For a second time. He’d already done it once. He wouldn’t let himself do it again.
Plan B was far less glamorous but also far easier to execute. Jack took the obvious approach and waited outside Martine’s mansion. He did a slow loop around the property, squinting to peer in through windows but discovering nothing of interest.
He waited, hidden in a clump of trees, enduring some of the least welcoming weather imaginable. The hood of his sweatshirt was already completely soaked through, letting water drip down his face and into his eyes. After about an hour, Jack made the mistake of trying to lean against a tree to rest his legs. The bark was spongey, and it instantly soaked the back of his jeans and sweatshirt as he made direct contact.
He felt like a drowned rat by the time Martine, or at least a woman he assumed was Martine, made an appearance. She was an older woman, maybe in her mid-fifties or early sixties, but in good form for her age. She carried a purple umbrella and wore a maroon overcoat.
She walked around her front yard for a couple of minutes, checking up on flowers in a small garden. Then, she headed for the garage. A minute or two went by, and then the garage door opened and a small car pulled out.
Jack waited until it was through the gate and on the road before heading after it. He had to sprint to keep up, sticking to the easy shadows and pushing his enhanced speed to the limit. His haste meant that he couldn’t stop to maneuver around puddles, and his shoes were quickly soaked through to the sock. It almost felt nice, or at least balanced, to be so evenly drenched.
Martine didn’t drive into town. Instead, she took an odd route, turning north at every intersection, then northeast. She drove into the less traveled section of Lestaron Island, the half of the island that had never been cleared of trees and wilderness.
Eventually, she started driving south again. The roads switched from being paved to rough dirt and curved often to avoid boulders and other obstacles. The terrain made it both easier and harder for Jack to follow. He had more places to hide, but his presence stood out more, forcing him to follow through the trees instead of running on the road.
It felt like Martine drove for an eternity, but it was probably no more than a twenty-minute trip. She slowed as she arrived at her destination. From Jack’s perspective, it looked no more approachable than her mansion had.
Martine stopped the car outside of a gated storage yard. The gate opened for her after she reached out with a keycard and swiped it through a small terminal directly outside. She drove in and parked, and Jack again watched from the trees as she walked toward a small watchtower overlooking a line of storage containers.
There was a small, hidden dock on the far edge of the storage yard, though currently no boats were attached to it. Jack frowned as he tried to make what he was seeing fit with what he’d learned of Khumar and Monty. If they were a part of a larger gang, the storage yard he was looking at was no doubt a terminal for their illicit activities.
He wished he could hear the conversation taking place between Martine and the man she’d arrived to meet, but he was too far away. The man wore black and had an assault rifle strung over his shoulders. There didn’t seem to be anyone else on duty in the storage yard, but Jack wasn’t thrilled about what his chances would be against direct machine gun fire.
Martine only stayed for a few minutes before nodding to the man and heading back out to her car. Jack didn’t follow her as she drove off. He focused all his attention on his new target, smiling a little as he silently thanked Martine for being so helpful.
CHAPTER 16
The storage yard’s guard had a very simple job. He stood in a small tower, which was maybe as tall as a lifeguard outpost, watching the area with binoculars. Jack was more than a little surprised that he wasn’t spotted, as he’d pushed all the way up to the edge of the trees, just outside the yard’s fence.
The guard was attentive, if somewhat lazy. He didn’t leave the tower much, which, given the weather and the fact that the tower had an overhead roof, made sense. Jack had been waiting for close to an hour when the man finally climbed down the ladder and started on a survey of the grounds.
He resisted the urge to rush over the fence and immediately overpower the guard, knowing that it would be foolish to attempt a physical attack on someone with that much firepower. Luckily, the guard didn’t return to the tower, instead heading inside a small building in the far corner of the yard and closing the door behind him.
Jack didn’t hesitate. He scaled the fence, carefully avoiding the razor wire that had been looped around the top. Dropping down to the other side, he hurried over to the storage containers. There were ten of them, and all of them were open except for the very last, which was closed.
Jack glanced back toward the building. Still no sign of the guard, though there was no telling when he might return. He tried pulling at the storage container’s door, but a padlock held it firmly shut. A noise came from inside of it. Jack frowned and pressed his ear against the metal.
He could hear sounds coming from within. Whispered voices. A woman’s crying. He clenched his teeth and extended his arm to one side, attempting to conjure his Spectral Sword. He was rewarded with a headache and a hot flash, not from lacking the necessary blood essence but from being in too much sunlight. Even with the overcast, dreary weather, there was still just a bit too much illumination for him to use his magic outright during the day.
Luckily, the shipping containers were close enough together for Jack to slip into the shadows provided by the space in between. He barely needed to take a single step to place himself in a spot where he could successfully summon his sword. Jack heaved the dark blade through the padlock at an angle, noting the fact that it could survive the sunlight as long as he summoned it in the shadows.
A surprised squeal came from within the storage container. Jack let his sword fade as he stepped around and through the door. The first thing he noticed was the smell. It reminded him of visiting the animal shelter once as a child, except ten times worse. Urine, excrement, and body odor mixed together into a thoroughly unpleasant and saddening scent.
There were people inside. Jack could definitely hear the sound of a woman crying now and just barely make out the silhouette of someone standing upright.
“Please…” said a woman’s voice. “Can’t stay here no longer. Please let… free.”
“Hey!” A shout came from behind Jack, and he knew it was the guard. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
Jack turned around slowly. The guard was standing at the entrance of the storage container, aiming the assault rifle in his direction. It was dark within the container, and he could tell that the guard couldn’t see where he was from the way he panned the weapon back and forth.
“Who do I think I am?” asked Jack. “I think I’m the person who puts a stop to this.”
“You’re crazy,” said the guard. “But I’m a nice guy. If you step away from the merchandise, and come out into the light, we can talk this over.”
The merchandise. Hearing the guard objectify living people sent Jack into a cold, logical rage. He took a step forward, knowing that the guard wouldn’t fire directly into the shipping container, lest he risk damaging the “merchandise”.
“I think we should have a little talk,” said Jack.
In a single movement, he lashed out, casting Spectral Hand and using the shadowy tendril to slap aside the assault rifle. It went off, but the bullet fired into the ground harmlessly as the weapon fell from the guard’s hand. Jack sprang forward, slamming his shoulder into the guard and knocking him backward. He made a point of closing the container door behind him, not wanting the prisoners to have a clear view of him while he was using his powers.
The guard had at least some combat training. He fell back instead of rushing into a direct confrontation with Jack, pulling a knife from a sheath hanging at his side in a reverse grip. Jack locked eyes with his opponent, watching as the guard sized him up and smiled at what he must have considered to
be an easy opponent.
“You fucked up, pal,” said the guard. “This was none of your business, and now that you’ve stuck your nose in it. This only ends one way.”
“It’s funny,” said Jack. “I was thinking the same thing.”
He took a step back, slowly leading the guard around the storage container’s side and into the shadows. It was so easy that he almost wanted to laugh. The guard didn’t sense the danger he was in until the last second, and even then, he looked confused, rather than concerned.
“What are you up to?” asked the guard.
Jack snapped his hand to the side and summoned his Spectral Sword for the second time that day. The guard gasped as the crimson blade appeared in Jack’s hand. He glanced over his shoulder, clearly hoping he could dart back to the assault rifle.
Jack surged forward, slicing the weapon down and delivering a surprise slash to the hand of the guard that was holding the knife. The guard shouted and fell to one knee, holding a severed stump and shaking his head.
“You… you don’t know what you’re doing!” shouted the guard.
“I don’t?” asked Jack. “And how’s that?”
“The people I work for will fuck you up!” shouted the guard. “You don’t have the balls to kill me. Trust me, you don’t want to mess with my employer.”
Jack let the edge of his sword press against the man’s neck. He crouched down, putting himself at eye level with the guard.
“I came here today to mess with your employer,” said Jack. “And this…” He tapped his sword against the shipping container. “…This goes beyond what I was expecting to find.”
“Fuck you.” The guard spat at him, though Jack had endured enough of the rain to ignore the glob as it struck his shoulder. “You won’t do shit! You’re not the cops! And I doubt you want to have to deal with them any more than I do!”
Jack smiled. He grabbed the guard by the shoulder and rammed his sword through the man’s stomach. He dematerialized the blade almost as soon as the wound had been inflicted, carefully stepping to the side as blood began to ooze out of the wound. It seemed like a shame to let it go to waste, but it smelled wrong to him, different and unappetizing compared to the blood of women.
The body would be found, eventually. But they’d never find the murder weapon. Jack moved to the door of the shipping container, carefully wiping his sweatshirt sleeve over the small area he remembered having touched.
“Please…” came a woman’s voice, from inside. “Don’t hurt us. We… just prisoners.”
“It’s okay,” said Jack. “You’re free now. The door is open, and you can go wherever you want. Just don’t tell anyone about this.”
Jack stood aside from the container’s doorway and held his hand out. A couple of seconds went by. None of the women moved. He frowned, glancing around and feeling a little conspicuous. Wasn’t this the part where they were supposed to run out and embrace their freedom?”
“No… English,” said the same woman who’d spoken before. “Only me. I speak, uh, not much?”
“Okay,” said Jack. “Well, can you tell the others what I just said?”
The woman spoke in an Asian language that Jack didn’t recognize. A few other voices joined it. After another moment or two, the women came out of the container.
Jack wasn’t prepared for just how disheveled they were. There were five of them, and out of those five, three were clad only in dirty underwear. They all looked malnourished, some with matted hair, and at least two were completely barefoot.
“We don’t know where this is,” said the woman who could speak English.
“You’re on Lestaron Island,” said Jack. He folded his arms, feeling a growing concern over how the aftermath of the situation was going to play out. “I can bring you to the sheriff. He can help you get home, I think.”
Could he? Jack wasn’t actually sure, now that he considered the scale of the small-town office Sheriff Carter operated.
“They’ll find us,” said the English-speaking woman. “There’s more here! Evil men. They’ll hurt us. Please…”
Jack chewed on his lower lip. He honestly wasn’t all that thrilled about what might happen if he brought them to the sheriff, either. They’d seen his face now. They could identify him, and even though he’d saved them, it would still bring unnecessary attention his way.
“I can’t believe I’m about to do this,” he muttered. “It’s true what they say. No good deed goes unpunished.”
He pulled out his phone and dialed the mansion’s number. Ryoko answered on the third ring.
“I need you to bring the car to pick me up,” said Jack. “Uh… You’ll have to walk down to Stickly’s Tavern to go get it.”
CHAPTER 17
It took half an hour for Ryoko to arrive at the storage yard. Jack was waiting with the imprisoned women a short distance outside, hidden in the trees in case anyone associated with the smuggling ring showed up to check in.
The women were soaked and shivering by the time Ryoko got there. Jack gave the least-clothed one his sweatshirt and tried to keep their spirits up as much as he could. When he heard the car approaching on the road, he walked out to wave to Ryoko, who parked nearby.
“We’re going to have a few guests at the mansion for a day or two,” said Jack. “Is that alright with you?”
Ryoko’s eyes went wide when she saw the five victims walk out of the woods. Her knees buckled, and she fell to the ground, one hand going to her mouth, and the other clutching the spot on her chest directly over her heart. Jack crouched down next to her. He couldn’t tell if the wet lines streaking down her face were from the rain, or her own tears.
“Hey,” he said. “Are you okay? This doesn’t bring up any bad memories for you, does it?”
Ryoko stiffened. She wiped a hand across her face.
“No,” she said, in a level voice. “Why… would it?”
She met Jack’s gaze squarely as she spoke. When did she ever do that?
“Okay.” Jack squeezed her shoulder and stood back up. He gestured to Kia, the one English speaker of the group who had fallen into the role of translator. “Can you tell them to get in the back of the car? It will be a bit of a squeeze, but we’ll bring you somewhere safe.”
Kia translated to the women. One of them immediately started shaking her head and backing away. Kia had a back and forth with her in their native language before frowning and addressing Jack again.
“She’s… scared,” said Kia. “She saw the body. She doesn’t understand.”
Kia looked down, as though ashamed for having to bring it up. Jack had been hoping to get them by the spot where he’d left the guard quickly enough for them to miss it. He sighed and reached out a reassuring hand toward the girl that was scared. The girl flinched back wordlessly, looking horrified. Looking at him like he was a monster.
The emotions he saw in the nameless girl’s face were more than what he’d felt during the act of taking the guard’s life. Maybe that was how killing always was. To Jack, it had felt no differently than tossing a piece of trash into the garbage bin. Except that wasn’t the complete truth.
It had felt right. It had felt good. And it scared him a little to acknowledge it. It’d been easier to kill a man than he would have thought. And he could do it again, if he needed to. It was a realization that felt simultaneously chilling and liberating, and both emotions intertwined together until he couldn’t tell one from another.
Ryoko stepped in front of Jack, still visibly upset, but in enough control to help with the situation. She bowed to the women and whispered something to Kia in English. Kia asked a question that Jack couldn’t make out, and Ryoko nodded.
“Okay,” said Kia. She seemed more at ease with him than the others and flashed a sincere smile of gratitude his way. She started convincing the other women, and within a few minutes, all of them were crammed into the car. With four in the backseat and Kia upfront, there was no room left for Jack.
“Are you sure
you’ll be okay?” asked Ryoko.
Jack held out his arms. His sweatshirt was soaked to the point of not being able to hold any more water.
“I’ll be fine,” he said. “It’s not like I can get any wetter.”
He followed behind Ryoko as she drove down the dirt road, up until the point when it became paved again and split off in the direction of the mansion. As much as he wanted to follow her home, he knew he would need help to handle the situation he’d gotten himself into.
Jack jogged back into town, trying not to pay too much attention to the uncomfortable squish of his wet sneakers. It took him close to half an hour to reach the gym, and by the time he made it inside, he felt more like something that might occasionally wash up on the beach than a living, breathing human.
There was a place for all gym members to take off their shoes in rough weather to avoid tracking mud onto the workout floor. Jack took his off, but his socks were so wet underneath that he still left footprints in his wake. He stood at the edge of the workout equipment, looking past the happy exercisers and toward the group fitness room, where Katie would be teaching a yoga class at the current time.
Synda, Katie’s best friend, noticed Jack first. Her skin was a deep chocolate color, and she had straight black hair and a body that was both toned and rather well-endowed. She was wearing a grey men’s muscle tank-top over a workout bra and black leggings, and she smiled as she approached him.
“I forgot my umbrella,” said Jack, knowing what she was about to ask.
“Apparently.” Synda made a face as she looked him up and down. “I take it you didn’t come to work out today?”
“Not exactly,” said Jack.
“And not to use the showers, either,” said Synda. “I was actually just about to take one myself.”
Her body glistened with a thin layer of sweat that was positively stylish compared to Jack’s waterlogged state. She had a flirtatious smile on her face and smelled amazing. Did he have to go and grab Katie immediately? Couldn’t he relax and hang out for a bit with the cute gym girl, first?
Shadow Form (Dark Impulse Book 2) Page 9