“Which kind are yours?”
“I’m sort of Wiccan, but since I started working with Jude I’ve learned a whole lot about all kinds of other beliefs.” Chloe made an impish face. “You could say I’ve developed my own methods.”
“I admit I don’t know much about it,” Caro remarked as she ate. “My grandmother called herself a witch, but Damien says she was more of a mage.”
“Really?” Interest was written over Chloe’s face. “I think he meant that your grandmother may have had very strong powers?”
“Evidently. I’ll be honest, Chloe. I’m pretty much at sea with all of this.” In fact, she seemed to be sailing farther from the shores of reality with every passing hour. “I didn’t really pay attention to Grandma because I didn’t believe in much that I couldn’t see.”
“I imagine that’s been busy changing.”
“Obviously.”
Chloe forked another sliver of salmon onto her bagel. “Well, Wicca is what Jude insists on calling an emergent religion. By that he means we don’t have one single act together, and I guess he’s right about that. We disagree on a lot of things and agree on a lot of others, and we all call ourselves Wiccan.”
“So how do you decide?”
Chloe shrugged. “I take what suits me and make the rest myself, basically.”
A few minutes later, she paused as she ate and looked directly at Caro. “What do
“Right now I’m undergoing a radical transformation.” A truth that didn’t sound nearly as bad as it sometimes felt.
They worked all day, exploring the detailed backgrounds of all the murder victims. At this point, Caro was ready to bend some rules, and she accessed case-file interviews with everyone who knew the family. Chloe even taught her a few things, such as how to hack into social networks to see things that only the account holder was supposed to see.
She was so absorbed in finding information and making notes that she was startled when Jude and Damien emerged, signaling the end of daylight. There had been no cues, of course, with the office sealed up against light, but it was still hard to believe so many hours had passed.
Damien scanned her. “You look much more awake.”
“No kidding,” Chloe responded. “I was banging around in here for nearly an hour before she opened her eyes.”
Ignoring the others, Damien came to squat beside Caro where she sat at the spare computer, which Chloe had placed on a table for her. “How do you feel?” He continued to appraise her, his eyes filled with concern.
“This morning I felt hungover, but I’m fine now. For a while I dreamed a darkness was squeezing my chest and sucking all the air out of me. It was so hard to wake. I’d like to know what happened.”
“So would I.” He reached out to touch her hair and cheek with such gentleness that her heart squeezed.
She had not expected him to be gentle. Nor did she want her heart responding to him in any way. Despite her reluctance, however, she couldn’t bring herself to pull away from his touch. She needed it, needed it so she wouldn’t feel quite so alone while she faced this evil killer she couldn’t even see. Needed it because her heart ached for it. Needed it because she had suffered so many shocks in such a short time that a kind touch could feel like a lifeline.
“I’m not sure you should leave this office until we learn more.”
Nothing was better guaranteed to raise her determination. “I am
He smiled and stood. “There’s my Caro,” he remarked. “Nonetheless.” He looked at Jude.
“I agree, at least for now. We need to feed the ladies. Chloe, why don’t you join me? Let’s go out and get some real food. Terri will be joining us soon, and she doesn’t have to go to work for a few hours yet.”
Chloe jumped up. “Real food? As long as I don’t have to cook it. But I don’t want anything we can have delivered. I want something different. Caro?”
Caro shook her head. “Anything is fine. I’m not picky.”
Terri’s voice drew her attention to the doorway of Jude’s inner office. She was dressed for work already, to judge by her neat slacks suit, and was smiling. “I already put in my vote for seafood. Are you allergic, Caro?”
“Not at all.”
“Then the three of us will be back shortly with loads of shrimp, lobster and crab.”
Caro watched the women pull on their winter coats and leave with Jude before she said to Damien, “We were obviously excluded from that outing. Or I was.”
“I don’t mind,” Damien said. “Do you?”
Before she could answer, he reached for her hand and drew her to her feet until she stood only inches from him.
Once again he raised a hand to caress her hair and cheek lightly with his palm.
“When I resurrected tonight, the first thing on my mind was you. How do you do that to me, Caro?”
She wished she knew the answer, because he affected her the same way. Throughout the day her thoughts had turned to him, and when she had taken a nap under Chloe’s watchful eye so that she could stay awake longer tonight, he had been waiting for her behind her eyelids and in her dreams.
Hot, sizzling dreams, the kinds of things the mind could only spin in unguarded moments. One in particular made her almost want to blush, and she might have if not for the fact that no one but she knew what it was.
She had dreamed that she stood before him in a dimly lit room, while he used that voice that made others obey him but that only made her tingle.
But in the dream it had made her obey him as it could not in the waking world. He had simply smiled and said, “Strip for me.”
And she had. She could remember every aching moment of it as desire, anticipation and nervousness had filled her. What if he didn’t like the way she looked? What if he never touched her at all?
Never in real life had she done that for a man, and it almost shocked her that she could have such a wish, even in her dreams, to display herself that way.
In the dream, she had stood naked before him, following commands to turn, bend over, part her legs, until she had felt so incredibly exposed, knowing he was looking at her sex while she couldn’t see him at all.
At the order to spread herself more, she had obeyed, experiencing an even more agonizing need to be touched and reassured that he desired her.
In the dream she had felt so deliciously helpless and enthralled, so free and yet so oddly inhibited.
The only thing she wanted was for him to do whatever he wished with her.
Finally, finally, she had felt the soft touch of his fingers on her exposed petals, stroking, separating, exploring...
And just as she thought she would explode, the dream had vanished.
Standing before him now, she was very glad he couldn’t read her mind.
But he could read her scents, and as she peeked up at him, she saw knowledge in his gaze. At least it wasn’t arrogant knowledge, or even self-satisfied knowledge. He seemed perplexed, actually.
“Somehow,” he murmured, “we are going to have to find time to settle this matter between us. Safely. For both of us.”
At least he was frank. She appreciated that. Most of her experience with dating had been of the kind that involved dancing around, a lot of pretense and even some outright lies. In fact, she had reached a point where she believed the words
At least he was calling this what it was: raw desire. She was also somewhat reassured by his description of claiming. It meant he potentially had as much to lose as she did.
She felt breathless, though, as he lowered his head and nestled his mouth against hers. Cool lips, soft lips. Not cold. Nothing about him was as cold as she would have expected.
Then he drew back, trailing his hand over her throat and breast before quite suddenly reappearing across the room. “But not now.”
