Grey Dawn (10 page)

‘Please?' Emily pleaded.

Lloyd and Raleigh exchanged a glance, but after a second's silence grumbled something that sounded like assent. ‘We're walking Emily home though.' Lloyd pulled himself up to his full five-six.

‘Thanks.' Emily beamed at him and took his arm. ‘I'd appreciate that.'

‘In which case, I'm taking you home.' Trista linked her arm through Dulcie's. ‘I'd say we'd all had enough adventure for one night.'

With that, Lloyd and Raleigh started off, their charge leaning heavily between them. A faint prickle at the back of her neck and the memory of that soft voice prompted Dulcie to call after them. ‘Raleigh?' She turned. ‘The kitten?'

Raleigh smiled, pulled her jacket open. The kitten's fuzzy head appeared, his eyes closing drowsily.

‘Please don't give him to Martin Thorpe.'

Raleigh started to respond and caught herself. ‘We'll talk tomorrow. Okay, Dulcie?'

‘Just – please, don't do anything before we do. Okay?'

Raleigh must have heard something in her tone. ‘Okay, Dulcie,' she promised. ‘I won't.'

‘What was that about?' Dulcie could hear Emily ask. Before she could catch the response, though, Trista had taken her arm back and was pulling her toward Mass. Ave.

‘Well, that settles it,' Trista was saying. ‘It's the boyfriend.'

‘What?' Dulcie was still trying to eavesdrop on their departing friends. Trista, however, was quickly hustling her out of hearing range.

‘I heard the cops had taken the other girl's boyfriend in for questioning.' Trista was taller than Dulcie and walking fast, and Dulcie had the distinct impression that she wanted to get her away from Raleigh and the kitten – and the remnants of the party – as soon as possible.

‘I know that's what the cops suspect, but they don't have any proof.' Dulcie tried to order her thoughts, which was difficult to do at this pace. ‘And besides, Josh is Mina's boyfriend, not Emily's.'

‘Josh? You know the jerk?' Trista stopped suddenly, and turned toward Dulcie, her eyes growing wide. ‘Dulcie, don't tell me you've gotten involved with him in any way.'

‘No, I'm not.' Dulcie was grateful for the chance to catch her breath, but she still couldn't find the words. ‘I'm not
involved
with him. I've met him, that's all, but I really don't think he's the type.' Before Trista could argue, Dulcie started walking again and Trista had to follow. ‘I know, you think I'm a softie. But think about it, Trista. Even if he did attack Mina in a fit of jealousy, why would he go for Emily? He has no reason to be jealous of her.' She was rather proud of that bit of logic.

Trista shrugged, unimpressed. ‘Guys like that don't need a reason.' At least they were walking at a more reasonable pace. ‘He thinks Mina cheated on him. He thinks Emily helped. He thinks they joined forces to deceive him, or that Emily is laughing at him. Hell, maybe he thinks Mina cheated on him
with
Emily. Wouldn't be the first time. Or maybe it's not related to jealousy at all.' Trista looked over at her friend. ‘Maybe he wants to scare her so she won't tell the police what she knows.'

‘She doesn't
know
anything.' Dulcie thought back to her first meeting with Emily. ‘She wasn't accusing him of anything. When she came to my office, she made a point of telling me that Josh and Mina had a good relationship. That Mina was used to male attention, but that she was committed to Josh.'

‘Maybe Emily only said that because she was afraid of him.' Dulcie started to interrupt, but Trista was on a roll.

‘Or maybe it was true. Who knows? That still doesn't mean he didn't attack her. Maybe Josh just lost it, blamed Mina for this “male attention” she was getting.'

‘Or maybe it was someone else entirely.' The fresh air had cleared Dulcie's head, and she was thinking. Professor Lukos had come late to the party. He'd have passed this way and … there was something else. ‘Professor Lukos. Did you notice how he was holding his coat over his hand? Like he was hiding it?'

Trista gave her a half nod. ‘Maybe. Or maybe he just didn't want to put a nice coat down where it would get sherry spilled on it.'

‘Emily said she fought.' To Dulcie it all seemed quite reasonable. ‘She might have scratched him. Drawn blood.'

‘Yeah, that's true.' Trista smiled, and Dulcie realized that her friend had been holding herself back. ‘I thought you were going to say he'd been bitten by a wolf.'

Dulcie opened her mouth – and shut it. That possibility had occurred to her, back at the party. ‘Trista, if you'd seen Thorpe, last night. Out in the moonlight.'

‘Look, I know Thorpe is a beast sometimes. Really.' Trista paused and took her friend's hand. ‘I understand he's been giving you a hard time. And I know how much pressure you're under. Believe me, I know.' She stared at Dulcie until her friend nodded in agreement. That much was true: Dulcie remembered how crazy Trista had gotten as she had finished her dissertation. ‘But you shouldn't – I mean, you've got to be careful what you say. You're not used to drinking, you know.'

‘I'm not drunk, Trista.' She wasn't now, anyway. Though, truth be told, she did recall feeling a little dizzy and out of it. ‘I'm just tired. And, well, I can explain. It all makes sense. The moon and all.'

‘But it's not even a full moon.' Trista pointed and Dulcie looked. Sure enough, a slight flattening showed on the upper right of the lunar orb.

‘Yesterday, however—'

‘Nope.' Trista shook her head. ‘Yesterday it was even further from full. I know it's been bright. I swear, it's like someone's been shining a flashlight in my window. I heard something on the news about it being particularly close to earth.' She looked up. ‘But it's not full, not tonight. Though if this is any indication, it's going to be a doozy.'

‘Wait, it's
going
to be?' Dulcie was looking at her friend, not up at the sky.

‘Uh huh,' Trista nodded. ‘The full moon is tomorrow.'

T
he combination of the sherry and everything else should have left Dulcie exhausted, but she felt strangely wired by the time she'd climbed the stairs. Strangely wired – and not only awake, but driven. A quick text message to Chris –
Trista walked me home. All locked up! –
and she was at her desk, that curious manuscript open before her.

‘I know it doesn't make sense, Esmé, but there's something here,' she said as the young cat jumped up to peer at her laptop. ‘Something in this book that ties everything together.'

As if in response, the little tuxedo cat began to wash furiously, attacking her inside hind leg as if it were possessed.

‘You don't have a flea,' Dulcie looked up. ‘Do you?' The cat ignored her, moving on to the pink spaces between her toes, and Dulcie returned to work.

‘For dangers abound on this Road, as the bilious Moon rides to her turbulent zenith, and I would be your Friend.' Deep in the shadows, the Stranger sat, regarding her with hidden eyes. Silent, since his initial salutation, he watched steadily, as the storm beyond raged and those fiendish things, the Beasts of the Night cried their blood-curdling cries.'

‘Meh.' A paw appeared, dabbing at the cursor on the screen.

‘No, Esmé.' A little carelessly, Dulcie brushed the paw away. It reappeared, as Esmé batted at the cursor. Not, Dulcie told herself, at the word ‘Friend.' She read on.

‘Beasts of the Night cried their blood-curdling cries …'
This was better: Dulcie needed to focus on the text, not on some vague hope that this character was some kind of precursor of her own spiritual friend.
‘Cried their blood-curdling cries?'
The awkwardness of it hit her. Surely the author meant to revise that. The paw reappeared.

‘Ravenous as wraiths, they sounded, calling for their prey in voices meant to freeze the very Blood. Only the Stranger …'

‘Meh!' More insistent, this time.

‘What?' A small fang appeared over the edge of the laptop as Esmé began to gnaw on the computer. ‘No! Esmé, stop!'

Dulcie slammed the computer closed and found herself face to face with her cat. ‘I know I've been busy, Esmé. But at least I'm working at home. I'm trying.' The wide green eyes stared up at her. ‘You know, you can talk to me, Esmé. If you want to.' The cat tilted her head, as if to get a better view of her person. The look could have been an appraisal, leaving Dulcie feeling that in some way she had been found wanting, when it hit her: Esmé hadn't been fed.

‘Of course.' Dulcie got up and headed for the kitchen. Esmé bounded ahead. ‘Sorry, kitty. Everything that's happened has taken over my mind. In fact …' As Dulcie reached for the cat food, she realized how hungry she was, as well. That soup had been hours before, and the effects of the sherry were just about worn off. The apartment larder wasn't as well stocked with people food as it was with Fancy Feast, however, and Dulcie contemplated going out. Not yet eleven, Mary Chung's might be closed, but Hi Fi Pizza would still be open.

Dulcie was going for her sweater when the realization of what she was about to do stopped her. Another woman had been attacked tonight. Granted, both the attacks had been in Harvard Square, a full mile from where she was now. But she'd told Chris she'd be careful. Besides, as good as pizza – extra cheese, pepperoni, mushrooms – sounded, Dulcie really wanted to read more of the manuscript. It was funny how it seemed to expand. She was reading a section now that she had only the dimmest memory of transcribing. It was almost as if …

‘Mr Grey? Are you sending me stories now?' The vague thought that she had pushed aside while reading came back to her now. ‘Did you somehow appear to the author?' It made no sense; she knew that. Still, she couldn't help but wonder. But as she looked around the empty kitchen, the only sound was Esmé lapping at her dish. That was enough to remind Dulcie of her own empty belly, and soon she was digging into a monster-size bowl of Cheerios.

Of course, her phone rang. ‘Mwah?' she managed, removing the spoon from her mouth.

‘Dulcie! Are you okay?' It was Chris, sounding a little panicked. Rather than scare him further, Dulcie worked at swallowing the wet mouthful. ‘Dulcie?'

‘Sorry, Chris,' she said at last. ‘I'm here. I'm fine. You just caught me with my mouth full.'

‘Oh, thank god.' He sounded so relieved that Dulcie grew curious.

‘Didn't you get my text?'

‘I got something, but it was garbled,' her boyfriend sounded more like himself. ‘All I could make out was something about “locked up.” I was trying to tell myself that this was good. That whoever went after that woman had been locked up. But all I could think of was you, out there …'

He sounded like he could go on, but Dulcie interrupted. ‘I'm fine, but Chris, there was another attack. Another student – right by the department office!'

‘I
knew
it.'

Dulcie kept talking. ‘It was Mina's room-mate – she's the girl who was attacked last night. Tonight it was Emily, whom I know, sort of. She's in one of my sections. But we found her. There was a kitten in the alley—'

‘Wait, hang on, Dulcie. From the beginning?'

Chris didn't really mean that, Dulcie knew. It would take hours to go back over the entire evening and what she'd heard – or deduced – about the visiting professor, Thorpe, and the moon. Besides, she realized, in retrospect, she was a little embarrassed. She had accused the possible next head of the department of a horrible crime without much proof. And then she had blurted out her worst fears. Granted, to her friends, but …

‘Dulcie?' She could make out muffled voices; he was calling from the computer lab. She should make it quick.

‘Sorry, I was trying to figure out where to start.' With that, she decided that the best place was right near the end, as they were leaving the party. She told Chris about hearing something – to him, she could confide that she'd thought she'd heard a roar, and then a voice that sounded like Mr Grey – and then finding the little orange tabby. And then that feeling that something was wrong, was still very wrong – and finding Emily. ‘So Lloyd and Raleigh walked her home,' she concluded. ‘And Trista walked me home.'

‘Wait, you didn't call the police?'

‘I wanted to, Chris. I really did – but she, Emily, wouldn't let us.' Dulcie thought back to the younger woman's resistance. ‘Do you think that's weird?'

‘I do, but …' He paused. ‘You know, it makes sense.'

‘What do you mean?' Esmé had finished her own dinner by then and jumped up on the kitchen table. Dulcie pushed her away as she bent to sniff at the cereal bowl. ‘No, that's mine,' she mouthed. The cat turned away, with an insulted air.

‘Well, the cops said it was probably a domestic, right? I bet she knew him.'

‘But she said …' Dulcie stopped. What Chris had said fit – up to a point. ‘Why wouldn't she turn this guy in?'

‘Maybe she's afraid.' Dulcie wondered about that as she absently stroked the cat. ‘Maybe she feels culpable in some way. Ow!' Esmé had turned and given her a sharp nip. ‘Sorry, that was just Esmé. I don't think I can do anything right by her tonight.' Unless, she wondered, the little cat was trying to tell her something. ‘What do you mean, “culpable”?'

‘I don't know.' Chris was sounding tired, and Dulcie realized he was less interested in the details of the attack than in her own welfare. ‘Maybe she was involved with him, too. Or, hey, with her room-mate. Stranger things have happened.'

Either way, it was important – and it echoed what Trista had said, too. ‘Well, there's nothing like that holding me up,' she decided. ‘I'm going to talk to Rogovoy first thing tomorrow. I've got to make sure he knows what's going on.'