Touch of Darkness (3 page)

Despite the snow, in the shadow of my destroyed building, his words still made me smile. How could they not?

3

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Kate, are you all right in there?” Peg’s voice came to me through the door to the hotel suite. I hit the mute button on the television, silencing the familiar voice on the weather station, and wandered over to let her in.

“Is there anything more pathetic in the world than a would-be bride sulking alone in what was supposed to be her honeymoon suite?” I snuffled pitifully as I pulled open the door.

She put on a sad pout for my benefit and tucked her arm around mine. “It’s not Tom’s fault, sweetie. A freak hundred-year blizzard in Denver on the heels of a regular snowstorm—closed airport. You can’t say he didn’t try.” She walked a few steps into the room with me and then just stopped, staring around, while I continued on. I’d done the same thing when I’d arrived. It was worth a stare or two. The suite was gorgeous. Tom had made the arrangements and had gone all-out. When you first walked into the suite you came into a seating area. Everything was done in shades of champagne and jewel tones, with dark wood furniture pieces polished to a warm glow. There was a white marble fireplace, and white marble tile squares on the section of floor in front of the fireplace that flowed seamlessly into the white marble of the en-suite spa. The bedroom had a king-sized four-poster bed and matching dressers and an armoire that hid a plasma television. Sliding doors led to a balcony that overlooked the lights of the strip.

When I’d first come in I’d found a table set up in the conversation area with champagne on ice, plus fondues with white, milk, and dark chocolate to have chocolate-covered strawberries. The perfect romantic moment for the arriving happy couple.

Sigh.

Everything was plush and elegant, not in the least bit tacky. We might be in Vegas, but this was high-end Vegas. Tom’s not wealthy. But he’s conservative enough with his money that it goes a long way. At least he’s usually conservative. I couldn’t imagine how much he’d paid for all this and he wouldn’t tell me. But after waiting so long—

what with the marriage classes at the church, and one thing and another—he’d wanted everything perfect. It would have been, too, if he wasn’t riding a bench at Denver International Airport. He couldn’t even get back along Peña Boulevard to a hotel. They closed it after his cab arrived.

“I know, I know.” I sounded as sullen as I felt. Damn it anyway. Tom and I have been through so much to get together. Why couldn’t this at least go right? But no. No such luck.

Peg gave me a look and announced, “You need a drink.”

“The champagne was complimentary with the room. Part of the wedding package.”

“Fine. Champagne it is.” She strolled across the carpet to the ice bucket. It only took her a moment to get the bottle open. She’s had a lot more experience at that sort of thing than Tom or I have. Either of us would’ve bungled it, but she managed to open and pour without any mess, fuss, or giggles.

I took the crystal champagne flute from her hand and took a long drink. I’m not a big champagne fan, but this actually tasted good. Surprise.

“It’s a big storm, but you’ve both safe and sound. You’ve waited this long; a couple more days won’t kill you.” She sipped her drink as gracefully as she did everything else. Peg is my best friend and I love her, but she’s also close enough to perfect that it sometimes gets on my nerves. Petite, blonde, she is the epitome of well-groomed WASPdom. I’m so not. I, Kate Reilly, stand six foot one in my bare feet, have red-gold hair that is completely uncontrollable unless pulled into submission, and confess to a penchant for black leather. Striking. I can give myself striking. But I’m not pretty, or beautiful, and I can never seem to manage the kind of pulled-together look that Peg achieves so easily. We met and became friends in the course of business. She’s a flight attendant. I have my own business as a bonded air courier. She’s worked a number of different routes over the years, but she particularly likes the DC/Tel Aviv run that I use most often.

“I had to call Tom’s grandparents and cancel at the chapel. His grandmother was heartbroken. They’re old, and not in good enough health to drive themselves to Denver for the church wedding, and he won’t fly. The marriage here was really, really important to them.” Important enough for Tom to come back, despite a lot of problems from his past that he hadn’t wanted to talk about. But Peg didn’t need to know that.

“Besides, in four days I’m supposed to be in Tel Aviv doing a diamond run.”

Her snort spoke volumes. “Didn’t give yourself much time for a honeymoon, did you?” She strolled over to the couch and sat down, turned, and reclined with her back against the armrest and her stocking feet crossed on the cushions.

I shrugged and took another sip. “Tom had to be back anyway. He has a shift.”

“He couldn’t get time off?”

I sighed and took another fortifying drink. I knew I was drinking it too fast. I’d end up with gas for sure, and possibly drunk. But right now I didn’t really care. “He probably could’ve, but we’re still walking on eggshells.”

“I thought he was cleared of charges—”

I crossed over to the chair opposite her and collapsed into it. I didn’t like thinking about the night that Samantha Greeley captured and tortured my brother Joe. Nine months and I was still having nightmares and dealing with the fallout. Joe was having a worse time, though. He had scarring, both physical and mental. His legs were in braces, and he had PTSD—posttraumatic stress disorder.

“The night Tom came with me to save Joe, he left his crew. They don’t completely trust him anymore. I think they’re still worried that he might ‘run off’ if he has to choose between his duty as a firefighter and me or the wolf pack. It didn’t help that he asked the chief to search for me the second they arrived last night. Yeah, he lived there too, but…. Nobody said anything, but I watched how they treated him differently than last time I saw them together.”

“So they haven’t forgiven him. Great.” She shook her head. “God, Reilly, the life you lead. Do you have some sort of mega-great-grandfather in your past who ticked off a leprechaun or something? Some Reilly family curse that dooms you to bad luck?”

I snorted, but some days I wonder the same thing. My life can, and frequently does, suck. Once upon a time things had been relatively normal. But that had been a long time ago. Long enough that while I could wax nostalgic, I didn’t really remember.

“So, what’s this I hear about your baby brother? Did Bryan really check himself into one of the vampire halfway houses?”

I stared at her with anger probably plain on my face. I know that I nearly choked on the sip of champagne I’d just taken. “Yeah, you heard right, damn it. I can’t believe how stupid my brothers are being. Joe and Bryan both know the truth about the Thrall—better than most. They’re vampires, Peg. Bloodsucking parasites that kill the host they infest within a matter of two to ten years.”

“Or sooner,” she agreed. “I mean, with you being Not Prey and all, I figured Bryan would steer clear of them. What’s to say that he won’t be a target to get to you once they’ve got him locked up?”

“That’s what I mean. They should know better. God knows I have the scars to prove they’re violent. But now that’s supposed to be ancient history. Wonderful Larry, who tortured poor Dylan and turned Monica into a nutjob who I was supposed to battle for the honor of having a slimy parasite attach to my brainstem to make me a queen. I mean …

ewww.” I raised a hand in a stopping motion. “And let’s not even discuss Monica’s little plan to take over the world. I’m sorry, but I just can’t forget how many times they’ve tried to kill me, with no provocation, I might add—and accept their new warm and fuzzy, can’t we all just get along campaign. Bryan might buy into it, because he’s only got my word on some stuff, but Joe? He knows better. Hell, he’s criticized them himself. Yeah, they might be using their psychic abilities to bring back coma victims and Eden zombies, even helping them readjust to normal life in their shiny ”New Dawn“ halfway houses around the country, but what’s the cost? Huh? Where’s their food coming from? Who’s donating blood to them? How can you call zombies willing donors? Hmmn?” I put the delicate champagne flute down on the table after my little rant, before my clenching fist snapped the stem in two. “Good guys—yeah, right.”

Of course, what I didn’t need to bring up … especially to my best friend, is that if the vampires are the good guys, then people like me get cast as the villains. Just what I need.

My anger turned to pain so I picked up the flute again to self-medicate. “I heard about Bryan checking himself into New Dawn in Texas from a reporter—a reporter, for pity’s sake—who was trying to get a reaction shot.”

“Oh, my God!” She looked just as horrified as I’d felt that day. “Katie, that’s terrible. I’m so sorry.”

“It sure worked. The picture of me on the front page of one of the tabloids was priceless. I looked hurt and horrified, just like the jerk planned.” I didn’t bother to mention the next few minutes. Peg probably figured out that as soon as I’d gotten somewhere a little more private I’d tried to contact my baby brother psychically. No luck. That was unusual, and would take a lot more concerted effort than he was usually willing to expend. I’d tried dialing his cell number the minute I’d climbed into a cab. It had been disconnected. My next call had been to Joe.

“And Joe knew about it? He didn’t bother to tell you about Bryan’s decision?” I heard the sadness in her voice as she tried to decide who to feel sorriest for. She’d loved Joe once, before he met his new wife, Mary.

“He was my next call. And let me tell you— that didn’t go well. He gave me a lecture about how, if I was just a little less self-centered, I’d know what was going on in the family. But no, never mind, I was too busy what with my newfound celebrity and all.”

She looked suitably angry and sympathetic. I had to admit it was making me feel better to talk about it. I love Tom desperately, and he usually takes my side in things like this. But he’s so damned practical. He keeps thinking of solutions, when sometimes I just want to rant and have the person make the right noises.

“Joe meant the words to hurt, Peg. A part of him knows that I didn’t deliberately seek fame, and anyone can see I don’t enjoy it. But it has started to consume my life, and it makes it hard to do all the family things I used to do. I wind up planning everything I do to avoid the glare and preserve what’s left of my privacy.” She couldn’t decide how to respond to that, so we both just sipped champagne and thought our own thoughts for a bit, while watching the mute moving pictures on the television. After a moment, she started channel flipping, the sound still off, while I mulled. I keep hoping that the whole situation will die down. I mean, actors and actresses are “hot” one minute and then never heard from again until Entertainment Tonight does a special on “Whatever Happened to—.” But so far, it hasn’t worked that way for me. The good news is I don’t have trouble at bus stops and riding the light rail. I guess people figure it isn’t “me,” that “real” celebrities don’t ride the bus. I wouldn’t, either, if I had managed to get myself a new vehicle, but I don’t want to spend the money until the situation with the car rental company is settled. The negotiations are nearly over, I just don’t know the final result. I may wind up having to buy the blasted thing. It wasn’t a bad vehicle, but it’s not the one I’d have chosen.

She sighed after a time and tucked another pillow under her head before refilling her glass from the fast-emptying bottle. “Still, things aren’t all bad, Kate. You and Tom found each other. You own a building in lower downtown Denver. I’m sure it’s still fixable. You can fix anything. And while Bryan might not be making the choices you would, he’s in his own mind enough to actually make choices. That’s something.”

She was right, and I nodded, my eyes misting over just a bit at the realization that I might be mad with him, but I could be mad with him. Less than two years ago he’d been an Eden zombie—completely helpless, trapped in his own mind without will or personality. No, things were not all bad. I glanced up and mouthed a silent prayer of gratitude.

“Don’t get me wrong, Reilly.” She took a long pull of champagne and pointed at me. Her words were getting a little slurred, but who was I to talk? “I’m not blind. You’ve definitely got your share of faults, but neglecting your family is not one of them. If Joe says it is he needs to get his head examined, his ass kicked, or both.” Her expression grew fierce and then amused, her perfect brows arching prettily. “If I asked nice, do you think your fiancé the werewolf could take care of the ass-kicking part?”

I grinned. I couldn’t help it. Peg always seems to say just the right thing to cheer me up. My cell phone rang. I reached over to grab it from the nightstand and checked the number. Speaking of my favorite werewolf, Tom was on the line.

Peg grinned at my expression. Sad to say, she could tell who was calling just from the look on my face. I’m in love. It shows. A lot. I should probably be embarrassed, but generally I’m too happy to let it bug me.

“Go ahead and talk to Tom. I’ll dip another strawberry. Tell him he’s missing quite a feast.”

She didn’t have to tell me twice. “Thanks.” I hit the button and took the call.

“Hi.”

“Hey, gorgeous. I miss you.” I know it’s silly, but just the sound of his voice on the line warmed me to my toes, making me feel better about Bryan, postponing the wedding…everything. I’ve heard that kind of reaction wears off with time, but we’re at two years—the first danger point for most relationships—and there’s no sign of fading yet. He still thinks I’m wonderful. I know better, but I’m certainly not going to argue.

“Oh, my God. Look, Kate. They’ve got your building on the weather station.” Peg pointed with her glass at the television screen.

My gaze followed her pointing finger to look at the television. What I saw nearly made me drop the telephone. My building made the national news. Standing outside next to the building … even having been inside during the collapse, hadn’t really given me any scope. But the chopper gave me the whole view. The cameraman panned across the scene to show the chunks of brick, glass, and twisted metal that had rained down into my apartment, and later onto the sidewalk.