Dark Obsession (13 page)

His hand slid between them and closed over her breast. Erin gasped, frightened by the erotic sensations racing through her. Her hand flew up to grasp his wrist. She tore her mouth from his. “Don’t,” she said breathlessly.

“What’s the matter? The fire getting too hot for you?” His mouth was only an inch from hers. Erin knew he could claim her again whenever he wanted. And she knew she wouldn’t be able to resist. Her hand trembled on his wrist.

“It’s too soon,” she protested.

“You’re wrong. It’s almost too late,” he warned, his voice husky. “In another minute—”

Erin’s heart was pounding so loudly she thought for a moment he’d heard it. He was pulling away from her, however, and dimly she became aware of another noise. The telephone was ringing.

A change came over him swiftly. He straightened, looking at once dark and dangerous and in control. He looked as if the past few moments hadn’t occurred at all. “I left this number with the station,” he said. “It’s probably for me.”

Erin’s heart was still beating against her breast. Butterflies danced in her stomach, and her lips felt bruised and swollen and aching for more of his kisses.
Shaken by the sensations, she watched as he strode across the room and jerked up the receiver. He listened for a minute or two, his expression growing even darker, and when he hung up the phone, Erin knew something else had happened. Something bad.

“What is it?”

“Maybe now you’ll listen to reason,” he said slowly, walking toward her. “Maybe now you’ll leave.”

“What’s happened?” she asked. The lingering excitement in her stomach turned to fear.

He gazed at her, his emotions hidden. “There’s been another killing.”

CHAPTER NINE

S
lade took Erin with him. There was no way he was going to leave her behind again. Not until daylight, at least. He parked on Fifth Avenue near two patrol cars with flashing lights, and together he and Erin got out. Without a word, they walked through the Washington Arch, toward the group of people huddled near the center of the square.

He glanced down at Erin. What was she thinking? he wondered. What was this doing to her after what she had been through?

Suddenly he wanted more than anything to reach out to her, to draw her into his arms and protect her against the darkness out there, the evil that had touched her life. But how could he? He was a part of that evil, and no matter how many books she wrote, Erin could never really understand what it was like to live in complete darkness, the way Slade had to live.

As if sensing his despair, she touched his sleeve, and he looked down at the smooth, unmarred flesh of her hand. Her face was pale, her eyes frightened. “Nick, I don’t think—”

He nodded in understanding. “Wait here,” he said,
then strode through the darkness toward the crime scene. The crowd of officers parted as he approached.

Slade stared down at the body for a moment, the feeling of dread tightening like a noose around his neck. He knew her. He knew the victim. He’d seen her at the club. He’d warned her away, just as he had the others.

Outwardly impassive, Slade knelt and tilted the young woman’s head. Two trickles of blood ran down her neck and back into her hair. Her eyes were closed, but he remembered how they had looked in life, and he knew how they would look if she opened them again in death. He would have to get her to the morgue as quickly as possible. He would have to see to it that she couldn’t come back.

Slade lifted his head, listening to the night, to the wind rustling through the trees. The breeze, he thought. The breeze felt the way it had the night Megan Ramsey had died.

And the night Simone had died.

From a distance, Erin watched Nick as he knelt and examined the body. A shudder ripped through her as she remembered another night, another body. Megan, she silently implored, help us find him. Help us stop him.

Overhead the wind stirred in the trees, and Erin shivered. It sounded like whispers, she thought. Like the moans of despair from a thousand restless souls.

She remembered when she and Megan were little
how their mother had told them about the bodies buried beneath Washington Square. “Thousands,” Desiree had said, “waiting to come up and grab little girls like you who don’t listen to their mothers.”

Even the simple, childish pleasure of playing outdoors had been taken from her because whenever Erin had entered Washington Square, all she could think about were the thousands of bodies upon whose graves she trod. She could feel those invisible eyes watching her, waiting for her to disobey her mother. She could almost feel their arms reaching up through the earth to grab her and take her back down with them.

We’ve been waiting for you, Erin.

Erin shivered at the voice inside her head. Eyes were watching her now, she thought. Hands were reaching for her, but the darkness hid them. The darkness hid all things that didn’t want to be seen, didn’t want to be revealed.

Mist twisted and coiled in the wind, giving the whole scene a strange movement. Erin’s legs grew unstable and she swayed, as light-headed as if she were standing on the prow of a ship. She reached out for support, but found nothing but air.

Erin.

At first Erin thought Nick was calling to her, and she felt an enormous wave of relief flood over her. But through the darkness, she saw that he remained near the body as the officer nearest him continued to
talk to him. She’d only imagined someone had called her. The wind was playing tricks on her—

Errinn!

Erin whipped around, searching the night. There it was again, that plaintive call that clawed at her heart. “Megan.” She whispered the name out loud, but the wind tore away the sound. It was so cold out here, so silent. Erin could almost hear the sound of her heart thumping. Wasn’t it her own heart she heard?

The rhythmic beating echoed off the wall of mist, so loud now that Erin had to cover her ears with her hands. A thousand hearts pounded beneath her, clamoring for her to come to them, to join their dark ranks. Over and over again they chanted her name.
Erin. Erin. Erin.

She lowered her hands from her ears and whispered again, “Megan? Where are you?”

I’m here, Erin. Don’t leave me. Don’t ever leave me again.

The voice was real this time. No longer inside her head, it swept down through the trees and penetrated Erin’s soul. Erin turned, searching the darkness. “Where?”

This way.

As if in a daze, Erin started walking toward the street, toward a shadowy courtyard at the side of a redbrick building. A movement in the enclosure caught her eye. A figure stood at the fringes of the
darkness, tantalizing Erin with hardly more than a glimpse. “Megan?”

“We’ve been waiting for you, Erin.” Another voice this time. A dark, male voice, liquid with seduction.

A dangerous languor slipped over her. Erin tried to fight it, tried to resist, but she knew deep inside she couldn’t. She’d known all along. Try as she might to ward off the monsters, she’d always known that it was only a matter of time before they would come for her.

Before she would join them.

You belong to us, Erin. You’ve always belonged to us. Come. Your sister is waiting for you.

Erin took another step toward that voice. For just a moment, a cloud blocked the moon, casting the earth in complete blackness. Then it moved away, and moonlight spilled across the square, silvering the mist with a soft, sterling glow. Closer and closer Erin drew toward that place of shadows, to the darkness that lay beyond…and to that beckoning figure that spoke to her soul.

“Erin, no!”

“Let me go!” She tried to shake away the hand that held her arm, but the grip tightened. She looked up into Slade’s hidden gaze. “Didn’t you hear her?” she asked desperately. “Didn’t you hear her calling to me?”

“Hear who?” Slade’s fingers dug into her arm
when she didn’t answer. “Hear who, Erin? Answer me, damn it! What’s the matter with you?”

“I don’t know.” Her head was clearing now. She lifted a shaking hand to her temple. “I feel so…strange…so weak.”

He was holding both her arms, gripping her so tightly that panic bubbled to life inside her. “Tell me what you heard,” he demanded in a voice that made shivers run up and down her spine. “Tell me exactly what you heard.”

Tell him nothing!

And at that moment, Erin understood exactly why she couldn’t tell him. Why she couldn’t leave New York. Her sister was here, no matter what Nick said. And together they—she and Megan—would find Megan’s killer.

* * *

Erin was quiet on the way home, and strangely calm. Slade cast her a worried glance. What was she thinking? What was she feeling? She seemed so…different.

As if reading his thoughts, Erin turned and met his gaze. She was smiling a little half smile that made his blood run cold. She didn’t look like Erin at all. She looked like Megan. Like Simone.

“What happened back there?” he asked suddenly into the silence. “What did you see?”

“Nothing.”

“You said you heard Megan calling to you.”

“Megan’s dead,” she said. There was nothing in her voice that gave away her emotion—no hint of grief, just that awful calm, that terrible acceptance.

“Erin—”

“Don’t worry about me, Nick. I’ll be fine. I know what to do now.”

“What do you mean?”

She smiled again. “You’ve told me often enough. I’ll keep my windows and doors locked. I won’t invite anyone inside.”

She said the right words, but Slade still felt chilled. “No one,” he reiterated. “That’s crucial, Erin.”

“Yes, I realize that now.”

Where was the fear he’d witnessed earlier? The panic he’d seen in her eyes? With something of a shock, Slade realized that she was actually humming softly to herself, a little singsong tune that seemed hauntingly familiar. What had happened back there? he asked himself desperately. What the hell had happened?

He pulled up in front of her apartment and walked her to the door. He went in with her, searching the apartment as he always did before he left. “It’s almost dawn,” he said. “You’ll be safe now.”

“Yes,” she agreed, “I’ll be safe.”

But there was something in her eyes….

Slade hated to leave her. He felt an almost overwhelming compulsion to draw her into his arms and hold her tightly, until the sun was shining all around
them. But he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t face the sunlight, even for Erin.

He bent suddenly, urgently, and brushed his lips against hers. She clung to him only for a moment, but her response was oddly reassuring. She trailed her fingertips across his cheeks, skirting the bottom of his glasses. “Don’t worry, Nick,” she said again. “I know what to do.”

That’s what worries me, he thought grimly.

* * *

“I’ve got to tell her.”

“You know you can’t. It would be disastrous.”

Slade glared down at Delaney from across the commissioner’s desk. It was dawn outside, and Slade had to get home before the sun came out full force. His eyes couldn’t withstand the light, not for any length of time. He was cutting it close, coming here this late, but he’d had no choice. He’d stayed outside Erin’s apartment until just a few minutes ago because he didn’t dare leave her alone, especially not after the strange way she was acting. At least now he knew she would be safe—for twelve more hours. Until sunset.

His temper exploded when he thought about the danger she was in. And it was all because of him. Because he couldn’t be honest with her. “Damn it, I’ve got to tell her.” He slammed his fist against the commissioner’s desk. “How else can I make her realize the danger she’s in? She already suspects, anyway.
She couldn’t write the books she writes if she didn’t already believe, whether she knows it or not.”

“Nick,” the commissioner began in a calm, rational voice. Tall, lean, impeccably dressed, Thomas Delaney could be infuriatingly rational. He leaned back in his chair and eyed Slade speculatively. “Let’s not lose sight of our objective here. Don’t forget the oath we all took. We can’t reveal the Mission or its purpose to anyone. If the citizens out there found out what we’re dealing with, there would be mass hysteria. Civilization as we know it could crumble, and we would have no way to prevent it. You can’t tell her, Nick. You can’t tell anyone.”

“Then how the hell am I supposed to protect her? She won’t leave until her sister’s killer is caught, and I can’t be sure she won’t be his next target.”

“She hasn’t gone to that club yet,” the commissioner observed. “That place seems to be the link with the other victims. Except for the old man, of course. And from what you told me, he was the girl’s kill.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Slade asked darkly. “There’s another link. Another reason why those girls were killed.”

“Meaning you.”

“Meaning me. And that’s all the more reason why I need to be honest with Erin. Believe me, she can handle it.”

“We can’t take that chance and you know it. Especially
not with someone like her. She already has notoriety because of her books. If she went public with this, it could be the end of the Mission. The end of everything we’ve worked so hard to accomplish. We’d all be declared insane. Or worse,” he said dryly.

“There are other things to consider here,” Slade said angrily. “We’re talking about Erin Ramsey’s life.”

“I’m counting on you to keep her safe.”

“Like I did Simone?”

A flicker of pain crossed the commissioner’s stoic expression. “That wasn’t your fault,” he said softly.

“But Simone is still dead,” Slade said bitterly. “Because I couldn’t protect her.”

What if he couldn’t protect Erin? What if he lost her to the darkness, too? He’d already lost
his
soul. How could he survive knowing that she had lost hers, too?

CHAPTER TEN

E
rin slept until nearly four o’clock the next day, but her rest was plagued with dreams about her sister. In the dream, she and Megan were walking together in some sort of dimly lit tunnel when suddenly the path split into two different trails. One way held complete darkness. But rather than being frightening, the blackness exuded a kind of mystical excitement, a subtle beauty only visible to the discerning eye.