Dead Perfect

She nodded.

“Why don’t you take a shower?” he suggested. “I’ll go down to the gift shop and see if I can find you something to wear.”

“All right.”

She thought about what Ronan had said while she showered. His words made sense. They even made her feel a little bit better. And yet she couldn’t help feeling that she was forgetting something that had happened just before the crash, something important that remained just out of her reach. Something to do with Ronan…

With a shake of her head, she turned off the water in the shower, dried off, and wrapped herself in a towel.

A moment later, there was a knock on the bathroom door. She opened it a crack to see Ronan on the other side, a large plastic shopping bag in his hand.

He handed her the sack. “I think you’ll find everything you need inside.”

“Thank you.”

After closing the door, she delved into the bag, removing a pair of jeans, a T-shirt and a sweatshirt, a black bra and a pair of matching panties, a pair of low-heeled sandals, a nightgown, a comb, a brush, a toothbrush and toothpaste.

She dressed quickly, combed out her hair, stepped into the sandals, and went into the other room.

Ronan turned away from the window when she entered the room.

“I can’t believe you found all this in the gift shop,” Shannah remarked.

“I didn’t.” His gaze moved over her. “Everything fit all right?”

She felt a flush burn her cheeks. “Yes,” she said, “everything.”

“Are you feeling any better?”

“A little,” she admitted, frowning. “But there’s something bothering me and I can’t quite put my finger on it. Something I should remember. It seems important…”

“I’m sure it will come to you, in time, if it’s important.”

“I guess so,” she said doubtfully.

“Would you like to go out for a while?” he asked.

She nodded, thinking some fresh air and a walk might do her some good.

“Have you had dinner?” he asked.

“No, I’m not hungry.”

“You need to eat.”

“Not now.” The very thought of food make her sick to her stomach.

He didn’t argue.

After leaving the hotel, they walked in silence for a while. Shannah felt numb inside, as if a part of her had died in the crash. Maybe she should have died, she thought glumly. At least it would have been quickly over. The doctors didn’t know what was wrong with her. What if it took her months and months to die? She didn’t want to suffer for a long time, to lie in a hospital bed and slowly waste away.

“Hey,” Ronan said, “why so quiet?”

She shrugged. “I was just thinking about…” Her eyes narrowed and she turned to look at him.

“On the plane, you promised me that whatever happened, you’d keep me safe.”

He shrugged. “What did you want me to say? I was trying to make you feel better.”

“But there was more…why can’t I remember?”

Taking her by the hand, he said, “Come on, let’s get a drink.”

They found a quiet night club on the next block. Shannah ordered a virgin strawberry daiquiri and Ronan ordered a glass of red wine.

He studied her over the rim of his glass, wondering what he would say if she suddenly remembered everything that had happened before the crash. He told himself there was nothing to worry about and yet he wasn’t so sure. No one else had ever recalled being hypnotized by him. Perhaps it was the result of the blood he had given her. Perhaps it had weakened his power over her and, at the same time, strengthened her will to resist his telepathic suggestions. If she remembered everything he had said on the plane before the crash and after, it would require a great deal of explanation.

Jim Hewitt looked up at the small television set that was located on a shelf in a corner of the bar.

“Hey, Overstreet,” he called, “look at this. Bartender, can you turn up the sound?”

“What’s going on?” Carl Overstreet looked up at the screen where a television reporter was standing in front of the smoldering wreckage of a plane.

“Remember when we followed Black and her publicist to the airport? Didn’t they leave on Flight 271?”

Overstreet snorted. “If he’s her publicist, I’m Jane Pauley.”

Hewitt jerked his chin toward the TV. “That’s Flight 271. Good thing we couldn’t get tickets.”

“Yeah,” Overstreet muttered, his eyes narrowing. “Good thing.”

Hewitt grunted. It hadn’t seemed like a good thing at the time. Once Eva Black had boarded the plane, she had been lost to them, at least temporarily. Now it looked like she was gone for good, and with her their only link to her companion.

“Do you think he was killed?” Overstreet asked.

Hewitt shrugged, his gaze intent on the screen. “I don’t know. Vampires are susceptible to fire, just like anyone else. Maybe more so.”

“Yeah, but…wait a minute,” Overstreet said. “Listen to this.”

“…. Miss Eva Black and her companion, Mr. Dark, were the sole survivors when the plane’s engine malfunctioned and crashed in this barren stretch of Iowa countryside. Neither Miss Black, a well-known author who resides in Northern California, nor her companion, Mr. Dark, were available for comment. In other news…”

Hewitt grinned. He’d bet his last dollar that Mr. Dark was none other than Ronan.

“What’s so funny?” Overstreet asked.

“Just thinking that this is our lucky day. So, what do you say, Carl, you up for another trip to sunny California?”

“Sure, I’ve got nothing else to do.” With a shrug, the reporter tossed off his drink. “But how do we find him when we get there?”

“As it happens, I know how to find him.”

Using the ticket the airlines had given her, Shannah booked a flight home for the next night.

Ronan was able to get a seat on the same flight. He watched her carefully as they boarded the plane, but she did so without fear.

The flight was uneventful. When they arrived at the airport, Ronan hailed a cab.

Shannah sat beside him, silently staring out the window.

It was after midnight when they reached Ronan’s house. Shannah felt a sense of homecoming unlike anything she had ever felt before as she stepped across the threshold.

Funny, that this big old house that wasn’t even hers felt more like home than her own apartment.