Chapter Thirteen
Robertson didn’t follow Taz home, and there were no calls on the answering machine. She switched her BlackBerry off, locked the front door behind her, and locked herself in her room.
She filled the tub and sank into the hot water, closing her eyes and trying to sort her thoughts.
This is a dream. A really, really bad dream. There are no such things as demons or vampires.
Babson didn’t disappear into a flaming pile of ash. If Criss Angel could appear to levitate on a city street, surely a man of Matthias Hawthorne’s considerable means could concoct an elaborate hoax.
And her employer—and admitted yummalicious hunk—was not a vampire.
She was not a vampire.
Correction, ex-employer. Despite her attraction to him, after that display there was no way in hell she was working for him anymore. She’d pack and be back in LA by the end of the week.
Or she’d wake up in the morning in the hospital, suffering from the flu or food poisoning. Part of her prayed that was the real answer, because despite the crazy events, part of her dreaded not working for handsome Matthias Hawthorne anymore.
Her doorbell rang. Fuck that, I’m not answering it. She didn’t care who it was. She sank lower in the water, trying to calm her nerves.
It rang again, then a third time, over the next few minutes. Finally, it stopped.
Talking cats. Exploding demons. Vampires…
Taz woke up and realized she’d dozed in the warm water. After drying off she donned her pajamas and robe. A glance out the window and she saw it was now past dark. Just her car in the driveway. Robertson must be giving her a wide berth tonight.
As damn well he should.
Taz stuck her head out the bedroom door. Dark. She made her way to the kitchen and turned on the light before grabbing a glass of wine. She felt she’d need more than that.
She remembered the doorbell. On the front step, she found a large bouquet.
How expected.
She sighed and brought it inside, locking the door behind her. She took the card and her wine back to her room, stopping to pick up her BlackBerry.
The card was in Matthias’ tidy script. He must have followed her from the office to get it out there that soon.
Anastazia, I’m sorry I couldn’t confide in you sooner. I never meant for you to find out like this. Please forgive me. I understand if you don’t want anything to do with me, but for your safety, will you please talk to me?
“For my safety?” She snorted. Oh, isn’t that just a tad on the melodramatic side? She balled the card up and flung it across the room where it hit the wall and landed on the floor.
A loud thump shook the back of the house, startling her. She slipped on a pair of sneakers then grabbed the 9mm from her purse, chambering a round and checking the safety.
One of the back windows shattered as she opened the bedroom door. She raced to the bedroom phone. Dead.
She didn’t have time to power up her BlackBerry.
From the bedroom doorway she yelled, “Whoever you are, get out! I have a gun, and I will kill you.”
She heard a growl. The hair on the back of her neck stood up. She heard more glass breaking.
“That’s what you think.” The voice sounded barely human. There was something so cold, so harsh about it that made her want to crawl into her closet and hide.
Taz fought the urge to run and released the safety, bringing the gun up. Moving to the other side of the doorway, she kept the wall between her and the voice. It was large, whatever it was, with loud, ragged breath.
“I’m warning you, leave now!” She put the hall corner in her sights and tried to quiet her breathing. Her pulse raced, in her throat, in her head, in her chest. Praying she could keep the gun still, she held her breath.
There was another growl, closer. “Don’t run. You’ll only make the meat tough.”
What fresh hell is this? She had to be dreaming, still in the tub, right?
Wake up, Taz. Wake up now!
A misshapen shadow loomed around the corner. She prepared to pull the trigger when her front door exploded. The intruder howled as she jumped and squeezed the trigger. The bullet plunged into the hallway wall three feet up. A dark blur and a flash flowed past her, down the hall, and sounds of a violent struggle ensued.
She moved to follow but two pairs of arms were on her, pulling her toward the front door. She tried to fight. Robertson whispered in her ear, “Taz, it’s us, hurry!”
Taz let him take her and realized Albert was with him, and as they left she heard the sounds of a vicious fight. She managed to thumb the safety on the gun before they none too gently shoved her, headfirst, into the backseat of Matthias’ car. Thompson dove for the wheel, and they roared off, tires squealing.
She saw through the back window that her front door was splintered. “What the hell was that?” she screamed once she’d caught her breath.
Robertson ended up in the backseat next to her and exchanged looks with Albert in the mirror.
“Oh, stop that,” she yelled, close to hysterics. “Don’t do that. Tell me, goddamn it!”
Robertson grabbed her hand, the one without the gun. “It was an Other.”
“Another what?”
He shook his head. “Not ‘another.’ An Other.”
“What was it?”
“If we were casting a movie, we’d be looking for someone to play a werewolf. But that’s not what they really are. Shape-shifters are totally different, and they are our allies. These…I can’t begin to explain it right now, but if you were to call it a werewolf, you’d be close. They have always been called ‘the Others.’”
She felt her sanity slip yet another notch. “But what—” She stopped. “Wait. Who was with you? Did someone go after it?”
They exchanged looks again, and it hit her. “Matthias. That’s what I saw?”
Robertson nodded. “He went after it with the sword—”
“A sword? Are you shitting me? Fuck that, I’ve got hollow points!” She swatted the back of Albert’s seat. “Go back, turn around!”
Thompson tightened his grip on the steering wheel, speeding through the dark to I-75. “I can’t do that.”
“We’ve got to help him!”
“We can’t. We are under orders to get you to safety immediately. If the Others are after you, you are not safe.”
“But what about—”
“Taz,” Robertson said quietly, “Matthias knows what he’s doing.”
She didn’t like it. Whatever it was, the growling, gravelly voice she’d heard sounded like pure evil. She feared for Matthias. She also hated that she worried about the big fink and felt scared for him. She tried to cling to what little bit of sanity she could.
They coaxed her out of the car at Hawthorne’s compound. They’d parked safely inside the garage, and the men took up secure positions around her, Albert ahead and Robertson behind, as they led her inside the house.
She curled up in a large chair in the corner of Hawthorne’s living room and glared at them, not speaking, the gun lying in her lap. There was no word from Matthias. She tried not to worry, but it broke through her anger, and she kept thinking about the growling voice, the fearsome dread that filled her when she heard it.
Will Matthias be okay?
Thirty minutes later, Albert quit pacing and left driving Hawthorne’s Hummer. Yes, totally incognito, that huge, yellow vehicle.