Silk Over Razor Blades (22 page)

‘No.’ Her voice became
small.

‘Stay away from that detective.
Go to Ramona’s house. I’ll be there in two hours.’

‘Daddy, please—’

‘Do it, Lenina.’ The use of her
full name stole her breath. ‘Text me when you get there.’

The phone buzzed then died.
Lenina crammed the phone into her bag and ran from the room. As she
reached the top of the stairs a heavy hand knocked twice at the
front door. She froze.

Tristen stepped into view,
hastily tying his hair back before pulling the door open. Huddled
on the step, shoulders hunched against the rain, Detective Thorne
nodded a grim greeting. He pushed his way through. Beneath his suit
jacket, greasy stains formed a trail beside his tie. A missing
button on his off-white shirt left a large gap, through which a
patch of pale, flabby stomach was visible.

He shuffled his feet on the
carpet and shoved his hands into his pockets. ‘Where is she?’

Tristen glanced towards the
stairs, his eyes widening when he saw her poised on the top step.
When Thorne followed suit, his gaze touched her injured left cheek
then slid away. ‘Miss Miller, I know you’re frightened but you
can’t stay here. Gather your things and I’ll take you to one of our
safe houses.’

She saw Tristen lower his face
to his hands, rubbing his jaw with the tips of his fingers.

‘My dad is on the way.’

‘Good. Once we get there you
can tell him you’re safe but he won’t be able to visit you straight
away.’

Lenina felt a small measure of
comfort in that thought. When Jason found her again, at least her
family would be safe.

‘I’m ready.’

‘Great, let’s go. Excuse us,
Tristen.’

The younger man frowned. ‘What
about the murder?’

Thorne shifted from foot to
foot and fiddled with the knot of his tie. ‘I’ll handle it for
now.’

‘Why? What’s wrong?’

‘I didn’t want to do this
here,’ he murmured, gaze flicking briefly up the stairs. His voice
lowered. ‘Chief Hobb knows what you did. You’re suspended until he
has a chance to speak with you.’

Tristen’s hands formed
trembling fists at his sides. He glared at his partner before
dragging his coat off a hook near the bottom step. ‘You’re not
leaving here without me.’

‘Don’t make this any
worse.’

‘You’re not taking her.’

Shaking his head, Thorne nudged
him aside. ‘Goodnight, Tristen. Let’s go, Miss Miller.’

Lenina followed. As she passed,
Tristen snagged her hand and held it tight. She squeezed back and
tried to continue, but he didn’t let go. Instead he stepped
forward, swung her behind him. Standing between her and the way out
he stopped with his arms folded.

‘What’s wrong with you?’ Thorne
snapped. All traces of sympathy and patience fled his voice. ‘Don’t
be an idiot.’

‘Leave now, Brad. Walk
away.’

‘You know I can’t do that.’

‘Just go. I won’t offer
again.’

Grunting, Thorne clamped his
hand down on Tristen’s shoulder to drag him aside, but the younger
man ducked and twisted away. He gripped his own fist and drove
forward with his elbow, slamming the hard angle of bone into
Thorne’s face. A strident crack preceeded the thud of Thorne’s
knees hitting the carpet. Then his shriek cut off everything
else.

Lenina had time to see blood
gush from his nostrils before Tristen attacked again, leading with
his knee. It struck Thorne in the chin, snapping his head back. His
teeth clicked together. More blood flew from his mouth. The big man
slumped on to the carpet. Tristen stepped clear of his writhing
body the same way he might avoid a muddy puddle. He dragged Lenina
back into the living area and pushed her into an armchair. She
moved with him, too stunned to object, though her gaze slid past
him when Thorne stumbled in after them clutching his bloody
nose.

‘Leave,’ said Tristen. He
didn’t look back. ‘Please. I’ll deal with you later but you have to
go.’

‘
Deal with me
?’ The
words slurred. Thorne’s voice was thick with clots of blood.
‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning walk out of here while
your legs still work.’

Growling, Thorne launched
forward. He caught Tristen by waist and pulled him to the ground.
The pair rolled across the carpet, locked together in a tangle of
flailing arms and legs.

‘Stop!’ Lenina circled them,
trying to find a way in. She looked at Tristen, then Thorne,
twisting her fingers. Her hands jerked towards one man then the
other.

Neither of them needed help. In
a display of grace and strength that belied his age, Thorne shoved
his feet into Tristen’s stomach. The younger man flew back,
skidding across the carpet and rolling into the back of the sofa.
Thorne lurched to his feet. Lifting his fisted hands before his
face, he balanced his weight on the balls of his feet.

Lenina stepped forward.

‘Stay back, Miss Miller.’ A
bubble of pink-tinged spittle frothed from Thorne’s mouth as he
spoke. He spat a tooth on to the carpet.

She backed off, pressing her
back to the wall near the arch to the kitchen.

Tristen bounded to his feet. He
did it with a flip like a break dancer and huffed a wisp of hair
out of his face. He had a line of blood on his chin. ‘Not bad.
Finished?’

‘Screw you,’ Thorne hissed.

‘Wrong answer.’ Then he moved,
an incredible blur of speed that Lenina barely managed to
follow.

Tristen’s leg flashed up, heel
cocked, knee locked. The side of his foot caught Thorne in the
chest, then again in the chin, knocking his head back with stunning
force. Once more Thorne hit the floor, straight down like a felled
tree. This time he didn’t move.

Lenina swallowed and tasted
bile. ‘You’re crazy,’ she whispered. ‘Detective Thorne?’

A low moan.

She rushed to him, kneeling on
the floor by his face. Warm blood slicked her fingers when she
touched his cheek. For once the urge to taste it was absent; she
felt nothing but revulsion and fear.

‘Are you okay? Can you
stand?’

‘Broken ribs,’ Tristen
murmured. ‘Probably punctured lungs too; he’s not going anywhere.’
He crouched beside Thorne’s groaning form with his hands dangling
between his knees. ‘I warned you, Brad. We could have avoided all
of this. Believe it or not, I need you. We work well together.’

Lenina stared at Tristen as
though she had never seen him before. Perhaps she hadn’t. Though
his green eyes were the same, and his breath still smelled of
peppermint, his expression matched nothing she’d seen on his face
so far. It was fury mingled with frustration and weariness.

He rubbed his hands over his
jaw then leaned close to the other man’s chest. ‘You’re dying. I
can hear your lungs filling up. I shouldn’t have kicked you so
hard, I wasn’t exaggerating when I said I needed you.’

Thorne coughed. Blood ran down
his chin.

‘I can’t always measure it with
humans. You’re all so frail.’

Lenina stiffened. Through the
wet bubbling of Thorne’s laboured breathing she heard Tristen’s
words again and felt a shudder, like the cold dabble of clammy
fingers down her spine. While Tristen stared at his dying partner,
Lenina stood and inched towards the door. She stepped into the
hallway just as he called out to her.

‘Don’t run, Lenina.’

She bolted. Skidding to a stop
at the front door, Lenina grabbed the handle and jerked it open.
Rain slanted in to meet her, cold and heavy. Through the gap she
saw Tristen’s car and another marked car, complete with blue and
white lights on the top. She caught sight of the empty street and
the grey-black sky before the door jerked free of her grip and
slammed shut.

Several loud clicks signalled
the locks sliding magically into place. She tried the handle. The
door didn’t move. The sound of footsteps made her turn.

‘I said, “Don’t run.”’ Tristen
blocked the hallway behind her.

She pressed her back to the
door. ‘What are you?’

‘You know. Why else would you
run?’ He smiled and, as she watched, the emerald green of his eyes
faded away beneath a blinding flash of white. She shrieked and
rushed at him. Wide eyes and grasping hands told her he hadn’t
expected that. Ducking beneath his grip, she darted towards the
sitting area, spinning round as she passed through the door. A
fractional pause, then she slammed it shut on his advancing face.
She heard the shout and the satisfying thunk as it hit him in the
nose and she used the precious seconds saved to hurdle Thorne’s
body and dash through the arch into the kitchen. She yanked open a
drawer near the sink. Inside lay a selection of tea towels, place
mats and sponges. Whimpering, she tried the next drawer. This one
held cutlery, including a butcher’s knife the blade of which
gleamed in the half-light.

Before she could close her
fingers around it, a hand cupped the back of her head and shoved
her face down. The granite worktop rushed up to meet her. Pain
exploded through her face, spiralling outward from her nose and
forehead. The kitchen swam across her vision.

Lenina slithered to the floor,
cradling her face in both hands. She heard rather than saw Tristen
moving around her.

‘You made this so much harder
than it needed to be.’ His voice remained low and steady.

Nauseated, she clutched her
stomach and tried to steady the sensation of flip-flopping that
came from the taste of her own blood. After two attempts she
managed to open her eyes. An additional three seconds allowed her
to focus. ‘Stay away from me.’

When he crouched next to her,
forearms resting on his knees, she wondered if Thorne had felt the
same level of confusion and anger she did in that moment.

Tristen’s eyes were green
again, and his gaze wandered over her body, lingering on her left
cheek. She tried to stand.

‘I wouldn’t do that yet if I
were you.’

She ignored him. Gritted her
teeth. Leaned against the cupboards and shoved herself into a
kneeling position. A firm grip on the worktop helped her reach her
feet. Blood dripped from her nose, running into the borrowed
sweatshirt. With shaking hands she wiped it away and realised the
damage was already healing. She sniffed, winced and tried
again.

Tristen nodded. ‘You’ll be fine
in a minute.’

Lenina opened her mouth, but
before she could speak, he stiffened and whirled to face the
archway.

An instant later she heard it
too: footsteps marching up the drive.

Time seemed to slow.

Tristen gritted his teeth.
Balled his hands into fists.

Though her stomach and head
shrieked a complaint at every move, Lenina shoved off from the
cupboards and ran. Shouldering past him, back over Thorne’s body
and to the front door. ‘Help me, please!’ Desperation added volume
as she went.

Locks clicked and the door
swung open before she could reach it, admitting a scatter of rain
and a shabby figure in grey. He peered through a scraggle of
knotted ginger hair and stepped forward. Lenina glared at Jason and
skidded to a stop. Her fingers itched as she balanced on the edge
of attacking or fleeing.

‘I blocked you,’ she cried,
checking the mental image of the door in her mind. Sure enough, the
locks, chains and deadbolt remained in place. She felt no trace of
him in her head, just the frantic shrieking of her own fear. ‘How
did you find me?’

‘I wasn’t following
you
.’

Tristen stepped into the
hallway, kicking aside Thorne’s legs to clear a path. One hand
rested on his hip. ‘Where have you been?’

Silence in the hallway. Lenina
frowned. Looked toward the door.

Shuffling his hands, gazed
fixed on the ground, Jason hunched his shoulders and lowered his
head. When he spoke next, his voice quivered. ‘Sorry.’

‘I lost an asset. I had to buy
time playing lovey-dovey. What took you?’

More hand shuffling. ‘I stopped
to give tribute. I had to make sure I was strong enough.’

‘Are you?’

In answer, Jason lifted his
head. His thin lips pulled into a sly smile.

Lenina screamed. Pain exploded
across her skull and the carefully constructed mental door burst
open. Imagined splinters pierced her brain like needles. Through
the gap came a scalding wave of emotion from Jason, washing over
her to drown out everything else. She felt his pleasure, his pride,
his excitement. Beneath those more immediate emotions came more
subtle ones and her body quivered as traces of love flowed through.
Respect. Deep, visceral longing.

Lenina stared at Jason and
understood. ‘You know him.’ Cradling her head in both hands, she
gathered together the shattered pieces of her mental defences and
tried to repair them. ‘You bit him, like you bit me.’

Tristen snorted. ‘Don’t be so
crass. I
Kissed
him.’

‘
You
did?’ She shook her
head again, her gaze flicking across his face as if to find a clue
in his expression.

‘I invited him to share a gift
with me.’ Tristen eyed her injured cheek. ‘When he accepted I
sealed the agreement with a Blood Kiss.’

‘He drank your blood?’

‘If you insist.’ He smiled and
that brilliant white light returned to his eyes. ‘Get in here,
Jason.’

The longing she felt winked
out, quickly replaced by fear. Lenina felt the change and shoved
the last few pieces of the door back into place. The weight of
Jason’s thoughts leaned against it, but she gritted her teeth and
pinned it shut.

He grimaced at her. ‘You don’t
know what you’re doing, love. You need more than that to keep me
out.’

His words gave Lenina a new
idea. Squeezing her eyes shut, she swapped the image of a broken
door to a sheer, impenetrable wall, built with concrete slabs three
feet thick. No door, no cracks, no way through.