by Faulks, Kim
My steps stilled. The open field in sight at the edge of the tree line. I sucked in a breath, glanced over my shoulder and then raced ahead.
The middle of the field was blackened and charred. My feet slammed into the ground, finding hard stones and broken twigs. Pain flared through my feet, dragging me back to that night all those years ago.
“Spark!”
“Elizabeth!”
They screamed my name into the wind as I skirted the edge of the trees and lunged for home. Outside lights flickered through the trees as I neared. I shoved though the branches to stop at the driveway.
It was empty.
Cars were gone, front door was wide open.
“Dad!” I screamed and lunged toward it.
Agony stabbed the soles of my feet as I raced across the pebbles and scurried up the stairs.
“Elizabeth! Don’t go in there!”
My heart was racing, the roar of it filling my head. The gunmen cowering outside were gone…blood drops on the floor, leading into the house. I stepped closer, and pushed the door. “Dad?”
The foyer was empty, a pool of crimson on the ground. White lights glaring in my eyes. Thunder in my chest was all I could hear now…the ticking silent as the grave. “D-Dad…”
I moved toward the kitchen and glanced at the overturned dining room chair. Steps echoed on the landing behind me, and then in the foyer. Goosebumps raced across my skin as I stepped inside.
Mona was slumped in the corner, the front of her chest soaked with blood.
“Elizabeth.” The southern accent filled my ears.
I blinked back tears, and swallowed my pain. “They took him. They took my dad.”
“That’s what I was trying to tell you.” Softer, more careful words.
I turned to stare at them, three strangers in my home. A lump wedged in my throat. I swallowed, and swallowed again. Still my voice was husky and raw. “What do you want from me?”
There was a flinch. One man shifted from one foot to the other. The guy with the southern accent took a slow step forward. There was torture in his eyes. “I don’t want anything, Elizabeth. I just want to...”
“Spark,” the other guy said…my protector. Deep blue eyes seized me. He dragged his hand high and combed back dark hair. “She goes by Spark. I’m Pitch,” he murmured. “Adrian’s my real name.”
“Finley,” the guy with the accent murmured and then jerked his head toward the last guy standing beside him. “This is Mavi.”
He was beautiful. Cherokee features and sullen dark eyes. I sucked in a breath as Finley moved forward slowly toward me. “You’re okay.” He lifted a hand. “But you’re hurt.”
I flinched at the words and looked down. My hands were blistered and raw, blood dripped onto the floor.
“Will you let us help you?”
I shook my head and glanced at the blood. I didn’t know these guys. Didn’t need these guys. I took a step backwards and glanced at the ceramic knife block against the wall on kitchen counter.
There was a hollowness inside me, an aching emptiness. The storm had broken inside me, and this was all that was left. Don’t trust them. Don’t trust anyone.
“You want to run, then run,” Finley murmured and stepped to the side. “No one’s gonna stop you.”
He glanced at Mona’s body and then the pool of blood on the floor in the foyer. “But whatever happened here isn’t over. You need time to process this, think about this logically and come up with a plan. We can help you.”
One glance at Pitch and the guy nodded. “Or I can at least watch you around him.”
Pitch’s nod turned savage. He jerked his gaze toward Finley, brows narrowed, and top lip curled. “You think I don’t see what you’re up to? I can hear your kind coming from a mile away. You don’t go anywhere with her, without me.”
They bickered. They snarled, and I just stood there, heart bleeding like my hands. “Get out.”
Their snarling words fell silent. I lifted my head. “Get the fuck out. All of you, get the fuck out of my home.”
I rounded the bench, hands burning as I smashed into the wooden block, spilling the knives free. My fingers wouldn’t open or close. I gripped the handle any way that I could.
Panic was rising, like I’d held my breath for too long even though air rushed through my lungs. My world was darkening. Light bled out at the edges, narrowing in to them.
“She’s having a panic attack,” someone said.
I shook my head, the knife trembling in my grasp. An ache flared across my chest, the kitchen…darkening…turning grey.
“Hey!” Finley called out as my thighs trembled, knees locked and then let go.
Air rushed against my face. Strong hands found me as the knife clattered to the floor. Shadows swept in, stealing me away.
“Hey!”
“Whoa there. You’re okay.”
Faded voices called me. Hands cradled me. Warmth was all around me. Something cool against my neck.
Do not move. You understand me? Do not touch me. Don’t talk to me, don’t turn your head toward me. You make one move toward me and I’ll shoot. Do you understand?
Memories slipped in, and that sickening scent of cologne followed. My stomach churned, acid spilled into the back of my throat. I jerked open my eyes, and shoved upright. My heart slamming in my ears.
They were all around me, closing in.
“You’re okay.” Pitch lifted his hands from my arm. “You’re safe. You’re okay.”
I threw feeble punches as they crowded in. Someone caught my fists and leaned closer, holding them against his chest.
“You’re okay.” Kind words…soft words.
Air rushed in, still my world was grey. The tap in the kitchen rushed, heavy footsteps followed.
The rim of a glass pressed to my lips. “Drink,” he commanded.
I lifted my gaze, staring into the depths of his eyes. Pitch nodded, urging me again. “It’s okay, take a drink.”
Cold crested my lips and slid down my throat. Clarity followed, rushing headlong to paint my world red. I lifted my hand, grasping his as he tilted the glass.
“Easy now,” he murmured as I gulped until it was gone.
Harsh gasps filled my ears. They stared at me, these three strangers in my home—they stared at me like I knew what to do.
Mom was out there, laying in the middle of the burned field. She stared up at the sky, lost…alone…dead—because of me. All I wanted was to fall apart, to beg and plead and scream. The sounds were trapped in the back of my throat, just waiting to be set free.
“We can help you.” Finley eased back onto the balls of his feet as he crouched in front of me. “If you tell us what you need.”
I needed my mom. I needed my dad. I needed the ticking in my head to return, then maybe I’d wake up—maybe I’d be okay. “They took him. They took my dad.”
“We can track them,” Pitch murmured, his hand still clasped the glass beneath mine. “I can track them…or, I can at least try.”
My heart sped with the thought. “You can sense them?”
“Hear,” he answered. “I can hear everything. People, animals…the earth.”
“Jesus,” Finley muttered with the hint of a smirk. “No wonder you’re a douche. Can you hear next weeks lottery numbers being rigged? I want in on that.”
There was a wince as Pitch pulled away. I let the glass go with him. “Imagine hearing someone’s Mom dying. Imagine hearing a man beat his wife. Imagine, if you can…a child crying from hunger, or in pain.”
The smile died on Finley’s lips, and a coldness moved into his eyes.
He understood now—understood the cruelty of never shutting off, of never not hearing every sadness, and every scream…
He shoved up from the floor to stand. “I can become anyone. You want The Rock?” His features shimmered, expanding and growing as he morphed into another. Hard jaw, seductive lips. He raised one brow, before in a breath the illusion dropped. “I can be anyone.”
&
nbsp; Sadness echoed in those words. The kind of sadness that came with the black numbers on the inside of a wrist.
“I feel boring compared to that. All I can conjure is a storm. Black clouds thick enough to hide you, and protect you. With us, Spark, you’re safe. You want to run? Then we’ll run. Wherever you want to go. All you have to do is say the words.”
I sucked in a breath and stared. Pitch. Finley…what was the other one? “I’ve forgotten your name.”
He took a step closer, and bent at the knee. “I’m Mavi…Mavi Parker, and I’ve been searching for you for years.”
“We all have,” Pitch murmured. “You are the constant for me. The only one I hear above everything and everyone else.”
“So, say what you need.” Mavi rose and held out his hand. “And we’ll use everything we have to make it yours.”
I stared at his waiting hand. But what I wanted, they couldn’t give me. “My mom…” I glanced toward the door. “She’s out there, in the field.”
Finley followed my gaze. “Is she hiding?”
But it was Pitch who answered. “I can’t hear anything.”
Trust. The word roared once more. I’d trusted once, trusted two strangers not to hurt me, and instead I was the one who hurt them. I lifted my hand and grasped Mavi’s.
The room swayed as I rose and answered, “She’s dead.” She’s dead because of me. But the words wouldn’t come.
“I’m sorry,” Pitch murmured.
Finley glanced toward the door. “Jesus and we what…we grabbed you?”
“We thought you were being attacked.” Mavi glanced toward Pitch. “We didn’t know.”
I dropped his hand and made for the front door. “I don’t want to be here.”
“With us, or in this place?” Finley followed me as I stepped up to the foyer.
Chris will know what to do. We can go to him. He’ll take us to the girl.
Mom’s voice filled me as I stumbled toward the open door and stared at the empty drive. “I don’t know. I just want to bring her home. I don’t want her out there.”
A shudder raced through my body and welled in my chest.
“Will you let us do this?” Finley stepped close. His fingers brushed the back of my arm, tearing a shudder free. I swallowed the need to flinch.
“We’ll take care of her, I promise.”
I let them leave. Let them sweep past me as they walked out the door. No, stop. You don’t know her…she’s mine. The words rebounded inside my head as their boots crunched over the gravel driveway.
Then they were gone, slipping through the trees. There were no sounds, no words; nothing to track them. I gripped the door and waited.
The pool of blood on the foyer floor called me. I glanced over my shoulder and the words crowded in. They’ll torture him. Find out what they want to know—and when they realize he doesn’t know anything, then they’ll kill him.
Panic rose, knotting and pounding at the base of my neck. Dad was bleeding, hurt…alone. Just like I’d been alone.
You’ll be a good girl, won’t you? My little sleeper cell…
The knot flared, driving the ache into my head. Sleeper cell. That’s what he called me. I glanced toward the trees and the darkness. That’s what I was.
Movement came through the trees. I backed away from the panic as Mavi came into view, followed by Finley as he carried Mom in his arms. Long strides ate the distance between us.
My heart pounded with the sight.
Pitch was behind them. His bare chest glistened as he moved. I stilled at the sight, and then glanced to Mom. He’d draped his shirt across her body, covering her breasts.
He lifted his head as they cut across the pebbles and made for the house. Deep blue eyes seized me as Mavi climbed the stairs.
Mom’s head rolled backwards, eyes still open, staring into the night as Finley carried her through the doorway. I reached out, grasping her hand and then murmured, “Her bed, she should be in her bed.”
Cold fingers slipped from mine as I turned and made for the hallway. My fingers skimmed the wooden frame as I passed.
It felt like yesterday that I was nine years old and hugging the doorframe, too terrified to step out to where they waited, the day after they found me.
But it was a lifetime. Those memories haunted me as I passed the open door to my bedroom and slowed at the end of the hall.
I hardly went in here, only to see Dad. A stone was wedged in the back of my throat, bruising and scraping as I stepped inside. White plush comforter and navy blue pillows. I stared at the indents their suitcases had left behind.
That was today.
Hours ago.
I stepped closer, skimmed my fingers along the top of the duvet as Finley stepped around the end of the bed and placed her gently into the middle. Her skin was so pale, as though the energy had sucked her life away.
“We’ll give you some time,” Pitch murmured beside me. “But we’ll be right out there if you need anything.”
“You mind if we help ourselves to the fridge?” Finley asked as they stepped toward the doorway.
I shook my head, staring at her. She was gone. And yet that voice whispered…Please just get up. Mom, I need you to tell me what to do.
Pale eyes stared into nothing. I took a step closer and then sat on the edge of the bed. “I need you.”
And with the pain came the words Mom had spoken all those years ago as she stood on the podium and addressed President Johnathan Harper. It’s this drive that Lakeside has that pushed me to be here, well, one of the reasons anyway. The other reason is my daughter. My miracle, who found me.
Tears slipped free, carving a line down my cheek as I closed my eyes. “P-please, Mom. I need you to tell me what to do. Just tell me…”
Give it to them! Dad’s scream filled me. Leah, for Christ’s sake, tell them what they want to know!
Cold fingers lay lifeless on the bed. I grasped her hand and ran my thumb over her knuckles, just like Dad used to do to me…used to. Those words wedged the lump tighter in the back of my throat.
They’d cover his head, handcuff him, just like they did me.
If I breathed hard, I could still feel the fabric over my mouth, pulling tight as I inhaled. Plastic ties binding my wrists. The more he struggled, the more they’d hurt.
Find him…
I wrenched open my eyes.
Save him…
My pulse sped with the thought as I lifted my hands to stare at the blisters and blood on my palms. Could I do it? Could I track them down? And then what? Thunder growled somewhere inside me.
Could I kill out of revenge, or out of anger? Cold clarity was a lightning strike, carving through that lost and lonely girl. I stared at Mom, laying there, and then leaned over and kissed her cheek. For her I would’ve killed them all. “I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough. I hope you can forgive me.”
I left her there and turned. My heart was pounding as I strode into the hall and headed for the kitchen. A plate scraped across the counter, but they were quiet, and when I entered all heads turned to me.
I glanced at Pitch, and then Finley and Mavi last. I didn’t know these men…I barely even knew their names, and here I was asking for more than they should want to give. “I’m going after them, and I’m hoping you’ll come with me.”
“Fuck yeah,” Finley growled. “About damn time.”
Pitch rose from the barstool at the end of the counter. “I was hoping you’d come around.”
Mavi just lifted his hand, drained his glass of juice and headed for the refrigerator
“We’ll grab some food for the road.” Finley glanced to Pitch. “You can track these bastards, right?”
“I can do my best. If they’re driving we have a good chance to catch up…otherwise…”
I didn’t need him to finish. I understood all too well what he meant. “I’ll grab my stuff and meet you outside.”
My body was trembling, like a fever that wouldn’t break. If they were fly
ing we’d never track them. Any other man, maybe…but not a US Senator’s husband—not my dad.
I spun from the kitchen and raced for my room where I grabbed a bag from my wardrobe. A few sets of clothes and we’d be gone, racing after them.
I gripped the drawer and yanked. Something wedged tight inside, jamming the drawer. There was no give, even when I shoved and then pulled again. “Come on!”
Like something was in there. I reached inside and probed underneath, until I brushed cold metal teeth. A key. My breath caught as I dug harder, pinching the edges with my fingers.
“Ah, Spark,” Finley murmured and stepped into the doorway. “We need to get going.”
I jerked my gaze toward the doorway. “Can you help me with this?”
He stepped inside my room, stopping at the drawer.
“There’s a key, something Mom hid. She made me promise not to tell anyone. I think it’s something important, something about us.”
Finley’s forehead creased, still he slipped his hand inside the drawer and reached underneath.
“It’s up top, wedged tight,” I said.
“I got it, stand back. I might have to break the drawer.” His jaw clenched with the effort as he gripped the wood with one hand and yanked.
The drawer gave way with a crunch, before he shoved once more and then reached inside. Pain flared on his face as he worked the edge and it finally gave way with a ping. The brass key was in his hand as he pulled free. “This what you were after?”
I stepped closer, taking it from his open palm. “The key to Mom’s safe. She hid it from my dad.”
Concern flared in his brown eyes. “Doesn’t sound like something a wife would do. Unless she had something valuable to hide.”
My fingers trembled as I raced from my bedroom and along the hall. Heavy footsteps followed as I stepped inside and scanned the room.
I hit the light and blinked. The place was a mess. Old case folders were stacked in piles across her desk. Certificates in their frames in a jumble in the corner. Papers were scattered across every available surface.
I glanced to the open hallway door and then skirted the corner of her desk. “There’s a safe hidden here somewhere.”
Finley jerked his head up and turned toward me. One brow rose with a look of disgust and terror. “Really?”