The tiled room had three stalls, all presently empty, she noted with relief. It also had a counter with two sinks in it and a mirror over the sinks. Mary immediately moved to the sink and turned the cold tap on, then automatically glanced up and blinked in surprise at the young woman peering out of the mirror at her. She stared at her reflection for a moment, and then shook her head. Her reflection did the same and Mary lowered her head, wondering how long it would take for her to get used to this new her.
Probably about as long as she would be projecting her thoughts to everyone, Mary thought grimly, and cupped her hands to catch some of the cold water splashing out of the tap. She then splashed it on her face.
It was a bit alarming to think that every little thought she had was being broadcast to any and every immortal around her. But it was positively humiliating to think that every time she glanced at Dante and thought about . . . well, anything, someone would be picking up on it.
Sighing, Mary turned off the tap and straightened to look at herself again, ignoring the water that slid from her face to run down her neck in rivulets before it was absorbed into the collar of her T-shirt.
“You can do this,” she told herself solemnly. “You may look like Barbie, as Francis put it, but you are a beautiful, intelligent and mature woman. We are all grown-ups. They’ve been through this themselves and obviously been around others who went through this. Stop acting like a shrinking virgin and deal . . . and maybe try not to think so much about Dante naked,” Mary tacked on with a grimace, and then added, “And sex with Dante.”
Yeah, that would work, she thought dryly, and turned the tap back on. Just saying the words had brought a tsunami of memories and images to her mind. Every one of them X rated. Mary splashed her face twice this time, then stayed bent over the sink and reached out to grab paper towels from the paper towel dispenser. Her top was already a mess with a hole in the side and a couple stains that laundering hadn’t removed. She didn’t need to add to its disheveled state, so she quickly dried her face before straightening this time.
“Think of something else,” Mary instructed herself firmly. “That article, the ‘Profile of Cognitive Aging,’ that you read last week, was interesting. Think of that.”
Mary paused for a minute and focused on the article she’d read in one of the medical journals she still got. Once she was satisfied that her thoughts were purely boring and safe and miles away from anything to do with sex or Dante, she nodded to her reflection and turned to leave the bathroom.
There was a man in the hall when she stepped into it. He was leaning against the wall outside the men’s room. She automatically offered a polite smile as moved toward him, but then paused as he raised his hand and she heard a sharp hiss-thump sound and felt something punch her in the chest. Glancing down with confusion, she stared at the red tipped dart protruding from her shirt just above her breast. Instinct made her reach for it, but before her hand could connect, she noticed that the floor was leaping up to meet her.
Mary had barely left the table when Francis pulled a notepad out of his pocket and began writing down items.
Dante immediately leaned toward him and began to read the list aloud, “Toothbrush, men’s and women’s razors, panties?” Pausing, he straightened and asked, “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I am doing?” Francis asked dryly. “I am making a shopping list.”
“Oh,” Dante murmured, and asked, “For Mary and me?”
“For Mary and I,” he corrected. “You said you did not want help shopping.”
“Why do you have a man’s razor on there then?” Dante asked. “I saw your shaving kit in the bathroom.”
“Mary thought it was yours and used the razor,” he explained. “And then she broke it to slice up her T-shirt. She also used my toothbrush thinking it was yours.”
“Oh. Sorry,” he muttered.
Francis shrugged. “It is fine. I am not afraid of getting cooties or anything. I just thought it would be nice to get her a toothbrush of her own, as well as her own razors and such.” He paused briefly and then began to write again, muttering, “A hairbrush too.”
“Dante,” Russell said, drawing his attention away from the dark-haired man busily scrawling on his notepad. Once he had Dante’s attention, he suggested, “Now that the worry of Mary’s turn is out of the way, perhaps we should discuss ways we can set up another trap for the kidnappers.”
Dante nodded slowly, and then frowned and added, “If they are still around and have not given up.”
“They are still around,” Russell assured him.
Dante stiffened at this news and glanced worriedly toward the hall Mary had disappeared down.
“Relax. I kept an eye out for them when we left the hotel for here, and there was no sign of them. However, there was a dark van following Francis and me when we went to the furniture store and back. They left when the delivery truck pulled up, but I suspect they will pop up again, and we have to decide how to deal with them.”
“Yes,” Dante agreed, but glanced toward the hall to the bathrooms again and muttered, “Mary is taking a long time.”
Francis glanced up from his list at that comment and said, “Relax. I am sure she is fine. She was just embarrassed and wanted some time alone to compose herself.”