Beyond the Darkness

by Jaime Rush

“Tell me.” She had shadows?

  “I felt your insecurity and how you cling to your outer beauty because that’s all you think you have. You feel betrayed, but you’re unwilling to acknowledge those feelings because they’re ugly, so you tell yourself no one has hurt you.”

  She held up her hand. “Okay, that’s enough.”

  “The only way to see the shadows is to aim the light at them. When you do, they go away.”

  “Then why do you hold onto your shadows?”

  “Because they remind me to never let anyone into my life.” He rolled onto his side, facing her, and closed his eyes. “Good night, Petra.”

  She stretched out beside him, watching the tension ease from his face. She wished she could escape into sleep so easily. It was her own fault, but she would be dreaming about those horrible moments that had changed him so irrevocably.

  Some part of her heart challenged that. But as long as he was a warrior, he would never let her in. And that’s how it had to be.

  Chapter 14

  Cheveyo woke at three in the morning. Moonlight streamed in through the window near the bed, spilling over them like liquid silver. He took a moment to look at Petra, lying on her side with her hand tucked beneath her cheek. She looked ethereal, like an angel. He’d watched her sleep before, but it was different.

  She was different, because of what had happened in the last few days. She wasn’t a vulnerable princess, wasn’t just a distant dream to him either. He could touch her now, could let her wake and see him.

  No, he couldn’t touch her. He would never stop. He got out of bed with hardly a rustle of sheets.

  She’d gone into his soul. He was angry about that, but he shouldn’t be. He’d done it to her. The difference being, she never knew, and he never used what he’d found to prod old wounds.

  He grabbed clothes out of a drawer and went downstairs to change. He stepped outside and filled his lungs with cool, clean air. The moon lit up the yard and house, like a silvery version of daylight. He smelled only pines, heard only the normal sounds of the night, and sensed only what should be there. He sat on the stone bench near the fire pit and caught the moonlight on the blade of the knife he carried.

  The energy that preceded his father’s visit tingled through him, washing him with a wave of dizziness. He closed his eyes, imagining a swirl of black clouds spiraling through him, taking him into the ether.

  Wayne’s voice and expression were harsh in his mind. The woman has to go. I warned you that you will die because of her presence in your life. Is that not enough? That she violated your spirit is unforgivable.

  “I have done the same to her,” he said aloud. “And I cannot send her away. There is no place safer for her to be than with me.”

  You risk your life for hers? A mere woman.

  “Yes.”

  It is foolish. You risk not only your life but the lives you will save in the future.

  “There is nothing I can do. I will not abandon her.” He changed the subject. “How do I protect the Callorian?”

  Your plan is a good one. I knew Pope back in Surfacia.

  “He said he knew you, but I thought he meant in a surface way. Why didn’t you tell me before?”

  Have I taught you not to bring anything personal to your missions? Not that you listened. Pope is a good citizen. Worthy. But I think you already know that.

  “He saved the lives of the Rogues. That gives him huge cred for me.” And he meant something to Petra. “Was he ever tasked to track you down after you went Scarlett?”

  Yes, but it was a mission he purposely failed to achieve. Failure is not something Pope takes lightly, but he suffered it for me. Will you be able to carry out the task he has asked of you, since you have allowed yourself to get personally involved?

  Pope had saved his father. How could he kill the man? It would have been hard enough with the knowledge that he’d saved Petra and her people. “I don’t want to, but I will. I hope to kill Yurek and the Glouk. It will at least buy me time to prepare for the next Extractor.”

  And what of the girl?

  “If Yurek does not return to Surfacia to report our existence, the next Extractor will only come for Pope. I can send her away and know she’ll be safe.”

  If she has not gotten you killed first. Love is a weakness that will destroy you. It is what destroyed me.

  He opened his eyes at that. “What do you mean?”

  I took the contract with the government because of your mother. I was able to fight the enemy in what was supposed to be a safe way so she would not worry.

  He stood. “I can’t stop loving her, father. I’m not strong enough for that. I’m only strong enough to send her away as soon as it’s safe.” And barely that.

  You did not love the mother of your son this much. But you loved your son enough to consider giving up being a warrior for him.

  “I would never have done that.” He had only toyed with the idea of having a normal life, but he’d never communicated that to his father. His being away from Cody was hard for all of them.

  Yes, you would have.

  “You didn’t give up the fight for me.”

  No, I did not.

  He knew the loneliness of having his father gone most of the time. Of knowing he was in some dangerous situation, fearing he would simply never come back. Not unlike having a father in the military. “Do you know where the enemy is?” Wayne was often the one who directed him to the enemy, but he was not exact.

  I pick up his Essence several miles east of the cabin. He has been severely injured.

  “Dying?”

  I sense no waning of his Essence, only much pain. You stabbed him?

  “Injury by car wreck.” He never knew exactly how much his father saw of life here but knew Wayne wasn’t always around.

  I will monitor him. Perhaps he will die on his own.

  Nothing ever happened that easy.

  Wayne’s presence drifted away. Cheveyo took a few deep breaths, clearing away his father’s disapproval. He pulled out his phone and called Pope. “How are you holding up?”

  “I stopped for a couple of hours to sleep, but I’m on the wagon again, as the saying goes.”

  He smiled. “On the wagon means you’ve stopped drinking. You’re back on the road.”

  “Your Earth dimension phrases are confusing. I’m getting rather fond of the Tank. A hotel room on wheels. Very interesting.”

  “It’s a good home away from home.” He looked at his real home. But not good enough. That’s because Petra’s asleep in your bed. He shook away the thought, his body’s reaction. “My father talks to me from beyond. He told me what you did for him.”

  “He was a good man.”

  “You both seem to have a mutual appreciation society.”

  “A what?”

  “Never mind. He senses that Yurek’s been badly injured. When you were here on assignment, what happened if you were injured?”

  “If we didn’t feel we could heal ourselves, we returned to Surfacia to get healed in the Amber Tunnel. It’s a chamber lined with amber and infused with psychic healing energy. It heals major wounds in twenty-four hours. I have never had to use it, but I understand it is so thorough it allows the Shine—the agent—to return to duty right away.”

  His chest tightened. “And if you returned to Surfacia, you would report your progress.”

  Pope’s voice went low. “Of course, and Yurek would report yours and Petra’s existences. He has no way to communicate with the C otherwise.”

  “Where is the nearest finestra?”

  “I’ll have to pull over and look at a map. I know there are two in this part of the country, because of the natural energy vortexes so abundant here.”

  “Check it out and call me back.”

  They couldn’t let Yurek return to Surfacia. Cheveyo knew it would be his and Petra’s death sentence.

  The sound of metal clanging woke Petra. The sun was barely up, and it was an ungodly early hour—for her, any
way. She rolled over and was disappointed to see the other half of the bed empty. Then again, if he were there, then someone else would be making that sound.

  She looked out the window and saw him working on the bike just outside the building. He was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved black shirt, his hair tied into an unruly ponytail, as though he’d done it in the dark. It looked as though he were pounding bent metal back into shape. The poor bike. Like them, it had taken a beating.

  Poor Cheveyo. He had gone through so much in his lifetime, fighting since he was ten. Losing his father and then his son. She knew the hardest part for him was thinking he was responsible for Cody’s and his mother’s deaths.

  He’d been a father. Was still a father in his heart. It made her see him in a different light. He was a man who could love deeply.

  He glanced up, probably sensing her there, and waved. It would have been a sweet moment except he tapped on his watch. Yeah yeah.

  She went through her morning routine, timing herself. How could she cut down the time? One swipe of blush instead of two or three, forgo the contouring? Skip outlining her lips? It was a lot to ask.

  She went downstairs and found (or rather smelled) a pot of coffee in the carafe and a mug in front of it. She poured a cup, added sugar, which was also left out for her, and wandered to the china hutch. In the drawer were those pictures of her. She dug down through the pile, smiling at the candid, surveillance-type shots he’d obviously taken while keeping an eye on her. Beneath those were other pictures, the first of a baby. Not her. This one had dark hair, and besides, Cheveyo had been about four when she was born so he couldn’t have taken a picture of her then.

  Cody. It hit her, that this was his son’s picture. There were others, of him growing up, playing ball, and then they stopped so pitifully soon. She looked at one of the last pictures of the boy, remembering the scene she’d witnessed. He must have been terrified.

  She heard the front door snap shut and closed the drawer. She was back in the kitchen when Cheveyo walked in.

  “If you want something to eat, I’ve got bacon and toast in the freezer.”

  Her heart tightened at the sight of him, rubbing his hands with a blue paper towel. He smelled of grease, but she saw no smears on his face or hands.

  “Just toast will be fine.” She walked over to the freezer and pried one slice from the rest of the loaf. “Slice for you?”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Do you have any peanut butter?”

  “I have Spanish peanuts.” He grinned. “I could peel the skins off and set them on the toast for you.”

  “That sounds, mmm, no. Butter will do.”

  He sipped on a cup of coffee he poured and watched her eat, an odd expression on his face. Sort of a melancholy grin, if that made any sense.

  “Do I have crumbs on my face?” She wiped her cheeks.

  “No, you’re fine.” He seemed to pull out of his thoughts, and the expression faded. “We’d better get going. I’ve already checked in with Pope. Poor guy, he’s got to be road weary.”

  Poor Pope! Cheveyo was mirroring her thoughts. And poor Petra, too, for belonging to a man she couldn’t have. She finished her coffee, washed out the mug and plate, and set them in the dish rack. “Let me brush my teeth and I’ll be ready to go.”

  “Bring your bag. We won’t be back here for a while.”

  She pushed on and was down again in ten minutes. Not bad. He grabbed a map from the drawer, pulled down two leather jackets, and opened the door for her. The bike was parked just outside.

  She took one of the jackets he held out for her and slid into it. It was already cool without going sixty miles an hour on a bike. The jacket was too big, but it was warm and smelled of leather and Cheveyo. “Zoe said when she rode with you from Key West to Annapolis, the helmet made her scalp feel like there were scorpions in her hair. And her butt was totally numb.” Her breath hung like a mist in the air.

  He slid into his jacket and zipped it up, then zipped up hers, too. “You’re tough. You can handle it.”

  Did he really believe that? Yeah, he did. That filled her with a sense of strength. Everyone who knew her thought she’d freak out or wimp out, even her. Not Cheveyo.

  He pulled out two pair of gloves from the bike’s bags. “We may have a new problem. It’s possible Yurek will return to the other dimension to heal.”

  “And that’s a problem, how? Sounds good to me.”

  He told her why it was a very bad problem.

  She bit her lip, fear darkening her heart. “Oh.”

  His cell phone rang. “Pope,” he told her and answered. After listening for a few seconds, he opened the map and laid it out on the seat of the bike. “Found it. That’s roughly three hours away. Where’s the other one?” His finger moved over the map and stopped at the very top. “Near Mount Zion National Park. That’ll be interesting. Petra and I are going to take off in a few minutes. We’ll head in the direction of the closest finestra and remain in the vicinity just in case. We’re also going to stay on the move, not too close and not too far from you. We might not have to worry about Yurek right now, since he’s injured, but we still have the Glouk. And he’s the tracker . . . No, I don’t want you going to the other finestra. If you’re that close, it’ll be easy for Yurek to pull you in. Stay away from either one. We’ll handle this. That’s what you hired me for . . . It doesn’t matter whether you’re paying me or not, it’s still my job.”

  He disconnected. “The closest finestra is near what barely passes for a town about three hours from here. I’m guessing that’s where he’s going, considering his condition. Are you ready to roll?”

  “Yes.”

  She climbed on behind him, and he started the bike. They’d hardly cleared the driveway when he pulled off to the side of the road and cut the engine. He didn’t say anything, just stood there balancing the bike by planting his feet on the ground, his eyes closed. Her gaze darted around, looking for whatever had made him stop.

  He turned to her, his face a taut mask. “My father just told me that Yurek is fading fast. I’ll bet he’s heading to the finestra. And we’ve got to stop him.”

  “Your job is to stop them should they show up before I go through the finestra.” Yurek had spent the last twenty minutes teaching the Glouk how to hot-wire a car, and the effort left him weak. Baal was beginning to get a handle on using his human hands.

  It took all of Yurek’s effort to make his voice sound strong and authoritative. “I will return in twenty-four hours to the second finestra, and you will guard that so I don’t walk into a trap.”

  Coming in was always a vulnerable time. You couldn’t see what was waiting for you. He’d chosen to return to a different location in case their enemy figured out where he had exited.

  They had taken their new vehicle to a secluded location. Yurek leaned against the car door for support, feeling the warmth of the metal seep into his pain-wracked body. “If you do have to engage them at my exit finestra, I want you to retreat as soon as I’m gone, unless you’re absolutely certain you can take them. Don’t be foolish when making that decision.”

  “You want me to retreat? Like a coward?”

  “I need you at my entry finestra.”

  “You need me.” Baal’s shoulders lifted at that, his mouth curling into a faint smile. “What if they find the second location? You said Pope knows about the healing procedure. He probably knows about the two finestras in this area.”

  “If they guess the plan, then you can try to take them out, but only if you feel confident that you can do so. Otherwise, lie low and wait for me to come in. That way, you’ll immediately warn me, and it will be two on two.”

  Yurek winced as he unfolded the map they’d bought and pointed to its location. “Get in position nearby but don’t go to the exact location until three hours before I’m to arrive, so the hunter doesn’t track you there.”

  Yurek had heard about the Amber Tunnel, how claustrophobic the yellow tube in which he w
ould have to lie still for twenty-four hours was. Though their emotions had been mostly bred out of them, he still felt a deep sense of failure and humiliation in having to return in such a way. He would have to explain that with Pope’s allies he was outnumbered. He would also have to convince the Collaborate that he was capable of executing the two human/Callorians so the C wouldn’t send backup or a replacement. He did not want to share the credit for Pope’s capture.

  Baal said, “You need me. And you trust me to protect you. We have been working as a team. We could continue to do so once you are successful in this mission.”

  “Perhaps.”

  Baal smiled at the prospect of that. “Maybe the Collaborate will see that Glouks are more than mindless soldiers and labor.”

  But Yurek didn’t intend to tell the C about the Glouk.

  Baal put his hand near the bandaged gash on his leg. “Can you bring healing drugs back for me? Black Lavender?”

  Yurek nodded. “Get into the driver’s seat, and I’ll instruct you on how to operate the car. You’ll be even more useful once you learn that.”

  He wouldn’t tell the Glouk that he needed him to drive. He had to use the car like a big crutch to help him walk around to the passenger side. He was having trouble breathing. His body was weakening, the pain dulling his senses. If he didn’t make it to the finestra soon, he would die. He had already waited too long, hoping he could heal on his own. His body had let him down.

  Yurek eased himself into the seat, dropping the last few inches when his hands, holding onto the roof of the car, gave out. The jarring movement sent a fresh wave of excruciating pain through him. It would take more than three hours to get to the nearest finestra. He hoped he would make it.

  Chapter 15

  The drive through the mountains to the finestra was twisty, cold, and mostly through the middle of nowhere. Petra and Cheveyo stopped in one small town to fill the gas tank, and her butt was so sore and numb from sitting on the bike that she didn’t care how she looked as she vigorously massaged the circulation back into it. As he gassed up, he watched her with barely suppressed mirth.