Beyond The Mask (The Beyond Book 1)

by Hunter, Aubrianna

  Realizing the trip would cost him a day, he decided to stay and watch over blondie locks instead. Turning, he strode back down the sidewalk and again disappeared into the hedge.

  Chapter Nine

  Derek awoke with a groan. Rolling himself a pain exploded in his side, sending waves of nausea coursing through his brain as bile arose in his throat. Closing his eyes tightly, he fought the urge to hurl and pulled himself onto all fours.

  He breathed slowly and deeply for a moment. Each breath becoming easier, his head slowly overcame his instincts. Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, he pulled himself to his feet.

  Though it was pitch black out, light from beyond filtered into his current location. To either side a tall brick wall rose several stories above him from the asphalt. Beside him bags of trash littered the ground, overflow from a nearby dumpster. He recognized that dumpster.

  Spinning, Derek turned to face the street beyond the alley he inhabited. He was home, or rather right outside it. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he leaned forward and ran down the alley, rounding the corner to pull wide the glass entry door.

  Painfully taking the stairs by twos and threes he came to the door of his apartment. Jade was here. She had to be. Reaching into the pocket of his costume he pulled forth his keys. Fumbling with them a moment he finally managed to slide the appropriate one into the lock.

  Turning the key brought the telltale “snick,” releasing its inner mechanism. He shoved the door open and was greeted by a familiar scent. Her scent. With a sigh of relief he strode into the apartment.

  “Jade?”

  No response came, and again something rose up in his stomach. Derek began to feel the fear again. He moved deeper into their home and turned down the hall.

  “Jade?” This time he shouted the question.

  Nothing forthcoming he walked into the meager bedroom and bathroom beyond. The corners of the rooms grew dimmer. His heart pounded. Something inside him crawled into knots in his stomach. Jade had not yet been home.

  Out there in the night, somewhere, Jade was alone. Facing all the threats that came with traversing the darkness, she wandered the night. With no one to protect her, she had miles to go, and somehow Derek had made a mess of things and left her alone. He needed to find her. Had to find her.

  Then a moment of clarity arrived like a beacon that pulled at his soul. Reaching deep into his pocket he extracted the phone. Pulling up his contacts, he selected Jade and pressed it hard to his ear, listening. Seconds passed, and Derek realized it was the first time he had ever called her on it. She called him often, but not the other way around. He preferred looking into her eyes when they talked.

  The phone began to ring. Then it rang again, and yet again, before finally going to her voicemail.

  “It’s Jade, bitches, spit it out,” said the recording, followed abruptly by a beep.

  He shut the phone, the beacon of light vanishing, to be replaced once again by gnawing fear.

  Without so much as locking the door, Derek sprinted from the apartment, pulling the door closed behind him. Taking the flights of stairs in a step or two he rushed out into the night, wincing with every jarring step.

  Though usually he would take the alleys, the safer routes where less were apt to see you, Jade would not do the same. Something about the narrow, darkened passageways set her nerves to tingling, and as such Derek knew she would stick to the best-lit streets available.

  He began running at first, glancing down the intersections and adjoining roads and alleys. Twice he was forced to turn back to get a second look, his mind showing him Jade where she was not. After the second instance he decided it better to walk briskly, allowing him more time to see down the other streets and alleys.

  Each step was driven by both fear for Jade and feeling he had wronged her. Though the streetlights above each stared down at him, mocking his feeble existence, he carried on. Even when the buildings loomed over him, each threatening to tumble down upon him, he continued to search. For hours he sought Jade, keeping only steps ahead of the darkness that sought him. Fruitless was his search when morning came, and with it yet another turn.

  * * * * *

  A foggy feeling floated through Jade, a sensation not unlike waking up from a daydream in the middle of school. She looked around, trying to recall where she was, a sense of calm washing through her as she realized she was at home in her apartment. She must have dozed off on the sofa.

  What a weird dream. She reached her arms high above her head, stretching every muscle down through her toes, before she stood and tried to shake off the last vestiges of sleep.

  She glanced at the clock, it was just after three, the sunlight streaming through the front window told her it was mid-afternoon rather than the middle of the night. She padded down the hallway toward the bedroom. Time for a quick shower and some food before she got ready for work.

  It was only as she felt the satin of the skirt swoosh around her legs that she glanced down, seeing a purple gown. A trickle of unease quickly flared into sheer panic, a warm tingly sensation that blanketed her, starting at her head and rampaging down through her stomach and into her toes, making her legs stop, feeling a little like lead. She stood there in the hallway, gasping for breath as she remembered that her dream wasn't... it had all been real.

  "Derek," she shouted, already knowing he wouldn't answer. He wasn't there. If he'd come home he would have woken her up. That logical thought somehow didn't translate to her feet, as she began running down the hall into the bedroom, still crying his name. She looked in the master bathroom, trying to hear any sounds over the rushing noise in her ears.

  Nothing. He wasn't home yet. But she had already known that. Sitting on the bed, she tried to calm her thoughts, to compose some sort of a plan. First things first, she needed to get out of this dress. Then she could go to a neighbor’s house and ask to borrow a phone. If she didn't look like a crazy person in huge purple dress they might let her into their apartment to make the call.

  She glanced down at the gown. She had thought it so pretty, the night so magical, every piece a fairytale made real. Wonderful costumes, a gorgeous mansion, chandeliers, and dancing... then her beautiful dream turned into her worst nightmare. She headed to the closet, absently tugging at the strings corseting her back. She reached in to grab her favorite T-shirt, hoping the sunny yellow color and soft fabric would offer some comfort while she tried to find Derek.

  She missed with her first grab, and her second. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she steadied her shaking hand and reached again to pull the shirt off the hanger.

  Nothing.

  This time she grabbed in slow motion, expecting to feel the touch of fabric against her fingertips, the hanger swinging away from her grasp as the shirt slipped off the corners. Her hand got closer, right to the edge of the hanger, only to... pass through it?

  Convinced now that her eyes were playing tricks on her, no doubt she had been drugged at the party, she tried once again.

  This time, when her hand went through the shirt and hanger, without even so much as causing a stir, she gasped, jumping back as if she'd been burned.

  What the fuck!

  Her eyes scanned the room, quickly searching for the camera's that had to be hiding in the room. The only explanation was that someone was playing a hideous joke on her. Something, anything, to make sense of the last twenty-four hours.

  She reached again, grabbing for a different shirt, moving down the rack in the closet trying to grab anything.

  Nothing, she could feel nothing. She couldn't even cause a sway in the items hanging in front of her.

  In a panic she grabbed at the closet door and slammed it shut.

  Except it didn't move.

  Her closet remained open, mocking her.

  What was wrong with her? This wasn't possible? Was she still dreaming? She must be. This had to be some sort of a nightmare.

  And if you pinched yourself then you woke up, right? Or was tha
t just a myth?

  Moving her hands together she grabbed and pinched one with the other. But she felt... nothing. Or, a tingling sensation, but no pain. Not like a pinch should feel at all. So she squeezed harder.

  Still nothing.

  She could at least touch herself, not passing through herself like she had the shirt, but there was no real sensation there, just a strange buzzing in the area where her hands touched. Or should touch...

  She was breathing too fast, she could see and feel her chest heaving in and out. Maybe that was the problem, maybe she was having a panic attack and she was going to pass out.

  Because the only other option she could think of wasn't possible. It couldn't be. Because that would make her a ghost. Even if she believed in ghosts, which she didn't, it wasn't possible. To be a ghost she would have to be dead. And she would know if she had died. Wouldn't she?

  Could someone die and not know it?

  That wasn't possible. She needed to see Derek, to find him. He would touch her, tell her this was all a bad dream. He would wake her up. She just needed to find him.

  Sheer terror drove her back down the hallway, through the living room and out the front door.

  If she could just find Derek, everything would be okay.

  Chapter Ten

  Derek’s phone rang loudly, causing him to jump in fright, appearing to be a man scared of his own shadow. Reaching into the uncomfortably tight pocket upon his costume pants, he pulled forth the prepaid phone and flipped it open. Unknown number. He closed it again.

  The sun had crept over the horizon near an hour ago and was already beginning to crest the buildings. Derek clung to the shadows, still relentlessly seeking Jade. His phone already out, he tried her number but to no avail. This time it did not even bother to ring, instead it went straight to her voicemail recording.

  Adding to the relentless weight of the mocking streets around him, now people began to emerge from the dwellings he passed. Forced to share the sidewalk, Derek wished he had bothered to pull on a hoodie, as here, in the street, his costume drew attention whereas the night before it had made him blend.

  People looked at him. Pointed. Some even laughed or stared, but Derek did his best to ignore them. He would not allow them to keep him from Jade.

  Another block passed and then two more and again his phone rang. Happy to have kept it in his hand this time he flipped it open, and there again was the unknown number. Pressing ignore he continued on. This time only seconds passed and again the phone rang. Derek could only bear so much.

  Flipping the phone open without bothering to look at the screen he pressed the button to answer as he pressed the cool plastic hard to his ear.

  “What?”

  “Is this Derek?” a strange male voice asked.

  “What do you want?”

  “Derek?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where are you?” the voice asked, sounding more than a bit demanding.

  “Who is this?” Derek asked, his patience strained.

  “My name is Detective Rodgers, we found your number in Jade’s phone, we need you to come in.”

  They had Jade’s phone. Why would they have Jade’s phone? What had happened to Jade? Was she alright? Why would they have Jade’s phone?

  “Why do you have Jade’s phone?” Derek asked, voicing a question that nagged him.

  “Derek, where are you? We can come and get you.”

  Derek looked to the signs ahead, determining his location. Without thought he read the signs aloud. The voice on the other end of the phone relayed the names while Derek tried to clear his head. Suddenly he felt trapped, contained, afraid.

  “Derek, we have sent someone to come and get you.”

  Across the street a brunette in a vintage purple hooded sweatshirt trod up the street, her head down. It was Jade, it had to be, how many women could own that shirt? Rushing across the street, so overcome with relief he grasped the woman, pulling her into his arms. She screamed, punching and slapping him, thinking herself in danger. Derek released her and she ran from him. The phone in his hand, temporarily forgotten, spoke again.

  “Derek, what the hell is happening?”

  He ignored it. Jade’s phone… They had it. Who were they? He tried to concentrate, but his mind felt muddled. Foggy. The man had said detective. They were the cops. Derek panicked again. Jade was in trouble.

  “Do you have her?” Derek asked, fearing for her. “Is she in trouble?”

  “Yes, Derek, we have her. No, she is not in any trouble.”

  Derek sighed in relief. The world around him echoed his sigh and everything that had once closed in on him now seemed to dissipate.

  “Can I see her?” he asked.

  “First we will have some questions,” the detective replied.

  After that, though the detective continued talking in a calm monotonous voice, Derek had stopped listening. He let his arm, holding the phone, fall limply to his side. A wry grin managed to form upon his lips. Finally he and Jade would be reunited. Although in reality it had only been hours since they had been separated, such were the conditions of that separation, that to Derek, it felt as if weeks had passed. The strain on his emotions had become nearly unbearable. Though he was happy, relieved even, he still felt sick to his stomach from the stress he had endured.

  Reaching up, he ran his fingers through his hair as he watched a patrol car round the corner towards him. Waving his arms he flagged them down and within seconds they pulled up to the curb beside him. Finally.

  Stepping out of the car two uniformed officers came to meet him on the sidewalk, each of them asking his name. One of them then called in on his radio and awaiting no reply they pounced upon him like two bodies with one mind.

  Within seconds Derek’s wrists were bound behind his back, and though he did not resist, they roughly tossed him into the back of the squad car. Derek was confused at the approach, but knowing he would see Jade he cared little. Perhaps it was protocol to cuff all passengers. How would he know? He didn’t write thrillers or mysteries and had little use for the knowledge either way.

  With nothing better to do, Derek rocked soothingly in the back seat of the car counting the city blocks as they passed. Twenty-seven. They pulled up to the curb in front of the police station just as a pair of obvious prostitutes waltzed down the steps to the building, smiling and laughing, before pausing to sneer at the officers in the car with Derek.

  * * * * *

  Gunny, again, sat within the shadows of his cover, hoping to gain a clue as to what had happened to the young woman. A thousand scenarios played out in his head, yet none of them felt true to life. Or death for that matter…

  He could not help but to worry for his pal, wondering if he knew what had become of Jade, wondering if he knew what it was they had faced. Gunny could not help but marvel over the fact that Derek had escaped alive. Sadly though, Jade had entered alive and, well, had exited in another fashion entirely.

  Her’s was a sad situation. One that if, given time, he could help her to understand fully as it was likely Gunny was the only one who really knew the truth of it. Though her condition was not unique, it was rare enough that it was likely she would struggle with the new limitations set upon her if she did not have guidance. It was likely as well that she would soon become desperate, fearful, and more confused.

  Looking across the vacant road to the mansion beyond, he watched as all the shades in the building were drawn simultaneously. Obviously they were on a timer. A pair of guards stepped out into the yard and did a quick sweep to ensure all doors and windows were secure before disappearing behind the building. Gunny doubted anything would happen of interest for the rest of the day and as such he decided upon a further course of action.

  Every agent around the world relied upon outside information. Whether it was satellites, drones, super computers, or an arrested and released drug addict, all information came from somewhere. Marine Recon relied upon several sources to gain the upper hand on thei
r targets.

  Though he was no longer associated with the Corps, he had found a network that gathered and shared intelligence. Realizing the need to locate Jade and explain to her about the frightening alteration that she had been through, he first needed more information.

  Rising from the hedge, Gunny pushed through the side opposite the mansion. Carefully he un-slung the assault rifle from his back and slid it into his shopping cart. Taking a moment to massage the blood back into his ass, he began to push the cart down the sidewalk, careful to wobble a bit here and stumble there. A good disguise was more body language than material.

  * * * * *

  When the panic receded, Jade took a moment to look at her surroundings. Though she'd left the house in search of Derek, she'd had no clear destination in mind, so she was a little surprised to see that she was standing outside The Beyond. A quick glance at the sky told her it was still too early in the day for the club to be open, but at least it gave her a plan for later. She would come back here in a while.

  Now that she had stopped running, she started thinking. Could she be dead? Was it even possible? Maybe she had merely imagined her hands gliding through the shirt and hanger.

  Sure. Right. Just like she'd imagined that the closet door hadn't slammed when she had clearly slammed it. Okay, so she was some sort of... something. A ghost probably. But that would mean she was dead. She didn't feel dead.

  Of course, how would she know what dead felt like? She'd never been dead before. Laughing a little at her own little joke, she was pleased to find that even if she were dead she had retained her sense of humor. That thought brought about another little giggle... ghosts with a sense of humor... who'da thought!

  Shaking her head to stop the downward spiral she was taking, the one that led straight to crazy town, she sat down on the steps leading to The Beyond to think.