Touch of Darkness (26 page)

“Is that everything?” Persistent little devil. Dammit.

“No, it isn’t,” I snapped irritably. He was pushing. He knows how much I hate that and he was doing it anyway.

“Well?”

“Tell you what. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” I didn’t mean for it to sound as bitchy as it came out. His voice dropped almost an octave, and took on a dangerous edge. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you’ve been keeping things from me too. ‘For my own good’ no doubt.”

I heard him inhale sharply. I’d hit a nerve. But he kept his cool enough to act innocent. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Bullshit. My mind brushed his, and I saw clearly a lot of the things he’d hidden. Some of them were incredibly important, and it pissed me off. I couldn’t help myself. I just started spouting words, not even sure where they were going until they reached air.

“Really? Are you saying you just forgot to tell me that the werewolf you fought at the cemetery wasn’t a rogue working with the vampires—that it smelled, and tasted, like a vampire, and that a good third of the bites on my brother and the priest who died didn’t come from human mouths, and that they showed signs of having had blood sucked through them anyway?”

Silence stretched for long moments on the other end of the line. I knew he was still there. I could hear his harsh breathing. I let it drag on for a bit, mainly because I really was angry now. Maybe I could have found out more from my dreams if I’d known what to look for.

He sighed, but didn’t answer.

“Fine.” I tried not to sound bitter and failed. “We can talk about it when you get off shift. Along with everything else. But know this, if I have to tell you everything the reverse is true too.”

“I suppose.” His enthusiasm was underwhelming. In fact, he sounded just a teeny bit bitter, which meant it was probably time to change the subject. Because ultimately I didn’t want to cause a real fight. “Before I forget. Thursday night we’re having dinner with Brooks and his wife to sign the lease. I was thinking maybe we’d fix steaks. There’s a brick barbeque pit in the back yard.”

“Sounds great.” It sounded flat and cold, even though I knew he meant it. But he wasn’t quite ready to let go of the previous conversation. He sighed again, and this time the sound was more sad than martyred. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about that stuff. I should’ve. I’ve gotta go now, but we really will talk when I get off shift. I love you, Katie.”

“I love you too. I’ll keep the bed warm for you.” If he could bend, so could I. I’m proud, but I’m not stupid. I love him. I want the relationship to work. That means sometimes one, or both, of us is going to have to swallow our pride a little and compromise.

“Do that.” I could sense his gratitude. It was warm and gentle as a blanket against my psychic senses. It made me a lot more hopeful about the conversation we’d be having in a couple of days.

I finished getting ready and was on my way out the door by 8:30. Before I left I took my cell phone off of the charger and called Mary. I knew she’d taken the whole week off to get ready for the Conclave. I was hoping she hadn’t already left for the convention center because I didn’t have her cell number programmed into my phone yet.

“What do you need now, Katie?” She sounded tired and stressed. I knew she’d be glad when the meetings were over and life could get back to normal. I was pretty sure everyone who’d had to deal with her the past few weeks felt the same way. But even I have enough sense not to say something like that out loud.

“I’m headed out to take care of a bunch of errands and I wanted to know if you have a time for Elaine’s flight? I want to make sure I’m home by the time she gets here.”

“Hang on. Let me look it up.” I heard her rummaging around for a minute in the background. “It arrives at 7:00

P.M., on United. She’s taking a cab, so we won’t have to meet her at the airport.”

“Oh good. That should give me plenty of time.”

“What all are you planning on doing?”

I gave her a quick rundown of my list. She laughed. “Your day sounds almost as bad as mine. I bet you won’t manage even half that.”

“Probably not,” I admitted. “And while I’m out, is there anything you need me to help with?” Say no. Please say no.

“Not today. Go run your errands. But if I don’t make some real progress I may be asking you for help tomorrow.”

“In that case I won’t schedule anything.”

“Thanks.”

I hung up and slid the phone into my jacket pocket before heading out the door. I was looking good, feeling sharp as I hurried down the street to the bus stop. Mary’s words had motivated me. The best way to get me to do something is to tell me I can’t, that it’s impossible. Not that I’m contrary or anything.

I plopped myself onto the wooden bus bench and pulled out my phone. I might as well make calls and schedule as many appointments as I could manage while I waited. Yeah, strangers might overhear. I could live with that. My first call was to my insurance agent. He transferred me to the adjuster handling my claim. Ralph Hendrix was not a happy man. Part of it was personal. His daughter was currently enrolled in a vampire halfway house. Too, I was costing his company money. A lot of money. He hated it and would’ve taken it out on me if he hadn’t suspected (correctly) that I’d report him to his superiors if he behaved as anything less than a professional. I wished I’d had a chance to talk to him when Tom was with me. He was enough of a chauvinist to at least hide his emotions when a man was present. But Tom had to work. So I was going to handle it alone. And professional self-preservation wasn’t quite enough to keep the hostile tone from his voice when he explained that they were considering the building a total loss. They’d already cut the check for the bank and sent it to them, so the loan was paid off. I could pick up my checks for the contents and the remainder on the building itself. But had I chosen someone to do the cleanup and demolition?

Or, if I wasn’t planning to rebuild, he’d been contacted by a couple of different developers who were interested in the property and would include clearing the lot as part of the package. Had I considered that option?

I hadn’t, but I told him I would.

Did I want to sell, or rebuild? Land in lower downtown is at a premium. I would get a great price. I could pay off all the debt I’d incurred and probably still have more than enough to buy the house and replace my vehicle. It would give me a fresh start. I’m not a builder. I’m more a handyman. Give me the basics and I can do maintenance and improvements, but building something from scratch? I’d have to hire that out. I’ve heard more than a few horror stories about that sort of thing over the years. And then there’s all the bureaucratic red tape that I’d have to wade through. Could I even afford it? And more than one developer had already expressed an interest in buying. That was a good sign. But did I really want to give it up?

There was only one way to be sure. I needed to actually see the ruins for myself. I’d managed to avoid it yesterday, but it was time. And if seeing Our Lady of Perpetual Hope Church in ruins had been hard I knew that facing this would be downright hellish. I’d poured so much of myself into the renovations. It had taken years of literal blood, sweat, and tears.

Damn Dylan anyway.

I climbed onto the bus that would take me downtown along with a couple of commuters dressed for a day at the office. Taking an empty seat near the back, I thought about everything that had happened to me recently. How much of it had been manufactured by the Thrall? The attack at the airport was obvious; and we had proof about the building collapse and the church. Bryan’s injuries had definitely been Thrall-induced, although frankly, that could’ve been the result of his spying more than an attack on me. Someone had let Janine know where Tom was. It would have been a perfect way to unbalance my relationship. In fact, it had almost succeeded. Had that been a “gift” from Dylan as well?

How long had he been planning his revenge? When did his heart turn from love to hate? There was no way of knowing. But I wouldn’t have put any of this past him, thinking back.

The blocks rolled by. The bus was getting more and more crowded. Pairs of people were sharing nearly every seat, but nobody made any move to sit next to me. I suppose I probably looked forbidding. I was certainly getting more and more angry. As we drove past the stop that would have led me to Our Lady Church I found myself grinding my teeth, my fists clenched in impotent fury. It took a real effort to relax my jaw muscles, to fight down my rage. He wanted me angry—too angry to think, so that I would react, play right into whatever plans it was he’d made. I would not give him that satisfaction. I was better than that. I had to be. But oh, God it was hard. A few more blocks and we were nearly to the Market Street Station, easy walking distance from the old place. The lurching of my stomach had nothing to do with the abrupt stop the bus made. I trooped off after the other passengers, but where most of them headed across the street to catch the mall shuttle toward the highrises uptown, I walked in the opposite direction, my heels clicking harshly against the dark stone squares that formed the station pavement. Already it was a warm enough morning that I didn’t mourn the lack of a coat. My suit jacket was enough, so long as I moved at a brisk pace. My breath didn’t even fog the morning air. Hard to believe that just a few short days ago the city had been locked in the throes of a freak fall blizzard.

I passed a couple of restaurants, a high-end liquor store, and the building that warehoused all of the books for one of the city’s big independent bookstores. If I went two more blocks straight ahead I’d come to Bernardo’s. But not yet. That was where I’d head after, assuming I wanted either breakfast, liquid restoration, or both. I turned right, and caught my first glimpse of the disaster—yellow warning tape that flapped in the breeze, making a sharp slapping sound. It had been wrapped around parking meters and attached to temporary construction fencing that reminded me forcibly of yesterday.

I paused, steeling myself, then continued forward.

It was both better, and worse, than I’d expected.

Oh, the building was a total loss. No doubt about that. But the sight of it didn’t hurt me the way I’d expected. Maybe it was because I’d had all this time to prepare; maybe I was just numb. But it didn’t devastate me the way the loss of the church had. It was just a wrecked building: something to be torn down and replaced in the never-ending cycle of life and death in the city. Don’t get me wrong, I was sorry and sad. But I’d seen glimpses of it on television; and had been warned by Tom and Joe’s reaction to my coming here and the condition of those few of my things they’d managed to salvage.

I heard a vehicle slow down near the curb behind me. There was a soft whirr as the window rolled down.

“Hello, Buffy.”

I knew that voice, knew who I’d see when I turned to look behind me. Part of me brightened at the voice, and part of me wanted to turn and punch him in the nose.

Lewis Carlton is a former NBA all-star. In his prime he played power forward and no one in the game had been better. Three championship rings decorate those oversized hands. He stood seven foot two inches in his bare feet, every bit of it solid muscle. He sported tattoos, piercings, and, now that he’d retired, a perfectly lovely set of fangs. He was the queen of the Pueblo hive, thanks to my intervention. From the minute we’d met I’d found him fascinating, pretty much the same way birds find snakes fascinating. The former Denver queen had brought him into Denver for the sole purpose of intimidating me. It had worked. But in the process we’d formed an odd bond. He still scares me, and I don’t trust him, but I can’t help but like him.

He pulled his Hummer to the curb and unfastened the seat belt. He was moving slowly, but I really didn’t notice it at first. I was too busy wondering how he’d tracked me down. I was so curious, in fact, I asked. After all, the worst he’d do is refuse to tell me.

“How’d you find me?”

He shrugged one shoulder and tipped his head. “Wasn’t hard. Our people have been tapping your brother’s phone for months. I made a couple of calls to my peeps, the ones who don’t know I’m on the big guy’s shit list. They read me the conversation you had with the wolf bitch this morning.” He climbed out of the vehicle, slamming the door closed behind him.

“They’re what?’

“Oh for God’s sake, Buffy, grow up,” he snapped. “If you keep expecting your enemies to behave themselves and play fair you’ll wind up getting killed.”

I stared at him for a long silent moment, too shocked to speak. Normally Carlton is the epitome of style. Today, he just looked bad. His burnished black skin had gray undertones and he slouched in a way that spoke of injury and pain. He wore his usual dark shades, so I couldn’t see his eyes, but the black nylon warm-up pants and a matching tank clung to his body in spots and the dark color didn’t quite hide darker stains. That’s when I noticed he was swaying on his feet. If he dropped, he might bring down the rest of the building.

“What in the hell happened to you?” I hurried over to his side. Sliding my arm around his waist I walked him over to the steps of the building next to mine and helped him lower himself carefully into a sitting position. I sat next to him, not quite propping him up, but available if he needed it.

He was moving badly enough that I had to wonder just how hurt he was, and whether I should be taking him to the emergency room or calling an ambulance.

He gave me a watered down version of his usual smile. “Tactful as always.”

“Should I dial 9-1-1?”

He shook his head. “Don’t bother. I’ve only got a few minutes before they shut me down. I’ll be dead before an ambulance could get here.”

The words were all the more shocking because he said them so matter-of-factly. I didn’t doubt him. I couldn’t. I’ve seen the collective cut down individual members who defied it. But killing Carlton would wipe out his whole hive. Why would they do that? What had he done?

“Why—” I started to ask, but he waved me to silence. “Things have changed, Buffy, but you’ve probably figured that out by now. The Thrall isn’t a collective any more, at least not the way it used to be. It’s the difference between socialism and a dictatorship. He’s killed all of us who were strong enough to stand up to him. Every one of us who argued against his plan is dead or dying. He’s replaced all of us with his puppets.” Giving a grunt of pain he twisted his body, reaching to pull a large brown envelope from the small of his back. “Use this. Find a way to stop him.”