Kim Harrison - Hotter Than Hell

She stiffened. The wards! They were a part of Danny now; he had taken over maintaining them since Selene had other problems. But they were originally her wards and would answer her call.

And they would have recorded what went on inside Danny’s walls.

“Jack here.” Detective Jack Pepper’s cigarette-rough voice came over the line. “What the hell ?”

Her voice almost refused to work. “It’s Selene. Something’s killed Danny. Jack, Nikolai’s here.” I sound like I’m twelve years old again. And scared. I sound so scared.

Selene heard Jack breathing. “Jesus, why is he there? Forget it; I don’t want to know. Hang up and call 911. You got it?” The sound of cloth against cloth filtered through the phone. Jack was sitting up. Maureen’s whispered questions, then…silence.

“I…He c-c-called me. Said he was c-c-cold and something about danger.” Autopilot pushed the words out, she listened to her own ragged gasping breath. Danny, oh God. Danny. Jesus Christ …

“Selene, put Nikolai on the phone, honey. Now.” Jack was fully awake. A click and a flare of a lighter, deep indrawn breath. It must be bad if he’s smoking in bed, Maureen won’t like that.

She handed the phone to Nikolai. He slid closer, pressing her into the phone booth, his fingers kneading heat into her neck.

I wonder what a gun would do to him? The thought surfaced, she pushed it hastily away. She wasn’t sure if he could hear it; Nichtvren were psychic as well as physical predators. If he heard her, what would he do?

“Yes?” Nikolai paused. “Bad enough…No, not human…I did not. Nor did she. The door is shattered. She will of course not enter the apartment.” Selene strained to listen. “Of course. I will stay out of sight. I would not want to cause trouble for my Selene.”

Her neck muscles burned. My Selene? Oh, boy. We’re going to have to have a talk about that, suckhead.

Selene’s mind skittered sideways. Danny. The door. What happened ? Nikolai brushed his thumb over her nape. Lightning shot down her spine and burst in the pit of her stomach. Oh, God .

“I will.” Nikolai reached over her shoulder again, hung up. He gently turned her to face him, Selene didn’t resist. Her head was full of a rushing, roaring noise, his voice came from very far away. “You must call the emergency services, Selene. You received a call from your brother. It was interrupted and you came to see if he was well. You noticed the door had been forced and decided to call 911. Do you understand?”

She stared up at him, his face suddenly oddly foreign. He looked more like a stranger than ever. Selene took a deep shuddering breath, fury crystallizing under the surface of her mind. “Why are you doing this, Nikolai? One dead human, more or less.”

His fingers tightened. “One dead human under my protection, dear one. Whatever killed him is very dangerous. Now you will call the emergency services and you will be a very good girl for me.” He touched his lips to her forehead, a gentle kiss that made her body burn, fire spilling through her veins. How can I even think about that when Danny’s upstairs?

Hot acid guilt rose in the back of her throat. I should have gone in there, I should have seen.

Her eyes filled with tears. “I hate you,” she whispered, looking up into Nikolai’s dark eyes. “I hate you.”

“Call them.” The corner of his mouth quirked up, as if he found her amusing.

She turned back to the phone and blindly picked up the receiver. Punched the nine, the one, the one. A deep breath. Nikolai moved away suddenly, and she swayed, grabbing the metal edge of the booth to steady herself. One ring. Two. Three. Four. Five.

“911, what are you reporting?” A passionless, professional voice, possibly female.

For one awful moment Selene couldn’t remember who she was or what she was doing. The metal bit into her fingers. Blood pounded in her ears and the hallway swirled beneath her. “My-my brother. He c-c-called me. I c-c-came to his apartment and the d-d-door is b-b-roken and I’m afraid t-t-to go inside.”

How strange , she thought from inside the glass ball of hysterical calm descending upon her. I sound like I’m scared to death. It was her voice giving information, stammering out the story to the operator. Danny never left his apartment. The door was broken. She was afraid. Tiny diamond mice fleeing the huge black wolf running around in her brain made her voice jittery, made her hands tremble.

She glanced over her shoulder. The empty foyer glared under the fluorescents. There was no sign of Bruce or of Nikolai, though the medallion throbbed a heated beat between her breasts. A heartbeat. His heartbeat?

The urge to tear it off and throw it away made her shake. Danny. Oh, Danny, please. Please, God.

She slumped, trembling, against the phone box. Her nails drove into her palm. The terrified mice spun round and round inside her brain.

“Miss, please try to be calm. We have dispatched a unit to your location.”

Try to be calm? Danny. Oh, God. How can I be calm if you’re dead?

THE FOURTH TIME THE OPERATOR TOLD HER TO BE calm, Selene jammed the phone back down. She looked across the mailboxes to the stairs, and the medallion tingled harshly against her skin. A warning. Her throat was full of something hard and slick, she swallowed several times, resting her forehead against cool cheap metal.

Don’t go back, the operator had said. Stay outside the building. Stay and wait for the police. It’s safest to wait for the police, ma’am.

Selene’s hoarse inarticulate moan bounced off the stairwell walls. The stairs squeaked under her slow feet. Her legs burned numbly.

She only got halfway up to the first floor before Nikolai’s hand closed over her elbow. She gave a startled, wounded little cry and found herself facing him, looking at his chest. He was somehow on the step above her, and his mouth moved, fangs flashing in something less than a good-natured grin. It was more like a smirk, or a warning.

“No,” he said. Selene stared at him, and he gave her a little shake. Her head wobbled, the entire stairwell reeling. “Outside. This is not for you.”

“He’s my—” Her mouth was so dry the words were a croak.

“Your brother. Yes.” He used his grip on her arm to pull her down the stairs. Selene went limp, resisting him, but he simply dragged her as if she weighed nothing. Her boots dropped from stair to stair as if they weren’t attached to the rest of her. “You cannot help him now. And I would not have you see this, milaya. ”

“I hate you.” The fluorescents seared her wet eyes. “I wish I’d never met you.”

He gave a gracious nod, as if she’d complimented him. “Thank you.” They reached the bottom of the stairs. He half-carried her across the peeling linoleum. He shouldered the door to the building open, dragged her out and let the door go. The lock engaged.

Selene looked up at him. He set her down on the cold, wet sidewalk and brushed her hair back, settled her camel coat on her shoulders, stroked her sore damp forehead, she’d be lucky to escape a bruise from cracking her head against the wall.

His fingers were still warm. Too warm to be human, feverish, but oddly soothing.

She hated that comfort.

Distant sirens cracked the still air. Breathe , she repeated. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Breathe.

The mantra didn’t help. “I mean it. I hate you.” Her voice shook. “I hate you.”

“And yet you need me.” He smiled, an almost-tender expression that made her entire body go cold. Selene would have fallen over backward, but his fingers closed around her wrist, a loose bracelet. Sirens hammered at the roof of the night. “Selene, you do not wish to see what lies in that room. Remember your brother the way he was.”