Nicki Armstrong was the best homicide detective in the NYPD; she took her job seriously and didn't let anyone get in her way until the case was solved -- that is until she stumbled across a murder that made her question everything she had known abou...
Once the plane had taken off, Nate headed into the cockpit to speak to the pilot about something or other, giving me a quick peck on the forehead before he left. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world; like we had been doing little things like this all our lives instead of only knowing each other for a week. Barely a week, even. Instead of feeling like my life was in danger, I felt like I was going on vacation with my new boyfriend.
It was an odd, yet pleasant, situation.
Since I had nothing better to do, I chose one of the soft, plump seats and sat down, resigning myself to looking out of the window as the plane rose higher and higher. I wondered where my relationship with Nate would go after we stopped Bax from being the psychotic maniac that he was. Would it get serious? Of course, with him being a vampire, precautions of a different sort would have to be made. I couldn't treat him like any other guy with normal precautions. There was the small detail of his blood diet. As a vamp, I'm guessing it was pretty hard to speak to a human without thinking about sinking their fangs into them, let alone have a relationship with one. Would he just leave, seeing the job as being done? I let out a small scoff. Nate didn't seem like the type to just walk away without making sure I was okay first.
That was the problem.
I let out a yawn, lethargy coming on me unexpectedly, and shifted in my seat to get more comfortable. My eyes grew heavy, my limbs feeling like they had lead weights in them, and slowly began to drift off...
My dream started normally. I was walking through a field of hay in a white cotton dress, running my fingers through the feather-soft blades. The rolling hills in front of me resembled golden waves as the wind billowed the hay stalks toward me. Above my head, the sky was angry; a stormy grey blanket that was cracked momentarily with the silver flash of lightening and an ominous rumble of thunder. Yet, it wasn't cold; it was comfortably warm. I wasn't scared; I felt safe. Like nothing could harm me here. I was out in the open, vulnerable to anything, yet I felt like I was free...
"Nikita."
A voice, soft and distinctly female, carried in the wind. I frowned. I had never heard the voice before in my life, yet it spoke my name like she knew me. Nobody had used my Sunday name, Nikita, since... Well, since my mother died, really. Everybody called me Nicki. That was my name now; not Nikita.
Why Nikita?
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Then, as though someone had clicked their fingers, the scene completely changed. I was in my own clothes again, standing in the middle of a small lounge area filled with plump sofas and cushions, drapes of every vibrant shade of red and purple hanging from the ceiling to give the illusion of an Arabian harem. Behind me, the log fire provided the only source of light that filled the room with a golden warmth. To my left, there sat a small round table by the heavily-curtained bay window with tarot cards that were laid out in an arch, face down. The room was thick with the heady aroma of lavender, which tickled my nose. I had never seen this place before, or visited it, but I knew something wasn't entirely right.
Why had my dream suddenly change?
"Because I made it happen," that same voice, stronger and clearer now, said proudly behind me. I whirled around and saw a woman, no older than I, standing by a darkened archway with her hands clasped in front of her, wearing a floor-length gown in teal silk that outlined her slim figure. Her platinum hair fish-plaited over her bare, pale left shoulder and softened the sharp edges of her high cheekbones. Despite her youth in appearance, her crystal-blue eyes glittered with a wisdom far beyond her years.
She was older than she looked.
Very much so.
"Who are you?" I demanded. "What am I doing here?"
She lifted her hands up in surrender, a small smile forming on her pretty features. "Don't worry, Nikita, you are safe here. As for this," she added, gesturing to the surroundings. "This is my home. Well," she shrugged; a casual movement that seemed out of place on her. "The dream version of it, anyway."
"Dream?" I repeated, arching an eyebrow. "Wait... You made this?"
"Of course," she answered simply. "I had to create a world that would be safe. For both of us. I needed to confide in you, Nikita, as you were the only one who would think rationally about your options. And," she added, giving me a sad look. "Who wouldn't judge me too much. Besides, this place is guarded against malevolent spirits such like Nathaniel's brother and his bitch of a mate that he's trying to resurrect."
She moved -- so elegantly, so smoothly, as if she was floating -- to the armchair nearest the huge Victorian mantelpiece and lowered herself into the plush cushions, crossing her legs underneath her skirt. When she looked up to me, her expression was one of concern and panic. "I just hope I have gotten to you in time."
I lowered myself into the sofa at the back of me, leaning forward and clasping my hands together on my lap. "Sure," I agreed. "But, I'd like to know who I'm talking to before I say anything more."
"Oh!" She let out a short laugh. "Forgive me. My name is Alexandria; I'm sure Nathaniel has told you of me?" She finished off the sentence in a question, as though hoping that Nate had been gushing over her.
I stared blankly at her. Alexandria... Why had I heard that name before? Then, like a light being switched on inside my head, realization dawned. Suddenly, I felt rather sheepish. "Oh... I've read about you in Nate... Nathaniel's journals."
Alexandria frowned, confused. "His journals? I thought he'd hidden them away."
"A detective," I elaborated. Understanding dawned on her features and she gave a small nod. "Homicide. New York. Finding things that people would prefer to keep hidden away is kinda my thing. That's how I got here in the first place," I added wryly.
"Ah," a faint smile forming on her lips. She'd obviously caught the dry tone in my voice. "I see. Well, at least this means we can skip niceties and get right to it." She paused. "Don't come to New Orleans."
