Burning Darkness

by Jaime Rush

  That flicker again, though Pope’s voice remained neutral. “Possibly, if they knew his mistake exposed our dimension to yours. And since I knew about it and did not report it, I now have committed an act of treason.”

  Eric leaned back in his chair. This was way better than being a friggin’ alien. “So where do Malcolm and Neil fit into all this?”

  “They are two of our people who live here. Obviously, Malcolm has done an exemplary job, which is why no one believed me when I tried to report that they were up to no good. Not to mention they are the sons of one of the leaders. I suspected they’d killed their last Liaison, Simeon, who disappeared. I believe it is a form of his Essence they used to infect people. They were seduced by the emotions here and began to crave chaos, something lacking in our dimension.”

  Eric asked the question that probably nobody wanted to think about. “What happens if this Collaborate finds out about us?”

  “They will destroy you. You have the potential to expose our DNA, and thus, our dimension. We don’t want humans to find the portals. Occasionally they do, and they are immediately destroyed. That is why your people sometimes disappear without a trace.”

  Rand leaned forward. “So UFOs, weird phenomena, that’s you guys?”

  “Or those from other dimensions.” He looked at Nicholas. “All those parts you saw at the warehouse, those were from rogue or errant planes. I store them in a building I can make disappear at will.”

  “You let us find it,” Nicholas said.

  “I wanted to see what you would do, just as when I hired you to find that piece of aircraft with the symbol on it.” He nodded toward the Eye on Eric’s arm. “I see you’ve adopted it.”

  Zoe said, “That’s why I dreamed it. Because it’s in my DNA. But what does it mean?”

  “It is a symbol for highly elite pilots and spies. My father was one of those. He was training in an experimental aircraft when he lost control and came through a crack.”

  Eric nodded, relieved that the Eye wasn’t for the Collaborate itself. “That’s cool.” He grinned, looking at his tattoo. “The highly elite.”

  Petra rolled her eyes. “Oh, brother.”

  Pope stood. “I’m being summoned back. They have obviously sensed that I used my power to kill.”

  Fonda stood, too, facing him. “Can’t you just stay here?”

  “If I stay, I become a Scarlett, an outlaw, the very thing I am sometimes tasked with hunting down. I would dishonor my family and disrupt a long history of high-ranking service to our leader. But I will not reveal your existence. Unless I am mind-scanned.”

  Eric stood, too, feeling strange looking so far up to the man. “How many of us are there? There were only so many people in the program.”

  “My sister,” Nicholas said.

  “Jerryl had a sister, too,” Fonda said.

  “Cheveyo,” Petra said, her eyes getting gooey and dewy. “Maybe he’ll come around now.”

  Pope said, “More Offspring than you think. One of the participants donated sperm to a bank for infertile couples.” His eyes sparkled at that, or maybe it was the words that came next as he looked at Amy. “By the way, you’re pregnant. Eat well and take care of yourself. Oh, one more thing: Eric, Zoe, Lucas, the phony charges against you have mysteriously disappeared from your police computers. You’re free to go back to your lives, all of you.”

  There was a flash of light, and he was gone.

  “That’s wild,” Rand said, scrubbing his fingers through his spiky hair.

  Petra stalked over and shoved at Eric’s chest. “You fell in love! You, of all people. That is so totally unfair.” She stomped off.

  Eric looked at Fonda and shrugged. “She’s just jealous because she can’t be with the guy she’s in love with.”

  A moment later Petra ran back toward him and threw her arms around him. “I love you. I was so worried about you!”

  He hugged her back. “I love you, too. Cheveyo will come around one of these days.”

  She leaned back, hope on her face. “You think so?”

  Not really, but heck, what did he know? “Sure, why not?”

  Amy hugged him, too, and introduced herself to Fonda. Then they were all thanking her for saving Eric’s life, and before long Fonda’s defensive demeanor melted. When conversation shifted to Amy being pregnant, to their lives now, Eric took Fonda’s hand and turned to the group. “We’re heading out. I don’t think I ever want to see this place again.”

  There was a murmur of agreement.

  He leaned close to her ear. “Give me one more minute.” He looked at Lucas. “Bro.” He nodded toward the storage room behind the kitchen.

  “You’ve forgiven Amy?” he asked when they were alone.

  “Yeah.”

  “Fonda tried to kill me. That’s how we met, and please keep that to yourself. But because she lured me out that night, I didn’t get trapped here. So in a way, she saved all of us by trying to kill me, as crazy-assed as that sounds. Because Amy gave you the antidote, you didn’t go insane and join them. It might have gone a lot worse if you had. So go beyond forgiving her. Get down on your knees and thank her. You know I’m no expert at love—”

  Lucas’s laugh was more like a bark. “You’re a total newbie. So you’re not angry that Fonda gave you the antidote?”

  Eric shook his head. “My woman did what she had to do to save me. I don’t know if it was out of love then, but she cared enough to risk her safety to get me to Magnus’s. She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s going to be putting up with me for a long, long time. I’m sorry I gave you such a hard time about getting involved. I can see that when you meet the right one, logic goes out the window.”

  Lucas held out his hand, and Eric clasped it in a shake. “Welcome to the crazy world of love. Best place to be.”

  Eric knew everything would be all right. He could go now. He went back, grabbed Fonda’s hand, and pulled her into his room. “Remember this place?”

  Her cheeks colored. “I feel awful about that.”

  He swung her into his arms. “You saved not only my life, but all of our lives, because you tried to kill me.”

  “Huh?”

  “I’ll ’splain later. I want to pack up my stuff. I’ll come back for the paintings, or maybe, since I now have my own sensual, alluring woman, I won’t need them anymore.” He tightened his hold on her. “I do have my own sensual, alluring woman, right?”

  She stepped out of his arms and turned toward the door, and he got a sinking feeling in his stomach. But she didn’t walk out. She closed the door, turned, and threw herself against him, burying her face against his chest.

  “I love you, I love you, I love you,” she said on a breath, over and over again, like a burst dam. Her fingers tangled in his hair, and her emotions saturated her voice.

  Hearing those words filled every hole in his soul, every need, every want. He held her close, stroking her back. “Hey, hey, hey, are you all right?”

  He bracketed her face and pulled back to look at her. Tears shined on her cheeks and dotted her eyelashes.

  “I’ve been fighting everything I’ve felt for you for so long, first because I was supposed to hate you, then because I was afraid that what I felt was the protection thing, then because I was afraid . . .” She wiped at her tears, shaking her head. “I didn’t risk my life to take you to Magnus’s because of a fear of feeling guilty. I saved you because, even then, I loved you. I didn’t want to admit it, even to myself, but I know it now.

  “What you did to me, touching me so tenderly it almost hurt, what you said before we left the motel, God, Eric, you killed me, just killed me right there. But we had to go, and all I could think about was telling you I loved you, but it was such a bad time to do that. When I saw Malcolm shoot one of those bolts right through you, and I thought you were dead . . .” She squeezed her eyes shut, more tears streaming out.

  He rubbed them with his thumbs and then kissed them away.

  She smiled. “See,
this is the kind of thing that made me love you. You’re sexy as hell, fantastic in bed, strong, gorgeous, but none of that mattered. Do you have any idea how incredible you are?”

  He laughed, leaning close to kiss her mouth. “No, but keep telling me.”

  “Take me home, Eric. To our home. I want you in my bed for the rest of my life.”

  He widened his eyes. “You mean like a sex slave?” He pretended to mull it over, his finger on his chin. “Mm, I like that idea.”

  She nudged him, and he grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles. She walked over to the painting of the female angel, a man kneeling before her. “Let’s keep this one. It’ll look great in our living room.” She turned back to him. “Let’s go home.”

  Home. He liked the sound of that. No, he loved the sound of it. He pulled her into his arms. “I already am, baby.”

  Acknowledgments

  A big fat thank you to everyone who helped me get things right:

  Steve Kantor for answering plane questions, like how to murder someone via prop! Good thing you know I’m a writer. And a shout out to Anne Marie, too!

  Antonio “Tony” Sanchez, MSM, CLET, Captain, Biscayne Park Police Department . . . you da best!

  To critique bud Marty Ambrose.

  To Terri Garey for vintage clothing help, and for writing fun ghost books.

  To Eric and Fonda, for being such fabulous and fun characters to write. You made writing my story so easy.

  To my editor, Tessa Woodward, and my agent, Joe Veltre, for your guidance, support, and enthusiasm.

  To my support team at Avon, including but not limited to Pamela Spengler-Jaffee, Shawn Nicholls, Megan Traynor, and Wendy Ho.

  Here’s a sneak peek at

  Book Five

  in the Offspring series!

  Petra Aruda leaned back and surveyed the woman in front of her with a critical eye. “You are so going to knock ’em dead.”

  Sharla’s eyes lit up, which was saying something now that they were properly lined and shadowed, just a hint of mascara. Perfect for a job interview.

  Sharla took in her reflection and let out a whistle. “You sure know your stuff. Were you a model or something?”

  Petra was jotting down makeup tips. “Or something.” Not that she was embarrassed about having been a Hooter’s waitress. It was why she’d become one that bothered her. She handed the paper to Sharla. “Good luck. You can do it.”

  “Thank you for doing this.” She gestured to the outfit Petra had chosen, a professional suit and skirt from the store at the Women’s Center for Independence.

  “I enjoy it.” Actually, she loved it.

  She smiled as Sharla gave her a quick hug and zipped off, looking at her reflection for as long as she could.

  Gwen Stefani’s “Hollaback Girl” trilled from Petra’s purse, a big plum bag she’d bought yesterday to go with her witchy boots. She pulled out her pink phone and stared at the number: no one she knew. She almost tossed it back into the bag but something stopped her. If it were a telemarketer, she’d just hang up.

  She answered, and a man’s low, smooth voice said, “Petra?”

  Her breath hitched for a second before she realized it wasn’t him. “Yes?”

  “It’s Pope.”

  Pope. It took a moment to register. She’d only met him once, but the man had gone against the rules to save her and the lives of those she cared most about. They hadn’t heard from him in three months, since he went home to his dimension to face the consequences.

  “You’re back? And all right?” she asked.

  “I’m back,” he said, not answering the second question. “Eric gave me your number. I need to meet with you as soon as possible.”

  Her heart plunged, sucking away her breath. No, not again. No more running for her life, getting shot at. “There’s not . . . we’re not . . .” She couldn’t even utter the words in danger again.

  “You’re all fine. I’ll explain more when I see you. Can we have lunch?”

  “Sure. Do you know where Sally Sue’s is?” She gave him the general location.

  “I’ll find it. See you in a few minutes.”

  Her throat was tight as she looked for the shift supervisor. The Women’s Center helped those who were out of work and needed a makeover, job skills, and more importantly, self-confidence. Petra volunteered her time and skills as often as her classes allowed.

  “I’ve got a family issue,” she told the woman in the office. “I’ll try to get back before my afternoon class.”

  What could Pope want to talk with her about? The question weighed heavily in her chest as she got into her bright yellow VW Bug and drove to Sally Sue’s in downtown Annapolis. If he needed help, he could ask any of the other Rogues, like the ones who had balls, literally or figuratively. She wanted to forget about those six weeks of Hell with a capital H. Being hunted by the government, having someone mind-control her into trying to kill herself, running around with guns . . . H-E-L-L. All caps. The last time she thought it was finally over, they’d had to go back to the Tomb and hide again.

  Yes, everything about those six weeks, she reminded the little voice that whispered, Are you sure you want to forget about him, too?

  She was in full fidget mode by the time she walked into the noisy seafood restaurant that overlooked the docks in downtown Annapolis. Pope was sitting at a table near the window, and her gaze was drawn to him as though he’d mentally flagged her down. Well, he probably had. She sat down across from him and forced a smile. Her brother, Eric, had pretty much squashed her habit of cracking her knuckles, but she’d picked up a new one: braiding her hair.

  His light violet eyes held not a trace of anything to give her a hint about the reason behind his cryptic summons.

  “You came back,” she said. “Does that mean things went well over there?”

  Please, please let things have gone well.

  People glanced over at them, though it was Pope who commanded their attention. At six-foot-five, with a shaved head and dramatic, defined features, he was striking. He seemed to either ignore or not notice the attention he garnered.

  Pope shook his head, and only spoke when the waitress came over to take their order. He ordered nothing but ice tea; she ordered a latte, glad when the waitress departed so she could hear more.

  “I stood before the Collaborate and had to explain why I used my powers in a deadly way,” Pope began. “They can track us while we’re in this dimension, at least when we use our major powers. They didn’t believe that their agents had turned bad. They mind-scanned me and saw deception. They locked me away, neutralized my deadly abilities, intending to do a SCANE on me. Something like your lobotomy, only they extract your memories, your knowledge. That the subjects usually don’t survive it is a nice side benefit for them.”

  She inhaled a deep breath at the thought of it, and of his facing the panel of leaders who resembled a powerful United Nations. “How did you escape?”

  “It took several weeks, as my counsel tried to appeal, dragging out the process much like your own legal system here. When their appeal failed, I escaped. Now I am a Scarlett.”

  Only then did she see a flicker of emotion, perhaps disappointment or shame.

  “An outlaw.” Like those he had been tasked to hunt during his tenure with the Collaborate.

  Her hand automatically went to her chest. “You saved our lives but put your own in danger. I’m sorry.”

  “I can live with that. Or . . . not.” He actually smiled, that grin that looked so out of place on him. “But the Extractor they’ve sent to hunt me down is very dangerous. He is what you call ‘evil’ here. I have known him for many years. He came here on independent business before he joined the C.”

  “You want our help to get rid of this guy? Because we will. You helped us, after all.” Oh, boy. Here comes that scary feeling again. Three months of being normal was addicting. She wasn’t sure she could give that up.

  “Just one of you.”

  He
r eyes widened. “Me? B-But I’m not all that great at this killing stuff, and I don’t have any deadly powers, just healing and hearing, and I’ve got this habit of—”

  “Rambling?”

  “Yeah, and freaking out.” Already her fingers automatically worked the long strands her hair.

  The waitress brought their drinks. Petra looked at her. “Nothing else for me.” The thought of eating turned her stomach.

  The waitress looked at Pope, who waved away any order he might have as well.

  When she left, he said, “You did well, Petra. You overcame a lot.” He gave her that smile again. “But it is not your help I require. Cheveyo is the one I seek.”

  His name thrummed in her veins, which was quite annoying. “Cheveyo? Why him?”

  “The rest of you have been through enough.”

  A hysterical laugh bubbled out of her. “You got that right.” She must be schizo, because she actually felt let down that he wasn’t asking for her help. “So you’re telling me this because . . .”

  “I’ve heard you have a connection to him.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You talked to Eric.”

  “He said you two had a . . .” He waved his hands, but he was having trouble saying the words. Had he ever been with someone romantically? Had he been in love with someone and felt the ache of their loss? Probably not.

  Finally he said, “Something about you being gooey and dewy whenever you saw him. Can you explain the meaning?”

  “Never mind.” She rolled her eyes. “Argh. Eric, who gave everybody a hard time about falling in love while we were in danger and then fell the hardest.” That still stung, that her boneheaded little brother found love, that everyone she knew was all cozied up in their lives—except her.

  Pope was watching her with curiosity. “I sense anger from you.”

  “You can sense my feelings?”

  “Since our feelings have been bred out of us over recent generations, they are that much more apparent in humans. Like a loud sound in a quiet marsh.”

  She forced a smile. “It’s not anger, only frustration.” She waved it away. “Anyhoo, I saw the man twice. Yeah, maybe I was a little gooey and dewy—hate that expression—but that’s only because he’s mysterious and sexy, and he looks so much like Lucas, who I had a crush on for years. Not to mention that Cheveyo saved my life, and we kissed.” The memory still gripped her, just as it did every time she thought about the damned kiss, which was hardly ever. “I haven’t heard boo from him since he said goodbye when he thought we were all going to die.” Yeah, she was rambling again. “I mean, three months have passed, life is back to normal, and still, not even a lousy call.” Okay, it hurt. She thought she’d shored herself better. “He’s never told me why we can’t be together, other than it being dangerous for all of us. Whatever that means. I’m not gooey and dewy anymore.” She latched onto her braid again. “I’m so over him.”