Dying Dreams (Book 1 of Dying Dreams Trilogy) (2 page)

Fulsom shrugged and Sloane fought the urge to grab him by the neck and shake him. On some deeper level he knew that his anger had more to do with the bad day he’d had, but he was in no mood to be rational. Aria, the woman dead on the beach, had been someone he’d known and liked. He’d learned to cover his emotions, but he’d never learned how to be unaffected by a dead body, especially the dead body of a friend or acquaintance. “You wanna explain it to me using words?”

Henrik Fulsom studied Sloane, then his eyes widened and he chuckled. He started back down the beach the way they’d come, carrying the briefcase body bag. “You like her.”

Sloane took a deep breath and reminded himself that tackling the troll wouldn’t help, and would only give him more bruises he didn’t need. He knew the troll well enough to understand that he was trying to distract Sloane and himself from thinking about the contents of the briefcase. He also knew Fulsom was aware of how badly he’d screwed up and was trying to change the subject. Neither made Sloane feel warm and fuzzy toward his partner. He fell in step next to Fulsom and tried to speak calmly. “Why. The. Hell. Didn’t. The. Persuasion. Work?”

Fulsom shrugged again. “She’s immune. I mean I don’t got the strongest magic, but what I do got wasn’t working, so I’m thinking she’s immune. Probably got some fae blood in her somewhere.” He chuckled to himself. “Wouldn’t mind putting something else fae in her.”

“No one’s immune,” Sloane said. He had some fae blood and persuasion still worked on him, though he would have every right to kill someone who used it on him. If he found out about it.

“Cleatis is.”

“Cleatis is a fucking dragon and they’re immune to every fucking thing but other fucking dragons.”

“Language, pardner,” Fulsom said, and clucked in dismay. “This chickie really got under your skin.” He laughed. “I wouldn’t mind having her under my–”

“Can you go five seconds without thinking about sex?”

Fulsom looked at him, eyes wide. “Can you?”

“I can at least not share every thought that crosses my mind,” Sloane said. An image of Liza’s rearview as she walked away flashed in his mind, but he pushed it down. He had a gorgeous girlfriend and didn’t need to be thinking about anyone else’s attributes.

“Ah, so you are thinking about–”

“The only thing I’m thinking about is how much trouble she’s going to cause us, and the last thing I need right now is more woman trouble.”

Fulsom laughed again and Sloane resisted the urge to shove him in the cool, salty water. Sloane wouldn’t mind a swim himself, but Fulsom was a troll and trolls hated water.

“Frankie mad about you not coming home last night?”

“I was on a case.”

“You were on a hunch. You work too hard, and for what? They’ll never let you transfer, we’re understaffed as it is.”

“That’s not what it was about,” Sloane said, though he knew it was a lie and Fulsom knew it was a lie. He also knew Fulsom was right about him never getting that transfer, but if he accepted that he was going to be stuck in the supernatural division for the rest of his life, he might as well give up now. “And that’s not the point. What the hell are we going to do about the girl?”

“Hope she has a starring role in my dreams tonight?”

“Fuck. We’re so fucked.”

“That’s what I’m hoping.”

Sloane rolled his eyes and kept tromping down the beach, his dress shoes making the walk more difficult and making him feel ridiculous. “Did you forget you’re married again?”

“Nothing in the marriage contract says I can’t flirt with a fine piece of a—”

“Okay, try to show a little respect.” Irritation rippled under Sloane’s skin and he tried to tamp it down. Fulsom was, by his very nature, a flirt and a sex-obsessed man, but he’d never cheated on his wife, to Sloane’s knowledge, and he’d never mistreated any woman.

Fulsom stopped walking. “Does that bother you, delicate flower? Is it my words you object to or is it that you want the woman?”

Sloane kept walking. He knew better than to give his partner anything to latch onto. “Let’s focus on the case.”

“Because the thing is, Buttercup, you got a serious, live-in girlfriend who wouldn’t be too happy about the thoughts you’re having about some woman you met on the beach.”

“The only thoughts I’m having are about the case.”

“The difference between me and you is that I’m thinking about sex, which my Melda will understand and forgive, but you, you’re feeling protective. You’re not thinking about getting your face between her thighs, you’re thinking about protecting her from creeps like me, you’re thinking about making her yours.”

Sloane kept walking and ignored Fulsom, but his words still managed to slide under his skin. Fulsom was an idiot about a lot of things, but he was very good about reading people, and Sloane knew he wasn’t wrong. Something about the woman had brought out his protective instinct and not in a brotherly way. It was the way she’d been so insistent on helping his dead friend, even though she was clearly afraid of Sloane. Sloane shook his head to clear the thoughts. “For once in your life, can you just shut up?”

Fulsom didn’t say any more, but the smug grin on his face was almost worse than his words.

*LIZA*

Liza jumped up as soon as Ellison walked in, his head down, his hair flopping into his eyes. Her dog, Beauty, a stray mutt she’d found wandering the streets the winter before, leapt up and ran to Ellison, whining for a pet. Ellison smiled and bent to scratch Beauty behind the ears. Liza studied him for a moment, unable to resist comparing him to Agent Rice. Ellison was lean, but not scrawny, he was wiry, with good muscle tone and a swagger that was more a shuffle. Then he looked up and she remembered exactly why she’d fallen in love with him. It was that sweet vulnerability on his handsome face, the need to be taken care of. He gave Liza a weak smile and she could see dampness in his emerald-green eyes. Beauty was jumping around Ellison’s feet yipping for more attention and Liza hurried over and picked her up, reminding her not to bark or they’d all be out on their asses, since dogs weren’t allowed in their lease. Neither was Beast, the cat that wound its way between Liza’s ankles and almost knocked her over.

“Shit, sweetie, what happened?” Liza asked once she’d regained her balance. She sat on the couch and patted the seat next to her. “Tell me.”

Ellison slumped down and sighed. “She dumped me, Li. I had the trip all planned, five days in the Caribbean, and I’d saved for months, you know how hard I’ve worked.”

When he’d started saving for that trip, he’d been planning to take Stacia, but she’d dumped him three months ago and he’d just kept on saving anyway. He’d promised to take Liza, until he met Brooklyn. As a new lawyer at a small firm, he made a decent salary, but not enough to take a Caribbean trip without working for it. “You’d only gone out twice, sweetie. It might have been a little too soon to mention the trip.”

“But I was so sure she was the one, really the one. Besides, I asked you to move in when we’d only been going out for two weeks, and you didn’t get scared off.”

She’d moved in with him because she’d felt so strongly about him, and because she was just as impulsive as he was. “What we had was different and… I’ve always thought that when you meet the right girl she’ll be just as eager to jump in with both feet as you are, but I’m starting to think you might want to slow down just a little.”

“Slow down?”

“Maybe just hold back a bit. You can know you love someone after the third date, but you don’t have to start talking marriage and living together until a few months have gone by.”

“But why? I thought girls liked commitment and all that. You did.”

“I loved it. I love it. I love you. But most girls, sweetie, they need more time. Let them get to know you first.”

He ran a hand over her bare thigh and played with the hem of her shorts. “Why don’t you and I give it another try? We were so good together.”

“We were good together for exactly five weeks before we started driving each other crazy.”

He slid his fingers under her shorts and started angling toward the good stuff. She shivered. Chemistry had never been lacking between the two of them and he knew just how to push her buttons. “The sex was always good,” he said. She actually considered it for a few moments. It had been several months since she’d had actual sex with an actual man, and she was ready for that dry spell to end. But it had been two years since she and Ellison had slept together and she knew if they started again, they’d both stop trying to find someone else. She didn’t want them to end up together just because it was easy.

“No, sweetie, but I will take you and eight of your best friends out to dinner at Lobster Palace, my treat.”

Ellison’s two favorite things were food and sex, with true love coming in a close third, and he forgot all about seducing Liza as soon as she mentioned lobster. “You can’t afford that.”

“I’m not paying. Some guy on the beach had these free vouchers he couldn’t use and he gave them to me.” She wasn’t sure why she didn’t tell him the truth. She told Ellison everything, and she knew he wouldn’t tell anyone else. She just didn’t feel right about betraying the promise she’d made to Rice.

Ellison eyed her for a moment, not sure if he believed her, but since she’d never lied to him before, he started jumping up and down on the couch. “Suweet! I’m calling Johnny and Cal and Marcy. You pick the other five.”

She laughed at his enthusiasm. “Reservations are at eight, so hurry your ass up.”

He leapt off the couch and headed to his room, already dialing. She pulled out her own cell phone and started calling people. They shared the same friends, so it wasn’t hard to come up with a fun bunch.

She was underwater, but she wasn’t drowning. Somehow, she was breathing as comfortably as she did on land. She swam fast, her tail undulating and flicking through the water so easily it felt like flying, but she couldn’t enjoy the sensation. Her heart raced and fear choked her. Someone was chasing her and she had to get away, she had to – a sharp pain in her back stopped her. She tried to move, to swim away, but all she could do was sink, paralyzed, toward the ocean floor. The sandy bottom was closer than it should have been and she realized she’d swum too close to shore in her panic. She tried to turn, but her body wouldn’t respond and her panic increased. She thought of other women and men who moved through the water, their tails glittering in the sunlight. She thought of Ellison and her friends, she thought of her parents who she hadn’t spoken to in two months and wondered if they’d notice her absence from their lives. Then a face appeared before her, a man in a scuba mask. She studied his dark eyes and the scar on his nose as he raised a knife to her throat and pushed down hard. She knew she should feel afraid, she should try to fight, but some deeper part of her understood it was too late. There was nothing left for her to do, but to let go. His eyes were the last thing she saw before her world went black. Dark-grey eyes as cold and hard as stone
.

Liza woke to darkness. She couldn’t see anything and her legs were being held by something. She kicked and twisted and, when strong arms pinned her down, she fought harder.

“Liza, chill, it was just a dream,” Ellison said.

She relaxed in his arms. Her throat hurt from screaming, and her face was sticky with tears. “God, it was awful,” she said. Bile rose in her throat and she forced it back down. “Something’s got my legs.”

Ellison untangled her legs from the sheet and pushed her down on the bed. “Go back to sleep. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

“What time is it?” She couldn’t stop shaking and her stomach was roiling. Ellison pushed her on her side and started rubbing her back.

“Four.”

“Shit, I have to be at the lab in an hour. I might as well just get up now.” But she didn’t move, she wasn’t sure she could move.

“Well, I’m going back to bed. Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” she said. “It was just a dream.” She knew it wasn’t, but Ellison wasn’t the person she needed to talk to about it and he would only worry if she did. She took a deep breath, and tried to calm herself. She flicked on the lamp next to the bed and watched him walk out, realizing for the first time that he was naked. “You brought someone home?” After dinner, they’d gone to Johnny and Cal’s for drinking games. She’d left before Ellison and walked home with a couple of guys who lived in the next building.

He looked back at her over his shoulder and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “I sure did.”

“One of the group? Who is it?” She’d been telling Ellison he ought to go out with Marcy for ages. Marcy was a sensible, type A personality and could ground Ellison in a way Liza thought he needed.

Ellison frowned. “Marcy.”

“Yay!” She leapt up to her knees and air-clapped, so as not to wake Marcy. “You two are so cute together.”

“Don’t go picking out china, Li. It was just one night.”

Her heart sank. “It was bad?”

“We’ll talk later,” he said, and he left. That wasn’t good. If Ellison hurt Marcy, they’d probably have to stop hanging out with her and Liza loved Marcy. She thought Ellison loved Marcy.

Liza slumped back onto the bed, trying to figure out how she could continue her friendship with Marcy if Marcy hated Ellison, but all she could think of was her dream and sinking alone in the cold, dark water. She needed to get to work, then she needed to find Agent Rice.

Liza had been having the dreams since her eighth grade biology class when she’d had to dissect a frog. It probably should have put her off science to dream about a happy little frog struck down in his prime, but her love for biology overcame the icky dream and, well, it was just a frog. Not the most loveable of animals. As she progressed in biology, she’d had to dissect more animals and had more dreams. She figured the dreams were the product of an over-active imagination. Until she told Ellison about them six months before. He’d started testing her. She told him about the dreams she’d had in the past, always about dissection animals and he found out exactly how they’re killed and prepared for dissection. She’d never looked into it before, but it matched her dreams perfectly. Still, the method of death wasn’t terribly surprising and Liza figured she’d just made a reasonable assumption in her subconscious and then dreamed it.