by Zoe Arden
"That's what you've been thinking?" I yelled. "After everything that's happened, that's the best theory you've come up with?"
"It made sense at the time it happened," he said defensively.
I shook my head. "What about the warehouse? You said you went to talk to Burch and Jaggers because you got a tip the place had untidy business dealings. Who fed you the tip?"
He shrugged. "Anonymous."
"You mean you won't tell me."
"I mean it was anonymous."
We stood staring at each other. Suddenly, I broke down.
"Look," I said, wiping my cheeks as tears started to fall, "this hasn't been easy on me either. I hate fighting with you. Normally, I can tell you anything, but lately all I've done is keep things from you."
He took a half a step toward me and stopped.
"I can't trust you," he whispered. "Not when you're hiding things from me."
"I can't finish this without you," I said. "I know Damon's innocent, and I know you can help me prove it. Standards is taking tourists and turning them into monsters."
Colt let out a sigh, turned around, and pulled open a drawer in a side table. He handed me a picture.
"What's this?" I asked.
"It's one of the missing tourists."
I looked at the picture of a smiling woman holding a parrot in one hand.
"This is the writer who went missing," I said excitedly. "Did you find her body?"
"Yeah," Colt snapped. "One of our agents found her body this morning. It was alive and well."
My brow crinkled. "You mean..."
"That's right. She's not dead. She finished her book early and decided to skip out on her hotel bill."
"But why order room service before leaving? How did she get off the island during the storm?"
"She'd had a few too many and ordered room service, then thought better of it and realized the storm was her best chance to get out of the hotel unnoticed. She didn't leave the island during the storm. She went and checked into another, cheaper hotel down by the docks. Then she skipped out on that bill, too, the next morning and caught the ferry back to the mainland."
I bit my bottom lips. "That doesn't mean all the other tourists—"
"One other tourist, and one part-time resident who might have just gone back home."
"You still don't believe me."
His frown deepened. He was staring at my hand. His mouth opened. "Couldn't wait to take your ring off, could you?" he snapped.
"Oh, crud, no! I forgot to put it back on! I took it off when I went to see Dean and I—"
"Ava," Colt said, grabbing the picture back. "There's no conspiracy here other than the one you and Damon have created together. The next time you see him, tell him I'm coming for him."
He pushed me out the door, gently but firmly, and this time, there was nothing subtle about it. He slammed the door in my face.
* * *
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SEVEN
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Lucy placed a steaming latte in front of me and took a seat at the table.
"How's it going?" she asked.
I looked up at her and felt my face tighten.
"That bad, huh?" she said.
"Colt hates me."
"He doesn't hate you," she said. "Want a brownie? We've got two left, and Melbourne's not looking. I'll sneak one out of the case for you."
"No, chocolate's not gonna help me. Not this time."
I took a sip off the latte and felt the caffeine kick my brain into high gear. It felt like my head had just been given a speed spell direct to my brainstem. Like driving on a racetrack with high octane gas and a turbocharger. I looked down at the latte, my eyes wide.
Lucy giggled. "It's a new recipe I'm trying out. I'm calling it brain octane. What do you think?"
"I think I like it," I said and took another sip, then I set the cup down. "You might want to back off on the caffeine just a bit, though, two sips and I'm already flying."
She pursed her lips. "Hmm, I guess I can leave out the green tea extract."
"There's tea extract in here?"
"And espresso shots, espresso extract, and quite a few other things. I basically packed whatever caffeine indulgent things I could into it. It's got the equivalent of thirty espressos."
"No wonder my head is tingling," I said. "Half that amount might be better next time."
"Half? This is brain octane. It's got to make you feel like you're running on gasoline here. The premium stuff, too. Not that cheap stuff."
"Believe me, it does. But if I run anymore, I'm gonna explode." I pushed the cup away. "You go ahead and finish it."
"I guess one more won't hurt," Lucy said, reaching for the cup.
"One more?"
"Yeah, I had to test them out on myself first."
I looked more closely at her and realized her eyes were dilated, and she was shaking her foot like there was a bee in her shoe. I'd been so focused on myself that I hadn't immediately noticed.
"How many of these things have you had?" I asked.
She waved her hand in the air and took a sip. "Including this one? I don't know. Two or three, maybe. Or maybe four. Yeah, I think this makes five."
My eyes widened as she took another sip. My head was already buzzing from the little I'd had. Lucy must be wired like a loose electrical line right now.
Melbourne suddenly appeared at our table. He was smiling and looking at Lucy with a mixture of concern and amusement. He set down a glass of water in front of her.
"I'll just take that," he said and pulled the coffee cup from her hands in one swift movement. He looked at me apologetically. "If brain octane makes our menu, it's going to come with a warning—strong, addictive, and guaranteed to give you the jitters."
Lucy's foot was still shaking. I didn't think it was going to stop anytime soon.
Melbourne walked away, shaking his head.
"I don't know what that was about," Lucy said. "There's nothing wrong with my new drink." She picked a coffee stirrer off our table and began to chew on it.
"Um, that's not mine, it was here when I sat down," I said.
She paused, looked at it, and continued to chew.
I had to admit that despite Lucy's jitters, my own hands were steady, and I had a good surge of energy running through me right now. Maybe they could sell the brain octane in shots rather than cups. I'd mention it to Melbourne on my way out.
My head was swimming with thoughts and ideas, some made no sense, but some... "I've got it!" I said, snapping my fingers and making Lucy jump.
"Got what?" she asked.
"I know what I need to do. It's obvious."
"Are we still talking about brain octane?"
I groaned and shook my head. Maybe Melbourne was right about that stuff coming with a warning label.
"I'm talking about Damon," I said, automatically whispering his name despite the silencing charm I knew was around our table.
"Okay," Lucy said. "What's your plan?" She was swinging her legs under her chair now while still chewing on the coffee stirrer, and her pupils filled her eye sockets like one of those pictures of an alien you see on the covers of sci-fi novels.
"I need to get back into Standards," I told her.
She shrieked with laughter, her head bouncing along with her feet. "You want to sneak into the warehouse? Are you sure that's a good idea?"
"No, but it's the best idea I've got at the moment. I need to get proof that those creatures are there, and I'm not just imagining things."
"How are you gonna do that?"
"Simple. I'll take some pictures. I can send them to Colt and when he sees what I've been talking about, he won't be able to deny what's going on."
"Okay," Lucy said absently. Her eyes were starting to twitch.
"The only thing is... they know me at the warehouse now. If I try to talk my way in, they'll be on m
e in a second."
"So, what do you want to do?"
I licked my lips. "I need you to go down there and cause a distraction while I sneak past the guards."
Lucy laughed so loudly that I wasn't sure the silencing charm would still work. If she got any louder, it might not.
"You must think I'm nuts!" she said.
"No, but I do think that you're my best friend, and I also think that you don't think Damon's guilty any more than I do."
She paused, her lips pressing together. "I don't think he's guilty. I believe everything you've said."
"If Damon gets caught, he'll go to jail. Maybe even worse."
"You're right," Lucy said. "And that's if he's captured by Colt or Sheriff Knoxx; they're the good guys. What if the bad guys get to him first? That boss of his... what was his name?"
"Burch," I told her.
"Right. If Burch catches him, it sounds like he's a dead man."
"So? Will you help?"
Lucy sighed. Her twitching subsided ever so slightly. "What sort of distraction did you have in mind?"
I smiled. "Don't worry. I've got it all figured out."
* * *
CHAPTER
TWENTY-EIGHT
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I watched Lucy approach the gate outside Standards and held my breath. She pushed the buzzer and a man's voice barked back at her.
"Who is it?"
"Cookie delivery," she said.
There was a moment of silence, then the man's voice came back over the intercom.
"What?" he said, sounding confused.
"Cookie delivery." Lucy held up a basket of cookies as if the camera could see her. I knew it couldn't though, not unless they'd fixed them in the last couple days, which I doubted. "I've got a special delivery for a Kip Burch. Someone's sent him a cookie basket."
"Who?" The intercom crackled.
Lucy smiled. "Looks like Mr. Burch has a secret admirer."
There was another pause then the guard buzzed her through. I moved quickly, sneaking in behind her before the gates could close. She shot me a look, and I ducked behind some bushes before one of the guards patrolling the area came around the corner. The guard inside must have radioed him because the guard went right up to Lucy and stopped her.
"Basket," he said, holding out his hand.
Lucy handed over the cookie basket I had prepared for her. It contained all our customer favorites—molasses, chocolate chip, and double chocolate brownie, all with quadruple doses of happiness, exuberance, and desire extracts.
"Try one," Lucy said, and the guard looked at her. She was wearing a jacket with a smiling cookie on the back that said Howdy! I'd found it in a thrift shop months ago and thought it was funny, so I'd bought it. This was the first time it was getting any use.
"No, thank you," the guard said, handing the basket back to her.
"Oh, go on," Lucy said. "They're delicious. Trust me, I baked them myself."
"They're for Burch. I'd get in trouble."
"I won't tell." She winked at him, and I could have sworn his cheeks colored pink.
"Well, maybe one." He reached into the basket and pulled out a chocolate chip.
"Good choice. Those are my favorites." He took a bite and his eyes lit up.
"That's delicious," he said and broke into a toothy grin. "Wow, I love these. In fact, I don't know if I've ever loved anything more in my life." He looked up at the sky. "Wow, isn't that the most beautiful shade of blue you've ever seen?"
"It's nice," Lucy agreed.
He took another bite of his cookie.
"And the dirt," he cooed. "What a pretty shade of brown. Doesn't it just glisten?"
Lucy fought a smile, and I wondered if maybe I'd overdone it a bit with the extracts.
The inside guard radioed him, and he responded by saying, "She's clean. Try one of the cookies. They're the most delicious things I've ever tasted. By the way, you're a terrific guard. You do a great job every day, and you're an amazing person, I just thought you should know that."
There was a crackle of static and then, "Are you drunk?"
"You're welcome!" the guard said and escorted Lucy to the front door before continuing on his way. I'd never dosed a cookie with quadruple extracts before and was just a little curious how long it would take before the effects wore off.
It was impossible for me to sneak into the building without getting caught by the inside guard, so I hung back behind some shrubberies and peeked out when I could. I thought I recognized the inside guard from the last time I'd been here. Howie.
She walked up to the desk. I hoped that things went according to plan. So far, things had gone well, but there was no guarantee they would stay that way.
Lucy smiled at the guard. It was hard to hear her through the doors but if I listened carefully, I could just make her out. She set the cookie basket in front of him, and I could tell by her reaction that he was eyeing them like he was a kid and they were Halloween candy.
"Try one," she said.
"I shouldn't," Howie replied.
"No, really. The other guard had one, and I'm pretty sure he's in love."
Howie leaned forward. "They do smell good." He hovered with his nose over the basket.
The outside guard came around the corner, beaming. I jumped back but too late. He saw me. I prepared to run, but instead of demanding to know who I was and why I was here, he smiled widely at me, gave a friendly little salute, and said "Good day," as he pulled open the door and stepped inside.
"Mind if I have another one of those?" he asked Lucy, reaching into the basket without waiting for an answer.
Howie frowned. "Those are for Mr. Burch."
"Have you tried one?" the outside guard asked. "I've never tasted anything like it." He shoved the entire cookie into his mouth at once and Howie's eyes widened.
"Maybe just one," Howie said and reached in for a molasses. He took a bite and his eyes lit up. "Wow, these are good." He grabbed his phone and dialed a number. "Mr. Burch, it's Howie Rutgers at the front desk. You'd better get down here right away." He hung up without saying anything else and a minute later, Burch appeared.
"What's happening?" he demanded. "Is it Tellinger? Is he here?"
"No, sir," Howie said. "It's something even better... you have a cookie delivery!"
Burch scowled. "A what?"
Lucy piped up. This was her cue. "Mr. Burch?" she asked.
"Who are you?"
"I'm the one sent to deliver your cookies." She shoved the basket into his arms. He coughed, and his scowl deepened.
"I don't want any cookies," he said.
Howie and the outside guard began to protest.
"But you have to try them!"
"They're amazing!"
"Just one!
"Or two!"
"Or three!"
Burch shouted, "All right, all right! Enough! I'll have one if it will get you two to be quiet and get you on your way," he said, glaring at Lucy. He blindly grabbed a cookie from the basket and ate it in a flash. I waited, afraid to so much as breathe. Suddenly, he started to laugh.
"That's delicious," he said. "Can I have another?" He was giggling like a schoolgirl.
"They're yours. You can have them all," Lucy said.
He giggled even more.
"Let me have one," said Howie, reaching for the basket.
"No, they're mine," Burch said.
"You can share!" Howie said angrily and tried to pull the basket out of Burch's hands.
"I want some, too!" the outside guard growled and made his own grab for the basket.
Burch turned away from them both. "Get away from me!" he yelled and dashed back into the building, running toward his office as if he was a criminal being chased by the police. I laughed at the thought. He was a criminal, and soon he'd be caught.
Lucy opened the doors for me. "Good job," I said to her and hurr
ied inside before the guards could come back.
* * *
CHAPTER
TWENTY-NINE
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I'd timed everything so that it would be lunch when we got to the warehouse. The floor was deserted, and I easily made my way down the hall to the basement door. I paused just long enough to turn the camera around, using a bit of magic to do so, and made my way downstairs before anyone could see me.
Colt had said that the rooms down here were empty, but I was betting he hadn't been shown all the rooms, just the ones purposefully left vacant. At least I knew which room I wanted to look in. I wouldn't have to guess.
The knob turned easily after I'd used a bit of magic on it, and I stepped into the same darkened room with the same tanks of mutants floating in amber liquid. I didn't realize I was holding my breath until I let go of it. There were no other sounds in the room except for a low, steady hum and bubbling noises, like something a fish tank might make.
I took my phone from my pocket and made a round of the room, snapping pictures of everything. I saw something I hadn't notice before; I'd probably been too scared to see it. Beneath the numbers that were embedded in each tank—A15, B4, etc.—there was also a name. I paused beside A14.
"Pierce Katcher," I read. Another tank read, "Mildred Lowley." I circled back around to the only tank in the room with black water instead of amber. It was the tank I'd hidden behind last time I was here. "Owen Kendall," I read, and my mouth dried up.
Kendall?
As in Grace Kendall aka Grace Beyers?"
"Oh, my roses," I muttered. Was this her brother? Her father? Her son? Grace hadn't looked old enough to have children, other than very young ones.