Touch of Darkness (24 page)

The piano was still in the corner, although the lace cover and all the family photos were gone. The big old dark wood instrument had been waxed until it glowed. Someone had filled in the holes in the wall above it with spackle and repainted. If I hadn’t lived here before, I might never have known there had once been family pictures hanging there. The entire room had been given a fresh coat of Navajo White paint. I’m not a big fan of the color, but it’s neutral, which is why realtors and landlords use it so often.

I was glad to see they hadn’t painted over the bookshelves. The old-fashioned varnish still glowed warmly, the wood stain exactly matching the darker boards in the hardwood floor. I was sorry to see that the cases were empty. Someone had gotten rid of all the old Nancy Drews and classic paperback mysteries that had filled the shelves. There were logs in the brick fireplace that took up most of the north wall, but I could tell they were for decoration, not for burning. There was no tinder, no kindling, just a tidy stack of three large logs piled in a perfect pyramid. I closed the door behind me, flipping the latch to lock the dead bolt and started making my way through the house, looking at it with new eyes, from the perspective of an owner rather than a guest. The kitchen was next. I stepped inside, setting my bags on the counter with a sigh of relief. The big gas stove was old, but I’d taken a good look at it when I’d stayed here before, and it was in perfect condition. Someone, probably Brooks, had recently replaced the piping. The kitchen set was old enough to have become trendy again. The table had chrome legs and a wide band of chrome around the edges, with a gray-flecked Formica top. The chairs had chrome legs, with metal seats and backs painted fire-engine red. They probably weren’t the most comfy things in the world, but durable, oh hell yeah. They might well be around for the next ice age. The linoleum was old, but still in good shape, and had been waxed until it positively glowed.

The refrigerator wasn’t new either, but it was spotless. When I opened the door I found it echoingly empty, the sole occupant an open box of baking soda.

I put the soft drinks in the freezer in hopes that they would chill before my company arrived, and stripped the frozen pizzas from their packaging and stuck them in the oven to bake. I went to throw the trash in the bin that had been under the sink. It was gone. In fact, there didn’t seem to be a trash can anywhere in the kitchen or pantry. Just lots of empty cupboards and shelves.

I wadded up the wrappers and stuck them back into the plastic bag in which I’d carried them, then hooked the bag handles over the back door. I should probably make a list of things I’d need to buy, like a broom, dustpan, mop, and bucket. For the moment, however, I just made a mental list and kept exploring.

Every other room in the house had been as lovingly tended as the living room and kitchen. I loved the workmanship and character to be found in every detail, from the hardwood floors to the built-in, glass-fronted bookshelves that flanked the big brick fireplace. Oh, it wasn’t perfect. There was only one bathroom, and it was small, but it had one of those monstrous old claw-foot tubs that is actually deep enough for a person my size to take a real bath and soak my tired muscles.

Right now the place seemed a little barren, mainly because all of the little “personal touches” that had made it a home had been removed—probably at the behest of a real estate agent. I’ve heard it said that a house with family photos and too much “stuff” won’t sell. I don’t understand that. To me, it’s the little things that make a house a home. It would take time to add all of those “touches,” but there was one thing I wanted to do immediately. With great care I took the plaster chunk from its bag. Using one of the paper towels I’d brought home I gently wiped off the worst of the grime, then walked into the living room to give it a place of honor at the center of the fireplace mantel. I was glad to see that the master bedroom hadn’t been repainted. I suppose it was because they’d have had to steam off the old-fashioned floral wallpaper I loved so much. It would have been a lot of work, and a hired crew would’ve charged a fortune for it. So the flowers remained, along with the antique furniture and crimson drapes. Brooks’s childhood bedroom was next. The formerly sky-blue walls were now a neutral cream, the blue and white plaid curtains and white chenille bedspread replaced by heavy drapes and a matching comforter in the same shade of midnight blue as the carpeting. The darker color made the room seem smaller to me, almost cramped. Here, too, all evidence of occupancy was gone. There were no athletic trophies on the shelf. It was just a bland, impersonal room. I wandered from place to place, thinking about where I would put the various possessions Tom and I had that had survived the building collapse to fit them in with the existing pieces, thinking about the changes I’d suggest to Tom when he got off shift.

A heavy knock on the front door startled me enough to make me jump and give one of those odd little “eepy”

screams. Okay, maybe I was a little bit nervous and creeped, but it wasn’t about the house. I stopped and peeked around the living room curtains to catch a glimpse of who was visiting. A black and white Denver police cruiser was parked in front. A uniformed officer was standing in front of the door, his expression studiously blank.

“I’ll be right there,” I called out, and hurried over to the door. I swung it open and came face to face with a handsome blue-eyed brunette.

“Can I help you, officer?”

“Ma’am. I just got a call from the neighbors. I understand that this residence is supposed to be vacant. May I ask what you’re doing here?”

“Come on in. I’ve got to check the pizza in the oven.” I could smell it. It wasn’t burning yet, but it would if I didn’t get the heat turned off.

He followed me into the kitchen. I could see him looking around, his eyes taking in everything from my disheveled appearance to my plastic bag luggage. He thought I was a squatter. I almost didn’t blame him.

“The owner is Detective John Brooks. He’s renting the place to me furnished with an option to buy. I don’t have anything of my own because my building collapsed in the blizzard.”

He thought about that for a moment. “Do you know which station he operates out of?” He phrased it pleasantly enough, but I knew he was trying to verify my right to be here. Fair enough. I had nothing to hide.

“It’s the one on Colorado and 13th, a couple blocks from the park.”

Reaching for his radio, he hit the button and spoke to the dispatcher. “Can you patch me through to a Detective John Brooks at the Colorado station? I need to know if he’s rented a house to a…” he paused, waiting for me to provide the name.

“Kate Reilly.”

He blinked a couple of times rapidly. Apparently the name was familiar even if he hadn’t recognized my appearance.

“Kate Reilly,” he repeated. He slid the radio back into its holster. Meanwhile, I began rummaging around in drawers hoping to find something I could use to get the pizza out of the oven. They were empty, of course. Just my luck. Crap.

“I take it you forgot utensils?” He sounded amused.

“Last time I stayed here they were still in the drawer.”

Before I could say anything else I heard the slam of car doors and running feet. “Katie! Are you all right?” Bryan burst into the house with Mary at his heels, screen door slamming behind them.

“I’m fine. We’re in the kitchen. One of the neighbors just called the cops to make sure I had a right to be here.”

“Oh, thank God.” Mary stood in the doorway, practically shaking with nerves. She was upset enough that I was surprised. Okay, we’re friends, but I really wouldn’t have thought she’d care so much. Too, there was no sign of her beast. Then again, she’s always had excellent control.

Joe came up behind her. “We thought—” he didn’t finish saying what they thought. Probably best, all things considered.

The policeman’s radio crackled to life. “Brooks says she’s okay.”

“I kind of figured that out.” He grinned at me when he said it, but he clicked the button on his radio and gave a more “official” response to the dispatcher.

“Well, I’ll leave you folks to it.” He turned toward the doorway. Joe and Mary immediately moved out of the way.

“Have a good evening, and good luck with the pizza.”

“Thank-you, officer.”

“No problem. I’ll tell the neighbor you’re the new tenant, ask her to let everyone know you belong.”

“Thanks.”

I walked with him to the front entrance, watching until he’d reached the edge of the property before closing the door behind him.

“Why would you need luck with a pizza?” Bryan seemed genuinely curious.

“Someone cleaned out the kitchen. There are no utensils, hot pads, plates. Nada.” I turned to Joe. “I don’t suppose anything survived from my kitchen at the apartment?”

He shook his head.

“Well, doesn’t that just suck.” I stood there, hands on my hips, staring in frustration at the perfectly cooked meal I couldn’t touch.

Bryan laughed. “I’ll run over to the store. I need to check in anyway, see if they’re willing to give me my job back. Be back in a flash.”

He took off, leaving me with only Joe and Mary for company. It could’ve been awkward, hell, it should’ve been. But apparently Mary was so glad I hadn’t killed, been killed, or called the cops on Janine that she was ready to let go of some of her earlier anger. Besides, I think she was legitimately curious about the place where Tom and I would be living. She and Joe were wandering from room to room, commenting to each other about what they saw. They came out to the living room together to give their verdict.

“Nice, very nice,” Joe observed. “Is the furnace gas forced air?”

“I think so. I honestly haven’t taken the time to go into the basement and look.”

“Katie!” He was shocked.

“Joe, don’t fuss. We can replace the furnace if we have to. Brooks is giving us one hell of a good price on the place.”

“And you’re okay about the thing with Amanda?” He didn’t sound too sure.

“I’m fine,” I told him. Okay, well, maybe fine was an exaggeration at the moment. But I’d be fine.

“Hmpfh.” He didn’t seem to believe me. Then again, I’ve never been much of a liar.

“Joe,” Mary suggested sweetly, “why don’t you run out to the car and get the cat. You know how much he hates me.”

“You’ve got Blank with you?” I couldn’t keep the delight from my voice. I would’ve gladly followed Joe out to the car, but Mary kept me back with a hand on my arm. Apparently she’d been getting rid of him so we could have a minute of privacy.

“I didn’t tell Joe this, but Elaine had been having one of her people with Janine at all times. Not exactly under guard, but close enough. Annie was on duty the night she escaped. Janine ripped her throat out, stole her husband’s car, and disappeared.”

My stomach tightened into a knot of worry. “Did Annie make it?”

“She’s recovering. It didn’t kill her. She may even be okay in a day or two. I understand she has exceptional healing abilities, even for our kind. But the point is, Elaine has sent people out looking for Janine. She’s trying to get her back and into a treatment center before the police find out she’s jumped bail. So far they haven’t had any luck. Now that you’ve spotted her, they’re coming here. The official story is they’re coming to help us set up security for the Conclave.”

“Okay.” I kept looking at her, waiting for the other boot to drop. Because she was holding back something important, some bit of news I wasn’t going to like. I could tell by the tense way she held her body and the tone of her voice.

“Elaine is coming with them. She’s asked to stay with you.”

“No. Oh, hell no. So, so, no.”

Mary sighed and closed her eyes. “I’m sorry, Katie. She’s insisting. Says it’s the only way she can be sure of your safety.”

“That’s not why she’s doing it.” I sounded sullen. No surprise there. I felt sullen, and angry. I hadn’t even moved into my house yet. Tom was still on shift and already I was supposed to have some werewolf dignitary staying over?

“No, she’s doing it to be sure nobody gets killed. Not you, and not Janine.”

She stopped talking abruptly. I heard Joe’s heavy, unsteady footfalls on the porch steps accompanied by the familiar yowling of a supremely angry pussycat. “Blank,” I called to the cat, and was rewarded by the sound of him scratching at the plastic of the cat carrier.

I took the cat carrier into the master bedroom and shut the door behind me. Setting the carrier onto the bed, I opened the cage door.

He came out cautiously, almost twenty pounds of fur so white he practically gleamed.

“Oh, my God, she gave you a bath.” I didn’t look, but I was betting his claws had been clipped as well. Nothing was going to hide the criss-crossing of old scars that decorated his nose, but other than that he looked every inch the pampered purebred. I was stunned. Well and truly shocked. “And she lived to tell the tale? You didn’t tear her apart for her trouble?” I chucked him under his chin and was rewarded with a look. He might be purring, but the look in those gleaming green eyes was one of pure disgust and implied accusation. How dare I!

“Sorry buddy. I didn’t know she’d do that.” I stroked him gently in apology, only to have him roll over, grab my hand in his front paws and try to claw my wrist with his left. Lucky for me he’d chosen the left hand, and the foreshortened claws only managed to scrape harmlessly against my cast. “Hey, stop that.” I tapped him lightly on the nose with my index finger. It made him sneeze. I laughed, and he glared at me again.

“Yeah, well, can’t say as I blame you. It’s been rough for me too. And looks like it’s going to get worse before it gets better. Just wait until you meet our guest for the next couple of days.” I sighed. I didn’t want Elaine staying here. I really didn’t. And the cat would hate it. He’s barely gotten to the point where he gets along with Tom. All the other werewolves freak him out completely.

“I’m sorry, bud. I wish I could see a way around it, but I really don’t.”

That, of course, was the rub.

19

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I was asleep, in a comfortable bed, Blank curled up next to me purring. Down the hall I could hear Bryan taking a shower, getting ready for an early shift at the grocery. That was reality. I knew it. But that didn’t change what I was seeing, hearing, and feeling.