"Amy, you shouldn't be alone right now." Vivien glanced around as she followed Amy down a narrow corridor at the back of the Second Cup, past the washrooms and a door marked for staff only. "Why don't you come back to Dain's with me, or let me come stay with you for a few days?"
Amy shook her head and kept walking. "I'm not in any danger now, Vivien. The guy who hit me has no idea where I live, and I'm not planning on going near the dungeon any time soon. Not till I figure things out. I'll be careful."
Catching hold of Amy's arm, Vivien dragged her to a halt and waited until her friend turned to face her. The dark glasses hid the worst of the bruising, but Vivien knew it was there. "You were
hit
, Amy! And you won't go to the police. Did you even go to a doctor? What if your zygomatic arch"—Vivien hissed through her teeth—"what if your cheekbone is fractured?"
"Actually, yes, I went to the hospital and got an X-ray. I'm not a complete moron"—Amy sighed, shaking her head—"just a partial one." The smile she sent Vivien fell flat. "I'll be fine. I was hit by a first-time client," she said. "And it was my own damned fault. I got cocky. I should have called to check the reference he gave me before I met with him. When I finally made that call this morning, the guy had never heard of him. So it was my bad."
"Look—"
"No, Vivien," Amy cut her off. "I'm fine. Really. I just needed to talk, get it out, you know? And having you listen means the world to me."
Vivien nodded. She knew that feeling. With everything that had been happening in her life lately, she'd been wanting to unload on someone herself. But now was not the time to burden Amy with her problems. Amy had enough shit to deal with all by her lonesome.
Besides, she had Dain.
Vivien blinked, startled. Where had that thought come from?
From her heart, she realized, an incredible warmth rising at the thought.
She had Dain
. On some level, though words had not been spoken, she knew he was committed to her, cared about her.
He'd listen. He'd help if he could.
He wouldn't leave her.
Wow… just…
wow
.
"Actually," Amy continued. "I do believe everything happens for a reason. Things have been really creepy for me lately. Really dark. And this scare just gave me a wake-up call. I think it's time to consider early retirement, you know?"
She shoved open the back door and stepped out into the alley. Moving forward, Vivien propped open the door with her hip, watching as Amy unlocked her bike from where she'd chained it to a metal pole that was bolted to the brick wall.
"I don't know how you ride that in this weather."
Amy shot her a smile, genuine, warm, and in that instant, Vivien thought that she'd be okay. She'd find a way through this. Amy had always been like that, finding a way to soldier through anything.
"Vivien." Amy held her bike steady with one hand and stepped over to wrap her free arm around Vivien's shoulders in an awkward hug. "Thank you. For listening. For caring. For not judging."
"I'm worried about you," Vivien said.
"I know." Amy stepped back. "I'm sorry for that."
Vivien watched Amy swing onto the seat and ride away. She leaned her shoulder against the door, the cold air swirling around her, and she wondered how her perfectly ordered life had gotten so out of her control.
She didn't know how she felt about any of this. Her best friend was a dominatrix.
Her
boyfriend
was a sorcerer.
So, what was next? Her mother was an alien?
It was definitely turning out to be a hell of a week.
Taking a deep breath, she wondered what had happened to the cool, analytical woman she'd always believed herself to be. The woman who never would have believed in demons and sorcerers and magic. Science-girl. Where was she?
Still here, Vivien realized, only with broadened horizons.
A week ago, she would never have bought into any of this. Now she was taking it all in stride. Which, in a bizarre, convoluted way, made sense. Because science was evidence-based, outcome-based. And she had plenty of evidence now that sorcerers and demons were real.
She shivered as the wind swirled through the open door. Part of her was actually
relieved
by Amy's revelation about her nocturnal activities.
The way Amy had been talking about being into some bad shit and being afraid of herself, her mentioning one of the murder victims—Gavin Johnston—had made Vivien's blood run cold.
She'd experienced an instant of horrified suspicion that Amy was going to tell her she was a murderer, a serial killer hunting down men and ripping their guts open in order to feed. In the same instant, she'd been disgusted with herself for even entertaining the suspicion.
Amy… the girl who couldn't kill a bug.
Who tied people up and hit them for a living.
To each their own. By Vivien's standard, spanking guys for money was infinitely preferable to murdering them.
So many emotions gusted through her, swirling, nipping, sending eddies in all directions, a bunch of little tornadoes dancing around inside of her.
She reached into her pocket and recoiled as her fingers connected with the charm that Amy had given her. She hadn't wanted to take it, but she was certain that Dain would want it. And the scientist in her was curious enough to wonder what about these charm bags fascinated him, and what she felt when her fingers connected with one.
This bag was the worst so far, a black sludge of despair and grief swamping her every time she touched it. Magic? Was it magic? Dark magic in opposition to the light that she'd seen Dain wield?
A sound caught her attention, and a quick glance over her shoulder revealed a man's back and leg disappearing into the bathroom.
She could hear the noise of the crowded coffee shop. In that instant, she thought that the fresh air was far more appealing than the crowd. What was it with her and crowds lately? Great swarms of people made her feel so edgy, like some kind of unseen current shimmered around them, touching her. Sometimes it felt okay, but sometimes it was creepy, leaving her feeling like their energy wormed its way inside her.
She really didn't want to go back through the shop, weave between the tables. She wished she could just duck out the back here and scoot down the alley. A quick walk and she'd be at Dain's car.
It wasn't like there was any danger. She could see the street and the people walking past. It was broad daylight, and the alley was empty except for a Dumpster at the far end, up against the wall. Still, she hesitated because Dain had been so clear in his warnings. He obviously thought that she needed to be wary.
So she'd be wary.
Which meant she'd go out the front.
The air gusting through the open back door was crisp, and she paused to button the shearling coat. Raising her eyes, she was startled to see Dain standing at the mouth of the alley. The sun was at his back, leaving his face in shadow, but she knew the cut of his hair and the shape of his body, the clothes he was wearing.
Stepping out, she let the door swing shut behind her.
Her high heel caught in a rut, and she lurched sideways, losing her balance. Slapping her hand against the wall, she stopped herself from falling. Damn, she knew there was a reason—besides the fact that she was already five foot nine in socks—that she never wore heels. But her choices had been limited this morning: The stiletto-heeled boots that Dain had conjured for her or her fuzzy green slippers. She sighed. It really was time to go shopping.
Glancing up, she saw that Dain had stopped about halfway up the alley and stood, waiting for her.
Glad as she was to see him, she definitely had a word or two to say to him.
He'd followed her into the Second Cup! How could he have done that? Oh, she hadn't seen him, but she'd sensed him, felt him standing close. He'd been there. She was absolutely sure he'd been there almost the entire time, doing some kind of magical cloak-of-invisibility thing.
She supposed the one saving grace was that Amy hadn't known he was there.
"Dain!" she called as she walked forward, babying the ankle that had twisted when her foot slipped. A dull ache radiated through the joint, but she could walk on it, so she figured it wasn't sprained.
He turned fully toward her then and smiled.
Skidding to a stop, Vivien froze, fear raking her with a scraping stroke.
The eyes
. Oh, God, the eyes gave it away.
Despite the right clothes and the right hair and even the right face, this wasn't Dain.
Even as the thought formed, the shape writhed and undulated, like oil poured into water, and the face contorted until the thing that stood before her looked nothing like Dain.
It was a monster, its features twisted with malevolence and cruelty, its mouth a wide red slash, the lips pulled back to reveal dark gums and row upon row of sharp, jagged teeth.
A demon.
Cold terror knotted Vivien's chest, making every breath a battle. Her mind skittered through her self-defense checklist but drew a blank. Nothing could have prepared her for this. Nothing.
"Dain!" she screamed, finding her voice as she skidded backward, her boots sliding in the slush. Already weak, her right ankle turned again, sending out a radiating ripple of pain as her back slammed up against something hard. The wall. She felt the hard, rough brick as she eased sideways, her palms scraping along the building.
She was clammy cold, her breath coming in shallow, panting gasps, terror eating at her. Stupid. Stupid. Why had she stepped into the alley?
Because she'd thought Dain was there, waiting for her. Because she'd thought she was safe. Her stomach turned over on a slow, sick roll.
Heart hammering, she choked back a sob, then yelled with all she had. "
Dain! Dain
!"
"Oh, yes. Please yell. Scream. I like that." The creature smiled, revealing row upon row of razor-edged teeth. "He won't hear you. I've blocked your cries and the sight of this alley from the street. And I really must thank you. You've done half my job for me, depleting him like that. I'd be surprised if there's anything left in him now."
The words flew at her, but she could barely understand them. How had she depleted Dain?
The demon reached for her, hands like reptilian claws, the nails curved and yellowed, darkened by a crust of dirt. She could smell sulfur and the stink of decay. Death. Old death.
Her heart slammed against her ribs, leaving her feeling woozy and light-headed. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think, her fear so strong it was a choking smog wrapping her in stifling, bitter desperation.
Bile burned the back of her throat, and her fear was like a living thing writhing and twisting inside her.
For each step she edged along the wall, the demon prowled forward, stalking her. Enjoying her terror.
Yellow eyes, flecked with red, watched her with lethal intent, and she couldn't look away. Petrified, she was pinned like a bug, breathing so fast and shallow that she felt starved for air, dizzy with it.
One more step, and she came up against a second wall, at right angles to the first. Shuddering, she glanced about. Oh, God, she'd thought she was moving toward the mouth of the alley, but each step had taken her farther in until she was at its deepest point. How… ?
Nowhere to go. Trapped.
OhGodOhGodOhGod
.
Dain. Dain. Dain.
He wouldn't come. Wouldn't know to come.
No one to save her but herself.
She splayed her hands against the brick, her breath harsh and rasping, her vision narrowed until all she saw, all she knew, was the demon. In that instant, it became her whole world.
Ducking right, then left, she gasped as the thing moved with her, so terrifyingly quick.
She scrambled to the side. In a blur of movement so fast she saw only a vague distortion, it fell on her, hot breath sending puffs of white to cloud the air at her face. Frantic, she struggled under its weight.
The demon pressed the flat of its hand against the center of her chest, a harsh pressure that pinned her in place, the tips of its talons digging through her coat and sweater, into her skin. She could barely breathe, couldn't scream, could only watch in sick horror as it leaned in and let its long tongue uncoil from its mouth in a slimy, fetid ribbon.
With a hum of satisfaction, it licked up the side of her neck.
Nausea churned in her gut, and she renewed her struggles, flailing and squirming, desperate to be free of the demon's weight on her chest. That earned her a grunt and a hard shove. The last of her breath left her in a wheezing gasp.
"A tasty morsel…" It stared at her for a long moment, its expression indecipherable. She thought it looked perplexed, but her vision was hazy, spots dancing before her eyes. "Are you a sorcerer?"
The pressure on her chest eased a little.
"Breathe," it whispered, the rancid stink of its breath choking her as she gulped for air. Then it pressed again, cutting off her air and her ability to scream for help.
Leaning in, it licked her again, and the nausea in her belly rolled up her throat. "Tasty, tasty, but what are you, my dear? Not a sorcerer, but you taste as rich. Perhaps it is just the sorcerer's magic that you stole."