Chapter Fourteen
Gabrielle's call to Lucan, and his strange behavior on the other end of the line, had troubled her all day. It still bothered her, as she and Megan came out of yoga class that evening.
"He just sounded so weird on the phone. I can't decide if he was in extreme physical pain, or if he was trying to find a way to tell me that he didn't want to see me anymore."
Megan sighed, waving her hand in dismissal. "You're probably reading too much into it. If you really want to know, why don't you go down to the station and pop in on him?"
"I don't think so. I mean, what would I say?"
"You say, 'Hi, baby. You sounded so down this afternoon, I thought you could use a little pick-me-up, so here I am.' Maybe bring him coffee and a doughnut for good measure."
"I don't know..."
"Gabby, you've said yourself the guy has been nothing but sweet and caring when he's with you. From what you told me about your conversation with him today, he sounds very concerned about you. So much so, that he would send one of his buddies over to look in on you while he's on duty and can't be there himself."
"He did stress how dangerous it was topside - and what do you suppose topside means? That doesn't sound like cop talk, does it? What is it, some kind of military terminology?" She shook her head. "I don't know. There's a lot about Lucan Thorne that I just don't know."
"So ask him. Come on, Gabrielle. At least give the guy the benefit of the doubt."
Gabrielle considered her black yoga pants and zippered hoodie, then felt to see how wilted her ponytail had become during the forty-five minute session of stretches. "I should go home first, at least take a quick shower, change my clothes..."
"Wow! I mean, really, wow." Megan's eyes went wide and bright with amusement. "You're afraid to go down there, aren't you? Oh, you want to, but you probably have a million excuses ready for why you can't. Admit it, you really like this guy."
It wasn't as if she could deny it, even if her sudden smile didn't give her away. Gabrielle met her friend's knowing look and shrugged her shoulders. "Yeah, I do. I like him. A lot."
"Then what are you waiting for? The station is three blocks away, and you look gorgeous as always. Besides, it's not like he hasn't seen you a little sweaty before. He might actually prefer this look on you."
Gabrielle laughed along with Megan, but inside, her stomach was twisting. She really did want to see Lucan - didn't want to wait another minute, in fact - but what if he had been trying to let her down gently when they spoke that afternoon? How ridiculous would she look then, traipsing into the police station like she thought she was his girlfriend? She would feel like an idiot.
No more so than if she got the news secondhand from his friend Gideon, sent to see her on some pity mission.
"Okay. I'm going to do it."
"Good for you!" Megan slung the strap of her rolled yoga mat up on her shoulder, beaming. "I'm meeting Ray at my place after his shift, but call me first thing in the morning and tell me how it went, you hear me?"
"All right. Tell Ray I said hi."
As Megan dashed off to make the 9:15 train, Gabrielle headed for the police station. Along the way, she remembered Megan's advice and made a quick pit stop, picking up a sweet roll and a cup of coffee: full-strength black, since she had a hard time thinking Lucan would be the type to wuss his down with cream, sugar, or decaffeination.
With these gifts in hand as she reached the door of the precinct house, Gabrielle took a courage-building breath, then stepped over the threshold and strode casually inside.
The worst of his burns had begun to heal by nightfall. New skin grew firm and healthy beneath the feathery peels of the old as the outward damage sloughed away. His eyes, still hypersensitive to even artificial light, registered no pain in the cool darkness topside. Which was good, because he needed to be out here to quench the searing thirst of his recuperating body.
Dante stared at him as the two of them emerged from out of the compound and prepared to part company for a night of recon and hell's own retribution on the Rogues.
"You don't look so good, man. You say the word, I'm out there hunting for you, bring you back something young and strong. You sure as shit need it. And no one has to know you didn't score the sustenance on your own."
Lucan swung a grim look at the male and bared his teeth in a sneer. "Fuck you."
Dante chuckled. "Had a feeling you'd say that. You want me to ride shotgun for you, at least?"
The slow shake of his head sent a knife of pain lancing through his head. "I'm good. Be better, once I feed."
"No doubt." The vampire was silent for a long moment, just looking at him. "You know, that was pretty friggin' impressive, what you did for Conlan today. He wouldn't have seen that coming in a hundred years, but damn, I wish he knew you were the one walking those final steps with him. Way to honor him, man. Truly."
Lucan absorbed the praise without letting it warm him. He'd had his reasons for performing the funeral rite, and winning the admiration of the other warriors wasn't one of them. "Give me an hour to hunt, then contact me back here with your location so we can deal some death to our enemies tonight. In Conlan's memory."
Dante nodded, and rapped his knuckles against Lucan's fist. "You got it."
Lucan hung back as Dante retreated into the dark, his long-legged stride cocky in anticipation of the battles that awaited him on the streets. He drew his twin weapons from their sheaths and raised the curved malebranche blades high over his head. The gleam from those claws of polished steel and Rogue-slaying titanium sparked in the thin glow of moonlight overhead. With a low whoop of a battle cry, the vampire vanished into the shadows of the night.
Lucan followed not long after, taking a similar path into the lightless arteries of the city. His stealthy gait held less bravado than purpose, less eager arrogance than stone-cold need. His hunger was worse than it ever had been, and the roar he sent up into the canopy of stars above was filled with feral rage.
"Can you spell that last name again, please?"
"T-H-O-R-N-E," Gabrielle told the station receptionist, who had already come up empty on her first search of the directory. "Detective Lucan Thorne. I don't know what department he works in. He came to my house after I was in here reporting an attack I witnessed last weekend - a murder."
"Oh, so you want homicide, then?" The young woman's long manicured fingernails clacked over the keyboard in rapid strokes. "Hmm... nope, sorry. He's not listed in that department, either."
"That can't be right. Could you check again for me? Doesn't that system let you search on just the name?"
"It does, but I have no listing anywhere for a Detective Lucan Thorne. You sure he works out of this precinct?"
"I'm certain of it, yes. Your computer system must be out of date or - "
"Oh, hold on! There's someone who can help you out," the receptionist interjected, gesturing toward the entrance doors of the station. "Officer Carrigan! You got a second?"
Officer Carrigan, Gabrielle registered miserably. The aging cop who had given her such a hard time last weekend, all but calling her a liar and a cokehead as he refused to believe her statement about the nightclub slaying. At least now, with Lucan having processed her cell phone pictures with the police lab, she could take comfort in knowing that, regardless of this man's input, the case was moving forward in some fashion.
Gabrielle had to fight to contain her groan as she turned her head and saw the rotund officer taking his sweet time to strut over. When he saw her standing there, the expression of arrogance that seemed so natural on his fleshy face took on a decidedly contemptuous edge.
"Ah, Jay-zuss. You again? Just what I don't need, my last day on the job. I'm retiring in four more hours, darlin'. You'll have to tell it to someone else this time."
Gabrielle frowned. "Excuse me?"
"This young lady is looking for one of our detectives," said the receptionist, sharing a sympathetic look with Gabrielle at the officer's dismissive demeanor. "I can't find him in the system, but she thinks he might be one of yours. Do you know Detective Thorne?"
"Never heard of him." Officer Carrigan started to walk away.
"Lucan Thorne," Gabrielle said with force, setting Lucan's coffee and bagged danish down on the reception counter. She took an automatic step after the cop, nearly reaching for his arm when it seemed he was simply going to leave her standing there. "Detective Lucan Thorne - you must be familiar with him. You folks sent him to my apartment earlier this week to get some additional information on my statement. He brought my cell phone photos into the lab for analysis - "
Carrigan was chuckling now, having paused to look at her as she blurted out the details of Lucan's arrival at her home. She didn't have the patience to deal with the officer's belligerence. Not when her nape was crawling with the feeling that things were about to get weird.
"Are you telling me that Detective Thorne hasn't shared any of this with you?"
"Lady. I'm telling you that I don't know what the hell you're talking about. I've been working out of this station for thirty-five years, and I've never heard of any Detective Thorne, let alone sent him out to your place."
A knot began to form in her stomach, cold and tight, but Gabrielle refused to process the dread that was taking shape beneath her confusion. "That's not possible. He knew about the murder I witnessed. He knew I'd been here, at the station, filing a statement about it. I saw his ID badge when he came to my house. I just talked to him today, he said he was working tonight. I have his cell phone number..."
"Well, I'll tell you what. If it will get you outta my hair any faster, let's give your Detective Thorne a call," Carrigan said. "That ought to clear things right up, eh?"
"Yes. I'll call him now."
Gabrielle's fingers were trembling a little as she dug her cell phone out of her pocketbook and punched in Lucan's number. It rang, unanswered. She tried again, waiting for an agonizing eternity while her call rang and rang and rang, and Officer Carrigan's expression smoothed from dubious impatience to a tentative, sympathetic look she'd seen on more than one social worker's face when she was a kid.
"He's not there," she murmured as she brought the phone away from her ear. She felt awkward and confused, made all the worse for the careful expression on Carrigan's face. "I'm sure he's just tied up with something. I'll try him again in a minute."
"Ms. Maxwell, do you have anyone else we can call? Family, maybe? Someone who can help us make sense of what you might be going through?"
"I'm not going through anything."
"Seems to me like you are. I think you're confused. You know, sometimes people invent things to help them cope with other problems."
Gabrielle scoffed. "I'm not confused. Lucan Thorne is not a figment of my imagination. He's real. These things that have been happening around me are real. The murder I saw last weekend, those... men... with their bloody faces and sharp teeth, even that kid who was watching me the other day at the Common... he works here at the station. What did you do, send him to spy on me?"
"Okay, Ms. Maxwell. Let's see if we can work this out together." Evidently, Carrigan had finally found a scrap of diplomacy underneath the crust of his boorish nature. But there was still a big dose of condescension in the way he took her by the elbow and tried to guide her toward one of the lobby benches for a seat. "Let's just take a few deep breaths, here. We can get you some help."
She shook him off, pulling away. "You think I'm crazy. I know what I saw - all of it! I'm not making this up, and I don't need any help. I just need the truth."
"Sheryl, honey," Carrigan said to the receptionist who was staring at them with apprehension in her eyes. "You wanna give Rudy Duncan a quick call for me? Tell him I could use him down here."
"Meds?" she inquired lightly, the phone already hugged between her ear and shoulder.
"Nah," Carrigan replied, looking back to Gabrielle. "No cause for alarm just yet. Ask him to come down to the lobby, nice and easy, have a little talk with Ms. Maxwell and me."
"Forget it," Gabrielle said, rising off the bench. "I'm not staying here another second. I have to go."
"Look, whatever you're going through, there are people who can help you - "
She didn't wait for him to finish, simply gathered what was left of her dignity, then strode over to the receptionist desk to retrieve the cup and bag from the countertop, and pitched both into the trash on her way out the door.
The night air was crisp against her flushed cheeks, soothing her somewhat. But her head was still spinning. Her heart was still pounding hard with confusion and disbelief.
Had the whole world gone mad around her? What the hell was going on?
Lucan had been lying to her about being a cop, that was pretty much a no-brainer. But just how much of what he'd told her - God, how much of what they'd done together - had been part of that deception?
And why?
Gabrielle paused at the bottom of the concrete steps leading out of the precinct house and took deep lungfuls of air. She blew it out slowly, then looked down to find her cell phone still clutched in her hand.
"Shit."
She had to know.
This strange ride she was on had to stop right now.
The Redial button brought up Lucan's number. She sent the call, then waited, uncertain what she was going to say.