Craving (19 page)

The last six years had been a continuous, unrelenting struggle. I’d lied, stolen, and cheated, and part of me was glad this would finally come to an end. I couldn’t do this for another twenty years. But did I have it in me to hand over Josh?

I lay in bed curled around Kitten, listening to her slow, deep breaths as she slept. I’d been locked in Alistair’s cell for an hour, yet I thought I’d lose my mind. To be tormented by him forever… My brain blanked the prospect.
Five days
. I hugged Kitten closer to me. Five days of freedom left.

My mouth was closed, but I still screamed inside.

* * * *

I awoke with a start. That fucking black-winged angel had been staring at me again. Jerking upright, I opened my eyes to see daylight.
Where was I
? A door banged somewhere, and I dragged in a deep breath as I reminded myself: in a hotel, with Kitten. The bed lay empty beside me, but I could smell citrus coming from the bathroom. She must be in the shower.
God
. My hands shook as I dropped back against the pillow, my heart still hammering inside my chest.
Five days
. Alistair’s voice taunted me.

My craving for Kitten already bone deep, I needed to have her near me. I craved her touch, her perfume, her voice. Just as I climbed out of bed to go and look for her, she walked into the bedroom wrapped in a large, white towel. We met in the middle of the floor and I crushed her to me, my fingers clenching in the towel. How could I leave her?

Her anxious words didn’t make sense. “Dante—
Angel
. I have some bad news for you, babe.”

After the utter shite of the past twenty four hours, it couldn’t be that bad.

“What’s the matter?”

She disentangled herself from my arms, took my hand, and led me to the sofa while she picked up a newspaper from the table. Tucking the towel a little tighter, she stroked my arm. “I was looking at the morning newspaper while you slept.” Her voice was grave, and I felt a ripple of fear. “There’s no easy way to tell you. A guy was knifed on Sunday night.” Her eyes searched my face. “I think it was your friend Ash.” Her gentle words washed over me, and I frowned.

Ash? Knifed? She opened the newspaper and passed it across. A grainy picture of my old friend smiled up at me.
What the fuck?
I tried to read the story, but the words swam on the page. Scrubbing at my face, I spoke roughly. “How did it happen?”

Kitten cleared her throat, then read the story aloud.

Police have today confirmed the name of the man brutally knifed and left bleeding in a back street. 28-year old Graham Ashton was the proprietor of Ink City, a popular tattoo business in Stretford, Manchester. Police are appealing for witnesses to this vicious attack. His unconscious body was discovered by neighbors in the early hours of Monday morning, following a disturbance at his girlfriend’s house. It’s thought he was knifed multiple times, and the police have confirmed that an illegal butterfly knife was found nearby. His girlfriend, Nanette Lewis, has not been seen since Sunday evening, and police are concerned for her safety.

Graham Ashton remains in a critical condition in hospital.

A series of disjointed images smashed through my brain.
Standing in a pool of blood
. My mouth dry, I tried to move my tongue, to form words and speak. Kitten stared at me puzzled as everything happened in slow motion. I stood up, shoving at the sofa, pushing the newspaper out of Kitten’s hands.
A shining knife reflecting the amber streetlights.
She stared at me, her eyes wide. My fists clenched by my side, and I swayed, my lungs tight and parched for air. I staggered to the bed and searched for my jeans, my shirt, my boots.

“I have to go.”

“
Angel
, listen to me.” Kitten wrapped her arms around me from behind. “I know it’s a shock, but—”

“That’s
my
knife.”

A pause. I could practically hear the cogs turning in her brain. “You carry a butterfly knife?”

“Yeah.” I gulped in some air.
So much blood, it made me feel nauseous.
“I did, but I lost it.”

“It doesn’t mean it’s
your
knife.”

I stood frozen, wearing just my boxers, with Kitten warm and reassuring at my back.
I couldn’t do that.
Not to Ash.

Kitten was talking again, and I tried to listen past the whistling in my ears. “It says that Nanette is missing.”

“She was fine when I left her.”

“When—
where
did you see her?”

“In bed, early Monday morning. Does it say when they think it happened?” I spoke without thinking, still scrabbling through the black-hole that served as my memory for Sunday night.

Uh oh
. Kitten’s arms left me abruptly. I slowly turned as her voice turned arctic. “You slept with her on Sunday night.”

“I, uh, played poker at her house.”

A brief flash of fury in those expressive amber eyes. “You left my bed on Sunday, and went straight to Nanette’s, then came back to mine.”

It hadn’t been quite like that… or maybe it had. “I don’t remember sleeping with her.”

“Well isn’t that convenient.”

Ouch
.

She crossed her arms and glared at me, scorching me with a blast of rage. “Any other memory lapses, Dante? Anything else I might like to know?”

9.4 Katherine

I stared at Dante, unsure if I wanted to add another bruise to his collection. How much of a fool had I been? He’d run straight to Nanette’s waiting arms when I’d thrown him out of my father’s. Then left her—
in bed—
and slept with me. Why not push the humiliation levels even higher. “Go on then,” I demanded, my voice amazingly normal. “Anything else?”
His friend has just been knifed
, I reminded myself. But then again, he’d gone bed-hopping before that happened.

Clutching a bundle of clothes, he sank onto the sofa and hung his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “God help me, Kitten. What if I attacked Ash?” He fixed shining eyes on me as I squirmed deeper into the bath towel, tugging it up to my neck. I wore it like a suit of armor.

“He’s your friend,” I squeaked, taking an automatic step backward. “
Did
you?”

“
I don’t know
. I don’t remember
anything
between the poker and waking up with Nan.”

“It doesn’t mean you did it.”

His voice hollow, eyes covered. “I saw blood. And a knife.” He spoke so softly, I barely heard him. He massaged his temples, still avoiding my gaze. “It was, I dunno, more like a dream than a memory. But,
God
. Not Ash.”

There was a long silence. I sank onto the bed and watched him hunched on the sofa. Dark hair slid across his forehead. I knew it would feel like silk to my fingertips. Gabe’s spirit had called me the Lost Girl, but Dante looked so lost and lonely, I wanted to gather him in my arms and comfort him. My sensible side yelled at me to walk away.

He dug out his cellphone and dialed a number, listened, and then made a frustrated noise. “Her phone’s switched off. Nan’s. I can’t even leave her a voicemail.”

Silver eyes met mine in a soulful gaze. “That story might just be so much bullshit, you know.”

A knock at the door was ignored, but Josh’s voice demanded our attention. “Dante? Katherine?”

I swallowed and managed a reply. “Just a minute.” Grabbing my clothes, I shot back into the bathroom to dress. Moments later when I emerged, Dante had also pulled jeans on and was easing into his shirt. I itched to help him—he must be hurting after such a kicking last night—but I held back. The thought of him loving Nanette tore into me, and I walked to the door with my head held high. He wouldn’t hurt me like that again.

“We need to talk.” Josh’s voice was calm, but his stiff jaw and furrowed brow told a different story. “Come in our room. There’s something you need to see on the news.”

I went back to grab the room keycard, and Dante held out his hand to me, his eyes filled with longing. I shook my head. “I told you I’d call you,” I whispered. “Didn’t you believe me?”

His lips tightened, and I couldn’t miss the pain skittering across his face. “I told you. I don’t remember it.”

I blinked. This conversation was familiar… I trawled through my memory and recalled the day after the second séance, when Chaz had been trying to defend his actions.

“You coming?” Josh called over his shoulder, and I shook myself before following him, Dante trailing behind me. There was no sign of Suki. Josh’s laptop sat on the table, open on the BBC News page and my stomach lurched when I read the headline. Behind me, Dante made a shocked noise. Even without turning, I knew he stood close.

“We’ve already seen the story in the newspaper.” I worked hard to control the tremor in my voice.

Josh raised one eyebrow. “You won’t have seen the update half an hour ago.” His dark eyes rested on Dante. “Watch this.”

He clicked something, and a video clip fired up. I leaned closer to the screen, Dante followed. A smartly dressed female reporter stood in front of a taped off section of pavement. She spoke rapidly, her voice high and excited. “The violent knife attack on Graham Ashton takes a sordid turn with new information this morning. Two witnesses have come forward to describe a man running away from the scene, just after midnight. Tall with dark hair, he has a distinctive tattoo on each arm—a dragon and a snake.” Josh clicked again, and the screen paused, the reporter standing with her mouth open in mid-speech. We all stared at Dante’s gray face, the only color coming from the fresh grazes and bruises.

He twisted his hands together, cracking his knuckles.

“There’s more.” Josh sounded grim as he clicked with his mouse.

The reporter continued, her delight obvious at the scoop she’d landed. “The same two witnesses heard screams moments later and saw a woman being dragged into the back of a white van. From her description, this is believed to be the missing Nanette Lewis, the girlfriend of the victim.” The reporter paused and glanced at her notepad. “The van was driven away at high speed.” She beamed into the camera while I felt a wave of nausea.

A man lay fighting for his life, a girl was missing—and she was enjoying herself. Meanwhile, she chattered on. “I took the opportunity to talk to the victim’s sister, Julia Ashton. She expressed concern for Nanette’s safety as she was allegedly being stalked by an ex-boyfriend, known only by his gang-name
Dante
. It’s early days to be speculating, but it’s widely thought that
Dante
picked a fight with Graham Ashton and then kidnapped Nanette Lewis. Police are actively searching for
Dante
, real name unknown, and the public is warned he is likely to be dangerous.” She smirked into the camera some more.

Josh stopped the video and squared up to Dante. Taller and more muscular, he looked as though he could be formidable in a fight, and I mentally applauded how brave he’d been the night before. Right now though, he didn’t look like an ally. “Tell me the truth, Dante.”

I shivered at the hard tone in his voice.

“Did you have anything to do with this?”

9.5 Josh

I ignored Katherine, sensing the fear pouring off her, and concentrated on Dante. He just stared at me with wide, shocked eyes. “I don’t know.”

“Josh.
Please
!” Katherine sounded close to tears. “I think he’s been set up.”

Without moving my head, I replied. “What makes you think that?”

“Because he doesn’t remember anything about it.”

I cocked my head slightly. “Well, Dante?”

“I think it was my knife that was used on Ash.” His voice hitched on the name, his breathing erratic.

Katherine circled round to his side, her face taut with fear. “That’s his friend you’re talking about. He wouldn’t
do
that. And Nanette—he wouldn’t hurt her. They’re lovers.”

Dante made a strangled noise at Katherine’s impassioned cry. “I know you only have my word for it, but I left Nan’s place around five in the morning. She was asleep.” White lines bracketed his mouth as he spoke. “I rode to York, to see Gran, and then I came to find you. I swear, I didn’t hurt Nan. And since she was still in bed at five, they’re talking bullshit. There’s no way she was dragged into any van at midnight.”

“Who were you playing poker with? Can’t you ask them?” Katherine again.

“Three guys, never met them before. Friends of Nan.” His jaw tensed. “They ripped me off and planted fake notes on me. Which is why I was in trouble last night.” He swallowed, hard. “And I think they nicked my knife. If
they
attacked Ash, then Nan might be in danger.”