Whispers Excerpt
Chapter 1: Oct 15, 2170 10:00 pm
“Hunk of English shit!” Dianna McDunna slammed her hand against the rental car’s dashboard, trying to stabilize the flickering 3D map with blunt force trauma. The upside-down buildings turned violet and the “You are here” image vanished.
“Temper, temper.” Lil’s voice was distorted through the OnStar speakers, her image appearing on the center console screen. She stuck out a pierced tongue, raking her hand through spiked hair. “I told you you’d get lost within fifteen kilometers.”
“I’m not lost! If this car had a decent map, I’d be fine.”
“Mmmhmm…uploading directions. Next time call me before you leave the airport.” The OnStar screen blipped and Lil’s image was replaced with directions.
“Thanks, I owe you dinner.”
“Only if you ain’t cooking. Call me tomorrow.”
Dianna slowed the car, straining to see the cross streets on the digital signs, but, like her headlights, the street signs were lost in rolling fog. The weather in London sucked.
Guessing she was facing South Pike street, Dianna made a U turn. Her wheels protested the bumpy road and she looked down at the directions, chewing on her lower lip. A shadow crossed her peripheral vision and she stomped on the breaks, the seatbelt biting into her shoulder. Too late, the car collided with a meaty thunk and a body rolled up the hood, stopping against the windshield.
Glowing eyes peered through the cracked glass and Dianna blinked as the creature bared fangs and hissed. For an instant she was grateful it wasn’t a pedestrian, then a taloned fist crashed through the windshield in a showering of safety glass.
Dianna ducked the grab, drawing her Glock from its hip holster, and fired. The creature rolled off the hood, ghosting over a rusting gate whose crooked sign read: East London Sewage Treatment complete with a spray-painted: ‘Condemned’.
She unbuckled her seatbelt, ears ringing. It was bad enough she was lost, hungry and jet-lagged, but now a monster with a sewage fetish? “Don’t even get one night and a cheeseburger?” No one was there to hear her complaints, but it wasn’t as though she’d ever required an audience. Dianna moved through the headlight thinned mist and rattled the rusted gate watching the noxious fumes curled up from the wreckage, mingling with the fog.
The rusted lock gave way with a shove and she followed her would-be assailant, wrinkling her nose at the stench. “Dammit…” She fished out her gun light and attached it to the belly of the Glock, flashing the beam into the dark.
A smear of fresh blood caught her eye and she followed the trail, using the light in measured flashes. The angle of the blood drops changed and Dianna paused, dropping to one knee and touching the concrete. The stains were circular, coming from somewhere above.
Dianna jerked to the side turning the gun muzzle up, firing twice as a heavy body dropped through the fog. Pain flashed through her shoulder, claws connecting and tearing through her denim jacket. She twisted, bucking it off with a kick and the disfigured form darted towards the skeletal treatment buildings. Dianna rose, bruised, but the thick fabric had blunted the blow and kept her skin in one piece. “Vampire. Dammit!”
* * * * * *
Benjamin Taney glanced at the warm vehicle in the road, predator’s night vision taking in smeared blood and smashed windshield. Stroking his moustache, he considered the empty street and the abandoned sewage plant. He’d seen no sign of the car’s occupant, but he’d heard gunshots. Coming closer, he caught the scent of gunpowder mingled with vampire blood on the hood.
“Bloody hell,” he glanced left and right before following the trail to the decrepit sewer plant, vaulting over the rusted gate. A rustle of metal broke the silence and as he landed he noticed the gate was already unlocked. Flaring his nostrils, he narrowed his focus: the feral joined by a human scent, female. He shivered, hunger stirring, but shook off the rise of his Beast, refusing to be mastered by it. Never again.
A sound caught his attention and Benjamin turned, seeing a door dangling on its hinges, more meager splatters of blood glittering under his sight. Unsheathing the silver blade from his cane he crept through the doorway. Where the devil have you gone, you little bugger? And where did you take the woman?
The darkness shone to his eyes in shades of grays and greens though the blood shone red. The building was silent, but he could smell sweat and lavender mingled with the tang of metal and gunpowder. He sped up, sword aloft and supernatural senses attuned. Where were they?
* * * * * *
The hallways of the abandoned building were narrow and twisted with leaking pipes jutting out at odd angles through rotting drywall. Dianna disliked being so enclosed, but didn’t slow. The gun light flashed again and she ducked past a pile of crumbled debris, scanning the passage. “Where are you?” she muttered, kicking goo off her favorite boots.
A soft sound alerted her as the vampire burst through a wall, knocking her backwards. She kept her feet, digging her heels in and firing the Glock twice. The bullets removed chunks of decaying flesh, but the vampire didn’t slow, slamming her against the opposite wall. Spots flashed across her vision, chased away by adrenaline and she fired point blank.
The creature’s body shook with the impact and it howled. It lunged forward, biting through her jacket and into her shoulder. There was no enthralling pleasure in the vicious attack, only pain, and Dianna bit back a scream, slamming the butt of the gun into the feral’s head. It reared back with a hiss, her blood dripping from its mouth.
There was a flash of silver and Dianna instinctively ducked, and the vampire’s head spun away in a spray of cold blood. The body exploded in a cloud of flame and greasy ash, leaving her coughing and singed. She heard a metallic clang and rancid sewage poured down, mingling with the ash in a disgusting burst.
Dianna jerked to one side, sewage and blood dripping down her arm. Her rescuer cursed, his sword lodged in the broken pipe. It was possible he was one of Stephen’s hunters and she clamped down on the urge to yell. She turned the gun light on, illuminating the room. “Should I thank you or shoot you?”
A mid-built man, dressed in a once tidy pair of gray trousers and a black sweater blinked and recoiled, shading his eyes. Fetid green and brown liquid caked his hair and pooled at his feet. “Devil take it, woman, I finished off the blighted creature. I should hope that’s evidence enough.” The Englishman sounded offended. While she couldn’t blame him, she didn’t lower the gun.
Dianna’s hair stuck to her face and she suspected she looked like drowned sewer rat. She kept the gun steady. “Are you one of Stephen’s kids?”
“Kid?”
Despite herself, Dianna was amused at his sputtering reaction. With a supercilious snort, he sheathed the sword. “I don’t work with him, no.”
“But you know him?”
“Yes, we’re mates.” His hesitation roused her suspicions, but Dianna felt too shitty to press. The gash in her shoulder stung, competing for attention with the bruises. She was too old for this. Clawing the filthy hair back from her face, she rubbed a temple. “My car still out there?”
“If it was the ivory one outside the gate, then yes.”
“Small favors.” Dianna studied him without meeting his eyes. She placed his age at least forty, which she found ironic . No rescue from twenty-year-old hunks of manflesh for Dianna McDunna.
He turned and started down the hallway. “Shall we depart? It can’t be healthy in here.” The measure of trust given wasn’t lost on Dianna and she fell in a few steps behind.
“I’m Dianna.” She offered, watching his back as though she could read his expression from the wrong side of his face. Would he recognize her name? “Dianna McDunna.”
* * * * * *
Benjamin missed a step when she introduced herself. Son of a whore. She wasn’t merely a hunter, this was the American Butcher. The dark hair and Celtic knot tattoos ringing her throat should have tipped him off. What was she doing in London? He was struck by the silver threading her hair. She was older than he expected, most hunters retired or were killed before they reached thirty. Dianna McDunna was an example of how dangerous humans armed with knowledge and technology could be. Just bloody wonderful…
Had his faked limp switched feet? He knew he was too well practiced for such an amateurish mistake, but the worry gnawed at him. Not to mention he couldn’t remember the alias Stephen had given him! “I’m Benjamin. It’s a pleasure Miss McDunna.”
She arched an eyebrow, amused, although Benjamin wasn’t sure why. “Now that we’re introduced, let’s be friends until I get to my car? I’m too damn tired and grumpy to be on guard all night.”
He hadn’t blown his cover, or so he hoped. Next time he felt like hunting, he’d remember this and stay in. Nevertheless, he nodded and she holstered her gun, peeling off her stained coat and continuing down the hallway.
Benjamin damned his wariness and caught up, crooking an elbow to escort her. Hunter or not, she was a lady. The world might be vulgar and crude, but nothing would convince him that the decorum and propriety of his youth didn’t have a place. Standing alongside her, he realized she was taller. It was irritating; he had been a tall man in his day.
Staring for a moment, she smiled and tucked her hand at the crook of his arm as naturally as any Victorian lady, which intrigued him. Where had she learned? A spike of Hunger roared, interrupting with the ache of his fangs and graying of his vision until only her pulsing veins remained in color, tantalizing. It would be so easy, just grab her… she had holstered the gun.
“So besides hunting in sewage plants, what do the English do for fun?” Dianna asked interrupting his struggle. She seemed relaxed, but he didn’t believe it. Colors returned to his vision, her voice calming his Beast. Sweet Jesus, he shouldn’t be this susceptible! Though, he hadn’t had much live blood in months, lapses were bound to happen.
Forcing himself to fill empty lungs, Benjamin reasserted control. “We garden and drink tea and perhaps play a bout of croquet. The same as we have done for centuries. We English are nothing, if not slaves to our habits.”
She laughed, which softened her features and Benjamin stared at the elegant line of her neck and the curve of her breasts. Before he could turn away, she arched an eyebrow at him and he turned attention to her gashed shoulder, hoping she’d think he’d been checking the injury. It bled and he breathed in the flavor of her, but the reddening lines of infection concerned him. He frowned. “The wound needs cleansing, post haste, madam. We can avoid a blemishing scar.” He would do best to be rid of her before he did something stupid.
“They all scar. I’m used to it.”
“Perhaps, but it does need to be soon.” He wondered how often she’d been wounded to cause such sangfroid.
“Not arguing. Used to be an old war tactic, you know, fouling the blade with human excrement to give the enemy a lingering death of gangrene.” She punctuated the tidbit with a mild smile, quirky and charming.
“My townhouse is not far. I can offer you a place to bind your wounds.” Decades of politeness inspired the offer. What the devil was he thinking? He needed to get away from her, not invite her home. Even when hungry, he never took them home! There wasn’t a polite way to retract the invitation, and he cursed himself a fool. Sweet Jesus wept, he wasn’t some wet behind the fangs fledgling!
“Thank you, but no.”
It was a relief. And yet, a part of him wanted her to say ‘yes’. It had been some time since he’d shared human company.
Their footsteps echoed against the decaying walls, each step squelching in the pooling sewage. They reached the building exit and Dianna shivered in the cold bite of fall, her very humanity holding his attention.
Benjamin scanned the abandoned parking lot, but noted no movement. Extending his aura, his vision grayed as he sought hidden vampires. He’d only heard of one feral, but vampires were opportunistic and ferals often left a swath of injured prey in their wake.
The only aura he sensed was the woman’s, a mingling scent of lavender, blood and gunpowder. The edges shimmered with flickering light, like a mirage, but when Benjamin tried to focus the effect vanished. He could see the dark veins of injury threading the shifting colors.
“Benjamin?”
“Just thinking.” His vision normalized and he found she was staring at him. While her gaze was invasive, she never met his eyes. He didn’t fit in and he wondered if she would see the lie in his face.
She looked away and, relieved, he guided her out of the building and across the concrete. The silence hung as heavy as the fog, and he wondered what she had discovered in his features.
* * * * * *
Something about him didn’t add up. Maybe because he was so damned polite, that was certainly out of style. Lingering concerns about the man vanished as Dianna saw the car doors standing open.
Dianna growled, stalking across the road. The onboard computer had been ripped from the vehicle and it had been stripped of rubber tubing, all in less than twenty minutes. The trunk was dented, but the lock held. She moved to the back, pressing her fingertips to the laser lockpad. It popped open, her books, weapon case and the duffle of clothing untouched. She pulled one bag clear, but the lift came with pain and her fingers numbed.
“Does it still function?”
She shook her head, switching hands. “I doubt it. The parts worth selling make the car vroom, but I can try.” Dianna rolled her elbow, shoulder aflame though she knew it wasn‘t out of joint. The numbness from her hand crept past her wrist, though her fingers still moved. She pulled the luggage to the side of the car and crawled into the driver’s seat, not bothering to remove the safety glass as she touched her fingers to the ignition.
Nothing happened. “Not even the radio.” She rested her forehead on the steering wheel. “Shit.”
“You have someone to call? I shant leave you here alone.”
Dianna sighed and pulled her phone from her pocket. “Yeah, I’ll call Stephen’s folk, they’ll send a car.” The numbness climbed along her bicep making her arm nearly useless. Stephen’s medic, Mariana, was going to have fits. Leaning against the car, she thumbed the phone, blinking when nothing happened. No beeping, cracked screen… She’d dropped less complicated phones with no problem, but Lil had talked her into a “tricked out” model, and it was fried.
”Not…happening…dammit…” Dianna growled and grabbed her luggage, fingers sluggish. “I passed a gas station a couple blocks back.” Managing to heft the duffle over a shoulder, she didn’t attempt to carry anything else. “Get the books, please? I don’t want to leave anything.”
Benjamin nodded and hefted the last two bags. Dianna was impressed, he was trim and the bags were heavy, but he handled them with ease. Maybe she didn’t need a strapping twenty-something man with abs of steel, though she wouldn‘t complain either.
“These don’t seem like dime-store adventures.”
“I doubt anything I read could be found in a dime-store.” She was amused by the dated term; it was typically English.
“Dime novels are one of my favorite diversions, it’s a delightful way to let go of stress.”
“Letting go gets people killed.” The memories of the dead rose: Mule, Ladis, Tess… the unnamed victims she had watched die, those she’d killed, all the blood on her hands.
“If you need a sympathetic ear, madam…” He invited her to unburden herself but Dianna refused. Depression was its own self-indulgence.
“We all have our ghosts.” She shifted the bag and found she couldn’t feel anything from the rotator cuff down.
The Brit frowned, and he settled his hand at the small of her back to guide her across the street. As queasy as she felt, she didn’t protest.
“They have good coffee?” Nothing was like New Orleans chicory but she’d welcome anything caffeinated and sweet.
“I suggest tea. Coffee rots your stomach.”
She laughed, but a wave of nausea cut it off.
“I will, of course, remain here until your ride arrives.”
“I would appre…” The words cut off as the suitcase shifted forward, making Dianna yelp. She dropped to one knee, swaying, “I…clumsy…” The world twisted on its side and went black.
* * * * * *
Benjamin moved in an instinctive blur, catching her before she hit the pavement. The bags forgotten on the pavement, he cradled her. She was sheet pale, no sign of consciousness in her slack features.
Benjamin didn’t think she’d lost enough blood for fainting, but she could be injured where he couldn’t see. He couldn’t check, it would be improper but his maid could. He realized he’d have to take her home. She was a lamb among wolves in this state. Of course it was six blocks away. She was easy enough to carry, but there was all the bloody luggage.
He considered leaving it, but she’d be upset and no cabbie would take them in this state. It was never this difficult for dime-novel monsters. They would have run off with the girl, luggage be damned.
Resting her over his shoulder, he arranged everything so it could be carried or drug on wheels. Wheeled luggage, why hadn’t he thought of that? It was a novel idea, really. How different his life would have been if he had designed wheeled luggage.
It took a quarter hour to reach his block. The flickering gas lamps, fenced trees and cobblestone pathways of the meandering park was an oasis of the past against the onslaught of the modern. This historic district was protected by law and the tenacity of the residents. Here, the clip clop of shod hooves taking tourists up and down the streets in surreys still interrupted the rumble of automobiles.
411 Briarwood Court was the largest townhouse, four stories tall with a double curved staircase. The wrought iron balustrade supported thick English ivy which crept through its bars and coiled up the white-washed porch pillars.
Leaving the luggage, Benjamin took the steps two at a time and deposited Dianna on a dusty porch swing. She didn’t stir. In fact, she had rested limply the entire trip. Most vampires would have taken advantage of the opportunity, but he couldn’t…wouldn’t. He was deeply worried about the sudden collapse. Women hadn’t been prone to swooning since the corset had gone out of style.
Unlocking the heavy oak door, Benjamin ignored his golden retriever’s ecstatic greeting. He gathered the woman and carried her up the grand staircase to the third floor. Nudging open the door to his bedroom, he laid her in the canopied bed and cocooned her in blankets. Benjamin stared at her hoping she’d wake, but she slept on.
Chapter 2: Oct 16, 12:00 AM
Dianna woke to the smell of clean sheets and expensive cologne. Her left arm felt like a lead weight, her fingers awkward, but she could feel them. She opened her eyes to an unfamiliar room, jerking in near panic. She reached for a gun but her fingers met the blue silk of a man’s robe instead. What had happened to her clothes?
Her heart hammering, she studied the silk sheets and the heavy velvet canopy. She sat up, taking calming breaths. Gingerly poking her shoulder, she found it had been bound in gauze and tape. Frowning, Dianna pulled back the heavy curtains.
The large bedroom was sparsely furnished, walls wood paneled in a soft oak matching the floors. Flames flickered in a stone fireplace opposite of the four poster bed, a blue area rug and rocking chair settled in front of it. The only artwork was a print of a wild foxhunt and a breathtaking tapestry of a sunrise over the seashore.
A classic violin lay atop several sheets of hand-noted composition paper, lit by the glow of a tasseled antique lamp. The mantle clock chimed the Midnight hour in a merry rendition of ‘Ode to Joy’.
A soft rap at the door was followed by Benjamin’s voice, “Miss McDunna, are you awake? May I come in?”
Dianna noticed slippers in the same color as the robe set by the foot of the bed. She slid her chilled toes into them, considering the best defensive position. After a moment, she gave it up as futile and seated herself on the edge of the bed. If he’d wanted to harm her, he’d had plenty of opportunities.
“I’m awake.” She felt awkward inviting him into his bedroom. “You can come in. Not like you need my permission.”
The door opened, aged hinges creaking. Seen in better light, Benjamin was handsome in a distinguished way. He bore a neat blonde moustache and close-cropped blonde hair, both dusted with gray. He was dressed in slacks and a white silk dress shirt, holding a tea tray, the porcelain comically feminine and floral.
“What happened?” Dianna asked.
Laying the tray on the nightstand, he pulled up a chair and poured the tea. The golden liquid had a rich citrus scent: lemongrass.
“You swooned. This tea should bolster your spirits and constitution nicely.”
“Bullshit. I don’t swoon. Light headed, maybe. I had a bloodletting and a fight after a damn long and uncomfortable flight. Swooning is for romance protagonists and pop stars.”
“Rather more than light headed. You most certainly swooned.”
She glared, before letting it slide, considering he had her at a mostly naked disadvantage. Her irritation faded and she felt a brief pang of guilt, taking the tea. It wasn’t fair to be a suspicious biddy.
“Thank you.”
For the first time he smiled, an expression involving his whole face.
“Do think nothing of it, Miss McDunna. I was in the neighborhood, as you yanks say.” He picked up the violin and laid it across his knees, adjusting two of the knobs. “The maid and I cleansed your wounds, but have a care. The cuts showed the beginnings of infection.” He paused. “I took the liberty of ordering a car around. It should be here shortly.”
Dianna sighed, her peace disturbed. Infection was a risk with any injury, but when caused by a feral there was the threat of ghoul-flesh. The only cure was Holy Water to burn away the taint. She’d suffered through a few cleansings which involved both screaming and puking her guts out.
“Again, thank you.”
”No need. It is the duty of a gentleman to help a lady in distress. Even one as capable as yourself.”
She began to protest the damsel-in-distress reference, but the twinkle to his gaze stopped her. He was teasing. Dianna made a face then leaned back. No matter the bravado, she was tired.
Silence drew out between them and she studied the tiny burgundy stripes in the unknotted tie around his shoulders. The quiet wasn’t uncomfortable and questions filled her mind. He was an enigma, but she resisted prying. Dianna closed her eyes, letting the moment be peaceful.
The doorbell chimed and Benjamin jumped. “Oh, quite. The motorcar. I’ll just go and speak to the chap. The maid laid out a change of clothing in the bathroom.”
He backed out, leaving Dianna surprised by the retreat and alone in the silence.
* * * * * * *
Benjamin took the reprieve offered by the doorbell, closing the door and leaning against it. The woman was a strange mix of unrefined and genteel, which he found attractive. His long-dead wife, Katrina, had been similar. It was a pretty picture: McDunna in his bed and robe, dark curls loose around her shoulders. He fought strong stirrings of hunger and lust with revulsion, the emotions stirring the Beast.
Clenching his fists, the visions of ripping into flesh faded. No matter the trouble hunting brought, his predator nature demanded more than blood out of a bag. And last night had lead to complication rather than a meal.
The door chimed again and he strode down the stairs, feet sinking into the heavy carpet. One of the huntress’s duffle bags caught his eye. He was curious, but he first spoke with the delivery lad, a pimply faced young man dressed in the rental service uniform. Accepting the tip with a vulgar Irish brogue, the young man handed over keys and hurried away, leaving a car behind.
From above the sound of running water began with a shriek as the pipes protested. Molly bounded around the corner and leaned against his legs, her tail thumping. “Hello, old girl.”
Benjamin knelt down, rubbing the dog’s ears and letting her nose his face. He chuckled, “You do know the common companion is a wolf. They are fierce. You’re better house-trained, however.” Giving the hound’s head a last pat, Benjamin’s gaze returned to the bag near the door.
He shouldn’t snoop, but curiosity won out and he laid the bag on the table. Molly sat nearby, watching. “Merely looking for a clean jacket, there’s nip to the air tonight…” He found clothing rolled and sorted by item organized for maximum use of space. Her clothing was made of dark fabrics, sturdy and well broken in. Tucked to one side were a handful of pictures, which he pulled out.
One showed a young woman dressed in black leather, her dyed hair cropped short and spiky with a black collar around her neck. She was smiling and flipping off the camera. Another picture was a younger Dianna. Her dark locks were harshly pinned back, the woman in the full dress uniform of a newly graduated cadet of the New York Police Department.
A third page was a drawing of a beautiful man, Spanish by his coloring. He wore an ensemble of silk and denim, the shirt open to the waist. While his appearance was stunning there was coldness to his eyes, age and the promise of death. The word Ladis was scribbled on the back of the page.
A lover, Benjamin concluded, surprised by a spur of disappointment. He grunted and tucked the picture away before the emotion could germinate. Pulling out shirts and pants, he looked for anything else of interest but only found more clothing. Benjamin lingered a moment over a lacy red brazier. It would suit her. His imagination drifted and he pushed it back into the suitcase. He might be a snoop, but voyeurism was going too far!
As he replaced a pair of worn jeans, he saw a piece of paper folded into fourths peeking out of a pocket. Benjamin pulled it out, noticing how yellowed it was; clearly having been fingered many times. Without a second thought, he opened the paper. “Snoop for a penny, snoop for a pound, eh?” He commented to the vigilant canine. Benjamin was certain Dianna wouldn’t be happy, but what a woman didn’t know wouldn’t hurt a chap.
Dianna,
I know paper communication is rare, but this has to be kept between us. We are as close to family as two old hunters have and I’m calling in favors. You brought New Orleans from the brink. I know what it cost you and, despite your retirement plans, I’m asking you to do it again. London is facing a difficult time. The vampire Senate has fallen. The various factions scrabble for power with no one enforcing the laws. We lost many of our veteran members in a recently strike. I need someone training the new recruits. I wish I could do this myself, but I can’t.
I’m dying Dianna and I don’t know why. This thing which haunts me isn’t natural, but we can’t find the cause. I need to know I’m leaving London in good hands and you‘d best come soon.
Stephen Aaron
Benjamin stared at the text. Stephen was dying? It wasn’t possible. He had just seen Stephen last week? Month? When had he seen Stephen? Gad, was he so out of touch? Certainly Stephen would have told him. The thought was a cold shock. Mortal friends went on and grew old and Benjamin stayed the same. The dull pain sharpened.
Refolding the battered paper, he replaced it and the other items. The water upstairs shut off and with each step up the stairs, Benjamin remembered the names of friends and family who had left him behind. The list exceeded his climb and Ben stopped counting.
If Stephen was dying he’d need to make sure Dianna didn’t see him as a threat. Focusing on the practical helped dull the pain. He hoped McDunna wasn’t a stake-em-all and let God sort them out type.
The dog scrambled up the stairs and nudged the bedroom door, whining. “Stay!” he ordered. Once the dog sat, he knocked, entering only after the huntress invited him. He found the robe folded on his bed and Dianna dressed, lacing on sneakers.
She looked up as he entered, combing the knots from her ponytail with her fingers. It only encouraged the chestnut curls, giving her an untamed look. The wounded arm moved slowly, but she was recovering.
“Did they send my car?”
“It’s outside waiting for you.”
He attempted a smile though couldn’t shake the sorrow the letter had inspired. And she’d be leaving now, too. A visceral sense of loss and loneliness hit him. It had been so long since anyone had walked his halls, much less a woman. A hunter, he reminded himself.
“Are you well enough to drive?” It was near dawn, he needed her to leave, but he damned the consequences. He wasn’t ready to return to his solitude.
“I’m feeling better. Washing up helped.” She paused, and then added. “I /do/ owe you for tonight. I won’t forget.”
Would she say such if she knew what he was? He doubted it. “Think nothing of it, Miss McDunna. As I said, it was my pleasure.”
“Then it was fortunate for us both.” She smiled.
The door swung and Molly pushed her way into the room, bounding toward the huntress.
“Molly! Heel!” He snagged the retriever’s collar. “My apologies, I ordered her to stay outside.”
“Not at all. I’m fond of animals.” The woman dropped to one knee, offering the back of her hand. Molly sniffed and Dianna buried her hands in the dog’s ruff, murmuring nonsense. It was a simple happiness, one it seemed only dogs could bring. After too short a moment, she stood. He enjoyed watching her unguarded, another glimpse of the softer edge Katrina had lacked. Even the births of their children had never softened his wife.
“I should go.” She was reluctant and Ben was glad.
Molly leaned against the woman’s side, begging for attention. That was curious, she was a cautious dog, having dealt with unfriendly creatures trying to attack her master.
“Allow me to escort you to the door?”
“Of course.” She smiled, allowing him to guide her down the stairs. At the door, he bowed over her hand and kissed the knuckles which she accepted with surprising grace.
She gathered her luggage and walked down the steps, but she stopped, meeting his gaze. “I will be back, Benjamin Taney.” Dianna smiled and then climbed into the vehicle.
Taney?! Sweet Mother of God, she knew. But how? And yet, she had met his gaze. Did she not recognize the name? Was it a promise or a threat?
The car rumbled to life and took off, turning down the block. Benjamin shut the door and locked it. Returning to his bedroom, he noticed his composition papers had been moved. Staring right at him was the name: J. Benjamin Taney. So he wasn’t the only snoop. Amusement warred with anxiety and in the end amusement won out.
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