Transcending Darkness

by Airicka Phoenix

  There was loud chatter in the background, the low hum of too many people in a single place.

  “The mall with Phil. Why? Everything okay?”

  Juliette frowned. “Phil’s with you?”

  “Yeah, we’re at the food court. He got a call he had to take so he’s wandering around somewhere. He’ll be back in bit though. Why?”

  Confusion built in Juliette’s chest, a sensation that insisted she was missing something. Why would Vi still have her security detail and not Juliette?

  “Juliette?”

  “Nothing,” she said quickly. “I was just curious. You wouldn’t happen to know what happened to Javier and Laurence, would you? They’re not at the house.”

  “Well, you can’t expect them to stick around when Mrs. Tompkins is no longer there, can you? They must have been recalled or whatever happens to bodyguards that aren’t needed.”

  She should have known that, Juliette realized with some embarrassment. Of course they were called back. They couldn’t stay when they had no one to watch. But that didn’t explain where Jake and Melton went off to. The pair hadn’t left her side since they were appointed as her detail.

  “I’m going to Killian’s for a minute,” she told her sister. “But I’ll be back later tonight, all right?”

  She could almost hear Vi shrug. “All right. Have fun.”

  The line went dead with a soft click. Juliette put her whole focus on driving rather than worrying herself sick. It was a blessing that the roads were clear. A light flurry had started and snow swirled around the streetlights, making the halos of light shimmer. They blew against Juliette’s windshield, forcing her to start the wipers. Ice was beginning to form, turning the road into a rink. Her fingers tightened on the wheel.

  The winding hill leading to Killian’s estate hadn’t been shoveled and snow spun out beneath the tires. Even with her high beams, the road was dark, forcing her to an almost snail’s pace. At the top, the gates opened, which surprised her. She hadn’t been sure what sort of greeting she would get. Pulling into park next to the fountain, she tore out the keys, grabbed the phone, and hopped out. The grounds were brightly illuminated, but she still didn’t see any of the stationed guards. She knew they were there, watching. She could feel their eyes. She ignored the prickling sensation and sprinted to the front doors.

  They opened as she had expected them to, but it was Frank looming on the threshold, his face that perfect blankness only he knew how to pull off.

  “I need to see him, please,” she blurted at once.

  “I’m sorry, but Mr. McClary isn’t taking visitors at the moment.”

  Juliette actually flinched at visitors, but she kept her voice even when she spoke. “Please, Frank. He can’t go on the way he is. It’s going to get him killed. Please just let me talk to him for five minutes—”

  “I’m sorry, miss, but I have my orders.”

  “I love him, Frank,” she said so fast she almost cut her tongue when it caught between her chattering teeth. “It would kill me if something happens to him and I didn’t at least try.”

  If he felt anything at all by her declaration, his features gave nothing away. He stared at her with the same careful vacancy as ever.

  “I’m sorry,” he said again, sounding like he genuinely meant it. “There is nothing I can do. Please excuse me while I prepare for the shift change in five minutes.”

  With that, the door was shut in her face. She stood under the soft glow of light streaming from the bulb above her head. Flakes of snow danced around her, glittering as they caught on her clothes and hair. She stared at the piece of wood keeping her from the pigheaded man inside and wondered if it was possible for someone to be so smart and yet so stupid.

  Vision blurring, she began to turn away. Her foot lifted when Frank’s words hit her.

  Five minutes. There would be no one guarding the door in five minutes!

  Elated, she snapped back around and stayed where she was. The door had no peephole so she felt confident no one could see her and if they knew she was there, she hoped they wouldn’t say anything. She waited, ignoring the sting in her cheeks where the wind kept nipping at the same spot. She stuffed her trembling hands into her pockets and did a little bounce, like that could somehow warm her up. It was the longest five minutes of her life, but it arrived. She wasted no time reaching for the doorknob. It felt oddly warm against the frozen state of her hand. The door gave easily and she scrambled inside.

  The warmth made her whimper. It enveloped her in its familiar scent of floor cleaner, wood polish, and cinnamon. She breathed it in quickly before shutting the door and hurrying to the stairs. Her heart drummed anxiously between her ears, sounding impossibly loud in the deserted corridor. She knew the men did routine tours of all the floors, but during shift change, everyone met downstairs before splitting off. That gave her no time at all to get to Killian before she was seen.

  Legs lengthening to widen her strides, she practically ran through the northern part of the house. Her every breath came out in choked pants that seemed to be in competition with her heart to see who could be louder. She glanced over her shoulder once before rounding the final corner and coming to a stop at the open doors leading into Killian’s office.

  He wasn’t at his desk. The sight of the empty chair made her stomach muscles tense. She had been so sure he would be there. He always was. It made no sense … then she spotted him by the window, nearly concealed in the ring of darkness the single light on his desk had created. He stood with his back to the door, his shoulders unnaturally straight. His aura alone broke her heart. It radiated heat the way an open wound would. Its viciousness rippled through the room, filling it with a heaviness that seemed almost animated. Part of her wondered if she could feel it like an invisible wall if she reached out. But she knew she had very little time before she was spotted.

  Moving quickly, she darted into the room and shut the doors behind her. The lock snapped into place with a deft flick of her wrist. Her heart cracked wildly in her chest as she spun to face the man turning away from the window slowly.

  Giving him no time to react, she marched to his desk and tore the cord out of the phone. She scooped it and his cell up and ran with them to the bathroom. Both were tossed a bit carelessly into the sink with a noisy clatter. The lock was flicked into place and she shut the door, locking his communication devices inside.

  Then she faced the man watching her through the thick folds of black. The shadows painted over his features, turning him into one of their own. But she could just make out the glimmer of his eyes and the white flutter of his dress shirt.

  “I don’t accept,” she panted.

  He said nothing.

  Swallowing down the paste collecting at her throat, she closed the distance between them, but stopped when a good length of space still remained. She dug into her pocket and unearthed the letter.

  “You can’t break our contract,” she pressed on. “Not … not like this. Not like what we had meant nothing.” Her voice broke, but she plowed on. “I have done everything you asked me to. I followed every line of the contract you wrote. I never once gave you a reason to regret me.” Her bottom lip trembled and she bit down hard on it. Still, the tears slipped, beyond her control. “You are not allowed to throw us away. I won’t let you, and this … this stupid letter…” The single sheet of paper tore too easily in her brutal grasp despite the heavy weight of its contents. “It goes against the contract.” The annulment papers fluttered like fat snowflakes to the ground at her feet. She sniffled. “You said yourself that the only way to end our contract was with a very good reason in writing. You never stated your reason so I don’t accept it.”

  Seconds were counted with every thump of her heart waiting for him to ease the pain. Her own labored breaths was the only sound in the room. The deafening silence loomed as thick and vast as the darkness keeping him in its clutches. Around her in a dim halo, the desk lamp shone, leaving her painfully exposed while he kept his fe
atures concealed. There was some kind of twisted poetry in the scene, she mused dully. Him in the folds of dark and she desperately beckoning him into the light with her, because a part of her knew that if she could just get him closer, he’d see that she was more important than his revenge. She needed that. She needed him to pick her, to pick life and happiness. To pick a future together. All he had to do was move into the circle.

  “There is and never was an us.” Said low and yet those words hissed the way a knife did against stone. She felt the cold slice all the way through her. “From the very beginning, I warned you there wouldn’t be. This was never a relationship and you assured me that you understood. That alone defaults the contract. As to a reason, I don’t require one. I opted to pay the penalties.”

  “By … by giving me things I don’t want?” she threw back. “When have I ever wanted your money or … things? I don’t want any of it. I just want you.”

  There was a subtle shift in his posture. It was quick so she wasn’t sure if she imagined it or if it had been a play of shadows.

  “That was never a possibility.”

  “Why?” She started forward, but came to an abrupt halt when he visibly jerked back. The gesture hurt worse than his rejection. “I don’t understand why. What did I do?”

  Light kissed the side of his face he turned towards the window. Thick lines painted most of it, but she saw enough there to make her hope maybe…

  “You broke me.” The light slipped away with just a shift of his head back in her direction. “You took away everything that I was, everything that made me strong. You made me forget what I was and why. Because of my carelessness, it took me two weeks to realize Molly was missing. That was my fault. I let myself be drawn into something I have always known I could never have, but it was because of you. You’re not good for me, Juliette. You’re the thing I need to keep away from if I am to keep fighting. You make me weak and weak men die.”

  She didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t shouted and yet they slammed into her one syllable at a time like a metal fist. Pain reverberated through her in waves.

  He wasn’t finished. “Now, I must ask you to leave and not return. I will not take kindly to you barging into my office again, Miss Romero. Our arrangement is over and I expect there to be nothing else.”

  Her face lifted. “That’s it? You’re just going to let me go?” She continued when he said nothing. “Did you ever think that maybe all the things you think you lost were things you never needed? I’m not an expert on relationships, but I know that if someone feels right—”

  “There is a reason I don’t pick women like you, virgins with no idea how to tell apart lust with love. We had sex. Lots of sex. It was great sex, I won’t lie. But a real woman knows the difference, knows not to confuse the two. I apologize if you thought I would ever love you, but it’s not something I am capable of.”

  So curt. So professional. It rang of just how delusional she’d been. It really had only been a business venture for him. Now that business was over and she was no longer needed. He was done with her.

  White hot agony tore into her. It sank razor blades talons deep into her chest and ripped out her heart. She half expected it to be on the floor alongside the torn pieces of her dignity. Yet the saddest part wasn’t that she couldn’t seem to be able to feel her legs in order to move. It was the fact that she still loved him. That she would probably always love him even after this. She had foolishly given herself, all of herself, to a man who only saw her as a scratch to be itched. How could none of what they’d shared mean nothing to him? How had he not felt it?

  Carefully, with fingers she could barely feel, she undid the chain from around her neck. The pendent slid free of her coat and swung once, catching in the light before she gathered it gently in her palm. She stared at the tiny girl with her gem face and felt her insides crack open. A tear exploded across the pendant’s surface. Juliette wiped it away before setting the necklace on his desk.

  “I don’t want it back.”

  Maybe it was her imagination—the one that had betrayed and lied to her so far—but she could have sworn it was anguish she heard in his quiet murmur. She would have believed it if he hadn’t just finished telling her she’d meant nothing to him.

  She stepped away from the desk, away from the lamplight and into the darkness with him. It blanketed her, hiding her tears and the breath she seemed unable to catch. Barbwires had wound themselves around her chest, tearing into flesh and suffocating her oxygen. A hand flattened against her stomach. The other went to her mouth in some pitiful attempt to stifle the sob ledged in her throat.

  “Don’t … Juliette…”

  She was already running to the door, her ears ringing too loudly for her to be sure whether or not he’d actually spoken. But if he had, he didn’t stop her. He didn’t come after her, not even when she hit the bottom of the stairs. He wasn’t coming, she realized with a fresh surge of pain. He was letting her go.

  The sad, pathetic part of her actually waited, hoping that at any moment, he would appear, that he would charge down, scoop her up into his arms, and beg her not to go.

  He didn’t.

  Devastated, Juliette reached into her pocket and removed the phone and car keys. She was about to set them on the console table tucked against the corner of the foyer when movement out of the corner of her eye. Her head jerked up and her heart plummeted. Frank eyed her, silent and watchful. She wondered if maybe he’d expected Killian to reject her. Maybe he’d hoped that by doing so, she wouldn’t bother showing up at the manor anymore. Or maybe he had honestly hoped she would talk sense into Killian, which she hadn’t. She hadn’t even come close. But what did it matter? He hadn’t wanted her so why would he give up his need for retribution for her?

  Humiliated and shattered, Juliette went to him. She put the items into his massive palm without looking into those unfathomable eyes.

  “Please take care of him, Frank,” she whispered. “Don’t let anything happen to him, okay?”

  Not waiting for a response, she turned and hurried to the door.

  “Miss Romero, please allow me to get a car to drive you—”

  She shook her head. “You’ve already done so much. Thank you for everything.”

  Without a backwards glance, she threw open the door and threw herself into the night. The soft swirl of snow had turned into an almost blizzard. The wind howled and lashed against her with gleeful hatred. It ripped at her wet cheeks, turning her tears into shards of ice. Her lashes immediately hardened into spiky crystals. She ducked her head, but the frigid fingers swooped beneath her hem and raked at every inch of bare skin it could find. Little demons gnawed on the ends of her ears, making them burn. She tried to cover them with her hands, only to have her fingers instantly go numb. Forgoing that idea, she stuffed her balled fists into her pockets and ran.

  There was a convenience store at the bottom of the hill. If she could get there, she’d call a cab, she told herself. If she didn’t fall off the edge of the cliff first or get run over or die of hypothermia or exposure. Her cheerful thoughts kept her company all the way to the bottom. Every so often, she kept glancing back, hoping to see Killian’s car hurrying after her as he had the first night. It didn’t and that only further twisted the knife in her chest. By the time she hit the winding streets leading through the upper class suburban neighborhood, she had finally accepted that Killian wasn’t coming for her. That he really had let her go. That it was over. In no way did her acknowledgement dull the pain, but it gave her new focus—to wait until she got home before crying.

  Ahead, through the lashing swirl of snow, the lights of the 7-11 blinked and flickered. Just the sight of it nearly had her whimpering. She began to sprint, ignoring the numbness in her thighs where the cold had seeped through her jeans. Behind her, the roar of engine filled the otherwise slumbering night. She knew it was stupid, but she still stopped and glanced back.

  The black SUV broke through the storm with the ease of a gre
at shark. Lamplight sparked off the steel grill and glinted across the hood. Juliette’s heart picked up immediately in a premature dance of joy; for all she knew, Frank had sent someone to take her home out of pity.

  But the vehicle rolled to a stop and a familiar face hopped out of the driver’s side. Head bent, he jogged around to join her on the curb.

  “Mr. McClary has asked me to bring you back, miss,” he said, practically shouting to be heard.

  “Are you sure?”

  He nodded. “Please.”

  It dawned on her to say no. To tell Mr. McClary to go take a flying leap off a high cliff. But that didn’t happen. She let herself get propelled to the back door. It was yanked open and she started to climb inside when a hand shot out in front of her and closed over her mouth. Her muffled scream was swallowed with the wind as her head was forced back against his shoulder. Something sharp pierced the side of her neck and darkness jumped up to swallow her.

  The resounding bong resonated through the shallow waters of sleep. The unwelcome intrusion vibrated along her body, making her acutely aware of every ache and pain. She was also aware of the paste in her mouth and the foul stench of urine, sweat, fish and bleach making her gag reflexes go haywire. Her cheekbone throbbed as she shifted against her uncomfortable position.

  “Juliette?” the low hiss seemed as distant and unfamiliar as the persistent echo of metal vibrations under water. “Juliette, are you awake?”

  Woozy and harboring the mother of all headaches, Juliette pried open one eye. She blinked at the white film blurring the odd shapes stretching out before her. Beneath her palm, the floor radiated with its own arctic coldness. The crippling chill worked through all the places she lay in contact. One arm’s length away from her face, vertical bars of iron shot up to the ceiling. On the other side, a dark figure kept shifting.

  “Killian?”

  “Get up!” the voice hissed, still barely above a whisper, but it was the necessity in the command that urged Juliette to pull herself together.