Dreams for the Dead Read Online Free Page A

settled on her as he dropped the mangled phone pieces to the ground.
    “Oh, shit,” she muttered.
    Dawn had never fainted in her life, but she thought she was about to as he stalked toward her with dubious intent. She was breathing so quickly her vision grayed. Her brain was sending signals of danger but the rest of her wasn’t cooperating. Her legs weakened and her sight went fully black. She never even felt herself hit the ground.
     
    ~
     
    It was still dark when she opened her eyes. She didn’t think she’d been out for long. She was riding in the front seat of a car and the black-haired guy was driving. They were still in the city, not far from the apartment, but she couldn’t figure out what direction they were heading.
    “Where are you taking me?” Dawn asked. Her voice was slightly hoarse.
    “My father’s house,” the man said brightly.
    Dawn frowned and looked ahead. She wouldn’t make trouble. She wouldn’t give them a reason to want to hurt her before she figured out what they’d done with Leila.
    The house was hidden in an old neighborhood of custom homes built in the sixties or seventies Dawn had never even seen b efore. The man pulled into a driveway and stopped before an iron gate set into a white stucco wall that probably surrounded the whole property. He rolled down the window to punch in a code that sent the gate rolling open, and they continued up the long, curving drive.
    Somewhat unexpectedly, the property was lush and green, scores of trees and rosebushes sca ttered across the perfectly manicured lawn. Someone didn’t care about water conservation. A jungle of palms, oleander, red birds of paradise, and fragrant honeysuckle surrounded the house, shielding it from view until the car was right in front of it. It was smooth and white and geometric, low and sprawled. The windows had black shutters. Malachite-green tiles covered the sloping roof. The double front doors were black, gleaming as if wet. Despite its outdated architecture, the house seemed to have aged well.
    “Get out,” the man said.
    Dawn remained in her seat as he got out and walked around to her door. He flung it open, causing her to flinch, and grabbed hold of her arm. He wasn’t gentle as he jerked her up, but he said nothing as he steered her toward the house.
    Why didn’t I run? Why didn’t I just try ?
    Because she knew it would have been useless.
    They entered into a quiet, blue-tiled foyer so empty there was a faint echo. The ceiling was low. Expensively framed but bland landscape paintings adorned the plain white walls. Rounded doorways led off to other rooms. To the right, long purple curtains marked the entrance to what looked like a darkened family room.
    “Branek. You’re home.”
    She didn’t hear the sound of footsteps on the tiled floor, but suddenly a man was standing in front of them. A cold man, Dawn thought. It was as appropriate a description for him as any. He was tall and narrow, with ice-hued hair and slitted eyes the color of molten lead. He was still as fallen snow.
    “I’ve brought something,” her kidnapper—Branek—said.
    “A new toy?”
    “She’s a friend of Jared’s new one. She was going to call the police.”
    The cold man’s eyes froze her in place. “Foolish. Why did you bring her here? Why did you not just kill her?”
    “Would you prefer her dead?”
    “No.”
    The third, passionless voice rang out through the room. Dawn glanced around until she saw a lean, familiar form lounging in one of the doorways. It was Tristan. He looked even paler than he had last night at the bar, his deep brown hair stark against his skin. Dark blue half circles underscored his eyes, sugges ting a lack of sleep. Or drugs.
    “I want to play with her,” he said.
    A chill shivered through Dawn. This would not end well for her.
    “It’s been a long time since you took an interest in having a toy,” the cold man said.
    Tristan’s eyes flicked over her with disinterest. “Has it?”
    “I