Red (33 page)

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Authors: Kate Serine

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Paranormal, #Fantasy

BOOK: Red
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“I don’t have the hard drive,” I said, warily backing away from the island toward the kitchen doorway.
Sebille edged a little closer. “Of course you do. Mr. Hamelin’s lovely little assistant told me all about how kind you’ve been and how you had offered to get the customer data for her.”
“Alice is just an Ordinary,” I hissed. “She doesn’t know anything.”
Sebille gave me a reproachful look. “Come now—do you really think I’ve accomplished this much by being stupid? As soon as I learned that you’d be poking around, asking questions of Alice, I sent a few of my little spies to keep watch over little Alice.”
So, that’s how she’d known we were at Alice’s apartment.
“Even now my little friends await my command, ready to perform whatever task I set them to,” Sebille continued, a sadistic gleam in her eye. “It’s really quite shocking how vicious they can be.”
“Leave her alone, you bitch,” I growled.
“Or what?” she taunted. “You’ll arrest me? That’ll be tough if you’re dead.”
“You won’t get away with this, Sebille,” I told her, tightening my grip on the knife. “Even if you take me out, Nate will track your ass down and haul you in.”
“The
Reaper
?” She chortled. “He will track down your killer, all right. He has suspected Seth all along, and after Seth killed that poor Ordinary woman, it was only a matter of time until he came after you—the one Tale who could bring him down.”
I blinked at her, trying to keep my surprise from registering. She didn’t know Seth had turned himself in. She thought she’d be in the clear once Nicky and I were eliminated. Sebille had made a critical misstep, and now it was my turn to pounce.
“That would have worked,” I told her, a grin growing on my lips, “except that Seth is sitting in an FMA prison cell awaiting a hearing with the Tribunal Monday morning.”
Sebille’s face fell, the realization of how colossally she’d miscalculated hitting her with full force.
Taking advantage of her momentary panic, I snatched up the phone from the floor and bolted. I was already racing out of the kitchen and dialing Nate’s number when I heard Sebille’s roar of rage. In a split second it morphed from her voice to something far more guttural and terrifying.
I ran as hard as I could, not sure where I was going or how I planned to get Sebille away from the house. I just knew I had to move. And quick.
I had just made it as far as the foyer and was lunging for the front door when it suddenly swung open. I slid to a horrified stop when I saw Nicky and Jules framed in the doorway.
“Get out!” I screamed, waving my arm that held the knife. “Go! Go!” But when I saw Juliet’s eyes widen, heard the scream building in her throat, I knew there was no time. I didn’t bother turning around; I knew what was coming.
Nicky’s expression was deadly as he pulled his gun. I dropped to the ground to get the hell out of the way. He fired off several shots, nailing Sebille in the chest, but the assault came too late. Several hundred pounds of muscle slammed into them, knocking Nicky through the open doorway and sending Jules to the foyer floor.
Juliet’s head hit the marble with a sickening
thwack
.
“NO!” I screamed, the sound burning my throat as it split the air. Without thinking, I dropped the phone and charged at Sebille as she attempted to claw her way back to her feet. I landed on her back and plunged the knife deep into her flesh.
Sebille reared onto her hind legs with a furious cry, throwing me off her back and into the wall. I felt the drywall dent behind my head and shoulders, but quickly shook off the pain.
Apparently thinking I was out of commission, Sebille prowled toward Nicky, who’d dragged himself back to Jules’s side. A low growl rumbled in Sebille’s throat as she hunched over, preparing to strike, but Nicky didn’t hear, his attention focused on trying to revive his wife in spite of the thick pool of blood creating a crimson crown around her head.
“Nicky!”
His head jerked up just in time to see what was coming. With no time to get off another shot, he dove out of the way, taking only a savage swipe from Sebille’s claws instead of the full assault, but the blow was enough to rip through his clothes and slice open his abdomen as it spun him in midair. Nicky landed hard on his shoulder and rolled to his ruined stomach. He tried to push up on his knees, but collapsed again with a choked cry of pain.
Not waiting for Sebille to go in for the kill, I launched myself at her, barreling into her side and taking her down to the ground. I plunged the knife once more into her thick fur, this time planting it firmly in her chest and ripping down. Blood gushed from the chest wound and spurted from her mouth as I struck again and again.
But she wasn’t going down easy. She let out a roar and gnashed at me with her massive jaws, her teeth grazing my arm. I yelped and reflexively caught her with a left cross, then struck again with my blade.
It took several minutes and countless blows before I realized she had gone still and that the shimmering incandescence of transformation had begun.
Trembling uncontrollably, I let the knife fall from my grasp and scrambled toward where Nicky and Jules lay. Two separate pools of blood crept slowly toward one another, finally intermingling and becoming indistinguishable.
“Oh, God,” I moaned. “No, no, no.” I went to Jules first, putting my arm under her neck and lifting her up so I could check her injury with my other hand. What I found when I pulled my hand away made me heave. Knowing there was nothing I could do, I gently set her back down before quickly moving over to Nicky. He still had a pulse, thank Christ, but he was bleeding out too fast for his body to heal.
“Damn it!” I barked, glancing around, searching for something to staunch the flow of blood. Juliet’s wrap rested on the ground a couple of feet away where it had drifted to the floor. I snatched it up and pressed it hard against Nicky’s stomach. He groaned in response to the pressure, his eyes briefly fluttering open.
“Don’t you die on me, Nicky!” I ordered, undoing his belt with one hand and tugging it off him. I maneuvered it around until it was positioned over the makeshift bandage and pulled it as tight as I could. “Don’t you dare. I’ll hunt you down in the afterlife and kick your ass if you even try it, you bastard.”
His fingers closed around mine and squeezed. I looked up from tending his wound to meet his stubborn gaze and knew he would do his damnedest to hang in there. Then he gave me a weak wink before slipping into unconsciousness.
I swiped my cheek across my shoulder, clearing away the blur in my eyes, then I spun around to reach for the phone, but a sudden blow to my left cheek sent me sprawling.
What the hell?
I rolled over and gasped when I saw Sebille, once more in human form, standing over me, the wounds in her chest sealing up before my eyes. “But I killed you!”
“You have no idea of the extent of my powers, you stupid little bitch,” she hissed. “
You
can’t kill me!”
Suddenly millions of particles of darkness swooped in between us, forming a vortex of swirling black smoke that settled into a solid mass in the form of a man. A man in a trench coat and fedora.
“But I can.”
Sebille’s eyes grew wide, horror dawning on her bloodied face just before Nate struck. His hand drove forward, penetrating the wall of Sebille’s chest, making her gasp. For one heavy second they stood silent and still in a horrific tableau. Then Nate jerked his hand out, taking with him a wispy white diaphanous strand. Sebille let out an airless gasp before dropping into a graceless heap.
Nate dropped down beside me and handed me his phone before pressing his lips to mine in a hard but brief kiss. “Call headquarters,” he said. “I’ll be back soon.”
Then he was gone.
With shaking hands, I dialed the FMA emergency number. “This is Enforcer Little,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “There’s been an incident.”
Chapter 39
 
At some point someone gave me coffee in a paper cup. I think it might have been Trish. She had shown up with the forensics team to process the crime scene sometime between when the paramedics had taken Nicky to the hospital and when the Investigators grilled me with the same damned questions over and over.
Most of the forensics team just gave me a solemn nod in greeting but Trish actually came and put an arm around my shoulders for a moment, giving me a comforting hug. Of course, I wasn’t sure if it was for her benefit or mine. She’d seen worse, I know, but I could tell this one shook her up.
I could relate.
Nate returned at one point and had a quiet conversation with the Investigators, apparently convincing them to leave me the hell alone, before disappearing again. He showed up again sometime later when they were finally carting away Sebille’s body and crouched down in front of me where I sat on the floor against the wall.
“Hi, sweetheart,” he said softly. “How about I take you out of here?”
I nodded. “Okay.”
He took hold of my elbow and gently helped me to my feet. My bruised and battered body screamed in protest and I groaned involuntarily as the pain hit me. “Damn hell.”
Nate slipped his arm around my waist, half holding me up as we navigated the blood on the floor on our way to the door.
“Looks like Nicky’s going to make it,” he said, slowing his pace so we could take the front steps one at a time.
My throat tightened and my eyes blurred, so I blinked rapidly and nodded. “Good. That’s good.” I cleared my throat a couple of times between winces as we made it down the steps. “What about Jules?”
I felt Nate’s body tense at my question and clung to his arm a little tighter. I already knew the answer, but I’d needed to hear it. I needed to be sure.
Carefully, he eased me into the car and closed the door. It was at that point that I began to shake. My whole body trembled so violently my teeth chattered, clacking together hard enough to be heard over the drone of the car’s purring motor.
Nate reached over and covered my clasped hands with one of his. “I’ll take you home.”
I shook my head. “I don’t want to go home—not looking like this. Gran worries about me enough as it is.”
Nate’s head bobbed once. “Okay.”
As Nate drove, I sat there, shaking, bemused, guilt ridden, and keenly aware of the blood splattered on my face and clothes and matted in my hair. I don’t remember much else about the ride; the scenery went by in a surreal blur as I replayed Sebille’s attack over and over. At some point, I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping that would banish the horrible images of Nicky and Jules, but it only seemed to sear them indelibly in my memory.
Eventually, the car slowed and we pulled into the driveway of a quaint little bungalow nestled in what I guessed was the Calumet Heights neighborhood. The house looked like it might be tan or beige stone, but it was hard to tell under the glow of the lone streetlight.
A moment later, Nate was taking my hand and leading me inside. Too dazed to question where we were, I hobbled along obediently beside him. We went through a living room that left me with a vague impression of quiet ease and on to a bedroom that was equally soothing.
Nate left me standing in the center of the room and disappeared. I heard water come on in the next room and the sound of cabinet doors opening and closing. Then Nate reappeared.
Gingerly, he removed the blood-soaked sweater, pulling it over my head and letting it fall to the ground. Then he slid the leggings down my legs, lifting my right foot, then my left to help me step out of them. My bra and panties followed, joining the other articles in the ruined, bloody pile on the floor.
Then, without a word, Nate took my hand and led me to the bathroom where the steam from the bubble bath he’d prepared had mercifully covered the mirror so that I didn’t have to see how wretched I looked.
He helped me step into the tub, then knelt down beside me. With tender hands, he wet my hair and washed it for me, his fingers massaging away the gore in languid motions. I closed my eyes, not aware that tears were running down my cheeks until I felt their searing heat and tasted the salty sting on my split lip.
When my hair was clean, Nate picked up a thick washcloth and lathered it with soap, then wiped away the worst of the blood from my face, neck, arms. Then he rinsed the cloth and wrung it out, leaving it on the side of the tub, allowing me to do the rest.
Without a word, he rose and closed the door behind him.
Alone now, I pulled my legs up to my chest and rested my forehead on my knees, letting the warmth of the water ease the worst of my physical pain, all the while knowing it wasn’t the kind of warmth I needed. When the water began to lose its heat, I scrubbed my body twice more with maniacal vigor until the skin was red and sore. But no matter how hard I scrubbed, the blood of my friends could never be washed away. It was seared into my skin, etched deep into my soul, just as sure as Nate’s flames of penance were etched into his.
As new tears began to make their way down my cheeks, I got out of the tub and dried off, then ran my fingers through my hair to try to restore some semblance of order to the chaos enveloping me. There were no clean clothes awaiting me, of course, so I grabbed Nate’s bathrobe from the back of the door and pulled it on, wrapping it tightly around me.
When I came out of the bathroom, Nate was rummaging through his bureau drawers wearing nothing but black boxers. His own clothes, bloodied from his gentle care of me, had been added to the pile with mine.
My breath caught in my chest at the sight of him.
When he heard my gasp, Nate turned around and tossed his clean T-shirt aside as he came toward me. He didn’t say a word—just took my hand and pulled me into his arms, letting me hold on to him.
I closed my eyes and pressed my cheek against his bare chest, listening to the rhythmic pounding of his heart until mine kept time. Then I turned my face up to his, planning to offer an apology for intruding, a thank-you for his tenderness, but before I could utter a word, Nate’s lips were on mine, soft, warm, and as hungry for me as I was surprised to find I was for him.
There was no hesitancy this time, no uncertainty. Nate kissed me like a man on a mission, his lips demanding to know every secret, every mystery of my own. And he wasn’t about to be thwarted this time.
My fingers splayed out on his muscled back, holding him against me, letting him know that I was right there with him, that I needed the warmth of his body, that I wanted his skin pressed to mine.
A moment later, the bathrobe was on the ground and I got my wish.
His hands began to explore my body, questing and eager to know every curve, every hollow, but gentle and careful as he passed over the places where my pain still raged. At some point, his lips left mine to press a delicate kiss to the bruise on my cheek and jaw, then the mottled purple and green that had appeared on my shoulder, and the tender area along my ribs.
Now kneeling before me, he slowly smoothed his hands down my legs, then back up to brace my hips. I inhaled sharply when he pressed a kiss to the bruise there. And nearly collapsed when I felt the hot flick of his tongue on the sensitive skin between my thighs. The first wave of rapture came swiftly, making me buck against the heat of his mouth. I braced myself against his strong shoulders, letting each subsequent wave crash over me and wash away my agony.
Finally, eager to do a little exploring of my own, I took his face in my hands and drew him up. As he rose, I let my fingers glide along the intricate designs that marked his penance, giving in to my urge to follow where that mesmerizing conflagration led. My touch was light, teasing, and when I traced the flames along the inside of his thigh, his breath left him on a hiss.
I couldn’t help but offer him a teasing grin at the hold I had over him—both figuratively and literally. But my smugness was cut short when his mouth crashed down on mine in a frenzied renewal of the earlier conquest. He lifted me up, and I wrapped my arms and legs around him so he could carry me the few steps to his bed.
Nate tore back the comforter with one hand, then eased me down gently on the mattress, stretching out with me. The warmth I had known that day in the woods, had craved ever since, washed over me now in full force, making my head spin with dizzying desire. Nate drew away just enough to look down at me. I met his gaze, so loving and certain as he tenderly smoothed my hair away from my face, and I realized I could drown in those dark depths forever. I took his face in my hands and drew him back down. Then, in one smooth motion, he joined our bodies.
Our lovemaking was exactly that—not just sex, but the joining of two troubled hearts, the easing of two battered souls. I was surprised by how amazing it felt to be in Nate’s arms, to feel him inside me. I marveled at how perfectly right it felt as my hips rose to meet his. More surprising was that instead of feeling the usual urge to run far, far away and never look back, I reached for him, drew him to me, knowing I never wanted to let him go.
We moved together in unhurried rhythm, alternately devouring and savoring every moment of such perfect union. When one particularly hungry kiss ended, the full magnitude of what was happening between us hit me, stealing my breath and making my heart hammer in my chest with a mixture of fear and joy.
I was in love with Nate.
And it wasn’t just a girl’s first love, or a lust-fueled infatuation, or even the cautious love of one too afraid to follow where happiness might lead. This was the love of a woman whose heart had found its home.
Apparently sensing some change in me, Nate started to draw away, his expression darkening with concern. “Tess?” he asked warily, his brows knitting together in a deep frown. “Are you okay?”
By way of answer, I wrapped my legs around his waist, keeping him where he was, then kissed him with a passionate abandon that I’d never before dreamed possible.
At that moment, lying in Nate’s arms, our bodies joined, our skin pressed together, I was completely and utterly
happy
. And this time, there was no
almost
about it.

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