Lover Arisen (Black Dagger Brotherhood #20)(37)

“I was downright offended.”

And people say vampires and humans had nothing in common, he thought grimly.

God, if only he could keep talking to her like this. About nothing special or stressful. He loved the sound of her voice.

But of course, that wasn’t their reality.

“I’m going to call this scene in,” she said. “And I’m not going to stop looking for you. Sooner or later, I’m going to find you and figure this whole thing out. If you have any decency at all, you’ll make that easier rather than harder on me—because, quite frankly, I’ve been way past my limit for years now. But that’s not your problem, is it.”

“I can save us both. You aren’t going to have to defend yourself.”

“You’re speaking to a woman who lives alone and puts murderers behind bars. I always have to defend myself.” She threw up her hands. “And if you’d let me know what the hell we’re talking about, that would be just great.”

In the silence that followed, he reflected how, lately, his life had been one bad decision after bad-luck-kick-in-the-nuts after another. So of course, he had to open his piehole.

“You’re right, Herbert Cambourg wasn’t killed by a human,” Balz heard himself say. “And you’re right. That shadow in your dream is very, very real.”

“So what is it?” she asked in a reedy voice.

“It’s evil. Pure evil.”

“What’s going on here in Caldwell? What’s behind the curtain? You’ve got to tell me.”

“The less you know, the better. But I am going to protect you.” He put his palm up to her again. “Yes, I know I’m a low-life criminal, a thief, a killer, all that bullshit. But when I tell you I’m not going to let anything happen to you, I mean it.”

“I’m not going to remember this, am I.” She shook her head. “I’ve tripped and fallen into another world, haven’t I. And you’re going to fix it so I stay in mine.”

She had an odd look on her face, as if she had tried to reconcile two mutual exclusives, and when that had proven impossible, had resigned herself to a dual reality that was at once against everything she believed… and the only explanation there was.

Balz had an absurd impulse to reach out and touch her in some way, give her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, brush her face with his fingertips.

“I’m sorry,” he said as he kept his hands to himself.

“Please… please, don’t erase me again.” When her voice cracked, she cleared her throat—and God, those eyes of hers were cutting right into his soul. “All I have in this world is my mind and you’re ruining it.”

“Not by choice.” Shit, he couldn’t bear this. “Erika… I won’t let you get in the middle of all this.”

No, he was just going to bring Devina right to her front door, if he didn’t leave right now. Jesus, the demon had been in her dream already…

Balz took a step back. And another one. “You can’t remember me. It puts you in danger.”

“No, please—”

He hated the vacant look on her face as he went into her mind and started editing himself out of her. Again.

She was right. He was doing damage, and though he had harmed many, many things in the course of his life of fighting, hurting her was wrecking him.

But what choice did he have. She had to stay far away from him, both in her mind and physically, while he got Devina out of himself.

And then killed that fucking demon.

Funny, he had been pissed when it had just been about him. Pulling this woman into it? Devina had made a big fucking mistake.

He was incandescent with rage—and if history had proven anything, he was a very, very bad enemy to have.

“I won’t see you again, Erika,” he said softly. “And even though you won’t remember me… I will never forget you.”





CHAPTER TWELVE




Late the following afternoon, as the light started to fade quick thanks to some heavy cloud cover, Erika got in her unmarked and headed for the exit of the CPD headquarters parking lot. After she swiped her card at the kiosk and the gate lifted, she was careful to check both ways before pulling into traffic, and when she hit the gas, she didn’t hit that pedal very hard at all.

As she negotiated her way into the stream of traffic, she could remember reading a study that had assessed the reaction times of tired drivers. The conclusion was that those who were drowsy were just as impaired and dangerous as drunks or those under the influence. It made sense and so she was super careful, all ten-and-two’ing the wheel while she peered over the dash like a little old lady, the other vehicles around her a dodgeball game she just wanted to survive.

It had been yet another really, really long night.

God, Connie.

While Kip had processed the suicide down by the river, Erika had handled the sad scene at that walk-up on Market—

Her perennial headache, which had mercifully backgrounded itself for the afternoon, took a sharp step forward, like a security guard getting ready to deal with a trespasser. Jesus, it was like any time she thought about walking into Connie’s, the thing came back—

“Damn it.”

The pain across her frontal lobe rocketed to abscessed-tooth levels, and she had to pull out of any thoughts involving her arrival at that apartment. But it was strange. If she remembered anything after she got there, the headache went away: She could dwell all she liked on calling in the body, taking preliminary photographs with her phone, and waiting for the crime scene processing unit to get there. And then leaving the scene was okay, too: Going back down to the bridge, meeting with Kip for an update on that case, staying there until ten in the morning… none of that made her head pound.