Species (35 page)

“A commercial made you think this?” Press looked nonplussed.

“It was something about hair dye. You know the hype—blond today, brunette tomorrow, that stuff. The thing is, I thought I saw a woman in the bar who looked familiar, and I remember seeing Dr. Arden offer her a drink.”

“Did she take it?” Laura demanded. She looked completely alert now, already moving to find her regular clothes. “Did she talk to him?”

Dan shook his head, then had to step partway into the room to be heard because both Laura and Press were going for their things. While Press shoved his feet into his shoes, Laura scooped a pair of jeans and a white shirt from an upholstered chair and hurried to the bathroom. “No, not then. She ignored him. But that was a while ago, and the commercial got me so upset that I went to Dr. Arden’s room. There was somebody in there with him.”

Press looked up sharply from the task of lacing a black-and-army-green pair of running shoes. “Did you knock?”

“No.” Dan twisted his fingers together nervously. “I was too scared. There was a lot of noise—you could hear it, hear
them,
doing . . . you know.” He looked terrified. “I’m telling you, Press. I think he’s with Sil and he just doesn’t know it.”

Laura came out of the bathroom, a pair of Nikes in her hand. “Did they sound like they were having sex?” Her face was white.

Dan nodded and Press snatched up the telephone. “Give me Xavier Fitch’s room,” he barked into the receiver while yanking the SIG-Sauer’s holster over his arm. “And keep it ringing until he picks it up!” He glanced at Laura.

“I’m ready,” she said simply.

He started to say something to her and Dan, then turned his attention to the phone instead. “Fitch,” he snapped, “Sil is alive. Get down to Arden’s room on the ninth floor,
now.”

He didn’t bother to say good-bye.

“T
hat was fabulous, Nicole,” Stephen whispered in her ear. “I enjoyed it immensely. How about you?”

Sil was on her side, her mate’s hard body curled behind hers spoon fashion. One of his arms supported his dark head on a pillow and the other had slipped around her waist to hug her to him. “Mmm,” was all she needed as a response, and she could tell by the way he hugged her that he understood. She’d thought it was incredible—the mating, the desire, the orgasm,
Stephen.
Everything she’d dreamed of and beyond—so far, the pinnacle of her short life.

Sil slipped out of his grasp and rolled over. She had so much to tell him that she didn’t know where to start. Stephen smiled when she faced him, his eyes so dark and sultry and mirroring all the wonderful emotions raging inside her. How to start?

With something truly magnificent, of course.

“W
hat the hell is this all about, Lennox?” Dr. Fitch growled. “Your overworked imagination again?” Fitch’s close-cropped hair was mashed flat on one side, evidence that he’d already been in bed. He was awake enough but he’d never looked as disheveled as he did now.

“It me, Dr. Fitch,” Dan offered. “I’m the one who got everybody together.”

Fitch looked around. “Where’s Arden? Inside?”

“Yeah.” Press’s mouth was a grim slash. “And Dan seems to think he’s got your little creature in there with him but doesn’t know it.”

“What!”

“I think she dyed her hair, Dr. Fitch.” Dan’s voice was urgent. “Plus, I’m sure Stephen was trying to talk to her in the bar when he didn’t realize who it was—”

“And now he won’t answer,” Laura finished for him.

“Break the damned thing down,” Fitch ordered. “If that doesn’t work, then shoot the lock. Just get it open.”

“Christ,” Press said. Inspecting the door, he backed up as far as he could, until he bumped into the wall behind him. “Dan, I hope to hell you haven’t got this wrong.”

“D
on’t answer it,” Sil murmured. “I have something wonderful to tell you.” The hammering on the door came again, and this time she thought she heard Press’s voice calling out.

“I really should answer him,” Stephen said. “It could be important.”

“I felt it, you know.” She looked at him with wide-eyed marvel.

“Felt what?”

Sil looked away, feeling dreamy and drowsy, like she could sleep for a week if she could just find a safe place to do it. “It’s started.”

“What’s started?” Baffled by her words, Stephen had temporarily forgotten about the knocking at the door.

The corners of her mouth turned up in a small, sweet smile. “Life,” she whispered, and pointed to the sleek, fair skin of her belly. “In here.”

Stephen gave her an affectionate glance and reached to caress her face, his gentle hands running down her jawline to her neck, and beyond. “Darling,” he said indulgently, “there are many cultures in which the women claim they know the exact moment of conception, but it’s basically only superstition. The likelihood of this happening the first time we met and made love . . . well, it’s—”

“You don’t believe me,” Sil said indignantly. He opened his mouth to reply but she touched a finger to his lips to stop him. “Then feel for yourself.” She took his hand and pressed it flat against her abdomen.

His hand looked large and rough across the concave span of her stomach, but his tolerant expression disappeared when something pulsed beneath his fingers. A second later the movement came again, and this time the surface of the skin visibly rippled as the life growing within her began to swell enough to expand the walls of her abdomen. Stephen yanked his hand away and his throat worked as he tried to speak. The best he could choke out was “Holy
shit!”
as he scrambled off the bed and as far away from her as he could get. “What
are
you—oh no, oh my
God!”
Standing at the side of the bed, he took a couple of jerky steps backward as he stared at her with eyes bulging with recognition.

Something crashed into the hallway door, startling them both. Sil was off the bed in an instant, her lips pulling back over her teeth in fear. Lennox was trying to kick in the door; so far it held, but it wouldn’t the next time. Disappointed by Stephen’s reaction and rejection, trapped in this room with no avenue of escape, she felt her human countenance slip away and dissipate entirely. The feeling was almost like falling and she went with it, relishing the split second of free-fall as her flesh and bone structure instantaneously re-formed, the surge of raw power that felt much more natural than the previous fragile camouflage of humanity. Stephen began to scream and Sil swung to face him, irritated at the harsh, repetitive noise; it only took a flick of her long, beautiful tentacles to end it for eternity.

The door to Stephen’s room gave way as it was struck again, and Press Lennox and his comrades spilled through. Press led the way, fighting to regain his balance after the assault on the door, the rest tumbling over each other at his back. Before they could compose themselves, Sil drew herself up to her full height and shrieked at them, her voice loud and high enough to make their hands automatically slap over their ears and make their eyes water. She would not endanger her unborn offspring by plowing through them physically—there was too much danger that one of their weapons might accidentally find its mark. She chose the closet instead, not caring that the entire group saw her dive into the small, dark space.

And, laughing in her piercing, alien voice, she burst through its far wall into the outside hallway and fled . . .

To freedom.

40

“D
on’t bother checking,” Laura said. Her mouth twisted. “He’s dead.” Fitch turned away with a sick sound and left Dan, standing there with his hands over his mouth.

“Come on, Laura. We’ve got to stop that thing.” Press grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away from the twisted, bloody thing that had been Stephen Arden only a minute before. As they raced down the hallway they saw Sil far ahead, her oversized body skidding on the loose carpet runner as she turned into the fire stairwell. “We’re heading to the basement,” he yelled over his shoulder to Fitch and Dan. “You guys get in the stairwell and drive her all the way down. The fire door should trap her at the bottom—just be careful!” The elevator doors opened and they leaped through; Press was punching the close door and Parking 1 buttons before the doors had completed their cycle. They saw Fitch and Dan sprint past on their way to the stairwell; Fitch’s pistol was out, but Press had to wonder if he’d have the gall to actually use the weapon. “Come on, come on!” Press slapped at the Parking 1 button again, and finally the car began to move.

Press’s face was furious. His gaze was glued to the floor indicator as the elevator descended. “What are the chances she got pregnant, anyway?” he said, half thinking aloud. The small elevator magnified his voice, making it sound more frantic than it already was. “But in case she is, we’ve
got to
get to her before she gives birth. I mean, we can’t have two of those things running around out there, right?”

Laura laughed a little hysterically. “Two? Are you kidding, Press? Who
knows
what kind of a reproductive system she has. She could have a dozen children . . . or lay a
thousand
eggs!”

“Then we’ll find every one of them and fry them,” Press said rigidly. He started to say something more but the elevator bounced lightly and the doors slid open to reveal a concrete underground parking lot. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, throwing lighting that was more than adequate in normal circumstances but not nearly enough to make him feel comfortable right now. As they sprang out of the elevator every noise made a double or triple echo, and oddly, they could hear footsteps in the stairwell—Fitch and Dan, pounding toward them from nine floors up. Swinging to face the fire door, Press and Laura were met with the gray, tangled edges of a hunk of misshapen metal.

“Shit!” Press said in disbelief. “I don’t believe it—she went right through a steel door!”

Laura wrenched her head to the left, then the right, fear making her envision movement in every shadow between the cars. “Damn it,
damn
it!” Her voice had risen to a shout. “What is it going to take
to stop
her?”

“The weapons we need are in the van,” Press said. His eyes glittered like blue ice. “I’m sure we’ll find something.”