Chapter 15

Corrigan’s POV

I only realize how poorly planned my escape was when I am sure I am out of sight. It is dark already. I have Lucien’s card, but I can’t use it because he would track it. I have absolutely no where to go.

Even if I did want to return to the hotel, I would get lost. I have no phone, practically no money, nowhere to go, and no one I know. For the fifth time today, I cursed Lucien

.

I look around. I am on a street that I don’t recognize, standing against a graffiti covered wall, staring out towards the road. The sight of cars makes me both nervous and hopeful.

I know that Lucien is looking for me. If word gets out that his mistress got away from him, hunting me would be more of a reputation thing than a revenge thing. He would definitely kill me.

I want to hitch a ride, but I want to be cautious too. It would be pointless going this far just to be taken back to Lucien, or worse, killed by someone else.

“Hello?” I hear a voice close to me.

I start, my claws unsheathing instinctively. I turn to see a pleasant faced man standing beside me.

He is handsome, almost painfully so, like a too-sweet candy bar would hurt your teeth. He has glasses on, giving him an almost scholarly air. I step back. He notices my defensiveness and smiles politely. I am a bit warmed by his kindness, buy only a bit.

“Are you new here?” He asks, his smile still in place.

“Yeah…I don’t do…that.” I say.

“Oh, I know you’re not a hooker.” He says.

“What do you want?” I ask suspiciously in my best “fuck off” tone.

“I was going to my car.” He explains. “I noticed you standing on the sidewalk. You’ve been here for almost an hour.”

“You’ve been sitting in your car for almost an hour?” I ask sarcastically.

“No. I work at an antiques store.” He points to a store on the other side of the street. I can see the “Closed” sign on the door. There are a few vases and ornaments on display by the windows.

“Would you like to come in for tea?” he asks.

“So I wonder, what are you doing on the sidewalk?” Carter—he told me his name as he opened up the store and turned on the lights—asks.

I bite on another biscuit, swallowing before talking. “I…I got a bit…I lost my way.”

He nods, not seeming to buy my story but letting it go all the same. He is wiping dust off some vases that look spotless and I watch him. The store is a bit study and cold and has a bit of a musty smell to it but I don't tell him this.

I am grateful that he has given me shelter for the night without asking anything in return. And fed me. I don't want to push my luck by asking to freshen up in the bathroom.

“Would you like to tell me where you left? I’m sure I could give directions.” He says helpfully.

Yeah, I think sarcastically, I would love nothing more than going back to Lucien so he could kill me.

I hesitate and a knowing look enters his eyes. “Of course.” He says calmly, clearing the plates away. I look up at him.

“You're not going to take me back, are you?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Why would I?”

“Does your boss mind my being here?” I ask, wiping my hands down my skirt.

“The owner has never had a problem with letting beautiful ladies take shelter in his establishment.”

I nod. “Thank you.”

He drops off the dishes in the dishwasher and dries his hands with a towel. I wonder what he is. He doesn't seem like a werewolf, and I can’t think of anything else he could be.

Third Person POV

Carter is a Doppler.

Carter looks at Corrigan, his latest donor. He is a bit sad to do this to her. He likes her a bit. However, he likes her face even more. He would like to wear such a beautiful likeness. The high cheekbones, the green eyes and the red hair were enough to make Carter salivate.

He had worn the female likeness before, but he had quickly tired of the parts. He would enjoy having so much beauty in one face.

He was tired of his present form. A mixture of some odd parts thrown together by different people. He has to be careful, he knows. She is a werewolf, much stronger than he is and he knows about her little liaison with Lucien Blackthorn of Gold Rose Hotel. Some customers come into the store and that is all they can talk about.

Carter owns the store, but he prefers to let people believe that the store is owned by an elderly man named “Fraser” who is never in but changes assistants regularly.

He knows that if Blackthorn finds out about her, he’d either come save her from being killed, or—in the event that he is too late to do so—kill Carter himself. Carter thinks. Maybe he could hold off using Corrigan’s entire face for the time being. Maybe use only the ears or the eyes.

He is annoyed at having to hold off using Corrigan’s whole face. Why did other species have to view beauty in such a carnal way? Why not enjoy it? Covet it?

Take it?

He opens up the cabinet in the kitchen, smiling to himself when he sees the jars containing preservatives and parts.

A few floating ears and noses and eyes. Such good memories. Today, he would have Corrigan’s. If his calculations were correct, she would be falling under the effects of the wolfsbane soon. He needed her weak enough to be subdued, but alive. Very much alive.

As though on cue, he hears the crash of a body falling to the floor and smiles. Perfect.

Corrigan’s POV

I realize I've been drugged when I begin to feel my eyes drooping. An almost oppressive drowsiness comes over me, making it hard to even stay upright. I look towards the door Carter just walked into, trying to get my claws to unsheathe.

They don’t. It feels like Crystal has left me completely. Gotten locked up in some part of me that I can't reach. I try to fight the weakness, knowing I’m losing the fight, anyway. My eyes close of their own accord, and my body sways.

I fall to the floor and I try to pry my eyes open. I see Carter standing over me, a sick smirk on his face.

When I wake up, I am tied to a chair in what I suppose is a sort of personal sanctuary for him. It is a dark room filled up with shelves and cabinets and jars. It’s too dark to see the content of the jars. I see his silhouette by a shelf, arranging some of his jars and wiping them off.

“You’re awake.” He mutters, turning to me.

“What do you want from me? Money?” I demand.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Nothing quite as fleeting as money.”

He flicks on a switch, illuminating the whole room. Then I see what is in the jars.

Parts. Face parts. Floating in jars like pickles. My eyes widen and I force myself not to throw up. There are almost ten different shelves, seven foot tall and six foot wide, filled with jars of face parts. I don't even want to see what is in those cabinets.

Carter stands amidst all of it, the proud lord over his sick collection.

“What are you?” I ask, fearing that I already know the answer.

His face morphs, his skin turning pale and scaly, his eyes become like those of a reptile and his teeth grow in rows, giving him a wide, sinister gape. He is a doppler.

“Take a guess.”

Lucien’s POV

I get a whiff of Corrigan’s scent on one of the streets about five miles away from the hotel. It's tiny, almost completely hidden, but it is there all the same. She must have gotten too tired to mask it as she got to the end of the day.

My hands tighten on the steering wheel. I want to throttle her for putting me through this.

“I’m getting something.” I say to Cormac. He had jumped in the car beside me at the last moment to help me find Corrigan. “It's her scent.”

I turn off the ignition and get out of the car. I don't turn, but I hear Cormac get out of the car too. The street is almost empty. There are a few cars, less pedestrians and less businesses still open. The scent is almost dead.

Almost.

I follow it the best I can, trying not to think about the fact that I can perceive it while Cormac can’t. The trail leads us to a store on the other side of the road. The “Closed” part is turned.Corrigan's scent seems to get even more potent.

“It's closed.” Cormac says.

“But she's in there. That's what matters.”

I raise my fist and bang on the door.