Embracing Midnight (14 page)

Dissenting voices began to echo in her brain, teasing and taunting. Against her will, an awful defilement had taken place, a hideous event nothing in life prepared her for. Gasping to catch her breath, she made a peculiar unfocused sound much like a sob. “I’ve been drugged.” Her palm flattened to her forehead.

And raped
, her mind filled in.

A fit of unexpected quaking overtook her. Fighting the mental quagmire of writhing snakes in her head, Callie concentrated her energies and struggled to center her thoughts. It
had
to be some sort of hallucinogen.

“It didn’t happen.” She ran her hands through her disheveled hair, then clenched them into tight fists. “It can’t be real.” Was she losing her mind? Gritting her teeth, she shook her head, struggling for control.

Feeling her disintegration, Callie bowed her head and massaged the ache in her temples. She swallowed, trying to breathe past the incredible lump in her throat. No other reasonable explanation made any sense.

Just when she believed she had a grasp on logical answers, everything changed.

Great clots of blackness rose before her eyes. She struggled to concentrate, forcing them back. More mysteries brooded beneath, behind that dark veil. Afraid her memory would falter into nothingness again, she shook her head, trying to orient herself. She was attacked from inside; her mouth flew open and her jaws gaped. The pictures in her mind wavered, began to dissolve. Through long, frightening minutes she saw naught; the wall in front of her faded into a dusky gray nothingness.

Something doesn’t want me to remember.

The realization disturbed the precarious control she held over her mind and body; the surging disparity left her alarmed. Her hands rose to cover her eyes, shutting out all light, all sight, as if by blocking her vision she could keep the memories inside her brain her own.

Weary, weak beyond belief, Callie sank to the floor. Her body stiffened. Jerked. She writhed in anguish, convulsing, and her body arched with the agonies of the strange invasion. Her head thrashed and her arms beat the air, defending herself against an enemy snaking its way into her skull. There was a low throbbing throughout her body, but it was all far away, held at bay by the voices reverberating around her. A sluggish groan rose to her ears, feeble and without objective, extended by the wheeze emanating from her mouth. Invisible fingers clawed at her, threatening to drag her back into the abyss of insensibility. She resisted, struggling to remain aware.

Moaning, she twitched, the feeling of abject helplessness only adding to her panic as her senses reeled. A chill seized her brain. Limbs out of control, she couldn’t rise to her feet. She became conscious of the beating of her own heart. The organ hammered inside her chest, a hollow, irregular rhythm. Her blood thrummed at a furious pace, pressing for release.

Her body went limp. She lay in a huddled mass, her strength all but gone. She swallowed, trying to breathe past the incredible pressure squeezing her throat.

Sick and tormented, she withdrew her mind into the deepest, darkest parts of her skull, where not even the soul dared to tread. Heavy with weariness, she surrendered to exhaustion. She was slipping away, almost insensible but holding on to awareness with what seemed to be her last wisps of strength.

Her eyes dropped shut, and she felt no emotion except muffled relief. She wanted to stay in this safe haven of darkness. Merging with the merciful womb of unconsciousness, she willingly gave herself to that sinister void where none could follow and cause her further distress.

C
allie sat on the floor, waiting. Positioned across from one of the burned-out windows, she watched as the sun sank lower on the horizon. Half of the fiery orb had already vanished. Another few minutes and total darkness would envelope the city.

She shifted to ease some of the numbness in her butt. She’d been sitting almost an hour, simply waiting. She’d wanted to arrive early, be in place before sunset. Not sure what would happen, if anything.

After she’d awakened from her second bout of unconsciousness, she’d done what any reasonable person would. Gotten the hell out.

As she’d suspected, the building was abandoned, condemned, according to the sign outside. Third floor gutted by fire and water damage, the entire structure was well beyond salvage, one of many on the block slated for the wrecking ball. Depopulation, property abandonment, crime, and a desolate and unfriendly landscape all added up to the need for an urban renewal program. Good people wanted out, and bad people wanted in.

Certainly, no one would think to look for vampires in a condemned building. Great place to hide. Brilliant, even.

If you believed in vampires.

Callie wasn’t sure she did. In fact, she still wasn’t sure she hadn’t dreamed, or hallucinated, the entire episode. There were plenty of powerful mind-altering drugs on the market, including Rohypnol, a popular “date rape” drug. A very potent tranquilizer with a sedative effect, amnesia, muscle relaxation, and slowing of psychomotor responses were just a few of the side effects. Completely colorless, odorless, tasteless. She remembered drinking wine. That shit must have been seriously spiked. Melting walls and fanged men seemed to belong more to a wild-ass psychedelic trip.

Logical and made sense. She’d heard about people seriously tripping on it. Blackouts, visual hallucinations—some people even believed they were able to fly. Why couldn’t she hallucinate vampires?

Except hallucinations didn’t leave bites on your neck.

She had two fresh sets. That made three bites in all. Weren’t people supposed to turn into vampires after three bites? She hoped not. That would mean she was dead. And she didn’t want to be dead. Even when she was cutting, death hadn’t been the goal. She’d just wanted to feel something other than numbness inside. Dead, she’d feel nothing. Dead, she’d be nothing.

Callie didn’t want to be nothing.

Maybe she was having a nervous breakdown and none of this existed at all. Maybe reality was really a padded cell and a straitjacket. Possible. Very possible. Mental instability ran in her bloodline. Would an insane person know or remember when they crossed the line between reality and fantasy? She’d inflicted damages on herself before. She’d thought she was past needing the pain. Maybe she wasn’t.

Trouble was, she wasn’t sure. But what did an insane person know? Nothing. Not a goddamned thing. Might as well start flicking at her lips with her fingers. Blub. Blub. Blub.

Okay. Stop it. Not funny. Not cute.

Shit. Now she had a headache. Her head hurt from thinking too much. Sometimes she couldn’t see the point of it.

Today was one of those days. Definitely.

Had to have been drugs.
But until she knew what was what, she wasn’t budging.

Leaving would have been the sane thing to do. The logical thing to do.

Callie felt neither sane nor logical. She wasn’t sure how she should feel, except that going was out of the question. Not yet. Her reality had somehow become blurred and something in her nature desperately needed to complete the connections between what she remembered and what she believed that she remembered.

She hadn’t strayed far from the old building. With her memory strangely unreliable, she didn’t want to leave the area. A tacky convenience store two blocks away had provided restroom breaks and she’d even talked the semicute clerk into a free cup of coffee and a candy bar. Not the best or most nutritious, but it filled her stomach. Casual questioning of the clerk revealed the building had burned at least a decade ago. Those brave or stupid enough to live in the area had been waiting at least that long for new construction to begin, but the city simply lacked the necessary funds. The decay continued and nobody cared anymore.

Armed with that little nugget, she’d spent the rest of her time exploring the building and napping. She’d found nothing indicating any sort of habitation. While not the best rest of her life, she’d found a quiet corner and dozed enough to take the edge off her fatigue.

She sipped from her coffee cup, swallowing down the last few ounces. “Come on, already,” she muttered in irritation. She tossed the empty container away. It landed with a hollow thunk, rolled a few inches, and stopped, joining her candy wrapper. A little more litter didn’t matter. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

The sun sank lower.

Darkness advanced, skimming along a junk-ridden back lot. The sky was layered: bright yellows, dazzling pinks, and blazing blue hues. Each grew a little less brilliant by the second, slowly vanishing under a deepening purple hue. A sprinkling of stars would bejewel the crisp, clear, late-summer sky.

Callie yawned and stretched. Though she’d left a text message for Norton briefly detailing further contact with Drake, she hadn’t given any clue of her whereabouts. She wasn’t ready to share her information yet.

Maybe not at all.

Shadows crept into the wrecked apartment. As they invaded the place, something utterly unexpected began to happen. Accompanied by the lightest flicker of a breeze, a strange distortion commenced. Shimmering golden light pulsed under the shadows, spreading over the ruin like the touch of Midas. For a moment ghostly images of the past connected with the present, seeming interposed over the wreckage.

Adrenaline searing her veins, Callie lunged to her feet. Her mouth dropped open, her words scarcely more than a choking gasp. “Holy Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.” For ten, maybe twenty seconds she considered running as the room clouded, thickening with the swirling lines of an oppressive force. Nothing in her training had prepared her to deal with supernatural phenomena.

The shimmering force spread out around her with blinding speed, eating up the rubble with incredible efficiency. She felt a touch then, something striking out like a blinding mental and physical blow. She faltered, felt the shove of a great strength slice straight through to her very bones. There was no time to run, no time to get out of the way.

Callie threw up an arm in front of her eyes, shielding her face from the oncoming rush of pure pulsing power.

A wash of illuminated sparks pummeled her back into the wall. She went perfectly still as a whirling vortex of images lit up around her. The force of an alien energy invaded her body, cutting through her like thousands of tiny sharp blades, unpleasant and invasive.

Callie felt the floor shift beneath her feet, felt ripped apart to the tiniest of atoms and reassembled, all in the space of seconds. Her breath caught in her throat, the sudden lack of oxygen threatening to strangle her. Too shocked to think clearly, she felt her knees give under her weight.

Unable to stay on her feet, she plopped down flat on her ass. Moaning in shock, she closed her eyes and tried to block the dizzying sensations flowing through every nerve ending.

Time slid away. Slowly, her agony receded.

Callie cracked open aching, swollen eyes and blinked. The splendor had returned, bright, beautiful, flawless. Trying to center herself and settle the acute nausea, she gazed around.

“This ain’t no wild tripping hallucination,” she muttered.

A shadowy movement caught the corner of her eye. Stiffening, she turned her head in time to see several shadows go streaking across the room. Apprehension flooded through her.

She wasn’t alone.

Chills scraped up her spine. She had the feeling she was being watched, felt the weight of many eyes boring down on her like laser beams. Yet every time she turned where she believed the stares were coming from, she saw little more than the shift of light displacing.

She swallowed, knotting her hands. “Iollan?”

No answer.

Shivering, Callie climbed to her feet. Rubbing her hands over her arms to still the rising goose bumps, she took a cautious step forward, then a few more. She swayed where she stood, bracing herself to keep from falling. The change from trash to treasure sure packed one hell of a physical wallop. Trying to shake the disorienting vertigo hampering her wits, she cautiously progressed. Uneasiness nagged.

The shadow shifted in front of her. The curtains veiling the canopied bed undulated as if touched by invisible hands. Shifting the curtains aside, she saw a white satin comforter and matching pillow shams. Sinful. And alluring.

Gaze settling on the bed, she felt hollowness trickle through her gut. It had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with desire. Wetness pooled between her thighs, the beginning of a throbbing ache of emptiness.

Without knowing why, she stroked her hand across the cool smoothness of the comforter. Waltzing in her mind’s eye the way flames might dance in the nearby hearth, a forbidden fantasy hovered on the horizon in her mind.

Her eyelids fluttered shut. A soft moan escaped her lips. She pictured herself lying on the bed, naked, waiting for the lover who would part the drapes.

A powerful arm banded her waist, tugging her into a male body even harder and more powerful. Legs and hips collided. A muscular chest pressed against her back. Warmth whispered across her nape. “You should have care when walking with shadows.”

A strange sense of familiarity flooded through her. Callie’s breath caught in her throat. Her body sparked in acute awareness of his frame pressing into hers. She knew Iollan’s touch, welcomed it. He felt like a rock wall, sturdy and powerful. She automatically adjusted herself to his contours, fitting their bodies together.

Salacious vibrations crackled along her nerve endings. She inhaled slowly, remembering his intimate touch, his passionate lovemaking. She felt the desire between them, untamed and fierce.

Closing her eyes, she sank into him. One of her hands slipped behind her, fingers digging into tight denim to urge him closer. Anticipation coiled around her heart, working its way to her most intimate warmth. Her breasts tingled, nipples tightening into little peaks.

She needed him. Wanted him, damn it. Her body was more than ready, suddenly aching for fulfillment. At the moment she didn’t give a damn about anything other than his hot body on those cool sheets.

Head tilting slightly, Callie offered the vulnerable softness of her neck. “I don’t know what you’re doing to me, but it’s driving me crazy.”

His arm was an iron band, preventing her from moving. Instead of a hungry mouth ravaging her skin, something cold and solid pressed against her temple. “Forgive me, Calista.”

Callie’s eyes snapped open. Dark metal glinted near the corner of her eye. Realizing his intent, fear jetted through her veins. She writhed, scratching at the arm locked around her waist.

Iollan released her.

Trapped by the bed, she tumbled face forward onto the mattress. She whipped over onto her back, raising her weight up on her elbows. Her mouth dropped open.

Iollan stood a few feet away, overwhelming her with his presence. His big frame filled her vision. The power he radiated was that of pure malice. The gun in his hand was pointed straight at her forehead. His stern lips held the shadow of disdain.

Every fiber in Callie’s body tightened like a wound spring. She quelled the instinct to try and get away. Run, and he would overtake her. Run, and he would shoot her down like a rabid dog. Iollan Drake had killed before. And, she realized, he intended to kill again.

Mesmerized, obsessed, and terrified all at the same time, she gulped to catch her breath, steady the hammering of her heart. Her blood pounded so fiercely behind her temples that she found it impossible to think straight. She’d known it was possible he’d take her down. Some part of her had hoped that wouldn’t be the case. That part was, apparently, mistaken.

Eyes chilling to a subzero temperature, he leveled his gaze. The gun in his hand didn’t waver. “Surprised?”

Damn. How did this happen?

Just crazy.

And definitely not any drug this time.

Forcing herself to focus, she glared. Unfortunately visual daggers weren’t deadly. “Surprise isn’t the emotion I’m feeling right now,” she grated. “Nice to know you were going to fuck me over without giving me a kiss this time.”

He eyed her from head to foot, sprawled across the bed in a position normally very pleasant for a man to see. His look was intimate, probing. Hungry. His lips curled with a sly sensuality. “Fuck you? I thought about doing that first. I love humans. You’re so gullible and so easy to manipulate when your hormones are skipping around.”

Callie immediately clamped her knees shut. “Fat chance.”

Iollan shrugged. “My loss. Though I’ll admit it was clever of your people to send in a woman this time. I almost didn’t guess you were an agent. You should have had the sense to stay away.”

Icy fingers wrapped around her spine. She licked dry lips, but didn’t argue. No sense in denying it, trying to keep the game going. “How long have you known?”