Caterpillar, a Paranormal Romance With a Touch of Horror (5 page)

I was sliding into my sexy, strappy shoes when the doorbell rang. I scurried to open the door, nearly falling face down on the hardwoods when I stepped on the short train of my dress.  Luckily, I caught myself and managed not to rip the material. 

I flung the door open.  I must’ve surprised Scott.  “Wow!  Look at you,” he said, his mouth slightly agape. 

“That’s the second time I’ve heard that today,” I teased.

“You look…luminous,” he said, his soft bronzy-brown eyes glowing in appreciation.

“It’s my lotion.  It—“

“No.  It’s just…you.  You just…
glow
.”

“Thank you,” I said simply, wondering at his odd behavior.  If it wasn’t so ridiculous, I’d have said he was enthralled, but that didn’t make any sense.  I shook my head, passing it off as another weird thing I’d have to think about later.

Twenty minutes later, I was taking a deep breath and securing my public “mask” as we entered the pre-function area of the Grand Ballroom at the Ritz-Carlton, Atlanta.  

Local politicians as well as minor celebrities decked out in their finest stood beneath the crystal chandeliers and tray ceilings.  I jacked my chin up a notch, put on my most confident smile and glided beside my dashing companion across the room to where Scott’s boss, District Attorney David Arnes, stood.

David was attractive, with perfectly coiffed salt-and-pepper hair and perfectly straight too-white teeth.  He’d taken suave a little too far, though, which had landed him somewhere between lounge singer and cheesy game-show host.  My skin crawled in his presence, but I guess people did what they had to do to keep their head above water in the shark tank of Atlanta politics.

He looked similar to a famous sports announcer, like, at any minute, he might take a microphone dangling from the ceiling and announce, “Let’s get ready to rumble!” 

Penelope Rider, David’s paralegal, appeared at his side.  Penelope was nice enough and cute in a pixie-like way. Her close-cropped hair was bleached the whitest white, but it suited her petite frame.  Evidently she was David’s companion for the night.  By the multitude of stars that shone in her eyes when she looked at him, I guessed she’d like to make that the case on a more permanent basis.  And she made no efforts to conceal her fascination.

Ick!
I thought, but who was I to judge?

I was looking casually around the room, trying not to stare at Penelope’s glow-in-the-dark hair, when my gaze collided with the blue eyes I’d had no trouble picturing earlier.  Detective Tegan.  He was staring at me like I’d begun levitating or breathing fire or something, like he wasn’t quite sure what to make of me.  My stomach did an involuntary little flip. 

In his formal attire, he was breathtaking.  The dark material of his tuxedo hugged his thick, wide shoulders then cut in sharply to accentuate his flat stomach and trim waist.  The perfectly tailored pants couldn’t hide the shift of muscle in his thighs as he walked. 

He moved with the grace of a large cat.  He was cutting a path through the crowd, heading right for me.  My stomach fluttered with anticipation as he drew closer. I felt like prey. 

He didn’t stop until he was mere inches from me.  He stood, looking down into my face.  I felt a little dizzy and realized that I hadn’t taken a breath since I saw him.  I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply.  That only worsened matters when his intoxicating scent flooded my nose.  Fire pooled in the vicinity south of my navel and my mouth went dry as cotton.

“That dress was made for you.  Your skin is…you shimmer,” he said, his voice husky.  My eyes popped open.  As compliments went, it wasn’t the most eloquent, but something in his expression made it
feel
like prose.

Somewhere in the distance I heard a familiar voice.  It called my name once, twice then a third time before it broke the spell.  With a start I realized it was Scott.  I mentally shook myself back to the present and turned my attention toward my date, a little embarrassed that I’d been so consumed by someone else. 

When my manners finally kicked in and I turned to make introductions, Scott wasn’t standing where I expected.  Somehow he was several feet away. 

I looked around and recognized that it wasn’t Scott who had moved; it was I who wasn’t standing in the same place.  Apparently, drawn to him in a truly physical way, I’d walked toward Detective Tegan without even realizing it.  I held my hand out to Scott and, without missing a beat, he stepped forward and took it.

“Scott, this is Detective Tegan.  He’s with the Atlanta PD.  Detective, this is Scott Newly, Assistant District Attorney for Fulton County.”

“Newly,” Detective Tegan said.  He was still looking at me, but his expression had shifted to one much less flattering.  Finally, his eyes moved on to Scott as he stepped forward to offer his hand.  No polite smiles, no false pretenses.  Tegan was all serious.

Scott released my hand to shake Tegan’s.  When it returned to me, I felt it slide possessively around my waist.  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes when I saw the smug smile tug at the corners of his lips. 

Men!

“What brings
you
here?” I couldn’t hide my surprise at seeing Detective Tegan in such company.  He was a cop after all, hardly considered part of Atlanta’s upper crust.

“Believe it or not, I have friends in high places, too,” the detective said.  He understood all too well what I was thinking.

“I didn’t mean—” I began, but he cut me off.

“Of course you did.”

A deep booming voice from over my left shoulder called to Scott, saving me from trying to talk my way out of
that
.  Our trio turned in unison as an older bear of a man approached.  He had a shock of white hair and a bloated red face.  He looked like he could pop at any minute.   He shook Scott’s hand and immediately engaged him in conversation.

A warm hand slid under my right elbow and pulled me away from Scott’s side. 

“That’s a nice necklace.  Where’d you get it?”  Detective Tegan had successfully extricated us from Scott’s company.  His eyes were trained on my throat. 

“It’s a gift from my aunt.”

“How long have you had it? It looks old, like an antique.”

“As a matter of fact, it was a birthday present.”

“Is that right?  When was your birthday?”

“Today,” I said, casting my eyes toward the floor, suddenly feeling shy.

“How old?” 

“Twenty-four.”

“Twenty-four and beautiful,” he said softly. 

Reflexively, I reached up to touch the swath of hair I’d purposely let fall from my up-do, reassuring myself that it was still draped over my scar.  His fingers caught my hand before it reached my brow, however, bringing my fingers to his mouth, a breath away from his lips. 

“Beautiful,” he repeated, his eyes never leaving mine.  The deep rumble of his voice slid across my skin like velvet. 

And just like that, we were alone.  Everyone in the room disappeared.  I was trapped in steamy blue eyes that were getting warmer by the second.    

My senses were flooded with Tegan.  His eyes burned into mine, promising wicked pleasures that set my blood on fire.  His warm, dark scent filled my nostrils.  I could almost taste it on my tongue, like tasting midnight.  When his lips touched the skin of my fingers, electricity shot up my arm and tingled all the way to my toes.  Airflow through my lungs ceased and a balmy flush spread across my neck and shoulders. 

I watched, breathless, as his face drew closer to mine.  Then, suddenly, it veered off to my right.  His warm breath teased my ear when he whispered, “Happy birthday.”  It was simple.  It was sincere.  It was incredibly erotic.  I was hypnotized. 

When Tegan leaned back, the fire in his eyes had cooled.  Still very much in the heat of the moment, I wondered absently why I was suddenly alone in it.  Then I heard a voice, closing in to my right.  It offered all the explanation I needed for the abrupt change.  It was Scott.

“Senator, I’d like you to meet Ms. Catherine Deen.  She’s a Realtor here in Atlanta.  Cat, Senator Henry Keely.” 

I turned toward the senator and smiled.  “How do you do, Senator?  It’s so nice to meet you.”  Some men don’t shake women’s hands and he looked like the kind that didn’t so I was surprised when he extended his beefy fingers.  Automatically, I took them.

Our palms connected and a bolt of lightning shot through me.  It was like being hooked up to jumper cables.  I nearly soiled my beautiful gown. 

My vision swam as waves of dark images filled every corner of my mind, drowning all other thought in a silent sea of malevolence.  I saw the senator wrap his hands around the throat of a very young girl who lay naked beneath him.  I saw him shove the barrel of a gun under the chin of a man who I recognized as another politician but I couldn’t name.  I saw a trade happen at some kind of black tie event—money in exchange for a video.  I saw him watching from a distance as a young man was cuffed and put into the back of a police car. 

Though at times murky and unclear, I intuitively identified the senator’s role in each of the scenes, from rape to rage to extortion.  Somehow I was certain I was seeing a reflection of his soul, of the blackness that was eating away at him.  While it was impossible to describe, one adjective ran on a loop through my head:  evil.

I had no idea what was happening to me.  None of it made sense, what I was seeing, how I was seeing it or why.  I just knew the longer the images filled my mind, the more I felt like I was succumbing to…something, like he was siphoning away every good thing, every drop of hope and light, through the palm of his hand. 

Ambient noise became more distant, like I was hearing it through a tunnel.  A fuzzy gray fog drifted in from the periphery, closing in on the scope of my vision.  With all the strength I had left, I jerked my hand back.

Thankfully, once the contact was broken the intensity abated, but I was left feeling strangely hollow and exhausted and a little bit nauseous.  I felt the blood drain from my face, leaving a cold sweat in its wake.  I must’ve looked like I’d seen a ghost.  Everyone was staring at me like I’d sprouted snakes in my hair.

“You, too, huh?”  Tegan was looking at me intently, as though he was trying to get me to understand something, but I was too addled to grasp it.  “It
is
awfully hot in here.  Why don’t we get a drink and some fresh air while the Senator and Mr. Newly talk?”  Tegan took my arm again, this time more firmly, and guided me away from the senator, toward the ballroom and the bar.

He led me to a table and pushed me down into a chair.  Actually, he sort of guided my butt toward one then I basically fell into it.  I felt utterly filthy, like I’d bathed in the moral muck and mire I’d found inside the senator’s head.

“Are you alright?” Tegan asked, squatting in front of me at eye level. 

“I’m fine.  I’m so sorry.  I don’t know what came over me.” And that was the truth.  I didn’t quite know what to make of the strange incident, but I was a little scared and a lot confused.

“Someone walk over your grave?”

“I’m sorry,” I said again, stuck in apology mode.  “I’m just a little out of sorts today.  That’s all.”

“Do you know Senator Keely?”

“No.  Why?”

“Just curious.”  Tegan walked to the bar to get me some water.  “Want to step outside for a few minutes?”

“Sure.”  As I began walking toward the exit sign, I felt the detective’s hand at the small of my back.  His presence wasn’t affecting me like it had earlier.  I was shaky and feeling vulnerable and the strength in his touch was somehow soothing, comforting.

The cool February air smacked me in the face when I stepped outside.  I welcomed the clarity it brought to my head.  I took a long, refreshing sip of water.  The liquid was a soothing balm to my suddenly parched throat.