Depths: Southern Watch #2 (24 page)

“Oh, baby,” Colleen said, and she cleared her throat. She slid up from her knees and took him in her hand, working him back and forth while she looked him in the eyes. “What other fantasies do you have?”

Gideon was smiling like mad inside, but he only inside. He kept his eyes down, only looking up at her every few seconds to gauge her reactions. “Well, I have this one … but it’s kind of … kinky.”

Colleen ran her free hand over the skin of his neck while she kept gently jerking him off with the other. It was keeping him hard, but that was about all he could say for it. “How kinky, baby?”

“Not too kinky,” Gideon said, and kept his eyes downward. “I just always wanted to fuck a girl from behind … while she was wearing a gag.”

Colleen let out a little laugh, then pulled away from him to arrive at a wooden, mirrored vanity She slid open the top right-most drawer and her hand came back with something black and leather. Gideon had seen one of them somewhere before, in a movie. What was it called? Right. A ball gag. “I think we can handle that, baby,” she said.

* * *

Erin saw the shadow moving out of the bushes over by the left-hand side of the building. She was already out of the car, so she started toward it. It was probably just someone walking a dog or out for a … post-midnight stroll?

She kept one hand on her Glock in its holster as she made her way through the parking lot toward the shadow in the dark.

The air felt even cooler now after the heater in the car had warmed her up. The rain was starting again in earnest, switching from a drizzle to something more steady, and she wasn’t wearing her rain gear. She could feel the droplets hitting the top of her head and her shoulders, falling onto the back of her uniform and seeping through to the skin. The world around her had a blanket of quiet dropped on it save for the sound of the rain and her shoes as she jogged across the pavement.

She edged closer to the source of the movement and saw the figure walking on the path along the side of the apartment building now. A lamp caught a flash of red hair and Erin hurried on, following behind.

Another few steps and she caught a glimpse of the profile—it was a woman. The same woman she’d seen on the overpass with Arch and Hendricks just this afternoon. She was pale like Snow White, her red hair glowed in the light of the lamps, and she was wearing too-tight jeans that were pretty much like something Erin herself might have worn. Except the redhead had on cowboy boots.

Erin started to freeze where she stood, one foot up the half-inch step over the parking lot’s curb onto the sidewalk. She fumbled the step, though—probably from being surprised—and made a noise as she caught her balance. She looked back, like she was expecting to see something other than a curb she tripped over, and when she looked forward again, the redhead was gone.

“What the fuck?” she whispered to herself. There was a quiet hiss in the air as the rain picked up.

“Hello, Erin Harris.” The voice startled her, made her jerk her head to her left. She kept herself from drawing the gun, but it was a close thing.

The redhead was just standing there, looking at her with a cold expression, watching her like she was some kind of animal to be studied. “Hello,” Erin said. “How do you know my name?”

“I know a great deal about you,” the redhead said, never breaking off her cold study of Erin.

“Oh, really?” Erin said and kept watch on her—on her hands. Like she could be hiding a weapon anywhere on that body. In those jeans. Yeah, right. “Well, I don’t know anything about you.”

“My name is Starling,” the redhead said, still watching her.

“Great,” Erin said, and tried to keep from making a sarcastic noise. “That’s really fucking helpful. What are you doing here, Starling?”

“Very simple,” Starling said, never once taking her eyes off Erin—which was fucking nerve-wracking. “I am here to speak to you.”

* * *

The night air in the room was alive around Gideon, almost electric. It was dark, the lights off, and he was giving it to her from behind. Each stroke was almost as good as the ones he gave himself. Better in some ways. The smells of the act were something he was unused to, but they didn’t bother him. He could hear her soft grunts muffled by the gag as he thrust into her and pulled back out again. So this was what he’d been missing.

He focused on the moments of the accident, the catastrophe he’d caused. He could feel their souls floating by him—Sarah Glass, Jack Benitez. Could touch them again, feel their agonies. It was bliss. He could feel something about to happen here, too. He was warming up to it, could feel his skin starting to heat up again. He exhaled, his breaths coming in light gasps. It was enjoyable, in its way.

His hands were on her hips, on her ass, pulling tighter to her, then away as he prepared for another thrust. He had a good grip and the pre-show was about to begin …

He felt her jerk, saw her back tense in the moonlight that peeked between the red curtains. She made a noise but it was muffled by the gag. He could hear it in his head, though.

A scream. Of pain.

He gripped her tighter and clutched her close, felt himself grow stiffer within her. She was clawing at the bed, trying to reach the headboard. Trying to get away.

Silly bitch. No chance. Not against a demon.

She clawed at the sheets and he could hear her nails rip into the fabric. He held on, tighter, his fingers breaking the skin as he kept thrusting.

He grunted, as loud as he reasonably could. Moaned, louder still, to cover her noises. He could feel the desperation as she clawed to get away from him. Felt it. Fed on it.

The thrill overcame him and he finished, could feel the pulse of it, the discharge. He spurted for the first time in a live human being, and he could hear her scream in his head, even though it was muffled by the gag.

“Yeah, baby,” he moaned as she struggled against his grip. His fingers tore into the flesh of her hips. He could feel the blood running down them. She didn’t seem to notice. She had other problems.

The first sizzling noise presented itself to his ears. He could hear his ejaculate burning through her, out her belly. She went limp in his grasp, unconscious from the pain. He could feel himself still climaxing, the power of it stronger somehow, by the proximity and the act.

His breathing grew heavier and his discharge continued. He could feel it tunneling deeper into her now as she sagged limp in his arms. It had ruptured her intestines, her stomach. She was out from the pain, but he could still feel the agony tracing its way through her in her dreams.

He lay her gently upon the bed, facedown. He could hear the sizzle as his jizz burned its way through the mattress. And he did not care.

“There, there,” he said and he stroked her ass. He stayed in her, though he could barely feel anything at all now. Everything close to his member inside had been burned away, seared into ash.

Gideon slumped on top of her, felt her clammy skin against his own warm flesh. He was still coming, her pain a fresh, delicious sweet for him to savor. Being in contact with her skin was like nothing he’d even felt. He didn’t even have to touch himself to keep going. His ejaculations continued unabated, just by being this close to the source of the agony.

He felt his fiery emission creeping deeper and deeper within her, felt her nerves reacting even within her unconscious form. She was so close to death, so close … and he was so close to her, he could feel it, taste it, touch it … it was right there …

When he felt her die, shuddering one last time beneath his fat belly, he came again, this time so hard he could hear it burning all the way up through her sternum and her neck.

When it was over, Gideon rolled over onto his back and fell into deepest sleep. The sleep of the utterly untroubled.

“Beg pardon?” Erin asked. She was standing there, outside Arch’s place, and the redhead was staring at her with those dead, dark eyes. Her hair looked like it was on fire in the light. Crazy shit. Some damned nice product at work there. “What the fuck did you say?”

“I am here to speak to you,” the redhead said. The chill didn’t seem to be affecting her, because she was wearing a tank top. A little too revealing for Erin’s taste. It wasn’t like she hadn’t worn less, of course, but usually only at a beach or a swimming pool. Or in bed.

“About what?” Erin said, her hand resting comfortably on the grip of her pistol. She hadn’t wrapped her hand around the Glock yet, but her palm was resting on the butt of the gun. It wouldn’t take long for her to pull if something went awry.

Erin felt her face pinch as she frowned. Why was she even thinking about drawing a gun? It wasn’t like this woman had done anything to her. She pulled her hand away.

“About the future,” the redhead said.

“Oh, well that’s exciting,” Erin said. The future what? “First thing’s first—what’s your name?”

“Starling,” the redhead said.

“Last name?” Erin asked.

“Just Starling,” the redhead replied.

“Is that your stage name?” Erin said with a smile. “I bet the guys at Moody’s Roadhouse just go nuts when you take your top off.” Starling just cocked her head at her, looking bemused. It probably wasn’t as cute as she’d thought it was. “What about my future or the future or … whatever? Make yourself plain, will you? And while you’re at it, explain why you’re sneaking up on Arch’s door?”

“I told you, I am here to see you,” Starling said in that same dull voice. “And I have no idea what ‘Moody’s Roadhouse’ is, nor what sort of top I would be taking off there.”

“I was calling you a stripper,” Erin said. The shit she was saying did not seem to be dawning on this Starling. Maybe the girl was slow. “Get on with whatever you wanted to say about the future.”

“Your future is not what you think it is,” Starling said in a low voice, almost intoning.

“That’s … inspirational,” Erin said. “My future is not what I think it is? Incredible. Say,” she went on, “you’re not one of those tarot card readers that hangs out back in the woods off Larren’s Pike Road, are you? Because you hill folk really ought to stick to home; this town stuff really doesn’t work out well when you—”

“Your future lies in a different direction,” Starling said, and this time her voice seemed to come alive, stirring something in Erin. “You will protect the people.”

“I’m a cop,” Erin said, a little short. “That’s what I do.”

“You sit behind a desk,” Starling said, eyes looking off into the distance. “You fetch coffee and sandwiches, answer radio dispatches. But you are called to a higher purpose.”

Can I arrest her for lurking?
That was the thought on Erin’s mind after the last little gem came flying out of the redhead’s mouth.

There was a clicking noise of a door opening and Erin turned her head to look. Arch stood framed in his doorway, gun in hand. “Erin?” His soft voice seemed to echo in the empty night. “What are you doing here?”

“I was talking to your friend Starling here—” Erin raised her hand to indicate the redhead, but she was gone. “What the fuck?” She turned and looked around, studying the dark outline of the bushes. “She was just here.”

“Yeah,” Arch said, and he sounded weary, “she does that.”

* * *

Arch had heard voices outside, and lately he couldn’t be cautious enough. He had his gun in one hand, switchblade ready in the other in case it was a demon. It was kind of a relief to step out of the stuffy apartment—Alison had turned the heat up again before going to bed—and into the cool night. It wasn’t like this usually. Not even in late summer.

When he’d seen Erin outside, it was even more of a surprise. He wouldn’t have been shocked to find Reeve. Man did his own dirty work, and Arch was surprised he hadn’t called Alison at least. He was still working on what to say to explain everything that had happened.

“So what are you doing here?” Arch asked Erin, who was still staring off into the night, like she could catch a glimpse of Starling in the bushes and drag the red-haired girl out to prove she’d been there. Arch was sure she had been; how else would Erin have known who she even was?

“I told you,” Erin said, and she sort of snapped, “I was talking to your friend Starling.”

“Yeah,” Arch said, patient by virtue of not having the energy to get irritable, “but I presume you were at least driving by the parking lot of my apartment building before that …”

“Oh,” Erin said, and she stopped peering at the hedgerow of bushes and trees. “Well, yeah, I was looking for you.”

“Here I am,” Arch said. He holstered his Glock. He kept the switchblade clutched in his palm, though, the cool plastic and metal against his skin. “Found me, you have.”

“Yeah, I—” Erin stopped, her short blond hair bobbing as she angled her head at him. “Did you just quote Yoda?”

“Sort of. The actual quote is, ‘Found someone, you have—“ Arch felt a slight tinge of embarrassment. “I like
Star Wars
. So what?” He’d taken some heat on the football team in high school for liking geeky things sometimes, not to mention those rolled-eye looks from Alison. Didn’t stop him from liking them, though.

“Reeve is looking for you,” Erin said. She was at a distance, standing up the walk a ways toward the parking lot. “He’s hopping pissed that you turned off your phone.” She looked at him with narrowed eyes. “I told him I’d seen you up on the overpass with Hendricks and Starling.”

“He’s pretty mad, I take it?” Arch felt the burn on that one, too. Dereliction of duty, he thought it was called in the military. Something Hendricks would probably know. He felt a burning on that one, too, and wondered again what to do about the cowboy.

“He ain’t happy,” Erin said. “We got all this shit coming down, plus Tallakeet Dam is gonna start running over tomorrow.” She shook her head, made a little angry noise. “I thought your God said he wasn’t gonna flood the earth again.”

Arch felt that tinge of annoyance for again having to explain away something that seemed obvious to him. “Despite what Reeve may think, the Caledonia River Valley doesn’t constitute the whole earth.”