He grabbed the photo of the warehouse, examining it more closely. There was an address written on the back, and from the road name, Jack could tell it was somewhere on the island. He quickly slipped the photo into his pocket, closed the drawer, and moved back over to the chair he’d been sitting in earlier just as Emanuel reentered the room.
“Now Jack,” said Emanuel. “There is an upfront deposit we require all potential clients to pay upon filing the application. It’s not much, and if it turns out that you don’t find a match, we return…”
Emanuel trailed off. Jack froze, trying to keep a natural smile on his face as though he hadn’t just plundered the man’s desk. But Emanuel wasn’t looking at him. He was looking out the window that overlooked the street. Jack followed his gaze and immediately spotted what had caught his attention.
Bruce was waiting outside, dressed in his deputy’s uniform, and leaning against his cruiser. He was staring up at the window that Jack and Emanuel were looking out of, brazenly making his interest clear. Emanuel was still smiling as he turned to look at Jack again, but a dangerous gleam had taken up residence in his eyes.
“We’ll have to cut this meeting short,” said Emanuel. “I’m afraid some unexpected business has come up that I must attend to.”
Jack raised an eyebrow, trying to seem surprised.
“I’m still interested in exploring how your company can help me,” he said.
“Oh, I’m sure you are,” said Emanuel.
He stared at Jack, his focus overbearing in its intensity. Jack slowly stood up from his chair, feeling the tension in the room skyrocket as Emanuel sized him up for the first real time in their encounter.
“I’ll be in touch about setting up a follow-up, then,” said Jack.
Emanuel gave him a curt nod.
“Yes,” he said. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing more of each other soon.”
He gestured toward the door. Jack walked out slowly, not stopping to say anything to the confused secretary on his way out.
CHAPTER 22
Bruce was still waiting on the street when Jack exited the lobby. He spotted Jack immediately, and his expression shifted from curiosity to something a bit more smug. Jack gritted his teeth, trying to fight a losing battle against his annoyance and frustration.
“You really don’t have anything better to do?” asked Jack.
Bruce shook his head. “Nope. What’s in that building that you’re so interested in?”
“This is literally stalking, Bruce,” said Jack. “What’s to stop me from going to the sheriff and letting him know what you’ve been up to?”
Bruce took a step forward, moving in closer to Jack.
“The fact that you’re hiding something,” said Bruce. “You don’t want attention. That’s the one thing about you that has me fully convinced that you’ve got some dark fucking secrets. You’re always trying to fade into the background.”
“This is about Katie, and we both know it,” said Jack. “You can’t handle the fact that I’m a part of her life again now.”
Bruce’s eyebrow twitched.
“This has nothing to do with Katherine,” he said. “But nice try. This is about you, and about the fact that you don’t fucking add up. You’ve been running around town since you first got here like you’re on some kind of secret mission.”
“When are you going to give this up, Bruce?”
“When you leave this island,” said Bruce. “You don’t belong here, Jack.”
Jack scowled and tried to make his way down the sidewalk. Bruce moved to block his path. Jack reacted instead of thinking, trying to push the taller man out of the way. It was what Bruce had been waiting for. He caught one of Jack’s wrists with one hand and threw a punch with the other, connecting solidly with Jack’s jaw.
Jack made the mistake of trying to use his blood magic. It was the first nice, non-overcast day all week, and he’d forgotten how much the sun affected his abilities. He couldn’t cast Spectral Hand or rely on his enhanced strength and speed. He couldn’t do anything except take the hit, and Bruce had put enough force into it to make it hurt. Jack tasted copper, his own blood, as his lip tore open on one of his teeth.
“Go ahead,” said Bruce, as Jack stumbled back. “Turn this into a fight, Jack. See what happens.”
Jack closed his eyes for a second or two, trying to force down his fury. He took a slow breath and started walking again, taking a wider berth around Bruce this time.
“Thought so,” said Bruce.
Jack didn’t look back. He headed straight for the car, climbing into it and pulling onto the street. He took a look at his face in the mirror. His lip was obviously swollen, and there was a bit of bruising around the corner of his mouth. He slammed his fist into the side of the steering wheel. Three times in a row.
He didn’t head straight back to the mansion. He headed for Stickly’s Tavern. It was open, despite the fact that it was barely lunchtime. Mickie was standing behind the bar counter, polishing a shot glass. She raised an eyebrow when she saw him taking a seat at one of the stools but didn’t say anything as she started filling up a mug.
It would be easy enough for Jack to handle Bruce. All he needed to do was wait until nightfall and then lead Bruce off to a secluded, shadowy area. With his powers, Jack knew that he could dispatch him without breaking a sweat. He might not even need to bother with disposing of the body, if he was careful in the same way he had been when he’d killed the guard in the storage yard.
Jack took a sip of his beer, feeling a sudden chill run through him at the cold and calculating tone of his own thoughts. No, he couldn’t just kill Bruce to get rid of him, and he was more than a little disgusted with himself for even considering it. How much had he changed over the past few days for murder to be a tool in his repertoire? Who was he becoming?
He took another long sip of his beer, hoping that the alcohol would have a calming effect on him. The strangest part about it was that he didn’t hate Bruce, despite the punch and despite the stalking. Bruce’s suspicions were founded in fact, after all. But that lack of hate made Jack’s own willingness to dispose of the man like an annoying bug seem even more hideous. He wasn’t ready to let himself go down that path, not now and not ever.
Jack slid his mug aside and pulled the photo he’d stolen from Emanuel’s desk out of his pocket. He looked up the address scrawled across the back using the maps app of his phone. The warehouse was off one of the roads that cut through the uninhabited part of the island, not too far from where the storage yard had been. He could make it there easily enough on foot, though it would be a bit of a walk.
He finished his beer and then, knowing that it was still too bright outside to rely on his blood magic, decided to have another. He tapped on the side of his glass, and Mickie hurried over to refill it. She frowned at him as she brought it to the tap.
“You should be careful,” she said, in a quiet voice.
It took Jack a second to process the words. The bartender spoke so rarely that he found himself wondering if she had a second, cryptic meaning.
“Be careful,” he said. “About what?”
“It’s easy to let it get the better of you,” said Mickie. She nodded to the glass she was filling. “You don’t want to let yourself fall into unhealthy habits, when it comes to drinking.”
Jack chuckled. He was a little worried about his drinking, but not in regard to alcohol. Still, he decided to be polite and not dismiss Mickie’s concerns outright.
“You’re right,” he said. “Sometimes… I guess I don’t always feel like it’s up to me anymore when I drink. I get the urge, and I just do it.”
Like with Meghan. And almost like it had been with Martine.
“No man is immune from the craving,” said Mickie. “It’s about not putting yourself in a position to be tempted, in the first place.”
“Odd advice, coming from you,” said Jack. “But I appreciate it.”
He took a single sip from the mug she placed
in front of him, paid for both beers, and then left, abandoning the rest.
It was still early in the afternoon, and Bruce was still following him. Jack headed to a small sub shop for lunch, taking his time as he ate. He headed back to the bar once he was finished, and Mickie didn’t seem to mind him loitering around, which he appreciated.
Jack waited until it was within an hour of sunset before finally making his escape through the bar’s backdoor. He didn’t spot Bruce trailing behind him as he made his way north through town, which was a blessing, given what he expected his evening would entail.
CHAPTER 23
It was a long walk to the warehouse. Jack got a sense of how much of the island he still had yet to see as he stepped onto the dirt road that cut through the forest and led to the warehouse. He opted to walk through the trees alongside it rather than out in the open, not wanting to telegraph his approach.
He reached the warehouse just as the last rays of sun were disappearing over the horizon. The building matched the one depicted in the Polaroid photo. It was nondescript, about three stories tall with dirty windows and a grey exterior. A couple of cars were parked on the grass outside, and a single guard carrying a submachine gun was on patrol around the perimeter.
Jack hid behind a bush, considering his options. The building’s front entrance was probably too obvious of an approach for him to attempt without being spotted immediately. There was another door on the second level, a fire escape, from the looks of it. Only a drop-down ladder connected it to the ground, and it was currently pulled all the way up, limiting access.
He decided that it was still probably his best bet. He waited until the guard had gone by, and then silently stepped out of his hiding spot and jogged into position. The fire escape was in the building’s shadow, which, combined with the time of day, left Jack in enough darkness to use his blood magic.
He pulled from his blood essence, conjuring up a Spectral Hand tendril. It uncurled from his palm, moving with control and intelligence, almost like a hydra’s head made of distilled smoke, and Jack wrapped it around one of the ladder’s rungs. His intention was to use the tendril to pull the ladder loose, but there seemed to be a locking mechanism that stymied his efforts.
Instead, he took the opposite approach, using it to pull himself up. It felt a little like trying to climb a rope, but that wasn’t much of a challenge at all, with his enhanced strength. Jack made it up to the fire escape with time to spare, and quietly positioned himself outside of the door.
He used a Spectral Lockpick to trigger the tumblers of the lock and then opened the door a crack, peering through into the space beyond. The interior of the warehouse was a large, dimly lit room with a concrete floor and sheet metal walls. It was broken into several different sections that were split using dividing partitions which didn’t extend all the way up to the warehouse’s high ceiling.
Jack silently closed the door behind him and dropped down into a crouch. He had a decent vantage point from the door. A set of red metal stairs led down to the floor from the raised platform he was on, but there was little of interest on it that might have attracted attention his way.
Below him, Jack could see the operations of the gang in full swing. Around a dozen men and women were at work unloading guns and large, white blocks that Jack assumed were brick packages of drugs. From what he could tell, he’d stumbled into a processing station, a place where larger shipments of illegal goods were broken down into smaller, sellable portions.
Standing near the center of the room were three people that Jack recognized. Emanuel was in the middle of a conversation with Khumar, leaning in slightly to listen to what the shorter man was saying. Monty’s bald, hulking figure stood behind them both, scanning back and forth across the room, frowning slightly.
Jack couldn’t help but grin. He’d spent days on their trail, and now they’d presented him with the perfect opportunity. Beyond perfect. He slowly made his way down the metal stairs leading to the ground floor, keeping his eyes on Khumar and Monty.
All he needed to do was wait for a chance to attack the two of them while they were alone. As much as he disapproved of the rest of the gang’s activities, it wasn’t his responsibility to deal with them. He only cared about Khumar and Monty. Bruce and Sheriff Carter could handle the rest of them through regular legal avenues, assuming Jack anonymously tipped them off before they got a chance to pack up and leave.
Monty said something to Khumar and split off from the other two, giving Jack the chance he’d been waiting for. The room had enough shadow around its edges to make it easy for him to move without attracting attention. He was still visible, but only as a silhouette, which didn’t draw much suspicion, given how collectively busy the gang was.
He followed Monty down a hallway, pausing as the man pushed his way through a swinging door and entered a brightly lit restroom. Jack counted ten seconds, and then slipped in after him.
Monty was peeing at one of the urinals and quietly humming to himself. Jack hesitated for only a moment before conjuring his Spectral Sword and moving into position behind him. He was tempted to demand answers from the man, or even an apology on behalf of Ryoko. But that kind of thing didn’t serve much of a purpose in real life.
“Graghh!”
Monty let out a surprised gargle as Jack slammed his sword through the man’s back. He reached around with both hands, as though the ethereal blade impaling him were a bee sting that he could scratch at.
Jack pulled the sword free, giving Monty a chance to turn around and see him as he died. The bald giant’s eyes went wide with shock. Jack pictured Ryoko in his mind as she’d been when he’d found her. Arms around her legs, rocking back and forth by her uncle’s body. Captured and stripped naked by two disgusting, heartless human beings.
Jack slashed his sword across Monty’s face, splattering blood onto the bathroom wall. He cut again, and again. And again. He made the bathroom into a mess of red, and when he glanced at the gore-coated mirror along the sink, he could just barely see his reflection underneath. His face did not look like the face of someone who’d just done what he’d done.
Monty remained on his feet for longer than Jack had been expecting before taking a wavering step and collapsing to the ground. Jack wondered if Monty would have even been recognizable after what he’d just done to him, if not for his size and distinctive features.
“Monty?” shouted a voice from outside. “Was that you?”
Footsteps approached the bathroom. Jack licked his lips, feeling an excited and borderline euphoric glow from the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He felt comfortable, almost scarily so. There was no fear, no uncertainty. No guilt.
Jack smashed the bathroom’s overhead light with his sword before dismissing the weapon, leaving himself and his handiwork hidden by the darkness. He moved over to the bathroom’s corner near the sinks, almost directly behind the door. Then he waited.
Someone entered the bathroom after a few more seconds.
“Monty?” called a voice. “Are you in here?”
Jack fought back his first impulse. His killing impulse. No, he was only there for Khumar and Monty. As criminal as the rest of the people in the warehouse might be, he had no real quarrel with them beyond their association to his targets. He would only kill them if they got in his way.
Instead, Jack focused his blood essence into his newest spell. Casting Shadow Form felt more comfortable in the dark, during the night. It still took a significant portion of his essence reserves, but he managed to pull it off.
Jack felt his physical body disintegrate and become insubstantial, almost as though it were a cross between shadow and smoke. He could still think, and he could still feel himself, in a sense of the word, but he was loose and ethereal. It reminded him of the dreams he had about other people, the ones where he was watching a scene from nowhere and everywhere at once.
He slipped out of the bathroom, traveling along the shadows of the hallway. He heard a deep, bloodcurdling sc
ream from behind him. Whoever had entered the bathroom had probably turned on a flashlight and discovered the horror scene within. Jack almost felt bad for them.
He glanced back toward the center of the room in time to see Emanuel splitting off from Khumar and heading in the direction of the disturbance. A tingling sensation ran up Jack’s neck. He could do it now. He could get to Khumar and finish it, if he was quick enough.
“What is this all about?” shouted Emanuel. He walked almost right by Jack on his way toward the bathroom. “Did someone… Jesus Christ.”
Jack was already moving into position. He wished he’d thought to bring a ranged weapon, like Katie’s crossbow, but he could make do without. He would need to drop in, execute Khumar with a single stab, and then sprint for the warehouse’s exit, possibly fading back into Shadow Form on the way.
An alarm sounded, catching him off-guard. A few dozen red lights in the warehouse’s ceiling turned on, and the normal ones switched off. The effect left the room bathed in an eerie, crimson light, which unfortunately was more evenly distributed than the room’s regular illumination. Shadow Form was no longer an option for Jack, even around the edges.
He fell back into his physical form, marveling a little at the strange sensation. It felt as though his entire body had fallen asleep, and sharp tingles danced over his skin and through his muscles.
Jack was behind one of the room’s partitions, comfortably hidden, but only for the time being. He crouched low and tried to hurry toward the main entrance as the chaos begin. A gang member beat him there, taking up position with an automatic rifle and aiming a little too casually at his peers as they passed by.
Jack swore under his breath. He found a chance to sneak back to his hiding spot behind the partition, but he could hear Emanuel shouting orders over the whine of the building’s alarm system.
Shadow Form (Dark Impulse Book 2) Page 13