The foul energy rolling off him nearly made her gag. As she recoiled, he made a noise between a grunt and a moan. At least it was something. Holly grabbed the phone from the bedside table, dialing 911.
"Ambulance, please!" Holly pleaded.
The plastic receiver slipped from her sweating palm, forcing her to give it a white-knuckled grip. The dispatcher was saying something. Holly stared at Mac's prone form, chewing her lip.
"What is your address, please?" the voice on the phone repeated, the woman's tone sharp.
Holly gave directions, stammering when she tried to recall the apartment number. No, she didn't know what was wrong. Yes, she would be there to answer the door.
She was panicking. It was the horrible, cloying energy, black like tar, thick in her throat. Rot. Decay. Despair. Not a smell so much as an aura of horror. A gray tide sloshed across her vision.
She dropped the phone. I'm going to be sick.
Window. Hard to open. Lock sliding through her fingers.
The dispatcher's voice came in tinny mumbles from the dropped handset.
A blast of cold air rushed into the room. Holly braced herself against the wall, her mouth nearly touching the wire mesh of the screen. The wind seemed impossibly sweet, the room unspeakably foul.
"Oh, God."
She turned at the sound of the wet, rasping voice. The fresh air must have revived Macmillan, too. He was trying to sit up, but every limb shook until the bed itself rattled. He angled his face to her, the whites of his eyes wide with terror. "What's happening to me?"
Holly shook her head. "I don't know." The confession brought a sting to her eyes. I failed him. I should be able to help, but how? Tears slipped out, hot with guilt.
"You said I was okay." The words came out like a cry from the heart.
"I couldn't find anything. Honestly. I've never seen this before."
"No." He was on his side now, his legs curling into his chest. His breath was coming in jerks, as if each would gag him with the effort. "No, it can't be. OK God, it hurts."
He stopped speaking, his eyes squeezed tight. His mouth opened in a soundless scream as fresh rivulets of sweat ran down his cheeks, soaking the pillowcase. Warped power rolled off him in waves, as if his very soul were vibrating out of phase.
Holly's gorge rose, but she fought it back, steeling herself for his sake. She fell to her knees beside the bed. "The ambulance is coming. They'll help. They'll make it right." They
won't have a clue what to do, but they may keep him alive long enough for me to find an answer.
"Don't leave me," he said, gripping her hand so hard that it cramped.
"I won't," she said.
"Holly, I'm losing myself."
Chapter 15
"Damn you, Pierce, you killed it!" Alessandro folded his arms and looked down at the changeling, disgust welling. Disgust at Pierce's clumsy job of questioning. Disgust at the sight of the grease spot where the creature's body had melted into the carpet.
"It was an accident," Pierce protested.
Omara stood a few feet away, her expression that of an irritated schoolteacher. She was still dressed in the pantsuit she had worn earlier, reminding Alessandro of a carnivorous Emma Peel. They were in one of the hotel's plush conference rooms, the mahogany furniture pushed against the wall. Two of Omara's security vamps stood either side of the double doors, arms folded.
"You could have waited for me," Alessandro growled at Pierce. "Interrogation is my job. I know how to do it properly."
"You always get to question the prisoners."
"Apparently I'm better at it."
Omara cut in. "Boys, I'm glad you're both in touch with your respective inner children, but skip the tantrums."
Her jibe did nothing to improve the atmosphere. Why did she let Pierce screw this up? When I left, she was angry with
him for feeding from the human woman in public. Now she is letting him serve her? Letting him do my job?
Alessandro rounded on Pierce. "The changeling was the best lead we had, and now it's gone. Did you kill it to cover your tracks?"
"What?" Pierce gave him a what-the-hell look. "You think I'm in league with changelings? Why?"
Omara inspected her rings, tilting her hand so the gems glittered in the light from the overhead chandeliers. Their divisive squabble seemed to please her. It certainly gave her the position of power. "Alessandro is determined to think the worst of you. It's the sad effect of centuries of bad behavior, darling. People start to judge." Omara snapped her fingers, bringing the security vamps to attention. "We're done here. Tell the concierge to clean up."
Alessandro swore in lusty, antique Italian. He had left Holly for nothing. Right now she was enjoying a meal with Macmillan, having a pleasurable bonding experience he could never offer her. In so many ways the detective outmatched him.
He wrenched his thoughts back to the mess in front of him.
"Where did you find the changeling?" he asked.
Pierce replied. "University Laundromat. One of the local werewolves phoned in the sighting as a courtesy."
Alessandro furrowed his brow. "The changeling was doing laundry?"
"No, but it was eating someone who was. The werewolves pulled it off the student and held it until we got there. The changeling was pretty, um, subdued by then. I think the wolves were enjoying themselves a bit too much."
Lovely. "Did you manage to get any good information before you turned him to sludge?"
Pierce shrugged. "He was too afraid to talk."
It was all Alessandro could do not to bang his head—or Pierce's—on the wall. "We. Are. Vampires. We make the prisoners afraid. Us."
Pierce's eyes narrowed. "Whatever master it served was worse."
The demon. Demons were the only creatures more feared than vampires. Despite losing a suspect, Alessandro felt a flutter of satisfaction. His emerging theories were holding up.
Omara cut in. "The changeling's name was Arnault, and there are others of his kind in Fairview. That was all we learned."
Alessandro frowned. "What about these others? The police looked for more changelings. We looked as well. None were found."
The queen shrugged. "Obviously there are hiding places we missed."
I should have gone with them on the search, Alessandro thought, but he had been watching over Holly. There had been the demon mouse. He couldn't be everywhere at once.
Then he looked at the splotch on the floor where the changeling had melted. I should have done the questioning.
Frustration chewed at his gut. He had to work harder. Faster.
Just then the double doors to the conference room opened, and the janitor with his cleaning cart entered, followed by Omara's security men. One vampire carried a Shop-Vac.
"I'm done for the evening, gentlemen," Omara said to her security. "Finish up here, and then you're free for the night." She turned to Pierce. "You can go, too. I think you've done enough damage for one evening."
The last remark was icy cold. Pierce's eyes flared, anger and shame in competition.
Omara touched Alessandro's sleeve. "Let's go upstairs."
She led the way out of the room, crossing the lobby to the elevators. Pierce was left standing alone next to the stain on the carpet.
"Did the changeling say how many others there are?" Alessandro asked. Surely they got something useful out of the discussion? Omara did not get to be queen without knowledge of how these interviews are done.
"No, though it sounded like quite a few." The elevator doors opened and they got in. Omara pushed the button for the top floor, where she was staying. The doors slid closed.