Shrouded in Darkness

by H. D. Thomson

  The front door stood closed, just as she’d left it. But whoever had been in the lab was now in the house. Call it gut, call it intuition, or just call it common sense.

  If Jake was the one inside, then why had he run from her and escaped out of the barn like that? It made no sense.

  But who else could it be? There wasn’t any other car in the driveway, no other sign of someone else other than Jake.

  Malcolm.

  She faltered on the stairs to the porch. No. It couldn’t be Malcolm. Jake had said something about jail and him not bothering her again. God only knew what that meant. She was afraid to even think about what Jake had been talking about.

  The front entrance showed no forced entry, no sign of someone breaking the lock. She groaned at her own stupidity. Of course not! She’d left the door unlocked. Stupid. Stupid. She should have known better after the last break-in.

  Margot grabbed the shovel resting up against the wall and hefted it in both hands to get a good feel of its weight. She wouldn’t hesitate to use it. Granted, she didn’t consider it the best of weapons, but it sure beat having nothing.

  With the shovel in one hand, Margot opened the door on silent hinges. She stepped inside, and closed the door with the heel of her boot. A quick glance found the place as she’d left it.

  Then she saw the water—little puddles of melted snow on the wood floor by her feet. She gripped the metal handle of the shovel tighter beneath her palms.

  Margot wasn’t alone.

  Her breathing, ragged and rapid, sounded far too loud in the empty foyer. She opened her mouth to call out but the words caught against her throat.

  The melted snow not only sprinkled the floor by her feet but further down the hall. She followed, all the while holding the shovel in a vice-like grip and high in the air. The puddles led right to Jake’s room. She stopped and stared at the closed door.

  She lowered the shovel.

  Jake. She’d slept with this man, done things with him in her bed that she’d never even done with Malcolm. She’d let herself become completely vulnerable, desperate with want and need, with a man filled with secrets. Mysteries that were dark, dangerous and far too frightening.

  What did she really know about him? Only the things he’d told her. Only what she’d really wanted to hear. And what was beyond the door? She knew he was in there right this minute. But what would she find?

  The last time she’d stood in front of this very door, Jake had been shut inside and filled with such heart-wrenching pain. Like a wounded animal, he’d turned his back on her to deal with it alone.

  Very carefully, fearful of making any sound, Margot turned the knob. It moved easily beneath her fingers. She eased the door open silently into the room, exposing the interior inside.

  Margot dropped the shovel. It clanged against the floor. The sound reverberated through the hall and into the bedroom.

  Whatever was inside froze.

  Shock glued her boots to the floor, froze her limbs, widened her eyes and locked the scream from getting past her throat.

  A pair of jeans, an opened shirt, and nothing in it. The clothing hung in mid-air. They both moved as if propelled by an invisible force.

  Pivoting, stumbling over feet that wouldn’t do what she wanted quickly enough, she raced down the hall. She slipped on the melted snow, almost fell, but grabbed the wall with the flat of her hand.

  “Margot!”

  Jake.

  But not Jake.

  What she’d seen wasn’t human.

  His cry didn’t stop her, but only made her more determined to get away. She almost slammed against the wall in her hurry to get out of the house. She fumbled with the knob, and bolted out, scrambling down the porch steps and away from the house.

  The car.

  No. The keys were in the house. In the kitchen. She didn’t dare go back.

  The lab. It had a lock, even a phone.

  Margot veered in that direction, sliding on a slab of ice. It knocked her feet from under her. She landed hard on her hands and knees. The fall stole the air from her lungs. Small, jagged rocks imbedded in the ice, cut into her jeans and the palms of her hands. The pain didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but getting away.

  He was following. She heard him from behind—his feet against the ground, his breathing, heavy, labored.

  “Margot! Stop!”

  She scrambled to her feet and leaped forward. Margot ran faster, ducked under a tree branch and dove through the snowdrifts, kicking up powdered snow into her face and hair. It hurt to breathe. She struggled for air as she wove through the pines and down the bank toward the lab.

  Another fifty yards and she’d make it.

  “Damn it!”

  Something grabbed her shoulder, something invisible, something not human. Margot yanked her shoulder from its grasp, but it latched on and wouldn’t let go. Forced to a stop, she turned around.

  “It’s me—Jake. Don’t be afraid—”

  But Margot was. How could she not? This thing in front of her didn’t exist, didn’t have shape or form. She lashed out, kicking into the pants, slamming her fist into the empty space below the shirt’s collar. Her hand connected with skin and bone, human flesh.

  She heard a grunt.

  It let go. She stumbled backward, almost falling at the unexpectedness of being free. Her hair slapped against her face and into her eyes, obscuring her vision. She scraped back the cold strands, pivoted on the slippery snow and raced toward the lab. Frigid air cut into her lungs as she struggled to catch her breath and push herself forward, but her body was weakening, her strength ebbing. Margot dodged past an aspen, a snow topped boulder, a fallen log. She slipped once, twice, but regained her balance both times. The lab door came into view. Twenty feet now. If she could just move faster, just—

  But she didn’t think she’d make it.

  It—he followed right behind, his breath at her neck. Knowing she couldn’t get into the lab and lock the door in time, she turned suddenly and rounded the building.

  She saw the garbage pail too late.

  Margot hit the metal can. She grunted. Her feet left the ground. The force propelled her sideways. The lab’s window raced toward her. Unable to slow the momentum of her fall, she covered her face with an arm. Then something collided from behind, pushing her backward. Glass shattered. Metal crashed.

  Then silence.

  ###

  Freedom. For a while there, Malcolm, had thought he’d never be able to smell it.

  He squinted into the sun. He’d made bail. Thanks to a damn good lawyer. But more importantly, he’d been released because of money. Money talked, money bought and sold people. Money was everything. Whoever said it couldn’t buy happiness fed themselves a line of bullshit because they didn’t have it.

  At an early age, he’d learned quickly that money opened doors, bought allegiance, power and fame. And the only way to get there was by rubbing shoulders with the upper echelon. So he’d lied and cheated his way into a prestigious college, made the right connections and worked like a damn dog. No way would he have it all taken away now.

  Malcolm brushed at the sleeves of his jacket. He couldn’t get the damn creases out. The minute he’d get home, he’d throw it in the trash. It stank of the hell-hole he’d just been in.

  Well, he needed to make a little visit to Arizona. Getting out of state might be a problem, but he’d figure a way. He might have hit a wall, but he’d either climb over it or blast his way through. Nothing would stand in his way of taking care of a couple of things, or more like a couple of people.

  Malcolm sneered. Oh, yeah. He hadn’t come this far to lose the game. While behind bars, he’d come up with the perfect solution and, at the same time, a way to get the formula. He’d use the weaker sex against Jake and his stupid principles. Of course, not any woman would do. Oh, no. But then again, Malcolm knew exactly which woman to use.

  Chapter 15

  Flat on her back, Margot opened her eyes. The barn rested
to her left, thrusting her in shadow, while to her right, pines knifed upward, stabbing into a vivid blue sky. She grew conscious of the frigid air against her exposed skin and the snow, wet and raw, seeping into her already damp jeans and hair.

  Digging into the snow with stiff fingers, Margot pushed herself into a sitting position. Turning, she saw the trash can she’d hit earlier on its side. The lid had snapped off, revealing an empty interior. Harmless looking now.

  Carefully, she brushed off glass intermingled with snow from her thigh, then scrambled awkwardly to her feet. Her head pounded at the sudden movement, but other than that and a few bruised muscles, she was uninjured.

  A low groan sounded from behind. Stiffening, she pivoted. Glass crackled beneath her booted feet.

  “Oh, God.”

  Tension snapped around her limbs. Jake, whoever or whatever, lay five feet away. Pants, shoes, and an opened shirt lay before her, but where flesh and muscle would normally be exposed to the eye, there was only a void.

  Cautiously, Margot walked over. Then she saw the crimson drops against the snow. Blood had seeped from what looked like a gash to Jake’s head, and then had trailed down to mesh and color a small patch of hair. The short strands were a stark contrast to the lack of substance around it.

  Sucking in a lungful of air, Margot sank down beside him. She glanced down at the ground by her knees and blinked. Before her eyes, an unmarked section of snow transformed, almost imperceptible at first, then accelerated with each rapid beat of her heart. The snow, once blinding white changed to faded pink, then dilated and darkened into a circle of vivid red. Blood. It had appeared from nowhere.

  Unsettled, Margot turned back to Jake. She now realized he’d thrown himself at her to stop her from crashing into the window. With a trembling hand, she touched where his face would normally be. Her fingers connected with skin, a jaw, then a cheek and temple as she ran them gently across where she knew a face would be. Even with the winter air all around them, what met her fingers felt warm and very much human.

  By his temple, Margot touched something hot and wet, but she couldn’t see anything against her fingers.

  Horrified, she suddenly knew...

  Jake’s blood. Blood that must be oozing from an unseen gash to his head. For some reason after leaving his body, Jake’s blood altered back to normal, or at least what appeared normal.

  Jake hadn’t flinched, hadn’t even moved from the touch of her hand. But she felt the warmth of his breath against her palm.

  Memories flashed through her mind—Jake appearing only after sunset, the cries in the night, the pictures in the hall dropping, the keys...which meant Johnny’s ghost had only been some silly aspiration on her part. Margot’s throat tightened. Not even a small part of her brother’s body or soul lingered on this world. Somehow, knowing that, made Johnny’s death cut that much deeper.

  Jake groaned.

  She snatched her hand back.

  “Margot...”

  Jake’s pain-filled whisper lingered in the air. It made her realize just how fragile and vulnerable Jake really was. Inside, he was still the same man as yesterday, with the same doubts, hopes and thoughts as before. Slowly, fear of him subsided, but with it, a new fear formed. A fear for Jake’s well being. From what Margot could tell, the gash to his head looked bad.

  At the unexpected touch of Jake’s palm around her wrist, Margo jerked in surprised but didn’t pull away. Warm pressure from his fingers met her skin, yet it was all so strange when that same hand was invisible to the naked eye. She took a stumbling breath. “We need to get you to a hospital.”

  “Can’t—”

  “Maybe if you lean on my shoulder, I can manage to get you to the car.”

  “No hospital.”

  She frowned. “What are you talking about? You’re hurt, Jake. You need stitches.”

  “A hospital’s out of the question. If I show up there, what the hell do you think’s going to happen? Absolute chaos. Not just with the doctors but with the patients.” He paused and inhaled sharply. “Within minutes word will get out. Reporters, the government, everyone will swarm down on us. I can’t let that happen.”

  With his hand still clasped around her wrist, Jake rose to a sitting position and swore in a low, gruff voice. . Obviously, he was in a lot of pain. Something needed to be done. But Jake had a point. The minute they both showed up at the hospital doors, people would react in ways neither one of them could predict.

  “I don’t know what to do then, Jake. There’s no doctor in town. All we have is a retired vet. Joni’s on the other side of town and—”

  “No.”

  She opened her mouth to argue but he cut her off.

  “I can’t have anyone know about me, the formula, or Miltronics. Too much is at stake.”

  “Then what, Jake? You’re cut bad. You’re losing a lot of blood. You need medical attention.”

  “You’re going to have to do it.”

  She recoiled. “What?”

  “Stitch it up. You’re the only one I can trust. It’s either that or just hope to hell it heals on its own.”

  Margot looked at what blood she could see. Even for a head wound, there seemed to be just too much of it. No doubt, more blood seeped from his cut that hadn’t yet materialized.

  When it came down to it what other option did they have?

  She swallowed. But even knowing that it all came down to her, Margot didn’t know if she could do it. She’d always hated blood. For God’s sake, she couldn’t even handle donating to the blood bank.

  “You don’t know what you’re asking. I can’t see what I’m doing. It’s like asking a blind person to sew a quilt.”

  “You’ll have to go by touch.”

  After a long pause, Margot gave a jerky nod and stood. She brushed her cold hands against her jacket and held up a hand for him to clasp. She felt his fingers close over her own and the pull as he rose to his feet. He stumbled in the snow and knocked up against her. Then the unexpected weight of his body as Jake draped an arm around her shoulder almost buckled her legs from under her. Balancing his additional weight, she wrapped one arm around his waist and held onto his forearm with the other.

  The snow and patches of ice sure didn’t help as they both stumbled their way up the hill. Margot clenched her jaw. She was going to get him up to the house or die trying.

  Then there was Jake. She knew he tried to keep most of his weight off her, but she could tell he was losing what little energy he had from the way his body sank deeper against her own with each additional step. By the time they reached the porch, she was winded and shaking from exhaustion, while her shoulders and leg muscles burned from supporting Jake’s weight.

  She had a good idea Jake felt worse than herself. Granted, Margot couldn’t see his expression as they staggered up the stairs to the house, but she could feel the tremble of his body against her own and hear the rapid, strained breathing beside her.

  After they entered his bedroom, Jake sank hard onto the mattress. The bed springs groaned in protest as he stretched out across the mattress, while Margot rubbed her neck and shoulders. At the following silence and stillness from the bed, she tensed.

  “Jake. Please don’t pass out on me. Not now. You probably have a concussion. Sleep’s the last thing you should be doing.”

  “Tell that to my body.”

  Jake’s weak attempt at humor was at least a good sign.

  “Are you hurt anywhere else? I didn’t see anything.” Margot realized how ridicules that sounded. Of course she couldn’t see anything. There wasn’t anything to see.

  “No broken bones I think. Probably just a couple of bruises. At least nothing serious, other than my head.”

  After hurrying into the kitchen and bathroom, Margot put a bowl of hot water, several towels, antiseptic, and a small first aid kit on the bed stand beside Jake. She’d also found some thread and a package of needles. Florence Nightingale, she was not. Right now, she wished she’d seen a couple of rer
uns from the ER series. Actually, any television show with a hospital would have helped right now. She hadn’t a clue what she was doing.

  After Margot sterilized the needle and thread with rubbing alcohol, she squared her shoulders. She needed to calm down. If only the tremor in her hand would go away! She really needed a drink right now.

  No. A drink wouldn’t solve anything. In reality, it would only make it that much more dangerous by dulling her senses and clouding her judgment. Margot didn’t even want to think of what would’ve happened if she’d been drinking before all this, because it terrified the hell out of her.

  She sat down on the edge of the bed. The muscles of her shoulders and back bunched with tension as she peered at the wound or what little she could see of it. At least a thin veneer of blood from before offered some visibility.

  Jake must have sensed her doubts.

  “Don’t worry, Margot. You’ll do fine.”

  For both their sakes, she hoped he was right. She forced a smile. Jake didn’t need to know that she shook right down to her toes.

  “You know, I trust you. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

  Margot stilled and her smile wavered. “Don’t say that. How can you? I don’t even trust myself.”

  “It’s simple really. I believe in you.”

  She felt the sudden sting of tears at the back of her eyes. Jake’s words moved her like none other had. No one, absolutely no one in her life had believed in her other than Johnny. Quickly, Margot looked down at the thread in her hand, wanting to, but unable to, express how much it meant to her to have Jake think highly of her.

  Abruptly, Margot stood and muttered, “You give me too much power. No one’s ever put that much faith in me—including myself.”

  She grabbed a towel from the nightstand and sat back down by Jake’s shoulder. Margot didn’t talk as she worked. She needed to pour all her concentration on seaming both sides of Jake’s skin together. Oh, but it was hard. She felt his silence, his pain as his breath fanned against her throat. A soft hiss slipped through his lips every time the needle punctured his skin. Margot knew she was hurting him, but she didn’t have any other choice.