Into the Dark

by Caroline T. Patti

  Tilting her head to the side she says, “A little slow to catch on, don’t you think?”

  “Why? You didn’t have to kill her!”

  “I never have to do anything. But I’m allowed to have a little fun.”

  “Fun? You’re sick.” All the fear I feel is replaced with rage, steaming, violent rage.

  I fly at her, grab her neck and squeeze until my fingers scream in pain. She struggles against me, claws at my hands. It’s a natural reaction that any human being would have. But this is no human being. After a momentary struggle, she lets go and smiles.

  The smile on her face is wrong. All wrong. I let go.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Gage

  With the second body evenly distributed between us, Nathaniel and I lug it over to the dumpster when suddenly he halts.

  “Where’s Mercy?” he asks.

  My head whips around, hoping for any sign of her, but she’s nowhere to be found.

  As quickly as we can, we load the second body into the dumpster. Blood stains our hands and clothes. Normally, I’d worry that someone might spot us and alert the police, but I can’t think about that now. My focus is solely on Mercy.

  “Look!” I point to the ground near the dumpster. Nathaniel follows my gaze until he, too, stares at the needle on the ground.

  Carefully he picks it up and examines it. “They took her.”

  With that realization, I lose it. Kicking and punching at the dumpster, I wail out my aggression. I don’t know if I’m shouting anything coherent or intelligible, it’s more like the ravings of a madman.

  Mercy. They took Mercy. My hands shake. I clench and unclench my fists as my heart pounds against my ribs. I bit my lip to keep it from quivering. I am unraveling. How did this happen to me? How did I go from steeled Hunter to this?

  Everything I feel is so human. It’s stupid to keep on denying it. I have feelings for her. I worry about her. I may even love … No. I can’t think about that now.

  Nathaniel hasn’t said anything during my temper tantrum, which I appreciate. His sarcastic comments are not what I need right now.

  “What’s the plan?” he finally asks me.

  For the first time ever, I don’t know.

  “Gage, we can’t stand around all day kicking dumpsters. We have to figure out a way to get in there.”

  “There’s only one way.”

  Nathaniel catches on quick, the smirk he wears tells me he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

  Nathaniel claps me on the back. “This is going to be fun.”

  We make our way to the hotel. The lobby is bustling, which is ideal for slipping in unnoticed. Nathaniel surveys the surroundings. Hanging back a bit, I take a good look around. Nothing appears out of place. There’s zero indication that something disturbing is going on.

  After a short wait in line it’s my turn to approach the front desk.

  “I’m looking for Ariana White,” I inform the woman. “She’s expecting me.”

  Typing into her computer the woman furrows her brow and says, “I’m sorry, sir, there’s no one here by that name.”

  Figures. “Try Molly Sherman or Molly Sherman Clare.”

  Again, her fingernails tap against the keys, the faint clicking sound grates my nerves as my impatience grows.

  “Here we are,” she says. “Penthouse suite. I’ll have to call ahead. There’s a notice that she’s not to be disturbed.”

  “No need,” I say. “I’ll try again another time.”

  “Would you care to leave a message?”

  The thought crosses my mind to leave some cryptic message, but it’s better to keep the element of surprise on our side. “No message, thank you.”

  Nathaniel is waiting for me in the bar. I sit down next to him and watch him down a tumbler of whiskey.

  “She’s in the penthouse suite,” I tell him.

  He responds with, “Of course.”

  My thumb raps against the rail of the bar. Nathaniel reaches over and holds it down.

  “Stop. Your agitation is annoying me.”

  “Yeah, well, your lack of agitation is annoying me. This has to work or we’re going to be in a serious trouble.”

  “I know what’s at stake, Gage. You don’t need to keep reminding me.”

  “You’ve known Ariana was alive this whole time, haven’t you?”

  Nathaniel’s grudgingly nods.

  “And you knew she’d come for Mercy?”

  He nods again.

  “You came to protect Mercy, didn’t you?”

  Nathaniel rotates toward me slowly. “Yes, I did.”

  I know I should stop there, that I don’t need to hear the rest, but I can’t stop. “Because you love her.” It isn’t a question.

  “Just like you. Let’s go,” Nathaniel says, breaking my concentration.

  In one smooth motion, Nathaniel slides off the barstool and stalks out the room. With purpose he crosses the lobby and sidles up closely, but not too closely, behind a twenty-something bellhop.

  The bellhop is of average height, but more muscular than most. He works out, evident by the way the fabric of his shirt strains as he walks.

  Nathaniel’s mark is no pushover. It won’t be easy to take him down.

  The bellhop glances over his shoulder at us as we follow him into the elevator bank. He’s nonchalant about it, but I know we’ve raised his suspicion.

  When the elevator dings, announcing its arrival, we three huddle together as the car empties. Once inside, the bellhop motions to us and asks, “Floor?”

  “The penthouse,” Nathaniel replies.

  The bellhop turns his back to us again and that’s when Nathaniel pounces.

  He’s not as unsuspecting as we would like. He fights back, giving Nathaniel a run for his money. He almost knocks Nathaniel out. I have to step in and get my hands dirty. It isn’t long before Nathaniel and I pin him down.

  He struggles against us and I start to lose my grip. “Hurry up,” I shout to Nathaniel.

  Nathaniel’s breathing intensifies and his face contorts right before he shatters into a million pieces. The blast blows me back against the elevator wall. I lose my hold on the bellhop. Fortunately for us, he’s too stunned to move.

  The pieces of Nathaniel swarm and then dive into the open mouth of the horrified bellhop. His entire body goes rigid and then convulses. Flopping around on the elevator floor, he flips from his back to his stomach and then he is motionless.

  He stays still for too long. Then, slowly, he pushes himself up into a standing position.

  “Nathaniel?”

  He stretches and flexes his muscles down to his fingertips then cracks his neck. “It’s a bit snug, but it’ll do.”

  What we’re doing is wrong. So wrong. It goes against everything I’ve ever been taught, against everything I’ve ever known or believed. I’m aiding and abetting in a breach. Have I really come to this? Have I sunk this low?

  Yes, I have. The evidence is right in front of me.

  But there’s no turning back now. We’ve already gone too far over the edge to try scrambling back up the cliff. Since there’s no retreating, the only choice is to move forward.

  The elevator stops at the top floor.

  “Tenth floor. Women’s lingerie,” Nathaniel jokes.

  I grab his arm. “Just surveillance, Nathaniel. Don’t do anything stupid.”

  “Who, me?”

  Nathaniel and I are two steps away from the elevator when the penthouse door flings open and two men followed by a woman come running toward us. Nathaniel is quick to react and he yanks me back into the elevator. Pushing the door close button over and over I pray that the door closes before they get to us.

  It does.

  “What was that?”

  “Something’s wrong,” Nathaniel answers.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Mercy

  My insides pull in different d
irections, trying to rip me apart. Sweat accumulates and trickles, then gushes from beneath Lyla’s thick hair and down her back. Her heart pounds and pounds like a bass drum. I curl into a ball and will myself together.

  The pain comes in waves and then in jolts, stabbing, scorching, until every nerve screams in agony. The sounds that come from me are from a place deep inside. I don’t even know how I’m creating them.

  All I want is for it to end.

  And so it does.

  But what follows is much worse.

  I’m no longer on the cot. I’m across the room, standing over the hole in the floor. Lyla’s body is motionless on the bed.

  Oh God. What have I done?

  Looking down at myself I see that I’m transparent, practically see-through, like a ghost. I’m wearing the gray dress that Lyla picked out for my birthday party. It’s what I was wearing the night that I supposedly died. My hands, my skin, my legs and feet, they’re all there and yet not there.

  Cautiously, I move toward Lyla, my feet never quite connecting to the ground. She still isn’t moving. Reaching out, I try to feel a pulse, but my hand goes through her wrist and I yank it back.

  Lyla, I’m so sorry.

  I thought I’d spoken the words out loud, but my voice is only in my head.

  Moving away from the cot, I let my legs fold underneath me and I sit on the floor. It feels like sitting, I know there’s something hard beneath me, but at the same time I can’t feel the actual floor.

  Does it really matter? I wonder. Does how I feel mean anything anymore? No. Not after what I’d done.

  Until this moment, I’d hoped that maybe Gage and Nathaniel and everyone else were wrong about me and about Breachers. Until this moment I’d believed that maybe I was different and that there was a way to save Lyla. I was wrong.

  Slowly, I let go of all hope and let the guilt take root. I want to cry and mourn forever.

  Lyla’s hand twitches. I think maybe I’d imagined it, but then her foot moves slightly and she moans.

  Lyla!

  I yell and yell, but she can’t hear me.

  “My head.” Her voice is scratchy, raw. She closes her eyes and her head lolls, but I can see her chest rise and fall. She’s breathing.

  Lyla? Can you hear me?

  Sluggishly, she rolls over to her side and then pushes herself into a sitting position. She moves like her body weighs a metric ton. Helpless, I watch as she struggles.

  She isn’t dead. I haven’t killed her. I want to rejoice with her, to hug her and squeeze her and apologize until I’m hoarse, but I can’t do any of that.

  Lyla must be scared out of her mind, not to mention confused or possibly hurt, and there’s nothing I can do to help her.

  “Worst hangover ever,” Lyla mumbles.

  Not a hangover! Lyla, look around. You’re in a cell. You’re in danger.

  Almost as if she hears me, Lyla looks around. She squints as though the light hurts her eyes. Rubbing her temples she lifts her head all the way and the look on her face tells me that she’s finally starting to realize that something is very wrong.

  “Where am I?”

  Scrambling back onto the cot until she’s flattened against the wall, like she did when she was little, Lyla jams her fists into her eye sockets and hums a little tune.

  I’m so sorry for all of this, Lyla. I wish I could help you, explain to you what’s happening.

  Lyla drags herself off the cot and edges along the wall to the door. She tries the handle only to find it locked. “Hey, let me out,” she yells. Pulling harder she yanks the door, but it won’t budge. “Let me out!” she yells again.

  Letting go of the door, Lyla looks around the room again. Panic washes over her face. She backs herself into the door, spins around and starts pounding. “Help! Somebody help me!” She bangs and bangs until her hand is red.

  With her cheek against the door, Lyla begins to cry. “Please. Please don’t leave me in here.”

  The lock on the door clicks. Scared, Lyla backs away. She backs right through me and I gasp. The door opens and Jay, held by two large men, stumbles in.

  “Jay!” Lyla rushes for him just as the men let go. He looks like he’s going to fall, but Lyla catches him.

  The weight of him against her nearly overtakes her, but Lyla’s strong. She half carries him over to the cot and lowers him down. Jay sits slumped against the wall as Lyla checks him over.

  “Jay, are you hurt? What’s happening? Where are we?” She holds his face in her hands. The bruise that surrounds his left eye is rapidly swelling and darkening in color. His lip is cut and caked with blood, as is his left nostril. He’s taken a beating.

  “Jay,” Lyla tries again. “Talk to me, please.”

  “Mercy,” he whispers.

  Oh no.

  “Jay?”

  Jay closes his eyes and rests his head against the wall. He holds up his hand and says, “Just give me a sec.”

  Lyla waits, wiping her face of tears. She’s not a patient person and I can see her need for answers building. “Who did this to you?” she asks. “What happened? I can’t remember anything. Why can’t I remember?”

  Jay grunts as he moves himself into a more upright position. His left eye barely opens, and he grimaces when he runs his fingers along the welted skin.

  “Jay, I’m scared,” Lyla says.

  “We’re gonna be okay,” he says to reassure her.

  “Do you know where we are?” she asks.

  “Yeah.” He shifts positions. “It’s the old meat packing plant in midtown.”

  “How did we get here?”

  Jay shakes his head, like he’s trying to rattle the memory loose. “I was at home, watching TV and I heard my mom scream. I ran down the hall and then I saw … ” His voice trails off.

  Lyla gasps. “Oh, my God! Is she okay?”

  Jay shakes his head again, swallows hard. He says through clenched teeth, “I don’t know. Someone hit me from behind and I woke up tied to a chair in a room with one light hanging from the ceiling like in some freaking gangster movie or something.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s your mother,” Jay starts. “She’s here. At first I didn’t want to believe it because she’s dead, but she knew things and … ” He doesn’t finish.

  Lyla looks shocked. “My mom?”

  “It was freaky. She kept asking me all these questions about you and Gage. She wanted to know everything he told you.”

  “Gage? But that doesn’t make sense. None of this makes sense. My mom is dead. We buried her. I was there. I watched her body go into the ground.”

  That’s right, Ly. We buried your mom. But we didn’t bury mine.

  “Mercy, your mother’s body was never found. She’s here. And she’s pissed.”

  “It must be your head. You’re so confused.”

  “I’m not confused. Your mom is very much alive and I know you don’t want to believe me, but it’s true, Mercy. Your mother is the reason we’re in this mess.”

  Lyla freezes. “Jay, I’m not Mercy. I’m Lyla, can’t you see that?”

  Jay scoots forward and stands to his full height. “Are you playing some type of game? Cuz it’s not fucking funny.”

  “I’m not playing any game. Why would I do that?”

  Jay grabs Lyla forcefully and shakes her. “Who are you? What have you done with Mercy?”

  “Jay, let go. You’re hurting me.” Lyla squirms beneath his grasp.

  He releases his grip and eyes her skeptically. “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know,” Lyla starts. “Something’s wrong with you.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Jay, it’s me, Lyla.” Her voice breaks ever so slightly when she says, “Don’t you know me?”

  Jay doesn’t know what to think or what to believe. This is too much for him. I can see it. He’s near to breaking.

  I wish I could tel
l him, help him see that his girlfriend, who he thought he lost, is standing right in front of him.

  Lyla puts both her hands on Jay’s chest and she kisses him beneath his chin. His eyes close and his body tenses. “Jay,” she whispers against his throat. “Please come back to me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Gage

  We ride the elevator down to the lobby. By the time we get there, there’s no sign of Ariana’s men. A quick search reveals no clues as to which way they’ve gone or why they’ve run out in such a hurry.

  “Hey, Darren,” a cute girl with blond curls and a sweet smile calls out to us. “Jim says there’s a backload at the curb and he wants you out there.”

  Nathaniel and I look at each other. He responds, “Well, Jim’s going to have to wait.”

  “Rude. What’s with you?”

  “Headache,” Nathaniel tells her. “I’m going home.”

  We head toward the exit.

  “So, will I see you later?” she calls after him.

  “Probably on the news,” Nathaniel quips at a volume only he and I can hear.

  Once outside, we take off down the street and turn the corner. Sacramento’s midtown is full of alleys, plenty of places to duck into and take cover. Soon, Nathaniel and I are out of sight.

  Nathaniel begins rooting around.

  “What are you doing?” I ask him.

  “I’m looking for something sharp, like a glass bottle. Be useful and help me.”

  This is the part of our plan that I dread, the part where we dispose of Darren. The internal conflict is undeniable, but there isn’t time to dwell so I help Nathaniel until eventually we find what we’re looking for.

  “Here.” I hand him an empty beer bottle.

  “I thought for sure you’d want to do the honors.”

  “Just do it and get it over with.”

  Nathaniel bashes the bottle against the side of the building, breaking it in half. Jagged edged and sharp, the bottle is now a weapon. Nathaniel uses it to end the life of Darren the bellhop.

  The body falls to the ground and I drag it into the nearby bushes, concealing it the best I can. While I hide the evidence, Nathaniel returns to form.