"And all my stuff is here. Come on, I'll find you something to sleep in for tonight, and we can go by her place in the morning so you can change."
"What, you mean there aren't any bits of female clothing left behind by overnight guests? I thought every man had a drawer full of those."
"Fishing, Dani?"
She got out of the car, waiting until he joined her on the walkway to say dryly, "Of course I was fishing. Since when was I ever subtle about stuff like this?"
"Stuff like this?"
She decided it was probably a good thing for him that she really was tired, because otherwise she would have picked up something and hit him instead of replying with the simple truth. "Continuing the process of reconnecting."
He stared at her, one brow lifting.
"I'm really too tired to play games," she confessed. "And that is what we've been doing the last few days. Isn't it?"
His front porch light was on, and he stood there at the door, keys in hand, and looked down at her steadily. "That depends. Are you planning on sticking around this time?"
"I thought I would." She hadn't realized she was going to say it until she did.
"Then," Marc said as he unlocked the door, "we're definitely reconnecting."
She followed him into the house, struck immediately by the fact that he had totally redone it; a decade before, this had been the house left to him by his parents, but now it was unquestionably Marc, an uncluttered, clean-lined Craftsman, both masculine and sophisticated.
"Nice," she told him, looking around.
"Well, the eighties look sort of dated the place. And I really didn't like dark green and pink as a color combo."
"It's not my favorite either." She cleared her throat, allowing herself to become aware of the tension between them. The very deliberate choice surprised her, not because she made it but because she was able to.
Huh. It's like opening a door. A weird kind of control I've never had before. Was I shielding without even thinking about it? Or just suppressing until I had the time and energy to deal?
"I know it's late," Marc said. "But I have some ice cream from Smith's in the freezer. If that's still the ritual."
"It is." She went with him into the bright kitchen and was quickly sharing with him a bowl of the best homemade vanilla ice cream in the world.
"This alone could have brought me back to Venture," she told him.
"Mmm. I thought it took a vision. And a threat to Paris."
"I didn't know the threat was to her."
"I think on some level you did." Marc shrugged. "But either way, you knew something bad was coming here. And you came back to help."
Dani put down her spoon and looked at him steadily. "You're wondering if I would have come back here eventually, without the vision."
Lightly, he said, "Is this more of Paris 's abilities? Are you clairvoyant now?"
Without answering that directly, she said, "It doesn't take a clairvoyant to see the obvious. Marc, I like to think I would have matured enough at some point, even without a vision, to stop running away from who I am. But all I really know for sure is what I told you before. There's nobody waiting for me back in Atlanta. There never has been."
For a moment she didn't think he was going to respond, and then he said, "I don't have a drawer filled with bits of clothing left behind by overnight guests. I haven't been a monk, Dani, but… there was never anybody I wanted to bring home. Not since the beautiful assistant left the magic show."
Dani didn't know who moved first and didn't really care. All she knew was that the instant his arms closed around her and his mouth covered hers was the first time she truly felt she had come home.
It was the nightmare brought to life, Dani thought.
The vision.
The smell of blood turned her stomach, the thick, acrid smoke burned her eyes, and what had been for so long a wispy, dreamlike memory was now jarring, throat-clogging reality. For just an instant she was paralyzed.
It was all coming true.
Despite everything she had done, everything she had tried to do, despite all the warnings, once again it was all-
Oh, shit. Not again.
"Dani?" Roxanne appeared, seemingly out of the smoke at her side, gun drawn, vivid green eyes sharp even squinted against the stench. "Where is it?"
Huh. This is new. But I guess…
"Dani, you're all we've got. You're all they've got. Do you understand that? Which way?"
Wish I could see something in all this smoke. Something to tell me where this building is.
It seemed easier this time for her to concentrate on the stench of blood she knew none of the others could smell. A blood trail that was all they had to guide them.
Well, that and this vision. Why do I keep going through the motions? There must be a reason.
She nearly gagged, then pointed. "That way. Toward the back. But…"
"But what?"
"Down. Lower. There's a basement level." Stairs. She remembered stairs. Going down them. Down into corridors everywhere, and-No, wait. That wasn't this vision. That had been during the dream-walking.
Hadn't it?
Hallways in every direction, brightly lit, featureless but almost humming with energy.
Energy?
"It isn't on the blueprints."
"I know." She dragged her mind back, wasting an instant to wonder how she could do that and yet couldn't seem to deviate from the vision-dream script.
I told you all this before, dammit. No, wait-I told Hollis all this before. So where is she? And why is somebody else speaking her lines?
"Bad place to get trapped in a burning building," Roxanne noted. "The roof could fall in on us. Easily."
Exactly her lines.
Bishop appeared out of the smoke as suddenly as Roxanne had, weapon in hand, his face stone, eyes haunted. "We have to hurry."
"Yeah," Roxanne replied, "we get that. Burning building. Maniacal killer. Good seriously outnumbered by evil. Bad situation." Her words and tone were flippant, but her gaze on his face was anything but, intent and measuring.
It was always Hollis before. Why isn't it now?
"You forgot potential victim in maniacal killer's hands," he said, not even trying to match her tone.
"Never. Dani, did you see the basement, or are you feeling it?"
Oh, right-I have Paris's abilities.
"Stairs. I saw them." The weight on her shoulders felt like the world, too heavy to cast aside, so maybe that was what was pressing her down. Or… "And what I feel now… He's lower. He's underneath us."
"Then we look for stairs."
Dani coughed. She was trying to think, trying to remember. But dreams recalled were such dim, insubstantial things, even vision dreams sometimes, and there was no way for her to be sure she was remembering clearly.
Dammit, why do I keep going through the motions? Why don't I just lead the way to the damn stairs?
And where the hell is Hollis?
Why is that different this time?
Is it me?
What in God's name did I do?
She was overwhelmingly conscious of precious time passing and looked at her wrist, at the absurdly childish Mickey Mouse watch with its bright red band and cartoon face that told her it was 4:17 P.M. on Monday… October 13.
What? Oh, my God. That's tomorrow.
Why, dammit?
What the hell happened to change the date?
"Dani?"
She shook off the momentary confusion. "The stairs aren't where you'd expect them to be," she said, coughing again. "They're in a small room or office, something like that. Not a hallway. Hallways-"