"And who told you this?"
Botnick shifted. "No one told me directly. But I've heard rumors for years now. About a group, very tight-knit and secretive, closed to newcomers. Dead serious, though. Scientific even, in their quest."
"These rumors. What else--?"
"Eric?" A woman's voice echoed down the chute.
Botnick opened his mouth, but Jeremy's forearm clamped on his throat. Botnick shook his head, whispering, "I'll get rid of her." Jeremy hesitated, then slackened his hold.
"Still looking," Botnick shouted. "I'll be up in a minute."
"Here, let me help--"
"No! I'm fine."
Jeremy motioned for me to circle around to the hidden exit. I did, steering clear of the chute. On the wall behind it was an opening, maybe thirty inches square. Jeremy had ripped the cover off by the hinges, the lock still intact. I shone the flashlight inside and saw a dark tunnel.
Behind me, Botnick was still trying to convince the woman he didn't need help, but the more he argued, the more suspicious he sounded. I'd just crawled into the passage when the entrance went dark and I glanced back to see Jeremy following me.
He pulled the cover on and the tunnel dimmed, lit only by my flashlight. As shoes clicked down the rungs, Jeremy crawled over to me, hand resting on my leg, and while I knew it was there to reassure me, I felt the heat of that touch burn through me, igniting thoughts very inappropriate under the circumstances.
"I said I was fine, didn't I?" Botnick snapped. "Now go back upstairs--"
"The office door was unlocked. Glen noticed when--"
"Yes, I was in there earlier. I probably left it unlocked."
The woman continued to argue, certain something was wrong and intent on figuring out what it was.
"Eric?" A man's voice now. "Did Dawn tell you about the office? You should have a look, see if anything has been--"
Footsteps on the concrete, coming our way. Jeremy waved for me to move fast.
"Eric? These boxes have been moved. The one in front of that old tunnel door..."
The voice faded as I moved away quickly, Jeremy at my rear. I crawled as fast as I could over the damp earth, the musty stink of it filling my nostrils, stones cutting into my palms and knees, skirt bunching up over my knees and slowing me down. I reached back with my flashlight hand, grabbed the skirt by the slit and ripped it, almost pitching face-first into a pit as my other hand came down on empty air.
I jerked back as Jeremy caught my legs.
"It drops off," I whispered.
"How far?"
I shone the flashlight down. As I did, a clanking sounded behind me and light filled the tunnel.
I leaned into the pit, holding the flashlight down as low as I could, afraid the sound of clicking it off would echo down the tunnel.
"Can you see anything?" Botnick's distant voice asked.
"No," the other man answered. "It's too dark. We need a light."
"Dawn? You'll find a flashlight in my office. Glen? Help me search the room, in case they're still here."
Shadows moved at the far end as they backed away from the opening. I peered into the pit.
"How deep?" Jeremy whispered.
It dropped down about four feet, then stretched into another tunnel. I twisted around and lowered myself. Water seeped through my nylons, my toes squelching in the mud below. It smelled foul but didn't stink like raw sewage.
Jeremy stepped down behind me, barely rippling the water. I considered asking for verification that we were not, in fact, standing in sewage...and decided I was better off not knowing.
I shone the light down the tunnel, but darkness swallowed it after no more than a yard.
"Is it me or is this light getting dimmer?" I asked.
"Hard to say," he lied. "Give it a shake."
I did, and the light seemed to flare brighter. "Should we wait here, or continue on?"
Jeremy peered down the tunnel, then looked back down the one we'd come in. A clank. I recognized the sound of the trap door opening and ducked even as Jeremy pulled me down.
A beam danced over our heads. Mud oozed up to my ankles, swallowing my feet.
"See anything?" a woman whispered.
"No," Botnick replied.
"Where does the tunnel lead?"
"To the street, I was told. Guy who owned the shop before me ran some underground political paper. Always worrying about being raided."
"I'm going in," said the other man.
"Wait, you don't know what's..."
I didn't catch the rest. They'd pulled back, their voices now indistinct. Jeremy leaned down to my ear.
"We should move. Can you put on your shoes?"
"Not if I plan to walk in this. I'm fine."
I started into the tunnel. He caught my arm.
"You're in stockinged feet and can't see where you're stepping."
"I'm--"
"Here--"
"Don't offer me your shoes. Gallant, but it hardly solves the problem unless you're going to squeeze into my heels. I'll be careful."
"Feel before you step. I'll lead and take it slow."
We'd gone about twenty feet when the water level dropped to a trickle and the ground beneath it turned to concrete. I was about to whisper "Well, that's better," when my flashlight beam flickered and went out. That was fate for you. Gives and takes, keeping the balance.
Jeremy's fingers reached back and brushed my arm, warning me that he'd stopped before I smacked into him.
CHIVALRY
"WHAT'S WRONG?" I whispered as Jeremy stopped.
"I can't see. Give me a moment."
We waited, the distant drip of water the only sound. It smelled different here--stale with an almost musky odor. Cold too. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying not to let my teeth chatter, which would only have Jeremy offering me his jacket.
"Hmmm," he said after a moment. "There must be a distant source of light. I can make out shapes, but barely, and it doesn't seem to be getting any better."
"No light at all means even you can't see, right?"
"I'm afraid so. My night vision needs something to work with. I'll move slowly. Here, give me the flashlight and your shoes, and put your hands--"
He guided them to his hips. I moved closer...just for safety, of course.
We started forward again, creeping along in the dark. We made it about fifty feet, and around the bend, when I heard a sound that made the hair on my neck rise. The chattering of tiny, needle-sharp teeth.
"Please tell me that's mice," I said. "Or underground squirrels."
"Okay."
I poked his back. "Liar."
"Don't worry. They're a ways off yet."
"Do you remember the psycho rats in Toronto? Did Elena ever tell you we were cornered by them?"
"No, she left off that part. Left off a lot of parts, I'm sure."
"Well, I had to kill some. The rats. Squashed their poor little skulls with a two-by-four and I know payback's coming. Bad karma for the rodent slayer. They can probably sense--" I stopped. "Jeremy?"
"Hmmm?"
"Something brushed my foot. Something furry."
"Don't worry. It was dead."
"Dead?"
"I smelled it, but thought it best not to mention it and hope you passed by."
"Preferably without stepping on it?"
"I'll warn you next time. It can be hard to pinpoint the exact spot, though. The best I can do is say, 'By the way, there's a rotting corpse around here somewhere.'"
"On second thought, ignorance is bliss. So where--?" I stopped as an overpowering stench filled my nose. "Oh, God, I think I smell a ripe one."
"No, that's just the nest."
"N-nest?"
"It's down a side corridor, I think. We'll be past it in a moment. They shouldn't give us any trouble."
"Right. The predator thing. Like the cat. They smell you and run."
"Hmmm."
Not a terribly reassuring response. Elena had told me before
that werewolves confuse other animals, that mix of wolf and human, and when confused and faced with a larger potential predator, they run. We'd had problems with the rats in Toronto only because they'd been infected and acting irrationally.
The chattering grew louder as the smell got worse. Mud oozed between my toes. And if it wasn't mud, I didn't want to know about it. I stepped on something that crackled under my toes, hard and thin like twigs...or bones.
"Almost past," Jeremy whispered. "When we reach the entrance to the nest, I'm going to stop and swing you by. All right?"
"Thanks."
A hiss in the darkness. I froze, my hands falling from Jeremy's hips as he kept moving. A loud chatter sounded right at my feet. I resisted the urge to kick and danced backward instead, wildly looking around, seeing only blackness.
"Jaime?"
Another hiss. I stumbled back. My foot slid in the muck and--
Jeremy's hands caught me around the waist and swooped me up.
"Grab my neck and hold on."
As I slid my hands around his neck, my fingertips brushed through his hair, then down along the back of his neck. Just bad aim, of course. Couldn't expect me to see in the dark.
He took two steps, then stopped and cursed under his breath. More hissing. The scrabbling of tiny claws on concrete. The enraged shriek of a rat defending its nest, and I knew our path was blocked.
Jeremy made the low growling noise that had scared off the cat. A few rats' shrieks turned to panic, but more just kept chattering. Jeremy jerked back as he kicked a rat. I resisted the urge to bury my face in his chest like some nineteenth-century heroine.
"Hold on," he murmured. "This is going to take a stronger warning."
I tightened my grip. He twisted, as if leaning away from me, and let out a snarl that resounded through the tunnel. The rats squealed, claws scraping the concrete as they ran.
Jeremy took a few steps, getting us past the rats' nest, then lowered his lips to my ear. "My apologies. That wasn't very civilized."
I wasn't complaining. It'd worked on me too...though not in the same way. I readjusted my grip, pressing closer. His lips brushed my ear, sending a delicious chill down my neck.
"Sorry," he murmured, mouth still at my ear, breath hot on my neck. Then he straightened. "We should keep going."
I agreed wholeheartedly. Unfortunately, he meant walking. And just when I'd started thinking sex in a dank, rat-infested tunnel wouldn't be so bad after all. It would certainly be a first and, with me, that wasn't easy.
I rested in his arms, enjoying the heat of his body, the smell of him blocking the stench of the tunnel. After a few minutes, though, that twenty-first-century independent woman started nagging at me and, with a silent sigh, I said, "We're far enough away. You can put me down."
"I could. But the tunnel is wide enough here for me to carry you and, from the smell, people use this end, so I suspect there's a discarded needle or two on the ground. Not something you should step on in bare feet."
Couldn't argue with that. Another minute and we could see dim light. We soon reached the source--moonlight streaming through a partly boarded-up exit.
Jeremy put me down and I pulled on my shoes. Then we squeezed out through the door and found ourselves at the bottom of stairs leading from a parking lot to the basement door of some building.
We finally escaped the putrid, rat-infested tunnel, only to step out into a cold drizzling rain. Never fails. I catch a break and I pay for it. The story of my life.
So we ran, shivering and wet, from under one overhang to the next. Jeremy gave me his coat, and I didn't argue. We finally reached the street and darted under a store awning.
"Not the safe fact-finding mission you had in mind, was it?" Jeremy said. "Are you all right?"
"Sure. It was fun."
The corners of his mouth twitched. "Fun?"
"Well, fun is probably pushing it but, hey, this is the first adventure I've survived without being kidnapped, attacked, knocked unconscious or possessed by evil spirits. A ripped blouse? Ruined skirt? Bad hair? I'd call this progress."
He laughed. Then his eyes met mine, face turning serious. He moved closer, his hand going under my chin, warm fingers against my skin, tilting my face up, leaning down to me.
He wiped his thumb over my cheekbone, frowned and peered at it.
"You cut your cheek on something." He reached for the spot again, then pulled back. "I probably shouldn't touch it. My hands are filthy."
I met his gaze. "I don't mind."
He hung there, over me, one hand at my back, clutching my blouse, eyes darkening, body taut, as if fighting the urge to take me up on my invitation. If I made a move, his resolve would break. I could see that in his eyes. Just reach up, put my arms around his neck, press my body against his and I'd see that fire again, feel that passion. No tortured cab ride back to his hotel. That would take too long. Make my move and I'd be carried back in the shadows of that alcove and--
I swallowed hard and stepped back. Probably the hardest thing I've ever done, but follow through on that impulse and there'd be regret come morning. Take it slow. Make sure it's where I want to go--where he wants to go.
As I fussed with my shoe strap, Jeremy peered out into the dark, wet street, squaring his shoulders against the chill. "We need to get you someplace warm and dry--"
A taxi turned the corner.
A quarter-smile. "Now, there's the kind of magic I like."
He stepped out and waved it over, then turned to me. "I'm going back to the shop, to see whether I can pick up Botnick's trail. With any luck, he'll head somewhere interesting after his encounter."
"Are you sure? It might be--"
"Dangerous?" The corners of his mouth twitched. "Don't worry. I'll be careful."
The cab stopped. He opened the rear door halfway, then paused, looking back at me.
"You're welcome to come with me. I didn't mean--" He gestured at the cab. "I'm not trying to get rid of you. I just thought you'd probably had enough..."
"If you could use me, I'd go. But tracking is your field. I'd only get in the way."
I slid past him into the car.
He leaned in and swept a strand of wet hair back from my face. "You're never in the way, Jaime."
I turned my face toward his, lifting my chin...
"Call me when you get to the house," he said. "So I know you arrived safely."
For a second, watching him close the door, I almost suspected he'd been teasing me--here and in the tunnel. But no. Jeremy was nothing if not responsible. At a time like this, flirting would be the last thing on his mind.
Damn.
He jogged around to give the driver directions and a few bills. As the cab pulled away from the curb, I remembered his coat and rolled down my window.
"Your--" I called, but he had his back to me, hurrying to the shelter of the awnings. A second later, he vanished into the shadows, looping back to Botnick's shop.
I rolled up the window.
"Forgot his jacket," I said to the driver, who was watching me through the rearview mirror.
The young woman gave a slight roll of her eyes, as if to say she'd never accept a man's jacket in the first place. Too bad. I'd never been one to refuse an opened door or a pulled-out chair. As long as the man understood I could open my own doors, could pull out my own chairs, then I wasn't adverse to a little chivalry. With Jeremy, it wasn't so much that as old-fashioned good manners.
He may not have grown up with women in his life, but he'd had Elena around for over fifteen years now, and knew better than to underestimate "the fairer sex." Had it been Elena back at that shop, she would have gone down the chute first and taken on those rats herself, protecting him, watching his back. And he'd have let her. With me, it was a question of limitations and experience. While I wanted, someday, to have the nerve and the know-how to do such things myself, in the meantime, I wasn't going to protest about being carried past a nest of rats. Or taking his coat when I was cold.
> I pulled the jacket around me, savoring the warmth for the rest of the cab ride.
PLAYED
WHEN I ARRIVED IN BRENTWOOD, a guard met me at the door. Like being sixteen again, arriving home after curfew. I even got the "what have you been up to?" arched brow from him as he surveyed my ruined outfit.
As I passed Grady's bedroom, I heard my name and stopped.
"You aren't listening to me, woman!" Grady hissed, loud enough for his voice to reverberate down the hall. "I was possessed."
"Yes, yes, I know, but they really want us to stick to these ridiculous celebrity seances, so, perhaps for a while, if you could choose to be possessed only by people fitting their criteria--"
"You think I chose to have this happen? This--this power--this evil thing, it stole my body. I was powerless, unable to see, hear, speak, trapped in some limbo." He took a deep, shuddering breath. "I need to speak to Jaime. While that thing had hold of me yesterday, I had some...sense of her. I think she might understand what happened."
The creak of a chair. "So that's what this is about? You don't need to pull this possession nonsense, Bradford. If you want to take the woman out for drinks and a quick shag in some tawdry hotel, be my guest. I've never stopped you before, have I?"
"I'm telling you I was possessed--"
"Oh, I know what you're possessed by. Get it out of your system so we can get back to business."
"This is business, woman. Something happened out there and I believe Jaime Vegas holds the key. I've told you she has the gift. Her performance with Tansy Lane--"
"--was a remarkable performance. Props to her for it, and for finding that memo, giving her the advantage of knowing in advance who she was about to contact that night."
"Becky never said Jaime found--"
"The poor girl is terrified of losing her job, so she doesn't dare do more than hint. If Todd Simon found out that she'd left that memo on Tansy Lane in the kitchen--"
"I don't believe it."
"No? Well, I've done my research, because that's what you pay me for, Bradford, and Todd Simon is a cutthroat--"
"I meant about Jaime. She didn't need to warn me about Amityville--Becky certainly wasn't going to. If Jaime Vegas is as conniving as Becky would have us believe, then why not let me fall on my face..."