A muscle tightened on Gaby’s face. “Do tell.”
“You were butting heads with one of our more colorful denizens. A drug dealer, I believe.”
Belying her tension, Gaby sounded bored when she asked, “You know him?”
“I’ve done most of the tattoos for the dealers in the city. They want the best and, foregoing modesty, I can say with confidence that I’m by far the best. My designs come alive.”
“Bully for you.”
“And they can afford to pay my prices, so . . . ” Fabian shrugged. “I’m acquainted with many of the more reprehensible sorts.”
“Of course you are.”
Fabian shot Gaby a look, judged her comment to be only more cynicism, and dismissed it. “This morning, before you left the area, you rounded up some of the area children to take with you.”
She said nothing, just stared at him.
He cleared his throat and nodded at the design. “What do you think?”
She didn’t release him from her gaze. “That it?”
Fabian flashed an indulgent smile. “I need to fill it in yet, but that’s the outline of the barbed wire design.”
Hoping to break the tension and help Gaby settle down again, Luther leaned over to look.
But Gaby was already saying, “It’s fine. Finish it.”
Raising a brow, Fabian used yet another sterile towel to wipe away a few spots of blood. “You’re a curious woman, Gaby.” He began swabbing the area again with soap and fresh water. “Cody, is it?”
Luther took a protective step forward, too shocked to censor his reaction. How the hell could Fabian know Gaby’s last name when she’d
Gaby shifted—a subtle indication for Luther to cool his jets.
Her faint amusement reassured Luther; Gaby would know if imminent danger existed.
“That’s right, Fabian.” Her slow nod gave Fabian points for ingenuity. “Gabrielle Cody, if you want the whole shebang.”
“It’s a lovely name.” He replaced the needle with a new, sturdier one and went back to work. Occasionally he glanced up at Gaby to gauge her discomfort at the puncturing needle, but she showed none.
If Gaby felt anything at all, she hid it well.
When Fabian had finished, he smiled with pride. “Well, what do you think?”
Gaby approved the overall effect with a dismissive shrug. “Looks fine. It does what I wanted it to do.”
Stung, Fabian said, “It entirely conceals any scar and even though you limited me in color, there’s a certain dimension to it that’s quite unique and appealing.”
Gaby said only, “Yeah, you’ll get paid.”
Frustrated with her lack of appreciation, Fabian scowled. “Let me just bandage it up and we’re done.” As he saw to that, he detailed more precautions. “For the next twenty-four hours, keep it bandaged. After that, you can wash it with antibacterial soap, but don’t soak it. Stay out of hot tubs or long showers. Don’t pick at it, either.”
“Got it.” Gaby started to rise.
Fabian caught her wrist. Even Gaby’s glare didn’t make him release her.
“I know why you really came here, Gaby.”
Luther kept his stance loose, but ready. “Think so, huh?”
Fabian spared him an annoyed frown. “I see the news. I know all about the body parts found.” Lip curling, he said, “The headlines have been ludicrous, painting the person responsible as some kind of perverted predator.”
“You don’t think that fits?”
This time Fabian didn’t even look at Luther. He beseeched Gaby instead. “You’re wondering if I had something to do with it.”
Gaby curled her hand into a fist, tightened it so that her muscles flexed and rippled under Fabian’s hold. Finally he released her.
She lounged back, at her leisure. “Actually, Fabian, I’m not wondering about that at all.”
“I . . . ” He closed his mouth, at a loss, but not for long. “Then you’ve already drawn your conclusions.”
Hearing a small sound, Luther eased away from Gaby on a pretext of looking at more designs. Concentrating, he listened for any unfamiliar noise—a breath, the scuffle of a shoe.
He heard nothing. But . . . Fuck. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like it at all.
His visceral reaction was to shut it down, right now. He drew a breath and held off.
“I know what I know,” Gaby told Fabian. “No doubts at all.”
“I see.” Fabian regrouped, and changed tactics. “You know, Gaby, it might interest you to find out that I have some of the same . . . special talents that you have.”
That announcement hit Luther like a shock wave. He ended his perusal of the shop and returned to Gaby’s side.
While he tingled with a foreboding of doom, Gaby didn’t look in the least perturbed. A half-smile cast her features in sinister shadows. “What kind of special talents do you think you have, Fabian?”
He grinned in absurd camaraderie, leaning forward to create a more intimate nature to their discussion. “I knew you were familiar to me. You felt it, too. Admit it?”
She shrugged. “I sensed a deeper knowledge of you.”
“I knew it! In the very same way, I recognized you and your symptoms. The extraordinary things you do are not so far-fetched as you might think.”
Luther couldn’t stand it. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Yeah.” Gaby slouched lower in her seat. “This is getting interesting. Enlighten me, Fabian.”
He couldn’t hide the hatred he felt for Luther. “Perhaps you’d be more comfortable discussing this without his intrusion.”
“Not on your life,” Luther told him.
“He stays,” Gaby added.
“Fine.” Fabian stood. He moved to a cabinet, touched a flower pot holding an overflowing, glossy philodendron. “The talents you have are symptomatic of a special breed of person. A higher power, if you will.”
“Let me get this straight.” Gaby smirked. “You think you’re a god?”
Fabian snapped a leaf off the plant. Sizzling with fury, he turned to face her. “You have a knack for running with amazing speed while not tiring. You see extremely well in the dark. You have remarkable reflexes, better hearing, smell, and taste than the pathetic majority that chokes our streets. You, Gaby Cody, are superior. And so am I.”
Gaby sat up, but said nothing.
Fabian took his chair again. With hesitant daring, he traced his fingertips along the fresh bandage wrapped around Gaby’s arm. “It was confirmed for me when I saw your increased recuperative ability.” His voice went soft with awe. “It’s almost as if you’ve bathed in blood and taken the healing properties of it.”
Luther wanted to rip the nutcase out of his chair and well away from Gaby. But this could be the confession they needed. “Have you bathed in blood, Fabian?”
With Gaby’s attention now focused solely on him, Fabian ignored Luther. “You are not meant for the peons of this world, Gaby. Please believe me.”
“What do you suggest?”
Luther knew Gaby baited Fabian, but he was so wrapped up in his recruit of her, he didn’t appear to see through her tactic.
“I know that you hurt, Gaby,” Fabian said. “I share that pain with you. But you see, I can explain it, teach you how to marshal it, control it.” He held out a hand to her. “The truth is, my dear, you and I are more alike than you know.”
“That doesn’t flatter me, Fabian.”
Luther shifted his gaze from Gaby to Fabian and back again. Gaby sounded fine, but he sensed her gathering pain and rage. Before much longer, she would break—one way or the other.
“Well, it should.” He drew a breath, let it out, and stated, “You’re a psychic vampire. Do you understand what that means?”
