CHAPTER 18

I narrowed my eyes, squinting at the place where I’d seen the shifting sliver of darkness, but it was gone. My imagination, perhaps?

A scuffle behind me. I turned.

Nothing.

Something there? Or perhaps there?

Only the mist swirled.

I had to stay where I was. In this place, I could be lost forever. I could walk into a black hole. I could fall and never again get back up.

So I continued to wait and watch. I don’t know how long I stood there, knife clasped in my sweaty hand. Eyes and ears straining. Heart thundering despite my best efforts to make it slow.

I drew in a long, deep breath and caught a whiff of cinnamon and soap. Familiar hands slid around my waist; then familiar lips nuzzled my neck.

“You came back,” Jimmy murmured. “You didn’t leave me here to—”

I frowned. I had left him here to—

So why wasn’t he?

“Where’s—?”

“Shh.” He spun me around. I caught the sparkle of dew like diamonds in his dark hair; then he kissed me before I could stop him. Not that I wanted to.

The kiss was pure Jimmy—all I’d once loved, all that I still did. I should push him away, but I couldn’t. He hadn’t kissed me like this since—

My eyes burned. I couldn’t remember. There’d been so much between us—hatred and sadness and pain. Sure, we had our memories. First kiss. First love. First time. How did you ever get past that?

Making each other into vampires was a pretty good start.

So why was he kissing me now as if he meant it?

I didn’t ask. I was afraid if I did, I’d break whatever spell we were under. And it had to be a spell, because this certainly felt like magic.

The mist swirled faster, cooler and thicker. The only warmth in this place was him. I stepped closer, pressing my body the length of his, and realized something.

He wasn’t wearing any clothes.

Mist clung to my eyelashes, making them so heavy to lift. That was all right. I didn’t want to see any more than I wanted to speak.

He smelled like Jimmy, and he tasted like Jimmy too. For just a little while, I wanted to remember what it had been like to be loved like this. Back when forever wasn’t a curse but a promise. Back when everything was fresh and new and full of hope. Even me.

His palms traced my waist, my rib cage, skated over my breasts to smooth my shoulders, then skimmed down my arms. One hand cupped my wrist, squeezed just a little, then his fingers spread over mine, and I was shocked to realize I still held the knife. Shocked further when I let him take it.

I tensed, but the soft thud as he dropped it to the ground was reassuring. Not that a knife could hurt me.

No. That wasn’t true. It would hurt, but it wouldn’t kill. A major distinction these days.

His tongue moistened my lips, tickled my teeth. My hands no longer clenched; I was free to run them over him. Jimmy’s face might be just short of pretty, but his body wasn’t short of anything. That olive skin was slick and smooth, rippling over sleek muscles. His body lithe and long, I’d once spent hours learning every dip and curve until they were as familiar to me as my own.

I knew how best to touch him, where to stroke, how hard and for how long. I knew his moans, the way his breath would catch if I traced his nipple with a fingernail. How his belly would clench, the muscles rolling against my hands, or my lips, like the lap of a river against the shore.

I buried my face in his neck, drew in the scent of him, one that always caused competing waves of peace and lust. Jimmy was safety—or at least he had been. He’d protected me; he’d killed for me.

But he was also sex and danger—a lethal, irresistible combination. As teens, we’d had to hide what we felt, definitely what we did. Ruthie would have killed us. So we’d had sex in closets, on countertops, against the wall in the upstairs hall while Ruthie and the little children had put away groceries downstairs.

Hey, I never said we were smart. We were hormone-driven kids.

I suckled his neck, teased a fold with my teeth. He tasted of summer and salt, the only warmth in a world that had become so damn cold.

Blood, whispered the demon. You know that you want it.

And I did. So badly I could almost taste the flow.

You won’t hurt him. You can’t kill him.

That wasn’t true and I knew it. So did the demon. Sneaky, lying bastard.

I took a deep breath and lifted my mouth from Jimmy’s skin. It was a lot harder than it should have been.

I imagined shoving the demon—which in my head was a misshapen, cloven-hooved monster—behind an iron door. I slammed it shut; the sound made my ears ring. The demon began to fling itself at the door, screaming and pounding, throwing a tantrum like a child. I turned my back on that door and tossed away the key.

Ah, that was better.

The mist had thickened further; I couldn’t see anything but the shadow of Jimmy’s head so close to mine. Mist that thick didn’t exist.

On earth.

“Remember the night we snuck out?” Jimmy’s voice was disembodied, though his breath brushed my cheek.

I gave a short, sharp laugh. “Which one?”

“Close your eyes,” he whispered as his lips skimmed my temple, then each of my eyelids before skimming over my cheekbone. “See if this rings any bells.”

His teeth grazed my chin and memory flickered. A chill in the air—October—the scent of just-fallen leaves from a pile beneath the big maple tree in the yard, the crunch of my bare feet across a few that had been torn free by the autumn wind. Me cringing at the sound, which seemed as loud as thunder in the secret navy-blue night.

“You gave me a note,” I said as his fingers crept beneath my tank, his palm against my stomach large and hot. I rubbed myself against him and tried not to purr.

“Meet me at midnight.” His face to my neck, he licked the throbbing vein, pressing his tongue to the pulse, scraping his teeth back and forth to the rhythm of my heart.

I wanted him to bite me; I wanted him to drink from me as I died.

“Shit,” I muttered. We were both so fucked up. But then we always had been.

We might lie to ourselves that the demons within us were new, but Jimmy and I had always had demons. The only thing new was our letting them out.

“I thought Ruthie saw,” I continued, voice more breathless by the minute. “I flushed the note, just in case.”

He laughed, the movement brushing our chests together. I ached to feel skin on skin. Maddened, I leaned back and yanked the tank over my head. Before it even hit the ground, he’d released the catch on my bra with a deft twist, then lifted my breasts into his palms, cupping and caressing, lowering his head, letting his breath trickle over the gooseflesh raised by both the mist and our memories.

“Touching you made my hands shake.” He pressed a kiss to my collarbone, skimmed his fingers there too, and I felt him tremble. “It still does.”

My throat felt funny—thick and tight—and my eyes burned. There must be something in the mist besides water.

What had happened down here? The Dagda was supposed to have released Jimmy’s demon. Instead he seemed to have brought back the Jimmy I’d lost. The boy who’d needed me and loved me, the almost man I’d adored.

“The moon was full,” he continued, “but it was foggy. Like this.”

“No,” I corrected. “It was warm that night. Clear. Indian summer.”

“And then a front came through.”

Funny how memories can be both the same and completely different. I remembered the heat, the sky and Jimmy. But now that he mentioned the front, I could almost feel the cool, autumn wind and the fog that had padded in, twirling around our ankles like a smooth gray cat.

“You wore that skirt I liked.”

“You told me to.” Another reason I’d flushed the note.

“I didn’t tell you not to wear underwear.”

My lips curved; I leaned forward and put my mouth against his ear. “Some things I can figure out for myself.”

His fingers flexed, the pressure against my breasts just short of pain; his thumbs stroked over the tips.

“I dreamed of you in that skirt. Every time you wore it to school, I’d sit in Chemistry and imagine getting you out of it.”

“As I recall—” I took in a quick breath when he slid two fingers beneath the waistband of my jeans, brushing the lace at the top of my panties before flicking open the single button. “As I recall,” I tried again, “you never did get me out of it.”

“Didn’t need to.” He drew the zipper down, the sound muffled by the thick, heavy air. He yanked the jeans and the panties past my hips; I kicked them away along with my shoes. “I just lived out my dreams.”

I tilted my head; my lips parted, and his mouth crushed down on mine. As his palms traced up my thighs, then cupped my ass and lifted me, everything came rushing back.

The night, the moon, the fog—the heat of the air, the chill of that incoming front. Midnight. Everyone asleep but us. In the distance, a dog barked, too far away to matter. Not that anything would have stopped us then. Nothing was going to stop us now.

He’d taken my hand; we’d raced to the backyard where the shadows were deep and we could be all alone.

That skirt, he’d said, lifting the hem, which reached to mid-calf, floaty and flouncy, nearly black with a cast of purple that made me think of enchanted, starlit skies. I’d found it at Goodwill—we did a lot of our shopping there; just because Ruthie was the leader of the supernatural forces of light didn’t mean she was rich in anything but power. The skirt had probably belonged to an old woman, a former hippie perhaps, but it had looked almost new and had fit me so well.

You’d think a teenage girl would go for a shorter hem—not that Ruthie would have ever let me wear anything higher than my knees—but not me. Not the way I’d lived—on the streets, in foster home after foster home, a pretty child who’d turned into an exotically beautiful young woman who’d developed earlier than most. I’d wanted to cover myself, to hide from everyone but him.

Every time you wear it, all I can think of is sliding my hands underneath.

I wasn’t completely certain if the voice I heard was only memory or if he was speaking the same words now. He was definitely performing the same ritual. His calloused fingers scraped deliciously along the backs of my thighs as he parted my legs and setting my knees across his slim hips.

Then, he’d braced me against the back of the house. Now he was bigger and stronger—he had supernatural abilities—so he merely lifted, then entered me. I crossed my ankles at the small of his back, wrapped my arms around his neck and settled in for the ride.

With my eyes closed, the mist drifting seductively across my skin and the scent of Jimmy all around, I was transported into the past. All that had happened since—the pain, the betrayal, the infinite changes—disappeared. If I let myself believe we were in Ruthie’s backyard instead of the Otherworld, that it was October and not August, that we were still kids, still human—or at least believed that we were—it was easy.

I clung to him, let him take the lead, his hips advancing and retreating, his mouth covering my face, my neck, my breasts, with reverent kisses. Back then he’d worshiped me; I’d idolized him. It hadn’t lasted, but while it did the world had been such a glittering, glorious place. There’d been hope and love and chances. There’d been so many possibilities in life.

Now there were a lot more possibilities in death, or at least possibilities of death, which might be why I was letting reality slide. Time enough to worry about vampires and demons and the end of the world later. They’d all still be there after I came.

As good as this felt, the pressure wasn’t quite right. I tightened my ankles, arched my back, which pushed my breasts right into his face. He didn’t mind; he’d always liked them.

He took a nipple between his teeth, tugging, suckling, before gifting the other with the same treatment. The sensations danced across my skin, skated lower, yet still this just wasn’t right.

“Let go,” I murmured against his hair.

“Never.” He kissed one swell, rubbing his cheek against the other.

I tangled my fingers in his damp, curling hair. “Put me down. Please? I need to feel you—”

He lifted his head, and for an instant I could have sworn I saw a telltale flash of red at the center of his dark eyes. But it couldn’t be. If his demon were free, he’d never touch me so gently. When his demon was free, Jimmy was into—

I shuddered, remembering the time I’d spent in captivity in Manhattan.

“You need to feel me?” he murmured, laying his face once again against my chest. “I must be losing my”—he flexed his lower body, and I gasped as he slid ever deeper—“touch.”

“I didn’t mean that. I just—” I shifted, tugging on one leg.

For an instant I thought he might hold me there, and I panicked a little. The last time he’d forced me to do things I didn’t want to do, I’d been his slave and he’d been the psycho master of my prison. But he let go, and my feet fell to the ground as he slid from my body.

“Don’t tell me we’re done,” he said, voice tight.

I took his hand, planning to draw him down with me onto the soft, misty ground we couldn’t see. “Not yet.”

This place was so strange. We stood on something solid, yet clouds swirled all around our feet and the sky was the shade of the earth. As I lay back, the cool mist enveloped me, shutting out everything in this world. If I hadn’t taken hold of Jimmy’s hand, I’d never have known he was there.

One tug and he followed, covering my body with his. “This is what I needed,” I whispered.

He didn’t speak; I couldn’t see. He could be anyone. Except I knew his body, his scent, the sounds he made right before—

Jimmy tensed, the movement causing his body to rub against me just right. His breath caught; for a second I thought he might call me baby. I’d always hated the term, but now it had been so long since I’d heard the word, I held my breath too.

Instead he cursed the way he always did when he was trying to hold back, to wait for me to catch up so we could come apart together. But I didn’t need to catch up, I was already there, so I arched, taking him deeper, running my palm over his back, pulling him closer as he pulsed within.

“Jimmy,” I murmured, and in my voice I heard everything. Past happiness, present pain, future pleasures—only with this man had I ever been truly whole.

Because he knew me, body and soul, he shifted, pressing harder where I needed him to, and I came in a rush, his name again on my lips, my hips pumping. I could have sworn I felt him swell, pulse and come again. Inhuman, sure, but wasn’t he?

That thought brought me out of the moment, tore away all the magic. The interlude was over. We had to go back—to both the present problem and the real world.

His head against my chest, I tangled my fingers in the unusually long hair at the nape of his neck, opened my mouth to ask what had happened down here, how he was. But before I could say anything, he jumped lithely to his feet and disappeared into the mist. In the distance, the screaming began again, trilling through the night like a long, lonely song.

I scrambled up, cast my hands around for my clothes and knife. I didn’t like that screaming. Liked even less being naked while it rolled around me, bristling along my bare skin, causing sharp, painful gooseflesh to rise in its wake.

When the last zipper, catch and tie were fastened, I moved toward the shrieks, knife once again held tightly in my fist.

The sound had started up again too quickly to be Jimmy, I assured myself. But the assurances were merely that. Jimmy could move quicker than a high wind when he chose to. Although why he’d choose to rush toward something that could make him scream like that—

“He wouldn’t,” I murmured. “So it can’t be him.”

My demon started to laugh. I guess it had managed to pry open the door in my mind and slip out. Swell.

“Shut up!”

The demon laughed louder, and whoever was screaming . . . they screamed louder too.

“Jimmy!” I shouted. He didn’t answer. I doubted he could hear me above the screaming.

How was I going to find him and get out of here?

The same way I’d found him and so many others in the past. My gift. The one I’d been born with.

I could touch people and know things about them, but I could also touch what they’d touched and find them. It had been a very handy talent when I’d been a cop. The power wasn’t any less useful now; I just used it a lot less because I had so many others.

I let the mist settle on me like a summer rain. Closing my eyes, I breathed in, then lifted my free hand and laid the palm over my stomach, right where Jimmy had touched me. And I saw him—in what appeared to be a cave: rock walls, the trickle of water, the flicker of a fire across his face.

“Another cave,” I muttered. “Figures.”

The last time his vampire nature had sprung free, I’d tracked Jimmy to a cave in the Ozarks. I wondered at the attraction. Caves gave me the willies.

Nevertheless, I had to find this one. I brushed my fingertips across my skin as he had, and saw the path Jimmy had taken as if he’d trailed phosphorous footsteps through the fog.

Sometimes this worked and sometimes it didn’t. I was so damn grateful my radar was functioning now my knees wobbled. I stopped that by striding forward, letting my mind be my guide instead of my eyes, which would only deceive me in this misty Otherworld.

My shoes scratched against earth that could not be seen. I caught the scent of grass, leaves, greenery, could have sworn that a bush caught at my knee, a low-hanging branch brushed my neck.

The distant ping of water on water brought me up short, and my eyes snapped open. I took a step back. I’d nearly slammed nose first into a wall of rock.

I trailed my hand along the face, first to the right, then back to the left until I found the opening. Seconds later I found Jimmy.

His back to me, he contemplated the fire. Water trickled down the stone wall, dropping bead by bead into a tiny bowl just big enough to wash your hands. Shoulders slumped, head hanging, he worried me.

“Hey.” I came up behind him slowly. “You okay?”

When I got closer I saw the welts across his back, as if he’d been whipped with chains of gold. I was surprised I hadn’t felt them when I’d run my fingers over his skin. Though they were fading fast, already more like red lines from a minor accident than raised welts from a serious injury.

I stepped closer still and discovered similar marks on his wrists, around his neck and waist and ankles. I drew in a shaky breath as I reached out to run a gentle finger along his shoulder. My hand trembled.

“Ah, Jimmy,” I began.

He spun around with that freaky dhampir speed, grabbing my wrist and yanking me close. His eyes flared bright red.

“Gotcha,” he said, and then he bit me.