“Good luck, Detective,” the little robot warbles and rolls out of the way.The car glides past it and increases speed.
It’s official.I’ve put my trust in a self-driving car to escape a billionaire who’s obsessed with me.What is my life?
At my feet is an insulated container that turns out to hold food—breakfast burritos with salsa verde.There’s a second container with fresh cinnamon buns and a thermos of hot coffee.At least I’ll be able to eat my feelings.
I did enjoy the concept of being taken care of before Rex went too far.
I can’t lose you,he told me.You won’t let me in.You condemn yourself to being alone.
He’s right.But I am who I need to be.
“I’m sorry, Rex,” I whisper and settle in for the long drive.
7
Inara
The closer Iget to New Rome, the more I sense the darkness waiting for me.The pressure is like an oppressive blanket coating my senses.
The killer is waiting for me.
For the longest time, the car races at record speeds along a narrow tunnel.When it emerges, I’m in the warehouse district north of the city center.Dawn is breaking.
I made record time.Rex must have had a secret tunnel built connecting his mansion and the city for his own personal use.Because, of course, he did.
I reprogram the car to swing by my townhouse first.The Bondage Killer delivered the letters there.I want to see what my senses pick up.
When the car self-parks in front of my place, I half expect to see a dead body on the stoop.There’s a sense that something horrible is waiting for me inside.
I approach carefully, my psychic senses screaming at me.There’s a fist around my chest, making it hard to breathe.
I open my door and choke on an awful scent.
At first I think I’m imagining it, but no, it’s real.My floor has disappeared, blotted out with the glossy black of broken wings.Covering my floor, as far as I can see, are hundreds of dead birds.
I stagger, and bones crunch underfoot.The wind races in and raises a flurry of feathers, shiny as a deadly oil slick.
The Bondage Killer was here.Again.He knows where I live.I can sense his presence—the perverse glee, the longing, the hate.My throat has closed, and my head throbs.My legs wobble, so I hunch over and crouch, curling into a ball.I raise shaking hands to cover my eyes and my ears, overwhelmed by the evil battering at my psychic senses.
I don’t know how long I sit there, reeling.I only know I wish Rex was here.He’d lift me in his arms, clear of the bodies, and carry me away.His presence would shelter me from the psychic barrage.He has his own darkness, but it’s safe and warm, a shelter instead of an assault.
But then he’d lock me away in a cage.My only source of comfort is gone.
My phone rings, cutting through the buzzing sound in my ears.I answer it automatically before I notice that it’s an unknown caller.
“Detective Ramos,” the silken voice with a slight rasp on the line is familiar.I try to place it but can’t before the caller says, “This is St.James.Are you hurt?”
“What?No.What do you want?”
“I’ve been informed that you’re back in the city, but your life is in danger.”
“Informed?By who?”Everything’s happening so quickly that I can’t keep up.
“Hamish wants me to keep an eye on you.He cannot assure your safety anymore.But I can.”
Hamish spoke to St.James?Why?“What’s going on?”
“Listen carefully because we don’t have much time.Rex is already on his way to you.”
