Chapter 15 #3
“I smelled smoke. The more I think about it, I think the upir torched your building. Are you really sure there’s no reason for them to be after you? Because it sure seems like they’ve got a grudge.”
Torched my building? “Look, I’ve never seen anything like this before. As far as I knew, werewolves and… and vampires were only in movies. Not even very good movies. I don’t know what any of you want from me. I just want to be left alone.”
“To go back to starving to death? Look, you want to be a social worker? Great. We’ll pay your way through school.
We’ll get you somewhere to stay, a nicer place than that little apartment.
” The words sped up, tumbling over each other.
“We’ll protect you against anyone, including your ex-husband. All you have to do is be our shaman.”
She stared at his wide back under navy cotton. He was so… big, but it wasn’t just his height or the muscle. It was the way he carried himself, with utter self-assurance. “What’s the catch?”
His hair had red highlights in its darkness, and skin moved smoothly over the muscle of his forearms as he stuck his thumbs in his pockets.
“You just have to put up with us being a little… different. That’s all.
Look, Sophie, it’s not just because you smell good.
People like us, if we don’t have a shaman, we can go a little… crazy.”
Crazy enough to start kidnapping people off the streets? But she buttoned her lip over that one. It was what Lucy might have called Not Helpful.
Oh, but it hurt to think of Lucy.
“That’s why others of our kind, other Tribe, won’t even talk to us if we don’t have a shaman.
We’re fugitives. Shamans help us stay controlled.
Our last one… she died in a house fire, a long time ago.
It was…” Now he sounded not quite so assured—in fact, like he had something in his throat.
“We need some help, Sophie. We need your help.”
She licked her lips, wished for a toothbrush and a decent cup of coffee. And maybe world peace, while she was at it. “What if I say no?”
“That’s not really an option.” He said it so quietly she knew he meant every word. “We can do it the easy way, or the hard way. I’ve got to make sure my Family survives.”
A sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Survives?”
“Without a shaman, we’re vulnerable. You think I like doing this?”
“You certainly don’t seem too broken up about it.”
He turned on his heel, his chin dropped, and he regarded her with glowing-dark eyes.
Sophie hugged her knees and wished she hadn’t said it.
He looked like Marc sometimes did when he was getting ready to yell, and she decided right now would be a really good time for her to start using some of that psych she was always studying.
Only, would it work on a werewolf?
Zach didn’t yell, though. He continued, slow and even and very flat, as if choosing each word very carefully.
“I would have liked it better if we could have trailed you, and if I could have met you, let you think it was coincidence. Asked you out on a date or two. Gradually eased you into it. We’re not bad, Sophie.
We’re just different. And we need you, you can’t imagine how much.
I’m asking you to help us out, even though we haven’t been exactly saints or anything. ”
“Why me?” I’m just ordinary. The rattle of copper-bottomed pans in her memory intensified.
“You’re the first shaman we’ve found, the first person with any potential we’ve ever found.
We can’t wait around for another one—more of us will die.
Probably Brenn, he’s fragile now. Or Julia, because she’s been allowed to grow like a weed and she’s too goddamn stubborn for her own good.
Eric might hold out, but his animal… he might go over the edge any day.
I might. And if that happens the other Tribe’ll hunt us down and carve us like meat.
” He shrugged. “Against that—against more of them dying—I really have no trouble forcing you to stay put and getting to know us.”
Well, nice to know he’s feeling no qualms. “So what if I believe you?” If that was the stick, she wondered what the carrot could be. Or vice versa. “What if I agree? What happens next?”
The tension running through him didn’t wane.
He just stood there and looked at her, thumbs in pockets, shoulders drawn up, the weak sunlight bringing out that hint of red in his hair.
“You get cleaned up. We get you some fresh clothes and something to eat. And we try to figure out what the upir want with you.”
Sounds like I don’t have much of a choice. Story of my life. “And you really don’t have any trouble forcing me to do things?”
“Look, all I want is for my Family to survive. You’re necessary for that. And I like you, Sophie. I like you a lot.” His tone dropped from friendly to something else, and Sophie swallowed dryly.
“Because I smell good.”
“You don’t just smell good.” One corner of his mouth lifted, again. It looked like a habitual expression. “You smell really good.”
I wish he’d stop looking at me like that. “Great.” She pushed the covers down, slid over to the opposite side of the bed. If only he’d stop looking at her that way, as if she had something weird on her face. “I’m going to get cleaned up.”
“There’s a toothbrush in there, I brought it for you.” Still, he didn’t let up. “Are you going to stay with us, Sophie? Keep us human?”
I wasn’t too great at keeping Marc human. But you guys are something else, aren’t you? If it was true, and they needed her… but did that excuse kidnapping someone?
Or saving her life?
She found she could stand, so long as she didn’t try anything fancy. Arranged her skirt, tried to smooth her blouse. Her suit jacket would probably never be the same. “I want to go home.” And she wanted to bandage her hand, too. “So I can pack, at least. There’re things I have to take with me.”
“All right. So long as it’s during daylight, and we’re careful.” Did he sound relieved, of all things? “Thank you, Sophie.”
She made it to the bathroom door, looked back over her shoulder, pushing irritably at her hair. At this distance he was an indistinct blur, because her glasses were still on the nightstand. “Don’t thank me, Zach. I’ve been doing what people force me into all my life. This isn’t any different.”
He had no snappy comeback for that, and there was a definite feeling of satisfaction in shutting the bathroom door.
Still, it was nice to have a fresh toothbrush, and she wondered about that while she tore it open.
There was also a small travel tube of mint toothpaste. It wasn’t like a kidnapper, was it?
And he’d protected her from those… those things. She still wasn’t sure if he’d brought them to her apartment in the first place, though. The first one had killed his brother. And then there was Lucy… and the detective.
God, how could everything go so wrong?
I just wanted to have a good time. I should have known. It should be me in the morgue now. They were after me, and they killed Lucy instead.
It’s my fault.
An even more horrible thought occurred and she halted, travel-tube of Crest in one hand, staring at the mirror.
I’m not going to be able to go to Lucy’s funeral. I don’t even know when it is.
The only person who had cared enough to help her was really, truly, irrevocably dead. All that brightness, all that life, poured out in a filthy alley. The monster had lured her out there and—
Sophie made a small hurt sound, clutching the toothbrush. The faces in the mist all around her sharpened.
It was no use. She could see them even with her eyes closed. They were smoke-pale, nowhere near clear as they’d been last night, but still definitely visible.
It wasn’t a dream. These things were real. They had killed Lucy, and they were happening to her.
“Sophie?” Zach was at the door. He sounded concerned.
She twisted the water on savagely. I’m fine. Leave me alone.
While the tap ran she cried, as quietly as she could.
By the time she prodded the shower into gurgling life, wondering why she bothered because she would have to put dirty clothes back on, the sobs had quieted a bit.
Just a little, and it was still hard to force herself to breathe, to stop being a sissy.
It was time to toughen up, like she had a year ago. Time to be a big girl and get some business done.