Both men and boys piled into the two vans taken from the base. Clay drove one, while Isaac drove the other, and Lorcan rode shotgun with Isaac, ready to take over the wheel whenever one of them needed a break.
I hugged and kissed each of the guys goodbye, holding back tears as I waved to the boys. Though I knew they’d return, I still felt as though they were taking a part of my heart with them.
Kingsley and Alex took the opportunity to leave to go to the hospital. I wanted to go with them, but it felt wrong to abandon my aunt to the chaos the house was currently in—pillows and blankets everywhere, together with piles of wet clothes, and a kitchen that looked as though a swarm of locusts had gone through it. Besides, there was nothing I could do to help at the hospital. I’d probably only get in the way. I’d be far more useful helping out here.
That didn’t stop the tears from falling when I shut the door on them, though. My chest ached, and for a moment I just stood there, my forehead pressed against the back of the door.
Then I straightened and swiped away the tears with the back of my hand. They would be back. They promised. This wasn’t the end.
Besides, I had stuff to do.
I set about picking up after all the people who’d spent the night here.
The house felt weirdly empty with them gone. It seemed strange to only be me and my aunt, knocking around in this big house. Just the two of us again, as though none of it had ever happened.
Aunt Sarah had been right. There was nothing to eat in this place. Everything even remotely edible had been cleared out by the boys. I needed to do some grocery shopping.
“I’m going to the store,” I told Sarah. “You okay if I take your car?”
“Sure. I’m going to take a bath.”
“Can I get you anything?”
“Just an entire kitchen full of food,” she quipped.
I laughed. “I’ll do my best.”
At the store, I wandered around, dropping random things into the cart, completely lost in thought about everything that had happened. It seemed crazy to me that I didn’t have my experiences scrawled onto my forehead, that everyone around me just carried on as normal. People walked past me, some saying hello, while others nodded and smiled their greeting. I wanted to grab them by the shoulders and spew out my story, but I doubted anyone would believe me, and I’d probably look like a mad woman.
Instead, I acted like a normal member of society, placing bread, milk, and cartons of juice into the cart.
I paid for the groceries and drove home again.
I climbed out of the car and, carrying as many grocery bags as possible, I made my way back into the house.
“Only me,” I called as I walked in.
“Be down in a minute,” came my aunt’s muffled reply.
I used my shoulder to push open the kitchen door. Barging my way in, I turned and jumped out of my skin. Someone was sitting at the table. Gasping, I instinctively took a step back, the grocery bags falling from my arms. The carton of eggs spilled, several eggs cracking, clear albumen and yellow yolk leaking from the broken shell.
“Hello, Darcy.”
Devlin!
“What are you doing here?” I managed. “How did you get in?”
“I’m a Ghost, remember, Darcy. I’m good at slipping into places without anyone noticing.” He huffed air out through his nose in what I thought was supposed to be a poor imitation of a laugh. “Or at least, I was a Ghost, until you came along and ruined everything for me.”
Ice water slipped through my veins. Seeing him here was not going to be a good thing. My thoughts went to the guys. I wasn’t expecting Isaac and the others to be back for a few days, but Alex and Kingsley might return soon.
The ceiling above us creaked, and I suddenly remembered my aunt. If she knew something was wrong, she’d be able to call for help. But at the same time, I didn’t want her to walk in on this.
“I didn’t ruin anything.” I edged back again. “You did that all by yourself by getting involved with Hollan.”
He slammed his hand on the table, and I jumped and then froze. “I told you, that was a mistake!” His other hand remained beneath the table, and I flicked my line of sight down to it, trying to figure out what he was holding.
“Okay.” My voice was small.
“Didn’t you ever make a mistake?”
“I made plenty.” But they didn’t get an innocent man killed, I thought, but didn’t say out loud.
I took another tiny step back, and he whipped a gun from beneath the table and pointed the muzzle directly at me. Automatically, I put both hands in the air, my heart lurching.
“If you’d just kept your mouth shut with that reporter,” he snapped, “none of this would ever have happened.”
I shook my head, my eyes wide. “I didn’t know what that was at the time. I didn’t know what my father told me even meant anything.” This whole thing felt so unfair. So unjust. I’d never asked for any of this. “Besides, you could have just let it go. You didn’t need to send Isaac and the others after me.”
“Yes, I did. Or Hollan would have gotten the coordinates without me. You think that man ever intended on sharing? I should have known not to trust him—I knew it deep down in my gut. That was the whole reason I never told him the location of our base. Things would have been all right, but you messed everything up. You gave Hollan the coordinates, and now I’m finished because of you.”
Footsteps creaked from above, and both of us looked up.
“Shooting me isn’t going to solve anything.” I wanted to keep the tremor from my voice, but it belied my true emotions and shook anyway.
His lip curled in a snarl. “Maybe not, but it’ll sure as hell make me feel better.”
“Darcy?” My aunt’s voice filtered through the walls. “Who are you talking to?”
Devlin glared at me, daring me to say something.
“No one,” I called back. “It’s just the radio.”
Apparently satisfied with my answer, he got to his feet, pushing the chair back behind him. The legs scraped across the floor with a screech that made me wince.
I glanced around, frantic, trying to see something I could use as a weapon. Was there anything in the grocery bags I’d dropped? The knife block was positioned on the countertop on the other side of the room. There wasn’t much beside me, except the toaster and a chopping block, and I didn’t think either of those was going to hold up much against a gun.
But I could sense my aunt making her way down from upstairs. After growing up in this house, I could track every creak and know exactly where the other person’s feet were landing. She was getting closer, approaching the kitchen down the hallway, and I couldn’t have her coming in here.
“Aunt Sarah, run!” I screamed. It was a pathetic attempt, but I’d had to do something. I grabbed the toaster from the counter and yanked, pulling the cord out of the wall, and threw it at Devlin. He lifted his arm to shield his face, but he moved too late and the item smacked him in the face.
I didn’t wait to see how effective my attack had been. Instead, I ran for the back door, praying Sarah would have run for the front of the house. But as I reached the door and yanked on the handle, it didn’t budge. Tears filled my eyes. Shit, it was locked. I stared for the key, frantically trying to spot it. There used to be one on the windowsill. But Devlin was already recovering, twisting to face me, swinging the gun around—
The kitchen door flung open, and before I knew what was happening, shots fired. I screamed, first as Devlin was hit in the gut by a bullet, and then again as he swung back around and fired in return.
I stared in horror as Aunt Sarah stood in the open doorway, brandishing a gun I hadn’t seen before. But the gun wasn’t the cause of my dismay. No, it was the circle of red that appeared on her chest, and the way she stared down at the wound in shock.
“Aunt Sarah!” My voice was a scream that would seem to echo through the house for months to come, like that of a ghost unable to rest.
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My scream became a howl as she dropped to the floor, her hand against her chest. Bright red blood suddenly appeared between her slender fingers, and she glanced down, as though surprised at where it had come from. I rushed over and slid to the floor beside her. I lifted her head into my lap and then fumbled frantically for my phone. Where had I left it? My mind was a blur, but I knew I needed to call an ambulance.
“I have to call nine-one-one.” I tried to rise, but her other hand caught my wrist.
“I’m sorry, Darcy.”
“No, no.” Her face blurred through my tears. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. I’m the one who should be sorry. I only ever caused you trouble.”
She shook her head, but I could see she was weakening, her eyes slipping shut. “I’m sorry ... I’m not going to be around for you.” Her voice broke, and her eyes rolled in her head.
Grief and fear ricocheted through me.
“No, you can’t die! You can’t. Just hold on. I’ll get help.” But her fingers around my wrist tightened, and it was enough to tell me that she didn’t want me to leave her. She didn’t want to die alone.
“No,” I sobbed, not wanting to believe what was happening, wanting to push it all away, as though it was all a bad dream. “I love you, Aunt Sarah. Please don’t go. Don’t leave me. I love you so much, and I never told you enough. Please ...” I leaned over her, pressing my forehead against the hand covering the gunshot wound.
But her eyes slipped shut and a breath escaped her throat, long and rasping.
Her chest didn’t rise again.
A scream of fury bubbled up inside me, and I gave voice to it, screeching my rage and grief, over and over. I snatched up the gun Sarah had been holding and went to where Devlin was lying on the floor. Teeth gritted, hatred and sorrow filling my soul in equal measures, I pointed the gun and squeezed the trigger, again, and again. Bang, bang, bang. His body jerked with each shot, until I’d emptied the clip into his body.
All the strength went from me, and I crumpled to the floor between the two dead bodies, and wailed my heartbroken grief helplessly into my hands.
Chapter Twenty-three
I wasn’t completely sure what happened after.
Alex and Kingsley found me hunched over my aunt’s body, but I couldn’t have said how long I’d been kneeling there. I was barely aware of cops and flashing lights, and paramedics, and people asking me questions I was too numb to answer.
Words were thrown around like break in and shooting. I didn’t know how much of this the guys would be able to make vanish, but right then I didn’t care. I just wanted everything to go away, including myself.
When the police eventually gave up for the time being, perhaps seeing I was in shock, and promising to come back at a later date, I climbed the stairs to my aunt’s room and curled up on her bed. The black hole that had appeared inside me when my father was shot had expanded, and it felt as though it would continue to expand until it swallowed me whole. I was utterly alone now. I had no one.
Over the next few days, Alex and Kingsley tried to talk to me, bringing me food that remained untouched, and drinks I barely managed sips of, and only because they practically forced me. I was unwashed and probably stank, but I didn’t even care. I couldn’t see any point in going on when everyone I ever cared about ended up dead. It was all so utterly pointless.
Isaac came back with Clay and Lorcan. I was sleeping and woke to him crouching beside the bed, looking at me in concern.
“Hey, love.” His voice was softer than I’d ever heard before. “I’m so sorry about your aunt.”
Something had been festering inside me since her death, and now Isaac was here, I could let it out.
“You could have killed him.” They were the first words I’d spoken in days, and my voice came out as a raspy croak.
His eyebrows pulled together. “What?”
“You could have killed Devlin, but you cared for him, despite what he did. So he came after me, and he killed my aunt. This is your fault. My aunt dying is your fault.”
Pain traversed his features. “No, love. That’s not how it was at all.”
I nodded. “Yes, it was. You had the chance to kill him, and you didn’t. All I see when I look at any of you is that we all got my aunt killed. I’ll never forgive myself for what I did, opening my mouth and starting this whole thing, and I’ll never forgive you, either.”
He shook his head. “You don’t mean that.”
“Yes, I do. I want you gone. You, Clay, Alex, Kingsley, and Lorcan. I don’t want any part of this anymore. You need to go. Go and continue with whatever your jobs need you to do now. I’m no longer involved.”
He stared at me, his green eyes filled with pain. “We’re not just going to leave you.”
“I said go!”
“You can’t just check out on us, love. Not like this.”
“Yes, I can. And if you don’t go, I’ll call the cops and tell them you’re intruding. This isn’t your house. I don’t want you here. Any of you.”
The words hurt to say. They cut me deep, slicing at my soul with every syllable. But I relished the pain. That was all I wanted to feel now. I deserved to hurt.
Abruptly, Isaac rose to his feet. “I’m going to get the others.”
I rolled over in bed, facing the wall. “Don’t bother.”
I heard the swish of the bottom of the door against the carpet as it opened and closed, and then I was alone again, but not for long.
Kingsley came to me next, his deep voice, his weight depressing the mattress as he sat next to me. “This is grief, Darcy. It’s normal to be feeling this way. You need to give yourself time.”
“So give me time,” I told him. “Leave me alone.”
But they didn’t.
One by one, they sat by my bedside, trying to get through to me, but I was dead inside.
Finally, they left me in peace, but only for long enough to allow me to get some sleep, and then they returned, continuing to try to coax me from the dark pit I’d sunk into.
Nothing worked.
I pushed them away, over and over again. I told them to leave me, I shouted at them, and screamed, and threw whatever I could get my hands on, which often ended up being the glasses of water or whatever plates of food they’d brought me. I started this whole thing as their prisoner in a cellar, with them providing me with what I needed to survive, and now the same thing was happening again, only this time I’d made myself the prisoner.
I lost track of the days. I either slept endlessly, or lay awake, staring at the walls or ceiling, floating through the vast black sea of my grief.
ONE MORNING, SOMETHING changed.
Out of my darkness, I noticed the light.
It was a shaft of hazy, early morning light, in a streak across my aunt’s bed. It had landed on my bare toes and warmed my skin, and, instead of pulling my legs into my body and removing myself from its warmth, I stretched out farther and pushed more of my skin into the light.
The guys hadn’t left me.
I was a mess. I had filthy hair, skin, and could barely remember the last time I’d brushed my teeth. I’d pushed them away and screamed at them and thrown things, and been the worst person imaginable, but still they’d remained.
I didn’t know what had gone on in their lives since I’d checked out. I hadn’t asked about the boys or any of the other bases, and for the first time since my aunt had died, I actually started to wonder. I started to care.
I was still staring at the shaft of light when the door opened and Clay walked in. He carried a plate with a couple of slices of toast, and in his other hand was a glass of juice. They’d stopped bringing me mugs of hot drinks when they realized how often I was going to throw them. Even though they’d done their best to clean up after me, the carpet would probably forever hold the stains from all those mugs of coffee.
He set the toast and juice onto the bedside table and cast me an anxious glance.
My lips twitched, and m
y gaze met his glance briefly, before shifting away. I was embarrassed. Embarrassed at how I looked and smelled, and embarrassed at how I’d behaved toward them.
He must have noticed the change in me, as, instead of hurrying out and hoping I didn’t fling the toast at him, he stayed.
“How you feeling, sugar?”
I shrugged. “I ... I ...” My words caught like a tickle in the back of my throat during a situation where you weren’t supposed to cough. “I’m not sure yet. How long has it been?”
“How long has—” he started to say, and then his sentence drifted off as he understood what I was asking. “Oh, you mean, how long has it been since ...”
He clearly didn’t want to say the words, perhaps worrying that speaking out loud about my aunt dying would set me back again.
“Two weeks,” he said instead. “Almost three.”
“Three weeks?”
I could hardly believe it. It hadn’t felt like that long, yet at the same time it had felt like a lifetime. I couldn’t continue like this. I knew something had to change.
I glanced over at the juice and toast Clay had brought me and reached out for it. A flicker of a smile crossed his face, and he snatched the glass up for me, pushing it into my hands. Seeing how pleased he was that I was willingly going to eat and drink, a little ball of something I once recognized as happiness swelled inside my chest. And I realized I wanted to make him happy. It was such a small thing, but I’d connected to him again.
Alternating sips of orange juice between nibbles of the toast, I ate self-consciously, but without telling Clay to go away.
It was the first full meal I’d eaten in weeks, and I wasn’t sure how my stomach was going to react to it.
“I’ll go and tell the others you’re feeling better.” Clay put his hand on the sheets, above my thigh. “Everyone’s been worried sick about you.”
I glanced down at my hands. “Sorry,” I said, my voice a hoarse whisper, my throat suddenly choked with tears again.
“Hey, no, it’s okay.” He took my hand and squeezed it tight. “We get it. We just care, that’s all.”
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