by Angie Sandro
Anders blows out a deep breath. The darkness over him fades to gray, but doesn’t vanish completely. For now, he’s in control of his anger. How long he can contain it, I don’t know. Hopefully long enough to get us through this mess. He pushes to his feet and walks over to his clothing piled on the floor. He picks up the gun, then pulls on his jeans. In my opinion, dressing is a waste of time. Who knows what Estrada’s doing to my body in the other room?
My eyes caress the contours of his muscular backside until it vanishes in denim. Such a shame.
Fingers snap in front of my face, and I twitch. “What did you say?”
“Where are you? Your body, I mean?” He shakes his head. “Are you here?”
“Follow me.” I glide back into the hall then freeze. Victor leans over the cot holding Gabriella. She’s still unconscious, but Victor has her skirt pulled up. He’s unzipping his jeans with his free hand, so caught up in his sick fantasy he fails to notice Anders. He doesn’t even turn as Anders comes up from behind and smashes him in the head with the stock of his gun.
“Hit him again!” I cry out, furious. My own aura darkens. Sparks fly from my fingertips as energy shoots from my fingers. There’s a loud sizzle, and Victor convulses. His pants catch fire and begin to burn.
“What the hell?” Anders gasps. He grabs the blanket from the floor, throws it over Victor’s burning crotch, and stomps on it to put out the fire. The man groans, but doesn’t wake up. “How many times do I have to tell you not to burn people?”
“I don’t,” I protest, then bite on my lip. Obviously, I have the ability. Oh crap, what if those dreams of me hunting really were of me hunting? Only like Anders, I don’t remember. What if I’m as responsible for sending those men to the other side as Anders? “He deserves to burn! Maybe not to death, but he doesn’t need to pee standing up.”
“You can’t take the law into your own hands.” Anders pulls his handcuffs from his back pocket and locks one end around Victor’s wrist. He drags him over to an exposed pipe across the room and cuffs the other hand. I don’t bother to tell him Victor can easily break free. If we can take care of Estrada, we’ll get back before he wakes up.
I glare over at Victor, fingertips burning. “Piece of shit trying to take advantage of an unconscious woman. It’s his fault she’s here.” I finish my rant with a hiss.
“Get back in your body if you’re going to behave like this,” Anders orders, then pinches his nose with two fingers. “I can’t believe I said that.”
What I can’t believe is that I’m still capable of getting angry. My emotions are but wisps of what I’d normally feel. With each minute that passes without me being in my body, the less of a connection I have to it. Tendrils of spirit drift from my form in misty contrails. Whatever surgery Estrada performs is playing havoc with my system.
I take Anders’s advice and float back to the operating room. My stomach heaves when I see my ribs have been cracked open, leaving my internal organs on display, including my beating heart. Not a sight one ever wants to see.
Anders staggers into the room then freezes. “Oh God, Dena…” He points his gun at Estrada, but obviously he doesn’t know what to do.
Estrada glances at him then continues with his work. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”
Anders swallows thickly. “Whatever you’re doing to her, stop.”
“You are not in a position to give orders.” Estrada raises the scalpel then lowers it into my chest. “One flick of my wrist and she dies. All it takes is for me to nick an artery or plunge this into her beating heart.”
“What are you doing?” Anders asks.
“I’m studying your work. I assume you did this to her. Surely you understand why I needed to see what makes her different from the others. Look at this heart, how strong it is, and her lungs. Simply amazing.” Estrada’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “She has none of the degradation of organs and none of the mental instability found in the test subjects provided by Ivanov. If only I had been able to study Dena before I practiced on them.”
Estrada nods toward the gun. “Put that on the ground and kick it over to me. I don’t want any accidents in my surgery. The fact that you’re in here without a gown and mask compromises my sterile field. It’s lucky Dena’s body has evolved. She appears to be invulnerable to disease or injury.”
Anders’s gun hand trembles. His finger flexes, caressing the trigger, like he debates whether to take the shot. I hope he goes for it. That he denies Estrada what he has gone to such extreme lengths to obtain. My life or death shouldn’t factor in when the stakes are so high.
Estrada points his scalpel at my chest cavity. “I don’t think you want to test that, do you? Of course, I am curious whether the test subjects are able to heal from catastrophic blood loss as quickly as other wounds.”
“Don’t!” Anders yells, voice thick. He drops the gun and kicks it to Estrada. “No more. Sew her back up.”
Estrada picks up the gun and points it at Anders. “There’s no need to sew.” He motions toward my body and laughs. “Look at that…” he breathes. “Isn’t she amazing? Her body is already regenerating. Just like yours did.”
Hovering over the table, I watch the muscles and bones begin to knit back together again.
Anders’s face takes on a greenish tint. He wavers, leaning against the wall. His breath comes in ragged gasps, and his red-rimmed eyes meet my own. The darkness representing the doorway to the other side—the vortex of death which used to be a separate entity—has now fully integrated with him. He stands on the threshold. If he falls into it, he’ll be consumed. I can’t let that happen.
“Fight it, Anders,” I say, flexing my bicep. “I’m tougher than I currently look. I’ll be okay.”
A single tear runs down Anders’s cheek. Seeing the pain he can no longer hide from me almost breaks my non-corporeal heart into tendrils of misty vapor. He straightens from the wall, and the darkness fades. “You got what you needed, so go,” he says. “Don’t forget I don’t need a gun to kill you.”
“Oh,” Estrada says with a sigh of wistful awe. “I’d kill for more time to play with her. I assume you incapacitated Victor on your way in. Did you kill him?”
“I hit him in the head.”
Estrada nods. “But he hasn’t come back in the room. I imagine his healing factor is much less rapid than Dena’s, but what about yours, Anders? I never did find that out.” He raises the gun and fires. The impact of the bullet twists Anders to the side, and he slumps to the ground.
Estrada’s face is devoid of sympathy, even as he apologizes, ’cause he’s a big, fat, lying psychopath. “Sorry about that, Anders, but given that you’re suffering from amnesia and don’t remember you asked me for help means I’ve become the villain in your little tragedy. I’m making a hasty exit before you recover.”
Anders presses on his wound. “Estrada, wait. What don’t I remember?”
Estrada kneels beside him. “I’m sorry, my friend. You know what this is about. You’ve always known, but you weren’t able to deal with the truth. I can’t help you now.” He rises and flashes the vials of my blood and tissue. “Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about my promise to your partner, even if you have. I’m doing this for Jimmy.”
Estrada leaves the room.
And I can’t do anything to stop him. I float in the corner, growing stronger as my body heals. My vision blurs, then darkens. When my eyes open, I’m back inside my body. I stare at the ceiling, concentrating on not throwing up from the excruciating agony filling my chest. As long as I don’t breathe, I can think. Moving? Not an option.
Until I remember that Estrada shot Anders.
I tilt my head to the side. He’s lying on the ground in the same pose I am, as if too afraid to move because of the pain.
“Give me a minute or four,” he whispers.
“Not really ready to move yet myself. Take your time,” I say, then reconsider. “Except the bad guy is getting away while we’re lying around.
It’s not like we’re not invulnerable or anything. A little pain won’t kill us.”
“Speak for yourself,” Anders says. “This feels worse than when you fell on top of me. I can’t breathe. He shot me in the lung.”
“Cry me a river,” I mutter, tugging at the restraints on my arms. They won’t budge. “Super strength doesn’t work on these. Too bad I can’t shoot lasers out of my eyeballs.”
“Have you tried?”
I scowl at him. “If I could, you’d be on fire right now.”
Coughing, Anders sits up. Blood dots his lips. “I’m having a hard time believing all of this. If I’m supposed to be this powerful thing, why don’t I remember anything?”
“It’s pretty complicated.” I decide to give him the scaled-down version. “The night you were injured, Magnolia LaCroix worked a spell to open a doorway to the afterlife. When Death came to claim your soul, I was in the hospital with you. I fought it, thinking I was protecting you, but I actually caused it to merge with you.”
“Merge.”
“Maybe ‘blend’ is a better word. Your body became the avatar for Death. Rather than fully embracing your dual nature, it split you into pieces. Your loving side comes out as…a, uh, sexy, protective spirit named Ashmael. Your rage manifests as the black mist, and its strength is so great that it acts out on its own. But you’re the glue that holds everything together.” Including my heart, if you want it.
Anders holds his arm against his side as he limps over and unbuckles the restraints tying my arms to the bed. “So I’m the black smoke monster you kept telling me about.”
“The one you kept telling me didn’t exist, even when you were staring right at it? Yeah, pretty much.” I rub my freed wrists while he tackles the ankle restraints. “Your mind blocked out your traumatic memories. It makes sense you’d be in denial of a smoke creature.”
“What else don’t I remember?”
“Oh. Well…” I clear my throat, damning myself for the decision to embrace honesty. “We made love this morning…in the motel.”
“Dena—”
My mouth draws down. “Sorry, I should’ve told you.”
He rises and leans over me. I focus on the lips hovering inches over my own. “So I gave you the hickey.”
“And I enjoyed every minute. So did you, even if you can’t remember.”
“Maybe I do,” he breathes. He runs the tip of his nose against the side of my neck and inhales. “You smell so good.”
“I smell like blood and guts.”
Anders smiles and shrugs. He helps me sit up. My whole body aches. I clench my teeth against the pain. My eyes lose focus for a few seconds, but I push aside the dizziness. My chest hasn’t completely closed. It seals, one layer at a time. I also realize—only because of the expression that crosses Anders’s face—that my ripped shirt leaves me exposed from the waist up. “Crap, I need clothing. I’m not running around the hospital half-naked.”
“But it would’ve been okay if I’d only worn my boxers.”
Heat rises up my chest and into my cheeks, and I gasp. “How?”
“Remember, I could hear your thoughts.” He nods toward the back room. “My shirt’s in there.”
“Fine, I admit to being a hypocrite. But no peeking. I’m embarrassed enough that you saw my internal organs. Talk about an invasion of privacy,” I mutter, crossing my arms over my chest.
“It’s not like I haven’t seen your breasts before, Dena.” His lips quirk in the smuggest of all smirks. “They’re pretty much branded behind my eyelids. I picture them every time I blink.”
Is this a bad or good thing? I shake my head, refusing to ask. “I doubt seeing them covered in my blood makes them more attractive.”
“Dena, you’re damned hot, blood and all.” The heat in his voice almost melts me into the table. His hand practically burns my skin as it wraps around my waist. He pulls me into his arms and slides me down the front of his body. Oh yes, I really do light a brushfire in his britches.
The sudden surge of lust shoves down my residual horror from being eviscerated. But now I need a distraction from my distraction before I lose control and use my super strength to rip his jeans right off.
I slide from between him and the table. “So I have a theory. Do you want to hear it?”
“Do I have a choice?” His fingertips trail across my thigh.
I lean into his hand, still too weak to stand on my own. Touching him gives me strength. “I don’t know. Personally, you’re the only thing holding me together. If you suddenly go bat-shit crazy, I won’t be far behind.”
“I’ve handled being told I’m the insane incarnation of Death pretty well.” He frowns. “From what I remember from my Comparative Religion class, avatars are used by Hindu gods to come to earth to restore balance in the midst of chaos.”
“Oh, I don’t know. All I had to go by were the blue aliens in the movie. Once we find Ferdinand, he can explain it in a way that doesn’t sound completely Looney Tunes.”
“It makes sense to me. Maybe you’ve already gone bat-shit crazy,” Anders drawls, hand tightening as I stagger.
“Are you messing with me?” I pause, turning in his arms to stare at him. His eyes meet mine. Turmoil darkens them until only a slight edge of jade shines through.
“Dee, I’m responsible for the murders I’ve been investigating. I don’t remember killing those men, or know how to keep from killing anyone else. So forgive me if the only thing holding me together is fucking with you, since I can’t actually fuck you.”
I stare at him for a long moment then wrap my arms around his neck. “I prefer to use the term ‘make love.’ It more accurately describes how I feel right now.” My fingers tangle in his hair as I pull his head down. I kiss him the way I’ve always wanted to kiss him, without reservations, and for once he kisses me back the same way.
The sound of someone clearing their throat breaks us apart.
Gabriella stands in the doorway, pressing her hand to her swollen cheek. “Uh, guys…what’s going on?”
My arms cross to cover my breasts. “Gabriella…we were coming to rescue you.”
“Really?” she asks, voice strained with incredulity. “’Cause it looked an awful lot like the two of you forgot about me while making out in the super villain’s secret lair!” She thrusts Anders’s shirt into my hands then stomps toward the door. “I rescued myself.”
Anders and I share a guilty look and run after her. My chest no longer hurts, and Anders appears to have recovered as well. Which is a good thing since Victor’s missing. The handcuffs lie in pieces on the ground.
Gabriella picks up the broken pipe and gives it a test swing. “Just wait until I find those jerks. I’m gonna get medieval on Estrada’s ass after what he did to me. And Victor’s gonna be pooping through a metal straw.”
I meet Anders’s eyes, and he shakes his head. Even though I can’t hear his thoughts, I know what he’s thinking, ’cause I’m thinking the same thing. The only thing that kills these guys is the black mist. Anders’s rage when released completely destroys them. While the idea of Anders running around burning people to death is not my favorite, if he’s ever able to harness the darkness, we may have a weapon to use against Ivanov’s men.
We have no idea how many of his men have taken the serum, and now that Estrada has my blood, he’ll be able to make his serum stronger. We need to find him and get my samples back before that happens.
CHAPTER 27
Team Death for the Win
Anders holds my hand as we race through the maze of corridors. With every dead end, every U-turn, I want to tear out my hair. We run at human speed to match Gabriella. I won’t leave her behind. But I also can’t drag her deeper into my secret.
We reach the elevators at the far end of the hallway. The down arrow above the elevator A is red, but I jab the up button a few times anyway. Then we wait, impatient. I even side-eye the stairs. I’m fast. I step in that direction, but Anders pulls me back. The door o
pens and Gabriella yelps as a man bursts out. Before I have a chance to react, she bashes him with pipe, then hits him two more times before I realize she’s beating Estrada to a pulp.
I grab her arm and snatch the pipe from her fingers. “Enough, he’s down.”
“Let me go!” she yells. “He deserves this after what he did.”
No doubt. He deserves this and so much more, but I shake my head.
The doctor lies on the ground with his hands wrapped around his head. When he realizes he’s not being hit anymore, he stops screaming long enough to beg, “Help me. He’s coming.”
Who’s he? I look at Anders, but he’s down on one knee, searching Estrada. “The vials are gone,” he says, then lets out a string of curses. He grabs Estrada by the lapels of his lab coat and hauls him upright. “Where are they?” The doctor dangles from his hands as he shakes him. “Did Victor take them?”
“Yes, yes. He’s gathering the rest of my supplies.” He grips Anders’s hands, but he pleads with me. “We can catch him if we leave now. I know where he’s going. I’ll get them back.”
“Why? Breaking your deal with Ivanov doesn’t make any sense. He’ll kill you.”
“Not if you protect me. I’ll do whatever you ask. Just save me now.” A bell dings. “No…oh no, he’s here. It’s too late.”
Both of the elevators’ doors open. Ferdinand, surrounded by his security guys, emerges from one and steps into the hallway. Seeing their black vests, shirts, and cargo pants, and the guns on their hips has me slumping in relief. The cavalry has just arrived to save the day. Two guards rush forward from the second elevator, and Anders thrusts Estrada in their direction. In less than thirty seconds, the doctor’s handcuffed and led onto elevator B. He’s still crying for me to save him when the doors shut.
Ferdinand scowls at me. “Didn’t I tell you to wait for backup?”
“I didn’t need no stinking backup,” I say, grinning at him. “But I’m glad you were here to take Estrada. My roomie has already committed great bodily injury to the man. It’s best they go their separate ways.”
