He swallowed hard. The thought of her going out alone scared the shit out of him. “I wish you wouldn’t.”
“I know.” She set her elbows on the counter and rested her chin on her hands. “If you think it’s really unsafe, I won’t leave. I’m not an idiot. But if you’re just worried, please let me go. I would really like to spend a couple of hours watching other people live average lives. I need the fantasy, if only for a little while.”
Alec looked out the window. It was a crystal-clear day. No rain, no mist. If she went straight to the movies and came right back, she should be fine. “Don’t use the john.”
“Okay. Now let’s talk about why I can’t go to the bathroom. That Nix is stalking me. I can’t figure out what his deal is. I swear I didn’t do anything to him. He flicked his snake’s tongue at me and I freaked. I said something offhand by complete mistake and it wounded him. He had to see that I was clueless and no threat to him. Why is he acting like I ran over his dog?”
“I don’t know.” Alec tapped the tines of his fork against his plate. “This is completely outside the norm. I’m going to talk to Raguel about it and see what he says. We can’t sit here waiting for the Nix to strike again. We have to find and vanquish him.”
“Sounds good to me.” Eve pushed back from the island. She pulled the towel off her head and draped it over the back of her stool. “I’m going to run next door and see if Mrs. Basso is up for a movie. She wanted to see the new Hugh Jackman flick, and there’s a matinee in an hour.”
Alec nodded and continued to eat his now tasteless food, his thoughts occupied by the Nix. He listened to the multiple locks disengage, then the door opening. Perhaps talking to Raguel alone was the best way to go. Separating himself from Eve might help to alter the image of them as an indivisible team. Their paths would eventually diverge; they had to for her sake. Then he would need to continue on his present course alone. That would be difficult if it was perceived that he was useful only in regards to his association with her.
Of course, part of him wondered how useful he could possibly be without her.
As Eve exited to the hallway, she left her front door open. Her gaze returned to Alec against her will, her stride faltering just past the threshold. The sight of him in her kitchen—completely at ease and half dressed in only T-shirt and boxers—was as bizarre as being attacked by the tengu. The incongruity of his presence in her life after a ten-year absence brought home a possibility she hadn’t considered before—perhaps his return and the marking weren’t the detours in her life. Perhaps the last ten years were.
It was a crazy thought, but how else could she explain why she wasn’t a shell-shocked wreck at this point? Or why this new skin she wore felt so much more comfortable than the one she’d been born with?
And her sexual advances toward Alec . . . she could say that was an expected aftereffect of a near-death experience or blame her super libido. But she’d be lying to herself, and as screwed up as the rest of her life was, she needed her head on straight more than ever.
Eve stopped before Mrs. Basso’s door and knocked. As she waited, she tightened the belt on her robe. She looked up and down the hallway, admiring the sunshine coming in through the window on the other side of her door. She spread her arms out and stretched, briefly wondering if she should have dressed before stepping out of her house. Luckily it was a workday and most of the residents weren’t home.
She rang the doorbell, knowing that a knock was sometimes difficult to hear from the rear bedrooms. Her mark began to tingle, then burn, as it did when she took the Lord’s name in vain. Frowning, she rubbed at it. Why the hell would the damn thing start bothering her now?
“Mrs. Basso?” she called out, just in case her neighbor wasn’t answering in avoidance of solicitors. Sales-people weren’t supposed to come into the building. Anyone caught putting up solicitations was quickly booted out, but often the easiest way to get rid of them was simply to ignore them.
Her mark throbbed something fierce. Aggravated energy pumped hard and fast through her veins, spreading outward from her arm until it inundated her body with restless anticipation. Eve’s nostrils flared, scents intensifying with startling immediacy. Her eyesight sharpened, magnifying minute details such as the scrapes left by keys around the dead-bolt lock.
Before she fully comprehended what she was doing, Eve crashed into Mrs. Basso’s door shoulder first. The door locks shattered through the jamb, spraying splinters through the air and filling the hallway with an echoing boom.
“Mrs. Basso!” Eve searched the living room with a sweeping glance.
The mark continued to pulse, pushing a steady stream of adrenaline through her body. Her super senses were functioning in high gear. The doors and windows were closed, but she heard the crashing of waves against the shore and the screams of seagulls as if they were directly in front of her.
“Eve.”
Alec. She pivoted. Met his gaze. He stood on the threshold, barefoot but sporting hastily donned jeans.
“The mark,” she explained. “It’s freaking me out.”
He entered. “Mrs. Basso?” he called out, his voice strong and steady.
“Maybe she’s at the restaurant?”
The sheer lack of emotion on his face said more than words could.
Mrs. Basso’s floor plan was the mirror image of Eve’s, but the decor made the homes entirely dissimilar. While Eve’s pad had a modern, minimalist style, the Basso residence was traditional Italian elegance. Faux painted walls and heavy leather furniture invited guests to linger in warmth and comfort. Yet Eve was chilled by the silence, broken only by the ticking of the beautiful clock on the living room wall.
She stared at its oversized numbers and wrought-iron scrollwork, marveling at the steadiness of her breathing and the rhythmic beating of her heat. Mentally she was panicking, but physically she could be visiting for espresso and tiramisu for all the stress her body felt. There was a brutal primitiveness to the combination of physical calm, coursing adrenaline, and super sensitivity. It was entirely inelegant . . . and seductive.
“Eve.”
Eve froze at the sound of her name, spoken softer than a whisper but heard louder than a gunshot.
“Mrs. Basso?” She moved down the hall, first tentatively, then faster.
“Eve.”
“Mrs. Basso!”
Bursting into the master bedroom at a run, Eve gasped in relief to find Mrs. Basso standing by the bed. Dressed in white slacks and a pale pink shirt, she looked lovely and ready for the day. Turning with a smile, Mrs. Basso eyed her from head to toe. “Cute pajamas.”
Eve gave a breathy laugh, feeling silly for her overreaction. Her mark enhancements were obviously still whacky. “You scared me when you didn’t answer.”
“It’s been an . . . odd morning.”
Wincing, Eve recalled her abrupt entry. “About your door . . .”
“Is that what the ruckus was?” Mrs. Basso smiled. “You have so much energy.”
Eve frowned. “I wanted to see if you’d like to catch that movie you mentioned.”
“I would love to, but I’m afraid I can’t.”
Alec’s hand touched Eve’s back. She looked at him. His lips were thin and tight.
Mrs. Basso smiled at Alec. “Take good care of her, Cain.”
“I will.”
“I can take a rain check,” Eve offered. “I won’t go without you.”
“You might think about keeping him, Evie,” Mrs. Basso said, gesturing to Alec with a gentle jerk of her chin. “Especially if he masters that recipe I gave him.”
Mrs. Basso turned back to the bed, affording Eve a view of the nightstand. A clear glass bowl waited there. It was half filled with water and showcased a lovely white water lily.
Eve’s wide eyes shot back to her neighbor, who was leaning over the mattress. She was tucking in the frail figure lying peacefully amid the pillows—a figure easily seen through the gradually increasing translucence of Mrs. Basso.
Two of them. One ghostly, one . . . dead.
A sob escaped Eve, shattering the quiet. She covered her mouth.
The silver hair that fanned out on the pillow was wet, as was Mrs. Basso’s skin, yet she appeared to be sleeping.
She looked so peaceful, so serene.
So lifeless.
CHAPTER 15
Eve accepted the sweater Alec handed to her and shrugged into it. She was frozen to the bone, her blood icy with grief, fury, and fear. They stood just outside her front door, staying out of the way of the paramedics and police detectives who swarmed around the Basso apartment.
“Now, let’s run through this again,” the detective said in a tone of voice that told her he didn’t believe a word she said. Detective Jones, he’d said his name was. He was a nondescript man in a cheap suit dyed a shade of shit brown Eve was certain had been discontinued in the seventies. His partner was Detective Ingram. He had better taste in clothes, but was taller, fatter, and boasted a handlebar mustache.
For some reason, the two men offended Eve. They were so drab and worn, their voices monotonous and their eyes flat. Beaten down by the dregs of society and completely unaware of what they were really dealing with every day.
“What condition was the Basso door in when you found it?” Jones asked.
“It was locked,” she said, wondering why she had to go over this so many times. She’d already told the story to two other detectives.
“Who broke in?”
“I did.”
“Through two dead bolts?” Ingram was clearly disbelieving.
“Yes.”
“Can you demonstrate how,” Jones asked, “using your door?”
Eve exhaled harshly and turned around. She closed her door, then grabbed the knob with one hand and bumped the portal with her shoulder. “I used a little more force, of course.”
“Of course.” He wrote something in his notepad.
“You don’t have to believe me,” she said. “Just look at the security tapes.”
“We will.” His smile was tight. “Did you move the body?”
“I didn’t move anything.”
“The medical examiner says the body is wet,” Ingram informed, “but the bed isn’t. Someone moved the deceased to the bed. Then they tucked her in.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Did Mrs. Basso have any family nearby? Or close friends?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“Any children?”
She shook her head.
“The act of moving her and arranging her so nicely suggests that the person felt close to her. Do you know anyone who might fit that bill?”
Eve’s lower lip quivered and tears welled. “No.”
Thoughts of what the last minutes of Mrs. Basso’s life must have been like made her sick. Eve swiped at the tears that coursed down her cheeks.
Alec altered his stance, moving from beside her to slightly in front of her. It was a protective pose and she was grateful for it. His hand reached back for her and she clasped it. “Ms. Hollis has been through enough today,” he said. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave her alone for now.”
Both detectives narrowed their eyes, then nodded in near unison. Ingram reached into his pocket and withdrew a business card, which he held out to Eve. “If you think of anything that might help, please give us a call in addition to the other detectives you spoke with earlier.”
Eve frowned as she read the information imprinted on the card. “Anaheim Police Department? A bit out of your jurisdiction, aren’t you?”
Then something more disturbing caught her eye. “Homicide?”
Alec’s fingers tightened on hers. “You think this is a murder?”
“That’s all we need for now,” Jones said. “Thank you for your cooperation.”
“Why do you think this is a murder, Detective?” Alec repeated, this time with an oddly resonant tone to his voice.
Persuasive. Eve watched the two detectives in silent fascination, wondering if the Jedi mind trick would work on them.
Ingram and Jones stood silently for a long moment, then Jones said, “Water lilies.”
Eve’s mark tingled and she released Alec’s hand to rub at it. He glanced at her, then asked, “What’s significant about water lilies?”
“It’s an unusual flower to keep inside the house,” the detective said.
“Explain.”
“The lily is a calling card.”
“How many have you found?” Alec prodded.
“A dozen in the last six months.”
Eve leaned heavily into the door. “All in Anaheim?”
“Until today.”
The Nix was a serial killer. In Anaheim. Where her parents lived.
“Detectives!” A young woman in a blue windbreaker jacket leaned out of the Basso apartment. “The M.E. is asking for you.”
“Excuse us,” Ingram said.
“God be with you,” Alec murmured.
Jones smiled grimly. “Thanks.”
Eve was inside her apartment in a flash, racing toward the console where she kept her purse and keys. She heard the door shut.
“What are you doing?” Alec asked.
“My parents live in Anaheim.”
“So?” He stood with arms akimbo before the door, blocking the exit. “You go there now, you might lead him right to your family.”
“It’s not hard to find them, Alec. We have the same last name. Shit, he could have followed my mom home when she left here.”
“Let the mark system do what it’s supposed to.”
“Which is what exactly? Fuck up everyone’s lives?”
Alec came to her and pulled her close. Unfamiliar with relying on a man for emotional support, she resisted at first; then she sank into his strength, too weary to resist. He was so warm and hard. There was no external softness to him, no hint of weakness. Solid as a rock. But he wasn’t truly. Nothing was solid when it was impermanent.