Visions In Death

CHAPTER 5

Since all Eve wanted was a few hours of oblivion, Mira's advice wasn't hard to take. She pulled through the gates of home.

Summer still reigned here, with perfect summer flowers in deep summer colors, with shimmering green grass that seemed to stretch for miles, and the tall leafy trees that spread cool shade.

The house with its towers and peaks and graceful terraces lorded over them: part castle, part fortress, all home.

The best part of it was there was a bed inside, with her name on it.

She left the car at the front steps, and realizing she'd neglected to call Requisitions and bitch, she gave the door an irritated boot when she got out. Then she forgot it and dragged up the steps and into the house.

He was lurking. Summerset was the universal champion of lurk. He stood in the foyer, bony in black, his snooty nose in the air and the fat cat at his feet. In Eve's opinion, Roarke's majordomo never missed the chance to give her the needle.

"You're earlier than expected, and appear to have gotten through the day without destroying any article of clothing.

I must note this event down on my calendar." "Bitch when I'm late, bitch when I'm early. You could go pro on the bitching circuit."

"Your current offensive mode of transportation has not been properly garaged." "Your current offensive face hasn't yet been beaten to a pulp by my fists either. Mark that on your calendar, Creepshow." He had a couple more in his pocket, but decided to save them since there were circles of exhaustion under her eyes, and she was already heading up the steps. Hopefully to bed.

He glanced down at the cat.

"That should do for the moment." He wagged a finger toward the stairs, and Galahad trotted up them.

She thought about going to her office first, putting her notes and thoughts into a report, maybe checking in with the lab, ru

But her feet took her straight to the bedroom where the cat streaked in just behind her. He bolted up the stairs of the platform, took a ru

And sat, dual-colored eyes narrowed on Eve's face.

"Yeah, good idea. I'm right behind you." She stripped off her jacket, tossed it on the sofa in the sitting area, peeled off her weapon harness, and dumped it on the jacket. Then she sat on the arm, pried off her boots, and decided that was good enough.

She didn't leap on the bed; it was more of a crawl.

Stretching out on her stomach, ignoring the cat who slithered onto her butt and circled twice before settling, she ordered herself not to think. And dropped into sleep like a stone down a well.

She felt the dream coming. Felt it oozing out of her system like blood from a wound. In sleep she twitched, and her hands balled into fists. But she couldn't fight it off, and it took her.

Took her back.

It wasn't the room in Dallas, the place she feared most. It was dark, without the wash of dingy red light, without the icy air. Instead there were shadows, and a clammy kind of heat, the heavy smell of flowers going to rot.

She could hear voices, but couldn't make out the words.

She heard weeping, but couldn't locate the source. It seemed like a maze, sharp corners, dead ends, a hundred doors all closed and locked.

She couldn't find her way out, or in. Her heart was thundering in her chest. She knew there was something else in the dark, something close behind her, something horrible waiting to strike.

She should turn and fight. It was always better to stand and fight, to face down what came after you and beat it back.

But she was afraid, so afraid, and ran instead.

It laughed, low.

Her hand shook when she reached for her weapon, shook so hard she could barely draw it. She would kill it, if it touched her, she would kill it.

But she kept ru

Something stepped out of the shadows, and on a breathy scream she stumbled back and fell to her knees. Sobs clogged her throat as she brought her weapon up, sweaty finger poised to fire.

And saw it was a child.

He broke my arm. The little girl, Abra, held her arm close to her body. My daddy broke my arm. Why did you let him hurt me? "I didn't. It wasn't me. I didn't know." "It hurts.

"I know. I'm sorry." You're supposed to make it stop.

More shadows moved, circling her, taking form. She saw where she was now. In the room in the house called Hope, the room full of bruised and battered women, of sad-eyed, broken children.

They stared at her, and their voices filled her head.

He cut me.

He raped me.

He burned me.

Look, look at my face. I used to be pretty.

Where were you when he threw me down the stairs? Why didn't you come when I was screaming? "I can't. I can't." Elisa Maplewood, blind and bloody, stepped closer. He took my eyes. Why didn't you help me? "I am. I will." It's too late. He's already here.

Alarms rang, lights flashed. The women, the children stepped back, stood like a jury at sentencing. The little girl called Abra shook her head. You "re supposed to protect us.

But you can't.

He strolled in, the big, terrifying smile on his face, the vile and vicious gleam in his eyes. Her father.

Take a look at them, little girl. Plenty of them, and there's always more. Bitches just beg for it, so what's a man to do? "Stay away from me." On her knees, she lifted the weapon again. But her hands shook. Everything shook. "Stay away from them." That's no way to talk to your father, little girl. He swung out, smashing her face with the back of his hand in a blow that sent her sprawling onto her back.

The women began to hum like bees trapped in a hive.

Gotta teach you a lesson, don't I? You never learn.

"I'll kill you. I killed you before." Did you? He gri

"Stay back. Stay away." When she lifted her weapon, it was only a small knife held in a child's trembling hand. "No.

No. Please, no!" She tried to crawl away, away from him, away from the women. He reached down, as casually as a man might reach for an apple in a bowl. And snapped her arm.

She screamed, a child's terrified and baffled scream, as the white-hot pain flashed and burned.

There's always more of them. There's always more of us.

And he fell on her.

Eve. Wake up. You wake up now." Her face was bone white, and her body had gone rigid when he'd rolled her over to gather her in. An instant before she'd screamed.

An icy tongue of panic licked up Roarke's spine. Her eyes were wide open, blind with shock and pain. He wasn't completely sure she was breathing. "I said wake up!" Her body arched, and she sucked in air like a drowning woman. "My arm! He broke my arm, he broke my arm." "No. It's a dream. Oh, baby, it's a dream. Come back now." He trembled as much as she did as he rocked her. Catching a movement, he snapped his head up as Summerset rushed in. "No. I've got her." "Is she injured?" He shook his head, stroked her hair as she wept against him. "Nightmare. A bad one. I'll take care of her." Summerset stepped back, then stopped at the door. "Get a soother in her, whatever it takes." Nodding, Roarke waited until Summerset went out, shut the door behind him. "You're all right now. I'm right here." "They were all there, all around me in the dark."

"It's not dark now. I've got the lights on. Do you want them brighter?" She shook her head, burrowed into him. "I didn't help them. I didn't stop him when he came in. Like he always comes in. Her arm was broken, the little girl's arm was broken, just like mine. And he broke mine again. I felt it." "He didn't." Roarke kissed the top of her head, eased her back even when she tried to cling. "Look here now. Eve, look here. Your arm's fine. You see?" Though she tried to cradle it against her body, he drew it out, ran his hand gently from wrist to shoulder. "It's not broken. It was a dream." "It was so real. I felt…" She bent her arm at the elbow, stared at it. Echoes of that phantom pain still rolled through her. "I felt it." "I know." Hadn't he heard her scream? Hadn't he seen the glassy shock in her eyes? He kissed her hand, her wrist, her elbow. "I know. Lie back down now." "I'm okay." Would be. "I just need to sit here a minute." She looked down as the cat wormed his way between them.