Click Here to Return to Homepage for A Good Read

Foundling

By: Dorothy McFalls

December 2005

For Dorothy McFalls (dorothy@dorothymcfalls.com), happily-ever-after is more than just a fictional ending, having enjoyed every day of the last twelve years of marriage to her sexy architect husband (really, he is!) who often exhibits the patience of a saint. They reside in an artsy beach community in South Carolina with their cat-like dog and dog-like cat. Formerly an environmental urban planner, she now writes full time.

If you enjoyed Foundling, buy my Historical Romance LADY IONA’S REBELLION from Cerridwen Press (www.cerridwenpress.com/productpage.asp?ISBN=9781419909368) and look for NEPTUNE’S LAIR in February 2008, which continues the story of The Protectors, from Whispers Publishing (www.whispershome.com)

“She’s not ready,” Hadrian Graham said. He watched through a pair of high-powered binoculars as a young teacher herded a gaggle of kindergarteners from the schoolyard playground.

“I know.” Frank Stone sounded grim.

“It’s going to be Christmas in a week,” Hadrian pressed. He knew first-hand what it was like to be pushed to accept something as impossible as this. He’d been a few years past ready, and still it had been hell. “Can’t we wait?”

“No.” Frank turned away. They were in the city park across from the school. He trotted down the concrete steps that led to a sunken fountain. A sheen of ice covered the silent waters. “Forces are in play that have taken that luxury away from us.”

Hadrian followed him.

“She’ll break,” he said. They’d been watching her for the past three years. Hadrian still couldn’t get over how fragile she looked. She was a slender woman with a haunting pair of green eyes. “It’s too soon. We bring this to her, she’ll fall off the edge and drop straight into hell. And what do we do? What good will she be to us...to anyone?”

Frank ran his finger lightly of the smooth surface of the ice. It crackled.

“Then you better not let that happen,” he said.

* * *

“Burl Ives?” Priscilla’s eyes grew wide.

Holly Post nodded furiously. “That’s right. He was my mother’s uncle. My great-uncle. Holidays were wonderful. The children would gather round him. He’d sit right by the Christmas tree and play the guitar. We’d all sing along. Even the adults.” She paused for a quick breath. “And we’d all drink lots and lots of eggnog.”

“Wow,” Priscilla whispered.

Holly felt a stab of pride. She closed her eyes and pictured the lovely scene. The soft snow falling in fat clumps outside while a fire blazed warm in the fireplace. And the family, large and happy, gathered around and enjoyed the closeness of the season. Norman Rockwell would have been proud.

“He’s gone now,” Holly said, in a soft, solemn voice. “Uncle Burl. But my cousin does a fair job carrying on the tradition.”

“So, that’s what you’re doing this Christmas?” Priscilla asked. “Spending it with your family?”

Holly nodded happily. “It’s the Catskills this year. I’m sooo looking forward to seeing everyone. We live too far apart nowadays. Christmas is the only time we really get the time to spend time together.”

“Gosh--” Holly could hear the awe in Priscilla’s voice. “--if my family got together like that, they’d probably have to call in the national guard to break up the war that would erupt.”

Holly laughed. “Well, my family is different.”

“I’m glad you have someplace to go,” Priscilla gave Holly’s arm a squeeze. “I have to admit, though, John and I were hoping you could spend Christmas day with us and the kids.”

There was a warm glow in Holly’s chest as she hugged Priscilla. She didn’t have much time with her friend. Her students were giddy as she wished them a Merry Christmas as they rushed off to meet their parents. It was the last day of school before the Christmas break. She packed up her things. The holly-jolly carols were echoing in her head as she let the image of the perfect Christmas day grow and take shape.

If only...

She trudged home, bracing herself against the stiff cold wind that whipped down the street, and wondered what she’d do with herself over the next two weeks.

Most teachers relished the holiday break. They were so chipper, so excited to have some time off to spend with their family. Holly hated feeling left out. She had simply wanted to share in their joy.

So, two years ago, she’d invented a family. A wonderful family that grew all the larger and happier every year. Burl Ives was a new addition this year. It was silly, she knew. But she didn’t want them to know the truth...that she spent every Christmas alone because she had no one. And never had.

The gray sky looked heavy. She hoped for snow. The winter browns and rusts had been darkening her mood. Some sparkling snow would help and make the short days feel a little brighter.

Night fell so early this time of year. The streetlamps were already flickering on one by one as the clouds blotted out the last sign of day.

An unusually strong gust of wind caught her coat and Holly stumbled as it tried to push her back toward the school.

“Easy there,” a man said. He caught her in his arms and pulled her up against his side. So close, she felt his warmth seeping through her.

“I-I’m okay,” she said as she tried to push him away. This wasn’t the safest neighborhood. Just two weeks ago, a woman who lived in Molly’s apartment building had been attacked as she made her way to the laundry mat. The last Holly had heard, the woman was still in the hospital and the hooded thug who’d put her there was still out on the streets.

The man refused to loosen the grip he had around her waist. The wind blew harder.

“A nasty storm’s brewing,” he said when her questioning gaze met his. He wasn’t wearing a hood, thank goodness. But that didn’t mean she was out of danger though.

He wasn’t much taller than her, which would make him average height for a man, but his shoulders were broad and she could feel iron cords of strength in the arms holding her fast to his side. If he turned out to be the kind of guy who enjoyed hurting a woman, there wasn’t a thing she could do to get away from him.

He must have read the panic in her eyes. “The sidewalk here is icy. Just a moment, and I’ll turn you loose. If I let you go right now, you’ll slip. Especially since you’re fighting me like this. I don’t want you ending up bruising your bottom.”

She held her breath and waited to find out if he was good to his word. Stupid or not, she stopped trying to pull away from him and let him lead her to the corner. True to his word, he released her.

The wind was still wicked and cold. The air ached in her chest when she thanked him.

“Let me buy you a coffee.” He gestured over at a corner coffee shop. “I don’t know about you, but I’m just about frozen.” A smile softened his hard-edged features.

“No, no thank you.” She hurried on down the street. “I’m going out of town for the holidays. I need to get home and pack.”

She glanced back and saw the man hadn’t moved. He was standing in the middle of the sidewalk and was watching her. His overcoat was rippling in the wind. He’d tilted his head and was frowning. There was something eerie in that look that kept Holly unsettled and tossing in her bed that night.

* * *

“I don’t understand,” Detective Newton shook his head as he stared down at the body of a young woman.

Ice crystals had formed on her eyelashes. A light sprinkling of snow covered her body. She didn’t look dead. Instead, he thought she rather looked like a fairy-tale princess cursed with a spell and waiting for a magical kiss to revive her.

It was a damned shame, really. Just before the holidays. She was so young. Couldn’t have been much above twenty. And she was dressed well. Looked healthy. Alive.

But she wasn’t.

“She was murdered,” the mysterious Hadrian Graham said. It was a calm declaration. Like saying there would be snow today. Or that Newton’s wife had burned yet another meal.

“You must have ice in your veins,” Newton ground out. “Dammit, look at her. She was in the prime of her life. She probably has a family who will grieve her. She matters! How can you be so detached about her death?”

“I have to be,” Graham answered with that same flat tone.

Newton swiped his mouth with the back of his hand and took a deep breath. He should know better than to let an enigma like Hadrian push his buttons. None of the cops on the force understood Graham’s role with the city. Nor did they understand why he’d show up at certain crime scenes. But Graham had the blessing of the mayor, so his presence was tolerated...or so that was the captain’s orders.

Personally, Newton thought there was something fishy about him. He didn’t like how he lurked around an official investigation, giving hints about the crime and murderer, but never any direct answers.

Sometimes he helped the city make an arrest. Often though, the case would be closed, but labeled unsolved. What the hell was up with that? Why close an unsolved case...unless there was something else going on behind the scenes. It stank, and it made Newton edgy as hell to be in charge of yet another case where Graham was involved.

“How can you be so sure she was murdered? There’s not a mark on her that we can see. And how can you discount a drug overdose? Or even a freaking heart attack?”

Graham didn’t answer. He tucked his hands into his coat pocket and started to walk away.

“She’s the first,” he warned.

* * *

Holly greeted the next day with a grumpy mood and chilly toes. The only silver lining she could find was that it had snowed last night. Just a light sprinkling. The blasted furnace in the building was out. Again. Her refrigerator was empty. So, no breakfast. That odd encounter with the rather hunky man yesterday had made her completely forget to stop at the grocery store.

She shook the empty coffee tin over the filter, hoping to gather enough loose crumbs to brew at least one cup. She oh so didn’t do well without sleep. No good. There wasn’t enough coffee grounds left in the bottom of the tin to turn the hot water brown.

With a huff, she shrugged on her coat and stomped out of her building. She wouldn’t be able to start the day without getting to the grocery story.

“Shit,” she muttered. The building’s self-locking front door clicked closed the moment she realized she’d left her keys up in her apartment.

This was going to be one of those days. The Christmas decorations in the grocery store looked obscenely cheery. She wanted to rip the poster of a happy elf off the wall above the coffee display and tear it to bits. She nearly did tear it to bits after searching her purse for a wallet that wasn’t to be found. Crap. She’d taken out her wallet last night. She’d needed her credit card in order to send a Christmas bouquet to Sister Margaret’s grave.

She cursed softly after glancing at her watch. It was six-thirty in the morning. The building superintendent wouldn’t be available until nine. Which meant she was locked out and broke for two and a half hours.

“I’m not much of a morning person either,” the man from the other day came up behind her and said. She whirled around to glare at him. He was dressed all in black and looked well rested and heartbreakingly handsome. “Will you let me buy you that coffee now?”

Holly bit back a growl.

He smiled and held up his hands like he was surrendering. “If you need references, Josie--the grocery store owner--” He gave the gray-haired grandmotherly-looking woman working the register a wave. The woman’s cheeks turned pink as she smiled warmly and waved back. “--She can vouch for me. She’s known me all my life. Nearly raised me.”

Holly couldn’t understand why he was acting so friendly. She wasn’t a drop-dead beauty. She knew that. Guys never approached her or asked her out without a prior introduction. And never, ever did a guy pursue her like this one was doing.

She was still wearing her flannel pajamas under her heavy coat. Lack of sleep had left dark smudges under her eyes. She hadn’t run a comb through her hair. Instead, she’d finger combed it and pulled the long mousy brown strands back into a ponytail. There was nothing attractive about her this morning. And she was as grumpy as a bear.

He should be running the other direction...not grinning and looking as if her cranky mood was charming his socks off.

He held out his hand. “I’m Hadrian, by the way.”

Without thinking, she took his hand. That warmth she’d felt from him before, seeped into her. She shivered as his warmth squeezed out the bone-deep winter cold.

“Hadrian,” she said. It was too early to be having to come up with anything coherent to say. “An unusual name.”

“The woman who named me was in love with Rome.”

She didn’t understand what he meant by that, but she nodded anyhow.

“Coffee?” he said. “I know I sure could use a cup.”

Her mind told her to say no. Her tongue was prepared to utter that simple little word. And her feet were ready to stomp out the store, cursing her own bad luck.

But Lord, she wanted a cup of coffee and didn’t have the means to get one on her own. At least, not until after nine...which might as well be lifetime away.

So instead of doing the rational, safe thing--she nodded. Barely.

“Great!” He hooked his arm through hers. “There’s a super little café just down the block. They make the perfect chocolate croissant. The pastry is sweet and buttery,” he said as he led her out of the store and back into the snow-coated city. “It melts in your mouth. And in the center is a chunk of the deepest, darkest chocolate you’ve ever tasted. You’ll swoon.”

Her mouth watered in anticipation.

They went to a small, hole-in-the-wall café she’d never noticed before. It was close to her apartment building. She wasn’t a hermit. By all accounts she should have at least noticed the café.

“Is this place new?” she asked, thinking that that couldn’t be right. The sign over the door looked ancient. A bell tinkled as Hadrian pushed the door open. A half dozen people were inside the long, narrow shop. Several were reading the newspaper. An older couple was playing chess. They all greeted Hadrian warmly, and by name. Like he was part of their family.

“We’ve been in operation since 1903,” the man behind the counter said. He reminded Holly of a billygoat with his long, narrow face and white goatee. He was wearing a worn sweatshirt that had the café name, The Oblique, printed across the chest. “The usual, Hadrian?”

“No, bring us two strong coffees and some of your chocolate croissants. I’ve been singing their praises all the way over.”

The curious gazes of the other customers followed Holly to the small table Hadrian had picked out near the back of the shop. No one was talking. They all were watching her.

It was creepy.

And why had she never noticed this café before?

“I-I-I--” She started to back away from the table. “I just remembered something I need to do.”

Hadrian’s hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. “Stay.” There was a force--a compelling power--in his voice. She swallowed hard.

“I can’t,” she whispered. She could feel the curious gazes burning into the back of her neck. This was too much. She didn’t know what it was, but something wasn’t right, wasn’t...natural about this place.

She twisted her wrist free and darted out the door and kept running until her lungs burned and her legs ached and she didn’t have the strength to run any more.

* * *

“She’s not ready.” Kara left the chessboard and went over to put her hand on Hadrian’s shoulder.

“I know,” Hadrian said. “But Stone says there isn’t time. We need her now.”

“And what do you think?” she asked.

“It’s awake.”

Kara drew back. A few of the others started talking in nervous whispers.

Jake, the café manager, cursed. “It fed last night?”

Hadrian nodded. “A young woman.”

Jake cursed again.

“She’s not ready,” Kara said again. “You can’t expect --”

Hadrian drew his mouth into a grim line. “It doesn’t matter.”

* * *

Detective Newton cursed under his breath. Hadrian Graham had been right.

Again.

Hell, Newton wished that bastard would be wrong every once and a while. Christmas was days away. And another mysterious death just pushed his chances of taking some time off to spend with his family further away.

A man, about the same age as the woman they found yesterday morning, lay dead in an alleyway. Like the woman, he looked healthy. Too healthy to be dead, dammit. What was going on?

“I thought you could use this?” Graham held out a Styrofoam cup.

Newton wanted to refuse. But his nose caught the rich scent of the brew. This was expensive coffee, not the watery junk they had down at the station. And it was bitterly cold out that morning. He’d be a fool to turn it down, even if it was a gift from that bastard Graham.

With a grimace, he wrapped his icy fingers around the piping hot cup and took a long sip.

“I don’t like this any more than you do,” Graham had the nerve to say.

“It’s Christmas. Time for families to be together. To be going to church. To be celebrating life.”

“I didn’t kill him,” Graham said.

“I didn’t say you did.”

“If it makes you feel any better, the timing is inconvenient for me, too. Damned inconvenient.” Graham sounded miserable.

Newton knew Graham’s misery shouldn’t have any bearing on his own mood.

But it did.

He sniffed. “The lab hasn’t been able to pin down a cause of death for the woman yet. Are you willing to drop any hints? Help us catch this monster so we can celebrate the holidays without this hanging over our heads? Without having to ruin another family’s lives?”

Graham merely shook his head. “He won’t be the last.”

* * *

Holly spent an hour walking up and down her street, searching for The Oblique Café. It bugged her that she’d never noticed it before and she wanted to know why. Besides, she couldn’t seem to get Hadrian out of her head. She thought if she could find the café and eat a chocolate croissant, she might be able to put the whole crazy thing behind her.

After walking past every shop for the fourth time and coming up empty-handed, she knew the reason she couldn’t find the shop. It simply wasn’t there.

She scratched her head. That’s impossible, of course. A café just doesn’t appear and disappear at will like that.

The only thing familiar from yesterday morning was the woman who’d been playing chess in the café. At least she thought the woman walking down the street toward her was the same woman.

There was only one way to find out. She’d have to ask. She was on the way to doing just that when her neighbor, Karen Sookle, called out to her.

“I heard from Priscilla that you’re going out of town this Christmas,” Karen shouted from halfway down the block.

Shoot, she’d forgotten that Karen and Priscilla were such close friends. In the past, she’d always hinted that her family was coming into town. This was the first time she’d created an out-of-state holiday tradition. And she’d only told Priscilla.

Holly waited for Karen to catch up to her, not at sure what to say.

“When are you leaving? I’ll be glad to watch the apartment. Water the plants,” Karen said.

“Um...yes, about that...”

“I’m so pleased to hear you’ll be having a big Christmas at home. I was just telling Priscilla the other day that I was worried about you. You never seem to go anywhere. You deserve a break, you know.”

“Do I?”

Karen wrapped her arm around Holly’s shoulder. “Of course you do, you silly goose. I bet your family is humming with excitement, too. Priscilla told me that you’re related to Burl Ives. What wonderful childhood memories you must have.”

“Um...yes.” She closed her eyes and could clearly picture that lovely Christmas scene she’d painted for Priscilla the other day. It was something she wanted with all her heart and soul. And like Karen said, she deserved it.

“Yes,” she said and felt the glow of Christmas pleasures grow inside her. “Yes, it is going to be wonderful. Mom bakes up a storm, you know. Any kind of cookie you could imagine, she bakes it. And my aunt Mavis, she creates the most impressive ginger bread houses. One year, she made a replica of Kensington Palace, complete with candied glass windows.”

“Wow,” Karen mouthed. She sounded exactly like Priscilla. “All that? You’re so lucky. It’s just Mom and me. And she complains the whole time. I’m not as young as I used to be, she says. And wouldn’t you know her friend’s daughter recently married a doctor? The bitch. My mom spent all Thanksgiving telling me that it was my duty to give her the same pride and joy as Cheryl gave her mother. Bragging rights. That’s all she cares about. Not my happiness. Not that I’m doing great in my career. She just wants to tell her friends that her daughter landed a doctor, too.”

“Poor thing,” Holly said with a laugh. “I wouldn’t know what I’d do if my mother ever did anything like that to me. She keeps telling me to take my time, in fact.”

“So, when are you leaving?”

Oops, she should have kept her mouth shut. But the fantasy felt so good that she wanted to indulge in it one more time. She supposed she could splurge and get a hotel room for a few days. What day was Christmas this year, anyway? Hopefully, the hotels weren’t all booked solid next week.

“Monday,” she said, unable to think of a better date. “I’ve been furiously packing.”

Karen promised to water the plants. Holly was vague about when she’d return. She hoped a few days away would be a long enough time to make a believable vacation. There was no way she could afford to stay in a hotel for much longer than that.

As Karen rushed off to do some last minute Christmas shopping, Holly could only smile at her own folly. The lengths she went through to get that perfect Christmas.

If only...

Holly spotted the woman from The Oblique Café again. She tried to catch up to her, to ask her about Hadrian and where she could find the café, but the woman was rushing down the street. And she looked terribly upset.

* * *

“You’ve got to do something!” Kara shouted.

Hadrian was meeting with Frank Stone at the café. They were discussing the latest death when Kara charged in.

While Hadrian surged out of his chair, Stone remained calmly seated.

“Please.” Stone held up a hand. “Speak slowly and softly.”

Kara struggled for a smooth breath.

“She-she’s leaving.”

“Who?” Stone asked, stiffly.

“The New One.”

Hadrian was afraid of that.

“I overheard her tell someone that she’s going away for Christmas. She’s leaving on Monday.”

Stone turned his hard glare on Hadrian. “Did you know this?”

“She said something about it the other day.”

Stone sighed deeply.

Kara was still dancing from one foot to the other. “But we need her right away. You can’t let her go.”

“What do you suggest I do, Kara?” Hadrian bit off. “Kidnap her? She needs to trust us.”

Stone pursed his lips, but didn’t offer any suggestions.

“The poor dear.” Kara sank into a chair. “She’s so young. I almost wish we could let her spend this one last Christmas with her family without knowing.”

“Her family?” Hadrian asked.

“That’s what she said.”

“She’s like us,” Hadrian pointed out.

“I assumed a family adopted her. Couldn’t it happen?”

“It never has before,” Jake said from the front counter. “We’re the castoffs. The unwanted. The unloved.”

“Thanks a lot, Jake,” Kara grumbled. “You make us all sound miserable.”

“We were...before Stone found us,” Jake pointed out.

“Well, I heard her talking about her Christmas plans. The New One didn’t sound the least bit miserable.”

Hadrian raised a brow at that. He and Stone had thoroughly researched her background and had watched her for several years. She was one of them.

“There’s no family,” Stone said.

“What is she up to?” Hadrian wondered aloud.

* * *

The third body in three days. The sight of the young woman lying face-up in the city flower garden churned in Newton’s stomach. He’d attended some of the most gruesome crime scenes without flinching. No matter how torn up the body, he could handle it.

But this...this was worse.

“She looked asleep,” the beat cop who found her said.

“Yep,” Newton agreed. Not even a hair out of place. It did look like she laid herself down in the snow-powdered bed and died. Only, she didn’t look dead. Even the skin tone looked healthy. It made his skin crawl.

He looked around for Hadrian Graham. But there was no sign of the cursed man of mystery this morning. For once, Newton wanted the bastard to show up. He had some questions for him.

“Does this look like a murder to you?” Newton asked the cop.

“No sir. Not at all, sir.”

“It doesn’t to me, either.” But Graham had said it was murder--at least that’s what he said of the first two bodies they’d found. And so that’s how the department was treating the deaths, despite the coroner’s reports insisting the cause of death was natural. The heart stopped beating. The organs stopped functioning. Everything stopped. And for no apparent reason.

Still, no sign of Graham.

“Perhaps this one is different,” Newton grumbled to himself. But deep down he knew he was wrong.

* * *

What a holly-jolly Christmas this was turning into. Holly sat on her luggage and propped her head up with her hands. Every single hotel was booked.

No room in the inn. Anywhere.

And no one was offering her a manger, which she would have gladly accepted since she’d rather sleep in the cold than return to her apartment and admit to her friends that she didn’t have anyone. That she’d never, ever had a “real” family Christmas.

Sure, the orphanage would always put up a tree, and presents would arrive from unnamed donors. But it wasn’t the same thing as waking up on Christmas morning in a fluffy bed that was in a safe, warm house, and with the knowledge that she was wanted. And loved.

Mary had Joseph.

Charlie Brown had Linus.

God, why couldn’t she grow up and accept the truth? She didn’t have a family. But she could be at Priscilla’s, enjoying the day with her three small kids. Or with Karen listening to her mother moan and complain about her ungrateful, unmarried daughter.

It wasn’t exactly pride that kept her from returning home, she realized. It was admitting that the fantasy wasn’t real. She wanted it to be real and was willing to go to great lengths to hold onto her beautiful Christmas image...even if it meant being miserable.

Night was falling. The sky was getting dark. The temperature dropping. And she had nowhere to go. No matter. She closed her eyes and pictured what her imaginary family would be doing right now.

Decorating the tree? Sipping on hot apple cider? Or perhaps simply enjoying each other’s company. As long as they were together, it didn’t matter.

What a wonderful vacation. She would have so many stories to share with her friends when she got back.

“I’m sorry, miss.” The doorman of the hotel that she was sitting in front of tapped her on the shoulder. “You cannot stay here.”

She slid to her feet. Pulling her luggage behind her, she headed toward the train station. If she was lucky, she’d find an empty bench to sleep on there.

* * *

It was hungry. So hungry. The meals weren’t satisfying anymore. The humans had changed. They were missing something. Something important.

The ancient spirit trudged down the road, rubbing at the ache in its belly, not at all sure what to do.

But what was that? Could it be? It sniffed the air and smelled the sweet, homey scent it craved.

A young woman was struggling with a suitcase as it bounced down the uneven sidewalk. The sweet scent was coming from her. Interesting...

It followed.

* * *

Christmas music was being piped onto the streets. Deck the Halls and Fa, La, La, La, La....Holly was ready to deck something. Fa, La, La, La, that.

Her suitcase tipped over again.

And again she had to stop, put the suitcase on its wheels before she could continue dragging her personal albatross down the street. Why had she packed so many clothes? This was insane.

She hadn’t gone but a few steps farther when the suitcase hit a deep rut and got stuck. Brilliant. It took some effort to pry the wheel from the crack in the walk. And she was getting colder by the minute.

When she started pulling it again, she ran straight into an arm. A healthy male arm.

“Need a hand?” Hadrian asked. He was leaning against the storefront and blocking her way. He smiled. It made her stomach do a little flip.

“I-I’m okay,” she said, and tried to push him out of her path. She didn’t trust him. He was too interested in her and that made her wary.

“I remember you saying you were going out of town.” His brow kicked up as he eyed her suitcase. “I didn’t realize you were walking.”

“I’m heading over to the train station,” she said.

“Really? That’s blocks from here. Let me drive you.”

Her throbbing feet wanted to scream, “yes!” She’d dragged her suitcase from one end of town to the next in search of a non-existent hotel room. Her feet didn’t want to take another step. Ever.

“I’m okay,” she said, much to her feet’s chagrin. But if he drove her to the train station, there was a good chance he would want to stay with her until her train left. And she had no ticket because she had nowhere to go, and what was she doing telling complete strangers about her fantasy trip home in the first place?

She pushed him out of the way and hauled herself forward. He caught the handle of her suitcase.

“You’re limping,” he said.

“I’m fine.” She tried to pry his hand loose.

“You’re exhausted.”

“I’m not.” His fingers wouldn’t budge.

“Are you afraid of me?”

Her gaze flashed up to his face. He looked harmless, but then so did many of the mass murderers caught in recent years.

“I’m being reasonably cautious,” she said, tugging at the handle with all her weight. “Let go of my suitcase or I’ll scream.”

He let go so fast she nearly toppled over.

“You know me, Holly.” He sounded so darn reasonable. “Deep in your heart, you know me. You know I’m not a threat to you.”

“Perhaps. But maybe I’m not a very good judge of people.”

He laughed.

“Goodbye Hadrian. Have a very merry Christmas.”

She stuck her chin in the air and hoped she looked as determined as she didn’t feel. Tears stung the backs of her eyes. This was her chance, perhaps her one chance to spend this Christmas with someone and not alone in a train station for the week.

She stopped, but didn’t turn around.

“What if I told you I didn’t have anywhere to go?” she asked the empty space in front of her.

“I’d ask what happened to your apartment,” he said.

“It’s a long story.”

“Hmmm...”

“It’s a stupid, long story,” she amended.

“There’s plenty of time to tell it, you know. It’s six days before Christmas.”

She wanted to laugh. But if she did, she’d probably end up crying. So she bit her lower lip.

“What should I do?” It was a desperate plea. A question framed more for herself than for anyone else.

Still, Hadrian answered. “Come to the café with me. Jake has a room upstairs. It’s not the Ritz, but it’s comfortable. And affordable.”

Both sounded like a blessing. She closed her eyes but not before a tear seeped out.

“Okay,” she whispered.

* * *

“It wasn’t an accident or an act of charity,” a man in his mid-thirties with premature white hair whom Hadrian had introduced as Frank Stone said to Holly.

She’d been gushing her gratitude to Jake, The Oblique Café manager, for letting her stay the week in the small apartment upstairs. It was a beautiful studio loft that was about twice the size of her apartment at about half the cost.

She still couldn’t image why she couldn’t find the café the other day. It was less than a block from her apartment. In fact, she could see her apartment window from the front door.

“You’re here, because you’re one of us,” Frank said. He sounded deadly serious.

She glanced around the café. A little more than a dozen faces were all staring at her. Silent. Watching.

“One of you?” She gave a nervous laugh. “This is just my luck. I’ve landed myself in a cult. I knew that apartment was too good to be true.”

She edged toward the door. “Thank you for your generous hospitality, but I’m not really cult material. I like to eat meat far too much. My mind wanders, so meditation is out. And, boy, don’t get me started about following the rules. I’m not very good at it.” She noticed Hadrian was following to the door. “You look so normal, too. A shame. But sorry. I’m more interested in sitting on a sofa and watching TV at night than attending weird cult meetings.”

“You don’t have to stay here,” Hadrian said, quietly. “I only brought you to the café, because you had nowhere else to go.”

“We’re not a cult, Holly,” Frank said.

“And why do you all know my name?” Her gaze bounced from face to face. Expressions that had looked friendly and inviting, now appeared suspicious. Dangerous.

“As soon as we realized that you were one of us, we started keeping watch to make sure the darkness didn’t consume--”

“Ho-K.” They’d been stalking her? She darted for the door. “I’m out of here.”

“You can’t push her like that,” she heard Hadrian scold. She didn’t care that he was defending her. She abandoned her luggage that had been put in the room upstairs and ran away...before getting to taste the chocolate croissants for a second time.

“We don’t have time, dammit. Her life’s already in grave danger,” Frank’s warning echoed in her ears.

* * *

Hadrian wanted to punch a wall. He’d lost her. This time he had no idea where she went. She’d left her warm coat, her suitcase, and her purse at the café.

She was scared. Obviously overwhelmed. And, for some unfathomable reason, unwilling to go back to her apartment. He wished he’d demanded she tell him why. What was she up to? What kind of trouble had she gotten herself into?

He’d followed her that morning, expecting go to the airport and expecting to have to pay whatever it took to get a ticket on whatever flight she was taking to wherever it was she was going. Instead of having to scramble at the airport, he’d watched her go from hotel to hotel all day, each one turning her away.

There was no family waiting for her, like Kara had overheard her saying. There was no one.

She was like them. But then, he already knew that.

Trouble was, she didn’t.

“Hey!” someone called out to Hadrian as he wandered through the park. Footsteps pounded behind him on the sidewalk. “Hey, wait up!”

He slipped his hands in his pockets and turned. Detective Newton trotted up to him.

“Another body was found this morning,” Newton said, breathing hard.

“I know,” Hadrian said.

“Then where were you?” Newton sounded like he wanted to pound his fist in Hadrian’s face.

Even so, Hadrian shrugged. “I had a more important matter to attend to.” He had to follow Holly around town--all the good that did. He still couldn’t believe he’d lost her.

Newton chewed on that for a moment and then grabbed Hadrian’s arm. “What’s killing these kids? Some kind of biological terrorism? An undetectable disease? I can read it in your eyes. I know you know.”

Hadrian calmly peeled Newton’s hand from his sleeve.

“Why the hell won’t you tell me?”

What could Hadrian say? What did the detective really want from him? The truth wouldn’t please him. He knew that much.

Newton was a good detective. And like all good detectives, he wanted things to be cut and dry. Easy.

“It’s hunting right now,” he told Newton the chilling truth. “Come morning, you’ll have another body. So far, the media has ignored the deaths. I doubt that’ll continue much longer.”

“Damn the media!” Newton shouted. “How do I stop him?”

Hadrian placed his hands on the detective’s shoulders and looked deeply into his frantic eyes. Newton relaxed.

“You don’t,” Hadrian said. He used his voice to push his power.

“What?” Newton blinked wildly, blocking all of Hadrian’s efforts to soothe him.

Admitting defeat, Hadrian stepped back. “No matter what you do, you can’t make it stop.” He jammed his hands back into his pockets. “Right now, no one can.”

* * *

She couldn’t go home. Holly wanted to, but they’d admitting to watching her, which meant they knew where she lived.

After getting away from that hellish café, she’d run all the way into the heart of the downtown. She stopped at the giant Christmas tree set up in front of the local department store. It was as tall as a building and lit up like a...well, like a Christmas tree. A gaudy, wonderful Christmas tree. Though she’d lived in the city for five years, this was the first time she’d come and seen the tree.

Underneath its branches a fantastic alpine village--all kid sized--was set up. There was a cobbler shop, a candy shop, a slide, and a miniature train. A live brass band pumped out happy Christmas tunes. And everyone appeared so bubbly, so content as they smiled at each other and made started pleasant conversations with strangers.

It made her think of Priscilla.

She found a payphone and dialed the number she knew by heart. Priscilla would understand...and would forgive the collect call.

The phone on the other end rang several times before clicking over to the answering machine. The operator quickly disconnected before Holly could leave a message. No big deal, she told herself. It wasn’t as if she could tell her friend to call her. Since she wasn’t staying anywhere, she didn’t have a phone number.

Holly shivered. The cold air was seeping through her sweater. She wasn’t running anymore and winter seemed to be making a strong statement.

She needed to learn to not leave things behind when she dashed out of places. It wasn’t as if she had a lot of experience running away from cults. Because she didn’t.

People generally didn’t notice her. While she wasn’t overly popular, she’d never been a loner. Didn’t cults target loners? And weirdoes?

Too bad, she’d rather liked the thought that Hadrian might have been interested in her romantically. It had made her feel all warm and tingly inside.

Oh well, she supposed she should go to the police and report him. A shame, really. He seemed like such a nice guy, too.

Like the village under the Christmas tree, the downtown police station was bustling with activity. Only here, no one was smiling or acting particularly polite.

After telling her story to the police officer manning the front desk, she was told to take a seat and wait. And wait. Over the next hour she drummed her fingers on the plastic chair’s arm and watched people come and leave. She supposed her case wasn’t an emergency, which was probably the reason for her longer waiting time. Finally, a man dressed in a plain blue suit came out.

“Miss Post?” he called as his gaze searched the room. “Miss Holly Post?”

Grateful to be free from the limbo of the police station waiting room, Holly leapt to her feet and warmly greeted the gentleman.

After introducing himself as Detective Leo Newton, he led her down a long hallway toward a small conference room. He told her to call him Newton.

Newton didn’t have a pad of paper, pen, or even a tape recorder. She thought it odd. Shouldn’t he be interested in recording her statement?

He offered for her to sit in one of the hard wooden chairs. She wished she hadn’t sat down, though, when he remained standing.

“The desk sergeant tells me you have a complaint against Hadrian Graham?” Newton said. He crossed his arms over his chest.

Holly nodded. “He’s been stalking me.”

Newton raised a brow at that. “Are you sure?”

“His friend told me that him and his buddies have been watching me for years.” It was still hard to believe.

“His friend?”

“Frank Stone. That’s what he’d said his name was.”

That name didn’t seem to register with Newton. She told him in great detail all about the strange café and how Hadrian had lured her to there not once but twice. The only detail she left out was her fantasy family trip.

“Shouldn’t you be taking notes?” Holly asked. It almost seemed as if he wasn’t listening.

“He’s stalking me, and I’ve run away from him. Who knows what he might do the next time he finds me.” She huffed a breath. “I hate to admit it, detective, but I’m scared. I’m too scared to go home.”

Newton propped his shoe on a chair and leaned his elbow on his knee. “Miss Post, I’ve worked with Hadrian Graham for the past five years. He’s many things--like irritatingly enigmatic and a pain in my ass--but I assure you, he is not dangerous.”

“Not dangerous!” She launched out of her seat. “How can you know that? He’s involved in some kind of cult. They were trying to make me one of them. It was creepy.” And she didn’t have anywhere to go, at least not until she could get in touch with Priscilla or Karen. “Don’t you people have safe houses for cases like these?”

“Please, Miss Post, calm down.” Newton swung open the door. It looked as if the interview was over. He took her arm and led her down the hall. “I understand your concern. But I assure you, it’s unfounded. I don’t know who Hadrian works for, but I can tell you it’s not a cult. My guess? He’s with the federal government. CIA, perhaps? If he’s trying to recruit you, you might consider listening to what he’s got to say.” He crooked a finger in front of her nose. “Think of it as your patriotic duty, Miss Post.”

* * *

Her patriotic duty? Pulh-leaze.

Holly beat her hands against her chilly arms as she plodded down the street. She supposed she should go back to her apartment. It was the only logical thing to do since neither Priscilla nor Karen were home.

She could put up a small tree and decorate it. She’d never done that before. It could be fun.

On the way home, she passed the spot where The Oblique Café should have been. It wasn’t there. She wasn’t surprised.

Could Hadrian be working for the CIA? Nah. That just seemed too comic book for Holly to believe. Besides, her life was boring. No one would be interested in recruiting her for anything...other than perhaps a cult or to make a charitable contribution. Why hadn’t she thought of that before? They might be working for a charity. But, then again, that didn’t explain the disappearing café.

“Excuse me,” a raggedly dressed man tapped her on the shoulder. Holly jumped.

“Oh! You startled me. I d-don’t have any money,” she said. He smelled amazingly fresh for a homeless man. “I lost my purse, you see. Otherwise, I’d...”

He took a step closer. “I’m awfully hungry.”

She tried to back away from him, but she seemed to be frozen in place. Terror coursed through her.

“So very hungry.” His strange, low voice rumbled through her body.

She tried to open her mouth. Tried to scream. Nothing happened.

He kept moving closer. She could feel his belly touch hers. His hands pressed against her cheeks.

“So very, very hungry,” he whispered.

Holly noticed several people passing by her on the street. No one bothered to look in her direction. They just rushed by as if she’d become invisible.

“Hmmm...” A smile spread across his greasy lips. He flicked out his long, narrow tongue and licked her across her mouth. “You’ll fill me up quite nicely.”

* * *

A near-blinding headache struck Hadrian. He covered his eyes with his hands and sucked in a deep breath.

“What is it?” Kara asked. After a long, unsuccessful search for Holly, they had all gathered back at the café to discuss what to do next.

“It’s close,” Hadrian said as he tried to fight his way through the incapacitating pain. “And it’s feeding.”

“You can feel it?” Jake asked.

“Can’t you?” He couldn’t be the only one of them so closely connected to it. That wouldn’t make sense...or be fair. Not that he wanted his friends to be in pain. Not like this.

“You have to block it out,” Stone warned. “Or else it will sense you. Hunt you.”

“I can’t.” Cradling his head, Hadrian sank into a chair. “I can’t.”

He vaguely heard Stone biting off a string of instructions to the others. Soon, a frosty dishcloth was pressed to his head. Another was laid across the back of his neck.

“Concentrate,” Stone said. He placed three smooth stones in the palm of Hadrian’s hand and closed his fist around them. “Squeeze.” The stones were fiery hot. They burned.

Hadrian wanted to drop them. They were searing into his skin. But Stone kept his fist trapped between his hands.

“Concentrate,” Stone demanded.

Steadily, the stabbing ache in his head was pushed away, replaced by the throbbing heat in his palm. And that’s when it happened. That’s when he understood.

“It’s got her.”

* * *

Everything was fading from gray to black. Holly felt light, though. Like she was floating. Floating away. She could barely see the man who was holding her anymore. And the city sounds all around her were muffled. Blurred. She didn’t mind. It was kind of peaceful that way.

“Stop.” The command cut through the haze. As did Hadrian. While the world all around him was gray and unfocused, he was in full color as he pulled the ragged man off her. “Be gone.”

The ragged man hissed and slashed out at Holly as if his hands were a pair of claws, but Hadrian blocked him.

“Be gone,” he repeated. The raw power in his voice sent a shiver down Holly’s spine. The ragged man must have felt it too. Though he hissed again, he raised his arm over his face and backed away, disappearing into the darkness.

Only then did Holly realize Hadrian’s arm was wrapped around her waist and that he was supporting her.

“Can you hear me?” he asked.

“Cold,” she whispered.

“Can you hear me?” he asked again as calmly and as patiently as the first time.

She nodded. Slowly. Carefully.

“Good.”

He shrugged out of his heavy overcoat and wrapped it around her shoulders. Its heat...his heat...enveloped her. It gave her an uncommon urge to snuggle up against Hadrian. Before she knew it, she was doing just that.

“We really need to get you off the street,” he said. “Do you think you can walk or do you need me to carry you?”

She wasn’t sure. In fact, she wasn’t even sure if she was up to answering him with more than a nod, and since he hadn’t asked a yes or no question this time a nod wouldn’t do.

She wiggled her toes. They seemed to be working.

“Walk,” she whispered. Oh good, her voice was working. She a