by H. D. Gordon
What’s even worse is when your sleep-fogged mind clears and you assess your surroundings to find that you still have no idea where you are.
What my surroundings told me was that I was in a cage. The cage was cold metal, and my hands were once again bound behind my back. Growling like the little beast I’d become, I struggled against my bindings, panic bubbling up in me. After so long alone in the jungle, this abrupt scenery change was difficult to process.
The room I was in was dank and draped in shadows, rife with the smell of mold and some chemical agent I was unfamiliar with. Later, I would learn that this smell was embalming fluid. To this day, the scent of it incites powerful emotions from me.
Even with my superior night vision, it was not easy to see past the dim state of my new prison, and my other senses were both my biggest allies, and my greatest enemies. Over the next three days, they would make me intimately familiar with the hell I’d found myself in.
I shook my head, pushing my bangs out of my face, my green eyes growing watery again. Just recalling the memory of it was difficult for me, took me right back to that time, right back to the scariest thing I’d ever faced in my near eighteen years of life.
Thomas waited as patiently as ever, and I decided to sum up the story for both of our benefits. “He was making dolls,” I said, the words pouring out like hot water.
Thomas’s handsome brow furrowed, and he sat forward. “Dolls? What do you mean?”
“The person who took me out of the Green Room was the Scarecrow,” I said. “I wasn’t supposed to be freed for four more days, and when I was, it was supposed to be the Peace Brokers who came and got me.” Swallowing, I continued, “Instead, it was the Scarecrow.”
I realized that both my jaw and my fists were clenched, and forced myself to relax. These were nothing but memories.
Except he’s back now, I thought, the words coming without my permission. He’s back and he’s going to come. He’s going to come for me.
With this on my mind, I could feel myself slipping away, retreating to that dark place that was always willing to welcome me with open arms, the back corner room of my mind.
Then, Thomas Reid placed his large hand somewhat awkwardly on my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “What happened when the Scarecrow had you?” he asked.
I bit my lip hard enough to taste blood and let the poison out. “Three days,” I said. “He had me for three days before the Brokers finally found us. In that three days, I watched him turn two other Halfling girls into what he called his ‘Darling Dolls’. I watched him drain their blood, then replace it with embalming fluid.”
I swallowed, but now that the floodgates were open, I couldn’t seem to stop. “He dressed them up afterward. Put them in bonnets, painted their eyes and their lips.” I stared out the window at my brick view, my mind ten years in the past. “He liked to brush their hair. He would do it for hours. If the Peace Brokers had taken any longer in finding me, I would’ve been sitting at his table, just like them, just an empty body pretending to have a cup of tea while the Scarecrow rambled on about the weather.”
Goosebumps had broken out over my arms, and my stomach was turned upside down. For the first time since I’d begun telling the story, I snuck a glance at Thomas, and though I’d expected to find horror, or maybe even pity, all I saw was a justified anger that was hot enough to burn.
If I had to put a marker on the timeline in the spot where I’d begun to fall for Thomas Reid, it would go right about here. His reaction to the story I was telling, his innate instinct to protect, meant more to me than I would ever let him know.
“In fact,” I continued, feeling the burden of my secrets lessen with every word that spilled out, “I was strapped to a gurney when they found us, only minutes away from my death. I remember that there were stains on the ceiling, and that I couldn’t move, not to save my life. I’d passed out in my cage and awoke on his table, paralyzed by some poison, my muscles completely unresponsive, but my mind fully aware of it all.” I paused, swallowed twice, and shivered. “I remember the Scarecrow’s last words to me before they took him away… He said, ‘You can’t escape me, precious. Not now, not ever. I’ll see you again.’”
A couple more tears escaped me, and I clutched at the tea Thomas had made me. It was now cold, its warmth having escaped with the night. “It was Nick who found me. He was only sixteen at the time… but he found me. Two weeks later, he also apprehended the Scarecrow. Nick was there when I testified later in Broker Court.”
Having never spoken of these events to anyone, I’d not realized how much I’d needed to tell them to someone, and how much better I felt now that I’d done so.
Thomas didn’t say anything for so long that I snuck another glance at him, and when I did so, his hazel eyes captured mine and held tight.
“It’s pretty clear what we need to do,” he said, his voice as serious as I’d ever heard it. “We have to catch this bastard and make sure he never hurts you again.”
My eyebrows shot up, and I shook my head. “We? I can’t let you get involved in this. It doesn’t have anything to do with you. The Scarecrow is dangerous. He’s half Warlock.” I shook my head once more. “Nope. No way.”
Thomas leaned forward, taking both of my shoulders into his large hands. “Aria,” he said. “Don’t be a dumbass.” He placed a light kiss on my forehead before taking to his feet.
I sat in stunned silence atop my bed as he informed me that he had to go to work, but that he’d see me later in the evening. Without waiting to hear my response—not that I had one—Thomas left.
I sat staring at the door through which he’d exited, marveling at how Thomas Reid calling me a ‘dumbass’ could make butterflies fill my stomach.
It seemed wonders never ceased.
CHAPTER 11
As I rode my skateboard to Roses that Saturday morning, I refused to let all the madness in my life enter my thoughts. I liked my transport time to be one of meditation, and was perplexed when my mind kept wandering back to Thomas. I couldn’t believe how I’d spilled my guts to him. In all honesty, I didn’t even know what the man did for a living.
I decided I would need to watch myself with him, as my reading of various novels had taught me to beware a pretty face. I shall not fall victim to his manly charms! I proclaimed in my head, smirking to myself like the dork that I was.
Thomas was right about one thing, though; the Scarecrow had to be caught. Just thinking about him out in the open, free to do whatever his sick mind insisted, had me on a razor’s edge.
Even now, the Scarecrow could be near, watching me, waiting for his chance to strike.
I pushed these thoughts away as I pulled up to the flower shop, my stomach tied in knots. As I pushed through the front door of Roses, I saw that business was heavier than usual. Being this close to the holidays—today was December 19th—orders for gifts and flowers were piling up faster than Rose could keep up with.
Relief filled her face as she took sight of me through the line of people that had formed. She waved her hand and I hurried over, my sullen mood evaporating with the obvious tasks before me.
Without greeting, Rose shoved a handful of orders that needed to be filled into my hands and shooed me to the back of the shop while she rang up the costumers. The aroma of the flower shop, along with the fast-paced work, had a way of soothing my soul, and the five hours I spent there this Saturday morning went by as if on fast-forward.
As soon as the bustle slowed, however, and the workday drew to an end, I felt the reality of all that had befallen me settle right back in. I slumped sullenly down in the high stool near the tall table I used to put together arrangements, releasing a heavy breath.
I sat up straight as soon as Rose entered the back room, but she’d grown used to me over the past few months, and I didn’t fool her.
“Are you okay?” Rose asked.
I sighed. I wondered if I’d ever stop hearing this question. “I’m fine,” I answered.
Rose snorted, tucking some of her graying hair behind her ear and eyeing me over the rims of her glasses. “Yeah, right. You want to talk about it?”
I gave Rose a smile, but knew that it didn’t touch my eyes. “Would if I could, ma’am,” I said.
As was her way, Rose let the subject drop. It was then that I noticed something weighing on her aura, something heavy that I now realized had been steadily increasing over the last few weeks. I cleared my throat and broached the subject, my curiosity getting the best of me.
“Is everything okay with you, ma’am?” I asked.
Rose sighed and looked at me as if she couldn’t decide whether or not to answer. I pushed a little of my will onto her, eager to help, and at last, she said, “It’s my daughter. She’s not doing well.”
I bit my lip. Rose had mentioned her daughter a handful of times, but I could always tell it was a sore subject and let it drop. I did know that Rachel was about my age, and that she had been born with a disease that left her virtually without an immune system. Over the course of her life, Rose had been forced to keep Rachel in a special, super expensive hospital, and it seemed the bills for this treatment were the result of the gray hairs on my not-so-old boss’s head. It was part of the reason she’d hired me, so that she could spend more time at the hospital.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. “I thought the doctors recommended a place in New York, the one with the experimental treatments?”
Rose laughed without humor. “Yeah, and they won’t cover the cost of moving her there. I can barely afford Grant City as is.” She waved a hand. “But not to worry. Things have a way of working out.”
“I’m here if you need me,” I told her. “I can run the shop in your absence.”
Rose’s kind but weary smile appeared on her face. “Thank you, Aria. I’ll be sure to holler if I need you.” She cleared her throat, eager to change the subject. “We’ll be as busy as we were today through the rest of the holidays,” she said, arranging a few loose petals on the table absentmindedly. “Of course, we’re closed on Christmas Eve and Christmas day.”
I nodded a bit sullenly. I wasn’t particularly fond of the holidays. As a Peace Broker, I’d never celebrated Christmas or New Years, but living among the humans, I’d had plenty of opportunity to observe the festivities. Needless to say, observation was not always the most exciting of activities.
On top of that, people in general seemed to be sadder this time of year, which was strange, as from what I’d gathered the holiday season was meant to be the happiest of times. Ironically, as an Empath, I knew the opposite to be true. The weather grew colder, the plant life receded, and the world developed a state of stagnation. Those lacking the fortune of loved ones—or at least thinking and feeling they did—fell into sadness, and those with plenty took things for granted.
Not to mention the commercialism of it all. The constant adds, the increased traffic. Call me a Scrooge, but no, the holidays were far from my favorite time of year. Especially when there was a psychopath Warlock on the loose and a certain man from my past popping up out of the blue, threatening to flip my world over once again, so soon after I’d just got it settled.
“Aria,” Rose said, breaking me out of my thoughts. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Go on home before it gets dark.”
I did as I was asked, stepping out into the cool evening air and dropping my skateboard to the ground. Hopping aboard, I started off toward home.
When I got there, I would find that Nick Ramhart was waiting outside my apartment door.
And Thomas Reid was waiting beside him.
CHAPTER 12
If I was incapable of being smooth and suave in the presence of one hot guy, I invite you to imagine how cool I managed to be in the presence of two hot guys. With my strong nose, I picked up their scents before I even made it to the fourth floor of the apartment building, and I would be lying if I said the urge to turn back around and run away wasn’t strong within me.
Then, I told myself that this was my home, and I would not be run out of it by the awkward prospect of two different male figures in my life crossing paths. With my heart beating in my throat, I climbed to the fourth floor. Sure enough, there was Nick and Thomas.
“Welcome,” I said, and immediately resisted a face-palm. Welcome? What was I, an alien hostess?
Thomas merely quirked a dark brow, but Nick smirked in his characteristic way.
The landing in which we all stood was not a particularly large one. In fact, with the three of us, we were so close that I could hear their heartbeats, as well as the rapid pace of my own.
Looking at the floor to hide the roses that had blossomed on my cheeks, I slid between the two of them to reach my door. Once I got the key in the lock, I slipped in through the door and shut it behind me. I waited for ten whole seconds before I reopened it.
“Just kidding,” I said, enjoying the fact that leaving the two of them out there had made them appear as awkward as I felt. I stepped to the side of the doorway. “Come on in, guys. We might as well be uncomfortable inside.”
Thomas moved to enter, but Nick pushed past him so that he could enter first. Thomas didn’t respond to this slightly rude behavior with neither words nor change in expression, but the shift in his aura told me plenty.
Once we were inside the tiny apartment, I shut the door behind me and turned to face my visitors. “Thomas, this is Nick,” I said, needing desperately to break the silence. “Nick, this is Thomas.”
All we need is Caleb Cross, I thought, and we’d have a friggin’ party.
“Aria,” Nick said, “I think we should speak alone.”
Moving over to the fridge, I grabbed a random piece of pizza and began devouring it still cold. Don’t judge. I eat when I’m nervous. Or sad. Or breathing.
Around a bite, I said, “He already knows everything, Nick. Thomas is good people.”
Nick looked aghast, and I would’ve laughed at him if his next words didn’t piss me off so much. “He knows everything? Well, that was foolish.”
I hopped off the counter where I’d perched to enjoy my pizza and pointed my finger in Nick Ramhart’s face. He was tall, about the same height as Thomas, six-one or six-two, and I had to crane my neck back to look at him.
“You don’t get to judge me,” I snapped, jabbing my remaining pizza crust at him. “You don’t get to tell me anything.”
This came out sounding more petulant than I would’ve preferred, but it did the trick. Nick snapped his mouth shut and folded his arms over his wide chest, making the muscles in his arms stand out.
I decided I didn’t care about Nick Ramhart’s muscles. Not one bit.
Thomas had wandered over to the window, and it didn’t appear on his face, but I saw the golden amusement touch his aura and resisted the urge to chuck my pizza crust at him.
“The Scarecrow,” Thomas said in his cool and collected way. “We need to talk about how to catch the Scarecrow.”
“We?” Nick replied. “No offense, buddy, but the Scarecrow is a Warlock. Better to leave him to his own kind. You’re just a human. There’s nothing you can do.”
Surprising him as well as myself, I popped Nick on the back of the head with my open palm, the way a mother might a discourteous son.
“Dude,” I said. “Don’t be a dick.”
Again, Nick looked at me as if I had grown extra ears. He wasn’t used to this kind of behavior from me. In the Brokers, he’d always been my superior, and I would never have dared to speak to him in such a way. But things had changed. I wasn’t the same girl I’d been four months ago, when they’d tossed me out unceremoniously. I’m not sure when it had happened exactly, but I was somehow changed.
“Look, we all want the same thing here,” I said, when that awkward silence descended once again. “And if we work together, I’m sure things will be easier than if we’re divided… So can we just be cool, or what?”
“I’m totally cool,” said Nick.
“Totally,” mumbl
ed Thomas, without turning from the window.
I sighed. Outside, night was beginning to fall over Grant City, and soon, the shadows would creep in to take over the streets and sidewalks. Out there somewhere among them, the Scarecrow was waiting in the wings. There was no way to guarantee it, but I could feel the truth of this in my gut.
Also, Sam and Matt would be waiting for me at the warehouse. I figured now was as good a time as any to bring the whole gang together. Letting out a slow breath, and accepting the fact that this thing was getting too big for me to shoulder alone, I said, “I guess we might as well head to the lair.”
Despite the tenseness of the situation, the looks on both of their faces as I said this were priceless, and I laughed, because if I didn’t, I was afraid I might cry.
CHAPTER 13
If there was one thing I’d grown to count on in the past few months, it was the freedom I felt while leaping amongst the rooftops of Grant City on a moonlit night. It was like therapy for me—the wind in my hair, the assault on my senses. Second to hanging out with Sam, Matt, or Caleb, traveling by way of rooftop had quickly become my favorite thing to do.
Speaking of Caleb, I realized that I hadn’t heard from him all day, or the day before that, and not for the first time, I wondered what that boy was up to. Unlike most people, I didn’t mind that Caleb Cross seemed to fall off the Earth at varying intervals. I often did the same. But this didn’t stop me from coming up with ridiculous conclusions as to his whereabouts. The fact that his father, Dr. Christian Cross of the formidable Cross Corporation, was on my possible-villain list didn’t help, either.
Shoving this thought away, I landed on top of the old warehouse where Sam, Matt and I had set up our vigilante lair. Yes, I’m aware of how lame that sounds, but you should try telling Sam and Matt that.
“I will admit,” said Nick, as he landed lithely beside me, “that was kind of fun.”
