Penumbra (The Midnight Society #2)

by Logan Patricks

  I suddenly felt bad for asking. I had to learn to stop being so nosy.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “Why are you sorry? Were you the one that called down the storm?”

  I shook my head. “I wish I had the super powers of Mother Nature, but I don’t,” I replied, “And I’d never hurt anyone with it, even if I did.”

  I had killed a person once, with the simple press of a button. It was one of the worst moments of my life. In order for me to kill again, it had to be a life and death situation, or one involving Calisto.

  “Well, since you’re not the one that drowned out my girl’s lungs, no need for apologies.” Beau stretched his arms and yawned. “Well look at me. The drink must have finally gotten to me. This is where I’ll say good night to you, darling. I still have a phone call to make, and then precious sleep to catch up on. You and your boyfriend there can use the pull-out couch, in front of my mirror. It doesn’t look like much, but it’s still pretty comfortable.”

  I nodded. “Thanks. Goodnight Beau.”

  I watched as he walked away from me with confidence in his strut. I still didn’t know what to make of him.

  I was always terrible at reading people and situations, and partially because of that, my life had been ripped apart.

  There was a chill forming in the night air and I shivered. I picked up the book, still resting in my lap, and returned inside, just in time to see Lincoln return.

  “How was the book?” Lincoln asked.

  I shrugged. “I didn’t get very far,” I replied. “I dozed off fairly quickly.”

  “I can never read late at night,” Lincoln said. “I usually end up drifting. I swear there are times I hallucinate extra words on a page. It’s a terrible predicament really, seeing as how it’s the only time I have available to read.”

  I wanted to reply to him but when I opened my mouth, I yawned instead—one of those ugly mouth-contorting yawns that made me look like a cave woman. I managed to cover my mouth at the tail end of it.

  Lincoln sighed. “I’m losing my charm with the ladies. There was a time when the opposite sex swooned at my words.” He grinned. “Now, it looks like the sound of my voice induces sleep.”

  “It’s not you Linc—Jesse,” I was quick to correct myself, just incase Beau was within earshot of us. “I’m just exhausted, that’s all. My sleep has been restless lately.”

  “I noticed,” Lincoln said.

  “You watch me sleep?”

  “No,” Lincoln said, “I’m usually watching the road while you’re sleeping. But it’s hard not to notice your moans, and not the pleasant sounding ones usually reserved for naughty dreams.”

  “I don’t have dreams anymore,” I said. “Everything is one giant nightmare. Both when I’m awake and when I’m asleep.”

  Lincoln pursed his lips. “I’m sorry.”

  I shook my head. “Everything that has happened was my own stupid fault. The second I saw Calisto at China White—that plague infested harpy woman—I should have fled. But fuck me; I was so desperate for cash. I needed that gig at Shadow’s party so badly.”

  “You couldn’t have known.”

  “She told me that violating the sanctity of her organization meant death,” I quoted the bitch. “If there ever was a time for common sense to prevail, it was then. Apparently all the bells and whistles that should have been ringing in my head were not in service that day.”

  Lincoln walked over to the pull-out couch and took the cushions off it. I watched as his steely arms, inked in colorful designs, gripped at the base of the seat and pulled out the bed portion of the couch effortlessly.

  He pointed to it. “Go to sleep Aria.”

  “What about you?” I asked.

  Lincoln shrugged his shoulders. “I can sleep on the floor.”

  “Won’t Beau be suspicious if he saw me sleeping in the bed, and you sprawled out on the floor next to me?”

  “We’re having a lover’s squabble? You don’t like the scent of whiskey on my breath? I have a back condition that can only be rectified by floorboards? You’d be surprised by the number of adequate responses I could provide as to why a ‘loving’ couple is sleeping apart from one another.”

  “Just take half the bed,” I said. “We’re both adults. I trust you.”

  “Your first mistake there,” Lincoln replied. “I’m the last person you want to trust in the bedroom.”

  I stood there and gave him an incredulous look. “Grow up?” I asked him, almost politely.

  Lincoln sighed. “I used to be so good with the ladies,” he reiterated. “What’s happened to me?”

  “You got screwed by a vile wench,” I replied as I made my way to the washroom to get ready for bed, “Just like I did. Just like Shadow did.”

  When I was done, and reentered into the room, I noticed that all the lights were off and there was only the full moonlight seeping through the window, penetrating through the darkness. I saw the outline of Beau, already in his queen-sized bed on the opposite side of the room, his heavy breaths indicating that he was fast asleep.

  Lincoln was lying on his half of the sofa bed, his right arm resting behind his head, eyes closed. He was wearing white tight tank top that fit snuggly against his body.

  I had to admit, he looked gorgeous, bathed in the brilliant blue light from outside. I took in the outlines of his face which was soft and generous, with a childlike innocence that seemed so calming. His eyes suddenly opened and he turned his head in my direction.

  “Is everything alright?” Lincoln whispered in a low, earthy tone.

  Damn, he caught me staring at him.

  “Yeah,” I replied. “Everything’s fine.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to take the floor?”

  I shook my head. “As I said, I’m sure we can both be mature about this.”

  Lincoln nodded.

  I slowly made my way into the bed and slipped beneath the covers, leaving enough of distance between Lincoln and myself.

  “Goodnight,” he said, with a warm smile. “Sweet dreams.”

  “They’re never sweet,” I said.

  “Maybe sleeping in the same bed as me will change some of that?” he grinned.

  I smacked him on the side of the arm. “Dork,” I teased, doing my best to conceal a smile of my own.

  “I used to be so charming,” he muttered as he turned to his side, facing away from me.

  As I lay there on the stiff sofa bed, a loose spring jamming into my bare thigh, I couldn’t help but stare at the ceiling and listen to the sounds of breathing all around me.

  Beau, who lied about this shitty sofa bed being comfortable, was snoring gently in his own little corner, not at all concerned that he had invited two complete strangers into his home. Though, I still couldn’t allow myself to completely trust him, there was the idea that someone who could play the violin as beautifully as he did couldn’t possibly be all that bad.

  And then there was Lincoln lying next to me, whose breathing sounded so much different from the last man I shared a bed with. Whereas Shadow’s breaths were heavy and long, Lincoln’s were short staccatos, gentle and almost whimsical in nature.

  I had no clue why I was trying to compare their intake of oxygen. Lincoln was right, I definitely needed to sleep.

  I closed my eyes and allowed my mind to drift, first to Beau’s violin—which pried open the door to my passion for music again, the same door I had sealed shut after watching Justin burn—and then to Lincoln, who had suffered just as much as anyone else in this damned world. Yet he still put on that brave face of his and went out of his way to make me feel whole again.

  It was the sounds of Lincoln’s breathing which I fell asleep to.

  I waded through the murky dark waters of the swamp, heading towards the light in the distance. The sky was the color of ink and if it weren’t for the faint yellow glow in the distance, drawing me towards it like an invisible towline, I would have believed I’d gone blind. The only so
und I heard was the water, disturbed by my body moving through it, and the whispers of men. Whether they were alive or dead, I couldn’t tell.

  I should have been scared, but I wasn’t. I was a woman without hope, and without that, what was there left for me to fear?

  I saw him, sitting on a large boulder that protruded from out of the black water. He was holding a candle while a long, rusted iron chain was shackled around his neck, the end of it falling deep into the swamp.

  I was wrong. There was still something that terrified me—facing Justin.

  In all the other dreams and visions I had, Justin never spoke, but this time he did.

  “I thought you said goodbye to me,” he said.

  “I tried to,” I replied.

  “Yet here I am.”

  I walked up to boulder where he sat and touched the smooth, wet stone. Meanwhile all around us, the whispering continued.

  Where was I? Was this hell?

  No, it was impossible. Justin didn’t belong here.

  “Please, tell me you accept my apology,” I said. “That you forgive me for what I did to you.”

  Justin lifted up the candle up to my face and studied it. “You’re crying,” he said.

  “Of course I am,” I replied, as I wiped away the wetness from my cheeks. “I watched you burn.”

  He looked at the flame from the candle. “Oh, right,” he replied. “I guess I should keep this away from me then.” He placed the candle back onto the boulder and looked at me with grey, lifeless eyes. “You said goodbye to me today.”

  “I had to,” I said, “And not because I want to forget about you. I think I’m going insane.”

  “Sorry,” Justin said.

  “Do you forgive me?”

  “Have you earned forgiveness yet?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know how I can ever earn your forgiveness,” I replied.

  Justin looked at me and frowned. “Oh, I think you know how, Aria,” he said. Suddenly, out of the depths of the water behind him, a dark figure emerged from the waters like the terrible creature she was.

  It was Sinister, dressed in the terrifying executioner’s garb that she wore at the Inferno.

  I wanted grab her by the head and shove it deep down into the swamp water, filling her lungs with the black liquid.

  But I couldn’t. I was frozen in my place.

  Despite my desire to avenge Justin, I was terrified of her too.

  I watched as she lifted the end of the chain, attached to Justin’s neck, out of the water. She began laughing at me—not in her feminine voice filled with honey and wine—but in the dark twisted one that sounded like the cracking of bones. It was the same voice that had given the orders to set Justin on fire.

  Justin looked at me sadly, shrugged, and then lifted himself off the rock and jumped into the water.

  “I’ll see you later,” he said, as he slowly turned his back to me and began wading through the water towards Sinister.

  I tried to call out to him, but an invisible hand covered my mouth, forcing me into silence.

  Sinister stared at me with her poisonous eyes before turning away from me as well, towing the chain that held Justin captive. I watched helplessly as the two disappeared into the darkness—Justin forever bound to that devil in red lipstick.

  And then I woke up.

  “Aria?” Lincoln sat up in the bed and rested a firm hand on my shoulder.

  I had woken up in a panic. I was breathing hard, like a chain smoker after running a marathon.

  I covered my face with my hands, a weak attempt to hide my ugly tears.

  “You alright?” he asked.

  I cleared my thoughts and took a deep, calming breath.

  I turned to see if I had woken up Beau as well. His bed was empty.

  “Just another bad dream, that’s all,” I said, turning my attention to Lincoln. He genuinely looked concerned.

  “Same nightmare as before?” he asked.

  No, this time it was different. There was something about this nightmare that felt too real.

  “Lincoln, when we find Calisto, tell me what you plan on doing,” I asked.

  He didn’t reply.

  “Tell me what we’re going to do to her.”

  “When we find Sinister—”

  I was quick to cut him off.

  “Calisto,” I corrected him. “Damn it, Lincoln, call her by her name. Lucifer is still Satan and the Grim Reaper is still Death.”

  He looked at me with glossy eyes, and finally nodded.

  “Calisto,” he said.

  “What are we going to do when we find her?” I asked once more.

  “Whatever Shadow wants to—”

  I cut him off again.

  “She’s still his sister,” I said. “I don’t think Shadow will be able to do what’s needed. It’s up to us.”

  “And what’s needed to be done?” Lincoln asked.

  “We’ll need to kill that bitch,” I replied, “For Justin and for your friends.”

  Lincoln sighed. “Aria, when the time comes, will you be able to stick the knife into her heart and twist it?”

  “Yes,” I said without hesitation.

  He shook his head.

  “Think about it longer. Really think about it. Are you willing to take another life again?”

  I thought of the boy who I had murdered in Calisto’s condo. Shit, who was I kidding? Lincoln was right.

  I had killed someone in cold blood once, and it had ruined me—a dark cancerous spot on my conscience that I could never rid myself of.

  “I don’t know,” I said as I buried my hands in my face once again. I was exasperated. “I don’t know what I’m saying or thinking anymore. Everything is one big mess. I’m about to fall over the edge.”

  Lincoln wrapped a firm arm around my waist and whispered into my ear.

  “I won’t let you fall,” he said.

  I looked at him. His eyes were illuminated by the moon, high above the New Orleans’ skyline.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  He licked his lips, and then said, “I’ll never allow you to lose who you are Aria,” he said. “The day that I met you, you were this lovely girl with an angel’s touch. I’m sorry that you were dragged into all of this—dragged into the Midnight Society.”

  I took a deep breath and remembered the day I stepped through the hallway of the Tremaine estate, how exciting everything was at the beginning of this adventure. And now…and now—fuck.

  “Calisto will pay for what she did,” Lincoln continued. “She hurt us all. However, her punishment isn’t up to you, nor I. Accept whatever fate comes to her, and then move on, Aria, just move on far away from all of this, from all of us.”

  “I can’t run away from you and Shadow,” I said. “Don’t you see? I have nowhere to run to. I have no one who wants me.”

  Lincoln brushed the hair from out of my eyes. “Someone would have to be insane not to want you.”

  For a moment, I thought he was going to move in for a kiss, but he pulled back, the look of guilt transparent in his eyes. I felt his arm unravel from around me as he cleared his throat.

  “Sorry—” he started to say.

  I shook my head, grabbed his arm and positioned it back around my waist. It felt nice to be held again.

  He looked at me, surprised, before pulling away from me once again. “Shadow—” he began.

  “Doesn’t care about me anymore,” I said. “Have you been in contact with him?”

  “Yes.”

  “If that doorknob still loves me, why doesn’t he have you put me on the phone?” I asked.

  “He’s a complicated guy,” Lincoln said, “I’m sure he has his reasons—”

  I cut Lincoln off again. “If you loved someone with all your heart, wouldn’t you want to hear their voice? Wouldn’t Shadow have wanted to hear my voice?”

  Lincoln paused for a moment. “Yes.”

  “I thought so,” I said as I lay back down, Lincoln�
��s arm still wrapped around me. “I had another one of my shitty dreams again. I want you to hold me.”

  There was a brief pause, before Lincoln responded with, “Alright.”

  I nuzzled my head into his chest, and listened to the beating of his heart. It ignited a fire inside me with its lively rhythm—like the sounds of wild drums.

  His smell was exotic too—a sweet spice that filled me with an insatiable hunger that could only be fulfilled by his touch.

  I wanted Lincoln to only comfort me, but instead, the magnetism of his body suddenly made my sex ache. I wanted to be filled.

  I really needed to get laid.

  Maybe it would make me feel alive again?

  I thought of Shadow, and how he used me to satisfy his urge in the kitchen of the theatre. It felt amazing at the time, but the way he treated me after—like a whore he had paid for—tore my heart open.

  Meanwhile, it was Lincoln who made me feel safe over the past couple of weeks. It was Lincoln who consoled me from the start of this entire ordeal, who called me back while we were standing on the rooftop of the Inferno when I wanted to leave. He—not Shadow—had offered to protect me. Even though I was a complete mess inside, it was Lincoln who managed to steal a few laughs out of me. My heart raced and I began breathing harder as I thought of Lincoln taking me like he had Juno, filling my ears with his dirty words. My breasts felt heavy with desire as I closed my eyes and envisioned his mouth—his tongue—tasting my skin while I filled my hands with his throbbing cock.

  I just needed something to make me feel different—anything to drag me out of this rut—and Lincoln could provide that to me.

  “Lincoln?” I whispered.

  No reply.

  I looked up and realized he had fallen asleep.

  “You’re kidding me,” I muttered to myself, disappointed.

  I sighed. Perhaps it was for the best. Maybe unhinged angry sex wasn’t going to make me feel any better at the moment.

  I closed my eyes and lay there silently, doing my best to ignore the ache and the wetness in between my legs. Instead, I listened to the beating of his wild, voodoo heart.

  Chapter Fifteen