Marked (11 page)

He was out the apartment’s front door before she even took a step in his direction, and headed for the back stairs that ran down to the alley at the rear of her old building. His hearing was still in tune with what was happening
around him, searching for what he’d sensed inside, which is why he heard her sniffle one floor up and from behind supposedly soundproof walls.

And shit, like he needed to hear that tonight.

He slung a leg over his Harley, parked near the Dumpster, and snapped on his helmet, not because he was worried about cracking his skull open but because it was the law. A hell-on-wheels, no-helmet biker attracted cops. And cops attracted trouble.

The bike roared to life beneath his fingers. As he tore out of the alley and onto the four a.m. deserted streets of Silver Hills, the raw power of the machine beneath him rumbled through his body.

As did the tingles. All over his skin. Stronger this time. Vibrating electric energy against his clothing so much that he was sure he had to be glowing beneath his denim and leather.

The portal had opened again. And this time what came through was no match for the darkness inside him. It was a thousand times worse.

“Are you sure there’s no sex in here, dearie? Because you know how I feel about all that humping and bumping.”

Casey plastered on her most pleasant yes-ma’am smile as the bell above the door jangled. A blast of crisp air rushed into the store just before Dana stepped in, wearing chic jeans, her favorite chunky boots and a bloodred leather jacket with shiny silver grommets running up and down the sleeves. In her hands she held two steaming paper cups, one of which Casey desperately hoped was filled with mocha Valencia.

Casey held up a finger to tell Dana she’d be right with her and turned the book in the sixtyish woman’s hands so she could see the author’s photo on the back jacket. “None at all, Mrs. Colbert. Joan Swan strictly writes mysteries. A little murder and mayhem doesn’t bother you, does it?”

Adelaide Colbert glanced over her reading glasses at Casey and lifted her badly red-tinted eyebrows. “Of course not. Do I look like a prude? Just so long as we’re clear on the sex thing.” She flipped the book back to examine the cover, then lifted her voice just loud enough so anyone else browsing the stacks in Casey’s corner bookstore could hear her. “I run the women’s league at Saint Michael’s First Episcopalian. I have a reputation to live up to, you know. No humping and bumping.” She winked at Casey.

Casey reached for the end aisle display and added another Swan book to Mrs. Colbert’s arms. “Then might I suggest this one as well. Definitely no sex here.”

Mrs. Colbert harrumphed, then took the books Casey had suggested toward the register at the rear of the store where Mandy, Casey’s part-time employee, rang her up with a smile and chatter about the local high-school football team.

Amused, Dana sauntered in Casey’s direction and handed her the Java House cup she’d picked up across the street. “I thought Swan wrote steamy fireman romances.”

Casey lifted the cup and took a slow sip. Ah, just like those chocolate oranges Gigia used to send her at Christmas. Life was already better. She licked her lips. “She does.”

“Uh-huh,” Dana said. “Say no more.”

Casey waited as the older woman finished her purchase and headed for the exit. Warmth spread from the cup in Casey’s hand to her fingers and then into her arms, and she hoped it would continue its journey through her chilled body. She was colder today than she had been yesterday. Colder and more tired. It had taken all her energy just to get out of bed and haul herself to the bookstore.

“Stay warm, Mrs. Colbert. Weather report said we’re in for a windstorm.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” the old woman muttered as she pulled the heavy glass door open. “Good day, Casey.”

“Speaking of the storm…” Casey handed Mandy a checkbook and the list of supplies she’d made out earlier. “Why don’t you head over to Staples now before the weather hits? I can handle things here.”

“You sure?” Mandy asked, already reaching for her coat from the hook along the back wall.

“Yeah,” Casey said. “Go ahead and grab an early lunch while you’re out.”

“Want me to pick up any for you?” Mandy looped her scarf around her neck.

“No. I’m fine.”

“You dieting?”

The question caught Casey off guard. She knew she’d lost some weight—she could feel it in her clothing—but
not so much she thought anyone else would notice. “No,” she said, in what she hoped was a calm voice. “Just not hungry.”

“ ’Kay. I’ll catch you later.” Mandy smiled at both of them, then left the store.

Unfortunately, Dana wasn’t so inclined to buy Casey’s “not hungry” line. She studied Casey with scrutinizing eyes. Which only unnerved Casey more. Like she didn’t have enough to deal with today?

“Thanks for the coffee,” Casey said quickly to fill the lull in conversation.

“No problem.” Dana glanced down at the book on the counter and lifted her eyebrows. “Something I should know?”

Shit. Casey’s eyes cut to the title she’d pulled from the stacks before opening and then had been too distracted to set aside:
Healthy is a State of Mind
. She quickly stuck the book under the counter, out of sight. “A customer requested it. Hey. What are you doing here so early anyway?” She looked at the clock—ten forty-five
A.M
.—then back at Dana. “Didn’t you close last night?”

“Yeah.” Dana shrugged, following the change in topic as she leaned a hip against the counter. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Though they didn’t get together often, over the past few months, Dana had developed a knack for dropping in unexpectedly, and she was the only person at XScream Casey felt even remotely close to. But her friend was a creature of the night and rarely ventured out before midday, so the fact she was here now brought Casey’s instincts on alert. For reasons Casey couldn’t explain, there was a bond between the two of them. Had been from the moment they’d met. She’d stopped questioning it about two months ago and had finally just given in to the strange sensation of having a friend around, albeit an unpredictable one. “Uh-oh. Rough shift?”

“No worse than normal.”

Casey nodded in understanding. And cursed Karl, as
she did every time he made a play for Dana. The guy was a slime, and he ran XScream as if it were his own private Playboy Mansion. Dana wasn’t the only girl who’d mentioned he liked to get rough, but she was one of the only ones who routinely put up with it. Why, Casey didn’t know, but she’d given up bugging Dana about it because the answer was always the same:
I have my reasons.

Thank God Karl had never tried anything on her, Casey thought. But hell if she could see what Dana’s reasons were now. “I guess that explains the marks on your neck.”

“I guess so. Doesn’t explain yours though.”

Damn. She thought the collar and makeup she’d applied this morning had hidden her fading hickey.

Casey adjusted her collar while Dana grinned like an idiot and didn’t do a thing to hide her own make-out marks. “Wanna kiss and tell?”

“No.”

Dana pursed her lips. “Party pooper.”

“What ever.” Casey tipped her head and tried one last time to get through to her friend. “Just please tell me it wasn’t Karl who did that.”

“It wasn’t Karl.” Dana pushed away from the counter, and whatever teasing mood she’d been in suddenly vanished. “Look, I only stopped by to let you know I’m taking off for a while.”

“You are? Where to?”

“Don’t know. Was thinking maybe I’d head north, up to Canada. Maybe into Vancouver. You could go with me if you want.” A smile tugged at her mouth. “State-of-mind thing and all that. We could hit Robeson, do some shopping, hook up with some Canucks. You know what they say about Canadian men. Everything’s bigger up north.”

Casey cringed and held up a hand. “Ew. It’s too early in the morning to think about that.” Especially now. Especially when all it would do was get her worked up over the naked mystery man she’d had in her bed two nights ago. The one who’d left his mark on her neck, who’d
branded her skin with his heat, then vanished like a thief in the night without so much as a flippin’ word.

And she wouldn’t
even
let herself think about the size of his…yeah.

“It’s
never
too early to think about sex, as the innocent Mrs. Colbert just pointed out.” Dana glanced over her shoulder. “Speaking of which, why don’t you ring me up one of those Swan books for the road.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“I’m something,” Dana agreed.

When she had her new book and the coffee was gone, Dana headed for the exit. She stopped two steps from the door and turned to study Casey for a long moment. “You know, I don’t get along with most women.”

“Really?” Casey mocked. “I never would have guessed.” Though she was a good five inches shorter than Casey, Dana had always seemed bigger, more vibrant, more alive than anyone Casey knew. If Dana was in a room, people took notice. She just had that kind of personality that filled up the space around her.

“I didn’t like you at first, you know. There was something about you that I found odd. Funny, huh? Most people say that about me.”

“You are odd, Dana. Unexpected trip to Vancouver no exception.”

Dana smiled. “Yeah, well. If we were all the same, how boring would that be?”

“Very.”

“See? Different is good.” As quickly as her smile had come, something dark crept into the edges of Dana’s pretty blue eyes. “Do me a favor, Casey.”

“Anything.”

“Watch your back. People around here aren’t what they seem.”

“Meaning…?”

“Meaning, be careful. Ted Bundy was a good-looking guy and he turned out to be a serial killer. Don’t buy
things at face value. Not everyone’s as sweet as I am.” Before Casey could ask what that meant, she was being hugged. “And don’t stress over what the doctor tells you.”

“How did you—?”

“Gotta run. See you when I get back.”

Dana left the store in a rush of wind. Dry leaves scattering the sidewalk outside blew into the store before the door snapped shut, bringing with them the smell of impending rain and gloom.

How had she known? Casey stared out at Dana rushing across the street, and tried to remember if she’d mentioned the appointment. Had she written it on something here in the store? Had she told Dana about her fears and then forgotten all about their conversation?

The answer to those questions was simple: she hadn’t told anyone what she was afraid might be wrong with her, so there was no way Dana could know. She’d barely even admitted it to herself.

People around here aren’t what they seem.

What the hell did that mean?

A strange sense of foreboding slid down Casey’s spine as she stood rooted in place, watching Dana through the plate-glass windows as she walked briskly down Main Street and turned onto Halston.

They’d only known each other six months. What was Dana trying to tell her? What did she know?

Nothing, Casey decided. Dana was obviously just reading the signs. Mandy’s comment, the book, feeling emotional about her trip…Maybe she’d even seen Casey’s car parked outside the clinic yesterday.

Yeah, that had to be the answer.

Pushing the jumbled thoughts out of her mind, Casey scanned the street. Two cars were parked down the curb, but the sidewalks were empty. The coffee shop across the way was a virtual deserted island. Beyond the town square where no children played, dark clouds gathered, signaling the coming storm.

People obviously had heard the forecast of high winds and heavy rain and this time taken heed, hunkering down at home, ready to wait it out.

Everyone but her.

She turned for the checkout counter and considered the possibility of closing early. But what would she do at home alone for the rest of the day? She was on pins and needles waiting for that dreaded phone call from the doctor, unable to settle down because her brain kept pinging back and forth between what she suspected was wrong with her and what had happened the other night.

The phone rang just as she reached the stock-room door. She froze and glanced toward the counter. A strange vibration hummed along the base of her spine, near her birthmark.

Be careful. Don’t buy things at face value.

She lifted the receiver and mustered up her courage. “Once Upon a Time.”

“Casey? It’s Jill Carrow.”

Her doctor. Casey pulled in a breath. “Hi. I was hoping you’d call.”

“I have your test results back.”

No beating around the bush. This couldn’t be good. “And…?”

Jill hesitated, and in the drawn out silence, Casey heard her answer before the words were even spoken. “And I think you’d better come in so we can talk about this in person. I’m afraid we found something.”

It was dangerous to open the portal in the same place he’d exited only days before. To keep from drawing unwanted attention, Theron chose a location fifty miles from Silver Hills and hot-wired a car he lifted off an abandoned side street to drive himself back to the small town.

Man, it would just be easier if he could flash from place to place on earth like he could in Argolea. But no, that was an ability he and his Argolean kin enjoyed only in their
homeland. And truth be told, if any humans saw him disappear into thin air, they’d probably freak out more than if they knew daemons roamed the lands around them.

Since he’d walked among humans most of his life, he had a fair working knowledge of their technology, so the mechanical aspects of driving weren’t a big deal. He normally wasn’t one to steal, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and he was anxious to get to Silver Hills and get this little job over with.

He slowed as he neared the town’s city limits and turned onto Main Street. A series of shops lined both sides of the street, while little banners announcing the annual Autumn Harvest Festival flapped in the wind from old-fashioned-patina light posts every two hundred feet. A few leaves desperate to hang on to summer clung to branches above the road, but their days were numbered. Mother Nature was in a foul mood, judging from the swirling black sky above, and she looked nearly ready to unleash.

It was, Theron suspected, the quintessential American small town. When he’d passed through here only days before, he hadn’t paid it much heed, but now he did. The gingerbread trim, the hand-painted signs, the dried hops strung around doors and wound into wreaths. Part of him wondered what the humans who lived here would do if they knew one of his kind lived among them.

His kind?

No. Not his kind. This time the woman he’d come to find was nothing more than a human with a little something extra. Something Isadora needed.

He parked the car halfway up Main Street and climbed out. Crisp air surrounded him as he headed down the sidewalk. The king had given him only a name—Acacia Simopolous—and told him of a store the woman’s family had run for the last twenty-odd years. He figured it was the best place to start.

A few cars were parked along the street, but there were surprisingly few humans roaming around for this time
of day. All things considered, it was fairly safe. Daemons didn’t like to come out during the day, though that didn’t mean they wouldn’t. Scanning businesses he passed, Theron spotted his target.