by J. Kenner
Which was good, but didn’t answer her questions.
Her own Internet search supported what she’d learned. The man was a pillar of the community, although he'd left New Orleans a few years ago, only to return in the past week. That explained why she'd never heard of him. According to her research, he was the son of internationally known geneticists, and had inherited their fortune when they'd been killed in a car crash almost ten years ago.
She'd felt a stab of sadness for the man who'd lost his family. He'd grown into a well-known philanthropist, donating a huge percentage of his net worth to hand-picked causes. She scrolled through the list, noting several youth services groups, animal rights funds, literacy programs, the Audubon Zoo, the—
She stopped scrolling, then leaned in closer to the screen, suddenly realizing why his name had seemed so familiar to her. Luc Agassou had sponsored the panther habitat. He'd donated Midnight, the panther that had escaped.
With a start, she sat up straighter, a ridiculous thought occurring to her. She'd been sitting in front of Midnight's cage the first time she'd heard Luc's voice.
Slowly, she let go of the mouse and rolled the chair backwards, her eyes never leaving the screen even though her pulse beat wildly, fear-induced adrenaline coursing through her veins.
Luc's voice. She'd heard it. In her head. Right after she'd opened Alma’s present. She'd been holding the bottle and then, as she'd looked at Midnight, she'd heard it. Heard him.
I know, Caitlyn. I know that you are mine.
Mine. He'd said the same thing in bed.
Trembling, she hugged herself, bending over to stop the threat of tears.
He'd been in her head. He'd been in her bed. And despite everything she told herself, he'd even started to sneak into her heart.
Dear Lord, who was he? How could she hide from him?
More important, did she want to?
"The lady will be moving in with us." Luc sat at the table, his fingertip idly tracing the rim of his iced tea glass.
"She is amenable?" Martin looked up from where he'd been fussing nearby.
Luc avoided the butler's curious glance. "She doesn't know yet. I'm taking her out tonight, and I intend to be extremely persuasive." Martin didn't even blink, simply moved closer, the crystal pitcher in his hand. "More tea?"
"Dammit, Martin, it's the only way."
"I don't recall arguing, sir."
Luc stabbed at a piece of andouille sausage. "The hell you didn't."
"You seem put out, sir."
"I'm not put out. I'm frustrated. It's entirely different."
"Of course, sir."
"I swear, Martin, if you call me sir once more..."
"I understand ... Luc."
Luc pushed back from the table and tossed his napkin on the chair. "I'm out of here."
"May I ask where you're going?"
"I'm going to go get the girl," he said, feeling like a total prick even as he said the words. He headed to the garage. The girl deserved to be romanced and seduced, but he needed her to be available when the change approached.
More than that, he needed the sex to be wild. Feral.
A violent coupling to stave off even more violence.
The most vicious of circles, and he was perpetuating it.
His gut ate at him, a tinge of humanity coloring the instincts that drove him. He moved silently through the garage and slid behind the seat of his Porsche, then fired the engine. The garage door was still down, and for a moment, he just sat there.
So easy.
It would be so easy to end the suffering. His own.
His victims.
No.
He'd found his cure. He'd found Caitlyn. He could have her. He could have life. And he'd give her as much romance as possible. And even if it wasn't perfect, so what?
Luc had seen enough of this world to know that very little ever was.
He steeled himself, seeking strength. Then he lifted his hand to the visor and pressed the button to open the garage door. The mechanism kicked in, raising the door and letting the late-afternoon sun filter into the space.
Eerie shadows danced on the walls, but Luc ignored them. Shadows didn't disturb him. The only monster that mattered already lived in him.
With a violence born of frustration, he slammed the car into reverse and peeled out, leaving rubber scorch marks on the polished concrete and the pale asphalt driveway.
He maneuvered the street in a frenzy. The change didn't tingle in his blood right now, but even so, he was desperate to see her.
Her apartment topped a garage in the Garden District, and he parked in front of the stairs leading up to her home. He got out of the Porsche, not bothering to close the door behind him, and climbed the stairs two at a time.
He pounded on the door, anxious for her to answer, desperate to touch her once again.
Nothing.
He pounded again. And still Cate didn't come.
After a moment, he simply broke in as he had the day before.
Her rooms were dark and had an abandoned feel. He shook his head, sure he was simply being foolish. It was after three. She'd probably simply gone to work.
He crossed to the phone and dialed the precinct, his confidence not dwindling until the receptionist told him that Detective Raine was on one of her days off, and could someone else help him?
No. There was no one else.
Silent, he hung up the phone, then walked to her bathroom as if sleepwalking. No toothbrush. No hairdryer. No deodorant.
Damn it all to hell. She'd left him.
"You want to tell me again why you're camping out in my guest room?"
Cate shook her head, avoiding Adam's stern gaze.
"I'm sorry. Bad date. The guy makes me nervous. I ... I just thought I should make myself scarce for a while."
He sat on the edge of the bed, tugging his wife, Alice, down beside him. "Shit, Cate."
Alice smacked him on the thigh. "Adam!" She rose and went to hook an arm around Cate, steering her to the bed and shoving Adam aside. "You're welcome to stay for as long as you need. I completely understand." She flashed Adam a meaningful look. "Men can be such asses."
He held up his hands in surrender. "What the hell did I do?"
"Nothing," Alice said. "Yet." She stood up, pulling Adam along with her. "We'll leave you to unpack or whatever. If you want to join us in the living room, feel free. We'll most likely be watching some television program that drips testosterone."
Adam pointed to himself, an affronted expression drawn on his face. "You see? You see what I put up with?"
Alice rolled her eyes and tugged him from the room with one last sympathetic look in Cate's direction. Alone, Cate curled up on the bed and hugged the pillow, willing herself not to nibble away another nail as the horrible truth ate at her—that was what she wanted. What Adam and Alice had. Love. Camaraderie.
They were soul mates, and Cate was certain that, no matter what, they'd always be together.
Would she ever find her soul mate? She licked her lips, her arms tightening around the pillow as the real question seeped through her. Had she already found him and then run away?
Restlessness tinged her blood, and she slid off the bed, determined not to think about it. She'd made the decision to stay at Adam's place and it was a good plan. She needed distance, needed to think. And she wasn't about to second guess her own choices.
She glanced at the clock. Not quite six. Time to unpack and then pop into the living room and join her friends. Adam had said something about ordering pizza, and her mouth watered with anticipation. She lived in New Orleans, city of amazing food, and yet a super cheesy pizza always sent her right over the edge.
She hadn't packed much, so it didn't take long to put everything away. Underwear. A few pairs of jeans. A couple of T-shirts. Some slacks and tops for work.
And there, in the little side pocket under a pair of socks, she found the bottle.
With a tiny bit of trepidation she pulle
d it out. She didn't even remember packing it, and yet for some reason, her subconscious had thought it was important.
She didn't know why, but she was determined to find out, and so she rummaged through her purse until she found the business card Alma had given her the first week they’d met—a card on which she’d scrawled her home number on the black side.
She’d never before called the woman at home, but she did now, and as the phone rang, she wasn’t sure if she wanted Alma to answer ... or if she’d rather remain blissfully ignorant.
No. Better to know the truth, and when Alma’s soft voice answered the line, Cate exhaled in genuine relief.
“Alma, it’s Cate. Caitlyn Raine? I was wondering if I could ask you about—"
"The bottle?"
"I—well, yes. How did you know?"
"Simple. I recently gave it to you. And it is the kind of thing that fascinates, is it not? What do you wish to know?"
"Anything you can tell me. The writing for starters. Do you know what it says?"
Even as she asked the question, she felt foolish. What difference did it make what the inscription on some stupid glass bottle said?
"It’s just that I’m curious," she said, as if Alma needed an explanation. "Because it’s such a lovely piece."
She purposefully didn't relay the strange wash of sensations that had invaded her soul since she'd unwrapped the bottle. That little tidbit was simply too personal.
"It is a Romani inscription. It means, the strength of the gift. I thought it was appropriate."
"Appropriate? Do you mean, like a gypsy curse?"
"A curse? I suppose it could mean that. It enhances the paranormal that surrounds you."
Cate frowned. "I’m sorry. I don’t understand."
She could almost hear the smile as Alma said, "You will."
"But—"
Except it was too late. The older woman said goodbye and ended the call.
Cate hugged her knees to her chest as she remembered her mother’s accusations. That she was bad. Cursed.
And now, the only thing that Caitlyn knew for certain was that she needed to stay as far away from the bottle—and Luc Agassou—as she possibly could.
Six
The setting sun cast shadows across the pages that Cate had spread over the large, wooden table. But Cate barely noticed. She was too lost in the work to notice something as trivial as the fading light.
"Come on, kid. You need to take a break."
She looked up, startled, at her partner who seemed to have materialized behind her.
He plucked one of the dozen files off the patio table and leafed through it. "Even you have to eat sometime."
Cate frowned, reaching back to lift her heavy hair off the nape of her neck. She was damp and sticky, but none of that mattered.
"I need to figure this out," she said. "I need to catch him." "You're supposed to be taking time off."
"No shit," she said.
Adam sighed and took the chair opposite. They'd been working this case since day one, and they'd both kept photocopies of all the relevant reports and key evidence. She'd spent the morning reviewing the documents once again, hoping they'd missed something before and she'd find the clue they needed.
"Okay," he said. "What have you got?"
She met his eyes. "Our perp is feline." As much as she hated the thought that the panther she'd spent so many afternoons with was a mauler, she knew there was no other explanation.
Adam frowned. "There are some suggestions that the perp might be human. Honestly, it’s the weirdest damn thing I’ve ever seen. Manny agrees," he added, referencing the baffled medical examiner. New Orleans was not your average town in a lot of ways, but this series of attacks profoundly illustrated that truism.
"Adam, I know I'm right."
He met her eyes, and she held his gaze. After a moment, he nodded. “Okay. Tell me." The playfulness was gone from his voice, and his expression was totally serious. All cop. He nodded toward the evidence spread out on the table. "Tell me what you see."
And so she did, trying to convince him without telling him the biggest clue of all—that, somehow, she'd seen the attacks.
She wished she could simply write it off to her subconscious, her mind processing the details of a case as yet unsolved. But it was more than that. So much more.
And there was no denying that the culprit was a great, black cat.
Three days.
For three days, Luc searched for her, and three times the earth turned on its axis without any sign of his Cate. He'd talked to her landlord, but he'd had no more clue as to her whereabouts than Luc did. He'd gone to the precinct, but these were her days off, and while they'd offered to have her paged, he'd declined. He knew well enough that she wouldn't return the page.
Something had scared her off. He’d scared her off. But he needed to get her back, and soon. His feline instincts were clamoring just below the surface. He'd gone days without the change, but soon ... soon it would come again. And without Cate, Luc was certain someone else would get hurt.
He'd hit the point of desperation. She was gone, and if he wanted to spare any more victims he needed to lock himself in the basement at his house. A prisoner, but out of harm's way.
With a deep groan of frustration, he stood in the middle of St. Charles Street, his arms to the side. He turned in a slow circle, his head tilted up to the sky. He stood on the cable-car track, but there was no car coming. He wouldn't have cared, anyway. His fate was sealed. This was his one last-ditch effort to find her. If it didn't work ... well, he'd worry about that when it happened.
Closing his eyes, he let nothingness fill his consciousness. Somewhere, in the depths of his soul lay the heart of a great beast. And a heart that sang with Cate's. He called to her now, reached out, his mind finding that silken thread that connected their souls.
Searching, longing, needing.
The cable car approached, easing down the track toward him, but Luc neither knew nor cared. All his focus was on this mission. He had to succeed. He had to find her.
His mind found the thread and he held tight, following it through the dark and dank shadows, the hidden places. Further and further as the cable car groaned closer and closer.
A house. A room. A man and a woman.
And there, finally, he found her.
He opened his eyes just as the car approached.
And as the car glided over the spot where Luc had stood only moments before, he was already racing across the street, heading toward his Caitlyn.
“Cate.”
Startled, she looked up from her notes into Luc's copper eyes. She expected anger, a sense of violation, instead she felt almost giddy to see him again.
"How..." She trailed off, the question not worth asking. Somehow, she was his. Of course, he'd found her.
"You ran," he said.
She nodded. What had earlier seemed like a survival instinct now seemed kneejerk and foolish. She wanted to be with this man. Wanted to soak up his heat-filled gaze and lose herself in the protection of his arms. She took a deep breath and decided simply to tell him the truth. "I was scared."
"Of me?"
"No," she said honestly. "Of us."
"You feel it, too." Deep relief tinged his voice.
She frowned, her eyes searching his face. "Didn't you know?"
"I couldn't be sure." He took the seat that Adam had sat in earlier, then pulled one of the folders to him, ignoring the bright red Confidential stamp.
"Those are police files."
"So I see."
She didn't object further, even though she should. Instead, she just watched as he flipped through the papers.
"Will you catch him?"
She propped her chin on her fist. "Him? Not it?" His expression was unreadable. "Human or cat," he said, "it doesn't matter. Both are attacking."
"I know. And, yes, I'll catch it."
"It? Not him?" he said, tossing her question back at her.
"Ou
r perp is a panther. The panther that escaped from the zoo."
His eyes darkened. "I didn't realize the police had confirmed that yet. The news reports suggest that a human culprit is still being sought.”
"I know. But this is my theory."
"Oh?"
She nodded. "I'm keeping an open mind, of course. But I'm sure I'm right. And in the end, I will catch the panther. It's ... personal."
His gaze seemed to bore into her. "Personal?"
She felt her cheeks heat. "I’m sure that seems foolish to you, but I used to go to the panther habitat."
"And you feel betrayed."
She squinted at him, surprised he could read her so well. "I ... yes. Yes, that's it." She started to gather her papers. "At any rate, I’ll catch him. It's my job. And I owe it to the people he's hurt."
He nodded, somewhat thoughtfully, then held out a hand. "Come with me, Cate. I think it's time we talked."
"I—"
"Cate. Just come."
All thoughts of argument abandoned her. She knew she would go with him. Hell, from the moment she'd left her apartment, she’d known she would go with him if he found her. That was, after all, why she'd run in the first place.
But she wanted this. She truly did. There was something comforting about his presence, and she wondered if that's what happened between soul mates. This soothing, easy compliance. No thought. Simply feelings and trust.
The trust frightened her. Except for Adam, she'd never really trusted anyone. She'd learned from her mother that loyalty was an illusion and that trusting was the easiest way to get burned.
With Luc, though, trust had bloomed, despite the frantic lust that sparked between them. Or, perhaps, because of it.
The trouble, of course, was that now she expected to get burned.
"Wow." Cate turned in a circle, taking in the splendor that was his home. "Wow," she repeated.
Luc couldn't help his grin. Some of the homes in the famous Garden District had started to fall into ruin. But not the Agassou mansion. The house was his only link to the happiness he'd once enjoyed with his family. He could never let it fall into disrepair.
