Into Darkness (A Night Prowler Novel)

by J. T. Geissinger

  I thought you said you weren’t violent.

  She didn’t realize she’d spoken aloud until he answered her, explaining as one would to a child. “It’s a figure of speech. When I say ‘I’ll kill you,’ I’m referring to one of my minions, of course.”

  He actually calls them minions, she thought, stupefied. But he was still talking.

  “I prefer to leave such distasteful things to hired specialists. Like another associate of mine you might recall: a certain legless, one-armed zealot named Two? You’re right; you wouldn’t know him by that name. He was promoted from Thirteen when he successfully captured you. Everyone in the Corporation has a number indicating his status in the hierarchy; I find that much more straightforward than titles. He’s also known in the Corporation as Agent Doe, or simply the Doctor, but the general public know him as the Grand Minister. He’s a former German special forces soldier whose mother was mauled to death in front of his face when he was a child by a tiger at the circus.” He shuddered. “Can you imagine? Well, it certainly explains his pathological hatred of cats. His loss, my gain. And so it goes with life.”

  This didn’t make sense. What was she missing? She knelt before him silently, awaiting the explanation she knew would be forthcoming. And because he was carefully watching every emotion that played over her face, it was.

  “You can’t imagine the cost and effort I’ve invested over the years into capturing your people, Jenna. If you give me the location of the remaining free Aberrants, I’ll no longer have to expend energy chasing them down. My ultimate goal will be complete.”

  “Ultimate goal,” she repeated, trying not to look at the screen, her heart flayed open inside her chest.

  His trustworthy newscaster face broke into a grin. “The extermination of your entire species.” He let that sink in a moment, then added, “But in exchange for pointing me in the direction of the rest of your wayward kin, I’m willing to let you and your immediate family live out the rest of your natural lives together, here. I think it’s the least I can do for your helping me achieve my goal.”

  Her mind was splitting apart. The earth was lurching to and fro beneath her. Everything in the room was on the brink of exploding into pieces. “How would you know I was telling you the truth? How would you know I wasn’t holding something back, letting a few of them go, pretending to give you what you want?”

  “Oh, that.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Rest assured the Phoenix Corporation has the technology for making sure a subject is telling us the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Your friend Alejandro can attest to that.” He paused. “If he were still alive, that is.”

  Jenna whispered, “And how do I know you’ll keep your end of the bargain? That you’ll bring my family to me if I do tell you what you want to know . . . that you’ll keep us alive longer than even a day?”

  His smile faded. He gazed at her in contemplative silence for a moment. “I wasn’t always a businessman, Jenna. I didn’t always want to rule the world. I had a family once upon a time. A wife, a daughter, both of whom I loved very much.” His face clouded. “They were taken from me by a simple fault of human biology. A rare neurological disorder my daughter inherited from my wife. We’re so frail, humanity. So many things can go wrong with a body. So many diseases can rob us of our lives. Even a wrong step off a curb can spell disaster; the tiniest jolt to the head, applied in just the right spot, can end us altogether!”

  He seemed outraged by the thought. He looked at her and his gaze grew fierce. “But you . . . you’re different. You’re not plagued by disease. Viruses, bacteria, fungus, sickness, you’re immune to them all. You heal faster, you age slower. Your strength, speed, and agility are vastly superior to ours, you have powers we’ve never even imagined.” He sat forward in his chair, rested his elbows on his thighs, and threaded his fingers together. “I’m man enough to admit that your species is, for all intents and purposes, better than mine. But I’m also intelligent enough to foresee the inevitable decline of humanity inherent in that reality. It’s the most powerful universal law of them all: survival of the fittest. Even though we vastly outnumber you, evolution would eventually win. The Ikati would claw their way up to the top of the food chain.”

  He leaned back. “Unless, of course, one of the species on a lower rung took them out before they could.”

  Her laugh sounded insane, even to her own ears. “And so Sebastian Thorne single-handedly saves the human race.”

  He shrugged, unapologetic. “Yes. Well, with help from the minions, of course.”

  “That still doesn’t answer my question; how do I know you’ll keep your end of the bargain?”

  He seemed pleased she was considering it.

  Was she considering it? Was she only buying a few more precious seconds with Leander, even if he couldn’t see or hear her? What was she doing? She didn’t know. The universe was imploding inside her mind. All the stars were blinking out.

  “I didn’t get to where I am in life by burning bridges, Jenna. I keep my promises. But beyond that . . . as I said before, I think you can tell when someone’s lying. I think with all your enhanced senses you just know. So look at my face. Look into my eyes. Listen to my voice.”

  He leaned forward again, and this time his newscaster smile didn’t make an appearance. Solemnly, he said, “I promise you I will reunite you with your family, and allow you to live here in this suite, unharmed, in peace, for the remainder of all of your lives. If you or your husband die before your children, they will be left alone until they die of natural causes, or old age, however it is you normally die. You will never again want for anything; only the freedom to leave these rooms will be denied.”

  He spoke the truth, or at least he ardently believed what he was saying.

  And all she had to do to hold Leander and her children in her arms again was condemn each and every one of her species aside from them to death.

  Her silence displeased him. He said, “Perhaps I can help you make up your mind.” In a quick, elegant motion, he snapped his fingers.

  Behind him, the Oracle showed a swarm of guards enter Leander’s cell. They surrounded him, threw him down, began to beat him with fists and boots and billy clubs. He fought back—still so strong—but there were so many of them, and only one of him, and she knew it wouldn’t be long before they beat him to death.

  The snarl of fury that ripped from her throat echoed through the room. She jumped to her feet and lunged at Thorne.

  Jenna was frozen mid-lunge by a stinging pain in her arm that instantly paralyzed her. The room slipped sideways, and as she looked in horror down at the tiny silver dart sticking out of her bicep, she heard him say in a reasonable manner, “Why don’t I give you a few days to think about it. I’ll even be generous, and wait a week.” He smiled, and Jenna had never seen anything as soulless. “After that, the exterminations begin.” He pointed to the Oracle. “Beginning with him.”

  Then the floor came up hard to catch her, and all the world went black.

  THIRTEEN

  The sound that slipped between Lumina’s chapped lips was a combination kill me groan and weak give me water plea for help. She sat up in bed, hand to her forehead, and concentrated on keeping the contents of her stomach down.

  Memories of last night and Jack’s potent potato vodka came back with strobe light, gut-lurching clarity. The kill me groan enjoyed an encore.

  “You’re awake.”

  Lu glanced up to see Magnus leaning against the arched doorway of her bedchamber, watching her with an expression both concerned and strangely intense.

  How long has he been there?

  “Unfortunately, yes. Ugh.” She swallowed what felt like a mouthful of garbage and stuck out her tongue, repulsed by the taste in her mouth. She fought the unwelcome feeling she might not want to know exactly what had happened during the last few hours of her day yesterday, which at this
point were engulfed in a black, throbbing fog of hurt.

  Magnus pushed away from the wall and walked closer. “I told you that was rotgut vodka.”

  Her answering groan made him chuckle. If she hadn’t been in so much pain, she would have done a double take and stared; it was the first time she’d heard him make a happy sound.

  She liked it. She wanted to hear him do it again.

  “Excuse me, but you’re the one who suggested it. You said, and I quote, ‘It will put you right in the head.’ Which would only make sense if by right you meant dementia? Or maybe a coma?”

  As she’d hoped, Lu was rewarded with that chuckle. Low, deep, and wonderfully masculine, it sent a little thrill through her body, which unfortunately made her want to lean over and retch. She grimaced, cradling her stomach.

  “I suppose I should’ve given you better warning. Jack is Irish on both parents’ sides; they don’t make alcohol for the faint of heart.”

  “Or the faint of stomach, either.” Lu rubbed slow circles over her belly, eying the glossy fur coverlet on the bed, worried it might soon be ruined. She’d never had a hangover before in her life, and could imagine few things worse.

  All right, she could imagine a few things worse, but not self-inflicted things.

  “Is it really that bad?” Magnus crossed the room and stood over the bed, looking down at her with his brows pulled together, all traces of humor vanished. “Are you going to be sick?”

  Lu had to slowly inhale and exhale a few times before she could answer. “I think so.” She nodded, which made the room lurch in a really bad way. “Uh-oh.”

  In a swift, sudden movement, Magnus knelt beside the bed. He said, “Look at me.”

  She did, and found him staring at her in intense concentration. He didn’t move, touch her, or say anything else, but her queasy stomach and pounding head abruptly settled, and the fatigue, dry mouth, and allover body aches that accompanied them were just as suddenly gone, too. From one second to the next, she went from feeling sick to feeling great.

  “Huh,” said Lu. “Okay, that’s weird.”

  Magnus just stared at her. She swallowed, stretched her neck one way then the other, and sat up straighter, inhaling a deep breath.

  He said, “How do you feel now?” and she slanted him a look.

  “You did something.” Her soft accusation didn’t faze him. Strangely, though, he’d begun to turn a little . . . green. Realization hit her like a thunderbolt, and Lu gasped. “Magnus!”

  He winced, closed his eyes. “Not so loud, please.” He pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers, making a grumble of distress in his throat.

  “You . . . you take away pain? That’s your Gift?”

  His full lips twisted. He cracked open an eye and looked at her. He said, “One of them. This particular one has a few unfortunate side effects,” then his face crumpled. “Jesus, woman, exactly how much did you drink last night?”

  Lu swung her legs over the side of the bed, wanting to touch him but knowing he wouldn’t want her to, wanting to comfort him but not knowing how. “Magnus, you didn’t have to do that! It’s my fault, you shouldn’t have to—”

  “I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?”

  The young man standing in her bedchamber door was about her age, broad, blond, and ridiculously good-looking, with a soft glow around his head that seemed to be coming from behind him. He looked between her and Magnus, a little unsure, but Magnus shoved himself to his feet and growled, “No, Beckett. I was just leaving.”

  Lu begged, “Magnus, please, wait—”

  “I brought these for you,” he said gruffly, and dropped two pairs of gloves on the small table beside her bed. He turned and strode stiffly from the room without looking back before she could ask him again to stay.

  As Magnus brushed past him in the doorway, Beckett grinned at him, flashing a dimple in his cheek.

  In response, Magnus growled.

  Beckett didn’t seem to mind. He turned his attention to Lu and held out the bundle he carried in his arms. “My aunt asked me to bring you these. She said badass chicks deserve badass threads.” His rakish grin deepened. “I couldn’t agree more.”

  “Your aunt?” She craned her neck to see around him, but Magnus was gone. How could she thank him for what he’d done for her? Especially if he kept running away?

  “Morgan. Well, she’s not technically my aunt, but we’re tight. I’ve called her that since I was a kid.” He noted the confused expression on her face. “Oh, shit, sorry, where are my manners?” He bowed from the waist, then straightened and said formally, “Beckett McLoughlin, at your service, My Lady. It’s my sincere pleasure to make your acquaintance. Welcome.”

  McLoughlin. That was one of the names Magnus had called her: Hope Catherine Moore McLoughlin. She looked at Beckett, intrigued by a new possibility.

  “So we’re related? Are you my . . . brother?”

  For a moment Beckett looked appalled. “No! I mean . . .” he cleared his throat, rearranging his expression to one slightly more composed. “My father and your father are brothers. You met my parents at the Assembly meeting. Ember and Christian? He’s my dad.”

  “Oh. So we’re cousins, then!”

  Beckett seemed to have some kind of a problem with her being related to him, because his look soured. He said grudgingly, “Well, technically. Yes.”

  She didn’t understand the subtext here, but without the hangover clouding her mind and wreaking havoc with her body, Lu suddenly remembered the event that had caused her to want to get so blindly drunk.

  She’d died, and been resurrected.

  Correction: She’d been killed, and been resurrected.

  Payback’s gonna be a bitch, Honor, she thought angrily. Then with a flash of horror: Am I a zombie now?

  Looking at her expression, Beckett’s face fell. “I’ll just leave these for you—”

  “I’m sorry, it’s not you. It’s not you at all. I just . . .” She stared at his expectant expression, feeling competing urges to laugh, cry, and dive deep into bed, pull the covers over her head, and never reemerge. She blurted, “I died yesterday, Beckett. Twice.”

  He considered her, his expression serious. “I know.” He paused a beat, then broke into another of his seemingly endless supply of grins. “Is that awesome, or what?”

  Lu ran her hands over her hair, realizing there wasn’t a mirror in this room, and she had no idea what she looked like. Was her skin zombie gray? No, her hands and arms were the normal color. She had to assume her face looked normal, too. She put her hand over her heart; still beating.

  “May I?” Beckett gestured to the clothing in his arms, and glanced at the end of her bed. Why someone hadn’t thought to put a chair or a dresser in the room, she had no idea.

  She nodded, and he came forward and laid the clothes at the foot of the bed. He retreated to the door, keeping his eyes to the ground, not turning but instead walking backward, until he was again at the arched entrance.

  Finally he looked up at her, smiling as if he’d just won a million water credits. His teeth were spectacularly white.

  “If you’re up for it, a bunch of us are going hunting topside later. You’re welcome to join in.”

  Lu’s brain closed around the word topside with an almost audible snap. She pictured the cloud-wreathed peaks she’d seen on the flight here, she pictured emerald forests and cool, shady glens. But there was another word he’d spoken, a word that made her mouth water and her blood quicken in the most wonderful way.

  “Hunting?”

  “There’s only so much fish you can eat,” he said with a laugh. “Topside there’s rabbit and birds and even red deer.” He laughed again, this one softer. “Though I pretty much always let the deer get away.”

  “Why’s that?”

  His eyes shone in the low light. “Be
cause it’s the chase I love. If a deer gives me a wonderful chase, I give the deer its life in return. I let it go.” He shrugged, a little sheepishly it seemed. “But I figure it’s a fair trade.”

  Knowing she was missing something again, Lu frowned at him, but he was backing out the door.

  “So, are you in?”

  His expression was so hopeful she couldn’t deny him. “Sure. It’s a date.”

  His eyes darkened. “A date,” he repeated softly, holding her gaze. Then he abruptly turned and left.

  On his way back to the small, dark cave where he slept—he couldn’t even call it home because that would imply some kind of warm, pleasant space filled with good memories—Magnus ran into Morgan, hurrying through the cool passageway with a large bundle of towels in her arms.

  “Oh! Magnus! I’m glad to see you; I was just going to take these to Hope and show her where the bathing pool is. Will you please help me—”

  “Lumina,” he said through gritted teeth, his stomach threatening to crawl into his throat and out through his mouth. “She likes to be called Lumina.”

  Morgan stopped and peered at him. “Are you all right? You don’t look so good.”

  The reminder of how he looked was extremely unwelcome. Especially in light of the way Lumina had gazed in wide-eyed wonder at the dazzling, Day-Glo Beckett, he of the perfect face and perfect . . . everything else. The memory made him angry, and a low, hostile growl rumbled through his chest.

  Morgan rolled her eyes. “I meant your color, Magnus. It’s somewhere between battleship gray and moss green. What’s wrong?”

  My face. My soul. My life. Aloud he said, “I have a hangover.”

  Morgan stared at him, comprehension dawning in her eyes. “Oh, ducky,” she said gently, “that was really sweet of you.”

  He clenched his teeth harder. “Morgan. About the pet name thing. I’m the Alpha; calling me ‘pet,’ ‘ducky,’ and ‘luv,’ is disrespectful and undermines my authority. Cut it out.”