Survivor in Death (In Death 20)

“I’d say your ideas get better and—” She broke off, and sprinted when she heard Nixie scream.

6

SHE DIDN’T KNOW WHICH ROOM, SO COULD ONLY race toward the sounds of a child screaming. At a turn in the corridor, Roarke passed her. She kicked in so together they shot through an open door.

The bedroom was washed by soft light. The bed was a four-poster with a mountain of pillows and a lacy white spread. Someone—Summerset, she imagined—had placed yellow flowers, cheerful and bright, on a table by the window. As she bolted in, Eve nearly tripped over the cat, who was either in retreat or on guard.

In the middle of the sumptuous bed, the little girl sat, her arms lifted and crossed over her face as she shrieked as if someone was waling on her with a hammer.

Roarke reached Nixie first. Later Eve would think it was because he was used to dealing with a female in the grip of nightmares, while she was simply used to having them.

He plucked Nixie straight up and into his arms, holding her, stroking her, and saying her name even when she struggled and slapped at him.

Eve had yet to speak or decide what best to do, when the elevator on the far wall whizzed open, and Summerset strode out.

“Natural,” he said. “Expected.”

“Mommy.” Exhausted from the fight, Nixie let her head drop on Roarke’s shoulder. “I want my mommy.”

“I know, yes, I know. I’m sorry.”

Eve saw him turn his head to brush his lips over Nixie’s hair. That, too, seemed natural. Expected.

“They’re coming to get me. They’re coming to kill me.”

“They’re not. It was a dream.” Roarke sat, Nixie curled in his lap. “A very bad dream. But you’re safe here, as you can see. With me, and the lieutenant and Summerset.”

He patted the bed, and the cat gathered his porky self and leaped up nimbly. “And here, here’s Galahad as well.”

“I saw the blood. Is it on me?”

“No.”

“We’ll get a soother in her.” Opening a wall panel, Summerset pressed buttons on a mini AutoChef. “She’ll be the better for it. Here now, Nixie, you’ll drink this for me, won’t you?”

She turned her face into Roarke’s shoulder. “I’m afraid in the dark.”

“It’s not very dark, and we’ll have more lights if you like.” Roarke ordered them up another ten percent. “Is that better, then?”

“I think they’re in the closet,” she whispered, and her fingers dug into his shirt. “I think they’re hiding in the closet.”

That, Eve thought, was something she could do. She went directly to the closet, opened it, did a complete search while Nixie watched her.

“Nobody can get into this place,” she spoke flatly. “Nobody can get past us. That’s the way it is. It’s my job to protect you. That’s what I’ll do.”

“What if they kill you?”

“A lot of people have tried. I don’t let them.”

“Because you’re a major butt-kicker.”

“You bet your ass. Drink the soother.”

She waited, watched, while Nixie drank, while Summerset took over. He sat on the bed, talking to the child in a quiet voice until her eyes began to droop.

And waiting, watching, Eve felt raw and scraped inside. She knew what it was to be chained in nightmares where something unspeakable came for you. The pain and the blood, the fear and the agony.

Even after it was over, the dregs of it stained the edges of your mind.