Chapter 2

There were other distinct sounds he normally dismissed. The hum of electricity, both through the house’s wiring and in its appliances. The gurgle of pipes. The toilet upstairs was still running. Beyond the walls were the echoes of Chicago, but at this hour of the night, their residential neighborhood became a void. Nothing interesting there.

And yet, every time Emma did this, every time she stopped in her tracks to listen, her intent was etched in every ready line of her body.

What did she hear? Neither he nor Jesse had ever found a satisfactory answer for that.

She began walking again. Her paths rarely varied. Sometimes she went into the kitchen and fixed herself something to eat. On those nights, Gideon sat opposite her at the table and watched her glazed eyes, waiting for her to notice him there. She never did.

Other nights, she went into the living room and sat in the middle of the floor. Nothing else, just sat. Always the same spot. Cross-legged, with her hands in her lap, like she was a child waiting to be noticed.

There had been one time, very early on, when she had gone downstairs to the playroom. Gideon had followed, curious about what she might do, but when she’d gone straight to the toy closet and one of the more dangerous whips, he’d jumped in and pulled her away. He’d guided her back upstairs, helped her back into bed, and told Jesse about it the next morning. They had agreed then to keep the basement door locked at all times. Emma never remembered her nightly sojourns, and they understood enough about sleepwalking to know she might not be completely rational. Better to be safe than sorry.

Tonight was something new. Her gaze swept slowly around, settling on the library door. Her steps were slow and methodical, her hand reaching out to open it as she approached. She left it slightly ajar, and Gideon slipped in unseen behind her.

A long, shuddering sigh wracked through her slim frame. For a second, Gideon thought she was crying, but there was no other sound, no scent of salt, nothing to indicate tears. She stood several feet within the room and simply waited.

So Gideon waited, too.

The library was one of the rooms that had been the house’s bestselling points for Jesse. It was two stories high, with shelves lining all but one of the walls. A balcony ringed the second level, making it possible to look out over the main room, and tall ladders slid along installed railings to make it possible to reach even the highest shelf. Emma had equated it to the My Fair Ladyset, which wasn’t really far off. Gideon had only known that Jesse got hard just standing in the cavernous room. Considering he had lost a library it took him twenty years to accumulate, indulging Jesse had been easy.

Minutes passed. There was no set time for Emma to be up; it varied from night to night. Once she returned to bed, she would be in for the duration, but until then, the sky was the limit.

She moved to Jesse’s desk and flipped on the lamp in its corner. Its golden glow cast a circle over the stack of books he’d left behind, but otherwise, the top was tidy. Their case load had been remarkably light since Emma’s return. By choice. While Jesse still had his Guardian responsibilities to take care of, he did nothing to demonstrate that in front of Emma. Michelle picked up the slack there. Without bitching about it, which was unusual for her. Gideon wasn’t complaining. It was about time they started catching a few breaks.

The leather of the chair creaked when Emma sat down. Her hands skimmed over the surface of the bare blotter—exploring, not touching. She perched on the edge of the seat, her gaze cast downward. When her fingers reached the edge of the desk, they disappeared behind it. A drawer slid open.

Gideon frowned. That was new.

He edged closer to see her extract Jesse’s pewter letter opener. It was heavier than it looked, with an ornate handle decorated with whorls and curlicues, and though the blade itself was not sharp, the sight of it in Emma’s delicate hands sent alarm running through Gideon’s veins. He poised at the side of the desk, ready to snatch it away, even if the sudden jarring meant waking her up. Jesse had warned him about that. It would disorient her, he’d said. Make her unpredictable.

In that moment, Gideon preferred unpredictability to bloodshed.

He didn’t relax when she set it in the middle of the blotter. It balanced oddly on the metal band separating the blade from the hilt. With a quick flick of her fingers, Emma sent it spinning in a stationary circle. Shards of dull gray flittered across the book spines lining the walls. More flashed across Emma’s face. When the letter opener started to slow, she caught it with her hand and set it dancing yet again.