Her curiosity stirred. “Sounds interesting.”
He watched her with a knowing expression.
“You like the hunt, don’t you?” he said. “Even though there’s a heavy downside.”
“Like isn’t the right word,” she said slowly. “But yes, I do get something out of it. Using my talents is satisfying. I can’t explain it but in a way I need to do it occasionally.”
“So do I. I’ve come to the conclusion that finding justice for the victims is the way we exorcise the visions and the voices.”
A sense of intuitive wonder swept through her.
“Yes,” she said. “That’s it. I’ve never thought about it in those terms but that’s the way it works for me, too.”
He walked to her and cupped her face in one hand and kissed her slowly, taking his time. When he finally raised his head, excitement was sparking through her.
“Good night,” he said.
She managed to make it all the way to her bedroom without looking back over her shoulder. She didn’t need to do that. She knew he was watching her from the doorway. She could feel his eyes on her. Everything inside her got very, very warm.
A few minutes later she climbed into bed, took the deck of cards out of the bedside table drawer and propped herself against the pillows.
Robin and Batman curled up beside her.
She dealt herself a game of solitaire and tried to tune out the dark voice that whispered to her.
…Burn, witch, burn….
Twenty-seven
The figure at the end of the bed was silhouetted against the window. She knew it was a man but she could not see his face. She tried to move, to cry out, but neither her limbs nor her voice responded. She was frozen with terror.
“Mother tried to drive out the demon but every time she punished me she only made him stronger. Now I serve the demon. He has made me more powerful than any witch. You will be punished, and then you will burn…”
She came awake to the feel of something warm and soft against her cheek. She opened her eyes and saw Robin standing over her. Batman was on the other side. He touched his small nose to her shoulder and meowed softly.
Her nightgown was damp. She shivered with the ice-and-flames sensation she always got when the voices invaded her mind at night.
She sat up, gathered both cats in her lap and buried her face in their fur.
“Thanks, guys,” she whispered.
“Had a feeling it would probably be bad tonight,” Zack said from the doorway. “Didn’t think the solitaire would do the trick. It’s bad enough when the voices are talking about someone else, a stranger who is usually already dead. You can get a little distance. Puts an entirely different spin on things when you’re the target and the voices are talking about you.”
She raised her head and looked at him. In the low glow of the night-light she could see that he was wearing pants but nothing else.
“Has it ever happened to you?” she asked.
“In a way.”
“Very cryptic.”
“Sorry,” he said. “Long story.”
“And one you don’t like to tell.”
“It doesn’t improve with repetition, trust me.”
He had a right to his secrets, she thought. She’d only known him a little over twenty-four hours. How was it possible that a man she had met just yesterday was standing there, only inches outside her bedroom?
How was it possible that a serial killer had gotten inside her condo tonight and left a warning?
Her life was tumbling into chaos.
“Didn’t mean to wake you,” she said.
“I wasn’t asleep.” He did not move out of the doorway.
“I actually got to sleep but then I started dreaming. I think I had a mini panic attack.”
“No surprise there.”
“No.” She stroked Robin. “In hindsight, I was definitely overdue.”
“Remember, your psychic side is hardwired directly into your intuition. When your senses perceive a threat, it stirs up all those good old and extremely primitive fight-or-flight reflexes.”
“You certainly do know a lot about this kind of thing.”
“That’s because I had the advantage of being raised—”
“Within the Arcane Society community,” she finished crisply. “Yes, you have mentioned that on one or two occasions.”
“Just trying to explain.”
“I know. I seem to be a little prickly when it comes to that subject.”
“Then let’s change the subject.” He waited a beat. “Want to play some blackjack?”
Why not? She certainly wasn’t going to get any more sleep tonight.
“Okay,” she said. She started to push the quilt aside, intending to stand and put on her robe.
“No need to get up.” He glided into the room, pausing long enough to switch on the bedside lamp. He left it on its lowest setting. Then he sat down on the edge of the bed. “We can play right here.”
Based on previous experience, playing cards in a room that contained a bed was probably not a good idea, she thought. But Zack was already dealing.
“Are we going to play with real money again?” she asked.
“I can think of only two things that make a game of cards interesting.” He gave her a slow, wickedly sexy smile. “Money’s one of them.”
She awoke to the gray light of a rainy morning and the sensation of a warm, heavy weight pressed against her back. Not Batman or Robin. She could feel the cats at her feet. Also, neither of them possessed a long arm like the one wrapped around her waist. She looked down. That was not a cat’s paw positioned just south of her right breast, either. It was a very large, very powerful, very masculine hand.
She spent a few seconds exploring memories. There had been several games of blackjack. She had been on a winning streak for quite a while. They had kept score on a pad of paper.
At some point Zack had gone into the kitchen and brought back the bottle of scotch that she kept in a cupboard for Andrew and Gordon. She recalled drinking one or two glasses, possibly three. Shortly afterward things had gone pleasantly vague.
She levered herself up on her elbows and looked at Zack. He had pulled the bedspread up to his waist for warmth but he was still on top of the quilt and still wearing his pants. She could see the broad expanse of his bare chest.
Shock jolted through her. “Zack.”
He opened his eyes and regarded her with lazy, masculine appreciation.
“We didn’t play strip poker last night, if that’s what’s worrying you,” he said.