Anthony moaned, fully awake now, and arched his back so she could swallow him deeper.
Instead, Eva sat up, straddled the boy, and slipped his penis into her wet vagina. He was exquisitely hard and throbbing. She wrapped her thighs around him and hurled him deeper inside her with each blow. Moaning, the boy met her every movement with a thrust of his own pelvis. Eva leaned back, eyes closed as he thrust his long rod deep into and out of her. Soon she felt hot waves rising in the back of her neck and her lower spine, like two opposing rivers of energy rushing toward each other and powerfully converging in the center of her back.
Finally, she collapsed on him, trembling, shaken by her own climax, as the penis in her also pulsed with pleasure.
He whispered something she could not understand. Probably a compliment or some thanks, something useless. She rolled to her side, got up, went to the chaise lounge facing the bed, and sat down. She reached for the glass she had set on the table an hour earlier. It was still half filled with vodka, and she brought it to her lips.
“What are you doing?”
“Well, I’m waiting for you to leave,” Eva said, her voice very calm.
“To leave?”
Anthony sat up and stared at her.
“But…”
“You didn’t think you were going to sleep here, did you?”
He thought about it for a moment.
“No. Well, maybe. I don’t know. I don’t understand.”
“What don’t you understand? I have to be at work in less than four hours. I really don’t have the time, you know. So, please.”
“Really?”
Eva raised her glass.
“Don’t make me kick you out, okay?”
Anthony staggered out of bed. He picked his clothes off the floor and started to get dressed. Eva went to the bathroom. She got into the shower, closed the glass door, and let the stream of water cascade over her body.
As she turned off the water, she heard the sound of the door being closed at the far end of the apartment. The boy had gotten the message.
She did not particularly like being so direct, but she had long ago come to the conclusion that it was the only way to avoid trouble. This way, at least, she was sure she would never see him again.
She turned the shower back on to shampoo her hair.
She spent a few more minutes at the sink brushing her teeth. Then she rinsed her mouth and dried her face with a towel.
When she came back into her bedroom, she saw a piece of paper on the bed. She picked it up and, somewhat amused, saw that the boy had left his phone number for her.
It was touching. She balled up the note and tossed it into the wastebasket across the room.
She felt a sudden draft on her naked legs.
Deep inside, an alarm went off.
She turned to the archway that opened to the living room. Lights came from the moving city outside the window.
“Anthony? Are you still here?”
She got no answer.
She crossed the bedroom. No, her living room was deserted. At the far end of the room, the hallway light was still on.
The door to her apartment was ajar. That was where the draft was coming from.
Eva relaxed. The idiot had not shut the door properly, and it had opened again after he left.
She crossed the living room, mumbling to herself. She closed the door and locked it.
Then she caught the scent.
It was a light metallic smell that she did not recognize right away.
She did not have time to think about it. Something was moving behind her.
She spun around.
“Who’s there?”
Nobody answered. She seemed to be alone in the apartment.
She pulled her bathrobe tighter around her as she tried to get a grip on the danger she was sensing.
Was she picking up on some sound at the edge of her senses? Like breathing?
No, that wasn’t it. What she felt was more menacing than simple breathing, and now all her senses were on full alert. The homicide detective, trained and used to facing danger, immediately took up the reins.
She stepped behind the sofa to use it as a buffer between herself and whatever was there.
There was someone in her apartment. She was convinced of that.
Someone who was waiting.
She could not see the intruder, but she could feel his presence with every fiber of her body.
The scent. She recognized it.
It was a smell that she had known well since childhood.
It was the smell of blood.
Her thoughts began to race. Her service weapon was in the bedroom. She had to get it. Now.
She crossed the living room and passed a mirror on one of the walls. A reflection caught her eye.
It was an animal.
A wolf.
Eva stopped in her tracks, trying to understand.
This was no dream. She really was seeing a wolf in the mirror. The beast was black and scrawny, its hair mangled. Bearing sharp fangs, it was watching her. A red unearthly light shone in its eyes.
Eva did not look behind her. She realized that this was no reflection. That beast-whatever it was-was really on the other side of the glass.
She stood straight, keeping her eyes on the animal. She thought of the demons in ancient myths that were said to be capable of traveling in mirrors. She tried to find a logical explanation. She found none.
The wolf, for its part, crouched, as if getting ready to spring. Eva could not hear any sound, but she could see its dingy yellow fangs when it growled. Its eyes seemed to burn with even more ferocity.
Her hand closed on the first object it met. The vase on the coffee table. It had cost her a fortune.
Eva hurled it at the mirror.
The mirror shattered, exploding with a cry that was like hundreds of screams.
Eva stepped back, trying to collect herself. Was it a hallucination? Some new and unexpected after effect from all the drugs and alcohol she had consumed? Or maybe it was something else, something way more dangerous. Until she could understand what was really happening, she would not let any fantasy near her.
The hardwood floor was now littered with glittering debris. She thought about the shattered mirrors they found in the victims’ houses, and a sense of urgency rushed up inside her.
Whatever it was that was going on now, it had happened to the victims too.
And none of them had survived.
Eva spun around to make sure she really was alone.
She was.
At least she seemed to be.
But the feeling of being watched would not go away.
She rushed to her bedroom. Her Beretta was in the nightstand drawer. She grabbed it and took off the safety. She pointed the gun in front of her, aware of how ridiculous a defense it was against an invisible enemy, yet reassured by the feel of solid steel in her hand.
The alarm clock now displayed five thirty.
The apartment was silent.
“Who’s there?” she called out again.
Only distant thunder outside answered her.
“Come out,” she insisted. “I know you’re here.”
The intruder, if there was one, remained invisible.
Her hurried movements had caused her bathrobe to come open. She felt horribly vulnerable, and no way was she going to remain half-naked. She took off her robe and hurried to put on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.
Then she straightened, guarded, looking for a pair of socks that she dropped before managing to put them on.
She thought she’d heard a…
…yelp?
Ridiculous. It was ridiculous, wasn’t it? Still, she had to understand what was going on. To understand it very quickly, before everything fell apart.
She felt movement behind her.
It came from the mirror in her bedroom.
She pivoted and barely had time to see the shape of the wolf in the reflection.