“Can you prop her up?” Lyla asked me.
I slid my hands under Mercy’s neck and shoulders and leaned her into a sitting position.
“Okay, open up.” Lyla took a cracker and held it to Mercy’s lips. Reluctantly, Mercy bit down and chewed a tiny piece. “That’s a good girl. Now, here comes the choo-choo,” Lyla cooed as she force-fed Mercy another piece.
Mercy flashed her a look of annoyance. That was a good sign.
“Here’s the juice.” The nurse came forward with a carton of orange juice, a straw protruding from the top. “Little sips, remember?”
Mercy drank the juice and the color slowly came back to her face. Her cheeks flushed with a pinkish glow while her eyes brightened back to life. She was definitely starting to look better.
Lyla fed her another cracker. This time Mercy took a healthy bite and chewed eagerly.
“Thank you,” Mercy said.
I exhaled, not realizing that I’d been holding my breath nearly this entire time.
“Feeling better?” the nurse asked. “Or do I need to call your father?”
Mercy shook her head. “I’m okay. You don’t have to call.” Sheepishly she looked up at the nurse. “Sorry.”
“No need to be sorry, hon. But if you start to feel sick again, you come straight back here, got it?” Mercy nodded and the nurse went over to her desk and took out a pad of paper. “I’ll write you kids a pass for your next class.”
“Thanks, Ms. Dwyer,” Lyla responded.
Mercy continued to eat and drink as my anxiety level receded.
“Did I faint?” She quietly asked.
“Yes, but … ” Lyla turned to me, “What’s your name again?”
“Gage.”
“Right. Gage caught you. You already look better and I’m sure that by tonight you’ll be ready to party.”
“Ha ha,” Mercy said mockingly.
“It’s useless to try and avoid it. You’re going out and that’s all there is to it.”
“I don’t know … ” I started to protest.
“Gage is worried about you, Mercy. He’s quite the knight in shining armor, which leaves me with only one choice. He’s just going to have to be your date for tonight.”
Mercy and I exchanged a look of utter embarrassment. Her mouth was still full of food, but her expression said it all.
“Um, that’s really nice, but I don’t think … ” I stammered.
Lyla cut me off. “You don’t know me, seeing as we just met. But you should know that I pretty much always get what I want. So there’s no real point in fighting this.” Lyla shrugged as if the conversation was over.
Mercy swallowed the rest of the cracker. “Lyla!” she said scoldingly. Then she turned to me. “You don’t have to, I mean, she’s just being, well, her.”
“Oh, well, if you don’t want me to then … ”
“She does, trust me.” Lyla smiled mischievously.
“Stop talking about me like I’m not here,” Mercy said forcefully. Her strength was returning more quickly.
“So, Gage. How ’bout it?”
“I’d love to.”
Chapter Six
Lyla and I walked Mercy back to class, though I made my exit before we actually reached the door. It was not the time to be seen by Mr. Andreas. For the time being it was much better to keep to the shadows.
Keeping an eye on Mercy, learning as much as I could about her, was all part of my plan. The strange sensation that I got in my stomach when I agreed to be her date was not part of the plan. I wasn’t supposed to feel that way about her.
I knew full well that the other Hunters—Rae, Jinx, Zee—would warn me against going. They would tell me that I was getting in too deep. And though they were right, if I hadn’t gone, I might not have been able to save her from Nathaniel.
Accompanying Mercy to her birthday party was a mixture of awkward and awesome. She looked hot in her gray party dress. Her hair cascaded in curls down her back. She smiled at me, trying to keep up the conversation. She was nice to me, and completely unaware of who I was. Under normal circumstances, I would’ve ended her life without giving it a second thought. But she looked at me and talked to me like I was human. I wanted to touch her, to hold her. I kept imagining the taste of her lips.
The party was in full swing, people dancing and talking and music pumping. I lost sight of Mercy immediately. After fruitlessly searching the room for her, I decided to check the alley. It was there that I saw her, pinned to the wall by Nathaniel—Mr.Andreas.
“Let her go!” I ordered.
Slowly, methodically, he turned toward me, all the while gripping Mercy by the arms. “I should’ve known you’d come sniffing around.”
Mercy and I locked eyes. Fear, confusion, panic, every distressed emotion possible seemed to radiate from her.
“I said, let her go.” Cautiously, I crept closer.
Nathaniel released his grip suddenly and Mercy fell to the ground. She flattened herself as best she could against the wall, scrambling to regain her footing.
From his breast pocket, Nathaniel removed a small caliber pistol. The deliberate click of the gun as he pointed it in my direction stopped me in my tracks. Though I’ve dodged bullets before, my focus was split between myself and Mercy and I didn’t trust that I could react in time.
Mercy, still cowering, covered her ears and squeezed her eyes shut.
Nathaniel titled his head to the right, smirking. He knew he had me. He smelled my fear. My heart pounded in my ears, drowning out all other noise. I positioned myself, ready to jump at any moment.
He let out a small, maniacal laugh, shoved the gun into his mouth, and pulled the trigger.
Startled, I stumbled back and hit the wall. Seconds later, Mercy’s whole body began to shake. “Mercy!”
Rushing toward her, I drew her into me. “You’re okay. You’re okay.” I kept telling her.
“He shot himself. He’s dead. He’s dead,” she babbled.
I tried to hold her, but the shaking increased until she broke free of my arms and fell, her knees and hands smacking against the concrete. Acting quickly, I scooped her into my arms and held her tightly against my chest.
“Mercy! Mercy! Look at me!”
Her body convulsed and seized. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head. There were others in the alley now. I could sense them even with my back turned.
“Call an ambulance!” I yelled. “Come on, Mercy. Don’t do this. Stay with me. Please.”
I’d failed her. I’d failed The Hunters. Violent anger rushed through me. I wanted to pummel Nathaniel, throttle him, tear him limb from limb. He was purposefully messing with me. It wasn’t that I didn’t expect that kind of thing from him, it was that I was clueless as to why. He could’ve shot me, wounded me long enough to take Mercy and escape, but he didn’t.
Lyla and her boyfriend Jay rushed to Mercy. Though it was agony to leave, police cars and an ambulance roared through the alley and I couldn’t stay. In the confusion, I backed away and out of sight, cursing myself and my stupidity the entire time.
***
Fleeing the scene, leaving Mercy there—I hated it. I wanted to be in the ambulance with her. I didn’t want to leave her side because I knew what was going to happen. And now, seeing Mercy, or rather Mercy as Lyla, from across the parking lot, confirmed my worst fears. Mercy has breached. It’s time to formulate a new plan.
With Rae gone, I slip through the hospital doors in search of Mercy’s room, which I find on the fourth floor, ICU. She’s unconscious, supported by machines, with, from what I can tell, zero brain activity. Of course the doctors would have informed her family by now that she’s dead. For all intents and purposes she is dead, at least to the human eye. Hunters know better.
Her reddish brown hair is matted and caked across the pillow. Her eyes are taped shut. Tubes stick out of her from various portals: arms, chest, stomach. The faint blip from the machine in
the corner tells me that Mercy is on life support, her heart kept beating by the machine.
I only have minutes to act. This will go down in Hunter history as the most insane move ever, but I try not to think about that. My thoughts are on Mercy.
Ducking out into the hall I ride the elevators down to the basement to the doctor’s lockers. After busting one open, I grab ID and a lab coat and scrubs and rush back to the ICU.
Pulling this off is no easy feat. It’s not every day that I steal a body from a hospital.
I unhook her from the heart monitor and quickly duck back out of the room. The alarm sounds and nurses come running. They push fluids into her IVs, pump her chest, shock her twice, but Mercy’s body does not respond. They call her time of death at one forty-three AM.
“I don’t understand,” one of the nurses says. “Did the machines malfunction?”
“It happens, hon,” the older nurse replies. “Just add her to the angels.”
“So much for organ donation,” the first nurse laments. “Such a shame.”
Waiting out the next ten minutes is excruciating, but I know I have to keep my cool. When the time is right, I make my move.
“Someone called the morgue?” I say to the nurse at the desk.
“Bed 304,” she responds, barely looking up at me.
“Got it. Thanks.” I tap the desk and turn to leave.
“Wait,” she calls after me. I freeze, my pulse races. “Make sure you take the service elevator. Her family is still in the waiting room.”
“Of course.”
Once I’m in the elevator with Mercy’s body, I flip open my phone and send the text message that I know will spark fury.
Gage: Rae/meet me at hospital/have Mercy/hurry.
Rae’s car is waiting outside the food delivery entrance. Hoisting Mercy’s body from the bed and into my arms, I rush to meet her.
“Now you’ve just lost your mind!” She slams the door once we’re all inside. Mercy lies across the backseat. Rae drives while I ride shotgun.
“I had to. I couldn’t just leave her there.”
“Yes, you could have.” She slams on the gas, tearing through the empty streets at breakneck speed.
“I have a plan. You just need to trust me.”
“I’m here, aren’t I? I’d call that trust. But that doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re insane.”
“Just drive, Rae, I need a minute to think.”
Looking into the backseat at Mercy’s lifeless body, I question the validity and sanity of my actions. I stole her body. Jesus Christ! I’m in over my head.
Chapter Seven
Mercy
Rushing at Jay, I throw my arms around him, nearly knocking him over.
“Whoa,” he says. He stumbles backward, trying to support both of us.
“You believe me! I really thought you wouldn’t, but you do.” I squeeze and squeeze, hugging him with everything I have.
Jay releases me and steps back. “I don’t know what to believe. I mean, is this even possible? How? How does something like this happen?”
“I wish I knew.”
“Where’s Lyla?” His eyes widen. “Is she dead?”
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly.
“Oh, my God! Is she inside someone else’s body?” His hands cling to the side of his head as if he’s trying to keep his brain from exploding. “Jesus fucking Christ! How could you just let this happen?”
Stung by his words, my defensive mode kicks into high gear. “You think I wanted this to happen? Like this was some choice I made? What kind of person do you think I am? I wouldn’t do that to her, or to you.”
His hands slide from the side of his head to his mouth and finally come to a rest at his side. The look of horror, of sadness, on his face is gut wrenching. Knowing that I caused him despair and grief is torture.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him. Saying the words does nothing to lessen the agony for either of us.
He shakes his head back and forth, turns away from me, and sinks to the ground. Cautiously, I lay a hand on his shoulder.
Suddenly, Jay pops up. “I thought this day couldn’t possibly get any worse. Losing you, when they said you were dead, do you know what that did to me?”
My mouth hangs open. Words escape me. I’d seen him cry for me, but to hear him say how much it hurt leaves me speechless.
“How am I supposed to react to this, Ly … ” He breaks off. “ … Mercy. You’re not Lyla, you’re Mercy.”
I nod and hang my head in shame.
“This is too much, you know. I can’t … I don’t … ” Jay’s eyes fill with tears.
“I’m sorry,” I say again.
All the unspoken words hang in the air between us. Though I want to say more, to try to make him feel better, what’s the point? He deserves to be angry with me. He’s definitely earned the right to grieve, so I think it’s best to leave him to it.
I don’t know how long we stand there, facing each other, staring at the ground. As uncomfortable as all the not talking is, I know I can’t be the one to start the conversation. Being patient isn’t exactly a strong suit of mine and the waiting is difficult.
After a while, Jay simply says, “We should get back.”
Jay and I walk back to the building and ride the elevator to three. My dad and Kate are still in the waiting room.
“You all right, Ly?” Kate asks.
Kate, Lyla’s legal guardian since their father died of a heart attack two years ago, is always looking out for us.
Lyla and Kate’s mother lost her battle with cancer when Lyla was only two. She barely remembers her and though she misses her, Lyla’s never lacked a motherly figure. Kate more than made up for any loss Lyla might have felt, and when my mother died, Kate stepped in and filled as much of that void as she could.
Part of me wonders if Jay will just blurt it out, tell everyone what I’d told him. Will I feel relief? Or will I only feel restraints when the people in white coats come to take me away?
Getting Jay to believe me was one thing, but convincing Kate and my father won’t be so easy. Jay was convinced by the dirt I had on him. There isn’t anything about Kate or my father that only I know.
Jay and I sit next to each other and across from my dad and Kate.
“Lyla, did you hear me?” Kate’s voice interrupts my thoughts.
“Sorry, what?”
“I asked if you were okay?”
“Oh, um, yeah, I guess.” I trip over the words, unsure exactly if I sound enough like Lyla. If I can’t come clean, I’m going to have to try and pretend to be her, at least for a little while.
Kate rises from the chair. “We should go home.”
No! Leaving the hospital, leaving my body is not an option. What if they cremate it? I blurt out, “I don’t want to go. I can’t leave.”
I look to Jay, pleading with him to help me. I can tell he understands my panic, but that he doesn’t know what to do.
“C’mon,” he pauses and then forces out, “Lyla.” Jay puts his hand on my shoulder. “It’ll be okay.”
“No, Jay, I can’t leave. I need to stay. What if they … ” I can’t make myself say the word cremate out loud, though I am screaming it in my head.
They’ll think I’m crazy, that I’m acting hysterical, but I have to do something. Racing toward my father, I kneel in front of his chair. “Don’t cremate the body. Please, Mr. Clare, please. You can’t. You can’t.”
He lifts me from the ground and wraps his arms around me. “Lyla, honey, everything will be fine.” I clutch him, inhaling his familiar scent.
“Excuse me,” a deep voice booms. We all turn. A husky police officer stands a few feet away. “Pardon the interruption, folks. I’m Officer Davies. I’m here to take your statement.”
He is looking right at me. At Lyla.
“Do you mind answering a few questions for me? I promise not to take up much of your time.”
He ushers me away from my father, from the warmth. Icy chills pelt my skin. Folding my arms does nothing to steady the shivering.
Expressions of concern mixed with fear show on the faces of Kate, Jay, and my dad. They linger, unsure if they should sit, stand, or leave the room. I flash Jay a look that tells him to not leave me alone with the cops.
A female officer accompanies Officer Davies. She wears a navy pinstripe suit and ill-fitting loafers. I think of Lyla and how she would disapprove of the boxy, scuffed shoes.
I follow the officers to the corner of the room and sit when they do.
“Spell your full name for me please,” requests Officer Davies.
“L-y-l-a M-c-C-r-i-m-o-n-s.” He scribbles in a small, worn, leather notebook as I speak.
My father, Jay, and Kate sit opposite us, far enough away that they can still listen in without being too obvious.
“Can you describe for me what you saw tonight? You were having a party?” Officer Davies prods me to start talking.
“Birthday party. For Mercy.” Speaking of myself in the third person is beyond awkward.
“Do you know why she was in the alley?”
Yes, I did know why. I’d gone out to get some air. But I hadn’t told that to Lyla, so I shook my head.
“Why were you in the alley?”
I tell him what I think is the truth, that Lyla went outside to look for me.
“Was this before or after the gunshot?”
My father gasps. Apparently he’d been unaware of what’d happened.
“Ms. McCrimons?” Officer Davies is anxious for my answer.
“Huh?”
“I asked you if you arrived in the alley before or after the gunshot.”
“Before.” It came out like a question.
“Did you see Mr. Andreas pull the trigger?”
Oh God! What do I tell him? I have no idea what Lyla saw. Hesitating, I look to Jay.
Into the Dark Page 3
