He caught her hands and lowered them to her lap. “Us?”
“Mmm-hmm.” She leaned toward him, laying a hand on his thigh. “You and me—” She slid the hand up, finding his erection. “Us. Simple as that.”
Zach caught his breath as a wave of pleasure washed over him. She moved her fingers, stroking and massaging. His head fell back.
“Let’s take care of this thing between us tonight. You feel it. Tell me you do.”
He felt a lot of things at that moment, not the least of which was white hot arousal. But crazy as it seemed to him, it wasn’t enough.
“No.” He moved her hand. “Stop.”
“You’re not serious.”
He sat up, forcibly setting her away from him. “Oh yeah, I am.”
Angry color flooded her face. “I wouldn’t have guessed you to be a liar.”
“Actually, I’m being completely honest with you.”
“Bullshit.” She jumped up, straightening her clothes. “To pretend you don’t feel the heat between us makes you a liar.”
Mick was blunt. Except about the awareness that crackled between them. That was always off limits.
He didn’t know who she was right now.
“Oh, I feel it. But you are not okay right now. So, this isn’t okay. Not with me. And like you’ve said a dozen times, we’re partners and can’t cross that line.”
“I changed my mind.”
“Why?”
“Because I want you and you want me. So, what’s the problem?”
“Why now, Mick?”
She looked annoyed. “Why not now?”
He arched an eyebrow. “Maybe because you’re acting totally whacked out.”
She narrowed her eyes. “If you turn me down now, Harris, it’ll never happen.”
“Now or never, is that what you’re saying?”
“Maybe it is.”
“Okay, I choose never.” He stood. “Time for you to go, partner.”
Her face went momentarily slack with surprise, then tightened with fury. She jumped to her feet. “You’re going to come crawling to me. You know that, right? And I’m just going to laugh.”
She stalked to the door and he followed. “Mick, wait.”
“Too late, Hollywood.”
“Look, I’m not taking advantage of you when you’re obviously—” he thought of Arianna’s word, “—unraveled.”
“Whatever. You lose.”
A moment later, she was gone, slamming the door behind her.
Chapter Thirty-one
Wednesday, February 14
3:25 P.M.
Angel peered out the apartment’s front window. High school boys in khaki pants and navy blazers streamed toward cars parked along the side streets. The Catholic boys’ school up the street must have just let out for the day.
They laughed and called to one another, and Angel wondered what it would be like to feel so free, to have not a care in the world except a backpack full of homework.
Arianna rented one side of a Banks Street double, within walking distance of LAM. Arianna said there was a place she could go, away from New Orleans, where she and her baby would be safe. From the Dark One and his army of Dark Bearer lieutenants. And the High Council as well.
But it would mean going into hiding. Leaving everyone and everything she knew behind. Including Seth. He wouldn’t be able to find her.
The thought of it hurt almost more than she could stand. She curved her arms around her middle, imagining her arms were Seth’s, that he was holding her.
Where are you, Seth? I need you.
We need you.
She blinked. One of the school boys had stopped on the sidewalk outside the window and was staring at her. When he realized he’d been caught, he moved on. That’s when she saw him. Seth. On the opposite side of the street, walking toward Canal Boulevard.
Her heart seemed to stop and she raced to the door. “Seth!” she called as loudly as she could. “Seth!”
But between the traffic noise and the jostling boys, he didn’t hear her. There was no way he could, she thought, panicked. Even if she screamed at the top of her lungs.
Angel darted outside, slamming the door behind her. She leapt down the porch steps and across the sidewalk, then ran into the road. A car laid on the horn and she heard the sickening crunch of metal meeting metal.
Someone was yelling. She didn’t pause or even glance in that direction. She couldn’t lose him. Not when she’d finally found him again.
She reached the sidewalk in one piece and ran as fast as she could, calling his name. She felt the stares of people around her, but didn’t care. The only gaze she cared about was Seth’s.
He’d reached Carrollton Avenue and was in the crosswalk, nearly to the other side. The crosswalk signal began to flash. The light was about to change. Traffic was stacked up and waiting. Impatiently inching forward.
She wasn’t going to make it.
No! She couldn’t lose him. She wouldn’t.
Angel sped up. She reached the curb and stepped off. Suddenly she was stumbling backward, landing against the chest of a burly-looking man wearing a leather jacket and a Hell’s Angels T-shirt.
“Stupid girl,” he said, voice gruff. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed.” He set her away from him, making sure she was steady before he let go. “You be more careful, you hear?”
Dazed, Angel nodded, and then he was gone, crossing in the other direction. She turned back to the traffic whizzing through the intersection, scanning the other side of the road and sidewalk beyond, searching frantically for Seth.
A cry bubbled to her lips. She’d lost him.
The sun was going down by the time Angel made it back to Arianna’s place. She was exhausted and heartsick. She had gone up and down all the side streets, had popped into shops, restaurants and other businesses along Canal Street, hoping to catch sight of him again. She’d turned back when she reached LAM, worried someone would see and recognize her.
Angel let herself into the apartment, realizing she hadn’t even locked the door when she left. She stepped inside, stopped and listened. There was something different in the air, she thought. As if someone—or something—had just passed through, leaving a psychic trail.
That was Zach’s area, not hers. She was imagining it. She closed the door behind her, the snap of the latch resounding in the quiet.
Gooseflesh ran up her arms and she rubbed them, chilled. Irresponsible, she thought, leaving the door unlocked. And ungrateful. If Arianna had gotten home before her, she’d be pissed—and Angel couldn’t blame her.
But she wouldn’t have done anything differently either.
“I’m home,” she called tentatively, peeking around the corner into the living area. “Arianna?”
Empty. Nothing different since she charged out the door after Seth. Nothing but the atmosphere.
She ran a hand wearily across her forehead. If that had even been Seth. Maybe her thoughts and longings had conjured him? Maybe she had been running after some dark-haired stranger. He’d probably wondered who the crazy chick behind him was.
The crazy, pregnant chick. Not that he would have known that.
But she’d do well to remember it, she thought, suddenly realizing she was not only exhausted, but chilled to the bone as well. And if that biker dude hadn’t grabbed her, she—and her baby—would most likely be dead.
Tears stinging her eyes, Angel dragged herself to the bedroom Arianna had set her up in. She crossed to the bed and stopped. Her sketchpad lay open on top of the quilt, to a drawing she’d done three months ago, before Seth had disappeared. It showed the two of them together, their torsos joined, their lower bodies depicted as twisting roots planted deep into the earth—a portrayal of their fierce connection, physical and spiritual.
But that wasn’t what made her heart skip a beat. Someone had used her charcoal pencil to leave her a message:
I’m coming for you.
Not someone. Seth.
&n
bsp; Angel sank to her knees beside the bed. She hadn’t been wrong. Seth loved her. He’d loved her then, and he loved her now.
And they would be together again soon.
Chapter Thirty-two
10:45 P.M.
Heart in her throat, Micki stared at the note propped up on Angel’s pillow. The note, written on a piece of paper ripped from her sketch book and written in charcoal, looked as if it had been the last thing Angel had done before she left.
After all the things you said to me about Seth, I can’t stay here anymore. I’m living with Arianna until I figure out what to do next. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.
Angel
When did she leave? The days had begun to run together, but Micki was certain she’d seen her the other morning. Hadn’t she?
No, Micki remembered, she hadn’t actually seen her. Just her empty cereal bowl—evidence that she’d been there.
Micki told herself it was for the best. Considering what was going on, and Natalie King’s threat against those Micki cared about, the last place Angel needed to be was here.
But still, it hurt. She hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye.
How would it feel to lose those you love most?
Natalie King’s words rang in her ears and she wondered if this was what she’d meant. Her friends deserting her, turning on her, rejecting her. She could live with that, Micki decided. As long as King didn’t hurt them.
Micki propped the note carefully back in its original spot. She had planned to talk to Angel, suggest she stay somewhere else for a while, someplace safe. Until Eli and the professor returned and helped her figure out what to do.
Micki started to pace. If they returned.
Stop it, Micki. They’re coming back.
A couple days, Arianna had said.
Arianna, who now had Angel.
Micki stopped short, heart lodging in her throat. What if she didn’t? What if Angel was in trouble? Tricked by Natalie King or whatever she was?
Micki glanced at the clock. Nearly eleven o’clock. Late to be calling anyone, but she couldn’t not call. Micki dug her phone from her pocket and punched in Arianna’s number.
The woman answered, sounding wary.
“Is Angel with you? This is Micki.”
Silence.
“Is she?”
“Angel’s with me, yes.”
“Thank God, I was afraid—”
“I can’t talk to you, Micki. I’m sorry. Good night.”
She ended the call and Micki was left holding the dead phone to her ear. Mad Dog Dare didn’t cry, Micki reminded herself, fighting the urge to do just that. Mad Dog crushed skulls.
But that wasn’t the way she felt. She felt wounded. And alone. In a way she hadn’t since Hank’s death.
His medal seemed to warm and she curled her fingers around it. The warmth seemed to sink into her, reassuring her she wasn’t alone. That he was still with her.
The feeling was so real that at the knock at her door, his name jumped to her lips. Catching herself, Micki retrieved her service weapon and made her way to the door. She peered through the peep hole.
Eli. It was Eli. She tucked her gun into her waistband and flung open the door. He folded her in his arms, and she clung to him, relief spilling over her like the sun.
“When did you get back? Arianna said you and Professor Truebell had been called to the High Council.”
“Tonight.”
He held her at arms’ length and looked her in the eyes. Their blue was exactly how she remembered.
“I’m sorry it took so long for me to come.”
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
“Fine.” He smiled reassuringly. “Routine business.”
“Is Professor Truebell with you?”
“He’s still there.”
“But he’s okay?”
“Yes, Michaela. There’s nothing to worry about, at least with us.”
His mouth curved into that gentle, infinitely wise smile of his. Micki realized how much she identified Eli by both that gentleness and the wisdom. “Come.” He caught her hand. “Tell me what’s causing you such distress.”
They went to the living room and sat together on the couch, their bodies angled to face one another. She opened her mouth and the story spilled out. All of it, from Thomas King’s suicide and the investigation, to her confrontation with Natalie King. And also of the past, The Three Queens investigation, Rene Blackwood’s threat, and Hank’s sudden death.
“I don’t know how it’s possible,” she said, “but Natalie King and Rene Blackwood are the same woman. She killed Hank six years ago, and she means to hurt the people close to me again. She can’t be a Dark Bearer because Zach didn’t pick up any energy from her, but I got the feeling she knew about the Lightkeepers and their special abilities. I feel like I’m losing my mind!”
“You’re not losing your mind, Michaela. I promise you that.”
A sound of relief spilled past her lips. “That’s good news, at least.”
“Don’t start celebrating yet, Michaela, because what I’m going to tell you now is not good news. What you’re describing is a powerful force for darkness, a creature we call a Chameleon.”
“A chameleon? Like the garden lizards that change color to camouflage themselves?”
“Exactly.”
“They change their appearance?”
“Completely, yes. Age, race, gender. Everything. Some are tricksters and troublemakers, others are driven to darker acts. Those are hunters.”
“What do they hunt for?”
“Pleasure.”
Gooseflesh raced up her arms. “What do you mean?”
“They take pleasure in causing pain, both physical and emotional. They do what they can, because they can. They act without regard for the feelings of anyone but themselves and their own desires.” He looked away, then back. “All that pain and chaos, the lives ruined. That gives them great pleasure.”
Micki acknowledged her heart was racing with excitement. “That’s the definition of a psychopath.”
He didn’t correct her and went on, “What makes these creatures particularly dangerous isn’t that they can change their appearance. It’s their ability to access their victims’ deepest desires or fears, their most closely held secrets and memories, and imprint them to use against you. They become what you most desire—or fear.”
Answers, Micki realized. Finally, after six years, she was getting answers. “And they can use this ability to drive someone to kill themselves or others?”
“Among other things, yes.” He paused to let that sink in, then went on, “In the case of King, she became everything he always dreamed of.”
Micki nodded. “The inscription on his wedding band was ‘Our love. A dream come true.’ It was right there, exactly what she was doing.”
“Yes. And once she had him, she began orchestrating his death.” He paused. “Did she touch you?”
“Yes.” Her heart sank. “That’s how they do it, isn’t it? How they access your hopes and fears? The way Zach can shake your hand and know if you’re telling the truth?”
“Zach’s abilities are insignificant compared to those of this chameleon. Don’t underestimate her. It would be a mistake.”
Micki thought of Hank. That’s how Blackwood had known about Hank, that he was the person she loved most, that hurting him would hurt her more than anything.
A knot of tears formed in her throat. She forced it back. Everything she’d thought all along had been correct—her loving Hank had caused his death.
Micki squeezed her hands into fists. “I won’t. I’ve seen how destructive she is.”
“Good.”
“You called her a dark force. She’s not a Dark Bearer?”
“No. Dark Bearers are part of the Dark One’s army. Their allegiance is to him, his desires and agenda. For chameleons, their allegiance is only to themselves and their own pleasure.”
Micki let out a thou
ghtful breath. “When I confronted her, she grabbed both my wrists. Her touch was as cold as ice and it felt as if it was penetrating my flesh and bone. Making its way to my heart. That’s how she killed Hank, isn’t it?”
“Probably.” His expression turned pensive. “She could have killed you then, but she didn’t. What you need to ask yourself is why.”
“Why she let me live? Or why she’s singled me out?”
“Both.”
Micki thought a moment. “She’s doing this to me because I threatened her. For whatever reason, I picked up things about her that other humans don’t. And I vowed to stop her.”
“So, she wants to punish you.”
“No,” Micki countered. “She’s afraid of me.”
He looked skeptical. “Then why did she let you live? If she was afraid of you, why not kill you?”
“That would’ve been too easy,” Micki said. “Too painless. I think she wants me to suffer. Like you said, hurting others is pleasurable to her. So what would be more pleasurable than watching your adversary suffer?”
“I believe you’re right about that, Michaela.”
Micki stood and crossed to the window. She stared out at the dark street. “She’s overconfident.”
“Be careful,” he said, the slightest edge in his voice. “It’s you who’s sounding overconfident.”
“How do we stop her, Eli? I’m afraid she’s going after Zach or Angel.”
He looked away for a moment, then back at her. “They’re very clever. And very difficult to stop or kill. But we can do it, if we work together.”
Something in his voice suddenly sounded different. Then he spoke again, and it was gone. “Don’t worry about it. The professor and I will figure it out, come up with a plan. Until then, just be cautious.”
She went weak with relief. “When will the professor be back?”
“In the morning.” He stood and started for the door. “In the meantime, get some sleep, then go back to work tomorrow. I’ll talk to Zach and Arianna, get things straight with them. By tomorrow afternoon, I’m sure we’ll have something for you.”
“Thank you, Eli.” She gave him a hug at the door. “Seriously, if you hadn’t come here tonight, I don’t know what I would have done.”
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