by Eden Ashley
Davey hurriedly switched gears. Interacting with an excited five-year old versus a keen-witted sage required an entirely different mindset. “You were?” From the edge of her vision, she saw Solomon’s reaction to the phenomenon of Hogan’s dual personalities. No doubt, the old cop had witnessed a lot of things in his lengthy career, but probably nothing quite like this.
“Yes, because if you pinky swear something then you have to do it.”
“That’s right.” Davey poked his Spiderman backpack—a novel accessory and likely a gift from his new guardian—next to them on the bed. “What’s in there?”
Hogan was absolutely delighted she had asked. Throwing his hands up into the air, he reared backward and fell across her lap. “Stories!”
Unable to resist the vulnerability of his exposed sides, Davey dug her fingers into his ribs, sending Hogan into an uncontrollable fit of giggles. “You have to read me stories,” he gasped through his laughter.
“Oh yeah?” she asked, continuing to tickle him.
“Yes!” he shrieked. “You missed bedtime!”
“Okay, okay.” Davey relented. Pulling him close for anther hug, she gave Hogan a final squeeze and kissed his forehead. “Can story time wait a few while I talk to Officer Solomon?”
Hogan blinked at her. After looking at Solomon, he turned back to his sister. “Bogey?”
Solomon blushed a shade of bright red. “Beauregard proved to be a little difficult for him.”
Davey laughed despite herself. “Yeah,” she said to Hogan. “I need to talk to Bogey.”
“Okay, Davey.” He hopped off the bed and took the backpack with him.
“Hey, Monkey,” she called, and Hogan looked back expectantly. “Headphones,” she said pointing to her ears.
Grinning, Hogan nodded. A short while later, he was situated in the corner with music blasting in his ears while he quietly flipped through a book well-above a first grade reading level. The kid was on his best behavior, but they had been apart for too long. Davey couldn’t keep him waiting without feeling guilty, so she didn’t waste any time. “Have you heard from Ethan?”
“Who?”
“It’s fine,” Davey assured him. “Hogan won’t hear us.”
“He’s a great kid.”
“He is,” she agreed and changed the subject. “Do you know where Ethan is?”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about, Ms. Little.”
A chill raked across her skin. “Officer Ethan Remington, your partner.” At Solomon’s continued expression of genuine confusion, a ripple of dread burrowed into the pit of Davey’s stomach.
Solomon shook his head. “I don’t have a partner…haven’t in some years now. And I don’t recognize that name. Are you sure he’s a part of the Harpey Police Force?”
“I’m positive.” Davey looked around. Only one other explanation made sense. They were being watched, and Solomon couldn’t disclose whatever he actually knew. “Okay. We can talk about this later. Did the doctor clear me to check out?”
“Yeah, you’re good to go.” Solomon shoved his hands into his pockets and immediately took them out again. “With your uncle’s record, Social Services has permanently blocked him from custody. I tried but couldn’t reach any next of kin. So, you and the kid are welcome to stay with me for as long as you need to. My wife loves having Hogan around.”
Davey had to test the waters one more time. “Did my friend Lana have any trouble getting him to you?”
Solomon shook his head. “It was a brave thing the two of you did, getting him out of there. And stupid. You were lucky to survive.”
“I know.” Davey looked away. Luck had nothing to do with it. She had survived because of Ethan.
“Hey,” Solomon called softly. He moved to stand next to her bed. “You went through something really rough back there. Surviving has only made you stronger, but what happens next will be even more difficult.”
Leaning over, his eyes drilled into hers. “I’m allowed to pass this on, but once and only once, Davey. Realize that your safety,” he jerked his head in Hogan’s direction, “and his, depend on you heeding this warning. What happened back there—you have to let it go. Ethan Remington doesn’t exist. He never did.”
27
Davey immediately understood the wisdom in heeding Solomon’s warning, but it took much longer to lose faith in ever seeing Ethan again. She couldn’t search for him, but she could hope. Never again might she touch his cool skin or get lost in his stormy eyes, but day or night, she could dream of what had existed between them. In the years passing since those hellish hours of captivity beneath the commander’s sadistic authority, Davey spent a lot of time thinking, meditating, and researching everything she remembered. Careful to always use public computers and anonymous logins, she followed the only breadcrumbs available to her, gradually managing to piece together a small piece of a gigantic puzzle.
Global Cures was easy to find. High profile, powerful, and extremely profitable, the company’s science division was without question leading the way in ground-breaking research in the field of biomechanical engineering. GC’s applications in robotics had pioneered the creation of hybrid prosthetics capable of replacing missing or paralyzed limbs in a manner never achieved before. Their military division hadn’t been realized—or at least its development was not disclosed to the public. Despite this, several soldiers had returned to the battle field even after suffering catastrophic injury because of receiving experimental limbs from GC. Even to a skeptic like Davey, it all sounded pretty amazing.
Unable to dig up anything profound on Commander Zed, aka Ezra Eleazar, she discovered his father, Thaddeus Eleazar was the president and CEO of the multi-billion-dollar company. Another of Thaddeus’s sons, Luke, served as Vice President. Luke resembled neither his father or older brother. His jawline was soft whereas theirs were strong. His eyes were deep set and brown, but their gazes were intensely blue, and his thick shag of blond hair starkly contrasted their dark brown locks. There was only a single trait shared between the CEO and his sons—the monstrous undercurrent beneath perfect poise and the handsomeness of good genetics. The commander had been horribly cruel in his mistreatment of Ethan, claiming his wickedness was only to save Ethan from their father. Davey hadn’t believed him then, but now research suggested that Thaddeus was in fact the devil himself and that Luke hadn’t fallen far from the satanic tree.
With an abundance of persistence, she found another clue in the circular tattoo on Ethan’s skin. After fleeing the cabin to escape Zed’s soldiers and taking refuge in that seedy cash-only hotel, Davey had recognized the symbols inked just beneath his shoulder blade. Only then, she didn’t know exactly from where. But in the time since then, Davey found plenty of opportunity to solve the mystery. With an almost frenetic depth of dedication, she scoured images from books and the internet, trying to match the symbols of Ethan’s tattoo to some sort of printed representation. Eventually, she did. But the truth may as well have been torn from the pages of a science fiction novel.
Alchemy. On the surface, it was a medieval science devoted to the goal of transforming metal into gold. But true alchemists—the purists—set their aims on something much greater than riches. They strove for the cure-all to every human disease…and for immortality.
Understanding this ancient science required patience and a genius level of mathematical skill. So it was a good thing Davey possessed both. During freshmen year, she often retreated into the campus library between classes in order to delve deeper into the secret world of alchemy where scientists hid their discoveries using cryptic symbols and encoded text. By understanding where Ethan came from, she hoped to shed some light onto where he went. By the spring of her sophomore year, she finally deciphered the mystery. As it turned out, Ethan’s tattoo—the transmutation circle—had been the answer all along.
Seth Eleazar had died in a terrible car crash at the age of twenty-two. Using alchemy, the young man’s soul was harvested from the afterlife a
nd tethered to a highly advanced, hybrid based titanium and carbon fiber android. The transmutation circle acted as an anchor, keeping Seth’s soul tied to this realm. Seth’s soul in turn animated the automaton. It must have taken an exponential amount of power to activate the symbol and harness enough energy to bring a soul back from the afterlife. The process was so Frankenstein in nature that Davey could understand why the commander harbored such profound doubts. How could he ever be certain that the spirit of his little brother was what guided the machine? He couldn’t—hence their cycle of escape and capture continued endlessly.
In the end, understanding Ethan’s magical origins did nothing to ease the pain of missing him. Acquiring the knowledge she had was as far down the rabbit hole as Davey could safely go, for fear of endangering the lives of those she loved dearly. Honing her focus onto her studies, Davey achieved perfect grades in all of her classes and even made extra money by offering her services as a tutor to other students who weren’t as disciplined or successful in their coursework. One of Davey’s favorite clients became Lana.
After high school, the two ended up attending the same local university. Their friendship evolved after Lana’s freshmen year when her roommate flunked out, and she asked Davey to move in. It wasn’t long before the two were thick as thieves. As hard as Lana tried, she couldn’t understand the deep river of sadness that flowed through Davey. And Davey couldn’t risk explaining it to her. She had put Lana in enough danger during their senior year at Harpey High. So, as Davey accumulated a record number of speeding tickets that would have made NASCAR proud, neither her best friend or her guardians could wrap their head around the reckless behavior of someone so responsible and level-headed. But Davey had to breathe. And the remote country straightaway several miles outside of town was exactly the place to do it.
At speeds in excess of one hundred miles per hour, the extreme ache in her heart became numb. Adrenaline beat down the everyday longing she wrestled against. Wind rushed over her skin, whirling around her body and stimulating every nerve, challenging her to feel the outside world. It was the only time she truly felt alive. So, Davey received ticket after ticket, amounting a mass of fees that required part-time work to pay the fines. Of course, she realized the only reason her ass hadn’t been hauled into jail had a lot to do with Solomon being her legal guardian. Though they never spoke about it, sometimes Davey thought he knew what darkness ate away her soul.
At least once a month, she yielded to the blue lights in her rearview mirror. Many of the officers recognized her on sight, letting her off with a stern warning and a promise to report her reckless behavior to Solomon. But just as they turned away, a flash of sympathy overshadowed their features, revealing they knew the truth. She and Hogan were orphans after all. Their story hadn’t made the national news, but every town and city within a one-hundred-mile radius knew about the gruesome double murder in the sleepy little town of Harpey, South Carolina. Davey didn’t think she deserved their sympathy. Everything that happened was because of the choices she had made. Since then, she tried to do better and stay out of trouble for the most part. Maybe on some level she hoped that one day, the cop who cited her wouldn’t give a shit about her sad story, or who was her legal guardian. Maybe he would hit her with an outrageous fine, put her in handcuffs, and then take her to county lockup. Davey wondered what that would feel like…wondered if she could care at all.
On a late Sunday afternoon, her masochistic yearnings saw light when she roared past a state trooper perched on the roadside, waiting to meter out a little slip of justice. Immediately cutting her speed, Davey was already pulling over when the cruiser caught up to her sedan. Blinding rays of sun stretched through the windshield and driver side window, drilling through her cheap sunglasses to make her eyes water mercilessly, so she could barely see the trooper leave his patrol car and stride toward her. Between the shadows of the large brimmed hat he wore and the huge aviators wrapped around his face, Davey doubted he noticed the sun was even out.
The trooper circled around her little car, speaking into the radio pinned to his vest and finally came to her window. Davey’s pulse hammered through every second. Within her gut, she somehow knew this time would be different. She had finally found penance.
“License and registration please,” the trooper demanded.
Fumbling to retrieve the correct documents, Davey placed the papers in his outstretched hand. She tilted her head, striving to see the name plate on his uniform, but failed, and nearly scorched both retinas in the attempt.
“Step out of the car, Ms. Little.”
Davey obeyed without argument. She wanted to position her body to give her eyes relief from the sun, but the officer wouldn’t allow it. At least now she could see his name plate. Cassidy. Unfortunately, it was all she could see. Her eyes were watering intensely in the full glaring light.
“Ms. Little, I clocked you doing one hundred and two in a fifty-five miles per hour speed zone. This isn’t the first time you’ve been so reckless. You’ve got over half a dozen other offenses, not including warnings. But it’s the last time you get off easy. Turn around slowly and place your hands behind your back. You’re under arrest.”
Head spinning, Davey swallowed thickly and did exactly as Cassidy asked. But when his cool hands grabbed her wrists and bound them tightly together, her heart slammed against her chest. Her entire body jerked violently, seeking to spin away from his grasp, but Cassidy wasn’t having it. His grip was like steel, and Davey barely moved an inch.
Fighting to find her voice, she closed her eyes and drew several deep breaths into her starved lungs. “Please let me see you,” she said.
“Stay where you are, Ms. Little.”
Though every muscle in her body argued against it, she remained absolutely still. “Ethan,” she panted as the metal shackles clinked into place. She found herself unable to catch her breath. “Ethan, is it you?”
There was a lengthy pause before Cassidy spoke. “I am Officer Ethan Cassidy.”
Davey’s legs buckled, and she would have crumpled to ground, but Ethan’s hands shot out, taking a firm hold of her waist to halt her descent, and allowing her to collapse into him. He steadied Davey, holding her close until she had recovered and then eased her forward, placing her so she faced away from the sun. At last she could see him. Cassidy slowly removed the mirrored sunglasses, and Davey couldn’t stop the tears. It truly was him.
But he was different. The more prominent cheekbones were quite noticeable. Instead of dark brown, his hair was jet black, thicker, and favored a slightly longer style over the fresh recruit high fade he sported before. But it was him. It was Ethan. Davey could never forget his touch or the feeling she got whenever she looked into his stormy grey eyes. Only now those eyes were light blue.
“Ethan, do you know me?” From the distant gaze in his expression, she already knew the answer to the question, but had to ask anyway.
He nodded. “You are Daveigh Little. Formerly of Six Burnt Pine Lane. Following the deaths of Brady and Tina Little, you live with retired Sergeant Beauregard Solomon, who is now the legal guardian of you and your younger brother Hogan Little.”
Davey bit back the sob that burbled to her lips. “Yes,” she said, nodding unnecessarily as she blinked rapidly to clear her vision. “But what else, Ethan? Try to remember us. You have to.”
Reaching into his pocket, Ethan retrieved a tiny penlight and shined the beam into each of her eyes. “Are you under the influence of any controlled substances? Tell me now so I can try to make things go easier for you.”
“Dammit, Ethan. No! I am not on drugs. We met nearly three years ago. You were still a cop, but you weren’t Cassidy. You were Remington and you saved my life—more than once. You once risked everything for me.”
“I am not who you think I am, Davey Little.” Taking her by the elbow, he began leading her back to the squad car. “I will arrange for a tow truck for your vehicle.”
“What did they do to you?” Davey
whispered as she stumbled along next to him, barely able to register the words that were coming out of his mouth. Ethan clearly did not remember her. But Davey realized she should not have been surprised. Global Cures had never let Ethan keep his memories.
After guiding her into the backseat and making sure she didn’t bump her head, Ethan closed the door with a resounding thud. Davey jumped, startled by a sudden thought. He called me Davey.
It wasn’t hopeless. Straightening as much as the awkward handcuffs would allow, she launched another effort to reach him. “There is a tattoo on your left shoulder that you don’t remember getting,” Davey said, hoping the scientists who created Ethan hadn’t worked out any glitches that might get him to believe in her. “There is a lot about your past you don’t remember and what memories you do have are jumbled and out of order. Sometimes you think you remember something, only to later find out that what you remembered never actually happened. You probably have nightmares of dying in a car crash all the time.”
Ethan slammed on the brakes, halting the rest of Davey’s plea as her neck dealt with the sudden inertia. Through the rearview mirror, his icy gaze watched her. Then he threw open his door and exited the patrol car in one tense movement. Pulling her from the backseat, Ethan placed her against the side of the car and moved so that less than an inch separated their bodies.
“How did you know?”
Lifting her chin, Davey met his stormy eyes without flinching, savoring the heat of his breath against her skin. “I’ve already told you.”
“That’s impossible. I don’t know you.”
“But you do.”
“I don’t,” he practically spat.
Blinking slowly, she inhaled deeply. “Then why did you call me Davey?”
Ethan took a step back. His eyes widened slightly and his jaw slackened. Shaking his head, he turned away. “I don’t know.”
“Then pinky swear it,” she said.
His shoulders went rigid. “What?” he asked but didn’t look at her.
