Kay Hooper - Blood Dreams

"The Director had to fly to the West Coast for a few days and is due back in D.C. by Wednesday," Bishop replied. "I've got several of my people wasting time in Boston running a shell game to disguise my absence, so I should be covered until then. If the hunt is still on in Venture, I go back to coming down here as often as I can on a corporate jet that does a regular twice-daily run from Atlanta to Boston and back."

"True commitment," Gabriel said politely. Before anyone could comment, he got to his feet and began unfolding a large map onto the conference table. "Roxanne and I have been checking out warehouses and other likely buildings during the last few days; I think if we compare notes, you'll be able to cross off over half the ones on your list."

IT WAS NEARLY MIDNIGHT when Marc parked his cruiser in the driveway of his house a few blocks from the sheriff's department, and Dani was still arguing. "Marc, I slept for eighteen hours. I-"

"You didn't sleep for eighteen hours, you were out for eighteen hours. Big difference. And," he added before she could interrupt him, "I did not sleep."

"I didn't say you shouldn't rest, I said I didn't need to."

"You also said I was your guardian-or words to that effect-and your guardian sticks to you like white on rice. And you stick to him."

"I just feel like I should be doing something to help find the killer," Dani said.

Marc turned off the car and opened his door just enough for the interior light to come on. He looked at her steadily. "Are you afraid to dream this time, is that it?"

"I'm always afraid to dream. But that isn't it. I don't believe the killer has regained enough energy to come after anybody, and it's not like I can plan to have a vision dream, you know that. It happens or it doesn't. Passive, remember? I'm tired of being passive. I need to be doing something, Marc, something useful."

"Listen to me. Everything that can be done is being done. Everybody who's not absolutely dead on their feet is out in teams searching buildings or at the station combing through property records. The only thing you or I could add would be two more pairs of tired eyes. We both need a break, Dani."

She really couldn't argue with that truth-or didn't want to. But she did say mildly, "All my stuff is at Paris 's house."

"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.