Touching Darkness

by Jaime Rush

  Ringing. Which meant he wasn’t dead. The man slumped across him, and Nicholas shoved him away and got to his feet. His frantic mind figured out what happened: Lucas had shot him.

  Lucas looked at him. “Thanks for covering me.”

  “Yeah. You, too.” But Nicholas couldn’t help staring at the man’s dark form. He was groaning, still alive.

  “Let’s find Eric.”

  They followed the sounds of bodies colliding, then a loud splash. Two men were slugging it out, waist high in the creek. Moonlight shimmered on the surface of the roiled water.

  Jerryl’s voice: “How the hell do you keep not dying? You and Lucas. He took a bullet in the chest. You shot yourself, hit an artery. You should have bled out.”

  Eric’s voice: “I’m going to tear your head off.”

  Lucas aimed the gun. “Eric! Back away!”

  “No way! He’s mine.”

  Lucas let out a frustrated curse.

  Nicholas started to move forward. “I’m going in. Eric needs help.”

  Jerryl had his hands around Eric’s throat and was trying to throw him off balance. Lucas grabbed Nicholas’s shoulder. “Wait. As soon as Jerryl steps back one inch, I’ll have him.”

  Eric kicked at Jerryl’s legs, making him step back and loosen his grip. He lunged for him again.

  Lucas stood rigid. “Eric, move!”

  “No!”

  Lucas let out a sigh. “Stubborn son of a bitch. I ought to nick him.” At Nicholas’s horrified look, he said, “I’m kidding. Sort of.”

  Jerryl kicked Eric, sending him staggering back. Jerryl took advantage and came at him, trying to push him into the water. Eric resisted. The whole scene was surreal as the men struggled, their movements deteriorating into fatigued sluggishness. Eric slammed his fist into Jerryl’s side. Jerryl kicked Eric’s legs, buckling his knees and sending him down into the water. A shot startled Nicholas even though he’d been half expecting it.

  Jerryl dove for the water as Eric fell backward in the other direction. He launched up and searched the water, but Jerryl left no clue to indicate his presence.

  Eric turned to them. “What’d you do that for, bro? I almost had him!” He started slogging through the water, his gaze still searching the water.

  “Didn’t look that way to me,” Lucas said.

  Nicholas walked to the edge of the creek and held out his hand to help him out. Eric ignored that and struggled up the bank. Water sluiced off a body built like a truck. Anger radiated off him in waves.

  “Let’s get out of here. I disabled one guy back there.” Lucas nodded behind him. He didn’t sound too happy about it. “There could be others.”

  When they reached the road, an old, tricked-out car was waiting for them. He recognized the driver from the pictures Darkwell had given him when she was his target: Amy Shane. She was smaller in person and looked like a kid with the spray of faint freckles across her cheeks and nose.

  Another man ran out from down the road: Rand. “I heard gunshots. Everyone all right?” He took in a wet, angry Eric. “Dude, what happened?”

  Eric held his fingers an inch apart. “I was this close to drowning the bastard, and Lucas shot at him.” He took off his shirt and wrung it out as he walked to the car. “He got away.”

  Lucas mimicked Eric’s gesture. “He was this close to getting drowned.”

  They piled into the car, Nicholas and Lucas in the back, and took off down the road. Rand drove the motorcycle Nicholas had ridden on the back of in Baltimore.

  Amy, in the passenger seat, made a quick call. “Everything went fine. We’ll be back in an hour.”

  Nicholas felt all the energy drain out of his body. He slumped back in the seat. “Thanks for coming.” An understatement. They’d saved his life.

  Lucas’s expression shadowed. “I was surprised you called…after what happened to Robbins.”

  Nicholas told them why he’d decided they could be trusted.

  Amy said, “We had a similar revelation. If you’d been part of the setup at your house, you wouldn’t have left all of that neat stuff out. We could tell they were special.”

  Lucas ran his hand down his face. “The question for you is, now what? Unfortunately, you’re a target. The way I see it, you have two choices: go into hiding until we can take out Darkwell, or…”

  “You join us,” Amy said. “You know what we’re up against. It’s going to be dangerous to get the truth, to conquer our enemies. It’s all or nothing.”

  It wasn’t a choice. No way was Nicholas going to hide out. Their enemies were now his enemies. Their truth, his truth. “I’m in.”

  Eric, who was driving, said, “You’d better not change your mind. You were an enemy once.”

  Lucas turned to Nicholas. “Have any of you ever seen our hideout or pinpointed its location?”

  “No, it’s got some kind of block around it. We—they only know it’s in Annapolis.”

  Lucas said, “You said you had my mother’s folder in your hand?”

  Nicholas clenched his fist. “Yep. I’ve had my father’s folder in my hand twice. Caught both times.”

  Eric twisted around. “You are going to tell us where Darkwell’s place is, right? We need to get those folders. They have the answers to everything.”

  Nicholas remembered the two times the Rogues had broken into the asylum. “Is that all you want?”

  “Well, that and to blow away anyone I happen upon,” Eric said.

  “Innocent people work there.”

  Eric’s mouth twisted. “Like who?”

  “Staff. They don’t know what he’s doing. Even the guards are just following orders. They think you’re terrorists.” And now they thought he was, too.

  Eric shrugged. “Then we just take out Darkwell and his two stooges.”

  Nicholas winced. Until today he’d been one of those stooges. “I saw what you did to that guy at the asylum. You went nuts.”

  Eric glanced back. “You’d go nuts, too, if someone had your sister at gunpoint, and you had some asshole in your head taunting you. That’s what your buddy over there can do, you know. That was the first time. The second time he tried to get me to shoot my friends at your house.”

  Amy’s expression was sober. “He shot himself instead.”

  Nicholas cringed, remembering the conversation in the woods. “I felt him. He tried to get me to surrender. Instead of fighting him, I pushed him out.” He turned to Lucas. “I can understand why you shot Robbins. Jerryl pulled the trigger, not you.”

  Lucas’s expression was guilt-ridden. “It was different for me. Whoever was in my head took over.” No way had he done it on purpose.

  Eric was staring at Nicholas with narrowed eyes. “Are you protecting Darkwell? Is that why you’re reluctant to tell us where this place is?”

  “No.”

  “Who are you protecting?”

  “All I’ve seen you do is barge in guns blazing.” He remembered the scene at the hospital. No way could he put Olivia through that again. This time she might not be spared. Nicholas met Eric’s surly expression. “Come up with a plan that’s safe for the people who work for Darkwell, and I’ll give you the location.” He turned back to Lucas. “When you were giving me directions from the park, Rand said you got a storm.”

  Lucas nodded. “I saw you getting shot. The images come so fast and violent I can hardly get a handle on the details. I saw the woods and Jerryl coming up behind you, and blood and…well, you get the idea. I knew we had to get you out of there.”

  “You get premonitions then.”

  Amy said, “Lucas is also a dreamweaver; he can get into other people’s dreams.”

  “Are you also immortal? Jerryl said you wouldn’t die.”

  They looked at each other, silently deciding what to tell him. Eric said, “I don’t think we should—” at the same time as Amy said, “One of us can heal.”

  “Like miraculously heal?”

  Eric held up his hand. “Don’t tell hi
m any more.”

  Amy said, “Darkwell already knows what some of our skills are. He knows I see glows, people’s auras. Eric remote-views and—” She turned when he cut his hand across his throat.

  “Wow. Wow.” Nicholas scrubbed his fingers through his hair. This is wild.

  Eric turned back. “What can you tell us about this other Offspring Robbins warned us about?”

  “I heard nothing about someone else coming aboard. But Robbins was very nervous those last few days.”

  Lucas’s face was still haunted. “He said the new Offspring was the last straw.”

  “A month ago we were all normal”—Amy looked at Eric—“well, mostly normal people going about our lives. We had our secrets, of course, but mostly they were just annoying or embarrassing and isolating. But we’re here. And we’re not isolated anymore. We have each other. That makes us more than a team; it makes us almost family. We expect your loyalty, and we’ll give you ours. Unless you go off half-cocked”—Amy shot another look at Eric—“we have your back.”

  Nicholas said, “I’ll have your back, too. But I’m not willing to put anyone who’s innocent at risk of getting killed in the cross fire.”

  Lucas tilted his head. “None of us want to kill, but this is a war. Like tonight, we have to do things we never thought we’d do.”

  Nicholas shivered at those words and something that would forever be seared in his memory. “I saw you jump between a bullet and two women at the asylum.”

  “One of Darkwell’s men was about to shoot her.” He looked at Amy. “You do that kind of thing when you love someone. Petra’s like a sister to me. And Amy…she’s my life. I’d die for either one of them. I’d kill for them, too. You might end up in that same situation. You’d better think about what you’re prepared to do.”

  “Killing someone goes against everything I believe in. Everything I am.”

  Lucas’s words were low and ominous. “Everything you are, my friend, is about to change.”

  CHAPTER 14

  Olivia waited for word in her father’s office for what seemed like hours. She had the overpowering urge to nibble her thumbnail, an old habit her father had hammered out of her long ago. Fonda, the other independent contractor in the program, stood, worry for her lover’s safety wracking her features. She could chew her nails all she wanted; she didn’t have a father who’d slap her hand and tell her how undignified it was.

  Gerard’s phone rang, and he snapped it up. Olivia tensed as he listened to whoever was on the other end.

  “All right.” He huffed a long, disappointed breath she’d heard many times. “Come on back.”

  As soon as he hung up, Fonda asked, “Is Jerryl all right?”

  “He’s fine.” He met Olivia’s gaze. “The Rogues were there to rescue Nicholas. He was obviously in contact with them.”

  The betrayal cut so deep, she realized she’d been holding out hope for some other explanation. The pain engulfed her like a tsunami, stealing away her breath. He had chosen lawlessness over her, just as her mother had chosen freedom. Nicholas had used her, and the worst part was, she’d misjudged him terribly.

  “The bad news: No one on their side was killed.” Gerard continued, “The good news is no one on our team was killed either, though Paul Emmert was shot in the upper chest.”

  Olivia’s hand went to her mouth. “Is he going to be okay?”

  “He’s being taken for treatment now.”

  “Did…Nicholas shoot him?”

  “No, it was one of the others. We’re going to have to step up security around here. Nicholas has undoubtedly told them where we are. It’s a good thing we didn’t tell him much.” He gave her a pointed look. Like that you’re my daughter.

  Her face blanched, a dead giveaway she’d been unable to tame. Luckily, he’d looked at the computer that contained views from their security cameras. “You both have to be very careful. Now that an insider has turned traitor, you’re in danger.”

  Fonda jumped to her feet, her hands fisted at her sides. “I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time now. Instead of rapists and drug dealers, my enemies are terrorists. No big deal.”

  “Terrorists with weapons different than anything you’ve ever encountered,” Gerard reminded her.

  She gave him a smile. “But I’ve got a weapon, too. I’m going downstairs to wait for Jerryl.”

  For a small woman, Fonda packed more energy than anyone else Olivia knew. And passion. Subdued dignity had been drilled into Olivia. She could never display that kind of piss and vinegar in front of her father.

  She did have that passion, though. Hadn’t it roared out of her in the kitchen with Nicholas? And at other times.

  “Nicholas wouldn’t hurt me.”

  “Did you think he’d turn traitor on us?”

  She paused, then shook her head.

  “Exactly. I saw that romance novel you stashed in your desk drawer. Whatever you think love is, it’s not what’s in those books. That’s fiction. Those insipid feelings that make you giddy and your eyes hazy also numb your brain and make you stupid. You’re a Darkwell, and with that comes intelligence, cunning, and sensibility. While I’ve tried to instill in you feminine values, this is war, and you are now a soldier. Every time he talked to you, flirted with you, he had one goal in mind: find out what he could. Use you. If that hurts, good. Next time you’ll listen to me.”

  She stood, every word like a dart aimed at her heart. “Thanks for setting me straight.” She left, needing to release all of the anger and pain inside her. Damn, if it were only Thursday night. She desperately wanted to knock someone down.

  She went down to the kitchen and poured a glass of wine. The hell with it. She grabbed the whole bottle and started up to her room. As she crossed the bridge that led to the east wing, she heard Jerryl’s harsh voice.

  “I’m going to kill him, him and Nicholas. I knew he was up to something the night Robbins got whacked. He was there, too, remote-viewing it. I could sense him. I could have had him tonight if Eric and Lucas hadn’t showed up. I don’t understand it. Those sons of bitches won’t die. Nicholas went for me, and I lost my gun. Then Eric comes after me, and we end up in the creek slugging it out. I was too busy fighting to get into his head.”

  He paused when he saw Olivia standing on the bridge. His wet—and bloodstained—clothes were plastered to his muscular body. His eyes were swollen with bruises beneath them.

  He’d said Robbins had gotten whacked. Killed. Her father said they only suspected he was dead, but Jerryl seemed to know for sure.

  What did he mean by “remote-viewing”?

  She locked herself in her room and cranked her stereo, choosing the classical channel. She took off her blouse and pants and put them in the hamper. She started moving to Swan Lake, trying to remember those ballet moves from years ago when her father had forced her to take ballet lessons. Neither the music nor the dancing was soothing her, so she changed the channel to Octane, Pure Hard Rock, and felt the drumbeat pulsing inside her. This she could move to, not to relax but to exorcise her anger.

  She was stuck in the trap of pretending to be someone she wasn’t and worrying about disappointing her father. But right now, while she was completely alone, she could be herself.

  And who is that, a voice challenged. She ignored it and kept dancing.

  Nicholas was about to learn what Darkwell most sought: the Rogues’ hideout. They drove down a formerly residential street that was now galleries and stores. Shortly after, they pulled onto a gravel road, then into a stand-alone garage. Rand was already inside, waiting by his motorcycle.

  Once the garage door went down, everyone got out. The air was fresh and cool, filled with the sound of rustling leaves and the distant hum of traffic. They walked across the yard to an old shed. Eric unlocked the door, and, when they were crammed inside, relocked it.

  Lucas knelt and hoisted a trapdoor in the floor. “Follow me.” He disappeared into a vertical tunnel.

  Nicholas
climbed the metal rungs and landed on the ground a minute later. Once they were all at the bottom of the ladder, they headed down a concrete tunnel. Footsteps echoed, and the air was damp and still. It was eerie, like being led to slaughter. His throat tightened at that thought. Lights dimly lit the long expanse. They walked for several minutes before reaching what looked like a blank wall at the end of the tunnel. Eric blocked Nicholas’s view as he punched in a code on a keypad. The wall slid open with a beep.

  Nicholas blinked, bombarded by both light, color, and two more faces looking expectantly at him. One was a tall beauty with long, straight, blond hair. She smiled with relief. “Back safe and sound.” After a nervous laugh, she stepped forward. “I’m Petra.”

  “The one who told me the truth.” He’d studied her picture often enough when he’d been ordered to target her. He turned to the looker with short, dark red hair and plump lips he’d met before. “Zoe.” He shook her hand. She wasn’t wearing as much makeup as the first time he’d seen her.

  After hearing how vicious the Rogues were, he was relieved to see there weren’t piles of guns and ammo on the long dining table near the kitchen. In fact, their hideout looked homey. He took in the space, one large room with a big pit group and artist’s easel in the other half. A hallway led to more rooms. Each wall was a different vibrant color, and each was adorned with a painting of a different style. On one wall someone had painted a “window” looking out onto a mountainous scene so real he wanted to touch it just to make sure. They’d made this basement abode livable.

  Petra looked at Eric. “What happened to you? You’ve got a big bruise on your cheek.”

  Eric touched his cheek where, indeed, a bruise marred it. He winced at the pressure and explained about the fight in the creek.