Light of Day

by Allison van Diepen

  “Oh my God, where are you?”

  “At the Phoenix. Get here right away. I’ll meet you outside.”

  “I’m there. Ten minutes.” I hung up.

  Finally, after all this time, a Bree sighting!

  I ran back to the group. “Friend in crisis. I’ve gotta go. Sorry, guys. If you need a ride—”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Adriana said, her eyes focused on the action behind me. “We’ll get a cab. Watch out!”

  They broke into a run.

  I turned around, finding myself face-to-face with a stringy-haired zombie. Half of her face was a mangled mess. Whoever had done her makeup clearly had talent. She advanced on me, backing me into a corner and grabbing my arm.

  “No, please, I don’t have time. I have to go.”

  Zombiegirl had no intention of backing down. “Rawr,” she gurgled, barfing out what looked like spaghetti.

  Then I remembered. “Apple!”

  Zombiegirl sighed and moved aside. “Whatever.”

  I hurried to the basement parking garage. Slipping into my car, I paid the attendant and drove out of the lot. There was a crowd of people blocking the street and sidewalk, waiting for the ten o’clock ZombieMall experience. I honked my horn until they let me through.

  Then I headed for Bree.

  As I drove, my mind was working a mile a minute. What would I say to her? Would she even listen to me? I’d figure it out. I couldn’t lose this chance.

  I slowed the car as I drove past the Phoenix. I couldn’t see anywhere to park, so I pulled over in front of a fire hydrant and figured I’d pay the ticket.

  X was waiting for me outside the club. The sight of him pulled at my heart, but I couldn’t think about that now.

  He put his hands on my shoulders. “Take a breath and calm down before we go in. Bree’s not going anywhere.”

  Nodding, I tried to catch my breath. “She’s with Milo?”

  “Yeah, they’re both in costume, sitting at a booth. She’s wearing a red wig and a butterfly mask, which she sometimes takes off. Manny’s watching her right now. I’m hoping she’ll go to the bathroom at some point. You can talk to her there.”

  “What if she doesn’t?”

  “Then we’ll go to plan B. In the meantime, we wait. Come with me.”

  Pounding fists with the bouncer, X led me to a corner booth in one of the front rooms. It gave us a clear view to the ladies’ bathroom.

  “When Manny gives the word, you’ll go in.” X set his phone down on the table. “Try to convince her to leave with you. Manny and I will be waiting for you outside the bathroom. If Bree agrees, we’ll take you through the back exit and drive you to my place.”

  “What if Milo . . .”

  “Don’t worry about him. Your job is to convince Bree to go with you.”

  “Okay.”

  It took several minutes for my breathing to steady again. This was it, do-or-die time. Milo had let her emerge on Halloween, when she could wear a disguise. I wondered if X had predicted this, if that’s why he was here tonight.

  X was watching me. I tried not to think of how good it felt to be near him again, or how amazing he smelled, or how sad I was about what had happened between us.

  “You got here pretty fast.”

  “It wasn’t easy. I was trapped in a mall full of zombies.”

  An eyebrow shot up. “Oh yeah? I heard about that. ZombieMall, right? Fun times.”

  “I’m not sure I’d call it fun. Entertaining, yes. My fight-or-flight instincts definitely kicked in.”

  The conversation went nowhere from there. Our last meeting hung between us. And I was too focused on what I’d say to Bree to attempt to make small talk.

  Then X’s phone buzzed. A text from Manny came up.

  On her way.

  X put a hand on my arm. “Once she’s inside the bathroom, you can go in.”

  I saw the girl then, with the butterfly mask and blood-red wig. She wore a short sparkly black dress and ankle booties, and her physique was very much like Bree’s.

  “Now go,” X said. “Remember, I’ll be right outside.”

  I walked across the room and entered the bathroom. There were two girls at the mirror, touching up their makeup. Bree had gone into a stall. I slipped into the next one, waiting for her to come out.

  I heard her pee. When she flushed, I left the stall and went over to the sink to wash my hands. The other girls had gone, thank God. It would be just us.

  The stall door opened, and there she was. She had pulled her mask up, revealing her face.

  Bree.

  I knew her immediately, despite the dark smoky eyes, glittery fake eyelashes, bright red lips, pink cheeks. Her green eyes flickered when she saw me. She quickly pulled down the mask and went over to the sink.

  I came up next to her. “Bree, it’s me. I’m here to help.”

  For several seconds, she didn’t respond. I wondered if I should repeat what I’d said. Then she turned around, pulling back the mask. “Don’t. Don’t get involved in this, Gabby.”

  “I can help you get away from him.”

  She turned on the taps and scrubbed her hands. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

  “Listen to me, Bree. There are two guys waiting for us in the hallway. They’ll get us out through the back door. Then we’ll go somewhere safe where we can talk.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about. I’m fine. I don’t need to be rescued.”

  When I didn’t budge, her head snapped around. “You have no idea how dangerous this is.”

  “Please. Just come with me, and we’ll talk. Then, if you want to go back to him—”

  She pressed on the hand dryer, drowning me out. She rubbed her hands together, waiting for me to go away.

  But I wasn’t going anywhere.

  When she finally turned around again, I reached for her hand. She yanked it back. “Don’t!”

  “Sorry.”

  The intensity in her eyes frightened me. “You’d better run while you can, Gabby. In a few seconds he’ll come in here looking for me. I’d hate to see you get hurt.” She took a step closer to me. “It would be a mistake to tell anyone you saw me. A big mistake.”

  She pushed past me and walked out. I was tempted to go after her, but I knew better. So I waited a few seconds to give her space, then left the bathroom. Manny and X were standing in the dark, narrow corridor, their eyes questioning. I shook my head.

  “What happened in there?” X asked.

  “I’m not sure. She said she didn’t want my help. Said it was too dangerous.”

  Something inside me cracked, and I put my hands over my face, sobbing. X’s arms encircled me. I’d been so close, so close! And I couldn’t convince her to come with me.

  After a few moments, I lifted my head. “We should call the police. Tell them where—” I broke off.

  In the corner of my vision, I saw two guys coming toward us. One black, one white, both over three hundred pounds. I knew right away that they were Milo’s goons. And they didn’t look happy.

  “The fuck were you doing talking to one of Milo’s girls?” the white guy demanded, looming over us. He had the long greasy hair of a pro wrestler.

  “They’re off-limits,” the black guy said, crossing massive arms over his chest.

  X gave a shrug. “What girl are you talking about?” As he spoke, he moved between me and the goons. His hand dug into my hip, nudging me out of the way. I noticed the red Exit sign down the hall.

  “You mean the redheaded chick?” Manny said, playing dumb. “Sorry, bros, she ain’t my style. Not a big fan of bone racks, you know what I’m saying?”

  X turned to me, eyes intent. “Go.”

  But there wasn’t time. At that moment, Milo’s goons rushed us. The white guy slammed his full body weight into us, shoving X and me to the ground. Then there was another impact, and I heard X grunt in pain. Oh my God. Had he been stabbed?

  But I must’ve been wrong about that, because X swiftl
y rolled off me and jumped to his feet. X slammed a fist into the goon’s belly, winding him, then he rushed him like a tidal wave, battering his face, chest, and smashing a side kick into his knee, making him scream in agony.

  I scrambled to my feet, flattening myself against the brick wall. Manny’s body was at my feet, and I heard him groaning as the black guy kicked him. I thought about jumping on the back of Manny’s attacker, but I knew it wouldn’t do any good.

  “Go!” X shouted to me again, then he took a punch in the jaw. But I couldn’t go; I was blocked by the fighting.

  Manny managed to crawl toward the guys’ bathroom and grab a beer bottle off the floor. He smashed it against the brick wall, then leaped to his feet and slashed at the massive guy, narrowly missing him. They circled each other in the cramped space. Manny went on the attack, slashing once, twice, until he’d ripped the jagged bottle down the goon’s bare arm. He howled in pain, blood pouring from the gash.

  Four bouncers rushed into the corridor to break up the fight. The diversion was just what X and Manny needed to disentangle themselves, and the three of us slipped out the back exit.

  We ran down the block to X’s car. He tossed me the keys. “Could you drive?”

  “Sure.” I didn’t question it. He must be hurt, exhausted. I climbed into the driver’s seat, while X took shotgun and Manny got into the back. I drove off quickly.

  X said over his shoulder, “You okay back there, Manny?”

  “I’m fine. Those fucking motherfucks!”

  X looked at me. “You okay?”

  I nodded. “You?”

  “I’m all right.” His jaw was clenched. “I’m losing a bit of blood, though, so we should probably stop in at the hospital. There’s one a couple miles up.”

  “What?” My eyes widened in alarm. He was taking slow, ragged breaths.

  Oh my God. My instinct had been right—he had been stabbed when Milo’s guys had first attacked us. And yet he’d gotten up and fought like a fiend afterward.

  A wave of hysteria threatened, but I forced myself to stay calm. I had to get him to the hospital as quickly as possible. X sat there quietly, pressing a bunched-up hoodie against his side.

  I was worried he’d pass out, go into shock. But he stayed conscious the whole way to the hospital. I stopped the car in front of the automatic doors, and Manny helped him inside, shouting, “We got a stab wound here! Andale, people!”

  Two nurses came up on either side of X, leading him through another set of automatic doors. Manny went in with him, but came out seconds later.

  “They won’t let me stay to hold his hand, not even when I said I was his brother from another mother. We have to wait out here.”

  We found chairs in the crowded waiting room, full of miserable-looking people and coughing kids. I’d always hated hospitals. Whatever problem you came in with, you were likely to leave with something worse. But right now, all I could think about was X.

  “How bad do you think it is?” I asked Manny, who was texting someone.

  “No idea. If it were bad, X wouldn’t let on. Now, if I’d been stabbed, I’d be howling like a bitch.”

  “You’re not comforting me.”

  “Don’t worry, they’re taking care of him. X won’t let a couple of bloated bullies bring him down, trust me.”

  I looked him over. He was a patchwork of blood and bruises. “You should get checked out too.”

  “Why bother? There’s nothing they can do for broken ribs. It’s happened to me before. But I’ll go clean myself up. Back in a minute.”

  He got up and went over to the bathroom. I stared down at my shaking hands.

  You have no idea how dangerous this is, Bree had said.

  She was right.

  Minutes turned into an hour, and there was no update on X.

  A dangerous-looking guy entered through the sliding doors of the ER. I stiffened in my seat. He had a scar snaking down his left cheek—a face you wouldn’t mess with. His eyes scanned the waiting room, coming to rest on Manny and me.

  I shook Manny awake.

  “Huh?” Manny looked up. “Don’t worry, he’s one of us. I texted him.” He knocked fists with the guy. “Matador.”

  “How’s X?”

  “Nobody’s saying nothing.”

  “I fucking told him the girl was a lost cause,” Matador said between gritted teeth. “Milo’s girls worship him.”

  Tears flooded my eyes. Is that what the Destinos thought—that Bree was a lost cause? That she worshipped Milo? No way. She must be terrified of him. That had to be the reason she had warned me to stay away.

  “Easy, Mat,” Manny said, putting a protective arm around me. “This is her friend here.”

  “So?” Matador looked down at me with a shrug. “I’m gonna see what’s happening.” He approached the desk and started talking to a nurse. Although she shook her head, saying she had no information, he didn’t budge. His plan was to stand in that exact spot until she had an update.

  It worked. Eventually she was uncomfortable enough to leave her post, go through a set of automatic doors, then come back with news.

  Matador returned to us. “Superficial stab wound. Stitches, no surgery. They’re sending him home soon.”

  I could finally breathe. Superficial was good.

  Within minutes, X appeared, his left hand cradling his side. “Nothing serious. They’ll send me the bill.”

  Matador offered to take his arm, but X waved him away. “I’m fine. Jacked up on pain meds. You should get back to what you were doing.”

  “Who’s gonna drive?” Matador asked.

  “I will,” I said.

  Manny turned to the scarred Destino. “Drop me off?”

  “Sure.”

  As I drove X’s car back to his place, I was so relieved, I could cry.

  X moved slowly up the stairs to his apartment, but refused to let me help him. The first thing he did was take off his blood-stained shirt. His torso was gorgeous, ripped, and I had to make an effort not to stare. There was a gauze bandage on his left side, covering the stitches.

  I noticed that X had several old scars—a long red scar running down his collarbone, a faded pink one circling the width of his left shoulder. He’d been stabbed, slashed before. Maybe it was part of the deal when you were a Destino. Or maybe he’d gotten them during his messed-up childhood. The thought made my heart hurt for him.

  I grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge, and handed him one.

  “Thanks,” he said, settling on the couch. “I’ll call you a cab.” He looked at his phone. “It’s two a.m. Did you get in touch with your parents?”

  Incredible that after all we’d been through tonight, he was concerned about me getting in trouble. “They think I’m sleeping over at a friend’s. If I go home now, I’ll have a lot of explaining to do.”

  “Sure. Bedroom’s yours.”

  He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. After several seconds, I realized he had fallen asleep.

  I went down the hall and grabbed a couple of blankets from the closet. Back in the living room, I dimmed the lights and draped a blanket over him. He caught my wrist and his eyes opened. “You’re a sweetheart.”

  It’s because I love you. I would never say it out loud, of course. But even if I did, he was probably too drugged up to remember it tomorrow. I sat down beside him. “I’m sorry you got hurt. It’s my fault. I’m the one who wanted us to find Bree.” I was trying to hold back tears, but doing a terrible job of it.

  “Shhh, don’t cry. It’s not your fault. Come here.”

  He guided my face to his and kissed me. Maybe he meant to soothe me, to comfort me. But the slow kiss was agony, and soon spiraled out of control. He threaded a hand through my hair and pulled me closer, pressing me against his wounded side. He groaned but didn’t stop kissing me.

  I curled up against him, hearing the unsteadiness of his breath as he deepened the kiss.

  “God, Gabby. You don’t know what you do to me.”<
br />
  “I’m probably . . . hurting you.”

  “I’m feeling pretty high right now.”

  Of course he was high. That’s what this kiss was about. And yet I couldn’t stop. It seemed to go on and on, and I was completely lost.

  At some point I finally mustered up the strength to pull back. His eyes were half closed, his breathing erratic. “Gabby . . .”

  “You need to rest.”

  “I can’t with you so close. You feel too good.” He gathered me against him, my heat next to his heat. Eventually, I could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, and knew that he was asleep again.

  I had no intention of moving out of his arms. This was probably the last time I’d be so close to him, and I would savor every minute of it. I laid my head against his chest, lulled by the beat of his heart.

  MORNING SUN

  I WOKE UP TO FEEL X sliding away from me. Light flooded through the thin living room curtains. I didn’t know what time it was, but I guessed late morning.

  “Sorry,” he whispered. “Go back to sleep.”

  I rubbed my eyes. X was standing, shirtless, his jeans falling dangerously low over his butt. Desire curled in my belly. What a sight to wake up to.

  “You want coffee?” he asked.

  “Sure.” My eyes followed him around the kitchen as he made the coffee. He was moving slowly but pretty well for someone who’d been stabbed the night before.

  I went to the bathroom to freshen up, then returned to find X sitting at the kitchen table, sipping coffee. He’d poured me a cup.

  “Sorry, I was out of milk. I’m always out of milk. I should keep the powdered stuff on hand. Anyway, I’ve got sugar if you want.”

  “It’s fine. It’s good.”

  “What’s so funny?”

  “This feels weird. Normal. I don’t know.”

  “Yeah.”

  We drank in silence for a while. There was something intimate about having spent the night on the couch together. I wanted to hang on to that closeness for as long as I could. And then there was that incredible kiss. A kiss he’d probably been too drugged up to remember.

  But I would remember.

  Unfortunately, last night’s other events came rushing back at me. How Bree had rejected my help. Milo’s goons’ attack. I wasn’t ready to process any of it yet.