she was still there.
"Are you hurt?" Araminta asked, and there was just enough emotion in her tone to shock the heck out of Vivien.
"No, I'm fine. I'm with a"—what was she supposed to call him?—"a friend."
"Amy?"
Vivien couldn't help but smile at the approval in Araminta's voice. For some reason, her mother liked Amy. "No, not Amy. Someone else."
Araminta heaved one of her impending-nuclear-destruction sighs, pointed out that Vivien had best notify her bank and credit card companies, and wondered with preternatural calm whether the damage would be covered by Vivien's home insurance.
"Yes, Mom. I'll call the bank and the insurance again in the morning. And, yes, my policy will cover this."
The conversation petered out pretty quickly after that. Vivien gave her mother Dain's telephone number in case she needed to reach her and completely ran out of things to say after that.
"I'm at the Royal York. Ask for me at the desk. I'll come down," Araminta said, and Vivien had the odd notion that her mother was offering her a place to stay.
She murmured a noncommittal reply.
"Well, you have lost only things . Nothing that can't be replaced," her mother said, matter-of-fact as always. "Good night, dear."
Nothing that can't be replaced . Vivien shook her head as she put the receiver back in the cradle. Her photos of her whole life. The huge stuffed teddy she and Amy had won together at Wonderland the year they first met; she could still remember the sense of euphoria as she'd been handed her prize. All her clothes and shoes. Her furniture. God, the list was enormous.
She closed her eyes, and a memory of the demon in her basement came to her.
Oh, yeah, she hadn't lost anything that couldn't be replaced—except her naive belief that the world's worst monsters were human and that her work and testimony had helped to convict some of them and see justice done.
Vivien slowly exhaled as a shudder came over her. And along with everything else, she'd lost another chunk of time today. What had she done all afternoon? Where had she been?
And what about last night after her mother had left? There was a full twelve hours missing there, a whole night up until the point that Dain had appeared on her front porch, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't recover even a flicker of memory.
She'd made notes on her previous episodes. Jotted down conjectures. Started a file filled with articles on any possible cause for what was happening to her. That was all gone now, incinerated. She'd have to start over.
Catching her lower lip between her teeth, she sighed. The episodes hadn't come so close together before, and she felt like she wasn't just losing time; she was losing herself. Turning, she splayed her fingers on the cold glass of the window.
The oil on her skin would leave a handprint, she realized, but she didn't pull away.
I was here. I'm alive. I'm still me, despite everything .
I'll find that lost time, I'll find it. And I'll find out where I was, what I did.
She couldn't say how long she stood there, her mind spinning through a whole slew of terrible possibilities and conjectures, stirring them and stirring them until they melded into a dark and frightening sludge.
Suddenly, an odd awareness skittered through her, and she shivered. The air seemed to shift and bend, a warm stroke against her skin that sent every nerve into tingling sensitivity.
She knew even before he spoke or made a sound.
Dain Hawkins was back.
His footsteps sounded against the hardwood floor, drawing closer, until she sensed him right behind her.
Luscious, hard-bodied, irresistible Dain.
That was okay. She'd resist. She was a little more in control of herself now than she had been at lunch… she hoped.
"Vivien." Oh, God, the way he said her name, so low and sexy, like he was tasting it. She didn't turn, didn't dare look at him. Instead, she stared out at the distant lights.
He'd come back. He hadn't deserted her. He'd come back.
She almost
"Are you hurt?" Araminta asked, and there was just enough emotion in her tone to shock the heck out of Vivien.
"No, I'm fine. I'm with a"—what was she supposed to call him?—"a friend."
"Amy?"
Vivien couldn't help but smile at the approval in Araminta's voice. For some reason, her mother liked Amy. "No, not Amy. Someone else."
Araminta heaved one of her impending-nuclear-destruction sighs, pointed out that Vivien had best notify her bank and credit card companies, and wondered with preternatural calm whether the damage would be covered by Vivien's home insurance.
"Yes, Mom. I'll call the bank and the insurance again in the morning. And, yes, my policy will cover this."
The conversation petered out pretty quickly after that. Vivien gave her mother Dain's telephone number in case she needed to reach her and completely ran out of things to say after that.
"I'm at the Royal York. Ask for me at the desk. I'll come down," Araminta said, and Vivien had the odd notion that her mother was offering her a place to stay.
She murmured a noncommittal reply.
"Well, you have lost only things . Nothing that can't be replaced," her mother said, matter-of-fact as always. "Good night, dear."
Nothing that can't be replaced . Vivien shook her head as she put the receiver back in the cradle. Her photos of her whole life. The huge stuffed teddy she and Amy had won together at Wonderland the year they first met; she could still remember the sense of euphoria as she'd been handed her prize. All her clothes and shoes. Her furniture. God, the list was enormous.
She closed her eyes, and a memory of the demon in her basement came to her.
Oh, yeah, she hadn't lost anything that couldn't be replaced—except her naive belief that the world's worst monsters were human and that her work and testimony had helped to convict some of them and see justice done.
Vivien slowly exhaled as a shudder came over her. And along with everything else, she'd lost another chunk of time today. What had she done all afternoon? Where had she been?
And what about last night after her mother had left? There was a full twelve hours missing there, a whole night up until the point that Dain had appeared on her front porch, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't recover even a flicker of memory.
She'd made notes on her previous episodes. Jotted down conjectures. Started a file filled with articles on any possible cause for what was happening to her. That was all gone now, incinerated. She'd have to start over.
Catching her lower lip between her teeth, she sighed. The episodes hadn't come so close together before, and she felt like she wasn't just losing time; she was losing herself. Turning, she splayed her fingers on the cold glass of the window.
The oil on her skin would leave a handprint, she realized, but she didn't pull away.
I was here. I'm alive. I'm still me, despite everything .
I'll find that lost time, I'll find it. And I'll find out where I was, what I did.
She couldn't say how long she stood there, her mind spinning through a whole slew of terrible possibilities and conjectures, stirring them and stirring them until they melded into a dark and frightening sludge.
Suddenly, an odd awareness skittered through her, and she shivered. The air seemed to shift and bend, a warm stroke against her skin that sent every nerve into tingling sensitivity.
She knew even before he spoke or made a sound.
Dain Hawkins was back.
His footsteps sounded against the hardwood floor, drawing closer, until she sensed him right behind her.
Luscious, hard-bodied, irresistible Dain.
That was okay. She'd resist. She was a little more in control of herself now than she had been at lunch… she hoped.
"Vivien." Oh, God, the way he said her name, so low and sexy, like he was tasting it. She didn't turn, didn't dare look at him. Instead, she stared out at the distant lights.
He'd come back. He hadn't deserted her. He'd come back.
She almost
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