burning flesh and flame drifts upward and Hector snarls.
I think he'll run. Instead he lunges. I turn away, hide my head, wait for the slash of his teeth. My dress tears; cool air caresses my back.
"Wolves mate for life, querida."
Worried, disturbed, I straighten, glance over my shoulder just as he strikes - claw, not tooth. But why?
I scream as white-hot agony erupts from shoulder to hip. He leaps upward, muscles flexing, body stretching - both horrible and beautiful at the same time. He crashes through the glass and is gone.
Edward bursts into the room, hurries to the window, curses. As I lose consciousness, he bends over me and whispers, "Everything will be all right."
The phone begins to ring.
I gasped and came awake with the bright light of day shining across my face. How long had I slept? Not long enough.
What a strange dream. Hector the wolf had never spo-ken, though the words of my dream were real enough. He'd told me things in phone calls that made me weep. It had been my fault my family had died, because I'd let Hector into my life and he hadn't wanted to let me out of his.
He was possessive, obsessive. Freaking crazy. He wanted me for himself, and the only way to keep me was to make certain I had no one to turn to but him.
He hadn't counted on Edward.
I'd traced the calls after I got out - by then, I had the technology - but they'd been placed from pay phones in different parts of the country. It did me no good to report them to the police. Dead men didn't dial long-distance.
I shook my head. My cell phone was ringing now. The sound wasn't an echo of the dream.
With a groan, I hoisted myself out of bed and crossed to the kitchen table. "Hello?"
I flinched, half-expecting Hector's deep, musical voice to whisper my name.
"Where the hell are you?" Jessie snapped.
Relief made me smile. "Good morning to you, too."
"It's afternoon."
"Already?"
"I have the report from Quantico."
"And?"
"I think your friend Hector is on it."
Chapter 19
I went into the bathroom, splashed my face with water, and brushed my teeth. My mouth tasted like something had died in there. My back was on fire.
I turned, twisting awkwardly, trying to see in the mirror above the sink. The long, furrowed mark pulsed bright red, as if infected.
The scar had never bothered me once it healed. Sometimes I even forgot for an hour or two at a time.
What was the matter now?
I straightened, rubbed my hand over my face, and looked again. The scar was just a scar. Puckered.
White. Healed.
"Shit."
I was losing my mind.
I threw on some clothes, retrieved my weapons, and left the apartment.
The remnants of the nightmare faded as I drove into Crow Valley. It wasn't as if I'd never had one before. I'd just never had one in the daytime.
Which disturbed me. I'd been able to keep the nightmares at bay by sleeping when the sun shone. If that re-lief was gone to me, would I ever be able to sleep again? I didn't want to think about it.
So I didn't. I'd become very good at pushing aside anything I didn't want to dwell on. If I hadn't been, I doubt I'd be functional at all.
Crow Valley was as busy in the light of an October afternoon as it was empty of an October midnight.
Folk of every age, shape, and color walked up and down the picturesque streets. Some even waved as if they knew me. They probably did. In small towns gossip traveled at the speed of sound. One of the reasons I didn't stay long in any one place.
I drove to Jessie's apartment. It was nearly five o'clock. I'd slept, and dreamed, the day away. But since she didn't go on duty until the sun went down, we still had time to do our job.
Jessie opened the door before I even knocked, and shoved the fax into my hand. "About time."
"What's up your ass?"
She turned on me, and I blocked her punch with my forearm. She might have slammed me against the wall once, but that didn't mean I'd let her do it again.
"I'm in no mood to play nice," I warned.
"Bitch, bitch, bitch." She stalked away, plopping onto the couch with a scowl.
"What's the matter with you?" I tried a more pleasant version of the same question.