Touch of Madness (18 page)

I blinked stupidly. I’d just assumed that the queens had been in my head and seen what was going on, and that they would pass the information on. Apparently I was wrong. I looked at Tom, who shrugged his shoulders. He was leaving the decision up to me.

“I thought you knew.” I reached over and grabbed the envelope from where it was sitting on the seat between Tom and me. “Amanda anticipated my move. She left a message for me at her mother’s office.” I handed the envelope out the window to Carlton. “She gave me a map showing how to get to her.”

“It’s a trap.” Carlton slid the pages from the envelope and looked them over.

“Ya think?” Tom rolled his eyes and growled.

Carlton’s smile evaporated as he replaced the pages and passed the envelope to me through the car window. “I’ll be back in two hours. Give me your word you won’t take off without me. And I don’t mean telling the queens in your head—you tell me…personally.”

I thought about that for a second, searching for his angle and not finding it. “Give me your cell phone number. If we decide to leave early, I’ll give you a call.”

Carlton pulled his wallet from the back pocket of his slacks and removed a business card. Using a Mont Blanc pen he scrawled a series of numbers on the back of the card.

“You’re going to be needing back-up on this one, Reilly.”

“I’ll be going with her.” Tom’s voice had a bass rumble to it.

Carlton put both massive hands on the window frame and leaned forward to get a better look inside the car. “Yeah, but you’re only one wolf.” His expression grew grave as he turned to me. “Just how well does this bitch know you?”

“I’ve known her since high school. We were best friends once.”

“Shit. Then she’ll be able to anticipate exactly what you’re going to do.”

I thought about that for a second. Once upon a time that would have been true. But a lot had happened in the past few years. I’d changed. Like it or not I was a harder, colder person than the girl Amanda had known. “I don’t think so.” I smiled a quick baring of teeth. “But she’ll think she can.”

“She anticipated you going to her mother.”

“Hell, that’s just logic, Carlton. Anyone who has ever watched a cop show knows you start with the next of kin.”

He thought about that for a moment. When he answered, his voice was quiet and firm. “Just don’t leave before I get back.” He straightened up and stepped away from the car. As I entered the code and drove into the garage I caught a glimpse of him driving off.

Tom shook his head as I pulled the car into its usual space. “A vampire. He’s a friggin’ vampire. It doesn’t make sense.”

I didn’t comment. I couldn’t fathom it either. I couldn’t imagine that Lewis Carlton wouldn’t be strong enough to fight off an attacking Thrall, even a queen. Which meant he’d gone into being a host willingly. It made no sense. Why accept a parasite knowing it would kill you in just a few years? There are people who are just stupid, or crazy, but Carlton demonstrably wasn’t. So why?

I hopped out of the car, shutting the door with a brisk slam before hitting the lock button on the keychain. The car beeped, its lights flashing to let me know that the alarm was on.

“I’m going to head up to my apartment,” Tom announced. “I’ll come up in a few minutes.” He circled around the vehicle, taking me into his arms for a sweet, gentle kiss. “Promise you won’t leave without me.”

“I promise.”

He gave me a quick squeeze and another kiss before sprinting over to the staircase. I stood in the near-empty garage for a long moment, listening to the thunder of his feet echoing in the stairwell before I went over to activate the freight elevator.

Alone in the elevator, I scratched irritably at the skin under the neck brace. The rough acrylic was miserably uncomfortable, but it was worth it to have my neck protected in case of a bite. I’d learned from past experience just how much of an advantage it was, because a Thrall that broke off its teeth went into shock, leaving it totally vulnerable. I had the key in the socket and was locking off the elevator when the phone rang. I wasn’t really in any mood to talk to anyone. I had things to think about, plans to make, so I let the machine take it, grabbed the remote from on top of the counter, and flipped on the television with the volume muted. It was almost time for the news. I didn’t want to hear about Share the Planet, or the trial, or even the plane crash. I did need to check out the weather report. If it was snowing in the mountains there was a good chance the passes would be closed to traffic. I didn’t want to drive all the way up there only to find I couldn’t get through.

After the fourth ring I heard my voice saying “I’m not available to take your call, please leave a message after the tone.” The machine beeped, and I heard Miles MacDougal’s voice on the line.

“Kate, I got a very strange call from Henri Tané’s wife. I’m very worried. Please call me.”

I stopped in my tracks. Guilt washed over me in a tidal wave. How could I have forgotten about Henri? I leapt across the room, grabbing the receiver while Miles was still talking.

“Miles, I’m here. You caught me coming in the door.”

“Kate. I’m so glad I was able to reach you!” His relief was obvious, even over the phone. “I got the strangest call from Yvette Tané. She said that Henri had been murdered. She also said she saw you at Henri’s funeral, but that’s impossible. In Haiti the custom is normally to bury the dead within twenty-four hours of their death. I saw you in court, and there’s no way you could’ve flown down to Port-de-Paix and back.”

“No. I didn’t.” I didn’t explain about the psychic connection. It was just too weird. Miles was a scientist. He’d be utterly fascinated and would keep me on the phone for hours talking about it. I didn’t have hours. I needed to plan.

“Did she say anything about how it happened? Who did it?”

“She didn’t say. In fact, she acted as though you already knew. Does this have to do with the Thrall?”

“I don’t know. I’d thought so, but I talked to one of them about it and he said that it wasn’t them.”

“Then who—” He let the sentence trail off.

“I don’t know. I assume the Haitian police are looking into it?”

“Yvette didn’t seem to have much faith in them.”

I didn’t answer. There wasn’t anything to say. From what I’ve seen, most people don’t have a lot of faith in the police—anywhere in the world. It’s a shame, really. Most of the cops I’ve met are basically good guys doing a tough job. But I live in Denver, not Haiti. With the unstable political situation there, Yvette might have a valid point. Or not. I just didn’t know.

“Do you think the Thrall lied to you?”

“Maybe. But I doubt it. They’re pretty careful about not breaking the rules. They’ll bend them all to hell, but not break them.” I drummed my fingers against the tiled surface of the kitchen island, trying to remember word-for-word what Carlton had said. I couldn’t do it. I remembered the gist, but somehow that didn’t seem good enough.

“Monica broke the rules.” Miles spoke softly, each word chosen with obvious care.

“Monica was insane. The queens lost control over her.”

Miles didn’t answer. The silence stretched between us for long moments before he finally spoke. “Henri was a friend of mine, Kate. His wife is a lovely woman, left to raise her son alone in a country torn by violence. The person who did this needs to be brought to justice.”

I didn’t disagree. In fact, I figured Miles and I were probably even on the same page as to what constituted justice. The problem was, if the Thrall hadn’t been responsible, I didn’t have a clue who would have done it. I paced the floor with the receiver in my hand. I was tired, angry, and sad. It occurred to me that even though Carlton had told me Henri was dead, despite the fact I’d asked Mike for a mass, a part of me had clung to a tiny thread of hope that they were wrong and Henri was alive. Now I knew for a fact he wasn’t. I wouldn’t get the chance to apologize to him for being a jerk, or laugh at his dry wit and endless supply of Haitian proverbs. He’d been so vibrantly alive, it was hard to imagine him gone.

“Kate?” Apparently the silence had gone on too long for Miles’s comfort.

“I’m here.”

“I’m sorry. I know that the two of you had become close.”

“I’ll miss him.” My voice was tight with unshed tears of both anger and grief. A pause, and it sounded like Miles’s tears weren’t so unshed. “I’ll miss him, too.”

We ended the conversation shortly after that. There was really nothing more to say, and neither of us was capable of small talk.

I put the phone in its cradle and sank onto the nearest stool. I let my head fall into my hands. I was still sitting there when Tom came through the front door. He came up to me slowly, gently wrapping me in his arms before speaking. “What’s wrong?”

I lay my head against his chest, wrapping my arms around his waist and holding him tight. He stood in front of the stool, my knees on either side of him, just holding me. “Henri Tané really is dead. Somebody murdered him.”

“I’m sorry. I know you liked him.” Tom moved his hand beneath my chin and tilted my head upward. With infinite tenderness his lips met mine, his fingers wiping away my tears. When the kiss ended he pulled back only a little, so that he could look me in the eyes. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

“I’m not sure.” I took a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts. “You know I’ve been having nightmares.”

“Yes.”

“I’m beginning to wonder whether they’re just dreams, or if maybe they’re something more. And while I didn’t recognize them at first, I think…I think the victims in the dreams were the Not Prey who participated in the study.”

His brow furrowed and he was suddenly very, very serious. “Tell me everything.” Tom reached back to pull the second stool out. He took a seat, but covered my hands with his. That touch was an anchor, holding me together. It took time, but I described the dreams, giving him every detail I could remember. When I finished, I felt drained, exhausted, but strangely lighter. It was almost as if the information had been a weight dragging me down.

“You need to call Miles back. Ask him to pull the contact information on all of the Not Prey from the study files. If what you’ve been seeing are just dreams, no harm done. But if someone is stalking the Not Prey, they need to be warned.”

He reached past me to grab the phone, putting it onto the counter in front of me. Sighing, I picked it up and dialed the number for the hospital. Miles wasn’t in his office; maybe he’d been calling from home. If so, I was out of luck. I’d never gotten his home number. So I left a voice-mail explaining the situation and asking him to call me back. I felt like a fool and an idiot. But it was possible that lives were at stake. My embarrassment was irrelevant. When I hung up the phone, Tom reached over and hugged me close. “I’m proud of you.”

“Why?”

“I know how hard it is for you to accept your psychic talent. Since you don’t completely believe in it yourself, it was asking a lot for you to make that call.”

“Was it that obvious?”

“Only because I know you so well.” He smiled, and the expression warmed me to my toes. “Tell you what,” he suggested. “Why don’t you order us a pizza for dinner while I check out the weather reports?” I nodded my agreement and reached for the phone at the same time he went for the remote. Our hands brushed against each other, and it made me smile.

As I dialed out I watched Tom settle himself comfortably into the recliner. He switched channels and then turned off the mute, but kept the volume low enough that he could hear it without it bothering me.

“Holy crap!”

“What?” I put my hand over the mouthpiece and turned to find him staring at the television screen in absolute awe. Following his gaze, I stared at the picture being transmitted by Channel 5’s “MountainView” camera. It showed some of the worst blizzard conditions I’d ever seen. We usually get at least one or two really good storms a year, but this was just…amazing.

“There’s no way we’re driving to the Western Slope in that,” Tom observed. “We’re going to have to wait until the storm blows over.”

“You’re right,” I admitted. I wasn’t even sorry. The confrontation with Amanda was inevitable and dangerous. We needed to plan our attack. I knew it logically, but emotionally I simply wasn’t up to it. I was hoping that maybe some food and a good night’s sleep curled up next to Tom would help. If it didn’t I was going to be so screwed. The person at the pizza place came onto the line to take our order. She was obviously harried, and told me the delivery time was liable to be over an hour— if the storm didn’t worsen. I put my hand over the speaker and asked Tom if he minded.

“Perfect. They can even take two hours if they want.”

“No problem,” I told the woman. She quoted the price and hung up the line. By the time I’d placed the phone back in the cradle Tom was in front of me. He was smiling. I’d come to recognize that look on his face. It was the look he wore when he intended to seduce me.

“However shall we pass the time?” He batted his lashes at me in mock innocence. I laughed right up until the instant our lips met. His lips were warm and gentle, moving carefully against mine, as though my mouth was precious and fragile. He used both hands to cup my face. His strong fingers held me with a tenderness that took my breath away. He pressed gentle kisses in a line down my jaw line toward my throat, but was stopped by the turtleneck and brace.

“Let’s go upstairs and get you into something more comfortable,” he whispered. I was a little surprised: twice in one day? But I nodded my agreement, and he moved his hands. Taking my right hand in his he led the way upstairs.

I would not have thought it was possible to make unlocking the neck brace sexy, but damned if he didn’t manage. His teeth nibbled my earlobe, his breath hot against my neck. He shifted positions, pressing his hips against mine, pinning me to the wall next to the bed. I could feel every hard inch of him pressed against me. He spread my legs with one knee as his hand slid into the front pocket of my jeans to retrieve the key. His mouth locked on mine, and our tongues tangled as the kiss deepened into a fierce claiming of my mouth. I moaned because while his hands were working the catch his hips worked a slow movement that made my body ache with the need for his touch.