Blood Dreams (18 page)

“I think it was a lot more deliberate than that,” Dani said. “I can’t prove it, because so far there’s nothing anybody would consider to be evidence—but I know the sense I got from that voice in my mind. That other personality. He was already focused on Bishop, on the SCU. He was planning on a fight. Maybe he intended to make his stand there in Boston, or maybe he was already on the verge of moving on. Either way, hearing about Paris brought him to Venture. Because Paris was here, and she had a very cool ability he wanted for his very own.”

“He’s a psychic vampire,” Jordan guessed hesitantly, half afraid someone would laugh at him.

But this wasn’t a group to easily dismiss the seemingly fantastic.

“There are plenty of energy vampires in the nonpsychic world,” Bishop told him. “You probably know at least one yourself. They wear out their friends just having a normal conversation, suck the energy right out of the room.”

Jordan frowned. “Actually, I know two people like that. But this guy—am I right in thinking he’d have to have some kind of specialized ability? I mean, to steal another psychic’s abilities?”

Listening to the clock ticking louder in her head, Dani said, “Probably. To be honest, I don’t really care how he does it. Or why. I just want to find him, and before he has the strength to finish the job he started. He’ll go after Paris again, and, guardian or not, he could kill her before he ever realized she no longer has the ability he wants so badly.”

Jordan nodded quickly. “So we go back to the warehouses.”

“And,” Marc said, “start checking property records for the last couple of months. I’m betting he likes his accommodations to be a little more comfortable than a warehouse, wherever he does his dirty work. I doubt he’s stayed at one of the motels all these weeks, because it would have been noticed. A rental or a lease is more likely. But we’ll send deputies out to check the motels anyway.”

“Which will also be noticed,” Bishop said.

“It’s the weekend and getting late, so maybe not so much. In any case, I figure we’ve got maybe forty-eight hours max before the news breaks wide open.” He eyed Bishop. “And speaking of news, shouldn’t you be in Boston, all visible for the Director?”

“The Director had to fly to the West Coast for a few days and is due back in D.C. by Wednesday,” Bishop replied. “I’ve got several of my people wasting time in Boston running a shell game to disguise my absence, so I should be covered until then. If the hunt is still on in Venture, I go back to coming down here as often as I can on a corporate jet that does a regular twice-daily run from Atlanta to Boston and back.”

“True commitment,” Gabriel said politely. Before anyone could comment, he got to his feet and began unfolding a large map onto the conference table. “Roxanne and I have been checking out warehouses and other likely buildings during the last few days; I think if we compare notes, you’ll be able to cross off over half the ones on your list.”

20

I
T WAS NEARLY MIDNIGHT
when Marc parked his cruiser in the driveway of his house a few blocks from the sheriff’s department, and Dani was still arguing.

“Marc, I slept for eighteen hours. I—”

“You didn’t sleep for eighteen hours, you were out for eighteen hours. Big difference. And,” he added before she could interrupt him, “I did
not
sleep.”

“I didn’t say you shouldn’t rest, I said I didn’t need to.”

“You also said I was your guardian—or words to that effect—and your guardian sticks to you like white on rice. And you stick to him.”

“I just feel like I should be doing something to help find the killer,” Dani said.

Marc turned off the car and opened his door just enough for the interior light to come on. He looked at her steadily. “Are you afraid to dream this time, is that it?”

“I’m always afraid to dream. But that isn’t it. I don’t believe the killer has regained enough energy to come after anybody, and it’s not like I can plan to have a vision dream, you know that. It happens or it doesn’t. Passive, remember? I’m tired of being passive. I need to be doing something, Marc, something useful.”

“Listen to me. Everything that can be done is being done. Everybody who’s not absolutely dead on their feet is out in teams searching buildings or at the station combing through property records. The only thing you or I could add would be two more pairs of tired eyes. We both need a break, Dani.”

She really couldn’t argue with that truth—or didn’t want to. But she did say mildly, “All my stuff is at Paris’s house.”

“And all my stuff is here. Come on, I’ll find you something to sleep in for tonight, and we can go by her place in the morning so you can change.”

“What, you mean there aren’t any bits of female clothing left behind by overnight guests? I thought every man had a drawer full of those.”

“Fishing, Dani?”

She got out of the car, waiting until he joined her on the walkway to say dryly, “Of course I was fishing. Since when was I ever subtle about stuff like this?”

“Stuff like this?”

She decided it was probably a good thing for him that she really was tired, because otherwise she would have picked up something and hit him instead of replying with the simple truth. “Continuing the process of reconnecting.”

He stared at her, one brow lifting.

“I’m really too tired to play games,” she confessed. “And that is what we’ve been doing the last few days. Isn’t it?”

His front porch light was on, and he stood there at the door, keys in hand, and looked down at her steadily. “That depends. Are you planning on sticking around this time?”

“I thought I would.” She hadn’t realized she was going to say it until she did.

“Then,” Marc said as he unlocked the door, “we’re definitely reconnecting.”

She followed him into the house, struck immediately by the fact that he had totally redone it; a decade before, this had been the house left to him by his parents, but now it was unquestionably Marc, an uncluttered, clean-lined Craftsman, both masculine and sophisticated.

“Nice,” she told him, looking around.

“Well, the eighties look sort of dated the place. And I really didn’t like dark green and pink as a color combo.”

“It’s not my favorite either.” She cleared her throat, allowing herself to become aware of the tension between them. The very deliberate choice surprised her, not because she made it but because she was able to.

Huh. It’s like opening a door. A weird kind of control I’ve never had before. Was I shielding without even thinking about it? Or just suppressing until I had the time and energy to deal?

“I know it’s late,” Marc said. “But I have some ice cream from Smith’s in the freezer. If that’s still the ritual.”

“It is.” She went with him into the bright kitchen and was quickly sharing with him a bowl of the best homemade vanilla ice cream in the world.

“This alone could have brought me back to Venture,” she told him.

“Mmm. I thought it took a vision. And a threat to Paris.”

“I didn’t know the threat was to her.”

“I think on some level you did.” Marc shrugged. “But either way, you knew something bad was coming here. And you came back to help.”

Dani put down her spoon and looked at him steadily. “You’re wondering if I would have come back here eventually, without the vision.”

Lightly, he said, “Is this more of Paris’s abilities? Are you clairvoyant now?”

Without answering that directly, she said, “It doesn’t take a clairvoyant to see the obvious. Marc, I like to think I would have matured enough at some point, even without a vision, to stop running away from who I am. But all I really know for sure is what I told you before. There’s nobody waiting for me back in Atlanta. There never has been.”

For a moment she didn’t think he was going to respond, and then he said, “I don’t have a drawer filled with bits of clothing left behind by overnight guests. I haven’t been a monk, Dani, but…there was never anybody I wanted to bring home. Not since the beautiful assistant left the magic show.”

Dani didn’t know who moved first and didn’t really care. All she knew was that the instant his arms closed around her and his mouth covered hers was the first time she truly felt she had come home.

I
t was the nightmare brought to life, Dani thought.

The vision.

The smell of blood turned her stomach, the thick, acrid smoke burned her eyes, and what had been for so long a wispy, dreamlike memory was now jarring, throat-clogging reality. For just an instant she was paralyzed.

It was all coming true.

Despite everything she had done, everything she had
tried
to do, despite all the warnings, once again it was all—

Oh, shit. Not again.

“Dani?” Roxanne appeared at her side, seemingly out of the smoke, gun drawn, vivid green eyes sharp even squinted against the stench. “Where is it?”

Huh. This is new. But I guess…

“Dani, you’re all we’ve got. You’re all
they’ve
got. Do you understand that? Which way?”

Wish I could see something in all this smoke. Something to tell me where this building is.

It seemed easier this time for her to concentrate on the stench of blood she knew none of the others could smell. A blood trail that was all they had to guide them.

Well, that and this vision. Why do I keep going through the motions? There must be a reason.

She nearly gagged, then pointed. “That way. Toward the back. But…”

“But what?”

“Down. Lower. There’s a basement level.” Stairs. She remembered stairs. Going down them. Down into corridors everywhere, and—No, wait. That wasn’t this vision. That had been during the dream-walking.

Hadn’t it?

Hallways in every direction, brightly lit, featureless but almost humming with energy.

Energy?

“It isn’t on the blueprints.”

“I know.” She dragged her mind back, wasting an instant to wonder how she could do that and yet couldn’t seem to deviate from the vision-dream script.

I told you all this before, dammit. No, wait—I told Hollis all this before. So where is she? And why is somebody else speaking her lines?

“Bad place to get trapped in a burning building,” Roxanne noted. “The roof could fall in on us. Easily.”

Exactly her lines.

Bishop appeared out of the smoke as suddenly as Roxanne had, weapon in hand, his face stone, eyes haunted. “We have to hurry.”

“Yeah,” Roxanne replied, “we get that. Burning building. Maniacal killer. Good seriously outnumbered by evil. Bad situation.” Her words and tone were flippant, but her gaze on his face was anything but, intent and measuring.

It was always Hollis before. Why isn’t it now?

“You forgot potential victim in maniacal killer’s hands,” he said, not even trying to match her tone.

“Never. Dani, did you see the basement, or are you feeling it?”

Oh, right—I have Paris’s abilities.

“Stairs. I saw them.” The weight on her shoulders felt like the world, too heavy to cast aside, so maybe that was what was pressing her down. Or…“And what I feel now…He’s lower. He’s underneath us.”

“Then we look for stairs.”

Dani coughed. She was trying to think, trying to remember. But dreams recalled were such dim, insubstantial things, even vision dreams sometimes, and there was no way for her to be
sure
she was remembering clearly.

Dammit, why do I keep going through the motions? Why don’t I just lead the way to the damn stairs?

And where the hell is Hollis?

Why is that different this time?

Is it me?

What in God’s name did I do?

She was overwhelmingly conscious of precious time passing and looked at her wrist, at the absurdly childish Mickey Mouse watch with its bright red band and cartoon face that told her it was 4:17
P.M.
on Monday…October 13.

What? Oh, my God. That’s tomorrow.

Why, dammit?

What the hell happened to change the date?

“Dani?”

She shook off the momentary confusion. “The stairs aren’t where you’d expect them to be,” she said, coughing again. “They’re in a small room or office, something like that. Not a hallway. Hallways—”

“What?”

The instant of certainty was fleeting but absolute and gave the term
déjà vu
a whole new meaning for Dani.

Jesus, it’s like I’m stuck in a loop
—

“The basement is divided,” she heard herself say. “By a solid wall. Two big rooms. And accessed from this main level by two different stairways, one at each side of the building, in the back.”

Two traps. Not one.

No…two parts to one trap.

“What kind of crazy-ass design is that?” Roxanne demanded.

“If we get out of this alive, you can ask the architect.” The smell of blood was almost overpowering, but Dani’s headache was—She didn’t have a headache this time around.

Okay, I’m definitely stronger now, but—

A trap with two parts…

Tomorrow! How can it be so soon?

What happened to change the date? Is it because we found—or will find—the warehouse quicker this time? Because Paris was able to transfer her abilities to me?

No, wait…

Bishop said
potential victim.

God. Oh, God.

Where’s Hollis?

Marc appeared out of the smoke as abruptly as the other two had and took her hand in his free one. In his other hand was a big revolver.

Right gun this time. Déjà vu.

“Where to now?” he asked. “I can’t see shit for all this smoke.”

Roxanne replied to his question. “Dani is guiding us.”

He looked down at her, his expression calm but his eyes holding something as intimate as a caress.

Wow. Never knew a man could make love with just his eyes before. How about that?

Marc said, “I always knew the beautiful assistant was the real wizard. Like the man behind the curtain. Where to, Dani?”

The same—yet not. Why does it keep changing?

It was Bishop who said, “You don’t know which side they’re in.”

“No. I’m sorry.” She felt as if she’d been apologizing to this man since she met him. Hell, she had been.

That isn’t right. He apologized to me. The first words he said to me were an apology. Because of Paris. Because he used Paris as bait.

Bait…

Am I figuring out the trap?

Or am I part of it?

Roxanne was frowning. To Bishop, she said, “Great. Wonderful. You’re psychically blind, Gabe and I are useless except to hold guns, and we’re in a huge burning building without a freakin’ map.”

“Which is why Dani is here.” Those pale sentry eyes were fixed on her face.

Dani felt a little dizzy but oddly confident as well. “All I know is that he’s down there somewhere.”

“And Hollis?”

Hollis. Oh, my God.

She’s the potential victim.

The monster has her.

“Dani?” Bishop’s face was even more strained.

Hollis. He asked about Hollis.

And she had an answer for him. Of sorts. “She isn’t dead. She’s bait, you know that. She was always bait, to lure you.”

“And you,” Bishop said.

To lure me?

To lure us.

Always bait, to lure us. But he only ever wanted to catch one of us. He just wanted you distracted, disarmed—

“We have to go, now,” she heard herself say urgently. “He won’t wait, not this time.”

The conversation had taken only brief minutes, but even so the smoke was thicker, the crackling roar of the fire louder, and the heat growing ever more intense.

“We’re running out of time on every level,” Marc said, his fingers tightening around Dani’s. “The storm may roll around us like the last few have done, so we can’t count on rain. It’s been dry as hell for weeks, and this place is going up like a match. I’ve called it in.”

Bishop swore under his breath. “Marc—”

“Don’t worry, they know it’s a hostage situation, and they won’t come in. But they can damn well aim their hoses outside and try to save the nearby property.” He paused, then added, “Am I the only one who suspects this bastard planned out every last detail, including this place being a tinderbox?”

Roxanne said, “No, you aren’t the only one. We’re on
his
timetable, just like he wants.”

Bishop turned and started toward the rear of the building and the south corner. “I’ll go down on this side. You three head for the east corner.”

Dani wondered if instinct was guiding him as well, but all she said, to Roxanne, was, “He doesn’t care whose timetable we’re on.”

“I noticed that. Why do I get the feeling he blames himself for this mess?”

“He couldn’t have known—”

“According to everything I’ve heard about him, he certainly could have known. Maybe he did. Part of this, at least. Something that might have stopped things before it got this far. Come on, let’s go.”