Sunrise in a Garden of Love & Evil (11 page)

With a dazzlingly abrupt shift of gears, Ophelia perched on the edge of the chaise lounge, unsnapped her garters, and rolled her stockings deliberately down her tanned, shapely legs and off her toes. She picked them up between thumb and forefinger and carried them to a silver trash basket by the screen. "Help yourself, if you're into souvenirs. I don't see any barf on them." She let the stockings fall.

Gideon felt blood crawl up his face. "No, thanks."

Ophelia disappeared behind the screen, which Gideon now saw was decorated with Oriental erotica. No surprise. A few seconds later, her black teddy flew over the top. "If you don't want the teddy, I suppose I could give it to Plato. He'll get off on it for weeks."

He would not let her get to him. Gideon struggled between something akin to fury and the urge to grab the flimsy black fabric and bury his face in it, risking the smell of vomit for one whiff of Ophelia. When he knew he could control his voice, he said, "What's your arrangement with Art?"

He watched her feet at the bottom of the screen: Underwear on. Shorts. A few seconds later, she came out carrying her socks and sneakers, sat on the chaise again. "If I don't tell you, I suppose you'll go harass her."

"Reluctantly, yes, I will do exactly that. I'd rather not jeopardize my already-shaky relationship with my sister by giving her the third degree, but you leave me no choice."

"Oh, so you're not looking for a relationship with me, then," Ophelia said. "You're just harassing me for a quickie. What a relief. Nothing to jeopardize. Of course, you won't get the quickie, either, but at least your emotions aren't involved." She jerked her sock straight and shoved one foot into a shoe. "I hope the lucky girl who gets the vibrator also gets a better deal."

"Ophelia," Gideon said gently, and she threw him a hot glare and looked away again, tugging on the second sock. He said, "I can pussyfoot around with my sister and try not to hurt her feelings. I can't and won't do that with you. The vibrator is yours and you know it. Now, please tell me what's going on."

Ophelia tied her second shoe and let out an exaggerated sigh. "First thing in the morning, she's going to take pictures of some gardens I did, complete with signage, to finish the roll and show the blackmailer where I'm vulnerable. I'm going to stop by her school to pick up the film and drop it off at the print and photo shop." She stood up. "Will that do?"

"It's a mite obvious, but worth a try. How does he contact his victims?"

"By mail. Art said it was a computer-generated fill-in-the-blanks form letter. She's supposed to put the money in the kind of envelope you put film in and leave it in the night drop."

"He's not worried about being caught." Gideon's eyes strayed toward her teddy. "You're not really going to give it to Plato, are you?"

Ophelia scooped the garment up. "Of course not. It belongs to Vi. Now, go."

C
HAPTER
T
EN

Half a mile from home, Ophelia realized the car behind her was Gideon's. He really wouldn't give up so easily. He wouldn't give up at all. A surge of longing and despair took such hold that she could no longer control the tears she'd battled the whole drive home. She had the best of reasons to suck this cop into her web, to attach him so firmly that...
No.
She couldn't. She liked him far too much. She had to keep pushing him away.

Flicking away the tears, she turned into her driveway. Psyche bounded before the headlights to hover under the porch. Ophelia turned off her truck and in one quick movement got out, gripping her shotgun tightly so she wouldn't shake.

Gideon left the headlights on and the engine running, got out, and held the door open for his dog. "Put the gun away, Ophelia." He walked calmly toward her. "It's only me."

"I know who it is." Ophelia's voice broke, and a tear spilled treacherously down her cheek. "Go away!"

"Sweetheart--"

"Don't call me that! I am not sweet."

She watched Gideon control himself and start again. "I will leave in a minute. I brought Gretchen to stay with you. She's good company, and she'll warn you if there's any danger."

"There is no danger I can't handle myself." How had he come up with such a blessed idea
?
"Take your dog and go home." Ophelia bit down hard, piercing her lip, ignoring the blood, fighting tears, wanting the dog like crazy. She felt so alone.

Anguish in his voice, Gideon said, "Ophelia, don't cry. Honey, you can't think I'd harass you after what you've been through tonight."

"You
are
harassing me," she choked out. "I am not honey. I am poison. Get the hell away." She sniffled hard, clutching her shotgun, and Gretchen trotted up and stuck a cool nose under her other hand. Ophelia's fingers moved by instinct toward the dog's curls, but she yanked her hand away, clenching and unclenching her fist, needing and wanting the animal so much it hurt. "Gretchen doesn't want to stay with me. She's yours. Take her and go away."

"I discussed it with her on the ride over, and she agreed to stay with you."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard in my life." Ophelia cocked the shotgun hammer, but it didn't have the intended effect--Gideon just stood there. She added, "Get off my property and don't come back."

Gideon swore under his breath. "Stupid or not, Gretchen is staying with you." As if on cue, the dog planted her butt on the drive.

"Damn it, Gideon!" Ophelia let out a scream of rage and fired, kicking up gravel far too close to Gideon's feet. He didn't flinch. He didn't move a goddamn hair. "Don't you get it?" she yelled. "I'm trying to protect you from yourself. I am not safe!"

"That's the stupidest thing I ever heard in my life," Gideon echoed in bitter mockery. "You could at least come up with an intelligent lie."

Ophelia opened her mouth but shut it again. Pissing him off was what she wanted.

Still, the disgust in his voice tore into her. "Don't worry. I'm out of here, and I won't come back unless you need me. Stay, Gretchen. Stay with Ophelia." Gideon got in his car and backed into the turnaround, flinging his last words through the window. "What makes you think I give a damn about being safe?"

The dream came as it always did, hard and fast and exploding with fangs and the intoxicating, horrifying smell of human blood. But this time a dog's shrill whine cut through the dream and Ophelia jolted awake, fangs out, hands curled into claws, as Psyche hissed from a corner and Gretchen whimpered and shoved at her, then skittered away. Ophelia sucked in a deep, sobbing breath and found herself bathed, as always, not in blood, but in sweat and tears.

She sat up, her head throbbing. The light was on. She had cried herself to sleep on the carpet with Gretchen huddled next to her--a frightening sign, since never in the last few years had she shed more than a tear or two, except in her dreams, or slept anywhere except showered and clean in her bed. She had been in control. And now she wasn't.

She began to rebuild control, first with a shower, then with tea and cheese toast shared with the cat and dog. She climbed into bed and buried her feet under Gretchen's flank. If Gideon kept sticking his nose into her business, she'd keep distracting him, with sex as a last resort. If Gideon were her lover, Leopard and Constantine wouldn't harm him no matter what. He'd be safe. Except from her.

Every which way, things looked bad. But while she didn't have a hope in hell of controlling random events and people, she could at least try to control herself. And who knew? She might, as Violet suggested, get some excellent sex before everything blew up in her face. On that dubiously cheerful thought, she snuggled gratefully next to Gretchen and forced herself back to sleep.

"You'll never guess what happened last night," Artemisia said the following morning. She stood outside the high-school art room, glowing in the sunshine. Softer and sexier. Transformed.

"What?" Ophelia knew what was coming.

"Gideon called me."

Okay, so she didn't know. "He wasn't supposed to harass you!"

"He
apologized
to me, Ophelia. He said he'd been a poor excuse for a brother and that we should spend more time together." She bit her lip. "You must have said something to him."

"A little," Ophelia admitted.

"It almost killed me not to tell him you're a vamp. Guess what?" Art said.

Here it came. "What? Where's the film? I have to get going."

Art fished the film out of the pocket of her smock. "I
really
like Constantine. How can people believe he's a murderer?"

Ophelia said nothing, because there was no acceptable answer that was also the truth.

Fortunately, Art was perfectly ready to do the talking. "He was so sweet to me last night, even though I blabbed my whole life story to him. He says my ex was a frigid prig and that I'm a lovely, sensual woman. He says if I want Dar, I should go sweep him off his feet."

"Dar?"

"The black guy who was with that horrible woman last night. He's a friend of Gideon's. I had a huge crush on him in high school, but I was already going out with Steve then, and in any case Dad would never have let me date a black guy. But now I can do exactly as I please, except that it wouldn't be right to steal him from another woman. Except that she's married to someone else, unless he's dead, but either way, it's not right to poach. And she's gorgeous and sexy, and I'm only his friend's little sister..." She trailed off, flushing. "Guess what?"

Finally.

Art leaned closer. "Constantine gave me an orgasm!" She blushed fiercely red. "It's not like it sounds. I didn't sleep with him. He just touched me, and boom!"

Ophelia smiled. "He's good at energy manipulation. He must like you."

"Or feel sorry for me," Art said philosophically. "He said he did it to prove to me that I was sexy, which makes no sense, because he was the one who made it happen, but you know what? I really
feel
sexy now. He says Dar kept looking at me, and that the other woman was only sexy on the outside, and she was screwing even that up by being such a bitch." Uneasiness crossed her face. "He said she won't be in town long, but how can he possibly know that? He sort of scared me for a bit, but then he was sweet again, and he made me give him my number."

Damn. What was Constantine planning?

"Anyway, I've decided to at least
try
for Dar, but I wish I hadn't done the nude modeling. What if Dar finds out?"

"If he minds about the modeling," Ophelia said, "he's not worth a minute of your time."

"But--"

"No buts. I don't know why you even considered paying the blackmailer. What about the drawings the students made of you? You have no control over what happens to those, any more that you have over the photos. You're already out there. Just forget the whole thing."

Art looked dubious, but then Gretchen appeared from foraging in the school grounds and nuzzled her. "That's Gideon's dog!"

"He loaned her to me," said Ophelia flatly.

"Gideon loaned you
Gretchen
? She's his absolute favorite dog. He says she's the only woman he can talk to." Art grinned. "I thought he'd given up on sleeping with you. He told me you said no."

"It's never that simple," Ophelia said.

In the print and photo shop, Ophelia resisted punching the slime wearing a Constantine T-shirt and focused on being an innocent, friendly dupe. Such a small shop couldn't have more than three or four employees, and this guy was here in the morning to open the night drop. He probably lived in the apartment overhead; he'd appeared via the stairs in the back room when she'd come into the store.

She handed in the film she had picked up from Art and paid for some prints she had ordered a few days before. "That'll be seven sixty-three," the slime said, playing with his tongue ring. A strand of dirty blond hair caught at the edge of his mouth. "Nice flower pictures. Did you take them?"

"Yeah, I'm a landscaper, and those are some of the gardens I did," Ophelia said politely. You never knew what might drum up business, although she wouldn't touch this creep with a fifty-foot hose. She handed him a ten-dollar bill and his fingers touched hers.
Eew.

"I bet you photograph real well, ma'am," he said slowly, with a widening leer. "You're quite a flower all on your own."

"Fuck off, asshole." So much for friendly and innocent. This did not bode well for success at self-control.

"Don't even
think
about her, if you value your life." Donnie Donaldson ambled up to the counter. "Ophelia wields a mean shotgun."

Crap. Why had he shown up now? "Hey, Donnie."

Donaldson grinned. "Saw you pull it on that cop last night."

"Donnie, you're such an old woman, peeking out the window at your neighbors."

"Nothing else to do. Think he'll stay away? He's got plenty of guts, I have to say that for him. He didn't budge when you shot at him."

Ophelia shrugged as if it didn't matter. "He said he wouldn't come back. He knows I'm not interested."

"Why'd he give you the dog, then?"

Shit. Ophelia rolled her eyes. "I'm thinking of buying her from him," she improvised. "She's a great dog. Well, I gotta go."
And get out of here before my plan is totally screwed.

"That hot little cunt shot at a
cop
?" The slime's lascivious voice pursued her out the door. "Man, I could use a shot at her!"

That afternoon in the middle-school art room, Joanna Wyler tiptoed to the table where Zelda was snipping pictures from magazines. She whispered, "Shawanda's not here, so can I sit with you?"

"You can sit with me even when Shawanda
is
here." Zelda scooted her stool over. "There's room for three."

"Thanks," Joanna muttered, "but Shawanda scares me to death." She set her own magazines down.

"You'll have to stop being a wimp if you want to hang with me," Zelda said. "If that really is what you want to do." The scissors flew through and around a garden, and roses littered the table. She fixed a challenging gaze on her would-be friend. "What's the deal?"

Joanna flipped jerkily through the top magazine in her pile. "I need advice."

"From me?" Zelda grinned evilly. "First thing, no more preppy button-down shirts." Joanna reddened, looking so miserable that Zelda took pity. "Just joking. What you wear is your business. Or your mother's, in this case. But what kind of advice can you possibly want from me?" She handed a pair of scissors to Joanna. "We'd better look busy. Cut some stuff out."

Joanna started snipping at random. In a low voice, she said, "I need advice about sex."

Zelda struggled to ignore a surge of fury; she might not care whether she turned out to be a vamp, but she absolutely refused to inherit her mother's temper. She hadn't tamped it down quickly enough, judging by the alarm in Joanna's eyes. "Wait till tomorrow," she said evenly. "Shawanda knows more than me. She's older. She's done it."

"I'm sorry." Joanna cut jaggedly around the fork in a silverware ad, her hands trembling. "Your Mom has a club, so I thought...God, I'm such a loser. I can't say anything right."

Zelda put out a hand to pat Joanna's. "Calm down. I'm not pissed off at you, and even if I was, what does it matter? I'd still be your friend." She tore out a page of daisies.

"Thanks." Joanna's whisper was barely audible. "I didn't mean you were sleeping around. I didn't mean your mom's a whore or anything awful like that. But you're different, and my friends are so useless. Some of them have had sex, but they're all such...such..."

"Sheep?" Zelda suggested. Daisies carpeted the roses.

Joanna let out a hysterical giggle and clamped her hand over her mouth. "Uh-huh, and you can't trust grownups, and--"