Free Seven Kinds of Hell by Dana Cameron Page B

minute.
    “No, I don’t see any worrying signs,” Claudia said finally. “Perhaps a slight inclination to overindulge in stimulants?” She made it a question, giving me a chance to roll my eyes. Sure, Sean was high. Whatever; she wasn’t much of a doctor if she didn’t know the smell of dope, or the lack thereof. That story gave me a lot of cover, anyway, and as long as he didn’t start talking, we’d be fine.
    We walked to a breakfast joint that was open and inviting. As we sat, I was dreading the chitchat, the utter irrelevance of it all, and yet looked at the menu. My phone rang, a number I didn’t recognize.
    Even if it was the creeps with pointy teeth, anything was better than this awkward socializing and waiting for Sean to come to his senses. His movements were still a bit wobbly.
    “Yeah?”
    “Is this Zoe Miller?” The voice was almost familiar.
    “Who wants to know?” I cringed; not only did my defensive answer sound juvenile, it caught the attention of my two new friends. “I’m sorry. Who’s calling, please?”
    “This is Mick, the manager of Danny Connor’s building. He’d said you’d be visiting, right?”
    That’s where I recognized the voice, from moving Danny in. “What’s this about?”
    “There’s been a break-in, your…cousin’s?…place. It’s pretty bad.”
    “Is Danny OK?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “What do you mean?” Panic rose in me.
    “Well, he’s not there. There are a few bloodstains, but he’s nowhere to be found. I called the police. They’re on their way. I figured I should call you, too.”
    Police?
Bloodstains?
    “I’m on my way.” I hung up.
    “What is it?”
    I turned to Claudia. “An…emergency. My cousin’s place was broken into. They don’t know where he is.”
    “Should he be there?”
    “Yes. He’s not…there’re…bloodstains.” I felt dizzy.
    “Gerry, trouble!” Claudia said. “Zoe, we have a car. Did you walk, take the train?”
    “Walked.” The world was still spinning. Sean just sat there, looking confused, and that worried me.
    “Let us drive you. It will be faster.”
    I nodded dumbly, breathing regularly, trying to stay calm. This was not the time for the Beast, that was for sure, not in this coffee shop, not at Danny’s, not with these strangers, and Sean, and oh my God, police…“Thanks. I…I’m going to try Danny’s cell.”
    Nothing.
    Gerry threw a couple of bills on the table, smacked Sean on the shoulder, and we were off.

    Danny’s apartment looked as though Sean had been living there a year. Worse—my heart sank as I saw just how bad it all was. Whoever had been here was not interested in subtlety or secrecy. The way the place was torn apart—cushions eviscerated, curtains slashed, the refrigerator emptied and left open—told me the perpetrators had been as interested in intimidation as in finding whatever it was they sought.
    Hoping I was wrong, I pulled out my cell and dialed Danny’s number again. Almost too faint to hear, a Sousa march played, the one I always associated with Monty Python. I eventually found his phone down in the sofa cushions.
    “Your ears are better than mine,” the super said when he arrived. “I tried that, but couldn’t hear anything.”
    “I knew what to listen for,” I said. “Where did you see—?”
    But I’d found the answer myself, before I finished my question. Something drew me over to the office door, where a lurid splash of blood painted the wall.
    I felt drawn to it, when any other day I would have been out of there like a shot. It glittered on the wall, shimmering like living rubies, calling to me. The closer I got, the more the blood drew me in.
    I told myself that I didn’t actually touch it, but I was so close, it was as though I could see the individual molecules dancing, still struggling to live.
    “Zoe!”
    The shout startled me from my reverie. A gentle hand was on my shoulder.
    I looked up.
    Claudia was there. “You don’t want to contaminate any