Dark Embrace

by Angie Sandro

  Running into the empty parking lot, I yell, “Sneaky jerk!”

  CHAPTER 24

  The Dark Side of the Force

  I kick the curb, then stalk back inside. Muttering curses…such a waste of time. And I don’t have a lot left. Anders charging into the unknown by himself is bad enough. Anders, who may or may not be the avatar for Death, running right into a trap, grr.

  I hate maybes. They leave too much room for interpretation. I never should’ve let him out of my sight. He’s suffering from a hero complex that will get him killed, and it’ll be my fault for not telling him my suspicions. This is what happens when I’m nice.

  I call Ferdinand, after discovering he’s left several messages. When he answers, I jump into the conversation with a quick, “I’m sorry and help!”

  “Where have you been?” His yelling forces me to hold the phone away from my ringing ear. “We thought you were dead.”

  Okay, not expected. “Why? You knew I was with Anders.”

  “How would I know that? You disappeared. Angelo said you went back for Flaco, and he saw Anders run you over and stuff you in the trunk of his car before taking off!”

  “What?” My voice warbles from the high pitch. “Is Angelo nearsighted? Why in the world would Anders do such a thing? He’s a cop, for goodness’ sakes.”

  “That’s what Angelo thought he saw happen. Since you were missing, I didn’t have any other answer for why you would disappear with Victor on your tail.”

  “Did you report me as a missing person? Are they after Anders?” Because that’s the last thing we need. Ugh.

  “I told Mala. I didn’t know who else to call. She was the only other person who knew what was happening. With her connections, I thought she would be able to figure out what to do. I don’t know what she did with the information.”

  “Mala.” I groan, dropping onto the bed. “She must be sick with worry.”

  “To say she’s upset would be a vast understatement. I suggested she wait a bit before taking action. She’s not the easiest person to calm down when her loved ones are in danger. At least she has pull with the sheriff’s office. Angelo and I are lucky we weren’t arrested, especially after they found Flaco. Victor really messed him up. He’s at the hospital in critical condition, and I’m heading over to check on him. They don’t know if he’ll survive.”

  Guilt makes my voice hoarse as I say, “God, Ferdinand. I’m sorry.” I lean against the dresser, trembling with shock…and remorse. Flaco may be dying because he tried to protect me. My life isn’t more important than his. Yet I’m so grateful for their protection. Ferdinand has more than earned his security fee. “I’m at the Super Delight. If you could pick me up, I’d like to ride to the hospital with you. Victor told me he kidnapped my roommate. He was probably lying to get me to go with him, but I need to know for sure. The doctor who saw Gabriella last night wants to talk to me.”

  “Good. Maybe you’ll finally get some answers. I’ll be there in five, and you can finish filling me in on what happened after your disappearance. Don’t forget to let your cousin know you’re safe.”

  While I wait for Ferdinand, I call Mala. When she picks up the phone, her voice brings fresh tears to my eyes. “Dena, I was so worried.”

  “I’m sorry. Ferdinand told me that you thought I was dead. Stupid Angelo. I don’t know what he was thinking to make up a story like that. Uh, you didn’t tell the deputies about Anders, right?”

  “What was I supposed to say? Detective Anders killed my cousin, but my only proof is the word of a suspected drug dealer?”

  “Given the fact that I’m still alive, I’m grateful you considered the situation in that light. Everything else Angelo told you is the truth. Only Anders ran over Victor and stuffed him in the trunk.”

  “He what?” she shrieks.

  “Yeah, Victor wasn’t happy.” I chuckle darkly, remembering our mad search of the trunk. In hindsight, it’s kind of funny. Probably only ’cause we survived the encounter with Victor. I fill her in on Gabriella’s possible kidnapping. Ferdinand’s gray truck pulls into the parking lot. I wave in greeting and slide into the front seat. He raises an eyebrow, and I cover the mouthpiece to whisper, “Mala.”

  He nods, pulling out of the lot.

  “What about Anders?” Mala asks. “Are you still with him?”

  “No, he went to the hospital. Dr. Estrada turned up. Since he was the last person to see Gabriella, maybe he has a clue to who took her. Anders thinks it’s a trap. He left me behind ’cause he didn’t think I’d be safe.” I sigh. “I’m afraid he’s in even more danger than I am.”

  “Hey, don’t worry about him. Victor’s after you.”

  “No, I’m pretty sure Victor only needs me to lead him to the avatar…” I sigh again as my voice trails off. “What if Victor finds him, and I’m not there to protect him?”

  “Finds who? The avatar?”

  “Yeah.”

  “We don’t even know who it is. Besides, I thought you were worrying about Anders, not some unknown…” Mala goes silent, then whispers, “Wait, unless you’re saying…Is Anders the avatar?”

  “Yeah, remember me telling you about the guy I sat with at the hospital the night of the earthquake? How I felt connected to him? I think that’s when it happened.” When death came for Anders, I thought I blocked it. But what if Death found him through me—the spirit of Ashmael was born from Anders the night he should’ve died. All of the bad things that have happened to him since are my fault.”

  The next thought hits like a hammer to the heart. What if Anders only likes me because of this mystical connection between us?

  Ferdinand glances at me with a raised eyebrow. “What about the avatar?”

  I shake my head and squeeze my eyes shut. No wonder Anders fights the attraction. His feelings for me are as fake as the life he leads during his blackouts.

  Mala must’ve heard Ferdinand’s question because she pipes in, “Is that Ferdinand?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Don’t tell him about Anders,” she says quickly. “I know you trust him, but I still think he has more to do with this than he’s saying. If he sent those assassins after you, then he’s working both sides. He may only be pretending to help us. Like he said, they need you and the avatar to close the door to the other side. And I’m not sure I want the door closed. Not if keeping it open means we can drag the other escaped Loa back to hell.”

  I glance at Ferdinand again and give him a reassuring smile. “Okay, but—”

  “Landry and I will meet you at the hospital.”

  She leaves me with more questions than answers. And underlying all the turmoil and anxiety stirred up by the conversation is the contradiction of my feelings for Anders. Deep inside, I hope he’s not the avatar. I want to believe his feelings for me aren’t due to a mystical confluence of events. He said he ran over Victor because I got hurt. Then he freaked out and stuffed him in the trunk because he worried about losing his job. Anders is a real person. Not some ghost.

  Ferdinand has been silent, but he’s been listening to my responses to what amounts to a one-sided conversation. The look he turns in my direction is heavy with unasked questions and sympathy.

  “I’m guessing you understood what that was all about,” I say, fighting to control myself, because I’m verging on freaking the hell out.

  “Anders is Ashmael, and Mala doesn’t want me to know.”

  I point my finger at him. “Bingo.” I brief Ferdinand on everything, including the humiliating aborted seduction by Anders, the eventual consummation by Ashmael, who turned out to be Anders, who doesn’t remember a damn thing. How did my life become so complicated?

  Ferdinand listens without cracking one joke, a novel experience. He appears thoughtful as he says, “If I whip out what I remember from my college Abnormal Psychology class, it sounds like Dissociative Identity Disorder.”

  “Is that like multiple personalities? I watched a series on Showtime about this before my dad
disconnected the cable…United States of Tara. I loved seeing the different personalities, but I also felt so sad at how the illness affected the character’s relationships with her family.” I glance back at Ferdinand. “So you think this is similar to what’s happened to Anders?”

  “It’s only a theory. Except the alternate personality isn’t one Anders created to protect himself from a forgotten trauma. In this case, it’s more that Ashmael assumes aspects of his personality. He is both separate and a part of Anders.”

  “But does being an avatar change the person?” I whisper. “Is Anders still Anders? How much influence does Ashmael have on him? His underlying personality doesn’t change, does it?”

  Silence stretches for several minutes before Ferdinand breaks it with a groan. He rolls his eyes in my direction. My jaw tightens as I raise my hands in exasperation, “Now what did I do?”

  “It’s your expression. You had the same stubborn look on your face the night you talked me into helping you track the shadow after it killed Squirrel. Even if I warn you to stay away from Anders, you won’t listen. Just like you didn’t listen to Mala.” He laughs. “Anyone else would have stayed far away from that mausoleum, but not you. You walked right in hoping for the best.”

  “It worked out, didn’t it? There haven’t been any more murders.”

  “Not unless you count the men who broke into your house and tried to murder you, no.”

  “It’s all related. At least we know why Death was killing Victor’s men. What I’d like to know is what the one guy meant when he said I was juiced. Even though Mala brought me back from the other side, I didn’t heal this fast. It all began in the alley.”

  “That was the moment Ashmael exposed you to the mystery substance.”

  I nod. “But how did those assassins get juiced? I can’t see Ashmael licking their bodies.” Ick. I shudder, gagging a bit at the image. “This is what we need to find out. It may be the answer to why all of this is happening.”

  We pull into the hospital parking lot, and Ferdinand shuts off the car. He scrubs a hand over his eyes. “Let’s go find our friends.”

  Ferdinand and I enter the hospital, heading toward the ICU. Angelo sits on a plastic chair with his head held in his hands. Four other beefy guys, dressed in black-on-black security uniforms, also pace the corridors. One of them stands with his hand on Angelo’s shoulder, and he squeezes it when we draw closer. Angelo looks up.

  I back up a step in response to the anger tightening his eyes. “Uh, Ferdinand, maybe it’s better for Angelo if we split up. Tell him I’m sorry. For everything.”

  He stares at me for a long moment, then nods. “See if you can find Anders, but wait for backup before confronting Estrada.”

  “Sure,” I lie, straight-faced. I’m not eager to walk into a trap, but seeing Angelo, I know I won’t put my friends at risk. I can’t handle the guilt. I’m already mostly dead. Putting this body to rest if it keeps my friends safe isn’t a hard choice. But I won’t sacrifice myself without putting up a fight.

  I turn and run for the elevator.

  Angelo shouts from behind, “Hey, get back here!” His feet pound on the floor as he runs after me. A quick glance over my shoulder shows Ferdinand now has him in a bear hug. Their loud voices follow me into the elevator, and I collapse against the metal wall once I’m inside. By the time I reach the fourth floor Neuro Unit, I’m calm.

  Susan Jones sits behind a computer at the nurses’ station. She barely lifts her eyes from the screen when I walk up. “I see you got my message about Dr. Estrada?”

  My fingernails drum out a rhythm on the countertop. “Yeah, where is he?”

  “Everybody’s been asking about you. Mala and Charles call every few hours asking if you’ve been admitted. You look healthy enough to pick up a phone so your friends won’t worry.”

  Scalded by the heat in her scolding, my face flushes. “I didn’t have cell reception in the backwoods. I’m sorry for worrying you and everyone. Mala knows I’m safe. I called her before coming here.” I let out a deep breath. “About Estrada—”

  “His office.” Her fingers pause on the keyboard as she shakes her head. “He’s acting really strange.”

  “Define strange. Estrada isn’t exactly normal.”

  She barks out a laugh. “I’m constantly amazed at the stuff he gets away with. It’s frustrating how the higher-ups cater to his every request. They’ve given him more money for his research projects than most…Oh, who am I to poor mouth the man? I’ve seen the miracles he’s worked. You being one of them.”

  We both roll our eyes and say in unison, “Hand of God,” then crack up. I adore her. I would’ve gone insane from boredom without her during the month before my release from the hospital.

  I cross my arms on the countertop and lean forward. Ever the professional, she turns the computer screen from my view. “What about Detective Anders?” I ask. “You remember him? Long, lean, hotness in a suit with a shitty attitude. He interrogated me after I was brought in the last time. Have you seen him?”

  “I haven’t seen anyone else go into Estrada’s office,” Susan says with a shrug. “Not that I was paying much attention to people coming and going. I do have patients to care for. Okay, I’ll stop lecturing you. I know you’re anxious to see Estrada. Go on in.” She waves me off with a quick smile, then starts typing again.

  I stand another minute outside the door, gathering my courage. All the doubts and fears dragging at my heels weigh me down. I should wait for Ferdinand or Mala. But what if Victor’s behind those doors? I don’t want them to get hurt because of me. Alone, I can choose whether to fight or let him take me to Gabriella. If Victor’s not there, then I don’t need them to interrogate Estrada. I can handle that all on my own. With pleasure.

  The question is: What am I willing to do to get the truth?

  Anything.

  My hands ache. I crack each knuckle—the popping soothing my anxiety—then shove the door. It slams against the wall, and I stride inside the large corner office, ready to browbeat some answers out of Estrada if necessary.

  Estrada sits behind the desk. “Ms. Acker?” Sweat dots his forehead, and his eyes shift over my shoulder. “Now is not an ideal time for an unscheduled appointment.”

  “Wow,” I mutter, squeezing my hands. “That was anticlimactic.”

  “I thought the same thing,” Anders says from behind me.

  I jump, twisting to face him. He stands in the doorway to the bathroom. The look he gives Estrada is ferocious, and anxiety rears again in my chest. I’ve never seen so much emotion on his face. Even while being attacked he retreated into a studied calm. The only time he ever seemed to be anywhere close to being in danger of losing control was after he thought he’d murdered Victor.

  “I came expecting to get some answers.” He walks toward the desk with stiff, jerky steps. His fists clench and unclench, bunching the muscles in his arms. “I thought I’d finally learn what happened that night.”

  Keeping my body between him and the desk, I move closer, trying to turn his focus from Estrada. Tension radiates off him in a wave that washes over my skin in a zinging rush.

  “So he doesn’t know what happened to Gabriella?” I whisper, a little breathless from disappointment at the dead end, but also because of the anger building in Anders. I don’t want to set him off. “I hoped he’d have answers, but I’m not surprised—”

  “I meant the night I almost died,” Anders says, continuing to stare at Estrada. “You experimented on me, didn’t you? Put me back together wrong.”

  His words echo the thoughts I’ve had since waking from my coma. Only I now know the answer to the question for both of us. Wrong? Hell yes, we came back from the beyond wrong. We’re Frankenstein’s monstrous couple.

  Again that prickle of unease washes across my skin. All the hairs on my arms stand on end, like static electricity has built around my body. A dusky shimmer hovers over Anders’s skin as the energy coalesces into a malignant, smoky cloud
.

  I glance back at Estrada, who remains frozen at his desk. He appears aware of the danger brewing in front of him. The terror in his eyes must mirror my own. Anders isn’t himself—not even close. This must be one of the blackout episodes he warned me about. The moment when I should run like hell and get as far away from him as possible. But he is Anders. And he is Ashmael. All swirled together. And I love them both.

  “Anders,” I beg, desperate to find some connection to the man I thought I knew, but terrified at the same time that he never existed. I step toward him. “Michael, please…”

  His eyes fix on my face, and I flinch. The eyes are no longer Anders’s eyes. I’ve gotten lost in the jade green depths on multiple occasions. These eyes, set in his familiar face, belong to something inhuman, closer to being feline, with elongated pupils the color of green bottle glass and so bright they appear to glow.

  I know these eyes, too. I’ve seen them in my dreams. Not the kinky ones, but ones where we hunt men. These are the eyes Death wears when he eats souls.

  “Michael…come back to me.” All my latent emotions go into that plea. I don’t know how I speak so calmly, except if I lose control, he will, too. “Babe, I know you’re in there.”

  My trembling hand moves toward him but doesn’t touch the oil slick darkness forming an inch above his skin. The shadow. Ferdinand said it kills abominations like me. That’s its sole purpose: To fix the damage caused by Magnolia LaCroix’s spell.

  Anders’s eyes travel from my face to my reaching hand, and he stretches his own toward mine. A ribbon of darkness lifts from his skin and strikes my fingertips like a cobra.

  “Anders!” I yelp, hiding my stinging fingers behind my back. He’s lost control. Stricken with terror, I forget to breathe. Why is this happening? He’s never attacked me before.

  CHAPTER 25

  Pontificating Villains are Annoying