Without warning, she was suddenly looking into the face of Rachel's attacker as the beast closed in.
And it was a beast. The same kind of fiery-eyed, fanged monster that Savannah had been trying to forget since she touched the old sword. Except this monster wasn't dressed in a hooded cloak like the group that killed the little boys. This beast wore an expensive-looking dark suit and crisp white shirt. A gentleman's refined clothes and richly styled, brown hair, but the face of a nightmarish monster.
The creature lunged for Rachel, its razor-toothed jaws open as it went for the girl's throat.
Oh, my God.
Impossible. She couldn't be seeing this, not again. It could not be real.
Was she losing her mind?
Savannah couldn't breathe. Her lungs constricted, burned in her chest. Her heart slammed hard, drumming in her ears. She couldn't find her voice, even though her entire body seemed to be screaming.
She gaped down at the bracelet now resting in her upturned palm. Every instinct told her to throw it away, as fast and as far as she could. But it was all that remained of her friend.
And the fragile ring of metal contained what might be the sole evidence of Rachel's killer.
She had to tell someone what she saw.
But who?
Her psychometry ability was outlandish enough, but to expect anyone to believe her when she tried to explain the monsters she's seen--not once, but twice--through her gift?
They would think she was crazy.
Hell, maybe she was.
Savannah's sister, Amelie, had long said their mama was a little touched in the head. Maybe Savannah was too. Because right now, that was the only thing that made sense to her. It was the only way she could explain what she had witnessed over the past couple days.
She didn't know what to do, or who to turn to.
She needed time to think.
Needed to get a grip on herself, before she lost it completely.
Savannah dropped Rachel's bracelet in her book bag and dashed out of the building.
Gideon rapped a second time on Savannah's apartment door, not at all convinced it was a good idea for him to be there.
Then again, it also hadn't exactly been stellar logic to detour from his first hour of patrol tonight and swing past the Boston Public Library in the hopes of seeing her. Nevertheless, he'd done that too, and had been troubled to learn that Savannah was absent from her shift. Bad judgment or not, he couldn't keep his boots from carrying him across town to her modest apartment.
As his knuckles dropped against the door for a third time now, he finally heard movement from inside. He'd known she was home; his talent had betrayed her to him, even though she seemed determined to ignore whoever was at the door. The peephole shadowed as she moved in front of it now to look out. Then, a soft inhalation from the other side of the door. One lock tumbled free. Then another.
Savannah opened the door, her face slack with mute surprise. Gideon drank in the sight of her in an instant, from her pretty, dark eyes and sensual mouth, to her lovely curves and lean, long limbs. Tonight she was dressed for comfort in flared jeans that hugged her hips and thighs, and white rock band tank top under an unbuttoned, faded denim work shirt.
God's balls, she was braless beneath the bright red Rolling Stones logo. The unexpected sight of her perky little br**sts almost made him forget why he was there.
"Gideon." Not exactly a welcoming greeting, the way her fine black brows were knit on her forehead as she looked at him. She sent a quick glance past him to the second floor landing behind him, seeming distracted and edgy. When her attention came back to him, her frown deepened. "What are you doing here? How do you know where I live?"
He knew that bit of recon would pose a problem once he arrived, but it was a risk he'd been willing to take. "I swung past the library tonight, thought I might see you again. Your supervisor told me you had called in sick today. She seemed very concerned about you. I hope you don't mind that I came around to check in on you."
"Mrs. Kennefick gave you my address?"
She hadn't, but Gideon neither confirmed nor denied it. "Are you unwell?"
Savannah's creased brow relaxed somewhat. "I'm okay," she said, but he could see that she was flustered, nervous. There was a pale cast to her cheeks, and her face was tense, lines bracketing her mouth. "You shouldn't have come. I'm fine, but this isn't really a good time for me right now, Gideon."
Something was very wrong here. He could feel her anxiety pulsing off her in palpable waves. Savannah's fear hung heavily in the two feet of space between them. "Something happened to you."
"Not to me." She gave a weak shake of her head, crossing her arms over herself like a shield. Her voice was quiet, small. "Something happened to my friend, Rachel, the girl I was rooming with here. She was killed a couple nights ago. She and one of the professors at BU were attacked. Professor Keaton survived, but Rachel..."
"I'm sorry about your friend," Gideon said. "I didn't realize."
It was the truth, or close enough. He hadn't known Savannah had been close to either of the victims. He could see that she was hurting, but there was something more going on too, and the warrior in him was suspicious of what else he didn't yet know about the situation.
"I did hear something on the news recently about a robbery at the Art History building on campus," he said casually. "Your friend and the professor were attacked during a break-in and theft of some type of relic, wasn't it?"
Savannah stared at him for a long moment, as if she couldn't decide whether to answer. "I'm not sure what happened that night," she finally murmured. She uncrossed her arms and moved one hand to the edge of the door. She took a step backward. The hand braced on the door now began to close it by fractions. "Thanks for checking in on me, Gideon. I'm not much in the frame of mind for talking right now, so--"