Touch of Darkness (28 page)

“It means that I’m tired of it being all right for you to risk your life every day to save total strangers, but I’m supposed to stay safe; that I’m supposed to be fine with you doing things like asking my own brother to design you a special parachute so you can jump out of a perfectly good airplane into the middle of a freaking wildfire, but I’m supposed to ‘be careful’ and ‘not take chances.’ I’m supposed to wait for you to help, instead of using those who are closer and who offer. Fuck that. You’re a hero. You always have been. I know that. I’ve known it from day one. You run toward the things that scare the crap out of the rest of us. You can’t help it. It’s part of who you are, and if I’m going to be with you I have to live with that. I can’t ask you not to be you. So I swallow the fear, put on my game face, and yell

‘ Go, Tom’ like some frigging cheerleader.” I spat the words out at him. It made my head pound, hard enough for my stomach to roil in protest, but I didn’t care.

I’d been crying a lot lately. I’d figured it was the stress of everything, the botched wedding, all the crap that Dylan had pulled. But those hadn’t been the only reasons. This had been back there all the time, like a festering wound. Because while I was trying so damned hard to support him, not to ask him too many details about pack life, or ask him to change—he’d been doing the opposite, and it hurt. But the tears were gone for the moment, replaced by the long, slow burn of real anger.

Tom stared at me for long moments, his jaw dropped so low that it nearly touched his chest. Most fights escalate when both people are angry. It doesn’t seem to work that way with us, thank God. My anger seems to stop his cold.

“I’ve always wanted to be a smokejumper.” It was a whisper.

“I know.”

“I don’t want to give it up.” I could barely hear him.

“Did I ask you to? Did I ever once ask you to give up anything?” My head was throbbing in time to my pulse. I was whispering, not only because of the pain, but also because if I didn’t I was liable to scream. Staring into his face, he looked so lost, so confused, and I knew that until this minute it honestly had never occurred to him that I could be just as afraid for him as he was for me, every single freaking day. I let out a ragged breath. “It’s who you are, and I love you. I don’t want you to change. So I have to live with it. There are probably support groups, but if there aren’t, damn it, I’ll start one. Whatever it takes. Because I love you, and I don’t want to lose you: not to the fires, and not to my fear. But aren’t I entitled to the same luxury? Shouldn’t I get to be who I am?”

He sat down abruptly, on the stool the doctors had abandoned. It was almost as if his knees wouldn’t hold him upright. “I’m sorry.” He leaned forward to take my hands in his. “I didn’t know. I should’ve. I’ve heard other guys talk about it—seen their marriages fall apart because of it. But it honestly never occurred to me—” He shook his head.

“I… I need to think about this. You’re right, but I need to think. Can you stand that?” He brought my hands up to his lips and kissed my knuckles.

I nodded. It was all I could ask for, just like letting Joe deal with his issues. “Do you need to go back to the station?”

“Nah. Bob’s covering the rest of my shift.”

“Good. After my nap, when the migraine’s gone I want you to do something with me.”

He raised one eyebrow in inquiry. “Not that I mind, but are you sure you’ll be up to it?”

“Not that!” I rolled my eyes in mock exasperation. “I’ve read in the books that sometimes, if the psychic is strong enough, they can bring another person along with them in the vision.”

His hands spasmed around mine, and he gave me a skeptical look. “Katie—” Just my name, but I could tell he thought it was a really bad idea, that he wanted to argue with me.

I cut him off before he could say more. “Tom, too much is happening and all of it is important. I need someone to help me put together the pieces of the puzzle. Dusty could do it, but after what happened the other day, I can’t bear the thought of risking—” I let the sentence trail off.

“And Mary would kill you both for trying it. If it didn’t kill you to begin with anyway.”

I gave a small nod. A very small nod because that’s all I could do as the tension … and the control…left my muscles. He stared at me for a long silent moment before giving a grim nod. “I don’t like it,” he admitted. “But I understand why you have to do it. And I’ll come along for the ride. But it won’t be until after the headache’s completely gone. I want you to be at full strength.”

“Agreed. Now go see if you can find out what’s happening with Carlton, and call us a cab. I want to go home as soon as I wake up.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

He left quietly, pulling the door closed behind him. I climbed back up onto the examining table and closed my eyes. I was so tired. Not just physically weary, but mentally and emotionally exhausted. I was beginning to understand on a visceral level what the doctors had been trying to tell me. I didn’t have much more in me. If I didn’t rest, soon, my body would make me rest. But could it have picked a worse time? I mean, the Conclave was only a couple of days away; the Thrall were pulling something major; and I had a jealous and possibly psychotic werewolf stalking me. But the thoughts faded as my consciousness succumbed to the drugs. I slept.

I woke in my own bed, spooned against Tom, still dressed, but without my shoes, tucked under the comforter. The smell of Chinese take-out drifted to me faintly through the closed door. Turning my head I could see the green glow of the clock on the nightstand. It was 3:00 A.M. Damn, what was in that shot? I’d slept through the whole day and most of the night. Whoa. Still, I had to admit I felt better than I had for a while. The absence of pain is a wonderful thing, and so totally underrated.

I wiggled out from under Tom’s arm. Using the light seeping through the crack under the door to guide me, I tiptoed around Tom’s discarded clothes and our shoes to the door and headed down the hall to the bathroom. He’d left the hall light on. It made sense since we had company. In fact, I could hear Elaine’s snores coming from behind the closed door to the second bedroom. I felt a little guilty. I should’ve been up to meet her, should’ve fixed a nice dinner. If she decided to take insult there would probably be hell to pay. Werewolves are big on their own brand of etiquette. Call me silly, but I doubted I’d get a pass for having injured myself in the process of rescuing a rogue Thrall. My bare feet were nearly silent as I padded over the hardwood floor. I used the facilities quickly, washed up, and checked my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

I looked rumpled. The suit would have to go to the cleaners to remove the creases that had set themselves deep into the fabric. But otherwise the rest had done wonders for me. I hadn’t realized how many lines of pain and strain had been marking my features until now that they were gone. My skin was still a little pale, but my features weren’t drawn, my skin sagging and jowly. There were still dark circles like smudges of soot under my eyes, but the bags had definitely gotten smaller. They were more the size for a weekend getaway than a year-long tour of Europe. Whatever had been in that syringe was good stuff. I was impressed. I hoped I’d never have to use it again, but it was good to know stuff like that was out there.

I ran a quick comb through the mass of tangles on my head that passed for hair and then pulled it back into a ponytail. I’d braid it after I had a chance to shower and shampoo. Right now I just wanted it out of the way while I rummaged around in the kitchen for something to eat.

I was famished. Not surprising considering the number of meals I’d missed. When I’d finished cleaning up as much as I was going to for the moment I left the bathroom for the kitchen. I switched on the overhead light, expecting to find things pretty much the way I’d left them this morning. Instead, the place practically sparkled. It looked like something out of a cleanser commercial. I half expected some bald guy in white to step out of the pantry and tell me how to disinfect while I mopped.

I shook my head. Either the shot hadn’t completely worn off after all or my blood sugar was bottoming out, because I was getting a little loopy.

I stepped over to the refrigerator. Opening the door I shoved aside the little white take-out boxes. Chinese leftovers was definitely not what I wanted this morning. I wanted a “real” breakfast: bacon, eggs, some biscuits. Homemade would be good, but the ones in the tube were quicker, and I remembered buying some on my grocery run—was it only yesterday? But most of all, I wanted coffee. Nectar of the gods and fuel of champions, the day couldn’t officially get off the ground without at least one cup.

I went about my cooking as quietly as I could. Still, I wasn’t quiet enough, or else Tom missed having me in the bed with him, because it wasn’t too long before I heard his soft footfalls coming down the hall.

“I smell bacon,” he whispered, “and coffee, and biscuits.” He came up behind me, sliding his arm around my waist to pull me close against him. Nuzzling my neck he whispered, “Have I mentioned before how much I adore the fact you can cook?” He nibbled my ear as he said it, the coarse stubble of his beard rubbing against the sensitive skin of my neck and jawline.

“Once or twice.” I leaned into him, enjoying the warmth of his body while my hands kept busy turning the bacon and then flipping the eggs. He was wearing pajama bottoms, but his chest was bare, and I could feel the solid bulk of his muscles against my back. “But it’s not like this is difficult.”

“Not for you anyway.” He could see the food was almost done, so he stepped away from me and began gathering plates and silverware from the various cabinets.

“Thank you for buying coffee filters.”

“Yeah, well, I noticed we were out when I cleaned the kitchen.” His grin was a flash of bright teeth and dimples.

“And I was so not going to deal with you in the morning without your coffee.”

“I’m not that bad,” I protested.

“Of course not, sweetie.” He said it with a chuckle that made it clear he was lying through his teeth, and set up the place settings, giving me the biggest mug in the house.

I heard scratching, but couldn’t pinpoint where the sound was coming from. “Blank? Where are you, boy?”

A piteous mewing came from the general direction of the pantry. “Oh, crap. How’d he get stuck in there?”

“I dunno.” Tom walked over and opened the door. The cat wound his way around his feet, purring like a motorboat. He was begging for breakfast. We both knew it. But I also knew that Tom would give in and feed him, in part because he was so tickled that the cat liked him. Growing up he’d never been able to have pets. Most small animals could sense the predator in him and were too terrified to let him come anywhere close. Maybe it’s because Blank lived with Dylan and Amanda before he was given back to me. They’d no doubt smelled of Thrall. A werewolf might be the lesser of two evils to a cat. Tom reached down to run his hand over the thick white fur. “I think I’ll feed him some breakfast too.”

I hid my grin by stepping behind the refrigerator door and pulling out the butter and a carton of orange juice. While I was pouring a glass for each of us Tom was opening one of those tiny cans of expensive gourmet stuff for the furball. I knew for a fact that I hadn’t bought it. It’s too damned pricey. Which meant that Tom had done it. But no, he doesn’t spoil Blank. Of course not.

Just a nice, domestic morning. I loved it. Maybe even more because I knew that in an hour or so everything was liable to go to hell.

Tom set the saucer of food onto the linoleum a few inches in front of the cat. Blank dived into the food as if he’d been starved for days when there was a nearly full bowl of hard food barely six feet away. I set both glasses of orange juice onto the table and put the carton back in the fridge. That done, we settled into our places and tucked wordlessly into our breakfast.

Tom waited until I was mostly finished before starting the conversation. “So, how much do you remember of yesterday afternoon?”

“The last thing I remember, you’d gone off to call a cab and I climbed back up on the examination table to close my eyes for a minute.”

“That’s it?”

“Yup.” I grabbed another biscuit and buttered it. Yes, I was making a pig of myself. I didn’t care. I was hungry, dammit. “So, what did I miss?”

Tom sighed and started ticking items off on his fingers. “Let’s see. When we got home Janine had vandalized the house: tomatoes, eggs, some spray paint. It was a mess. One of the neighbors came up while I was hosing down the mess, told me that he’d called the cops, but they’d gotten here too late to catch her at it. But he’d taken pictures with his cell phone. It was her. And he gave copies to the cops, so they’re looking for her.”

“Oh, crap.” That sucked. It wasn’t that I wanted Janine on the loose. I didn’t. But being at ground zero with Elaine when her daughter got arrested again wasn’t likely to be a load of giggles either.

“Elaine showed up while Joe, Bryan, and I were painting over the graffiti. She started following the trail, but she didn’t have any more luck than I did. The scent trail dead-ended at a park about eight blocks from here.”

As if cut off with a switch, my hunger disappeared. In fact, the food I’d already eaten began sitting a little uneasily.

“Was it the one near the highway with a lake?”

Tom stared at me, the biscuit he’d been eating hovering forgotten halfway to his mouth. “Katie, what’s wrong?”

I thought of the vision I’d had. I’d been a werewolf, probably Janine, running away from a park.

“Katie?” There was an urgency to his voice. “Come back to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

I took a deep, shuddering breath and very deliberately worked to ground myself psychically. Almost immediately I felt more calm, more capable of dealing with reality.

“I had a vision yesterday morning.” I said it calmly.

He set the biscuit down, shoved the plate away from him. “Tell me.”

I did, as succinctly as I could. Unfortunately, a lot had happened in the interim. Some of the details of the vision were definitely fuzzy. Still, there was no mistaking that it was the same park, and I clearly remembered her disdain for