S. Harper - Cursed

“Breathe,” he says.

My cheek is pressed against something hard and cool.

Kallistos’ chest.

“It’s been far too long since you’ve so fully let it go.” His lips graze the top of my head. “You’ve grown unused to it. Just ride it out. You’ll be right as rain in a minute. Assure your wolfhound.”

“I’m fine, Zack.” The words fall unbidden from my lips. Kallistos is in my head. How can this be?

I move away, put distance between the vampire and myself until my head stops spinning. This time when I speak, it’s on my own. I face Kallistos. “Take care of Dexter.”

Then I turn my back on him, step again to the door. My hands are shaking, but when I try this time, the door opens. There’s a blast of cool air. Then Zack’s arms are around me. I lean into him.

“What happened?” Zack asks.

“He told the truth. He won’t harm Dexter.” My words sound hollow. I can’t meet Zack’s eyes.

Zack lifts my chin. “I meant what happened to you.”

One of Dexter’s monitors begins to beep. It’s been disconnected. His IV lines have also been pulled out. They’re draped over the bedside pole, contents from the bags drip onto the floor.

Kallistos holds his wrist to Dexter’s mouth. The smear of blood on his lower lip tells me he punctured his wrist with his own fangs. Dexter sucks hungrily at the blood, a reflex action over which he has no control. Kallistos strokes Dexter’s hair as he feeds, watching me.

When color returns to Dexter’s face, Kallistos calls out, “Tony!”

One of the two who came in with him comes to the door. “Yes, sir?”

“The data?” Kallistos asks.

“It’s all backed up on a server. Peter has control of it. There are a few handwritten notes. I have them boxed and ready to go.”

Dexter’s eyes are closed, but his throat is still working. Kallistos gently disengages Dexter’s mouth from his wrist, then passes a hand over Dexter’s face. Dexter falls back onto the pillows, his face relaxed in sleep. Kallistos’ wounds close instantly, but not before leaving several bright red dots on the clean white bedsheets.

Kallistos turns to Tony. “Use the van to take him home. Wait for him to come to, then make him forget what happened here.”

The minion nods and steps toward the bed.

Kallistos exits and walks past Zack and me. He stops in front of the sink Zack used earlier and washes the remnants of blood from his wrist. He’s talking over his shoulder. “Make sure you take the notes with you, Tony. Security is the priority. We don’t want any loose ends.”

“Understood,” Tony answers.

Tony and his crony go to work, following orders like good little soldiers. Within seconds they are heading out, one with Dexter wrapped in a sheet and thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, the other carrying a box.

Kallistos approaches, the paper towels he used to dry his hands now wadded into a tight little ball. Without breaking his stride he lobs it across the room and into a trash can. “We’ll clean the rest of this up. You’ve done enough.” He offers Zack his hand. Any animosity he felt toward Zack seems forgotten.

Zack’s animosity obviously isn’t.

“His intentions are honorable,” I tell Zack. I’d tasted the truth of Kallistos’ statement. And his power. The effect lingers like a shot of adrenaline. I try to push it out of my head. I look around. “We could use the help, Zack.”

Zack peers at me, but he knows how limited our options are. He’s frowning reluctantly, but he nods. The two men shake.

Then Kallistos kisses my hand.

The sensation of his mouth on my hand lingers, warm and wet.

Revulsion tightens the lines around Zack’s mouth. He takes a step forward.

I stay him with a look that conveys Kallistos isn’t worth it. We have our own loose ends to wrap up. Alan Pierce and Davis Mager. Mager can wait a bit, but Alan is still handcuffed to the radiator in his office. We need to get back and release him.

“We should get out of here,” I say.

“Go. I will deal with this,” Kallistos assures us.

Zack isn’t ready to let go of his anger. “How are you—”

But Kallistos has Zack locked in his gaze. “Go.”

Zack backs away. A rush of anger sends blood to my face. Kallistos is compelling Zack and he is powerless against it. At the same time, I know it’s useless to object. We have to get back to Alan.

We leave Kallistos kneeling by Dr. Pierce’s body.

Once outside, I breathe in the fresh air. It clears my head and stops the pounding of a heart still racing from the encounter with Kallistos. I may be the stronger one when it comes to mind games, but he left an imprint of his power etched deep in my psyche.

“Are you sure about him?” Zack asks me as we slide into the car.

“Yes,” I say. There’s no hesitation. Still . . .

Zack fires up the engine.

Before he can pull away, I put out a hand to stop him. “Wait a second.” Someone is emerging from the building, coughing and sputtering. A man I’ve never seen before. He’s heavyset, in his forties, maybe fifties, and dressed in a uniform. The logo on his collar is the same as the one on the sign out front. He’s on his cell phone “Look.” I point him out to Zack. “Must be the security guard. Can you hear what he’s saying?”

Zack lowers his window and listens.

Just then, Kallistos strolls out. His car is waiting for him across the street. He ignores the man on the sidewalk, walks right past him, just as the man ignores him. But then he nods toward the guard and winks before crossing to his car.

“Son of a bitch,” Zack growls.

He reaches for the door handle.

I reach for him. “What is it?”

Zack points to the man on the phone. “He’s saying there’s a gas leak. Kallistos is going to blow up the goddamned lab.”

The man takes off at a slow run and starts jogging down the street, away from the building.

Kallistos’ car pulls away. If the speed in which he is making his departure is any indication, we don’t have much time.

I tighten my grip on Zack’s arm. Kallistos’ wink as he passed the guard suddenly makes sense. “You can’t go in there!”

“People could get hurt. Humans, Emma.”

“He said there were only four heartbeats. Yours, mine, Dexter’s, and that guy must be the fourth. The building’s clear.”

Zack points to the adjacent ones on either side. “Those may not be. This is far from foolproof. There’s going to be collateral damage.”

He’s right, of course. I look around. The entire area is a blend of new and old construction. An explosion and fire down here could quickly get out of control. But there’s no way we can stop it now.

“We need to put some distance between us and the building fast,” I say.

Zack is shaking with fury. “Letting him handle the cleanup was a bad call. What the hell were we thinking? Call 911. Tell them to get an emergency crew here. Jesus, Emma. We’re going to need a good story.”

Zack throws the car into gear and steps on the gas. The car lurches forward.

I grab my cell and dial.

It rings once.

We drive past the security guard, huffing and puffing.

It rings again. The emergency operator answers. I give her my name and badge number. “We’re in front of a medical building on the corner of Fourth and Hawthorn. Send emergency vehicles right away. The building’s about to—”

An explosion drowns out the rest. The force of it pushes us forward. I feel the rear tires of the Suburban lift off the ground. The cell phone flies out of my hand and onto the floor. We spin. Somehow Zack prevents us from flipping. When the car comes to a stop, we’re facing the building. Car alarms are going off all around us, and rooftops are covered with the glass that rained down upon them from the nearby buildings. A fire hydrant in front of the building is spewing water into the street. The man who called in the “gas leak” is lying facedown on the blacktop. Zack takes off at a full run in his direction. I search frantically for the cell phone, find it. I’m still connected to the emergency operator.