Nightfall

by Douglas, Penelope

  But Emmy clarified, “My grandfather. Her husband. She thinks I’m my mother sometimes.”

  I nodded once, not really knowing what to say to that. It was a lot for a high schooler to deal with. In this moment, I was grateful she spared me any time, considering the bigger things she had on her plate. I was too hard on her.

  We entered her room, and I turned on the lights.

  But she protested, “No, leave them off.” She made her way for her bed. “I’m so tired.”

  She crashed down, not even bothering to undress, and I flipped the switch off again, the room going dark.

  “But I don’t want to sleep, either,” she said, yawning again. “Because when the night’s over, it ends. No more fun.”

  I walked over, unable to keep the smile off my lips. “Nothing is ending.” I pulled at her comforter and then the blankets, working them out from underneath her to cover her up. “It wasn’t just fun to me, Emmy. Don’t you know that?”

  I stared down at her as she turned on her side, and I covered her up.

  We weren’t done. I needed more.

  “You still don’t trust me?” I asked.

  She remained still and quiet, refusing to look at me. Was she asleep already?

  But then I heard her speak. “Part of me wishes I could have you,” she said. “Part of me wishes you were my man, but…”

  I heard her swallow, and then she sighed.

  “Everything will be real tomorrow,” she told me.

  As if that explained everything.

  Walking over to her window, I closed her drapes.

  “Someday you’ll be big and powerful,” she continued.

  I turned to see her sitting up in bed and punching the pillows behind her, trying to get them to the right fluffiness.

  “Like I am now?” I teased.

  “And stunning in a three-piece suit with fabulous hair,” she went on, thinking out loud like I wasn’t even here.

  “I look better wet.”

  “And everyone will love you.” She plopped back onto her pillows, lying on her back.

  “They already do.”

  “And you’ll be the life of the party.”

  I walked over, straightening her blankets and biting back my smile. “Mm-hmm.”

  “With little magazine-cover looking children.”

  “My sperm will be the stuff of legends,” I joked.

  “And married…”

  “Several times, I’m sure.”

  “And to all blondes.”

  My body shook with a laugh as I leaned over her, smelling her and me on her skin and dying to crawl into this bed with her.

  But she was done for the night.

  “And the only time you’ll notice I’m alive,” she went on, “is when you sign the checks, paying my dog-walking service for taking care of your labradoodles every week.”

  “Like a busy, important, fabulous god like me would be bothered with such tasks?” I retorted. “My eighteen-year-old former Playboy-bunny wife, Heidi, will sign those checks.”

  A snarl flashed on her mouth, and I snorted.

  “You’re going to remember this, Will Grayson,” she said, sounding all tough. “I blew your mind tonight. Even for just a minute.”

  She turned over, giving me her back, and I smiled, smoothing the hair off her face and neck.

  You’ve been blowing my mind for forever.

  “Now, get out of here,” she said, nudging me playfully and closing her eyes.

  I stared down at her, the shadows of the trees outside dancing across her back, and my body hummed, wanting more of her.

  She was incredible, and I hated that no one saw how beautiful she was except me. I’d been dying in that bus and fucking happy for it.

  Her body moved in slow, steady breaths, and I watched her lips meet, so softly time and again with each breath.

  “I love you,” I murmured.

  She didn’t shift or open her eyes, the exhaustion taking over as she sank deeper and deeper into sleep.

  Standing up straight, I stepped away, but then I dropped my eyes to her back, seeing the bruises and scrapes.

  How did she paint her back? Did her brother help her?

  I doubted it.

  Squatting down, I leaned in closer, studying the marks on her arm and back with the little moonlight streaming in through the sheer curtains.

  Licking my thumb, I rubbed at the dark purple one with red around it, but…

  The makeup didn’t rub off.

  I narrowed my eyes, licking my thumb again and rubbing harder.

  But then she whimpered, shifting away from me like it hurt.

  I rubbed my finger against my thumb, not feeling any grease or oil from the makeup, either.

  I stopped and looked up at her face, studying the drop of blood coming down from her eyebrow she said was part of her costume.

  Heat filled my veins, and my pulse echoed in my ears as my mind raced.

  The bruises on her legs that I saw in the swimming pool…

  The bruise on her leg in lit class.

  The overly baggy clothes and how she hardly ever showed skin.

  Rising up, I stared down at her, tempted to drag her out of this bed.

  But it was late, and she needed sleep.

  Tonight was Devil’s Night. I’d let her rest for now.

  Because later today I was going to find out what the fuck was going on once and for all.

  Emory

  Present

  I pulled back, staring down at her face to make sure she was real.

  Alex… I smiled from ear to ear. “Oh, my God.”

  “Shh,” she hissed, glancing at the door. “I know. I know. But don’t start celebrating. Neither of us is saved yet.”

  She shot off the bed and hurried to the door, listening for something, and then whipped around, running into the bathroom.

  I stared after her as she filled a glass with water and drank it down. Where the hell did she come from?

  Did…? How…?

  And then I caught sight of the portrait on the wall. The massive, framed painting of a little girl and her corgis frolicking in some garden hung open like a door.

  A secret passage.

  I smiled to myself. I guess I didn’t need that screwdriver after all.

  Walking back out, she pulled her hat off her head and smiled at me with her full lips and white teeth. She’d cut her hair. The A-line, shoulder-length bob curtained her long neck, strands hanging in her face and over her beautiful eyes, her green a shade darker than Will’s.

  “How are you here?” I asked, taking in her tight jeans that were a lot more practical than the dress pants I’d arrived in, and her fitted, brown leather jacket that matched her rubber-soled brown leather boots.

  She was dressed to run. Dirt scuffed her jaw, and she pulled off her gloves, black gunk embedded under her nails.

  And then I registered what she had said a moment ago, my spine straightening. She’d watched us in the drawing room last night?

  She’d been here, hiding. For at least a day.

  I shot off the bed. “Did you put me here?”

  I pinched my eyebrows together, anger suddenly replacing the relief I’d just felt.

  But her eyes darted to mine. “No,” she said, knitting her brow. “God, no. I promise. I have no idea why you’re here.”

  “Then why are you here?” I demanded, tightening the towel around me. “How…where did you come from? How did you know about the secret passageways? Where are we?”

  I had too many questions, and the confusion from when I’d arrived started to bubble up again. No one had any answers.

  She opened the painting wider and leaned down, pulling out a black duffle bag. Walking over, she dug out some clothes and handed them to me, remaining silent.

  I looked down at the jeans and long-sleeved black T and...

  Yes. Underwear and a bra.

  She’d packed for this. She knew she was coming here, unlike me.


  I swallowed, staring at her. “Alex?”

  Why wasn’t she talking?

  She shuffled the stuff in her bag, refusing to look at me.

  “Alex.”

  Finally, she said in a low voice, “We’re on an island. In North America.”

  “Canada?”

  She hesitated.

  “Where in North America?” I pressed. “East Coast, West Coast, New England…?”

  But she just spun around, taking her canteen into the bathroom and refilling it.

  An island…

  Was it deserted? Was it near the mainland? Shit. There were millions of islands out there.

  “Alex?” I barked.

  Goddammit.

  But she whisper-yelled at me. “Emmy, shut up.”

  I glanced at the door again, remembering we had a house full of men on the other side who didn’t know she was here.

  And even though I was glad she was, she wasn’t putting me at ease.

  I don’t know why you’re here, she’d said. So she knew why she was here, then?

  “How long have you been here?” I demanded.

  How long had she been hiding in the walls? I heard those sounds the night I arrived. She hadn’t been hiding that long, right?

  But even as the thought occurred to me, I watched her eyes shift as she filled her bottle, and the fury boiled over.

  “I arrived on the shipment like you,” she said in a low voice.

  I charged over, grabbed her water bottle, and threw it. I fisted her collar and shoved her away, growling. She stumbled backward, tripped over the toilet, and fell onto the ground, landing on her ass. She broke the fall with her hands and her eyes flew up to me.

  “What the hell is the matter with you?” I gritted out as quietly as I could. “Do you have any idea what could’ve happened to me?”

  All this time. She’d been watching all of us. What the hell was going on?

  She breathed hard, but she never blinked. She knew she’d fucked up.

  “You’ve been hiding in the walls,” I pointed out. “It didn’t occur to you at some point to grab me, too?”

  “Of course, it did,” she said, climbing to her feet again and picking up her bottle. “It just got complicated.”

  I closed the distance between us and swatted her about fifteen times lightly in the chest. Goddamn her.

  “Are you hitting my boobs?” She batted at my hands. “Seriously.”

  I didn’t know what was going on, and while I was momentarily grateful not to be as alone as I thought, I had no doubt she had the answers I wanted and was refusing to give them to me.

  This was bullshit.

  She caught her breath, and I stood there, not at all scared if she decided to hit me back.

  But she didn’t. She just cocked an eyebrow, saying, “Save it for the plutocrats. You need me.”

  I stood there, about ready to hit her again, but she was right. I had a much better chance of getting out of here with her.

  She refilled the water bottle that I’d spilled when I threw it, and I stalked back into the bedroom, throwing on the underwear and bra she gave me. I didn’t put on the clothes yet, because if I faced the guys again, they’d wonder where I got them.

  I pulled on Aydin’s Oxford and tied up my wet hair into a ponytail with a rubber band I’d snatched from the asparagus in the fridge.

  “Listen…” Alex entered the room, stuffed the bottle into the bag and tossed the duffle into the passageway again. “We guessed Will was sent here several months ago—maybe a year or more, we don’t know exactly. He’d been using and drinking, and we figured with his grandfather’s re-election coming up, Senator Grayson took matters into his own hands before Will became a liability.”

  A year… So, he had been here that long. At least.

  “We couldn’t get him out because no one would tell us where it was,” she told me, “but we could get someone in.”

  Me?

  But no. She said she didn’t know why I was here.

  So, that meant they sent her?

  “Michael, Kai, Damon…” I rattle off, “and they sent you?”

  She stared at me, but the hesitation in her eyes said it all.

  “No,” she finally admitted. “Michael was coming. I… I micked him before the pick-up.”

  I narrowed my eyes. She roofied him? “Why?” I searched for words. “Alex, why would you volunteer for this? A woman would be in so much more danger. It’s crazy.”

  Her gaze faltered, and she didn’t answer me. Why would she put herself in such unnecessary risk when anyone could’ve come for Will?

  Unless…

  Unless she loved him.

  That was the only reason she’d come in Michael Crist’s place. She thought only she’d be able to bring Will home.

  My stomach coiled and jealousy rolled through me, making my heart pound. It was my place to save him. Not hers.

  But it was ridiculous for me to have such a thought, I knew that.

  I was jealous, though. I knew their history and I liked Alex—more than I wanted to—but somehow it hadn’t hurt until now, because she just had this way about her that made you all warm and want to be wherever she was. It was impossible to hate her.

  And I’d been kind of glad he had her at his side. As long as I didn’t let myself wonder if she was better for him. If she made him happy.

  But now I couldn’t keep the thought from my mind.

  She’d come for him. I hadn’t.

  She was better for him.

  I opened my mouth. “Alex, I—”

  But she pressed her finger to her lips. “Shhh.”

  The hallway outside my door creaked, and she grabbed my hand, pulling me into the secret passageway.

  She closed the painting, and we stood there quietly as she dug in the bag at our feet for something.

  “Do they know about the passageways?” I asked quietly.

  “I don’t think so,” she told me. “I’ve been able to skulk around undetected.”

  “Seems weird,” I said. “There’s a secret room off Aydin’s bedroom with a two-way mirror. They should suspect there’s more disguised rooms and tunnels.”

  She rose, and then I heard a winding, the rechargeable flashlight illuminating as she pulled out a large, folded-up piece of paper that looked like a map.

  I dropped my eyes, noticing it wasn’t paper. Not normal paper, anyway.

  I grabbed it from her, the feel instantly familiar. It was vellum. This was a blueprint.

  How did…? Where…? I snatched her flashlight and turned away to inspect the plans.

  “If I’m being punked, I’m going to kill you,” I hissed, studying the floor plan. “If this is someone’s idea of a prank, and we’re in Thunder Bay…”

  “And they imported that waterfall you saw outside?” she spat out. “Think, Em.”

  She snatched the blueprints and flashlight out of my hands and walked past me, down the tunnel. I couldn’t help but glare at her back as she flipped over the folded document in her hand and studied it while we walked.

  No, there wasn’t a waterfall in Thunder Bay. But there were plenty throughout New England and possibly more on the hundreds of islands dotting the coast.

  I needed to see that blueprint again. I could read it a hell of a lot faster than she could.

  A faint light caught my eye, and I stopped. “Alex…” I whispered, inching toward the wall and closer to the light. “What’s the plan here?”

  If we were on an island, she had to have a boat or someone airlifting us out of here. I guessed she had some kind of tracker on her so they knew where to come.

  “I have a satellite phone,” she told me. “The cavalry is on its way.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “The Horsemen,” she clarified. “They tracked me when I was transported here. We just need to hang on.”

  Hang on?

  “It’s been days,” I bit out in her face. “I could’ve gotten to China and back by
now! Twice! Have you even talked to them? How do you know for sure they tracked you? Satellite phones use a lot of power. You would have to keep it turned on for them to track you.”

  “Or make a call,” she retorted.

  I narrowed my eyes. “You called them?”

  “Yes.”

  “And they’re coming?”

  “Yes.”

  My shoulders relaxed a little, but still…something concerned me. “Have you talked to them recently?” I asked.

  Her eyes sharpened, and she studied me. “Why?”

  “It’s been too long,” I told her. “They should’ve been here by now. When was the last time you spoke to them?”

  She shifted on her feet, looking hesitant. “The night we arrived,” she murmured.

  I closed my eyes, turning away. “Shit,” I said under my breath.

  “It’s fine, Emory.” Her tone was firm and decisive. “They’re traveling, there’s been storms, and I haven’t been able to use the phone at times because I was afraid of being heard. They’ll be here.”

  When? One day? Eight more days?

  We needed to leave now. Make it to the coast and wait for the boat. Anything could happen, and I still didn’t know who dumped me here, but it was only a matter of time before the shit hit the fan.

  She walked down the passageway, and I spotted slits and holes in the concrete, light from the rooms on the other side streaming through.

  “What do you know about these guys?” I asked.

  All I knew was what they’d wanted me to know.

  “Stay away from Taylor,” she said, flashing her light ahead. “And stay away from Aydin Khadir.”

  Wow, better late than never.

  I pulled her to a stop and looked at her. “Why?”

  She sighed and pulled out of my hold, continuing down the tunnel. “Micah is harmless unless you hurt Rory,” she told me. “Rory Geardon…”

  “Killed people,” I finished for her.

  But she stopped and peered through a peephole, whispering, “His twin sister was born with cerebral palsy. She was confined to a wheelchair. One night, a small party of teenagers broke into their house and brutalized her.” She peered over at me. “And I mean, brutalized her.”

  I stopped breathing for a moment, remembering his story. And one by one, he sank them to the bottom of a lake and drowned them.