Living with the Dead Part 25

When she nodded, gaze down, he lifted her chin.

"You know that, don't you?"

Hope had never thought she was in danger of Karl biting her without her permission, as Clay had done to Elena, or that he'd ever find a way to do it "accidentally." But maybe she did worry a little that he'd prefer it. Werewolves weren't like other supernaturals. Like wolves, they preferred the company of their own kind.

"No," he said, as if reading her thoughts, his gaze locked with her, challenging her to read his vibes for any sign that he was lying. When he was satisfied she believed him, he pulled a washcloth off the rack and picked up a bar of soap.

"I'm not going anywhere, Hope," he said as he unwrapped the soap. "Tonight, I was just furious with myself for being too cavalier about the threat Gilchrist posed. Even before today I've downplayed the threat of you being attacked. I didn't want to admit that being with me might not be safe. I was thinking about how to resolve the problem, Hope, not how to run away from it. I need to make sure you understand the threat, and I need to teach you how to deal with it how to fight a werewolf. That's all."

She'd known that. But she'd still flipped out. And the more she flipped out, the more her reaction not his terrified her.

He dipped the cloth into the water, squeezed it, lathered it up and wiped the back of her neck. "You picked up some dirt in the forest."

She bent her head forward, letting him wash. He moved down her back, moving in slow circles, the rough cloth sloughing away the night. Her eyes started to close.

He leaned her back against the tub, setting her head on the edge, then washed her shoulders. "I know I left you once."

She opened her mouth, wanting to say it didn't matter, it was forgotten. But it wasn't.

"I know I hurt you."

Again, she wanted to argue. But she couldn't.

"I know I said I won't leave again, but I also know that's not enough, and that the only way you're going to trust that I won't leave is if I don't."

He slid the cloth over her arms. "If this ends, Hope, it won't be me that ends it. I think you know that."

She twisted in the tub, rising, put her arms around his neck and kissed him. He scooped her up, dripping water, and carried her into the other room.

ROBYN.

Robyn had been standing at the hotel bedroom door for ten minutes, her fingers on the handle as she listened for sounds from the other side.

Last night, she'd been too tired to ask questions and had used that as an excuse to herself for not asking. But, her first thought on waking had been I have to know. I have to know.

She'd showered, dressed, made the bed and was now stalled at the door to the main room, where Hope and Karl were sleeping.

She counted to three. Then to five. Then told herself, on the count of ten, she absolutely would G.o.dd.a.m.n it, just open it!

She knocked. It took a moment before she heard Hope's sleepy "come in." She cracked open the door. Hope was alone on the sofa bed, sitting up, blinking at the empty s.p.a.ce beside her.

Robyn pointed at the closed bathroom door, light s.h.i.+ning under it. "

I think he's in there."

Hope nodded. She looked at Robyn, then her gaze dipped away. Karl came out of the bathroom. Hope murmured something, then slipped in behind him. The door closed.

Robyn looked at that door, wondering what was up with Hope this morning. A rough night, she supposed. After their ordeal, she couldn't blame her.

"Good morning, Robyn," Karl said.

She managed a response. He crossed to the desk and picked up the room service menu. Robyn stayed where she'd stopped, watching him leaf through it.

She thought of what the other man had said Karl was, and even if she couldn't bring herself to form the word, she couldn't stop thinking about it. Couldn't stop hearing his snarl from last night. Couldn't stop seeing the pulsing rage in his face. Couldn't forget the other man's face, pulsing with something else, contorting, changing...

"That fair last night, it didn't have a freak show, did it?" Karl asked, still reading the menu.

"What?"

"Freaks. The Bearded Lady. The Three-legged Man. The Lobster Boy. Pay a dollar to see the freak?"

"Um, no, I didn't see..."

"But you've seen exhibits like that before. Hope says you like fairs, particularly small, out-of-the-way ones where the questionable qualities of a freak show might be more acceptable."

"Sure..."

He glanced up. "Have you ever paid your dollar?"

"No, never. I "

"When you see the signs, though, do you ever consider what it would be like to be the person inside that tent? On display? With everyone staring, satisfying their morbid curiosity, wondering how you live, how awful it would be to be you..."

"I..." She stopped, realizing what he was getting at. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... gawk."

"Personally? I don't care." He set the menu back on the desk. "But Hope does. She's already uncomfortable. Having her friend gaping at her like she's on display..."

Was that why Hope ducked into the bathroom? Robyn didn't think she'd been gaping, but she must have been looking at her differently, thinking, wondering...

"I want to know," Robyn said.

"Hmm." He plucked his jacket from a chair back. "Room service is apparently not one of this hotel's strengths. Tell Hope I went out to find a more suitable breakfast."

She stepped in his path. "I mean it, Karl. I want to know what's going on. Everything."

"We'll discuss it over breakfast. Don't jump on Hope about it the moment she gets out of the bathroom."

"I wouldn't."

His lips parted, but he settled for a nod, a curt good-bye, and was gone.

Hope came out shortly after Karl left. Robyn tried to avoid awkwardness by making small talk, asking about Hope's mother's plans for her big May Day charity ball, which only made it obvious there were a million things she was avoiding avoiding talking about. talking about.

Hope squirmed under those questions as much as if Robyn had gaped at her. She'd promised Karl she wouldn't ask more, but not not asking felt even stranger. It was like sitting with one of those freaks, discussing the most mundane subjects imaginable, pretending you didn't notice you were talking to a woman with a beard. asking felt even stranger. It was like sitting with one of those freaks, discussing the most mundane subjects imaginable, pretending you didn't notice you were talking to a woman with a beard.

"We need to talk about what happened last night," Hope said finally.

"Oh, I No, that's okay. I "

"I mean about the guy who grabbed you, what he said about Adele and Karl."

"Oh, right." Robyn kicked herself for not thinking of this safe-but-pertinent topic. She seized on the diversion and was still explaining when Karl arrived.

He set up breakfast, waving them aside when they stood to help, asking questions when Robyn finished her explanation. Then Hope and Karl exchanged a look, one that Robyn had come to know well and now understood: "We'll discuss it later, when she's not around."

"Did Robyn tell you what she wants?" Karl asked as they dished up breakfast plates.

"I was warned not to bring it up," Robyn said.

Hope followed her look. "Karl..."

He only shrugged, unapologetic, and bit into his croissant.

"I told Karl I want to know," Robyn said.

"Know... ?"

Robyn gave her a look it was like leaning around the proverbial pachyderm in the room to ask, "what elephant?"

"Everything," she said.

Hope and Karl exchanged another look.

"Let's start with what's important right now," Hope said. "This Adele Morrissey..."

"She's psychic."

Hope paused, as if fighting the temptation to leave it at that, then said, "We call them clairvoyants."

"So she sees the future?"

"No, just the present. It's remote-viewing. Have you ever heard of that?"

Robyn shook her head.

"They used to do it at spiritualist shows, back in Victorian times. The spiritualist would sit behind a screen or in a back room and would describe things in the audience."

"I didn't know that," Karl murmured.

Hope flashed him a smile, as if grateful for the diversion. "That's because you're not True News' True News's weird-tales girl. This stuff is my life, remember?"

Robyn hadn't even thought of that, Hope's unusual specialty. There was more to it than a job, obviously.

"Most of that remote-viewing was fake, of course," Hope said, relaxing now, in her element. "Real clairvoyants are extremely rare. It's pa.s.sed down through generations in varying degrees, so even if you have the blood, you may not be able to remotely view. But those who have the power can see farther than past a screen or into an adjoining room. They focus on a person, using a picture or personal effect."

"Like a psychic."

Hope nodded. "All that stuff has to originally come from somewhere, right? By using that object and focusing, Adele can see you. I have no idea how big a window she gets like I said, true clairvoyants are rare, so we don't know a lot about them. She'd use that view, though, to pick up clues about your surroundings a street sign, a landmark..."

"A napkin with a cafe name on it," Robyn said, remembering the day before.

"Exactly. You said she's a photographer, that she took pictures of Portia for the tabloids. I guess that's how she used her talents."

Clairvoyant paparazzi, able to find their targets anywhere, watch and wait for that moment when they were most likely to do something tabloid-worthy, slip in, snag the shot and leave, while their colleagues chased and hounded and prayed they'd get lucky.

Robyn considered herself a rational person. Too rational, some said. The summer she'd been fourteen, she'd followed a friend to a camp for the arts. At the end of the two weeks, her creative writing instructor told her, as gently as possible, that not all people were cut out to be novelists and if she enjoyed writing, she might want to consider nonfiction instead. In other words, Robyn didn't have an imaginative cell in her body. She'd come to accept that.

But now, faced with the existence of people with real psychic abilities, even her too-rational brain was satisfied that this did did make sense, given the evidence. Was it that preposterous, when there were branches of science devoted to studying such phenomena? As Hope said, the stories about ESP and remote-viewing had to come from somewhere. As long as they were talking about people seeing the present, not the future, then yes, Robyn could accept it. make sense, given the evidence. Was it that preposterous, when there were branches of science devoted to studying such phenomena? As Hope said, the stories about ESP and remote-viewing had to come from somewhere. As long as they were talking about people seeing the present, not the future, then yes, Robyn could accept it.

"So Adele is part of this... group," Robyn said. "This community, of people with... extraordinary powers."

"We have some idea who Adele may have aligned herself with and, yes, it's an organization, but for now, the important part is that we know what she is. We'll be able to deal with her."

"But the larger group, community, whatever, the one made up of everyone with paranormal powers..."

"I wouldn't exactly call it a community."

"You know what I mean."

Hope sipped her coffee.

Robyn waited a moment for Hope to answer. When she didn't, she said, "So we have clairvoyants and..."

Hope added another cream. Stirred. Sipped.

"Clairvoyants and..." Robyn prompted.

Hope set her cup down and leaned back. "What else do you need to know?"

"I said I want to know "

"Need," Karl said.

She looked from one to the other. Both met her gaze, expressions blank.

"So you won't tell me," she said finally.

"Won't, shouldn't, can't..." Hope said. "Anything you need need to know, though, I'll " to know, though, I'll "

"Oh, this is silly." Robyn slumped into the chair, arms crossed. She felt childish doing it, but at least she managed to avoid pouting. "I'm not exactly asking for national security secrets."

"Aren't you?" Karl said. "Perhaps not national security, but certainly very valid security concerns for a group of people."

"Why? So what if the world suddenly discovered people who could remote-view?"