Medium Rare: (Intermix) (10 page)

“Sounds like you do the same things I do.” He took another sip.

“I just know how to search records—I learned how when I was a librarian. That’s all I do.” She flexed her shoulders, running a hand up and down her arm. “It’s cool out here.”

“Yeah, finally. Let’s hear it for October.” He leaned back in his chair, watching twilight slide down the river, darkening the trees. Lights began to appear in some of the houses on the opposite bank. A tree further down on the far side had a series of white blobs among the branches. He squinted. Roosting egrets.

“Interesting wildlife,” he murmured.

Her expression turned guarded. “Excuse me?”

He nodded toward the tree. “Egrets.”

She turned to look. He watched her shoulders relax slightly. The corners of her mouth inched up. “Oh, lovely!”

“Nice neighborhood you got here, Ms. Ramos. How’d you come to live in King William?”

“My grandmother left me the house when she died, along with some money for taxes. Enough for me to start my business.”

“Were you close?”

“Not especially.” She stared down at the egret tree. One of the birds was preening its feathers. “I only saw her a few times while I was growing up, and I don’t remember anything about her. My mother and my grandmother didn’t get along.”

“So how did your family feel about you taking over the house here?”

Her lips compressed into a thin line. “My grandmother wasn’t exactly popular in our family. There wasn’t a lot of interest in her house.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Your family doesn’t visit?”

The corners of her lips moved into a faint smile. “My mom’s been by the house a couple of times. My dad and my brother Ray helped me move in. My dad refers to it as ‘that old bruja’s house.’”

“I gather he and your grandmother also didn’t get along.”

“You gather correctly. What about you?”

“Me?” He shrugged. “What do you want to know?”

“You’re not from around here. Where did you grow up?”

He moved his shoulders to loosen them. He should have known she’d go for the family story. “Galesburg, Illinois. With my grandparents, after my parents died.”

Rose frowned. “I’m sorry. How old were you when they died?”

“Five when my mother died. My father died in an accident when I was twelve.” The short version, of course.

“Did you like Galesburg?”

“It was okay. So you’re in that house all by yourself?”

She took a swallow of wine, deliberately not looking at him. “I’ve got Helen now.”

A drop of wine lingered for a moment on her lips until she licked it away with a brief flash of pink tongue. His heartbeat accelerated slightly. “Yeah, well, I’m sure Helen’s a great distraction. You say she was a stray?”

She gave him a faint smile. “You might say that.”

Helen looked up at him hopefully as the waiter arrived with their dinner. Rose gave her the French fries wrapped in waxed paper from her burger basket and Helen devoured them happily, paper and all. They ate the rest of their meal in relative silence.

After he’d finished, Evan sat back in his chair, enjoying the lingering warmth in the air, along with the cooler breeze down the river. The roosting egrets had been reduced to white splotches against the olive green leaves. Beside him, he could smell Rose’s faint lavender. “Another glass of wine?”

She shook her head. “I’d better get home. It’s getting dark.”

He grinned. “You’re not used to being out after dark?”

“Helen isn’t.” She glanced down to where Helen still lay sprawled beside his chair.

Evan could swear the dog hadn’t moved since she’d consumed the remains of his chicken-fried steak, but now that he looked, he noticed her legs twitching.

He shrugged. “Chasing rabbits in her dreams.”

“Chasing something. I think she needs to get back to the house.” She stood up.

Helen’s eyes popped open and she stared at Rose. For a moment she looked almost confused, as if she didn’t recognize where she was, or with whom.

“Hey, Helen.” Rose knelt beside the dog, her hand outstretched.

Helen growled low in her throat, but Rose stayed beside her. Evan straightened. Wrestling Helen away from Rose would not be his activity of choice. Not to mention there was always the chance it wouldn’t work.

“C’mon, Helen,” she crooned, “you remember me. Just think for a minute.”

Helen stared at her for a moment longer, then her head snaked forward swiftly enough to bring Evan out of his chair until he realized she was licking Rose’s fingers.

He could swear he heard Rose let out a sigh of relief, but when he looked she was smiling blandly.

“Okay, girl.” She snapped the leash to Helen’s collar again. “Time to get you home.”

Chapter 11

Rose tried her best to pretend that nothing peculiar had happened at the café, that Helen’s behavior had been perfectly normal. But in fact she hadn’t been sure what Helen was going to do. She’d been afraid the dog might revert to her previous occupation when the sun went down. Since that occupation involved devouring everybody in sight, the possibility wasn’t one she felt she could ignore.

Evan parked in her driveway, then opened the door for Helen to climb out of the back.

She fastened the dog’s leash to her collar, as he strolled into the backyard. He looked like he was hoping for a house tour. “Your yard goes all the way down to the river?”

“Not all the way.” She wrapped the leather leash twice around her hand before letting Helen scramble after Evan. The dog still didn’t seem delighted to be fastened to anything, even Rose. “A gate at the far end opens onto the bike path.”

Helen strained against the leash again, trying to get to the object of her affection. Rose wondered if there was any way she could open the back door and stuff the dog inside the house. Probably not, since Helen wouldn’t willingly be separated from her newfound crush. Rose didn’t think she was strong enough to bully a hellhound into anything.

Evan began walking down her sloping backyard.

“C’mon, Helen,” she muttered, yanking back in an effort to keep the straining hound from dislocating her shoulder, “let’s make sure he doesn’t get attacked by anything.”

She told herself she wasn’t really watching Evan Delwin’s leg muscles flex as he walked. He just happened to be in front of her and his jeans just happened to show off his thighs really well. Not to mention his ass.

Stop it!

If there was one thing she knew for certain, it was that getting involved with someone who could investigate the details of her life was a bad idea. She had way too many secrets to keep. Besides, if he ever found out how Locators, Ltd. really worked, he’d probably denounce her as a fraud. Not that he could find out anything concrete. Or that he’d believe it even if he could!

But she had to admit, his ass was really . . . nice.

She sighed. She was
not
going to think about Evan Delwin’s ass—or his anything else. She most assuredly was not going to think about what he might look like naked.

Her rowdy imagination obligingly presented her with a picture of a long lean body glistening with perspiration. She wondered briefly if everything else was in proportion with his height.

Okay, that was not a good direction for her thoughts to take. She tightened her hold on Helen’s leash and followed Evan out the gate.

A few couples ambled along the river, as usual. People who stayed in the bed-and-breakfasts scattered through King William usually headed to the river for that “romantic stroll” the brochures promised.

She ignored the tight feeling in her chest, the stiffening of her shoulders. Last night had been a fluke. There was absolutely no reason to expect more trouble along the river. The sun hadn’t even gone all the way down yet. Still, she found herself squinting at the cypress trees on the far side—the shadows beneath them were already thick and dark.

Beside her, Helen made a noise that was somewhere between a whimper and a growl. She reached down to rub the dog’s ears. “Easy, girl. We’re okay.”

Evan was walking on the Johnson Street Bridge, already looking down to the distant streetlights at the curve of the river. “Peaceful here.” He grinned as Rose and Helen reached his side. “Must be a great place to sleep.”

“So you’d think.” She checked the cypress trees again, telling herself she didn’t see anything glowing in the darkness beneath the low-hanging branches.

Shadows dipped down over the houses across the river. Streetlights gradually glowed to life behind them. She hadn’t ever noticed before how few streetlights there were. They left large pools of cloaking darkness along the sidewalks, perfect for concealing all kinds of supernatural hazards. Maybe she’d bring it up at the next King William Association meeting.

Helen yipped sharply, butting her head along Evan’s leg.

“What’s up, girl?” He reached down to scratch her ears. “You going all Lassie on me?”

She yipped again, moving restlessly against the leash.

He frowned. “You can’t be hungry again. You ate dinner less than an hour ago.” He turned his attention back to the river. “You ever try canoeing down here? River looks wide enough.”

“Not really. I’m not much into sports.” She rubbed her arms. It wasn’t really cold enough to raise gooseflesh. She checked the cypresses again.

Helen turned her attention to Rose, jerking back on the leash and whimpering. She began to tow her back toward the path.

“I think she wants to go back to the house,” she murmured.

He sighed. “Okay. It’s starting to mist up again anyway. Fog seems to come up pretty fast these days.”

Rose stared back over her shoulder at the river. The air around them had grown thicker, heavy with moisture, slowly obscuring the trees at the side. Something moved beneath the cypress. This time she was sure.

“Let’s get back inside,” she stammered. “I’ve probably got some cocoa or port or whiskey or something.”

Helen’s claws scraped against the bridge sidewalk as she scrambled urgently back toward the path.

When they reached it, Rose gave the dog her head, not that she had much choice. At least this time she was wearing running shoes. The hound’s lope quickly became a gallop, pulling Rose along behind her like a leaf in a swift current.

Couples turned to stare after her as the two of them pounded up the path. She wondered what they saw exactly. Was the leash invisible like Helen? Small puffs of dust rose from the dog’s paws as they struck the ground, although Rose was fairly certain no one could see them but her and, of course, Evan.

Behind her, she could hear footsteps. She really hoped they were his, but she didn’t have time to turn around and find out—not if she wanted to stay on her feet. Besides, she had a feeling the dog’s instincts about getting away were solid.

At the back gate, Helen leaped up to throw her front paws against the wood, peering over the top and yipping.

Rose bent over behind her, trying to catch her breath.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, and then Evan nudged her to the side, pushing the gate open. “What’s the rush? Something wrong with her?”

“Exercise,” she gasped. “She needs her run.” Her leg muscles were burning, and she had a stitch in her side.

Helen pushed her way through the gate into the backyard, sprinting toward the back door. Rose managed to drop her leash this time, then fumbled in her purse for the key.

Helen scratched frantically at the door, while Rose jiggled the key in the lock, muttering as many obscenities as she could remember under pressure.

After a moment, she felt Evan’s hand on her shoulder again, gently pushing her to the side. “Here, let me.”

Helen rolled the whites of her eyes at him and barked, then threw her head back to bay at the sky.

He ignored her. He fitted the key into the lock and turned it easily.

The hound almost fell in the door, followed by the two of them. In the kitchen doorway, Helen paused and looked back into the thickening mist, growling low in her throat.

“What’s with her?” Evan nodded at Helen as he closed the door.

Rose reached back to flip the lock, then took a deep gulp of air and blew it out, trying to get enough breath in her lungs to answer. “Hungry. She’s frantic when she’s hungry.” She followed the dog through the kitchen, then remembered the fifty-pound sack of kibble in Evan’s SUV. Where it could stay until tomorrow.

“C’mon, Helen.” She rummaged through the pantry until she found a can of chili. “Should I go through the farce of opening this or do you want to just swallow it now?”

Helen sniffed at the can, then turned and trotted toward the living room.

Evan blinked after her. “You’re kidding! She’s turning down food? After sprinting back here?”

Rose set the can on the counter, trying to keep her voice level. Whatever bothered Helen clearly had nothing to do with food. “Apparently.”

He leaned one shoulder against the wall. “You said something about port or whiskey?”

“Or cocoa. I’ll go look.” She stepped into the pantry again. She was fairly sure she didn’t have any cocoa, port, or, most probably, whiskey, but it never hurt to check. She glanced up at the top shelf where Grandma Caroline had left a few things.

Skag was floating close to the ceiling. “Oh, goody,” he snarled, “guests.”

She blew out a quick breath and looked back through the pantry door. Evan had wandered to the kitchen table. Maybe he wouldn’t hear her if she kept her voice down.

“Go away, Skag,” she whispered. “I’m busy. I can’t talk.”

“Believe me, I wouldn’t be in here if the situation weren’t dire.” He floated slightly closer, pulling his cigarette holder from his pocket. “There’s something outside. It’s surrounding the house.”

“I know. Helen sensed it. What is it?”

“I’ve no idea.” He blew a cloud of smoke toward the top shelves. “I’ve never encountered anything like it. Whatever it is, it’s extremely dangerous. It feels like a psychic electrical storm. Do not go out, under any circumstances, until it leaves.”

“How will I know it’s gone?”

“Believe me, you’ll know.”

She rubbed a hand across her eyes, trying to keep her lips from trembling. “What’s happening, Skag? Tell me.”

He shook his head. “I’m still not sure.” His expression softened—for a moment, he looked more like Dumbledore than Addison DeWitt. “I’m trying to find out, Rose. Trust me.”

She closed her eyes, gathering her scattered thoughts. “What about Evan?”

“What about him?” Skag sounded like Addison again.

“Is it a threat to him, too? He’s still the only one who can see Helen besides me.”

Skag floated halfway down the shelves, bobbing slightly in thought. “The danger could extend to him as well. In fact, that would be an interesting test of his psychic abilities.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You mean if it eats him, he’s got advanced ESP? Not going to do him much good then, will it?”

Skag shrugged, sucking on his cigarette holder. “He’d probably try to find some kind of logical explanation for it. Nevertheless, keep him inside until it’s over. The house is safe, although tomorrow we’ll need to make it safer.”

“Keep him inside? How am I supposed to do that, short of tying him to the living room couch?”

“I have no idea of your personal preferences.” Skag tapped invisible ash onto the floor, smiling grimly. “You’ll think of something, Rose, you’re a clever girl. I’ll try to pierce through the fog and discover what’s outside. You keep Delwin busy.” He floated toward the ceiling again.

She watched him disappear. Frankly, she’d never felt less clever in her life.

***

Evan sat at the kitchen table trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Usually when a woman asked him back to her place, her intentions were pretty clear. And usually he was glad to oblige. But Rose didn’t give him the impression she was interested in seduction.

Not that he’d be opposed to the idea if she were. Spending the day around her had come close to giving him a chronic hard-on. It wasn’t just her beauty, although she was beautiful enough. There was something about her that sent his senses into overdrive. She was quickly becoming an itch he wanted—no,
needed
—to scratch.

He glanced out the kitchen window. Fog swirled near the glass, removing all sense of the world outside. He squinted. Strange. He’d never seen fog like this in San Antonio, and he didn’t remember anything weird in the weather forecast.

Rose was muttering in the pantry. Okay, that was a little odd, but he’d been known to do some muttering himself at times.

“You need any help?” he called.

She emerged with a bottle in her hand and another tucked under her arm, handing him the first and setting the second on the table. “This one’s left over from my grandma. It looks like port but I don’t know anything about it. With Grandma Caroline, it could be anything. This one’s just wine, but at least I know it’s good. Cabernet from the Hill Country. Any preferences?”

Outside a gust of wind rattled the window. She jumped.

“Just the wind.” He looked at the dusty bottle of possible port. “This looks interesting. I’m game if you are.”

She pushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. “I’m game.”

He reluctantly decided not to read anything more into that than a wine preference.

Helen wandered into the kitchen as Rose lifted glasses from the cabinet. She paced the length of the room a couple of times, whimpering as she glanced at the window behind him.

He reached out to rub her ears, but the dog ducked around his fingers. “What’s up with Helen?”

Rose picked up a corkscrew and attempted unsuccessfully to pierce the cork. “I think the weather has her spooked. To tell you the truth, it has me spooked, too.”

She gave the corkscrew a desperate twist with no particular effect. After a moment, he took it from her hands and started working on the bottle himself. “Windy and wet. Not unusual for this time of year.”

“With a fog like something out of Sherlock Holmes?” She shook her head. “I don’t remember seeing weather like this before. And I’ve lived in this town all my life.” She rubbed her hands along her arms.

He poured a glass of port and handed it to her. “Drink up. It’ll warm your cockles.”

“My cockles are fine, thank you very much.”

“Drink it anyway.” He glanced at the bentwood kitchen chairs that seemed designed to fill chiropractors’ waiting rooms. “Could we maybe move someplace more comfortable?”

She peered into the living room, then shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

He followed her in, taking a seat on a dark blue couch with a set of pillows that looked like they could swallow him whole. As he sank into its depths, he took a sip of port. The dark, rich flavor slid smoothly over his tongue.

“Very good stuff.” He raised his glass in Rose’s general direction. “My compliments to your grandma.”

Across the room, she switched on a lamp that filled the room with muted light, then stood watching him. He had a feeling she was trying to decide where to sit, given the limited options.