The Monster of Farewell (Blacklighters Book 1)

by Catherine Black

  Not a single word is exchanged as the air charges around us. My skin prickles, as if sensing danger is afoot, and I have to tamp it down, just like the rest of my feelings. Everyone else settles in, pressing their backs to the wall, and just...waits.

  Breathing through my nostrils, swallowing down the bile racing up my throat, I try to get a grip on myself. Nothing makes sense here. Not the fights, not their customs, not the attitudes or the way they conduct themselves. It reminds me of my first week in prison, when I learned that inmates have their own social system, their own unspoken laws and beliefs and language. It took months for me to learn how to survive there, but here, I don't think I'll have that kind of time to acclimate. I served with murderers and pedophiles and cannibals...and yet something tells me the people here—Blair and Ice in particular—would put that kind of savagery to shame if given the chance. After all, if I'm reading things correctly, Blair just sold her daughter's body. And for what?

  “I have to say, Mr. Lawson, I'm impressed.”

  Blair's voice has me stiffening where I stand, but I'm not a coward, so I meet her stare head-on. “Why's that?”

  She examines her long nails, seemingly bored out of her mind. “I figured you'd be the first to bleed.”

  I chuckle. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  Her comment strikes me as funny, considering the other men in that cage. If they were engaged in a fair fight, it wouldn't have been an issue at all. Lucky for them, when faced with Mercury, they were ready and willing to fight dirty.

  Next to me, Layla nudges my arm. “It's not as bad as it seems,” she whispers, gesturing to the closed door. “Mercury will be fine.”

  Her optimistic smile confuses me, but I'm beginning to see that everyone here has a plethora of masks they wear from moment to moment and that each expression is a front. A lie.

  I'm just about to ask her what 'it' is when a sound from just beyond the door stops me flat. It churns my stomach, sets my skin ablaze, and every single muscle fiber in my body stiffens like I've been electrocuted.

  Someone on the other side of that door is...moaning.

  My eyes fly to Eric, and he just shakes his head again. I turn to face Ice and the fucker winks. What the hell is wrong with these people?

  When I cautiously turn eyes to Blair, she's examining her nails again, completely nonplussed as her daughter—nope. Can't even say it.

  A piece of furniture creaks, a bed I'm guessing, and the sound goes on far longer than I wish it would before we hear sudden movement...and then a scream.

  It shakes the walls with its force, and adrenaline dominates my every move as I shove off the wall and stand at attention. Eric slams a hand to my chest, stopping me from getting any closer. I don't fight him. I just stare at the closed door, willing lasers to shoot from my eyes so I can see what's going on, but I can barely breathe as my heart lodges in my throat. Nothing happens. The only sound coming through is that of pain. Screaming. Struggling. Cursing.

  “What's wrong?” I look to Layla, hoping she has answers for me, but she's smiling. She's smiling! So is everyone else. These people are beyond fucked. “What's happening? Do we need to—”

  The soft click of the door unlatching grabs my attention, and I spin around just in time to see Mercury step out. She's wearing a black robe over her purple undergarments, and her white dress gone. But her head is up, chin defiant, shoulders back, face blank. Streaks of crimson dribble over her cheeks and chin.

  What. The. Fuck.

  I'm wondering if I landed in Stepford instead of Farewell when Mercury walks right up to me and stops, looking up at me with a blank expression. I'm not sure what the hell I'm supposed to do here, not sure what she's asking of me, so I cast my eyes to Eric, pleading for answers or some form of guidance. But he's laughing, eyes pinned to the middle-aged man barreling out the door with his pants around his ankles. The suit holds a hand to his shoulder to stop the blood currently bubbling through his skin.

  “Stop her!” He shuffles forward, almost tripping on his pants. I'm not sure what this guy expects of us; Mercury's not exactly retreating. “She—she fucking bit me! I—I didn't even...” He turns a murderous glare to Blair, who is also smiling. “I want my money back. Right now. Every goddamn cent.”

  Blair laughs, and even I know the sound means danger. It says 'don't test me', like the rattling tail of a snake, the scream of a cougar, the low rumble of a grizzly bear. The laugh says she's not to be fucked with.

  “Mr. Harlyn, you saw what she did in the cage. Don't bid on a Blacklighter if you can't handle her.” She smooths a hand over her blonde hair and turns to walk away, smirking. “Besides, you put in a bid for blood. You never specified who would be bleeding.”

  Eric and Ice escort Mercury and me into the elevator. Head reeling, I never take my eyes off her as we ascend all the way to the fourth floor in silence. She seems unharmed. Content, even. Any other woman would be in tears right now, but her eyes are just as empty and flat as ever.

  When the elevator opens to a long narrow hallway lined with doors, Ice—the asshole that he is—shoves me forward. I didn't like him before, and I sure as shit don't like him now. I let him know as much when I stare into his eyes and set my jaw. I have at least six inches and fifty pounds on him, so this intimidation technique of his won't work on me.

  “Go.”

  His command isn't what moves me in the end. It's Eric, bumping a fist to my shoulder, taking off down the hallway, and Mercury following. When he reaches the room he's looking for, Eric opens the door and waves, waiting for us to enter. We do so silently—because, really, what the hell do I even say at this point?—and just over the threshold, I pause, taking in the simple but spacious living quarters.

  “Welcome home.” Eric spreads his arms wide, gesturing to what resembles a swank-ass dorm room, before letting them fall. “Better than a cell, right?”

  His question is clearly aimed at me, but I ignore him as I take in the two beds—one queen, one twin—both covered in black linens. The desk in the corner looks used but well taken care of, and just through a small archway I see a kitchenette, and parallel to it, an adjoining bathroom.

  Scrambling to get a grip on this situation, I run down the facts in my head.

  I lost a fight.

  Now, I'm Mercury's.

  I'm a Keeper.

  I'm meant to help her.

  Serve her.

  Live here.

  With her.

  The woman who just tore a hunk of flesh out of a man.

  No. Thank. You.

  Mercury glides around me and takes a seat at the foot of the bed, her posture as rigid as I've ever seen it. Ice goes to her and takes her head between his hands, his gentle touch surprising me. Eyes closed, head bowed, from this vantage point he seems to be in prayer. But he's not. This is a Godless place.

  “You didn't let him in, did you?” he asks.

  Mercury's eyes meet the floor and she shakes her head.

  “You just touched him?”

  She nods.

  Relief floods me—instant and so powerful I have to close my eyes and take in a breath.

  Ice chuckles. “Atta girl.” His lips meet her forehead in a tender kiss, and I'm surprised at how vehemently I object to this action.

  “Okay, man,” Eric claps me on the shoulder. “It's all you now.”

  Turning, I see his grim expression and freeze. “What's all me?”

  Before he has a chance to answer, Ice slides past me, shoves Eric out into the hall, and slams the door shut in my face, leaving me here with what is possibly the most dangerous person I've ever met. That's really saying something, considering I once met a cross-dressing serial rapist in prison and even he was more forthcoming than my current hosts.

  Knowing I'm not getting answers today—only more questions—I give in to the current circumstances and reluctantly turn to face Mercury. After all, it's not wise to keep your back to a tiger. She still hasn't said a word, hasn't moved, and I walk
closer, bare feet padding silently on the plush carpet until I'm so close I can smell the coppery tang of blood wafting off her skin.

  I shove a hand through my hair and sigh. Even though I've seen what kind of damage she's capable of inflicting, Mercury is still a person; one that grew up in a place where violence is commonplace and sin is a prerequisite. I can't imagine that kind of upbringing, and I don't think I want to, but that doesn't stop me from feeling sympathetic toward this tiny, emotionally-stunted woman. “You okay?”

  Dark blue eyes shift to mine, still just as flat as they were a second ago. She nods, and that's all I get. One nod.

  “Do, uh...do you need anything?”

  She shakes her head this time.

  I move in close, and when she doesn't react, I slowly ease myself onto the bed beside her. Stupid, really, when you think about what I just witnessed, but I can't ignore the fact that there's something about Mercury's stillness that has my curiosity piqued. She's been through a traumatic experience. The fight, the branding, the blood...thing.

  “Is there something you need? Something I need to do?”

  Her head swivels so she's staring up at me with that blank and beautiful face of hers. When she speaks, her voice is even rougher than the last time I heard it. “He pushed me.” A smile tugs at her lips, but it looks odd. Not forced, just unsettling. A hand goes to rest over her chest, just below her throat, where I see the large handprint of a man reddening her pale skin. “That was a mistake.”

  Well...I have to agree with what she's saying. The dude was delusional if he thought taking this lethal woman would be fun. He may as well have dropped trow in the middle of a cobra pit.

  “Yeah,” I whisper. “It was.”

  Mercury's tongue darts out, dragging along her lower lip through coagulated blood, and my stomach rolls. She, however, doesn't seem affected in the slightest.

  “Okay, well...” I clap my hands together, nerves dominating my every breath. “Clearly, I'm new to all this, Mercury, so you're gonna have to tell me how this whole thing works because I'm lost.”

  When she looks up, her eyes aren't on my face. They get stuck a little lower, and her eyebrows pull together as she stares at the bruises lining my throat. Truth be told, it hurts like a bitch, but I've endured worse.

  “I should have killed you.”

  She seems confused by her statement, and that makes two of us. She's not saying she almost killed me...the statement isn't apologetic in any way. She's saying she should have killed me, but chose not to.

  As I often did in my youth when faced with discomforting facts, I aim for levity. “Well, you didn't. I'm still here.” I try for a smile, but it's lost on her. “Seriously, though. That was intense. Are you sure you're okay?”

  After a moment of careful consideration, Mercury slowly, slowly shakes her head.

  Before I know it, my eyes are searching her for injury, hands twitching, intent on touching her, but I curl them into fists and choose to venture forward with only words. “What's wrong?”

  Stiffly turning her back to me, Mercury carefully lowers her black robe, and my jaw drops with it. I have no idea how she hasn't been crying and writhing in pain because the brand at her back is a bloody mess. The freshly-cauterized sun has been blistered and opened, and I can just imagine how this came to be. She said he pushed her, but there's more to it than that. I can practically see it playing out in front of my eyes. Him shoving her onto the bed, intent on holding her down, not giving a second's pause to consider the painful brand. Her struggling and eventually attacking the man who had no business touching her in the first place.

  I want to hurl. Or punch the man right in the face. Or both.

  “Fuck. Uh...hold on.”

  I'm in overdrive, racing to the bathroom. Everything is unfamiliar here, but they've made it easy for me. On the counter is a first aid kit filled with ointments, bandages, and one clear glass bottle of unmarked pills. I grab the whole thing and race back to the room to find Mercury hasn't moved an inch. She's still as a statue, and I'm hoping she stays that way and doesn't go all savage killer on me as I crawl onto the bed behind her where I can examine her neck.

  She's breathing through the pain like a champ, but my hands are trembling as I open a tube of antiseptic ointment and lean in close, stopping cold when I see white fibers and strands of dark hair embedded in her skin. They're stuck there, peeking out from beneath dried blood.

  “This is bad,” I whisper.

  A dainty hand comes back over her shoulder, and Mercury traces the wound with her fingertips, ever so gently, like a butterfly tentatively examining a poisonous flower. Then, surprising the hell out of me, she looks up and our eyes meet. For the first time since we met, I see unease. I see trepidation. I see pain.

  Tonight, Mercury ventured to Hell and back, and somewhere along the way, she cracked. It's these fissures that lend me a glimpse at the person she is beneath all the callouses and scars, and what I find peeking out at me is mesmerizing.

  Her lower lip trembles, pulling my gaze down to her mouth, and I speak without thinking. “Get up. You need to shower.”

  Even though she's not the kind of woman to take orders, Mercury flutters her eyes closed and nods. The fast and easy way she bends to my order tells me she needs this more than she's letting on. She needs to scrub the man's touch away.

  Mercury follows me into the bathroom, never leaving the safety of my shadow. She may be all steel and lava and venom, but right now, she needs someone to take hold of the reins and take control. She needs to be cared for because clearly no one else in this godforsaken place ever has.

  Mercury needs me.

  The shower tucked into the corner of the bathroom reminds me of the ones I used back in prison, only bigger. And cleaner. Tiny blue tiles extend from floor to ceiling, surrounding a wide metal shower head, but there's no curtain. Not even a rod to hang one on. There are, however, seven different bottles of frilly looking soaps and shampoos and multiple sponges lined up along a low hanging shelf. My eyes rake over their labels as I wait for the water to reach the right side of scalding. She needs this; to scrub and cleanse away the ugliness of the night.

  Across the room, Mercury moves, and I glance up to see she's dropped the robe to the ground. She stands upright, waiting, and I do the only thing that makes sense—take her stance as my cue to leave.

  “Let me know if you need anything.”

  I dry my hands on the black jeans I'm still wearing and move to brush past her, but a small hand flies out, plastering itself to my chest. My breath catches when I feel the heat of her touch, and I look down to find Mercury staring up at me, her blue eyes begging for...something.

  “I need—” She stops suddenly, grimacing. I have a feeling she's never spoken those two words before in her life. Her throat rolls with a hard swallow and I can tell it's taking a great amount of effort to speak to me—the strange man standing in her bathroom. “Take this off. Please.”

  She pats the purple satin hugging her breasts.

  Ah...

  Ahem.

  Okay.

  I haven't undone a bra since I was nineteen years old in the back of Susan Carson's Pontiac, but I'm no stranger to women's undergarments. Still, I feel like a creep when Mercury turns her back to me and I scoop her hair to the side, exposing the long column of her spine. There are bruises, both new and old, dotting her midsection, and I can't help but think how wrong they look. She shouldn't be marked. Shouldn't be touched with a rough hand, let alone hit and kicked, but then I remind myself that I was the one holding her hands down in the cage.

  I touched her. I held her down. When she was blazing through a squad of dangerous men she shouldn't have been able to mow down while blinded, I didn't see a woman, I didn't see a soft body. I saw a weapon. A threat. But now? Under the harsh fluorescent lights above, I see an expanse of skin dotted with freckles. I see a birthmark coloring the small of her back. I see strength in the toned muscles of her bare legs. And I see scars. Lots of
scars.

  The clasp comes undone easily, but Mercury doesn't move, so I dip my fingers beneath the strap at her shoulders and slide them to the sides until they fall down her arms. She lets it hit the ground.

  I need to leave, but my feet won't move. My body insists on staying, even though my mind is screaming that this tiny wisp of a woman is unhinged, alone and broken, covered in sweat and another man's blood. But...she's not alone. In that regard, I am wrong. Because I'm here. Here, watching Mercury's fingers hook into the fabric hugging her waist. Here, watching purple satin slide down her legs. Here, growing painfully erect as I marvel at her naked body.

  She is truly beautiful.

  Even though it's the last thing I want to do, I force my feet backward, toward the door, away from Mercury. I need to get out of here. My presence will only make this worse. She doesn't need—

  “Kessler.”

  I freeze. “Yeah?”

  Glancing to the side, looking nowhere in particular, Mercury shifts, lifting an arm until she's tapping a finger to her shoulder. She doesn't have to say another word for me to know what she wants: My help.

  Frustrated doesn't even begin to cover what I'm feeling as I pinch the bridge of my nose and breathe deep, taking a beat to get my head on straight. I wonder if there's a way to do this without touching her, without looking at her, without making her feel even more used and abused than she already does. I can't ignore the fact that the last man who touched her is missing a chunk of flesh right now. There's no hiding my body's reaction to her beauty, so who's to say she won't read the lust in my eyes and gnash her teeth at me too? There are a few appendages I have that I'd like to keep.

  Then, I remember who and what I am. Mercury is strong and powerful and potentially violent, yes, but so am I. I may not have it in me to strike her, but I sure as hell have the strength to restrain her. I just hope it won't come to that. In fact, I know it won't.