Sleep. It called to Nikita luring her as a siren's song would a Greek sailor. The more she slept, the more she felt drawn to that place so warm and quiet; the place she always, always dreamed about.
Her sleep was full of unknown faces, sounds and smells; too far away and disconnected to allow her to find the missing link that would allow the picture to coalesce. She could hardly recall what the visions had been when she was awake yet they filled her with a heady sense of anticipation. Nikita focused her eyes on the paper before her, but all she could see were blurred black lines on a white field.
A yawn soon escaped her.
It was late morning and it was raining. She had always liked the rain and when she was a child had run outside to feel the drops fall on her face and hands. Even today, she loved the smell of rain; the sound of the raindrops beating on the glass of her window and how warm she felt tucked in her bed while outside it rained cats and dogs.
One of her favourite fantasies involved Michael and her making love under heavy covers during a storm.
But why even think about that.
Maybe her life wasn't so healthy after all.
She abandoned the poetry book she was reading. Nikita loved beginning her day with positive thoughts and rarely got the chance to read much at any other time, but now Spike was catching his claws on her pale grey nightgown and she needed to reprimand him. It was one of his preferred pastimes, and she kept forgetting to cut his claws while he slept. Actually, the truth was that she couldn't ever summon the courage to do it.
Nikita was pouring herself a cup of hot vanilla tea when her cell phone rang. Still annoyed with and trying to keep her overactive cat away she answered when she recognized the name flashing on the display, it was Marco O'Brien.
''Marco?''
''Yes, it's me. Listen, something came up about the woman you told me about.''
After their break-up, Marco and Nikita had retained a cordial relationship, although they weren't quite what would be considered friends. They had an agreement that they would exchange professional information, which was helpful for both, if not always ethical. In this case, Nikita had asked Marco to keep on eye on Sage. Naturally Michael didn't know anything about it as he wouldn't have agreed, aside from the fact that the two men never liked each other without any specific rationale.
''What is it?''
''She was found disfigured and killed this morning in the room of a hotel. The husband has just identified the body.''
The voice from the other end of the phone was hushed and she heard background sounds and voices.
''Are you at the crime scene?''
''Yes, my partner and I were assigned to work on the case. I'll need to be talking with you as soon as possible.''
''Can I come over there?''
''You will have to hurry. The murder was particularly brutal, and it is already attracting a lot of unwanted attention from the press.''
As Nikita scribbled down the address, her cat jumped on the table annoyed with the attention he wasn't getting any longer from his mistress.
When she hung up, Spike was glaring at her with inquisitive green eyes. Resigned to having no breakfast and knowing that she should at least tell Michael where she was going, Nikita offered Spike a consoling hug that was beneficial for both of them.
He liked being held in her arms like a baby.
Her long fingers caressed the soft red fur on his back as she clumsily punched in Michael's number. "This is my life Spike, running from somewhere to nowhere whenever the phone rings and having heart to heart talks with my cat."
''Meow." Spike grumbled with a reproachful air, his eyes lazily half-closed.