Slither

by Bernadette Gardner

  “Interesting tattoo she has,” the man commented.

  “Mr. Gyland, this is Detective Sergeant DeYoung. He is—”

  “He is interested in finding out how a tattoo killed this woman.” DeYoung cut in.

  Rihana’s eyes widened and her confused gaze met Heath’s.

  “I don’t know what you mean.” He did though. He knew exactly what the detective meant.

  “This mark was made by some kind of volatile substance that poisoned Tanesha Wain. This tattoo killed her.”

  Heath refused to allow any muscle in his body to tense up, even as his thoughts contracted into a single, white hot ball. “I didn’t make that mark on her.”

  “Oh? Then who might have made it? It’s new, according to the coroner. The skin around it is still irritated, so it was made just before she died. The ink is pooled underneath the skin in clumps…that’s bad form, isn’t it? Not how it’s supposed to be done.”

  “No.”

  “So what is this stuff?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Mr. Gyland, I can tell by looking at you that you’re hiding something from me.”

  “Are you psychic as well, Detective?”

  “I don’t need to be.”

  “I didn’t make that mark.”

  “He’s telling the truth. He didn’t kill her.”

  At Rihana’s remark, Detective DeYoung’s head whipped in her direction. She’d just done the job of a defense attorney, and the sergeant was obviously not pleased by her defending his chief suspect.

  “Well, someone with a tattoo needle apparently did, and if that’s not you, Mr. Gyland, then it’s someone you know.”

  “I don’t know every tattoo artist in the city.”

  “I bet you know the one in the mirror.”

  “Do I need a lawyer now, Miss Daniels?”

  “No.” She stood and gathered her paperwork against her chest. “Do you have any evidence to hold Mr. Gyland?”

  Now DeYoung sputtered a little, as if someone had clamped their hands around his throat. Judging by the color of his aura, he wanted this conviction so badly it hurt.

  “We haven’t gotten an analysis of the substance yet. We can’t say for certain it’s ink.”

  “Can I go then, Detective? I promise I won’t leave town, as the cliché goes.”

  DeYoung attempted to stare Heath down. Again, Heath didn’t flinch. In his mind, though, he was making calculations. He wouldn’t leave town, but he could cross the dimensional bridge to another world without ever having to leave his apartment.

  “I’ll be seeing you again, Mr. Gyland. Very soon. You can count on that.”

  “I look forward to it, Detective. Now if you’ll excuse me.” Heath rose and moved smoothly past DeYoung. He offered a polite nod to Rihana as he left the interrogation room. Pity he’d never see her again, but there would be time to mourn missed opportunities later, when he was safely away from the Gemii assassin who had killed Tanesha Wain.

  Chapter Two

  “He’s guilty as sin,” DeYoung said the moment Heath Gyland had cleared the room.

  Hugging her file folder to her chest, Rihana stared after the man. Her knees felt like Jell-O and she had to lock them in order to remain standing. Over the years that she’d been allowed to speak to suspects and crime victims, she’d stared into a lot of eyes. She’d met evil head on a few times and she’d suffered right along with those who had been touched by violence and injustice. All those encounters had shaken her, made her nerves feel raw and exposed. No one, though, had ever affected her like Heath Gyland had.

  She wasn’t normally attracted to blond men, and certainly not men with visible tattoos, but when his blue eyes held hers, she’d felt utterly naked and at the same time cloaked in some protective layer. The outside world had faded when he looked at her, and for a moment, she hadn’t feared the quaking.

  “What?” She blinked away her confusion and forced herself to look at Nathan.

  “He did it. I can tell just by looking at him.”

  “I didn’t sense anything overt from him. He’s not violent. I can tell that just by—”

  Nathan waved a dismissive hand. “Come on. Did you see those tats? The fucker’s got snakes on his arms for Christ’s sake.”

  She’d seen them. The twining serpents hugged his muscular forearms, their triangular heads resting on the backs of his hands. “He’s a tattoo artist. If he didn’t have any art on him, that would be strange.”

  “And he was ice cold.”

  Rihana shivered involuntarily. She felt like someone had walked over her grave—at least that’s the way Gramma Essie would have described it. “What do you mean?” She hadn’t shaken Heath Gyland’s hand and now she was glad she’d neglected that pleasantry. If she’d touched him, how deeply would he have been able to get inside her?

  “He didn’t break a sweat. I’ve seen little old ladies in here, pure as the driven snow, and they’re soaked by the time they leave. Just being in this room makes people melt, and he didn’t even have a bead on his upper lip.”

  “Maybe because he’s innocent.”

  “And what makes you so sure? Your killer radar didn’t go off?”

  “No, it didn’t.” Rihana managed her first full breath since Heath’s departure. Arguing with DeYoung actually helped her to focus for once. By degrees, she began to feel more grounded. “I did get the impression he was hiding something, especially after you showed him that picture. I saw it just for a second in his eyes. He recognized the marks.”

  DeYoung pursed his lips. “Why didn’t you say something?”

  “Like you’re so fond of telling me, Nathan, I can’t prove anything with my…abilities. I can only give the ‘real cops’ leads to follow. Consider this a lead. Heath Gyland knows something about the marks on Tanesha Wain’s body but he didn’t kill her.”

  DeYoung rummaged in his coat pocket for his ever-present pack of cigarettes. In flagrant defiance of the No Smoking sign on the wall behind him, he pulled out one slim, paperbound cylinder and stuck it between his lips while he searched for his lighter. “The hell he didn’t,” he said just before the tiny flame erupted from beneath his thumb.

  Rihana didn’t bother to argue. She wouldn’t be able to change Nathan’s mind with talk about her psychic impressions. The only way she could prove Heath Gyland was innocent of Tanesha Wain’s murder would be to find out who had done it. And that was something she believed he would ultimately be able to tell her.

  * * * * *

  Heath paced around the shop with his cell phone pressed to his ear. Every time he passed by the wide gallery window of SkIntense, he stopped to search the darkened street outside. No doubt the police would have their warrant soon and arrive to search the premises for what they believed was the poisoned tattoo ink that had killed Tanesha. The arrival of the authorities wasn’t what had Heath worried. Someone else was coming, someone who moved in the dark and killed with a touch.

  On the fifth ring, Darq finally picked up. A sleepy, slightly accented voice asked, “What is it?”

  “We have to go. The Gemii are here.”

  The silence on the other end of the line stretched long enough that Heath thought perhaps his partner had hung up and sprung into action. “Darq? Did you—”

  “I heard you. Are you sure?”

  “They killed a journalist I met with earlier this week.”

  Another pause left him tapping his fingers impatiently on the counter. He longed to turn on all the lights in the place and banish the deep shadows where an assassin might hide, but if used properly, the darkness was his ally as well. He merely had to remain vigilant.

  “Why would they kill—”

  “I think to prevent us from starting another crèche. They can murder both of us, but if we’ve mated…they have a new generation to contend with.”

  That statement produced a breathy curse from Darq. After so many years on the run, surviving only on temporary relationships, the younger man had fina
lly taken a permanent mate. The choice had been quick and visceral, but one Heath sensed his partner would never regret. The woman, Makena Brady, had been one of Darq’s customers. She’d come in to SkIntense lacking affirmation of her own independence and Darq had helped her regain some control over her life. He’d fallen desperately in love in the process. Heath couldn’t blame him. Makena was beautiful and alluring and well-suited to a man like Darq. Now, unfortunately, her life was in danger as well.

  “Meet me at the apartment in an hour. The police will want to question me again and I can’t risk being delayed any longer.”

  “No.”

  Darq’s response was definitive, but so quiet Heath wasn’t quite sure he heard it.

  “An hou—”

  “No. Makena and I aren’t leaving.”

  “They will find you, Darq. But what’s worse is, they will find her first. They won’t come after you until they’re sure you haven’t procreated.”

  “We’ll get away from the city. This is a big planet with plenty of places to get lost.”

  Heath glanced out the window again. The traffic flowed normally on the street outside. The sound of distant sirens didn’t cause him alarm, but nevertheless he sensed something. A curious presence made the hairs at the back of his neck rise. “Why would you take that risk?”

  “I’m tired of running. I found what I want here and I’m not leaving.”

  “Do you hear yourself? You’re tired of running, but you just said you’d take Makena and run away. This world might be large and overpopulated, but they found us anyway. There’s nowhere you can go.”

  “Trust me. I can keep Makena safe. You go.”

  Heath shook his head. This wouldn’t work. If they all left together, him and Darq and Makena, they could stay ahead of the Gemii. If he left the couple here alone to fend for themselves, ultimately he would be the only one left. The journey he’d begun with Darq when they were merely boys had been long and treacherous. It was not something he wanted to continue on his own. He’d already given up enough, his family, his entire world and a way of life he’d never been able to re-create in any of the dozens of places they’d settled. He wouldn’t walk away from the only connection he still had to his true home.

  “Darq, we have just enough time to get away.”

  “Time’s up, my friend. My journey is over.”

  Heath would have launched into a litany of protests, but the psychic push at the back of his mind had grown to a distraction. He stared at the phone for a moment and decided it wasn’t Darq. He could share his partner’s thoughts on occasion and always knew his moods, but this wasn’t a wordless communication riding under their verbal conversation. There was someone else here, someone feeling for his mind.

  “I have to go,” he said. “But I’ll call back. Stay away from the store. If you want to leave, come to my apartment any time.”

  “We won’t. We’re staying on this world.”

  Heath broke the connection. Later he’d figure out what to do about Darq and Makena. Right now, he had to confront the creature that had stalked him to the shop.

  * * * * *

  She should have gone home and soothed her agitation with a glass of wine or a long soak in the tub, but something had drawn Rihana to the business address listed in Heath Gyland’s paperwork. The tattoo shop, named SkIntense, occupied the corner section of a half-block building. Though the front window had been dark when she arrived, she’d been able to see enough through the tinted glass to discern that inside the place looked more like a couture boutique than a tattoo parlor.

  Framed sample art covered the walls and the small waiting area sported velour upholstered benches and an espresso machine. Lush plants spilled from shelves and a few pieces of abstract art sat on pillars in the corners.

  She could have spent an hour staring at all the visual stimuli the place had to offer, but movement in the shadowed interior sent her quickly around the corner to loiter by the emergency exit. How foolish of her to think she could glean any more information about the man just by lurking around his darkened store. The quaking had eluded her tonight, and to be honest, she was grateful. Her nerves were still raw from their earlier encounter, but she didn’t seem able to distract herself from wondering what about him made her insides tremble just as badly as the visions that had plagued her since childhood.

  She leaned against the brick façade of the building and pulled in a deep breath. She needed to leave and let the “real cops” take over from here.

  The side door swung open just as she heaved her tired body away from the wall. An arm reached out and a strong hand closed over her wrist. “What are you doing here?”

  Rihana’s heart thundered when she came face to face with Heath. He looked more anxious than angry at finding her skulking outside the shop. “I just… I’m doing my job.”

  “Get inside.” He yanked her unceremoniously across the threshold and shut the heavy metal door behind her. They stood for a second in darkness so complete she could only judge his whereabouts by body heat. She felt his arm slide by her, grazing her shoulder, then a brilliant light flared on above. “It’s dangerous for you to be here.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t have time to explain it.” He drew away from her, turned and headed toward the still dark front section of the shop. “Did you drive here?”

  Rihana hurried after him. “Yes, but—”

  “I’ll escort you to your car. Go home, keep your doors locked and don’t come back here.” He began flinging open a series of locks on the glass front door of the shop. The amber glow of the corner street lamp set his strong features in shades of copper. For a moment he resembled a sculpture made of some exotic metal, an icon of virile masculinity and predatory power. Just looking at him made her knees weak.

  She put her hand on the door before he could pull it open. “Tell me what changed for you when Detective DeYoung showed you that photograph. And don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean. I can read you almost as easily as you can read me.”

  Steel blue eyes appraised her as he rolled up the sleeves of his black shirt to expose the serpents on his arms. He seemed more resigned than startled by her revelation. She hadn’t surprised him.

  “The less time you spend in my company, Miss Daniels, the better off you’ll be.”

  “You didn’t kill Tanesha Wain, but she was killed because of your association with her, isn’t that right?”

  The corded muscles in his naked forearms tensed. The serpents etched there seemed poised to strike, but perhaps that was a trick of the light. Slowly, he flipped the locks closed again and lowered his hands to his sides.

  “Tell me what you think you know.”

  Rihana was shivering now. Tremors ran through her core and she fought to keep herself still. “She had to have known something she shouldn’t have. She was killed to keep her quiet.”

  A faint smile lifted the corner of his upper lip. “Now you’re guessing. What happened to your uncanny gift of perception?”

  She could have lied, pulled a flippant response out of her well-rehearsed repertoire, but something prevented her from lying to this man. He’d see through any attempt to hide the truth anyway, so why bother? “It takes a toll. I prefer to rely on my own intuition when I can.”

  “If your intuition tells you Tanesha died to keep a secret, then leave it at that. And leave here before you learn any secrets that could get you killed too.”

  “If you were anyone else, I’d take that as a threat.”

  “You know I’m not a killer.”

  She met his gaze head on. “You could be. If it came down to it.”

  A movement in the shadows outside caught his attention and he stepped back away from the door, pulling her with him. Her skin burned where he touched her. The pressure of his hot fingers on her wrist seemed to brand her. “What did you see?”

  “Nothing.”

  Rather than walk away, she clasped her hand over his, completing the electrical circuit
of their physical contact. She met his gaze and willed herself into the quaking, shattering every rule of etiquette she’d learned from Gramma Essie. She plunged into his mind, figuring she’d get at most a snippet of his last conversation with the dead woman. What she found instead ripped a scream from her lungs and sent her spiraling into darkness.

  Chapter Three

  Rihana’s intrusion into his mind dragged Heath momentarily to a dark place guarded by the beasts to which he’d been bonded as a child. Images flashed before his eyes rapidly, as if someone were turning the pages of a photo album.

  He caught glimpses of his homeworld. The grounds of the royal palace lay in ruins, decimated by the Gemii. He saw the parents of his crèche siblings crying for their lost children and watched them run screaming in the aftermath of an attack that left the sky filled with billowing black smoke.

  Next he saw Darq, barely ten years old, skinny and frightened, fleeing to a protected grotto where their fathers showed them how to summon the dimensional bridge that would provide their only means of escape from a planet on the brink of a devastating war.

  The vision of two young boys stepping through a swirling vortex into the unknown brought back a terror he’d hoped never to feel again, and at that moment, his guardian serpents attacked.

  Their combined psychic energy became a wall, a blunt weapon that swept the intruder, screaming, out of his mind.

  For an instant, Heath saw a different place, a colorless void full of ill-defined shadows and pits of darkness. Then he woke to find Rihana Daniels unconscious on the floor at his feet.

  An interminable ten minutes later she came to slowly, drifting up from the cold, gray world of her visions. Heath understood now why she avoided that place and why her sultry voice took on a hint of sarcasm whenever she uttered the words gift or ability. Her unplanned intrusion into his mind had dragged him with her into the netherworld and sent his guardians into a protective frenzy.

  She blinked in confusion, then her body went rigid when she realized she lay in his tattoo chair, hidden from prying eyes by the crimson curtain that wrapped around his work station. One shaking hand flew to her throat, which he’d exposed by opening her jacket and removing the soft, decorative scarf she wore.