A man’s errors are his
portals of discovery.
—James Joyce
20
“Little mouse,” the voice said
again.
I’d like to say it was the knowledge
that the voice wasn’t real that made it so easy not to be afraid.
But in reality, I was almost 100 percent sure it was the
medication. Either way, my heart wasn’t trying to shove its way
through my rib cage, and my lungs weren’t deflating, and my skin
wasn’t prickling with goose bumps. I was groggy but calm as I
opened my eyes.
“Who are you?” I asked.
Its laugh could best be described as
oily. “You don’t remember ?”
“No.” Even though I knew the voice was
a hallucination, I stared into the shadows, expecting to see a
face. “I don’t remember anything. Why are you here?”
“To give you what you
deserve.”
“What’s that? I hope it’s good. Like a
pot of gold or something.”
More of that slimy laughter echoed
through the room. “I’m not a leprechaun.”
“Of course you’re not. You’re ... what?
The tooth fairy?”
It was as if the shadows peeled back,
and a gruesome face appeared before me. “Do I look like the tooth
fairy to you?” it asked. The eyes shined silver, like the
reflection of the flash in an animal’s eyes. The nose was broad and
nearly flat. The skin pearly white. The thin lips curled back to
reveal pointed teeth. It was not a pretty sight.
“I don’t know what the tooth fairy
looks like. I’ve never met her ... or is it him? Since we’re
talking about your ‘looks,’ can I just say, you could use a little
help from the Queer Guys? I am not a fashionista, but even I can
tell your hair is a train wreck, and your clothing.... That shirt
is a nightmare. The color’s all wrong for your complexion. And as
for the rest of you—well, I pride myself in not holding what one
cannot help against him. You’ve clearly inherited more than your
share of ugly genes.”
The face took on a pink tint. I think I
was annoying it, whatever it was. I wished I didn’t feel so numb. I
might have enjoyed this. “You thought you’d escaped from me, from
your obligation, but you didn’t. And now I’ve come back to claim
what is mine.” The shadows folded back over the face, like a
cloak.
I had to marvel at my creativity. This
was truly bizarre.
“Are you sure you’ve got the right
girl?” I scooted up, letting my headboard support my upper body. “I
don’t remember trying to escape from anyone—let alone someone as
memorable as you.”
“It was a long time ago.”
“Hmm. Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s
bad to hold grudges? Maybe that’s why I didn’t recognize you... .”
I didn’t finish that sentence. Imaginary or not, this thing didn’t
deserve to be insulted for being ugly. After all, nobody deserved
to be blamed for their appearance. There was only so much that
plastic surgery could do, especially in this case.
“My time is almost up,” the thing said,
snarling. “But I will return tomorrow. And you will soon reap your
just rewards.”
“Okay. Till tomorrow, then.” I
waved.
The thing stuck its face in mine, and
the stench of rotten meat burned my nostrils. “You should be afraid
of me. Why aren’t you scared anymore?”
“Because I know the
truth.”
“What truth?”
“That you’re a figment of my
imagination. You’re an illusion. A hallucination.”
“A hallucination? Is that what you
think?” The thing turned and lurched across the room, halting in
front of the wall. With its claws, it etched the words I’ll be back in the drywall. “Is that a
hallucination?”
“Okay, who do you think you are? The
Terminator?” I stumbled over and traced the scrawled letters with a
fingertip. My fingernail dipped into the grooves. Those jagged
edges sure felt real. But maybe I had dug those letters into the
wall myself? I didn’t know how to judge anymore what was real and
what wasn’t. “I can’t say for sure if it’s a hallucination or
not.”
“What?” the monster said, clearly
incredulous.
“Well, who’s to say I didn’t do this
myself? I could, you know. With a screwdriver or
something.”
The monster gritted its teeth and took
a look around. “You’re making this difficult.”
“I’m not trying to.” I shrugged.
“Lately it’s been a bit of a challenge discerning what’s real and
what’s not. According to my doctor, you’re not real. Prove her
wrong, and I’ll be adequately scared.”
The monster slitted its eyes at me.
“Fine. But I’m out of time.” Then it sort of melted into the
shadows and vanished.
I slid back under the covers and fell
asleep.
Sunlight cutting through the slats of
the window blinds woke me up the next day. Despite having no place
to go, I dove into the shower, put on some makeup, and fixed my
hair. Instead of donning work clothes, however, I jumped into a
pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. I headed into the kitchen and
flipped on the coffeemaker. I was feeling a little more energetic
today, less doped up. Maybe there was hope I’d be able to function
while taking the medication. One thing was for certain—I wasn’t
going to tell the doctor I was still having hallucinations. She’d
increase my dose, and I’d be back to being a zombie. No thanks. I
would rather live with the nocturnal visits by my ugly friend, whom
I’d deemed “Mr. Stinky,” than walk around in a stupor.
As it turned out, he wasn’t all that
scary, after all.
Coffee done, I poured myself a big mug,
dumped my pills in my mouth, and downed half of it while watching
the morning news. There was no sign of Katie, so I kept the volume
low. After the news ended, I powered up my computer and checked my
e-mail. Outside of the usual spam, I had only one message. From
Gabe. It was brief. Two words. Call me. Dated
yesterday.
The medication was kicking in, so I
decided I needed to rest for a while before calling him. I sat on
the couch. Next thing I knew, my cell phone was ringing. The
display said it was four o’clock. In the afternoon. That made no
sense. I couldn’t have been sitting on the couch, staring at the
walls, for six hours ... could I?
The caller was Gabe.
I hit the button, answering the call,
“Hello?”
“Skye! Where the hell have you
been?”
“I’ve been feeling a little under the
weather,” I slurred.
“Are you okay? I heard about the attack
only yesterday. Rumor was, you’d been taken to the
hospital.”
“Yeah. I’m all right.
Thanks.”
“What happened?” he asked.
I padded into the kitchen. I was kind
of hungry. “Long story. I don’t want to get into it right now. It
had nothing to do with the case.”
“You sound strange. Are you sure you’re
okay? Why didn’t you call me?”
I opened the refrigerator. Olives. Some
milk, which had expired two days ago. A block of green cheese.
Maybe I wasn’t so hungry, after all. “I’m on some ... pain ...
medication. It’s making me a little groggy.” Understatement of the
century. “But you’ve got me now. Was there something
else?”
“I was wondering if you’d received
those test results back yet.”
I returned to the couch. “Oh, those. I
heard something.”
“I’ll come over.”
“O-okay.”
“Can I bring you anything? Some
dinner?” he asked.
“No, that’s not
necessary.”
“Yes, it is. What are you in the mood
for? Chinese? Mexican? Burgers? Pizza?”
“Nothing.”
“Pizza it is, then. I’ll bring enough
for your roommate too. She’s still living with you, isn’t
she?”
“Yeah.” Speaking of Katie, I wondered
what she’d been doing all this time. Had she strolled right past me
without my noticing? I really wasn’t liking what that medication
was doing to my brain. Not one little bit. “That’s very thoughtful,
but I’m not hungry, and I’m not sure if Katie’s home.”
“See you in an hour,” he said, and hung
up before I could argue with him.
I shoved my phone under a pillow,
deciding it was better if I didn’t answer it anymore, and went in
search of Katie. I already knew the kitchen was abandoned. She
wasn’t in the bathroom. Her bedroom door was shut. I opened it a
tiny bit and peered into her room.
What the
hell?
My first reaction was confusion. Katie
was a neat freak. She was absolutely anal about keeping her stuff
organized and tidy. This room looked like it had been ransacked by
felons.
Had it been?
I tried to push the door open wider,
but something behind it was blocking the movement. I shoved. I
heaved. I turned around and used my back to push. It gave a little,
just enough for me to squeeze through the opening. I stepped
inside, searching the floor for a pathway to the bed. There wasn’t
one.
The floor, from wall to wall, was
covered by clothes, papers, books, trash. I’d never seen anything
like it. The bed looked like a mountain, the peak almost reached
the ceiling.
What was with Katie now?
Something moved near Mt. Katie’s base.
I tugged at a blanket and found Katie, sleeping.
She blinked her eyes open. “What are
you doing?” she mumbled.
“I ... uh ... just checking on you. Are
you feeling okay?”
“Yes,” she snapped, grabbing the
blanket out of my hand and flopping it over her head. “It’s a
headache. No big deal.”
“Okay. Sorry for disturbing you.” I
picked my way through the mess to the doorway, wormed through the
opening, and shut the door.
Now, that was weird.
First there were the so-called anxiety
attacks. Now this. Could be stress. Could be
something else. Depression?
Before I could decide what to do, or
not do, about it, a knock sent me shuffling toward the front door.
I peered through the peephole. JT. I opened the door. “Hi.” I
stepped to the side, welcoming him in.
He flashed a brilliant smile at me and
gave me an assessing look as he sauntered past. He pushed a box
into my hands. “How are you feeling?” He made himself comfy on my
couch.
I looked down at the box. It was
wrapped in pink paper and had a big silver bow on it. “What’s
this?”
“A get-well present.”
“That was nice of you. Thanks.” I
started pulling the tape off, but a second knock signaled the
arrival of another guest. I checked the peephole. “Mom.” I opened
the door and hurried her inside. “You’ve been
discharged?”
“Yes.” She glanced at me, then at JT,
then at me again.
“How did you get home?” I asked
her.
“I called your cell first, but you
didn’t answer. So I took a taxi.” She back-stepped toward the exit.
“Um, Sloan, if this is a bad time—”
“No.” JT was on his feet in a blink,
rushing to my mother’s side. “I’m not staying long.”
“Don’t hurry out on my account.” Mom
grabbed JT’s hand and dragged him back toward the couch. “I’m very
happy to see you again. Please make yourself comfortable. What I
came for won’t take but a minute.” She waited until JT was sitting,
and then she turned back to me. “Sloan, if I could speak to you in
private for a moment.”
“Sure, Mom. We can talk in my room.” I
closed us in my bedroom. “What is it?”
“It’s about your father.” She motioned
toward the door. Pressed her finger to her pursed lips. Tiptoed to
the door and flattened one side of her head against it. Several
seconds passed as she stood there, listening. Finally she headed
toward the opposite side of the room, eyeballing the new artwork
chiseled into the drywall as she walked past it. “What’s
this?”
“It’s nothing. I was ...
dreaming.”
“That doesn’t look like a dream.” Mom
traced the letters with her fingertip.
“I guess I was sleepwalking and
dreaming. What were you saying about Dad?”
She jerked her hand away from the wall.
“I think he’s still alive.”
“What?” Someone knocked on the bedroom
door. We both looked at it. I sighed, stomped to the door, and
pulled it open.
JT pointed toward the living room.
“Someone’s at your door.”
“My house is a regular circus tonight.”
Distracted by what my mother had just said, I headed to the front
door.
Gabe rushed in, ramming a hot pizza box
into my hands. “So what’s the story?”
I motioned behind me. “I hope you
brought a large pizza. This gathering’s a little bigger than I’d
expected.”
Gabe’s eyes widened. “Oh. Uh. Yeah,
it’s a large. Sausage, onion, and black olives.”
“I love black olives.” Mom yanked the
box out of my hands and carted it into the kitchen.
JT moseyed up behind me, and the two
men had what looked like a stare-down. They reminded me of two
snarling dogs.
“Sloan, where are your napkins?” Mom
called from the kitchen.
I sidestepped out from between the two
men and went to her aid, figuring they’d work out their differences
better without me being in the middle of things. It seemed I was
right. By the time I’d located a few rumpled napkins, they were
strolling toward us, looking a little friendlier. At least they
weren’t about to rip each other to shreds. For
now.
I dished out the pizza and we all found
a spot in the living room to eat. I sat on the couch, wedged
between JT and Gabe, my ass pinned between theirs. It might’ve been
cozy if it hadn’t been so awkward.
Mom sat in the chair, happily munching
away, as if she hadn’t a care in the world. “How have you been,
Gabe? I haven’t seen you in ages, since you dumped Sloan... . Gosh,
how long ago was that?”
“We were in high school,” Gabe said.
“But I didn’t dump her. Sloan broke up with me.”
Liar.
“It’s ancient history, Mom,” I said.
“Doesn’t matter anymore who broke up with whom.”
“Yes, that’s true. Especially now that
you’re dating JT.” Mom beamed at JT.
I felt Gabe’s leg stiffen against
mine.
“I’m not dating JT, Mom. It’s against
bureau policy. And even if it wasn’t, I’m only an intern. It
wouldn’t look good for me to be sleeping with one of my superiors.”
I didn’t bother telling my mother that I’d been put on medical
leave and wouldn’t be returning to the bureau, anyway. That was a
conversation for later.
Gabe’s leg relaxed.
Mom frowned. “Oh, that’s too bad. I
really like JT. He reminds me of your father. Intelligent.
Good-looking.”
I glanced at JT. His face was the shade
of a beet. The color looked good on him. Was there anything that
didn’t?
“Thank you, Mrs. Skye,” JT said. “I
like your daughter very much. But I also respect her. And I
wouldn’t wish to harm her career. She’s an intelligent, capable
woman, brave and committed, and the bureau would be fortunate to
have her as a permanent member someday.”
I wondered how much he knew about my
diagnosis and its effect on my career. I set my plate on the coffee
table, next to my cup.
“You’re not eating,” JT
murmured.
“My appetite isn’t quite normal
yet.”
“So, Gabe, what have you been up to
since you dumped my daughter?” Mom asked.
Gabe set his empty plate next to my
full one. He swiped my untouched slice of pizza and took a bite.
“Well, I’ve been going to school... .”
“I need to talk to you,” JT whispered
in my ear as Gabe and Mom chatted. “Alone.”
I motioned to Mom and Gabe. “That’s
going to be a bit tough right now. Can’t it wait?”
“ No.”
My gaze ping-ponged back and forth
between Mom and Gabe. They seemed to be fairly involved at the
moment, engaged in a discussion of quantum gravity.
“Okay,” I whispered. “But let’s try not
to make it too obvious.” I stood, scooped my plate, and headed
toward the kitchen. “Excuse me for just a minute. My stomach’s been
acting up.” I winked at JT. “I need to go lie down for a
few.”
Mom gave me a look, then went right
back to her conversation with Gabe. I headed into my room and flung
myself onto the bed. A few minutes later, I heard JT excuse himself
to use the bathroom. Seconds afterward, we were in my room, the
door closed.
“So ... ?” I said, sitting up and
hanging my feet over the edge of the bed.
“First, I need to ask you not to share
our conversation with anyone, not even your mother.”
“Okay.” Why did I feel like I was about
to be blindsided? I mentally braced myself.
JT sat beside me. “You need to stop
taking the medication you were prescribed
immediately.”
Oh, thank God.
“I do? Why?”
“Because you don’t need
it.”
Thank God ... wait.
Does that mean ... ? “What do you mean, I ‘don’t need
it’?”
JT put a hand on my knee. “Sloan,
you’re not schizophrenic.”
At this point, I would have rather
believed I was. The alternative was much too ugly to face.
“But—”
JT nodded. “I know what the doctor told
you. She based her diagnosis on the information the bureau gave
her.”
The bureau? “And
... ?”
“It wasn’t exactly
accurate.”
“I’m not schizophrenic.” I hiccupped or
sobbed. Or something. Not schizophrenic.
“Oh, God.”
“No, you’re not.”
I was happy and terrified, both. “That
means the attack wasn’t a hallucination.” My gaze sailed across the
room, landing on the marked wall. I swallowed a lump in my throat
the size of Mt. Everest.
“No, it wasn’t.” JT’s gaze followed
mine.
“I’m confused. Why did you tell my
doctor it was, then?”
JT went to inspect the wall closer. “I
didn’t. Chief Peyton did. Actually, what she did was show the
doctor a section of the surveillance tape. She couldn’t risk our
case getting out. She’d rather see you temporarily misdiagnosed
than have people panicking, running around telling the media that
vampires are real.”
I wanted to stand up and march over to
him, but I didn’t trust my legs at the moment. They were a little
mushy. “I don’t understand. If the doctor saw the tape, why
wouldn’t she know I wasn’t hallucinating?”
“Because the being that attacked you
doesn’t record with standard video equipment.” JT traced the
b with his index finger. “Neither its image
nor its voice was captured on the tape. We picked it up with
infrared, which is why we know you weren’t
hallucinating.”
I was stunned. Relieved. And terrified.
I wasn’t insane. At least, not yet. That was the best news I’d
heard in ages.
But something was out there, something
I didn’t understand. And it wanted something from me.
JT turned his back to the wall, facing
me. “The chief thought, after all of this, you’d like to take a
couple of days for yourself.”
“But what about our case? Have there
been any more deaths? And what about my blood tests? Was I injected
with some kind of infectious agent? And the thing that attacked
me—”
JT chuckled. “One at a time.” He
strolled over to me and laid his hands on mine. “You tested
negative for all tropical infectious diseases known to exist. No
worries there. And as far as your attacker, we don’t believe it’s
the unsub. You will be under surveillance, twenty-four–seven, until
it’s caught.”
“It came back. Last night.” I pointed
at the wall. “It did that.” We both went over to it this time. I
stood behind him, almost afraid to get too close, now that I knew
for certain it had been made by a monster. “It said I did
something, tried to escape from my obligation. I thought it was a
hallucination, so I didn’t take it seriously. But now ... you see
what that says.”
“We’ll be ready for it.”
I shivered. “How can you be ready for
something you can’t see? Or hear?” I wrapped my arms around myself.
An icy draft caressed my nape. I whirled around. Nothing was behind
me. “I’m going to be chasing shadows,” I mumbled.
“I won’t let anything happen to you.”
JT gathered me into his arms, and I relaxed against him. I closed
my eyes and enjoyed the scent of him as it teased my nostrils. His
heat seemed to seep into my pores and radiate through my
body.
This felt so right, so good, being held
by JT. He made me feel safe, even from invisible creatures. Safe
and cherished and special. A big part of me wanted to say to hell
with the stupid FBI and all its rules, and let this thing between
us take its natural course. There were a million other things I
could do with my life than chase bad guys and play with
guns.
But then the image of Tutu Girl played
through my mind.
I’m no quitter. I’ve
been preparing for this job my entire life. The good I might do is
far more important than some silly romance that probably won’t
last.
“What’s happened with our case the past
few days?” I asked.
Recognizing the tone of my voice, JT
released me, backing up a step. “There’s been another death. The
unsub is back to killing. We don’t know why she stopped for a
while, but we’re going to figure it out.”
“I want to get back to
work.”
“I don’t think it’s safe, not now.” JT
grabbed my shoulders. His grip was tight. His gaze was dark, full
of desperation.
“The thing chasing me isn’t going to
stop, whether I’m working or not.”
My bedroom door swung
open.
JT and I jerked away from each other;
then we looked to see who had caught us.
Gabe’s expression was as dark as JT’s
had been moments ago. “You asshole,” Gabe grumbled.
JT visibly tensed. “We’re having a
private conversation. Get lost.”
“Like hell I will.” Gabe marched into
my bedroom, grabbed my arm, and practically dragged me away from
JT.
I wound up and smacked Gabe. “Get your
hands off me.”
“You don’t want to know what people are
saying.” Gabe jabbed a finger at JT. “And it’s his
fault.”
“What are they saying?” I asked
JT.
JT fumed for a moment, then charged out
of the room.
I wound up to smack Gabe again, but I
didn’t follow through.
“I’m telling the truth,” Gabe said,
softer this time.
“What are you talking
about?”
“JT told some of the guys down in the
BAU that he’s sleeping with you.”
I plopped on my bed. “What? He
wouldn’t.”
“He did.”
“But we’re not.”
“I guessed as much.” Gabe sat beside
me. “Not yet.”
“Why would he lie?” I asked
him.
“Why do a lot of guys lie? To make
himself look good.”
I don’t know if it was hopeful
thinking, or being stupid and gullible, but I didn’t believe JT had
told anyone we were sleeping together. I stared down at the floor
and did some soul-searching. “I don’t know... .”
Gabe set his hand upon mine. “You gotta
watch these people. They aren’t all that they appear.”
“What’s that mean?”
Mom stormed into the room. “What’s
going on in here? That friend of yours, JT, just ran out of the
apartment like his ass was on fire. And I think there’s something
wrong with your roommate, Sloan. She’s in the kitchen. Come and
see.”