The Darkness Within
Page 3
She clutched her hands to her chest. “Tuck.” The word came out a whisper. She touched the metal where his hand had been. His pain rocked her so hard it threw her head back. She let out a small cry and sank to her knees, because twined with his love for her was that fierce possessiveness she’d heard in his voice. He was as dangerous as her mother had said.
Yes, she was afraid of him. Afraid of what was in him. But in the days after that, she desperately needed to see him again. He wasn’t at graduation, wasn’t at Mrs. Markham’s house, wasn’t anywhere. She’d sneaked out late at night for weeks, taking her mother’s car and driving around the areas she knew he’d grown up in. He’d disappeared, taking her heart with him.
Then, when she’d least expected it, she found him a year ago. He’d been the one who turned away from her. She had gotten a taste of what he’d probably felt, and God, it hurt. Even worse, she’d seen nothing in his slate gray eyes when he looked at her. No emotion or longing, only cold disregard. She wasn’t expecting a warmer reception now.
And what if he’s the one who killed that guy?
She’d told her mom she knew Tuck would never do such a thing. In truth, she didn’t know him, not anymore. Seven years had passed, seven years of God-knew-what. But he was all she had.
Chapter Four
STREET PERFORMERS AND cons usually carved out their turf, or so Tucker had told Del. He made a circuit, going from spot to spot within his turf so that by the time he returned, there would be a fresh crop of tourists.
The February air nipped at her cheeks as she walked from her car to where she had seen him last. The sky was brilliant blue with clouds that looked like frosting spread too thin. The cold didn’t keep the tourists and gamblers away. The end of the world probably wouldn’t keep them from Vegas.
There was a new breed of street performer: people in costumes who would pose with you in a photo opp for tips. She passed on offers from Mickey Mouse and Batman.
“I live here,” she growled as Captain Jack Sparrow approached.
Tuck wasn’t at the place where she’d found him before, so she kept searching. She felt cold from the inside out, even beneath her heavy coat.
The sound of applause down a side street twenty minutes later drew her attention. Yes, a group of people gathered, their breath puffs of fog that hung in the air. A rock song from the eighties played in the background.
She heard his voice first, low and smooth with a hint of the theatrical. The crowd was quiet between bursts of applause. They formed a tight circle around him, but Del managed to nudge her way in.
Even after his rebuff, the sight of him clutched at her stomach. He wore the black pants and shirt, opened just enough to show the tan V of his muscular chest. His sleeves were rolled up, hands moving gracefully as he unraveled what looked like a coil of black rope. It reared up, as though to strike the man in front of him, and he jumped back. The “snake” evaporated, and the crowd applauded.
Sunlight reflected off Tuck’s dark hair, long enough to brush his collar. He turned to an attractive woman at his side. “And madam, what is your heart’s desire?”
“You,” she said on a laugh, not entirely kidding.
He bowed, one arm pressed against his stomach. “That may be arranged. But what can I make for you in front of these lovely people?”
Her cheeks flushed. “A rose.”
As he came up from the bow, he held a rose made of the same black substance as the rope. He extended it to her, and the moment she reached for it, the rose also evaporated. He gave her a conciliatory smile and shrug. “Ah, isn’t love fleeting?”
He’d always had beautiful hands. While Del was looking at those hands, he suddenly turned and speared her with a look. He’d known she was there last time, too. Did he have that ability to sense others that her mother had spoken of?
All thoughts fled, though, as she felt the impact of those icy gray eyes, and then their quick dismissal. It was a stupid idea, going to him. She wasn’t even sure what he could do, but she would go crazy if she didn’t talk to someone.
He threw up handfuls of what looked like black dust, and as it rained down on him, he disappeared. Literally disappeared. A moment later, he reappeared with a flourish of his arms. The crowd applauded wildly.
It hit her. He wasn’t using his telekinesis. He was using Darkness. As a trick!
He bowed, signaling the end of the show, and thanked everyone for their kind attention. People tossed bills into a carved wooden box until it nearly overflowed. He stood nearby, watching it with one eye as he spoke with the last of the crowd.
“You’re as good as any of those boys at the big casinos,” one man said, dropping a twenty into the box.
Tucker leaned down to tweak a knob on the iPod speaker system that supplied the music. “That would be too much like working for someone, but thank you, sir.”
The woman he’d made the rose for handed him a bill inside a folded piece of paper and whispered something. He wrapped his fingers over hers, gave her a sultry smile, and kissed the back of her hand. She might have stayed, but she glanced over at Del, who was clearly waiting to speak with the great magician. She murmured something to him and walked away, leaving just Del. Just Tucker.
The group singing from the iPod chanted about “Wild Boys,” but Tucker looked all business, closing the box with a snap and placing it into a suitcase. He kept his back to her, his pants pulling tight across his ass with his movements. He was more filled out in the shoulders now, still slim in his hips, more . . . grown-up. Not the boy with the soulful eyes who’d realized he’d claimed her.
The memory of those words shivered through her.
He yanked up the handle of his suitcase, his back to her, ready to walk away. “Next show is in an hour.”
“You know I’m not here to watch your show.”
He tilted his head back, as though looking at the sky. “You should go.”
All she could say, the only word she could get out among the many crowding into her mouth, was, “Tuck.”
He spun around, his eyes no longer dull with apathy. “It’s Tucker. Or Mr. Black to people I don’t know.”
She took a step forward when she wanted to back away. But no, the anger sparking in his eyes was a good thing. He hadn’t shut her out. Not completely.
“Mr. Black? Your stage name? Sounds . . . appropriate.”
She needed to ease in. Blurting out that the woman who had kicked him out was missing wasn’t going to engender his help. If it could be engendered.
“Thanks for your approval.” The spark disappeared, and he turned to leave again.
She pushed herself forward, touching his upper arm. It was hard, solid.
He jerked away. “You cannot seriously be wanting to talk, to chat, to catch up on old times.”
“I wanted to do that last time. I wanted to tell you how sorry I was, how awful I felt, but you shut me out.” Emotion leaked into her words, baring her pain and sincerity.
His mouth tightened. “Because I had nothing to say to you, and that hasn’t changed. Try again in, oh, five more years.”
She had to grab his arm before he turned away again. “Tucker, please. I need—”
“You need?” He laughed, a harsh sound, nothing like the last time she’d heard him laugh. “You need something from me—am I getting that right?”
No, this wasn’t going to be easy at all.
“I need to talk to you.”
He leaned into her face, the scent of mint on his breath. “Well, we talked, sweetheart. And it was really nice. As nice as the last time we talked, seven years ago when you ran off as your mother was kicking me out.” He slapped his hand over his chest, making a hollow thump. “Warms me right here. Gotta go.”
He might as well have thumped her chest, too. Her fingers clenched as he walked away with that confident gait. She knew he wouldn’t look back, just like last time.
“They took my mother!” she called out.
He kept going.
She sank to the sidewalk, her legs weak, and tried desperately to get herself under control. No, she didn’t need Tucker. She would figure this out herself. She wiped at her eyes and got to her feet. There wasn’t time for grief, fear, or self-pity. Dumb idea to appeal to Tucker. But at least she’d warned him.
“What happened?”
She started at the male voice right behind her, spinning to find Tucker. He’d flatly asked the question, as though some part of him felt obligated to query. His eyes looked just as flat, even framed by the thick, dark lashes she’d envied so.
Her heart jumped. He’s just listening. It doesn’t mean anything.
“I got a series of text messages from her.” She dug in her purse and extracted the phone. After waking the screen, she handed it to him, not trusting herself to read them aloud.
He took the phone, his eyes narrowing as he read.
“They,” she said. “It has to be the people she came here with. Maybe even her husband. Your biological father.”
“She says it’s time to go back. Maybe she went willingly.” He held out the phone to her.
“No, she’d never do that.” She took it, afraid he’d dismiss her concerns. “She’d never leave me like this.”
“People change their minds. They leave. They disregard you, throw you away. Happens all the time.”
Damn, he knew exactly what to say to plunge a knife into her and leave her defenseless.
“I’m sorry you felt that way. It hurt me, too.”
His laugh was harsh. “Yeah, while you had your mother and a roof and food. You probably hurt for a few minutes.”
And now twist the knife.
“I was sixteen, Tucker. Sixteen. And what you are”—she glanced around as people passed by, lowering her voice—“scared me. I saw that beast. And when you said ‘You’re mine,’ it was the same way Elgin had said my mother was his, right before he killed my father.”
He pulled her into his arms, slamming her against his body. “You’re not sixteen anymore. Still afraid of me?”
She pushed him away. “Stop. That’s not fair.”
“So the answer is yes.” His voice lowered, eyes flashing with devilment. “As well you should be.” He held his hands aloft, flexing his fingers like claws. “Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf?”
“Don’t be an asshole.” The word shocked her, coming out as it did. She needed a tame vocabulary in her line of work, even if worse words than that applied to some of the parents. “You’re using it, aren’t you?” He was obviously comfortable with what he was now. Even, she guessed, enjoyed it. “You’re using Darkness in your act.” The words came out as a hiss.
“I don’t eat people in my act.” He stepped close again, running his fingers down her neck, gently drawing his nails across her skin. “I don’t tear out anyone’s throat. So don’t take that haughty tone with me. I’ve made peace with the cards I’ve been dealt.”
His fingers had drawn down to the top of her collarbone, leaving a trail of heat and tingles. She grabbed that hand but found she couldn’t let go. “You like holding Darkness.”
His eyes flicked to where she gripped his hand before meeting her gaze again. “It’s part of me. I’ve mastered it. Never once has it taken me over.” He moved so close she could feel that minty breath on her jaw, feel the brush of his barely-there stubble when his chin brushed hers. “Do you want to know what I Become, Delaney?” he whispered.
She shoved him back. “Stop. If you don’t want to give me any suggestions on how to find my mother, fine. I get that. I hurt you, and no matter how many times I say I’m sorry, it will never, ever make it better. So punish me by walking away. Don’t punish me by trying to scare me.”
He jammed his fingers into his front pockets, tilting his head. “You knew I still held Darkness. It’s not something I’m going to outgrow. Why did you come to me, of all people?”
She knew she was outsmarted, out . . . somethinged. No matter what she said, it wouldn’t go over well. Being honest was all she could be. “Because you’re the only one who understands. You were the only one who came to mind.” She released a ragged breath. “I know. We were all you had once. My mother kicked you out, and you thought I turned away from you.” She gestured, waving him away. “So go. You can have that satisfaction again.”
He didn’t turn, though. He seemed to consider her. Probably he was enjoying her pain. He would never believe how much she’d suffered, too, so there was no need to tell him now.
He gripped the handle of his suitcase, fingers flexing over the handle. “Come.”
The word hung in the air, incongruous with the fact that he was indeed walking away.
Had she heard him correctly? Maybe he’d said Go on, and she’d look like an idiot following him.
So she stood, her throat so tight she thought it might shatter if she swallowed.
He paused, turned, and gave her a questioning look. “Having second thoughts?”
And third and fourth, but the question loosened the grip her confusion had on her. Relief flowed now, weakening her bones. She shook her head and joined him.
She wanted to cry, to gush gratitude, but she stuffed everything and walked silently beside him. To where, she had no idea.
He led her to a parking garage, and then to an old sports car. She’d never even heard of a Datsun. He popped the hatch and tossed the suitcase in the back with a practiced move.
She didn’t wait for an invitation, getting in on the passenger side when he opened the driver’s door. Closed inside, his energy seemed to throb, pulsing through her. He started the car and turned up the heat. The interior was immaculate, the stereo a high-end brand. The rock music pouring from the speakers made it feel like she was at a concert.
His gaze remained ahead as he blindly turned down the volume. “Tell me what happened.”
“How are you?”
She wanted to know what he’d done when he left the schoolyard, how he’d survived. She’d comforted herself with the fact that he’d been basically living on the streets when they’d found him so he knew how to take care of himself. He’d never talked about what had propelled him from the shabby apartment he shared with his mother.
He turned to her at last, impatience in the lines around his mouth. “This is about your mother, not me. Not us.”
“She loved you, Tucker. It hurt her, too, but she was so afraid. Not crazy, but crazy-afraid.”
“Don’t.” He shook his head, gripping the gearshift. “I don’t want to talk about the past. There’s nothing there for me. We talk about what happened today or we don’t talk at all.”
“Okay.” She told him everything, which was damned little.
He crooked his fingers. For a moment, she thought he was gesturing for her to come closer. Her body wanted to lean toward him, but she realized he meant for her to give him the phone again.
He read through the texts. “She sent them in short bursts because she wasn’t sure how much longer she would have a chance to warn you. She doesn’t want you to go to her house, because she thinks they might have been watching her, maybe traced her there.” He glanced at her. “Still the same place?”
She nodded, and he turned away for a second. To hide his reaction to the memories?
“There are pictures of you there, papers, records. Evidence that you exist.”
“Yes, I suppose.”
“Tell me everything you know about the people we’re the offspring of. Why
did they come here? Carrie didn’t exactly give me a lot of information before she tossed me out on my ass.”
“She tried to find you, you know. The next day. She knew she’d reacted out of fear and motherly instinct, and she wanted to talk to you, give you some money.”
“Motherly instinct. Yeah, she didn’t want me eating her daughter.” His mouth quirked. “In any way.”
Del’s cheeks flushed at the implication.
“I didn’t need her money,” he said. “But more knowledge would have been nice. I had enough to get by, as it turned out.” He waited, apparently not going to tell her what he’d had enough for. “Carrie said something about the people who came here from the other dimension. Why were they here? How many?”
“She never told me much either, other than their people had come here to study our energy resources. She didn’t say how many had come, but I gathered there was a group of them. They settled here, keeping to themselves but living as normally as possible. Mom wasn’t even sure they were still here . . . until that attack last night. But it’s damned strange that someone with Darkness killed that man, and the next day my mom goes missing. She told us she left her people, but in reality, she ran away. After so many years, she figured they weren’t looking for her anymore.”
He ran his hand over his hair as he absorbed what she was saying. “We have to figure out why they took her. Why now? You’re right. Seems unlikely that one of them would happen onto her the day after the attack.”
This was why she needed him. He was detached—well, mostly detached—and could see it from a position that wasn’t soaked in fear. Because he had no emotional investment in the outcome of her mother’s fate.
“Mom didn’t think it was one of them who killed that man. The penalty for potentially exposing the group is pretty severe. It’s why she isn’t sure Elgin, her former husband, is even still alive.”
A shadow passed over his face. “Wait a minute. You don’t think I—”
“I wouldn’t be here if I thought you . . .” She couldn’t say the words. “She thought it could be anyone those men with Darkness sired.” She put her hand on his, wishing she could read his feelings. “I told her you weren’t capable of doing something like that.”