neglected to warn her friends at Underground about the danger. “Don’t go anywhere alone,” she cautioned. “I’ll be right there.”
Terrence’s hand rested lightly on her back. His eyes drilled into her. As she hung up the phone, she informed him, “Ritchie’s dead.”
“Ritchie.”
“The bartender you talked to about me.”
Terrence swore.
As Lori sprinted over the pavement, she dialed Garcias’ number. “I need you to come to Underground.” She rattled off the address. “There’s been another murder. And I’m pretty damn sure it’s connected.”
Sliding her phone closed, she gazed up at the night sky as Terrence flagged a cab. He followed her gaze to the full moon overhead. “It’s just coincidence.”
“Bullshit. He was waiting outside the club for someone I knew to come out.” She met Terrence’s blue gaze, which seemed to blaze in the dark. “I hope we get this son of a bitch.”
Underground was in chaos, as well it should be. Unlike with the first murder–which had been far enough away from Underground’s doors not to qualify as being on their property–the club was closed to the public for the night, to accommodate the police investigation. In fact, the authorities were reluctant to let them in. As Terrence’s shoulders tensed, she knew he was a minute away from resorting to intimidation. Against cops, that wouldn’t be good. Luckily, Garcias arrived more or less on their heels. Flashing his ID, he accompanied them inside.
When Lori saw the body, she gagged.
Terrence placed himself solidly behind her and began to soothe her by rubbing her arms. “Anything?” he whispered.
“Same as before,” she choked out.
As she turned, his arms closed around her, shielding her from the carnage. Even so, the image was forever branded on her psyche.
“Then it’s the same person,” Terrence ground out.
“Not necessarily,” she whispered. “It only means he was afraid and hurt when he died and his killer harbored a strong hatred towards something or someone.”
“We’ll know for sure if there’s a note in your room. Come on. You don’t need to stay here.” Fortunately, Garcias gave them the okay to leave.
When they crossed the threshold into her dorm room, a white paper gleamed from the floor. She picked it up, unfolding it as gingerly as possible to preserve any evidence on it. This one held only five words:
Are you ready to repent?
Chapter 6
Two full weeks passed without hearing from the killer, and still, Terrence tried to convince her to move in with him.
“I’m fine here,” she growled for about the hundredth time.
“I’d feel better knowing you were safe.”
A bonus, she thought sarcastically. Terrence suffers. Still, she ground out, “Your apartment’s too small for two people.”
“We’ll go to a hotel then.”
Just where she wanted to be–in a hotel room, alone, with Terrence. Could anyone spell disaster?
Fortunately, she was saved from having to answer, by the ringing of her cellphone. As she slipped it from her pocket, she recognized the number.
“Hi, Cedric.”
“Lori.” He paused. His voice was soft and serious. “There’s no easy way to say this. Uncle Ed and Aunt Clare–they’re dead.”
“What?” she whispered, but as he repeated himself, she still didn’t quite understand. Slowly, she sank down onto the bed. Her fingers felt numb.
She barely even felt Terrence tear the phone from her hands. “What the hell did you say to her?” he growled into the receiver.
“Terrence Welsh. Significant other. Yeah, it’s a huge surprise. What did you say?” Horror crossed his features as he glanced at her. “How?”
After a minute, he knelt in front of her, holding the phone to her ear. Gently, he murmured, “Lori, your cousin wants to speak with you.”
“Ced?” she said. Her voice was weak.
“The funeral’s on Monday, if you’re interested in coming. You can stay with me and Luce.”
The thought of visiting the funeral of two people who likely wouldn’t have attended hers left her disgusted. Even if she still kept in touch with her cousin, she had long ago turned her back on her family. Like they had turned their backs on her.
“No…thank you,” she said distantly. “Say goodbye to them for me.”
When Terrence pulled the phone from her ear, she stared hollowly at the wall. Terrence’s voice droned on in the background as he called Garcias.
“Ano
ther one, yes. Lori’s parents. A car crash, but I think it was deliberate. The other driver was nowhere to be found.”
Lori tuned out his voice. Only when Terrence set the cell down on her nightstand and tentatively sat beside her did she realize the conversation had ended. His hand covered hers, gently soothing her. She looked up into his kind blue eyes.
His fingers trailed along her skin, tracing a path from her cheek to her ear as he tucked away a stray strand of hair. As his gaze strayed to her lips, she licked them. What would it feel like to kiss him–really kiss him, not like those pecks he snuck from her when she wasn’t paying attention? His warm hand traced tantalizing whorls below her ear. Leaning in, she promised herself, just one kiss…
“Why won’t you go to the funeral, love?” he asked gently.
Just like that, her arousal dissipated. And good thing it had, too. What had she been thinking?
Terrence cupped her chin. “I won’t let anyone hurt you. You’ll be safe.”
Slowly, she pulled away. “I haven’t seen my parents since I was eighteen,” she croaked. “They wouldn’t want me there.”
Shifting close, he began to run a hand up and down her arm. “I’m sure that isn’t true.”
“It is.” Her voice was dull, empty. “They haven’t even once asked Cedric about me.”
He tried to gather her in his arms, hold her close, but she pushed him away. To her shame, she felt tears swamp her eyes. She faced the wall to hide them. “I need to be alone for a while. Please.”
He pressed a feather-light kiss to her temple. “Don’t leave and don’t let anyone in,” he reminded gently. As he opened the door, he murmured, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She waited for him to leave before she plucked her laptop closer. With shaking fingers and persistent tears, she typed the latest development into her computer chart:
Ed and Clare Skein dead in car crash, abandoned. 3rd of October.
Then she lay back and waited for the note to arrive.
* * * *
Two weeks later, it finally came. This time, the usual threat was accompanied by an address.
“Garcias,” Lori rasped into the receiver. “This one has an address.”
“I’ll meet you there,” he said grimly. They both knew what they would find.
