Out of Time 01 - Out of Time

here.”
    * * *
    Simon hurried them along the dark streets. As much as he wanted to know what had happened, he needed to feel she was safe, and their little flat was as close as he could get.
    Once they were home, Elizabeth stood in the middle of the room, her arms wrapped around her chest. Simon came up behind her, and she jumped when he put his hands on her shoulders. She stepped away and looked up at him, before turning away. “I need to take a bath.”
    He caught her arm. “Elizabeth—”
    She squirmed out of his grasp. “Please?”
    She looked so small, so vulnerable. All he wanted to do was wrap her in his arms and never let go. But right now this wasn’t about what he wanted. “Of course,” he said and let his hands fall to his sides.
    She went into the bath and turned on the taps. Simon stood on the threshold and watched as she slowly undressed. Her hands shook as she struggled with the buttons of her dress, and Simon stepped forward and covered her trembling hands with his own. He undid the rest and then stepped back to lean against the door jam. He’d give her the distance she needed, but she was not going to be out of his sight.
    Without looking back, she stepped into the hot water. The little room filled with clouds of steam. Wisps of water vapor, hotter even than the heat of the summer night, snaked up like tendrils of smoke.
    Simon breathed in the cloying air and waited.
    The water ran until it nearly spilled over the sides. Elizabeth didn’t seem to notice. She sat huddled in the tub, barely moving.
    He shut off the taps and knelt down next to her. Her skin glowed red from the scalding water. His heart ached at the sight of her—curling in on herself, trying to burn away the memory of the night.
    “Come on, love,” he said, and eased her out of the tub. She stepped onto the mat, and he wrapped a towel around her shoulders.
    She sniffled and looked up at him, tears filling her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
    “Shhh,” he whispered, and pushed a wet lock of hair from her face. He took her nightshirt from the hook on the back of the door and eased it over her head.
    “Let’s get you in bed,” he said and led her back into the bedroom.
    She crawled to the middle of the bed and leaned back against the headboard, clutching a pillow to her chest. Simon sat on the edge of the bed and once again resisted the urge to take her into his arms.
    “I don’t think I can do this anymore,” she said softly, looking as helpless as he felt.
    “Tell me what happened.”
    Her brow wrinkled and fresh tears threatened to spill out of her eyes.
    “Please,” he said hoarsely. “I know this is difficult, but I...I have to know. Did he... Did he touch you?”
    “No,” she answered and Simon felt one of the fists that clenched his heart ease its grip.
    “He was a perfect gentleman,” she said with a bitter laugh, “when he wasn’t threatening you or Charlie.” She squeezed the pillow tighter, and he saw the sense of betrayal in her eyes. “Charlie knew? All along he knew what King was and he didn’t say anything?”
    “I think I understand his reasons, but don’t worry about that right now,” he said and took hold of her hand. He’d made a complete cockup of the situation until now. And it was time for things to change. “I know it’s difficult, but I need you to tell me what happened tonight. Everything that happened.”
    Slowly, she eased out of her despondency and recalled every facet of the evening, regaining strength in the telling. She didn’t know where she’d been taken. The limousine had curtains in the back, and they’d remained closed for the trip. Judging from the distance she’d traveled, she guessed it was somewhere uptown, but couldn’t be more specific than that. She described the lavish apartment and recounted the details of King’s change with chilling precision. The academic part of Simon’s brain catalogued each detail of the creature’s appearance, while all his heart wanted to do was to tell her to stop, to blot out the last twenty-hours and spirit her away.
    She told him all she could remember of their conversations, including the chilling revelation that King had been not only following them, but actively investigating them. Who knows what, besides his grandfather’s ring, King had gotten from Smitty at the pawnshop. Simon tried to remember the scene to see if they’d inadvertently let any telling details slip.
    “I guess there’s nothing to do but wait,” she