Blood Drive (Anna Strong Chronicles #2)

Blood Drive (Anna Strong Chronicles #2) Page 35

My life has been reduced to a string of deadlines, the latest imposed by my own mother. The fact that she didn't ask about whether or not I started the DNA testing attests to how angry she is with me.

It's a little after six, and foot traffic is picking up on Mission. From my parking space, I watch people drift into the Mission Cafe, mostly couples holding hands and smiling at each other in quiet contentment. Loneliness settles around me like the shadows from the dying sun. I've never had a typical boy-girl relationship. When I was younger, I never wanted one. And being around David and Gloria and seeing how crazy they make each other confirms that I certainly don't need that kind of aggravation now. My motto has always been when you have the itch, find a guy and scratch it. Max fills the bill. He drops in, we fuck like bunnies for a day or two, and he's gone.

Perfect for both of us.

Or so I thought.

When did Max start wanting more? What did I miss?

The blare of a horn snaps me back. I glance over my shoulder and a guy in a FedEx van holds up two hands in a "what gives?" pantomime. I'd forgotten that I'd pulled into a loading zone.

Good timing, I say to myself, steering away from the curb. These are not thoughts I need to be having.

Time to weigh my options. I could go back to the apartment and call it a night. God knows I'm weary enough. Or I could go to a bar for a beer. But that would mean getting hit on, or worse, not getting hit on. I couldn't handle it either way.

That leaves only one other choice. I hang a U and head for the office. I'll check telephone messages and mail and pretend I still have a day job. If I'm lucky, there'll be beer in the fridge and I can sit on the little deck outside our office and watch the sunset. If I try hard, I might be able to remember how it was when all I had to contend with were human concerns.

David's Hummer is not parked in his designated space. I didn't expect that it would be at six thirty, and yet I feel a pinprick of disappointment. I can't believe it's only been a couple of days since I've seen him. It feels much longer than that.

I lock the Ford and pocket the keys, slinging my purse over my shoulder. At the horizon, low clouds hover just over the water. There are a lot of people on the boardwalk, normal, human, strolling south toward Seaport Village, the lilt of music and the rich smell of grilling fish and barbecue drawing them as powerfully as the promise of a spectacular sunset.

For an instant, I'm tempted to join them, to lose myself in the crowd and pretend I'm one of them. But only for an instant. I'm not one of them and it's no use to pretend. I heave a sigh and head for the door.

I have the key out and ready. Since our office is located on the water side, I make my way around to the back, steps muffled by rubber soles on the wooden deck. As I round the corner, an electric jolt of warning brings me to an abrupt stop. The door to our office yawns open.

The hackles at the back of my neck stand straight up and I'm instantly alert. The vampire swallows up the human side of my nature in one gulp. With a low growl, I give the door a gentle push and let it swing open.

There are no lights on inside. In the half twilight, I see a solitary figure standing at the slider on the far side of the office. His back to me, he seems lost in the play of light on water. The glare from the sun on the window blurs his image. Soundlessly, I approach, mind probing gently to determine who or what he is. I get no response.

Human? The vampire side of my nature draws back a little. I can easily overpower a human without resorting to fangs. I cast no reflection in the window so I'm at his side before his quiet voice breaks the silence.

"Hello, Anna. I've been waiting for you."

"Frey?" I grit my teeth and scowl at him. "Are you crazy? I almost - "

"What? Bit me? Been there, done that."

He turns to look at me and starts to laugh. "You look like Malibu Barbie."

I snatch off the glasses and hat with one hand and peel off the wig with the other. "What are you doing here?"

He has a can of beer in his right hand and he waves it at the window. "Enjoying the view. You must do very well to be able to afford an office here."

"We get a break on the rent."

He raises an eyebrow. "Boyfriend?"

"No. Father. Any other questions?"

He takes a last swig from the can and tosses it into the wastebasket beside the desk. "No."

I let my shoulders slump and try to ease the knots out of the muscles in my neck. Adrenaline pumps with unrelenting force through my veins. "Why didn't you say something? You must have known I was here. You know, with this - " I lay a finger along side my nose.

He smiles. "It was more fun to see what you'd do."

"How did you get in?"

"Your partner. He was just leaving when I arrived."

"And he said you could wait? Alone in our office?" It didn't sound like David.

Frey shrugs. "I told him you were meeting me. That you were supposed to have left him a message. He seemed irritated but not surprised that you hadn't. Mumbled something like, it figures, and left."

Great. Something else to explain to my partner. If I have one. I drop into the chair on my side of the desk. "How is Trish? I thought you'd be staying close to her tonight."

He lowers himself into David's chair. "She's got Sorrel to look after her."

"So, you haven't answered my question. What are you doing here?"

Frey leans back and tents his fingers. "Where else would I go? The Feds are watching my place. Probably yours, too. I took a chance they wouldn't be watching the office. At least not tonight."

I nod that I, too, suspect he's right. "I hope you've arranged a substitute for school tomorrow. Mom is up in arms about everything that's happened. She's already had a visit from the Feds."

"No surprise there. Those jackals leave no stone unturned."

He has a peculiar inflection in his voice. In the gathering dusk, his eyes glow. He turns those eyes on me and a shiver runs up my spine.

"What's going on, Frey? You look - weird."

He holds a hand up and turns the palm back to front. "I thought you might want company. Did you know that there is a full moon tonight?"

I give my head a shake. "No. Am I supposed to?"

"I suppose not. The moon doesn't affect you."

"I thought it didn't affect you, either."

He pushes himself out of the chair and begins pacing in front of the sliding glass door. He seems restless, agitated.

"Frey?"

He stops abruptly and whirls to face me. "Did you find out anything today?"

"Nothing we can use." A video image flashes in my head and I pass a hand over my face to erase it.

"Nothing?" He starts pacing again. "Where did you go after you left the park?"

I'd forgotten that he doesn't know about Ryan and the computer. "Has Trish told you anything about her friend?"

But he doesn't seem to be listening. He's pulling at the neck of his 't-shirt, as if the collar is too tight. Sweat glistens on his face.

"What's wrong with you?" I ask.

He grimaces. "I didn't tell you the entire truth about the moon. The moon, the tides, and the alignment of certain planets, all have an effect on me. I can change anytime I want. But there are certain nights when I don't have a choice. Under normal circumstances, I'd lock myself inside my condo and ride it out. But these aren't normal circumstances, are they?"

He says it as though it's taking every bit of effort to keep some terrible primal urge in check. Maybe it is. I'm glad I'm no longer privy to his thoughts.

"You're creeping me out," I say. "Should I leave you alone? I could lock you in."

He jabs a thumb toward the slider. "Except for that."

"Yeah, but that leads to a deck over the water. Panthers can't swim, can they?"

"I can swim," he says.

Good point.

"Is there anything I can do?"

His answer is to resume pacing. The shadow of night has swallowed up any remaining daylight, and the office is plunged into darkness. Though I can see as well in the dark as I can in the light, the idea of being alone with him like this is unsettling. I reach to turn on a desk lamp.

I'm stopped by a low growl.

"Don't."

The voice doesn't sound like Frey's. I pull my hand back and peer at him. He's standing upright, but his face is changing. The features blunt, the nose flattens, and the ears elongate and shift to the top of his head. His eyes become sullen yellow orbs, the pupils split into onyx diamonds that flash silver with the movement of his head.

Those eyes watch me now with an intensity that sends fear skittering along my spine.

When he opens his mouth to speak again, it's with a guttural hiss. "I'm sorry. I didn't know where else to go."

"Why didn't you stay at that place in the park?"

"I couldn't trust myself. There are humans who work there who have never seen a transformation. I didn't want to scare them. And Trish is there. She's been insulated from the true nature of that place, but if she should see me like this - "

Frey is moving his head in little circles, as if working kinks out of his neck and shoulders. He rips at his 't-shirt with hands that are morphing into claws. The fabric shreds and drops away.

"I won't be able to talk much longer," he says. The tips of needle sharp teeth protrude from blackened gums. He's crouching now, clumsily pulling at his slacks until he's worked them off. His legs are covered with a fine mat of dark hair.

I watch, transfixed at a sight the best Hollywood special effects man couldn't duplicate. The panther is emerging from the shell of Frey's human form, a perfect cat face, silky fur about two or three inches long and black as the night outside our window. Only it's not quite a complete transformation. Frey is standing upright, and his eyes retain a spark of intelligence beyond that of an animal. The only sounds he's making are rumbling growls that seem to come from the center of his chest. And he's watching me. I feel like a rat in a cobra cage. One sudden move and he'll pounce.

He's moving around the desk, upright, but with a fluid grace. A quick and disturbing thought sends my pulse into race mode. I don't know what shapeshifters do when they take on their animal characteristics. Do I look like dinner to Frey?

I push back from the desk but remain seated, ready to defend myself. Great. A fight to the death with a panther. The perfect end to the perfect day. Frey comes closer, his gums curling back as he continues to emit those deep, rasping snarls. I'm prepared to jump to my feet, to fight him with every ounce of strength and cunning I have at my disposable. One animal against another. I know I'm strong enough to beat him. I just have to stay out of reach of those claws. Get behind him and -

Frey has dropped to all fours. His head is even with mine as we continue to watch each other. I plant my feet, draw strength, and center my thoughts.

"Come on kitty," I whisper. "Make your move."

There's a flicker of recognition in those almond eyes. And I swear, he's smiling. He lowers his head and pushes it against my chest. The sounds from his throat are louder now, but the timbre is different.

He pushes again against my chest and gently nuzzles my hand.

I stare at him in disbelief.

The purr is almost deafening.

I lay a hand on his head. "Jesus, Frey," I mumble. "Am I ever going to get used to this crap?"