“And I understand that,” he said quickly, his face making it abundantly clear that he didn’t. “I just… I have to admit, I got freaked out when you had that… scare.”
She rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t a scare. Some blood got on me, that’s all. Happens every day.”
“They did an HIV test, Elena!”
“They always do that, it doesn’t mean anything, the guy wasn’t even a drug user and the blood didn’t get anywhere near my mouth. Just procedure.”
“I was worried about you,” he said, voice dripping with false sincerity.
He’d been worried about himself, she remembered with irritation. It had been a stupid accident — there’d been an incident on the street between two guys. One of them had hauled off and stabbed the other with a concealed weapon — Elena had been first on the scene and gotten a face full of blood for her trouble, spraying from the guy’s newly-opened arterial wound. It was policy to run a bunch of tests when it came to blood, but she hadn’t had any serious concerns… and she’d gotten a clean bill of health back, too. Still, Nick had taken it as an opportunity to try to get her to quit.
“I just don’t know why you’d keep doing such a masculine job when you don’t need to,” Nick shrugged. “You know my paycheck could support us both easily … in a much nicer apartment than this dump you’re still living in.”
“You were pretty keen to get into it earlier,” she pointed out, irritated by the attack on her place. This was what he did — he needled her with insults, then acted all high and mighty when she rose to the bait and got angry. “Listen, Nick, I’ve got work in the morning, so if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to head on up to my dump of an apartment and get ready for my ‘masculine’ job. What does that even mean, by the way? Oh, never mind, I don’t care.”
And with a certain amount of satisfaction, she slammed the door to the building in his still-protesting face. For all the faults of the building, the door was pleasantly soundproof, and though she could tell he was still talking, she couldn’t hear a word he was saying as she turned and headed for the stairs.
God, between her father and Nick Cobb, this had been a full day of the universe testing her when it came to obstreperous men. Hopefully tomorrow would be better.
Chapter 4
A couple of glasses of wine helped soothe the residual irritation of Nick’s continued presence in her life. Really, she wished she’d never let him know where she lived. They’d only dated for a year or so… or was it longer than that? They’d had one of those awkward on-again off-again phases in the middle, and of course the actual process of starting the relationship had been delayed by her making detective and having to focus on work for a while.
But still — no matter which way she looked at it, he was the longest and most serious relationship of her life. What a terrible thought that was. Some sandy-haired math professor with vaguely nice green eyes. Not devastatingly handsome, not especially physically impressive (she could beat him in an arm wrestle, something she still felt smug about — though after he’d taken offense she’d faked a loss just so he’d shut up about it.) To think she’d actually thought seriously about the concept of keeping him around forever… maybe getting married one day, moving out to the suburbs, having a couple of kids…
She shuddered, taking a deep, steadying sip of the wine. Good wine was one of her few indulgences — she couldn’t afford many on her salary, not with the cost of living what it was in the city (though apparently it was worse in other parts of the state.) But wine was something she could justify. She never drank to excess (or rarely — she’d hit the beers hard if it had been a particularly stressful week and she had some steam to blow off at work drinks) but a glass or two in the evening was a treat she looked forward to all day. It was good for your heart or something, right? At any rate, she wasn’t going to sweat it. There were way worse habits to have… though she did feel a prickle of unease when she found herself fixating on her evening glass too much. She’d seen where that road led by watching her father.
Still, by the time she’d finished her glass of wine she was feeling sane again. Nick was gone — or at the very least, she didn’t have to worry about him — and though her phone had buzzed a few times, she was happy to leave it til morning. If he had the audacity to contact her, he had another think coming. She’d just deleted the messages, straight away. Easy. She rose to her feet and padded into the bathroom to get changed and take a long, hot shower before bed.
It was an odd night. For some reason, she kept dreaming of falling. It wasn’t her usual anxiety dream — those usually consisted of being late for the police exam (which she inexplicably had to take again) before realizing she’d turned up in her underwear. But this time, the dreams were just… falling. Through darkness, as though from a great height, but also with a sense of… liminality. As though she was falling through a place that wasn’t quite real, but wasn’t quite imaginary, either.
When she woke to the buzzing of her alarm, she sat up groggily, a little unnerved by the dreams. She’d never experienced anything like them. And though her mother had set some store by dreams having meaning, she’d never paid much attention to the various interpretations. Her father had always decried it, though her mother was more sanguine — after all, dreams could indicate a lot about one’s emotional state. What did it mean about her emotional state, that she’d suddenly dreamed of falling? Was it to do with Nick — did she feel like she was in freefall without him? That couldn’t be it — she’d never felt more focused on what was important. Maybe she was worried about the case, about doing a good job, about falling on her face in front of the Captain who’d trusted both her and Billy to take on such an important piece of work? That must be it, she decided, pulling her clothes on and taking a moment to check her long red hair was neatly braided.
She’d been thinking of cutting it short for such a long time, she reflected, but she knew in her heart it was never going to happen. She was too attached to it, as much as it annoyed her. Her pride and joy, her crowning glory — a fiery mane of bright red hair, just like her father’s but much, much longer. Left free it fell all the way to her butt — but she didn’t let it fall free too often. It got unmanageable pretty quickly, especially with how wavy it was. Still, she usually left a few pieces free to fall fetchingly about her face and bring a bit of light and contrast to her gray eyes. She smiled at herself in the mirror as she adjusted her hair. She looked good. It was important to look good — as much as she grated at the unreasonable amount of extra work she had to do to be considered as ‘professional’ as her male coworkers. Makeup was a plague. She was pretty sure Captain Jacques never wore it… but she wasn’t nearly as cool as Captain Jacques.
Well, not yet, anyway. There was still time. She had a few decades to develop that kind of laser-intensity. In the meantime, she’d keep up the makeup routine. At least nobody could tell how poorly she’d slept.
The walk to work was uneventful, for all that she was convinced Nick was still going to be lurking on her stoop. She remembered the plan she’d made with Billy and her stride lengthened automatically — she was so impatient to get started on the work, to check out the tenement building, start knocking on doors and gathering ground-level information. You never knew who was going to give you the piece of information that would crack a case — you could wade through hours of what felt like pointless busy-work, but that one clue would make it all worthwhile. It was part of what she loved about her job — the fact that there was always something waiting around the next corner to surprise you.
Speaking of surprises… Billy was waiting outside the precinct for her, two cups of coffee and a brown paper bag in his hand. A grin broke out across her face as he pressed one of the cups into her hand.
“Thanks, partner,” she said, meaning it — and reflecting, not for the first time, that it was an awful shame he was married. Not that she’d ever want to interfere with that in a thousand years — Mary was a better woman than anyone deserved. But Billy was just…
kind, and sweet, and genuine. And ordinary, she thought to herself with irritation, he was just an ordinary dude. There were other guys out there like Billy, she was sure of it. She probably met half a dozen every day. Then why was she never attracted to them? Why were they never her type? Why did she fall for condescending assholes like Nick?
Condescending assholes like her dad?
“You okay?” Billy looked concerned. “Your face has gone all… thundercloud.”
“Yeah,” she said, shaking her head fiercely. “Sorry. Weird night last night. I’ll tell you about it in the car. We’re on the way to the tenement?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I figured we ought to get an early start, it’s like an hour from here with traffic.”
She nodded, sliding into the passenger seat. Billy liked driving in the mornings — he may have been the only person she’d ever met who actually liked maneuvering through Baltimore traffic. Elena always got too frustrated — it was far too tempting to stick on the siren and blast through the traffic. Not that she’d ever do that. Too much of a stickler for the rules… and besides, she hated paperwork too much to willingly fill in forms about why she’d used the siren if she could avoid it.
They listened to the radio on the drive out, chatting about the case — but there wasn’t much to say. It was pretty thin on the information front, and what was there was pretty unsettling… bodies drained of blood? Billy had a vague theory about some kind of blood harvesting ring, using it for rituals — Elena privately felt like he’d been watching too much True Detective, and said so.
“Well? If I’ve been watching it, so have other people. Maybe that’s where they got the idea.”
“It’s not very likely though, is it?”
“Well, what’s your theory? Vampires?”
“Yes, Billy. I believe that vampires are real, and there’s one stalking this specific tenement block, and we’re the first human beings in history who are going to meet one, and she’s going to suck all our blood out and kill us.”
“Maybe it’s you,” Billy said, giving her a sidelong look as his eyes twinkled. “Maybe you’ve been a vampire this whole time, and you infiltrated the police force so you could throw people off the trail.”
“I do have a fondness for red wine,” she said thoughtfully, suppressing a laugh.
“Mm. You change into a clingy green dress and stalk your victims out here, don’t you? Guess we can turn the car around. Case solved. Call the Captain.”
“God, can you imagine?” She giggled, imagining Billy solemnly presenting his theory to the Captain — then straightened up in her seat, her heartbeat picking up as she realized they’d reached the tenement.
It was an old building — definitely on its way to being condemned if it hadn’t been already. Surrounded by decrepit “FOR LEASE” signs of varying ages, it had a foreboding atmosphere, cut out against the gray sky. Elena finished the last bite of the pastry Billy had brought her for breakfast, swigged at the dregs of her coffee, then got out of the car. They stared up at the building together.
“Let’s have a look around, then start the door-knocking, yeah?”
Billy nodded agreement. “Should we check the basement? That’s where they were found.”
She shivered. Sure enough, as they approached the building, it became clear that there were stairs leading down into the dark. She pulled her flashlight off her belt, not sure why she was feeling so apprehensive — after all, it wasn’t as though the crime scene was fresh. This place would’ve been swarming with investigators, police tape everywhere, lights and cameras… but right now, it felt as empty and haunted as a ghost town. She shone the light down the stairs, frowning a little at the state they were in.
“These look safe,” she said wryly, taking a step.
“Woah. Are you sure you want to go down there? If they give way it’s a pretty steep fall —”
“Nah, the squad would’ve been up and down them a hundred times. If they were going to give out they’d have given out then. I’m safe.”
“If you’re sure,” Billy said doubtfully, staying at the top to shine a light down the stairs for her. With a grateful little wave, Elena set off down the stairs, her mind already on what she was going to find at the bottom, on whether or not there’d be something there that she’d missed in all the reports. About halfway down, she felt an ominous creaking in the stairs beneath her. And before she could even cry out or turn to warn Billy — who was following her slowly — a huge chunk of the stairway crumbled beneath her and she plunged straight down into the dark.
Her last thought, crystalline with the clarity of absolute panic, was that it felt exactly like it had in her dreams the night before.
Chapter 5
When Elena was a kid, her father used to take her and her brothers camping every summer, in a spot he knew out in the countryside. There was a creek that tumbled down a hillside into a big, deep, lake, lined with trees and rocky outcroppings to dive from, and the water was always clear and cool and perfect for swimming. One year, with great ceremony, Patrick brought along a long length of rope with knots right along its length, refusing — with an air of great mystery — to say anything about what its purpose was. When they arrived, he headed up to the highest point of the lakeshore, where a huge old oak tree spread its branches against the sky. There, he tied the rope around a branch that protruded over the edge of the shore.
It didn’t take Elena and her brothers long to figure it out. You could grab the rope, run at the edge, and swing right out into the middle of the lake before letting go, so you’d soar through the air and plunge deep into the water in the middle. It was an absolutely exhilarating ride — they’d spent the whole afternoon and evening sprinting up and down the hill to repeat the trick, whooping and yelling, competing to see who could get the furthest or make the biggest splash. Elena would always remember the rush of hanging onto the rope for the whole swing, waiting for that sweet spot, almost at the top of the arc, where you still had momentum but you were starting to slow down… the best point to release the rope and go swinging off into the air with no rope to hang onto, screaming as you plummeted gracelessly into the belly of the water.
Those memories came rushing back to her as she fell now, and for a long and serious moment she wondered whether her life was flashing before her eyes. Oddly enough, she couldn’t bring herself to feel sad, or afraid — mostly she was just puzzled, and a little disappointed. She was a Baltimore cop… it seemed like she should have met a more exciting death than falling down some stairs in a tenement somehow. At least shot in a gunfight or taken out by a serial killer she was a hair’s breadth from catching… not this, falling to her death, reliving her childhood as she went.
But she didn’t relive any more of her childhood. She felt the giddy feeling of the release of the rope, saw the lake below her as she prepared to dive deep into it, seeing her skinny ten-year-old arms in front of her eyes… and then the vision shifted and blurred complete. For a moment, she could have sworn she saw light — strange, white light in strange shapes, for all the world like long, slender, humanoid figures made from light instead of flesh. But then… contact. She felt a huge shock as her whole body was suddenly plunged into icy-cold water.
Only long practice as a child stopped her from taking a deep gasp of air — she was underwater, her hair floating around her face as she blinked her eyes furiously, trying to get a sense of where she was. But it was pitch dark. Confusion warred with shock — what was going on? Was this part of the memory, part of the reliving of her childhood, still part of the near-death experience? Or — a chill ran down her back that had nothing to do with the water — was this what death felt like?
No — she was definitely still alive. Her heart was pounding in her ears like nothing else and the cold of the water was a strong and immediate reminder that her body was still sensing everything that was happening to it. So what was going on? Had the cellar of the building been full of water, somehow, that she’d managed to plunge into? Sh
e tried to think back, fighting off panic with difficulty — had it been raining since the time the bodies had been discovered? No — and besides, it shouldn’t be so dark. She twisted her head up, paddling with her limbs a little, trying to swim up toward the surface to catch a breath of air. Panic began to set in, in earnest as she realized that the more she swam, the more water she swam through. There was no sign of a surface.
This couldn’t be the lake — couldn’t be a memory. The lake hadn’t been this deep — a few easy strokes of her legs and she’d be up and out of the water, laughing with her brothers, arguing over who went the furthest and who dove the deepest. And the water, even early in the mornings when it had been chilled by the night air since sunset… the water had never been so bone-chillingly cold.
Snap out of it, Elena, she told herself roughly. It didn’t matter where she was, or what had happened. The important information was that she was still alive — for now, at least — and in the interests of making sure that stayed true, everything else would have to wait a while. The most important thing for now was getting some air. But she was disoriented, kicking her legs wildly, the dark around her deeply worrying. It was hard to tell if she was even swimming in the right direction. Which way was up? She tried to calm her pounding heart, tried to use her senses to figure it out — which way was gravity pulling her? But it was hard, really hard with the adrenaline pounding and the sickly conviction that she was running out of air faster than she was making any progress in getting more.
And then, scaring the shit out of her yet again, she felt something curl around her arm. It was as cold as the water, but much firmer, for all the world like an icy hand taking hold of her… firm, but not rough, not cruel. It was still a shock, but it didn’t scare her enough to make her scream, wasting any precious air. She stared down toward her arm in the dark, trying desperately to pierce the pitch darkness for long enough to figure out what was touching her — or who. But it was to no avail. And what was worse, the hand was starting to tug on her — she felt her arm being pulled above her head as her phantom assailant began to tug her, slowly but surely, in a direction that she hoped very much was up.
Swept By The Highlander: A Scottish Time Travel Romance-Highlander Forever Book 3 Page 3
