“If you want my help, we go to the Elders first.”
“No. They can’t know about this. Not until she’s safe.”
I take a deep breath and close my eyes for a moment, attempting to calm myself before I say or do something I’ll regret. The fucking poster boy for the Elites sets his sights on me, wanting to take me under his wing, and I actually buy his bullshit. Of course it wasn’t real. Of course it was never about me or my abilities. It was always about him and how he could use me to get what he needed.
Typical fucking man.
“I won’t throw away my chance at becoming an Elite. I feel for you and I want to help, but I won’t risk it.”
“Fuck, Whisper!” His fist connects with the dash, making the entire console shake. “You’re my only chance at getting her out of there. It needs to happen now. There are dozens of holding houses, in dozens of cities, but that guy back there works at Camilla’s. I need to get her out before they ship her off somewhere I can’t follow. She’s already been kept there longer than most.”
“No. Getting into the Elite program-”
“You’re never going to be an Elite.”
His words hit me like a blow to the gut. My body turns to ice as I fully grasp what’s happening.
“What are you saying?” I ask the question, but I already know what’s coming. I’m about to be blackmailed.
“I didn’t want to do this. I swear I didn’t. But you’re not giving me any choice. If you won’t help me, I will make sure you never step foot on the Solars again.” He’s looking right at me, a wild expression on his face. I can see a tremble in the hand that still grips the wheel. “I will speak to the Elders, and make sure they never look twice at you again. Your career will be over.”
I want to break his fucking nose. My right hand closes into a fist, and I can almost hear that satisfying crunch of bone and cartilage. Who the fuck does he think he is? But even as the rage brings searing heat back to my veins, I know damn well he can do exactly what he is threatening. He can ruin me, just like that.
“Fuck you.”
“Just do what I’m asking. Just do it. When she’s safe, I swear on her life I’ll sign off on your promotion. You’ll be an Elite, and no one will ever know about this. I swear.”
“You expect me to believe anything you say?” I bite my tongue, literally. He’s got me by the balls, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it. I want to talk to Damon, but I already know what he would say. He would only want me to stay safe. He’d tell me to walk away now and forget about our plans. My plans.
Go home, Damon. I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.
I’m not leaving you. What’s going on?
I’ll talk to you later. Everything is fine. There’s nothing more you can do, just meet me at home.
Lying to him makes me feel like shit. There’s nothing he could say or do to help this mess, and putting him in danger would only make it worse. I can’t go back. Charles made sure of that. Without the Protectors, I’m nothing. No one. What was the point of surviving my childhood, what was the point of fighting through the Academy, if it all falls apart now?
One job. Go undercover and get pushed around a little. Nothing I haven’t been through before. I save the girl, which is a pretty decent goal, and then Gideon goes to bat for me. Simple. Win-win. When the papers are signed and the deal’s done, I’ll break his fucking nose.
That thought makes me smile, as the panic fades away. I look at Gideon, and he jumps a little at what I’m sure is not a sane expression on my face.
“It’s a deal.”
His eyes widen in surprise as his body stiffens. If he expected me to argue and whine about it, he doesn’t know a damn thing about me.
I make sure the screen is still in place on my neck before I slip out of the truck. Heading back the way I came, I let the cluster-fuck of emotions I just went through bubble to the surface until it shows on my face. Tears would be handy right about now, but I ran out of those a lifetime ago.
The rebellious girl that ran out of the bar is having second thoughts, and she’s heading back to the arms of the last person who showed her some kindness.
Rescue
Flying away from Whisper’s location is like tearing off a limb. It’s not right. I shouldn’t go. But she made her request crystal clear; there’s nothing more I can do. I could ignore her orders and stay anyway. It’s a tempting thought, but I don’t adjust my course as I fly toward our home on my own.
Landing at my destination, I have to shift to my human form to work the door. Once inside, I start the easy shift back to my panther. It’s the body I’m most comfortable in, yet I don’t feel like shifting now. I stay in my human form, even though there’s no reason for it without Whisper nearby. I do a partial shift instead, changing my simple pants into jeans and a black t-shirt, just because I can.
A heavy emotion settles in my gut. She wanted me gone. She wanted me to go home without her, while she stayed out on her own with Gideon. I know my Whisper. I know she likes to play with certain men and women that she finds attractive. I also know she finds Gideon particularly attractive, though I don’t see what’s so special about him.
I thought she would have no need for that anymore. I thought I would be enough for her now.
I feel... angry. Angry at Whisper. Angry at myself for thinking what happened last night meant something more.
I don’t have to stay here and wait for her. I don’t have to do everything she asks as if she holds some physical power over my body. The thought is almost frightening, but it’s also very, very empowering.
I head out into the drizzly night, lock the door behind me, and shove the key into my pocket.
As I walk down the street of our neighborhood, I’m not at all bothered by the frail rain beginning to soak through my clothes. The dark of the evening allows me a glimpse into the lives of the people Whisp calls neighbors. I’ve never really paid any attention to them. Through open curtains, the lights from their houses show me young couples and busy families. There’s also the occasional older pair, nearing the end of their expected lifespan.
I’m not thinking about anything in particular, just walking and taking it in. My life has been very different from the years these people have lived and grown. I’ve never given it much thought, or even had any opinions about it one way or another.
Nearly five years ago, I was born at BioSol Labs. A genetically modified animal created to bond with a human and use their experiences and education to shape my own personality. I grew fast, matching my Whisper, my bondmate, in biological age after about six months. I don’t have my own past. I’ve never considered what my future might be. I’ve only ever cared about her.
I’m lost in thought and my legs are growing tired when I find myself deep inside the commercial zone that sits north of our house. It’s bright and busy with vehicles and people on foot. The wet night isn’t stopping them either, though they take cover under hoods and umbrellas. All of them have somewhere to be. All of them have some important task that needs their attention.
I slide away from the endless trickle of bodies, stepping into the dark mouth of a narrow alley. The scent of human waste and rotting food is unpleasant even with this weak nose, but I ignore it. My skin is beginning to prickle with the cold, but it’s not enough to make me want to shift to a more weatherproof form.
I want to observe, unseen. I want to see the expressions on their faces as they walk alone. I want to see their body language as they move together in pairs. It’s fascinating. Like I’m seeing people for the first time, even though I’ve spent my life among them.
A shuffle of paper and the clink of glass draws my attention from the street to the darkness behind me. I step farther into it, letting my eyes adjust. The brick walls of the buildings lead to a dead end, barricaded with more brick. Garbage dumpsters account for the smell in the air, as even more trash litters the cracking pavement and gathers in sopping heaps at the edges.
It’
s disgusting. I turn to leave, but the faint sound of movement catches my attention again. I turn to my right, my eyes focusing on a pile of paper and cloth tucked in a corner where dumpster meets cold brick. A pair of eyes stare back at me from the heap. Small, human eyes.
I crouch low, attempting to appear smaller so I don’t threaten whatever this is.
“Please,” a small voice drifts out from the heap. “Don’t tell them I’m here.”
Something in my chest pinches as I stare back at the pleading, blue eyes. It takes me a few breaths before I remember that I can talk to this human, this child. I can talk to it and be understood. I’ve never talked to anyone but Whisper.
“Who are you hiding from?” I speak in a voice that is as soft and low as I can make it.
“Nobody.” The immediate reply is firm and confident, and I smile at the way his small voice takes on a slightly deeper tone. “I’m not afraid of nobody. I just don’t want the Enforcers to find me here. I searched all day for this spot.”
“Where do you live?”
“Nowhere.”
Homeless people. It’s a common enough sight here on the ground. So common, they blend into the background like stray cats and hookers. Just another thing I never gave any thought to. I search my memories, trying to find a thread of something that I can use.
Fentondale. Whisp and I were there on a job. A pimp that liked to get a little too rough. I cringe now, as I realize a little more fully what that might have meant. He took us on quite a chase around the city. Including a detour through the yard of a huge, white-sided home for orphaned children.
“Fenton House,” I say the name I recall from the sign over the door. “Do you know that place?”
The boy’s eyes light up, and he leans out from under his flimsy, protective pile of other peoples trash. “Sure!” He crawls out a little farther, and I’m taken aback by just how small he really is. “Dustin said he was going there. His aunt was taking him when she couldn’t keep him no more. He said it was so big, everyone got their own bed!”
“Why don’t you go there?”
“Oh, I don’t have an aunt.”
“You could take a bus or a train.”
He shakes his head. His mop of dark, wet hair spraying water like a wet dog. “They don’t let kids like me ride.”
I should go find Whisper. I can’t leave this child, but I also don’t know what to do with him. She would be able to tell me... I don’t need her to tell me what to do. I can help this boy on my own.
“Have you ever met an Agent?”
His eyes widen to saucers at the mention of Whisper’s rank. “No, sir.” He answers, as if I might be referring to myself as the Agent.
“What about a Shifter?”
He shakes his head again, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tries to work out what I’m getting around to.
“Can you keep a secret?” I wonder if he even has the ability to understand the importance of the secret I’m referring to.
He nods, but his eyes are growing wary now. I don’t want to think this through enough to start worrying about the danger I’m putting myself in by exposing what I’ve done. I just shift.
The boy gasps with surprise, scurrying back to the safety of his corner just for a moment. His curiosity wins out, and he creeps forward inch by inch until he can reach out and run his hands over the yellow fur of my retriever. His grin is infectious, and my tongue lolls out in a dog’s laugh.
I step back from him, returning to my human form slowly so he can see the transition in detail.
“That was awesome!” His voice pitches so high he almost squeaks. Any fear he felt is gone. He looks around and out toward the road. “I thought Shifter’s couldn’t copy humans?”
“We aren’t allowed. I want to help you, but I’ll need you to keep this a secret. Just between us. Can you do that?”
He’s nodding before I’ve even finished asking the question. “Yes. I won’t tell anyone. Ever.” He makes a crossing motion over his chest as if that might prove his sincerity. It’s good enough for me.
“I can take you to Fenton House. Would you like that?”
His eyes light up. “I would, sir.”
“Okay. I’m going to shift into something bigger, so you can ride. Are you afraid of heights?”
He shakes his head. I hope this isn’t going to scare him off. My phoenix is big, but not built for carrying even a small passenger. But if I can create one form from my imagination, there’s no reason I can’t create another.
I concentrate on the image I have in mind. A hybrid of sorts. The perfect solution for getting him to the next city. My body obeys, and I start twisting into a larger version of my panther. My head and neck form out of the image of my phoenix, as thick, feathered wings stretch out from behind my shoulder blades. I move my tail, confirming it’s avian and not feline. This combo should be able to fly, I hope.
When it’s done, I look down at the boy. He’s standing now, with nothing but awe plastered on his smiling face. I crouch down, offering him my back, and he climbs right on. I lope out of the alley, needing more space to spread my wings. Our appearance causes more than a few startled screams and slammed breaks, but I don’t linger to draw any more attention.
I take off as gently as I can, staying level and steady just above the city lights. It’s going to be a long flight, but his small body is tucked securely into my fur and feathers. He’s safe and warm for what might be the first time in his short life.
For the first time in my life, which I realize has probably been even shorter than his, I feel like I might be doing something truly meaningful.
A dull pain sears behind my eyes as light filters through my lids. This is the second time I’ve been unconscious in the last week, but this time there’s no naked Damon to pick me up from the ground. There’s no one at all, as I pull myself up and take stock of the six by six room, empty save for the dirty mattress that I’ve been deposited on.
The chloroform was serious overkill, considering I was planning to go with him willingly. Not that I got the chance to tell him that. His buddy jumped me from behind the moment I fell into his arms with my sad story about not being allowed to return home. It took a lot of self-control not to defend myself, and to breathe deep to ensure the drug worked despite my Medic. At least the only injury I seem to have sustained is a splitting headache that will pass in a moment.
This better be the same place Camilla is being held. I’m still not clear on the details of how Gideon could be so sure. The fact remains that I need to do this job if I’m going to get promoted. That’s all that matters right now. If I have to get a little dirty, so be it.
I’m okay, Damon, I’ll be home as soon as I can.
I don’t know where I am or how long I’ve been here, but I know he can’t hear me. I can’t describe it, but I can feel when he’s out of range of our Link implants. It’s kind of like how silence is too loud sometimes. Not exactly like that, but almost.
There’s no sign of surveillance in the room. Good thing, because I’m most likely awake long before they would have expected the drug to wear off. I sit, focusing on breathing and keeping calm. Without windows or a clock, time is abstract and irrelevant. I sink inside myself.
The door swings open, and I nearly lunge at the man who enters before I catch myself and cower in the corner instead. He’s about 5’7’’, stocky and a little soft around the middle. His head is shaved, though he has a well-kept coppery beard that rests against his chest. He brings the distinct scent of bacon with him, and my stomach reacts with a growl.
“Good morning, little mouse,” he says with a friendly voice and a hint of laughter. “Are you hungry?”
I flash him a hopeful look before dropping my eyes back to the floor and tucking a little tighter into the corner. He laughs, but it’s not a sinister sound. I don’t get the feeling he means me any harm. Other than holding me captive, of course.
“Come on, breakfast is in the kitchen.”
Wit
h that statement he turns and walks back through the door, leaving it open in a clear invitation for me to follow. My curiosity about this place is starting to peak, but I have to stay in character. I’m just a pampered runaway regretting my recent life choices.
I stand, finding my legs to be a bit unsteady at first. I go with it and hold the door frame for support as I timidly follow him through.
Outside my little room is a narrow hallway, leading past a dirty little bathroom and into a sitting room. It’s sparsely furnished, and the walls look like they’ve been needing a fresh coat of paint for more than a few years. Dust covers the odd shelf or painting that hangs on the walls. Dirt and garbage collect in the corners, while the center of the floor is worn through the finish. Thick curtains are drawn across the single window, and the door is locked with a heavy metal bar. This house is clearly not anyone’s home.
The room is empty, but low voices guide me around a corner and into a dimly lit kitchen. The age and misuse of the place is even more obvious in here, as the countertops have a visible sag and the stove looks like it hasn’t cooked a meal in months. I’m pretty sure I see a long tail flick out from beneath it before disappearing again. I turn my attention to the oval table at the far end of the room, where the man who opened my door sits with two other men and three young women.
The girls are looking at me, each of their faces telling a different story. One, a thin little thing with long pale hair and crystal blue eyes only catches my gaze for a moment before lowering her eyes to the plate of bacon in front of her. Another, with short-cropped chestnut curls and eyes to match holds my gaze for a little longer, but she too looks down at her food without a word.
The third sits tall with her shoulders squared. She looks back at me with obvious challenge in her pale green eyes. Even if I hadn’t just committed her face to memory, I would know she was Gideon’s family with one glance. Her auburn hair is shoulder length, and it’s clean and tidy compared to the other two girls. She’s even wearing a pair of jeans and a worn t-shirt, while the others are dressed in those gauzy slips I’d be happy never seeing again.
Whisper in the Dark Page 10
