“Very good,” he breathed, and released her, finger by finger. Selene stared up into the lightless pools of his eyes. A kind of stunned calm slipped down over her body. Nikolai’s eyes were so dark. So endlessly dark.
When he spoke next, it was in something approximating a normal voice. “I am sorry, Selene. I will help you, however I can.”
Christ, does he have to sound like he means it? Any help from you is help I can do without, Nikolai. “Leave me alone.” Her lips were too numb to work properly. “If you won’t let me see, just leave me alone.”
“You do not want to see. It is…disturbing. Now come.”
The metal box of the pay phone gleamed dully under the fluorescents. A four-year-old phone book scarred with permanent marker, dangled from a rust-pitted chain. Someone had tagged the plastic hood at the top of the box—an out-of-date gang sign, a phone number, a caricature of a donkey, other symbols much less pleasant. Selene picked up the receiver in nerveless fingers, staring at the graffiti-covered plastic.
“I suspect you will want to call your police friend first.” Nikolai produced two quarters with a flick of his fingers, dropped them in. Selene’s eyes burned dryly, the numbers on the square silver buttons blurring. Nikolai even dialed, his signet ring flashing dully, blood on gold. Somewhere in the numbness a thought surfaced. How does Nikolai know Jack’s number?
The phone rang four times. “Urmph.”
Selene couldn’t get the words past the dust in her throat. Nikolai bumped against her, sending a rush of fire through her veins, kick-starting her brain. “Maureen?” she whispered, her voice coming from a deep screaming well of panic. “It’s Selene Thompson. I need to talk to Jack. Now.”
“What the…” Maureen’s tone changed suddenly. Mother to the world, that was Maureen. She’d cooked Selene dinner more than once, during the cases Jack needed paranormal help on. “Sweetheart, are you okay? Jack, wake up.”
Selene’s knees nearly buckled, a moan bubbling up. The vision of the hacked and shattered door rose up in front of her. Dear God what happened to his door…Danny…
Nikolai’s fingers slid under her ponytail, fever-hot. Fire spread from her nape, a deluge of sensation pooling in her belly. She hated the feeling, hated him, but the Power would help her. She was going into shock. Years of training kicked in, turning the desire into Power, shocking her back in control, her mind adding, subtracting, calculating. What happened? He hasn’t left here in five years. What went wrong?
Danny was a Journeyman, an adept at etheric and astral travel. He didn’t need to leave his apartment, and anyway couldn’t bear to be away from the safety of the wards and defenses Selene erected around his three-room world. Nothing touched him inside his magickal cocoon, no thoughts or emotions that might compromise his body when he projected. Time had strengthened Danny’s gifts, making him more sensitive to random buffetings, but also more sensitive to Selene’s defenses and powers. He couldn’t be with her all the time, so an apartment of his own with heavy shielding was the best—
She stiffened. The wards! They were a part of Danny now; he had taken over maintaining them since Selene had other problems. But they were originally her wards and would answer her call.
And they would have recorded what went on inside Danny’s walls.
“Jack here.” Detective Jack Pepper’s cigarette-rough voice came over the line. “What the hell?”
Her voice almost refused to work. “It’s Selene. Something’s killed Danny. Jack, Nikolai’s here.” I sound like I’m twelve years old again. And scared. I sound so scared.
Selene heard Jack breathing. “Jesus, why is he there? Forget it; I don’t want to know. Hang up and call 911. You got it?” The sound of cloth against cloth filtered through the phone. Jack was sitting up. Maureen’s whispered questions, then…silence.
“I…He c-c-called me. Said he was c-c-cold and something about danger.” Autopilot pushed the words out, she listened to her own ragged gasping breath. Danny, oh God. Danny. Jesus Christ…
“Selene, put Nikolai on the phone, honey. Now.” Jack was fully awake. A click and a flare of a lighter, deep indrawn breath. It must be bad if he’s smoking in bed, Maureen won’t like that.
She handed the phone to Nikolai. He slid closer, pressing her into the phone booth, his fingers kneading heat into her neck.
I wonder what a gun would do to him? The thought surfaced, she pushed it hastily away. She wasn’t sure if he could hear it; Nichtvren were psychic as well as physical predators. If he heard her, what would he do?
“Yes?” Nikolai paused. “Bad enough…No, not human…I did not. Nor did she. The door is shattered. She will of course not enter the apartment.” Selene strained to listen. “Of course. I will stay out of sight. I would not want to cause trouble for my Selene.”
Her neck muscles burned. My Selene? Oh, boy. We’re going to have to have a talk about that, suckhead.
Selene’s mind skittered sideways. Danny. The door. What happened? Nikolai brushed his thumb over her nape. Lightning shot down her spine and burst in the pit of her stomach. Oh, God.
“I will.” Nikolai reached over her shoulder again, hung up. He gently turned her to face him, Selene didn’t resist. Her head was full of a rushing, roaring noise, his voice came from very far away. “You must call the emergency services, Selene. You received a call from your brother. It was interrupted and you came to see if he was well. You noticed the door had been forced and decided to call 911. Do you understand?”
She stared up at him, his face suddenly oddly foreign. He looked more like a stranger than ever. Selene took a deep shuddering breath, fury crystallizing under the surface of her mind. “Why are you doing this, Nikolai? One dead human, more or less.”
His fingers tightened. “One dead human under my protection, dear one. Whatever killed him is very dangerous. Now you will call the emergency services and you will be a very good girl for me.” He touched his lips to her forehead, a gentle kiss that made her body burn, fire spilling through her veins. How can I even think about that when Danny’s upstairs?
Hot acid guilt rose in the back of her throat. I should have gone in there, I should have seen.
Her eyes filled with tears. “I hate you,” she whispered, looking up into Nikolai’s dark eyes. “I hate you.”
“Call them.” The corner of his mouth quirked up, as if he found her amusing.
She turned back to the phone and blindly picked up the receiver. Punched the nine, the one, the one. A deep breath. Nikolai moved away suddenly, and she swayed, grabbing the metal edge of the booth to steady herself. One ring. Two. Three. Four. Five.
“911, what are you reporting?” A passionless, professional voice, possibly female.
For one awful moment Selene couldn’t remember who she was or what she was doing. The metal bit into her fingers. Blood pounded in her ears and the hallway swirled beneath her. “My-my brother. He c-c-called me. I c-c-came to his apartment and the d-d-door is b-b-roken and I’m afraid t-t-to go inside.”
How strange, she thought from inside the glass ball of hysterical calm descending upon her. I sound like I’m scared to death. It was her voice giving information, stammering out the story to the operator. Danny never left his apartment. The door was broken. She was afraid. Tiny diamond mice fleeing the huge black wolf running around in her brain made her voice jittery, made her hands tremble.
She glanced over her shoulder. The empty foyer glared under the fluorescents. There was no sign of Bruce or of Nikolai, though the medallion throbbed a heated beat between her breasts. A heartbeat. His heartbeat?