Touch of Madness (13 page)

“Ms. Reilly, you don’t know me, but I’m Edgar Simms. I’ve left some messages on your machine. I’m sorry to interrupt, but when I saw you here, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.” He smiled, and it was both subtly smug and predatory.

I shook his hand. After all, he was my brother Joe’s ultimate boss. It wouldn’t hurt to be nice. At least that’s what I told myself. “Doctor Simms, this is Tom Bishop, he’s a firefighter here in Denver.”

“Mr. Bishop, it is a pleasure.” Simms shook Tom’s hand and smiled, but immediately turned his attention back to me. Tom was watching him with wary eyes, and I didn’t blame him. I really wished I hadn’t left my weapons at home. I probably could have managed to fit one arm sheath under the jacket if I’d tried.

“Ms. Reilly, I know your reputation. You do not know mine.” He smiled to take the sting out of the words. It wasn’t sincere, but it was definitely pretty. His dentist had done a fine job on an expensive set of caps.

“Which is?” Tom kept his face completely bland, but there was an energy, a tension in the way he held himself, that was a warning.

“I am not used to being refused.”

Why doesn’t that surprise me? I bit my tongue so I didn’t say it out loud, but Tom blinked, as though he’d heard the thought. Maybe he had.

“And what is Kate refusing you?” The warning wasn’t hidden this time. It was there in the almost growling quality Tom’s voice had taken on.

Dr. Simms didn’t flinch. He did, however, raise an eyebrow in surprise. Still, he answered the question. “Bryan Reilly is the first Eden zombie ever to make even a partial recovery. Doctors from all over the world have been clamoring for the opportunity to work with him. But I’ve read the police report filed by Detective Brooks. I believe that Bryan’s recovery is directly tied to her psychic abilities. Studying one without the other would be pointless.”

“I participated in one of your studies once.” I kept my voice polite, but it took more effort than I would’ve liked to admit. “It didn’t work out well.”

Dr. Simms gave a polite, manufactured chuckle, but his eyes hardened to chips of blue ice. “Quite the understatement.”

I shrugged.

“Kate—”

“Ms. Reilly, if you please.” I hadn’t told him he could call me Kate, and I realized, when he said it, that it bugged me. I’d only just met the man, and already I didn’t like him. He struck me as being a well-bred, well-heeled bully. I don’t like bullies.

“Of course… Ms. Reilly. I can understand your reluctance. But I am in a position to do you a service. You currently have criminal charges regarding destruction of hospital property worth thousands of dollars.”

I sighed. Who’d have known the damned incubator would be so expensive? By pouring alcohol into the system I had damaged it irreparably. I couldn’t honestly say I was sorry. I wasn’t. But I really did hate the fact that I was probably going to have to pay for it. I might even have to go to jail. Although I was pretty sure that most jurors would be on my side in this one, particularly if they got to see the video.

“I can see to it that those charges are dropped if you would be willing to cooperate.”

“I doubt that. Only the DA can make that determination. It’s not your choice to make.”

We stared at each other, neither of us blinking until I felt the weight of Tom’s hand on mine.

“Dr. Simms.” Tom spoke softly, but there was a weight behind the words. Simms turned to meet Tom’s gaze. Whatever he saw there made his back stiffen, and his jaw thrust stubbornly forward. Still, the words Tom spoke were completely polite and utterly mild. “Ms. Reilly and I came here for a quiet… private luncheon. If you don’t mind, we really would like to get back to it.”

“Of course.” Simms gave Tom the kind of nod you would give an opponent in a fencing match. “But I would like to leave you with this thought, Ms. Reilly. I have more than just business motives for pursuing this. My daughter Melinda is an Eden zombie. I would, will, do anything to bring her back.” He turned to Tom, his voice hard. “I’ll leave the two of you to your private luncheon.”

He stalked off, his back rigid beneath the elegant suit.

“Well, he certainly knows how to ruin a mood, doesn’t he?” Tom observed.

“Yes indeed,” I agreed.

“And did you see whose table he sat down at?”

I turned, following Tom’s gaze, and began swearing softly under my breath. Dr. Simms was just pulling up a chair to join P. Douglas Richards and Lewis Carlton. Even if Tom hadn’t recognized Richards, nobody can miss Carlton in a crowd.

The waiter arrived. Tom ordered lobster. I chose rare steak. Neither was a particularly “Italian” dish, but we’d had lasagna the night before. At first I had my back to Carlton and company, but I just couldn’t stand it. So, as subtly as I could manage, I shifted seats, moving one over, so that I was both closer to Tom and had a better than peripheral view of their table. Tom noticed, but didn’t comment.

We didn’t talk much during the salad course. We were both too distracted and tense. Fortunately, they were getting ready to leave before our main course arrived. When Carlton stood to leave, he looked full at me…and winked before deliberately stretching up his arms to put on his winter jacket. He must not be trying to impress today or he wouldn’t bother with the jacket. Tom got a relatively close look at the sheer size of him as his hand flattened briefly on the overhead ceiling beam, and understanding dawned.

“Damn, but that’s a big man.”

I nodded, even though his eyes were still locked on the former NBA star. “A big host.”

“Shit. Unarmed he would’ve killed you. Hell, even if you were armed he probably would.”

“But I’d hurt him first. Maybe snap off one of those pearly white teeth.” I sipped my water, knowing it was true. I’d learned back during my last adventure with the Thrall that breaking off one or both feeding tubes, which drop down behind the human’s eye teeth after the parasite attaches to the spinal cord, can stun the parasite. It can even cause enough shock to kill it.

Tom’s expression softened. He turned, his eyes meeting mine. There was pride in that look, and a little possessiveness. “You bet your ass.”

The waiter came with our food and poured the wine. I took a sip from my glass. It was excellent. Until I started dating Tom I’d never been much for wine, or any other alcohol. But he liked wine with meals, and was enjoying introducing me to new vintages. As time went by I found I was enjoying the taste of it. I’d never be a connoisseur, not by a long shot. But I was starting to get a handle on what kinds of wine went best with different sorts of food. The waiter bowed his way away from the table, leaving us to our meal.

The steak was excellent. I was grateful. So often, because of health issues, they overcook the meat. From the first bite I could tell it was perfect, tender, juicy, just the way I like it. I savored the taste in my mouth, and followed it with a sip from my wine glass. It was almost enough to drive away the tension of having run into Dr. Simms and the others. Almost.

“The problem,” I spoke softly, so that only Tom would hear, “is that I can’t keep backing down, or they’ll rule me. Now that they have someone I’m intimidated by, they’ll use him every time they want something. I won’t live like that.”

Tom’s fork stopped halfway to his mouth. “So what are you going to do?”

I shrugged. “I haven’t got a clue. Any suggestions would be welcome.”

“Let me think on it for a bit.”

We shared a slice of double chocolate fudge cake with ice cream for dessert. Tom’s not nearly as big a chocolate fan as I am, but he’d been willing to indulge me. We didn’t linger after the meal. Both of us had other things we needed to do.

We parted with another kiss in front of the door to the restaurant and a promise of dinner at home tonight. Tom had a meeting to attend down at the station. I needed to go to the bank and deposit the money from the Thrall and the check Mary had given me. After that I would take a trip down to Our Lady of Perpetual Hope and deliver my apology to Mike in person, and maybe talk to him a little about things. He gives great advice, even if I don’t always follow it.

9

« ^ »

The rain had slowed until it was little more than heavy mist. I walked to the bank, staying mostly under the cover of store awnings, hurrying across the streets with the lights, always careful not to break my neck, or twist my knee again. Wet pavement and high heels are a recipe for disaster as far as I’m concerned. I know there are women who do just fine. I’m not one of them.

The nearest branch of my bank was on the first floor of one of the office towers. I’d come to this same building many times for work purposes as well. One of my best former clients, a jewelry designer and gem buyer, had an office on the tenth floor. A part of me still missed Morris Goldstein, despite the fact he’d gone host and had tried to capture me for Monica.

But more than that, I missed all the other people involved with my Tel Aviv runs. From Getty Friedman, the old Jewish cutter who was a flirt, to Marta, the receptionist here in Denver. I’d lost a lot of people the day I fought Monica—more than just those who’d died, and there was no bringing them back. It reminded me forcibly that I needed to get back to work—the sooner the better. The longer I was out of the game, the more likely my customers would be permanently snapped up by the competition. I’d worked too hard to build my client base to have to start again from scratch. And…I missed my old life. A lot.

“Can I help you?” The bank teller brought my attention back to the present. While I’d been daydreaming, the line had moved forward until it was now my turn.

“Yes, thank you.” I smiled and went to the open space at the counter, sliding the deposit slip across the desk to her.

“I want to make a deposit.”

“And how would you like your cash back?”

“Small bills, please.”

She counted out my cash, putting it into a bank envelope with the deposit ticket before handing it back to me.

“Is there a phone where I can call a cab?”

“You can use the one at reception if you want, but there are always cabs waiting at the hotel across the street.”

Of course there were. That made perfect sense. I felt stupid for not having thought of it myself. “Thank you. I’ll catch one there.”

By the time the cab dropped me off at the church, the rain had stopped altogether. Bright sunlight speared through the clouds and a breathtaking rainbow arched through the sky. I closed my eyes, making a wish the way my mother had taught me.

Rob and Bryan were outside, playing catch, heedless of the muddy grass. In that moment, my brother looked absolutely normal, the sunlight catching the red and gold of his hair until it shone. He was laughing, his handsome features open and happy. My heart lurched in my chest and I remembered for an instant how it used to be before the drugs took him. I wanted that back, so badly I ached from the wanting. But the chances of it were worse than slim. Not impossible. I believe in miracles. But we’d already had one miracle. No other Eden zombie had ever recovered even this much. I should be grateful, and was…but still, I couldn’t help but wish for more.

“Hey, Kate!” Rob called out with a wave.

Bryan turned around to see and missed catching the ball completely. It bounced past him to stop at my feet. I squatted down to pick it up for him. When I rose, I looked up, and for the first time saw what he was wearing. It was a black hooded sweatshirt from back when he’d played baseball in high school. It had the imprint that read

“Our Lady of Perpetual Hope.” It had a tiger. But it was not the same logo as when I’d been in school. This tiger had a paw sticking up.

Sometimes it is better to be lucky than good. I had a flash of insight and just suddenly knew who else would have a shirt like this; who would steal Monica’s eggs if she could. My stomach lurched, and my lunch moved restlessly at the thought.

Amanda.

I remembered the last time I’d seen her. It had been in my apartment, after Monica had died, taking the hive with her.

Amanda slid her fingers into the metal guides of the massive veterinary needle and held out her other arm, where I could see a string of puncture wounds in a trailing line below her elbow. “I thought so, too, but there’s another way. It wasn’t easy to figure out how, but I’ve got the technique down. Once you’re a queen, you’ll be alone. All alone, like Monica was. Will you go insane? Or will you turn all your friends? What will you do to survive, Kate? Monica told me that not everything goes away. You’ll remember them. You’ll know what you’ve done, but you won’t be able to stop yourself.”

My heart was beating like a triphammer. She was insane. What the hell had she done to herself?

“Kate, are you all right?” Mike’s words jerked me back to the present like a lifeline. He and Rob had joined us. I hadn’t seen them move. I think Armageddon could’ve started in the couple of minutes when I had that brainstorm and I wouldn’t have noticed it.

“When did they change the mascot logo of the school? The crouching one?” I asked Mike as I pointed to the symbol on Bryan’s chest.

“The year after you graduated. Why?”

Amanda was in Mary’s class, a year behind me. She was a cheerleader, a gymnast, and played varsity softball. She would’ve bought a letter jacket and the school warm-ups, just like the rest of us.

“Ka-tie?” Bryan’s voice was a deep baritone, but the tone was somehow childlike. It wasn’t the voice itself, but the phrasing he used, the little break between the first and second syllables of my name.

“I’m right here, Bryan. I’m just thinking.”

Rob let out a low growl. “You’re thinking at them, aren’t you?”

“No. Just thinking.” I tried to keep my voice neutral when I said it. Rob’s a friend, but he’s a werewolf, one of Tom’s pack mates. I really couldn’t expect him to be reasonable about the Thrall, despite championing me with the pack. I didn’t think Rob knew about my working for the Thrall, but I hadn’t told Mike it was a secret. Stupid of me; I should have. Because working with the Thrall was bound to piss off all the wolves, and that was a complication I really didn’t need in my life right now.