Blood of Eden (24 page)

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Authors: Tami Dane

BOOK: Blood of Eden
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JT moseyed up behind me, and the two men had what looked like a stare-down. They reminded me of two snarling dogs.
“Sloan, where are your napkins?” Mom called from the kitchen.
I sidestepped out from between the two men and went to her aid, figuring they'd work out their differences better without me being in the middle of things. It seemed I was right. By the time I'd located a few rumpled napkins, they were strolling toward us, looking a little friendlier. At least they weren't about to rip each other to shreds.
For now.
I dished out the pizza and we all found a spot in the living room to eat. I sat on the couch, wedged between JT and Gabe, my ass pinned between theirs. It might've been cozy if it hadn't been so awkward.
Mom sat in the chair, happily munching away, as if she hadn't a care in the world. “How have you been, Gabe? I haven't seen you in ages, since you dumped Sloan... . Gosh, how long ago was that?”
“We were in high school,” Gabe said. “But I didn't dump her. Sloan broke up with me.”
Liar.
“It's ancient history, Mom,” I said. “Doesn't matter anymore who broke up with whom.”
“Yes, that's true. Especially now that you're dating JT.” Mom beamed at JT.
I felt Gabe's leg stiffen against mine.
“I'm not dating JT, Mom. It's against bureau policy. And even if it wasn't, I'm only an intern. It wouldn't look good for me to be sleeping with one of my superiors.” I didn't bother telling my mother that I'd been put on medical leave and wouldn't be returning to the bureau, anyway. That was a conversation for later.
Gabe's leg relaxed.
Mom frowned. “Oh, that's too bad. I really like JT. He reminds me of your father. Intelligent. Good-looking.”
I glanced at JT. His face was the shade of a beet. The color looked good on him. Was there anything that didn't?
“Thank you, Mrs. Skye,” JT said. “I like your daughter very much. But I also respect her. And I wouldn't wish to harm her career. She's an intelligent, capable woman, brave and committed, and the bureau would be fortunate to have her as a permanent member someday.”
I wondered how much he knew about my diagnosis and its effect on my career. I set my plate on the coffee table, next to my cup.
“You're not eating,” JT murmured.
“My appetite isn't quite normal yet.”
“So, Gabe, what have you been up to since you dumped my daughter?” Mom asked.
Gabe set his empty plate next to my full one. He swiped my untouched slice of pizza and took a bite. “Well, I've been going to school... .”
“I need to talk to you,” JT whispered in my ear as Gabe and Mom chatted. “Alone.”
I motioned to Mom and Gabe. “That's going to be a bit tough right now. Can't it wait?”
“ No.”
My gaze ping-ponged back and forth between Mom and Gabe. They seemed to be fairly involved at the moment, engaged in a discussion of quantum gravity.
“Okay,” I whispered. “But let's try not to make it too obvious.” I stood, scooped my plate, and headed toward the kitchen. “Excuse me for just a minute. My stomach's been acting up.” I winked at JT. “I need to go lie down for a few.”
Mom gave me a look, then went right back to her conversation with Gabe. I headed into my room and flung myself onto the bed. A few minutes later, I heard JT excuse himself to use the bathroom. Seconds afterward, we were in my room, the door closed.
“So ... ?” I said, sitting up and hanging my feet over the edge of the bed.
“First, I need to ask you not to share our conversation with anyone, not even your mother.”
“Okay.” Why did I feel like I was about to be blindsided? I mentally braced myself.
JT sat beside me. “You need to stop taking the medication you were prescribed immediately.”
Oh, thank God.
“I do? Why?”
“Because you don't need it.”
Thank God ... wait. Does that mean ... ?
“What do you mean, I ‘don't need it'?”
JT put a hand on my knee. “Sloan, you're not schizophrenic.”
At this point, I would have rather believed I was. The alternative was much too ugly to face. “But—”
JT nodded. “I know what the doctor told you. She based her diagnosis on the information the bureau gave her.”
The bureau?
“And ... ?”
“It wasn't exactly accurate.”
“I'm not schizophrenic.” I hiccupped or sobbed. Or something.
Not schizophrenic.
“Oh, God.”
“No, you're not.”
I was happy and terrified, both. “That means the attack wasn't a hallucination.” My gaze sailed across the room, landing on the marked wall. I swallowed a lump in my throat the size of Mt. Everest.
“No, it wasn't.” JT's gaze followed mine.
“I'm confused. Why did you tell my doctor it was, then?”
JT went to inspect the wall closer. “I didn't. Chief Peyton did. Actually, what she did was show the doctor a section of the surveillance tape. She couldn't risk our case getting out. She'd rather see you temporarily misdiagnosed than have people panicking, running around telling the media that vampires are real.”
I wanted to stand up and march over to him, but I didn't trust my legs at the moment. They were a little mushy. “I don't understand. If the doctor saw the tape, why wouldn't she know I wasn't hallucinating?”
“Because the being that attacked you doesn't record with standard video equipment.” JT traced the
b
with his index finger. “Neither its image nor its voice was captured on the tape. We picked it up with infrared, which is why we know you weren't hallucinating.”
I was stunned. Relieved. And terrified. I wasn't insane. At least, not yet. That was the best news I'd heard in ages.
But something was out there, something I didn't understand. And it wanted something from me.
JT turned his back to the wall, facing me. “The chief thought, after all of this, you'd like to take a couple of days for yourself.”
“But what about our case? Have there been any more deaths? And what about my blood tests? Was I injected with some kind of infectious agent? And the thing that attacked me—”
JT chuckled. “One at a time.” He strolled over to me and laid his hands on mine. “You tested negative for all tropical infectious diseases known to exist. No worries there. And as far as your attacker, we don't believe it's the unsub. You will be under surveillance, twenty-four–seven, until it's caught.”
“It came back. Last night.” I pointed at the wall. “It did that.” We both went over to it this time. I stood behind him, almost afraid to get too close, now that I knew for certain it had been made by a monster. “It said I did something, tried to escape from my obligation. I thought it was a hallucination, so I didn't take it seriously. But now ... you see what that says.”
“We'll be ready for it.”
I shivered. “How can you be ready for something you can't see? Or hear?” I wrapped my arms around myself. An icy draft caressed my nape. I whirled around. Nothing was behind me. “I'm going to be chasing shadows,” I mumbled.
“I won't let anything happen to you.” JT gathered me into his arms, and I relaxed against him. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the scent of him as it teased my nostrils. His heat seemed to seep into my pores and radiate through my body.
This felt so right, so good, being held by JT. He made me feel safe, even from invisible creatures. Safe and cherished and special. A big part of me wanted to say to hell with the stupid FBI and all its rules, and let this thing between us take its natural course. There were a million other things I could do with my life than chase bad guys and play with guns.
But then the image of Tutu Girl played through my mind.
I'm no quitter. I've been preparing for this job my entire life. The good I might do is far more important than some silly romance that probably won't last.
“What's happened with our case the past few days?” I asked.
Recognizing the tone of my voice, JT released me, backing up a step. “There's been another death. The unsub is back to killing. We don't know why she stopped for a while, but we're going to figure it out.”
“I want to get back to work.”
“I don't think it's safe, not now.” JT grabbed my shoulders. His grip was tight. His gaze was dark, full of desperation.
“The thing chasing me isn't going to stop, whether I'm working or not.”
My bedroom door swung open.
JT and I jerked away from each other; then we looked to see who had caught us.
Gabe's expression was as dark as JT's had been moments ago. “You asshole,” Gabe grumbled.
JT visibly tensed. “We're having a private conversation. Get lost.”
“Like hell I will.” Gabe marched into my bedroom, grabbed my arm, and practically dragged me away from JT.
I wound up and smacked Gabe. “Get your hands off me.”
“You don't want to know what people are saying.” Gabe jabbed a finger at JT. “And it's his fault.”
“What are they saying?” I asked JT.
JT fumed for a moment, then charged out of the room.
I wound up to smack Gabe again, but I didn't follow through.
“I'm telling the truth,” Gabe said, softer this time.
“What are you talking about?”
“JT told some of the guys down in the BAU that he's sleeping with you.”
I plopped on my bed. “What? He wouldn't.”
“He did.”
“But we're not.”
“I guessed as much.” Gabe sat beside me.
“Not yet.”
“Why would he lie?” I asked him.
“Why do a lot of guys lie? To make himself look good.”
I don't know if it was hopeful thinking, or being stupid and gullible, but I didn't believe JT had told anyone we were sleeping together. I stared down at the floor and did some soul-searching. “I don't know... .”
Gabe set his hand upon mine. “You gotta watch these people. They aren't all that they appear.”
“What's that mean?”
Mom stormed into the room. “What's going on in here? That friend of yours, JT, just ran out of the apartment like his ass was on fire. And I think there's something wrong with your roommate, Sloan. She's in the kitchen. Come and see.”
Knowledge is of no value unless you put it into practice.
—Anton Chekhov
21
Mom was right. There was something wrong with Katie. She was covered in something red and wet and slimy. Katie stood in the kitchen, dripping. A pool of red ooze was collecting under her.
But that wasn't the weird part.
It was her eyes. They were locked on the far wall, the pupils pinpoints. She was trembling, her lips almost pure white. And she didn't respond when I called her name, poked her arm, or shook her.
This isn't depression.
It was time to get her to a hospital.
I tried pulling her toward the door. She didn't budge.
I looked at Gabe. Gabe glanced down at his designer sweater and jeans, scooped the dripping, shaking Katie into his arms, and hauled her to my car. He drove—I was still a little groggy from those stupid pills. I tried to get Katie to say something.
She didn't.
I soon found myself in familiar territory, in the hospital emergency room. I could tell some of the staff recognized me. They gave me a wide berth. Fortunately, it didn't impact Katie's care. She had a nurse and doctor at her bedside within minutes. The nurse checked her blood pressure and heart rate, while the doctor asked Gabe what had happened. I took care of the business end of things, giving Katie's insurance information to the lady from registration.
Mom dashed in just as we were finishing up. “How is she?”
I shoved Katie's insurance card and driver's license into my purse. “We don't know yet. They took her back to a room. Gabe went with her to answer questions. What happened?”
Mom shrugged. “One minute, I was alone, and the next, she was standing there, just like you found her.”
I motioned toward some nearby chairs in the waiting room. “My life has turned into an episode of
Lost.
” At Mom's nod, I claimed a seat facing the registration desk. “It's going from weird to weirder.”
Mom sat next to me. “I'm sure she'll be okay.”
“She hasn't been herself for a while. I've been a little worried about her. But things have been so crazy, I haven't had any time to think about what it could be.”
“You've had a lot to deal with lately.”
I hugged my purse to my chest. “She either sleeps day and night, or wanders around, sleepless. And then there's her room. She's always been such a neat freak, and now it looks like a feature on
Hoarders.
She's been super irritable too. I thought it might be depression. I didn't do anything. I just left her alone and pretended nothing was wrong.” I dropped my face into my hands. “I feel like I've let her down.”
Mom wrapped an arm around my shoulders and gave them a gentle squeeze. “You haven't. You're here now.”
“But maybe if I'd done something sooner, we wouldn't be here now. It wouldn't have gotten this bad.”
“Do
what,
Sloan?” Mom asked.
“I don't know. Get her to see another doctor?”
“You can't make someone do something they don't want to do.”
“I know.”
Mom gave me another motherly squeeze. “You've had a rough few days. I think you need some rest.”
That statement only reminded me that I could have an unwelcome nocturnal visitor tonight. And now that JT had stormed off, I had no idea who, if anyone, would be keeping a watch out for it.
“Sleep is highly overrated.” I turned to Mom. “Anyway, we didn't get to finish our conversation. About Dad? What makes you think he's still alive?”
“This.” Mom dug into her purse and pulled out a daisy, dried between two sheets of acid-free paper.
“Mom ...” It was hardly proof that a man who'd been believed to be dead for decades was still alive.
“I know what you're thinking. Daisies are everywhere. But here's the thing. Your father and I met at a park, and I made him a daisy crown. I wore one in my hair on my wedding day.”
So far, I wasn't seeing the significance. “Yes, and ... ?”
“Nobody knew this about us, but we made a promise to each other on our wedding night that we would always be together. Actually, your father made this promise to me. I thought it was strange at the time, but it was important to him, so I listened.”
Still, nothing. “Okay.”
“He said, if we were ever separated, by anything or anyone, he'd find a way to let me know he was okay. He'd send me ... a dried daisy.”
Now I got it. “You swear nobody else knew?” I asked.
“No one.”
“Okay.” I sat back and took stock of the situation. It was an odd coincidence. And there was a sense of believability to the story. And yet, I had my doubts. “Where did you find the flower?”
“On my nightstand. It wasn't there when I went to bed.”
I inspected the flower closer. It was fragile. I couldn't tell how long it had been preserved. “Did you save any of the flowers from your wedding?”
“Yes, of course, I did. I saved every single one from my bouquet. They're safe and sound in my old copy of
The Catcher in the Rye.
”
“Maybe you'd better check and see if one's missing.”
“Do you suppose someone broke into my apartment, took one of my flowers out of the book, and put it on my nightstand? Why would anyone do such a thing?”
“I don't know, Mom. But before you start believing Dad's alive, it's a good idea to double-check.”
She shrugged. “I guess you're right.”
“You'll tell me what you find?”
“You'll be the first to know.” Mom stood. “If there's nothing else I can do, I think I'd like to go home.”
“It's okay. Go home. Get some rest. I'll let you know when we get out of here.”
Mom and I exchanged a hug—which used to be very rare. I don't know if it was the mental illness or something else, but Mom had never tolerated people touching her. It was a wonder she'd ever conceived a child. Lately that seemed to be changing.
Minutes after Mom left, Gabe ambled into the waiting room and flopped into a chair next to me.
“How's Katie?” I asked.
“The red stuff was some kind of paint. Evidently, she bathed in it.”
“Bathed in paint? That's not something a girl does on a regular basis.”
“Yeah. She couldn't say why either.” Gabe snatched a copy of
Good Housekeeping
off the table next to him and started thumbing through the pages. “I left when the doctor came in, so I don't know what's going on. Before I came down here, though, I checked with the nurses' station. The doctor ordered some tests. She'll be here awhile, at least a few hours. Are you going to wait?”
“I don't know. I guess I will.”
“I'll stay with you.”
“That isn't necessary.”
“It's okay. I don't mind.” He leaned closer. “Maybe now you can tell me what's up with the DNA analysis?”
“Oh. Sure,” I whispered. I glanced around. A pair of elderly men sat huddled in one corner of the room. And a woman was cradling a small sleeping child in another. None of the people seemed interested in what we were talking about. “The sample contains insect DNA. They're running further tests to try to identify which species. JT thought the unsub might—”
“JT knows about the sample?” Gabe said a little too loudly.
I stiffened and checked the men. They were still doing their own thing, but the woman was looking our way now. I held an index finger to my lips, warning him to keep his voice low. “JT was the one who found someone to run the test.”
A little muscle along Gabe's jaw pulsed. “Did you tell him where you got the sample?”
“No. What's your problem with him, anyway? I've never seen you treat anyone so harshly—except for me, of course.”
“I told you, I don't trust him. I haven't trusted him since I joined the PBAU. And I trust him even less now, after what he did to you. By the way, you don't seem to be very upset about that.”
“I'm upset. Especially since what he told them isn't true. We haven't slept together. Hell, we haven't even kissed.”
Hardly kissed.
“But I'm having a hard time believing he's going around telling people lies. I don't see him being that kind of guy, for one. And secondly, that would put his job in jeopardy too.”
Gabe didn't look convinced. “You haven't known him for long. Maybe you don't know him at all.”
“True, but it's obvious he cares about his job. I can tell that already.”
Gabe's mouth thinned. “Whatever. Anyway, what do you think the test means?”
“I'm guessing the sample was tainted with insect DNA. Maybe the victim swatted a mosquito?”
“Yeah, maybe.” Gabe looked doubtful.
“You disagree?”
Gabe shrugged. “I don't know. I've been doing some reading, and ... you're going to think I'm crazy... .”
“
I'm
going to think
you're
crazy? Gabe, did you know I was prescribed antipsychotic drugs for hallucinations?”
Gabe's eyes widened. “What?”
“Yeah. The doctor decided I was hallucinating, diagnosed schizophrenia, and drugged me up.”
“No shit.” He gave me an appraising look, like he half expected to see something had changed since I'd been diagnosed. “I'd heard you were attacked, not that you'd had some kind of breakdown.”
“I
was
attacked. The problem is, when the doctor saw the video recording of the attack, there was no attacker.”
“Huh?”
“I'm not schizophrenic.”
“Yeah.”
“I was attacked by something ... unnatural. Something that isn't captured with regular video-recording equipment.”
Gabe didn't respond right away. “So the doctor saw you freaking out about something that wasn't there?”
“Exactly.”
“Then it's true,” Gabe whispered.
“What?”
“Monsters really do exist.”
“Are you making fun of me?”
“Hell no.” He
was
serious.
“I can't say if ‘monsters' exist, but I can tell you this. There are things out there that we don't understand. Strange, dangerous things.”
“Maybe you should dig out your dad's old papers?” Gabe suggested.
“Yeah, maybe I should.” I leaned back in my chair, stretching my legs out in front of me, and let my head rest against the wall.
Sometime later, Gabe nudged me awake. I opened my eyes to find I'd flopped over and was using his shoulder as a pillow. I apologized and straightened up, blinking bleary eyes to try to clear them.
“Katie's being discharged. Are you ready to go?”
“Yeah.” I pushed to my feet and shuffled after Gabe, who was leading the way. Katie met us at the door. She still had red paint in her hair, and in her eyebrows. All around her fingernails were stained crimson. “How are you feeling?”
“No better. I told the doctors something is wrong with me, but they didn't find anything.” She visibly sighed. “I feel like my brain is short-circuiting. My hands and feet are numb. And sometimes I have this awful itchy-crawly sensation under my skin.” A tear slipped from the corner of Katie's eye. She dragged her hand across her face, smearing it. The slightest tint of red stained her cheek.
I was petrified for her.
Numbness. Itching. Now, those were physical symptoms. Vague and unspecific, but still physical. “We'll take you to a doctor,” I promised. “We'll find one that can figure it out. The numb sensation in your hands and feet ... I wonder about that.” I put my arm around Katie's shoulder and walked her out to the car. Gabe drove us home and parked my car. After making sure we got into our building safely, he headed home.
Katie went straight to bed.
Now I was alone. I was scared. All I could think about was Mr. Stinky's awful face. And that terrible voice. When I closed my eyes, I could almost hear him. A little scratch, the soft pad of footsteps, the creak of a door.
There was no way I was going to sleep tonight.
Recalling the conversation I'd had with Gabe, I snatched my keys and headed down to our building's basement. Each apartment had a small storage locker down there. Somewhere, in the mountain of boxes I'd shoved into the six-by-six-by-seven space, was a small box with my dad's notes and papers. I unlocked the metal gate and opened the locker. My eyes traveled up, up, and up the stack of tightly packed boxes. This was going to take a while. And I was tired. But it was better than going upstairs, falling asleep, and being woken by that ...
thing.

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