“Don’t be sorry,” she said, “just hunt with me.”
His hands looked useless from the way he held them. “I want to help, but I’m still not sure what you’re asking me to do. I need you to tell me everything. I won’t go out there unarmed with a lack of information.”
Her mind locked up. She wanted to argue that he should tell her everything, too, but it’d be fruitless. She was the one who needed his aid.
There was a gusting whoosh outside, a chop of wind. Matt fixed a glance on the window.
“The more you reveal,” he said, “the better off we’ll be.”
A prickle of unease stole over her. He sounded too demanding.
“Dawn?” he asked.
At that moment, she knew how stupid she was being. Coming here had been a strike against Jonah, a screw-you caused by the shock of Breisi’s death.
Or was she finally in the right place?
She stood, cuffing at the sticky tears, wanting to erase them. She needed to think some more, needed to get away.
“I’ve got to take care of something first.”
“Don’t go.” He seemed eager, rising to stand beside her. “Just talk to me. Don’t allow Limpet to control you. He’s done enough damage. Trust me.”
Eva’s dress floated past her mind’s eye, flowered poison.
She held up her hands, getting it together. “I’ll come back.”
And she would. God help her, being around him was sending off flares of need under her skin; she didn’t know how long she could keep herself off him in this moment of desperation. She wanted to feel life because death had struck her such a blow. She wanted to know that there was still some good around.
But…no. Not with Matt. He was Eva’s. How many times did she have to remind herself of that?
“I’ll call.” She rushed toward his door.
He reached out for her again, but she yanked her arm away, sending him a hurt glare.
It was enough.
He turned around, his broad back to her as she left.
Shaken, she shut the door behind her and took a deep fill of oxygen. What had she almost done?
As the Friends surrounded her on the walk back to her car, her doubts set in again.
Should she have talked to Matt? Or was Jonah really on the right side? There wasn’t anyone to turn to now….
Dawn got into her car, starting it. She had to ask The Voice, once and for all, what the hell was happening.
And if he wouldn’t answer, that’s when she’d know what to do.
I NSIDE Matt Lonigan’s house, the “private investigator” turned away from the window as Dawn’s taillights streamed into the distance, disappearing from view like the extinguishing of red eyes in the night.
Glancing at the back of his hand, he inspected the blood-thick scratches she’d given him during their spat, but even if she’d been angry, he knew she’d be back again. Dawn was caught between the Scylla and Charybdis, and she needed him.
He walked to the bolted door, removing the basketball backboard before unlocking it and opening the entrance. Welcome darkness. The scent of dank comfort. He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him and securing it. While climbing down the stairs, his boot steps echoed against the tunnel walls.
The walk was a long, subterranean stroll. His form tingled, reacting to the nearing proximity of his home, shifting degree by degree. The scratches Dawn had given him healed because he willed them gone. In fact, whenever he was in Matt’s body Above, he could choose to delay any patch-up work, just to seem more human—prone to injury. He could also be seen on film, in mirrors. He could slow vitals on others, too.
Step by step, his shape quivered, the illusion of clothes seeping into his core, his features disappearing into the vaporous blur he preferred most times.
But when he arrived at a holding chamber, he shifted back into the body he’d been doubling Above. On second thought, he wasn’t quite ready for his fun to end yet.
Scratching at the rock, Benedikte—also known as “Matt”—waited for the door to open.
Inside the holding room, the real Matt Lonigan turned away from Tamsin Greene, holding her jeweled fingers in his cupped hand. He was being entertained by the Elite while waiting to switch off with Benedikte and go back Above to do his own Servant work.
“Done already?” Tamsin asked as Matt let go of her.
The Master nodded. “Sounds like there were some snags, but the most important parts were taken care of. Breisi Montoya and the Vampire Killer have been reported dead.”
He gestured for Tamsin to leave, knowing her Underground vows would keep her from spreading news about these activities to the lower vampires.
With one last saucy glance at the human Matt, she pulled her sheer, filmy white peignoir around her and exited.