Otherworldly Bad Boys: Three Complete Novels Page 10

  “Good luck with that,” said Yvonne. “I sure can’t figure it out. I’ve been friends with Beverly since we were freshmen in high school. We both went to Webster High just a few miles from here. This is completely unlike her.”

  “Did she enjoy being a werewolf?” asked Avery. “The girls said that she hoped they’d be infected.”

  Yvonne sighed. “Oh, that stuff only started about seven months ago. She started to get distant, to pull away from everyone. She began to say that no one understood her, because we weren’t wolves like she was. She said that she hoped her daughters were, so that they wouldn’t be hopeless cases like the rest of us.”

  “Really,” said Dana. That was odd.

  “Karl was worried. He talked to me about it, because he hoped I could get to the bottom of what was going on. But she wasn’t interested in talking to me either. I didn’t get it, because I wasn’t a wolf.” She shook her head. “She’d never been that way before. Even right after she got the virus, she and I were close. She only wanted to pretend it had never happened back then. I have no idea why she wanted to embrace that part of herself all of the sudden.”

  “You’re saying there was a change in behavior before the incident, then?” said Avery.

  Yvonne nodded slowly. “Yeah. I guess if you wanted to make sense of it, maybe she did it because she liked being a werewolf so much that she just wanted to let it out. Hell, if I know.”

  * * *

  “But it’s not concrete,” said Dana, from the driver’s seat.

  “It’s enough for King,” said Avery. He’d just gotten off the phone with Ursula back in headquarters. The two were driving back to the hotel. “She thinks that it makes sense that Beverly might have snapped. Like Yvonne said. She liked being a werewolf.”

  “And that’s enough to lock her up?”

  “According to King, it is,” said Avery.

  Dana sighed. “Well, I guess that’s it then. She wants us back tonight, I suppose. I can handle the checkout from our rooms.” She wasn’t going to be able to talk to Hollis tonight after all. She was a little bit relieved.

  “Actually, she said it makes the most sense for us to stay one more night,” said Avery. “She says we should try to talk to Arnold Phelp’s sister tomorrow. If we drive back to headquarters tonight, and then get up tomorrow and drive all the way out there, that’s way more traveling than just swinging by to see her on our way back. And the sister’s busy today, so tomorrow’s better.”

  “So, another night in the hotel, then,” said Dana. “Sorry. I know you hate hotels.”

  “I’ll manage. I’m just glad we got this squared away.”

  Dana didn’t say anything.

  “You’re annoyed because what Randall said didn’t pan out, aren’t you? There was no evidence that she was somehow forced into what she did.”

  “Annoyed isn’t exactly the word,” said Dana. “But I have to admit I’m confused. I really thought he was trying to tell me that something had happened to make both of them go nuts at the same time.”

  “He was yanking your chain, Gray.”

  “I guess so,” she said. “That’ll teach me to trust anything a serial killer says.”

  “You wanted to trust him.”

  She bit her lip. “Not exactly.” She sighed. “I wanted to see him again. I wanted to have a reason to see him again. How fucked up is that?”

  Avery considered. “Pretty fucked up. But you know it’s fucked up. And I meant what I said. I’m here for you. Between the two of us, you’ll get through this.”

  She gave him a grateful smile. She had to admit it was good to have Avery on her side again. And it was good to have someone she could talk to about it besides Chantal.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Well, he tried to kill me, but then he decided he couldn’t, so he chained me up in his basement until he could make a decision. He tried to kill me again one more time, but he couldn’t do that either. Eventually, I got away. There’s not much to the story.” Dana perched on a chair in Hollis’ hotel room.

  He was sitting on the bed, leaning up against the headboard, his recorder in his hand. “That’s the story everyone knows. It answers all the basic whos, whats, and wheres. But it doesn’t answer any of the whys.”

  “I don’t know the whys,” said Dana. Maybe she could get this over with pretty quickly. Then she wouldn’t have to deal with Hollis anymore. She still found him charming, even attractive, but she didn’t want her life entangled with his again. Too complicated.

  “See, that’s where you’re holding out on everyone. I had to do a ton of digging to find this, because you were both minors, and the news stories didn’t print your names. But you and Cole Randall are the teen survivors of the Brockway Massacre. I can’t believe you never told me that.”

  Dana sighed. “Is it important?”

  “Is it a big secret?”

  She shook her head. “Not really. I’ve known him a long time. I was in his apartment because I thought he was likely a victim of the serial killer. Cole and I fit the killer’s profile.”

  “The profile, right,” said Hollis. “He only killed werewolves.”

  “Rehabilitated werewolves,” said Dana. “Ones who’d never killed. Ones who were bitten and then taken into custody by the SF before they’d shifted for the first time.” She paused.

  That was funny. Beverly Martin fit that profile.

  “And there were always two of them,” he said.

  Well, Beverly didn’t fit exactly. She wasn’t part of a survival pair. “Yes,” she said. “They were always two people who survived together. Like Cole and I had. I thought we fit the profile. I didn’t realize that we were the model of the profile. He was killing people who were like the two of us.”

  Hollis set down the recorder. “So, in his mind, it was like he was killing you over and over again.”

  She nodded. “Working up to the real thing. But when he actually got me, he... choked.”

  “That’s really intriguing, Dana. Why couldn’t he kill you?”

  “You’ll have to ask him,” she said.

  “What do you think he’ll say?”

  “I don’t know if he’ll even talk to you,” she said.

  “I think he might,” said Hollis.

  “There have been other reporters who’ve tried. He’s turned them down.”

  “Yeah, but I’m your ex-boyfriend,” said Hollis. “And it doesn’t take a genius to see that you’re important to him.”

  He was probably right. Jesus. What would Cole say to this man? Would he tell him everything? Dana felt a little nervous. “You know, he might make things up. I hope that you wouldn’t take his word over mine.”

  Hollis leaned forward. “Make things up, or tell me the actual truth? What are you hiding, Dana?”

  “Nothing,” she said. Fuck Hollis. Why did he have to dig so deeply into everything?

  He settled back. “Okay, fine. Let’s start at the beginning. Did you know Cole Randall in high school before the massacre?”

  “I knew him by sight. We barely ever spoke,” she said. “We traveled in different circles.”

  “So, why do you think he saved you? I read the articles, and he was the one who knew about the door in the locker room. He brought you with him. His sister was inside too, but he chose to save you. Why do you think he did that?”

  “I don’t know,” said Dana. “I think we just happened to be on the same side of the gym. And his sister was dead by then. He knew it.”

  “How?”

  “He saw. The wolves were ripping people apart. Everyone was screaming, but no one outside the gym thought anything of it. They thought it was just cheering. A basketball game was supposed to be going on. The wolves had enough time to kill everyone.”

  “Except the two of you.”

  “Right. And we were just lucky enough to get away. It was so chaotic that we managed to slip out.”

  “So, you think he would have saved anyone. He only took you because yo
u were close?” said Hollis.

  Dana had never really thought about it before. “I don’t know. I guess so.”

  “A chance connection, then,” said Hollis. “But it obviously became very significant to him. He saved your life and then, ten years later, tried to kill you.”

  “But then he didn’t kill me,” she said.

  Hollis laughed. “It’s a little ironic.”

  “It’s my life,” she said. “It doesn’t feel ironic to me. Just kind of... horrible.”

  “Sorry,” said Hollis. “I didn’t mean to imply that I wasn’t taking this seriously. You have been through a lot.”

  “It’s okay,” she said. “Do you have a lot more questions?”

  “Are you kidding? We’re barely getting started,” said Hollis. “So, when Randall had you chained up in the basement, he didn’t give you any indication why he was sparing your life?”

  “He said he wasn’t ready for me yet,” she said. “I think he was using the other kills as a warm-up. When I realized he could be a victim, I took him by surprise. He couldn’t let me take him into protective custody. That would have kept him from being able to kill. So, he tried to kill me then. But he said I was meant to be the finale, and that he wasn’t ready for me.”

  Hollis raised his eyebrows. “The finale? He planned to kill you and then stop?”

  “Not exactly. Killing me would end the first phase. Then the next phase would begin. He wasn’t entirely clear on what that phase would be.”

  Hollis whistled under his breath. “He really had this planned out.”

  She shrugged. “He’s arrogant. From what I understand that’s typical of serial killers.”

  “So that was it? Just that he wasn’t ready. He didn’t give you any other impressions?”

  “What are you digging for here, Hollis?”

  He smiled. “Who says I’m digging?”

  “You’re always digging. You have some kind of theory, and you’re trying to get me to fall into it, whether it’s the truth or not.”

  “Now that wouldn’t be very journalistic of me, would it? Creating the story instead of uncovering it? That would make me a very bad reporter. And I’m not a bad reporter. I am trying to get to the truth.”

  “Well, that’s the truth. He wasn’t ready.”

  “Okay,” said Hollis. “Look, maybe I’m asking the wrong question, anyway. Maybe I don’t want to know why he didn’t kill you. Maybe I want to know why he wanted to kill you in the first place.”

  Dana took a deep breath. “Well, he was crazy, Hollis.”

  “Right. Of course he was. So, he never talked to you about that either?”

  “No, he talked to me about it,” said Dana. “Not that it made much sense.”

  * * *

  Six months ago, Dana winced each time the needle went into her skin. Cole was sitting on a stool in front of her, stitching up the gash he’d ripped into her belly. He’d wrapped two blankets around her—one on the top, one below her waist. Both were secured tightly around her body so they wouldn’t slip again.

  “You’re always screwing things up, Dana.”

  She didn’t respond. Since he’d hurt her, she was more frightened of him than she had been before. And she was less hopeful, too. She didn’t see a way to get away from him. He hadn’t killed her. Yet. But he clearly meant to. She didn’t know how long she could hold him off. Or what he’d do to her in the meantime.

  “I don’t know what it is about you that makes it impossible to stick to my plans. Good plans. Plans I’ve been working on for a very long time. And then you show up, and I can’t do anything right.”

  He jabbed her with the needle. She could feel the thread pulling through. It hurt.

  Cole looked up at her. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

  She cleared her throat. “It’s not too late to let me go.”

  He laughed darkly. “I’m not going to let you go. Things have gone too far for that. I can’t keep you here, and I can’t kill you. And why? Because you give me a raging hard on?” He glared at her. “I hate you.”

  She bit her lip.

  He concentrated on her wound, yanking the thread tight. “No, I suppose it’s not your fault. Not really. You didn’t ask to be kept alive down here. If I’d done my job right in the first place, we wouldn’t be in this situation.” He shook his head. “I take it back. I don’t hate you. I only hate myself.”

  He sounded crazier and crazier by the minute. She was terrified of him. She couldn’t believe that she’d been attracted to him. Ever. Not least when he was fondling her down here. Something was wrong with her. Well. Something had been wrong with her. It was over now. Now that he’d shown his true colors.

  “Maybe if I just had you, just once, maybe that would make it better.”

  Her stomach turned over. It was going to happen. He was going to rape her, and then he was going to kill her, and it was all going to be over.

  “Except I can’t stand the smell of fear that’s pouring off of you right now.” He tied a knot in the thread and cut it. The stitches he’d left behind were sloppy, but her skin wasn’t gaping open anymore. He put some gauze over the area and secured it with some tape.

  Relief washed over her. She was grateful to him. Grateful that he wouldn’t take her against her will. There was something very screwed up about that, and she knew it. She didn’t have a single good reason to actually be grateful to him.

  “I wonder if I could change that,” he mused. He pushed aside the blanket around her legs, and his hand snaked inside, his fingers brushing her inner thigh.

  She squirmed away from him, panic splintering through her again. She wasn’t safe after all.

  “Hold still,” he muttered, securing her in place with his other hand. The fingers inside the blanket stroked the sensitive flesh inside her leg, dancing their way up higher.

  And her body responded again, to her disgust. It felt good. He seemed to know just how to caress her. Something inside her gave a languid stretch. It wanted him to keep touching her. It urged his fingers upward. But no. Dana hated it. She wasn’t actually divided—her sex drive and her mind. She was in control. “Don’t,” she managed.

  He dropped his hands, moving the blanket back in place. He got up off the stool and kicked it over. “Damn it.”

  And relief poured through her again.

  Cole began to pace. “No, it will have to be the way I planned it before. My wolf against yours. You’ll shift, I’ll shift. We’ll fight. Best wolf wins.”

  The relief was short-lived. Letting the wolf out was her idea of a nightmare. Thinking of completely shifting made her feel everything that terrified her. Lack of control. Loss of herself. And if Cole killed her while she was in wolf form, she’d never even know it. She would sink into the blackness of the wolf and never come back. “I won’t shift,” she said.

  Cole stopped moving. “What?”

  She lifted her chin. She had a little bit of defiance left in her. “I won’t shift. I hate that. I never want to be a full wolf again.”

  Cole chuckled. “You know what, Dana? That is exactly your problem. You never got it.”

  “I don’t think I’m the one here with problems.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Touché. I haven’t been my best recently, I’ll give you that.” He stroked his jaw. “But regardless, hating the wolf is your problem. It’s not your fault, not exactly. You believed all the shit the Sullivan Foundation crammed down your throat. All that divisive crap, that the wolf was separate from you, not part of you.”

  “It is separate,” said Dana. “I’m not an animal.”

  “We’re all animals,” said Cole. “Even humans.”

  She shook her head. “Not in the same way. Humans can reason. They can feel. When the wolf takes over, all of that is gone.”

  Cole took off his glasses and began to clean them on his shirt. “You’re like a walking, talking SF propaganda pamphlet.”

  “We don’t have pamphlets.” She w
as starting to get angry. She liked it. Anger was stronger than fear, and she had been drowning in fear for what seemed like a very long time.

  He put his glasses back on. “Why do you suppose we became werewolves, Dana?”

  What kind of question was that? “We got bitten. We caught the virus.”

  “Right,” he said. “It’s a virus. At least that’s what they call it. Mostly they call it that because there’s no cure, don’t you think? It doesn’t really behave like a virus, does it?”

  She didn’t know. She hadn’t spent a lot of time studying that aspect of being a werewolf.

  “But virus is such a nasty word,” said Cole. “It’s the first step in making people think that they’re sick. That they need treatment. That what’s happened to them is a horrible, terrible thing.”

  “It is,” she said. “And it’s good to think of it as sickness. It’s better than being a monster.”

  “Monster,” said Cole. “There’s another nasty word. With everything that you’ve heard about how bad it is to be a werewolf, no wonder you hate it.”

  “Werewolves kill people,” she said. “Werewolves killed your sister.”

  “Yes,” said Cole. “That’s true.”

  “So anything we can do to stop the killing, we should do.”

  Cole laughed. “People get killed every day, Dana. Whether there are werewolves or not.”

  “But we try to stop that,” said Dana. “That’s what people do. We cure diseases and make cars safer and put child-proof additions on lighters. We try to keep ourselves from getting killed.”

  “Do we?” he said. “We make hand guns and bombs, and we start wars too, don’t we?”

  “That’s different.”

  “It’s not. We’re animals, Dana. Sometimes animals kill.”

  “Well, I don’t want to kill,” she said. “I should be able to control that.”

  “Should you? If it’s your nature to kill, should you be able to stop yourself from doing it?”

  “It’s not my nature to kill.”

  He laughed again. “Do you know anything about fire climax pine cones?”

  “No.” What did that have to do with what they were talking about? She kept forgetting that Cole was totally insane.