by H. D. Gordon
I crept across the wooden dock, out over the dark, cold water of the bay. Crouching low, my pulse beating strong in my neck, I sidled up alongside the boat. It was a twenty-footer, and the name Scarlett was written across the starboard side in red paint.
Committing the name to memory for further examination later, I took a deep breath and crouched. Then I leapt onto the boat and landed on the polished deck with a small thud, ready to knock someone out with my staff if need be.
But the deck was empty. My strong ears, however, told me that the bottom of the boat was not. In fact, as I held my breath and focused on my hearing, I could tell there were multiple people below. More than a boat this size was meant to hold, anyway.
Most people would agree that now would be a good time to get out of there, being that I was so outnumbered, but I was not most people, and instead of fleeing, I stood beside the closed door that led to the lower part of the boat, and waited.
Just as I’d anticipated, the door opened and another creepy dude in a black jacket stepped out. Before he could turn around, I hit him hard in the back of his knees, sending him to the deck. A good knock on his head rendered him same as the other two.
A moment later, another male voice called up from the stairway. “What’s going on up there, Jimmy?”
Of course, Jimmy could not respond, and I waited once more as Tweedle-Dum made his way up from the boat’s belly. When he reached the top, he paused, looking down at his partner before reaching for his gun.
A sharp swing of my staff had him efficiently dispatched. I resisted the urge to jump into the air like a dork. I’d forgotten how amazing it was to be doing what I’d been trained to do. The feeling evaporated an instant later, however, as the sounds and smells and feelings from below flowed out at me, hitting me like a hurricane.
I had to swallow twice before I could get myself to move forward. I’d known this would not be good, but my gut told me that whatever was going on here was worse than that. My gut told me that whatever I was about to find below would change things somehow, like the opening of a door, or the burning of a boundary.
When no other stooges wandered up to the deck, I took a deep breath and started down the dark staircase toward the belly below.
***
The dark has never bothered me. For one thing, my night vision is sharper than a human’s, and for another, I didn’t fear the creatures that walked the shadows, because the world I’d lived in dragged them into the light, making them truths rather than myths, knowns rather than unknowns.
But this dark was different. This dark was permeated with black feelings—terror, heartache, anger, and perhaps worst of all, resignation. So when I reached the bottom of the boat, my feet meeting the floor and my heart pounding in my chest, it would be a lie to say that the cacophony of emotions didn’t affect me.
Later, I would begrudgingly admit to myself that had someone attacked me in that moment, I would have been a goner. As it was, no one made a move.
I took a step forward, and walked into something, doing a startled karate chop in the darkness, knocking the thing out of my face as one might when walking through a surprise spider web.
When I regained a hold of myself, I straightened out of my crouched stance and gripped the chain hanging from the ceiling—which was what I’d walked into. Giving it a small pull, a light bulb popped on over my head, illuminating the cramped, smelly space.
Nothing in all the training the Peace Brokers had given me could prepare me for what I saw.
And if I had to put a pin in the point of no return, it would probably go right about here.
CHAPTER 27
“Oh my God,” I heard myself say, and snapped my mouth shut right after. Somehow the utterance felt inappropriate and ridiculous.
Several sets of terrified eyes stared back at me. There had to be nearly two-dozen of them, all young women. Cloth gags were shoved into their mouths, makeup running down their faces, hair a mess atop their heads.
Further study showed their hands bound behind their backs, the smell of their fear and sweat rolling over me in noxious waves.
“Oh my God,” I said again, not meaning to, the words just falling out on their own.
“Seriously, Aria, I’m losing my shit over here!” Sam said in my ear. “What the hell is going on?”
Reaching into my jacket pocket, I removed my pocketknife, flipping up the blade. “Call the police, Coach,” I said to Sam, using her codename and not feeling as stupid about it as I’d thought I would. The situation was far too serious for jest. “Give them my location. Tell them…” I paused.
Tell them what? There’s a bunch of women tied up on a boat named Scarlett? I swallowed, repeating this thought to Sam, who grew silent, then did as I asked.
The women were looking at me distrustfully, and I wondered what I must look like to them. I was a hooded teenager wearing a black mask and carrying a staff, and I’d just busted in on their likely kidnapping.
“It’s okay,” I told them. “I’m here to help.”
I had to use a little of my suggestion voodoo, but the women wanted to trust me, and after I untied a few of them and instructed them to help the others, I turned to go. I needed to get out of there before the police arrived, and I wanted to use the bindings I’d just removed from the women to bound the four jackasses unconscious outside.
“Wait a minute,” said one of the women, peering at me, trying to get a look at my concealed face, no doubt. “Who are you?”
“Told ya you needed a codename,” Sam mumbled in my ear.
Ignoring her, I said, “I’m nobody,” and started up the stairs. “You’re safe now, ladies. The police are on the way.”
Making quick work of tying up the four guys I’d taken out, I blew the top off that Popsicle stand, climbing back in through my apartment window ten minutes later. My pulse was running so fast that it took me a minute to catch my breath, during which Sam only sat atop my bed, staring at me.
“Dude,” I said.
Sam blinked at me behind her thick-rimmed glasses, the laptop still open on her lap. “You’re telling me,” she said. “First thing tomorrow, I’m picking up a small camera so that I can have eyes out there. Hearing this stuff without a visual is way too nerve-wracking… What happened?”
Shrugging off my jacket and replacing my staff in the trunk, I took a seat beside Sam on the bed before answering. I had a feeling she understood the gist of what had happened, but knew that she wanted a firsthand account. My superiors back with the Peace Brokers had always wanted the same, and this was personal for her. She needed to hear me say it.
I let out a slow breath and met her blue gaze. “I think I know what happened to your mother,” I said. “From what I saw tonight, I’m pretty sure women in Grant City are being taken and sold into slavery… sex slavery, I would assume, since they were all relatively young and good looking. Do you have a picture of her? Of your mom?”
Sam said nothing as she clicked through her computer, but when she turned the screen toward me, there were tears in her eyes. I looked at the screen and saw an older version of Sam; strawberry blonde hair, big blue eyes, heart-breaking smile. She didn’t have glasses, though, and the makeup and older age gave her the look of a woman that had yet to touch Sam’s figure and features.
In short, Sam’s mother had been rather young and beautiful. I sat back and nodded, as if that said everything, and really, I guess it did.
A few silent tears rolled down her cheeks, but Sam swiped them away, and her voice was steady when she spoke. “So that’s why she was at 33rd and Grand,” she said. “She was taken there. She was kidnapped and they were gonna… do to her what they were doing to those others.”
I nodded again. There really was nothing to say.
“She must’ve fought back, right?” Sam asked. “She must’ve fought because whoever grabbed her never got her to the docks… Don’t you think?”
I gave a small smile. “That makes sense,” I said.
The grief that had momentarily grasped Sam melted away, determination filling her face. “What about the man? The one you were asking the other guys about? The one that got in the car and drove away?”
I pulled up the face in my mind, the dark eyes of the guy called Dyson seeming to stare at me even through memory. “Dyson,” I said. “The junkie called him Dyson. He traded a small bag of Black Magic for the woman. I guess that’s how they’re taking some of them. Having drug addicts, people with nothing left to lose, capture the women and paying them in their poisons… Diabolical.”
Sam ran a hand through her hair. “Diabolical is right,” she agreed. “This thing goes way deeper than I even thought.”
I met her eyes to see her studying me, and nodded slowly. “Yeah, I think it does.”
“Which means it’s more dangerous even than before.”
Another nod. “Yep,” I said.
“Do you think we should back out? Quit while we’re ahead?” She was staring at me intensely, her blue eyes hardly blinking. “No hard feelings. I know what happened now, at least. I know my mom died fighting.”
I was silent a moment, a million things flying through my head in the space between seconds. I thought of the way I’d felt as I’d stepped down into the boat’s under carriage, of the looks on the faces of those kidnapped women, of the darkness in the man named Dyson’s eyes, of the picture Sam had shown me of her mother, so full of life, taken too soon.
I shook my head, the words coming with a certainty that should’ve scared me—terrified me, even—but did not. I was young, and when you’re young, you don’t know enough of the world yet to realize how big words can be, how they can reshape the course of your entire life.
“No,” I said. “I don’t want to back out. I want to push forward. I think… I think we have to. This city needs us.”
Of course, my young friend agreed.
CHAPTER 28
Sam and I spent the rest of that night talking, making plans, and eventually fell asleep next to each other on my bed. It amazed me how quickly I’d grown to trust her, how natural our relationship felt.
When Sam woke up in the morning, she said the three words that I knew made us kindred souls. “Dude… I need coffee.”
I had woken up an hour before her and had gone for a run, following that up with strength training. My adventure last night had left me with energy to expend. I chuckled as Sam sat up in the bed, rubbing her eyes, her strawberry blonde hair sticking out every which way.
“I don’t have any coffee,” I said, “but it does sound good.”
Sam went to my tiny bathroom and emerged a few moments later looking a little more bright eyed and bushy tailed. “Right,” she said. “We got a lot to do today. I know a good little coffee shop near my house, and then I’ll check on my dad after… Make sure he hasn’t drunk himself to death.” That last part was mumbled, spoken more to herself than to me.
Nodding, I grabbed my jacket and shrugged it over my shoulders. Then I went to my trunk and retrieved my staff. Sam only watched me in silence as I tucked it in the back of my waistband and pulled my t-shirt and jacket down over it.
As we were leaving, she said, “I still can’t get over the fact that I’m friends with a real life superhero vigilante.”
I closed the apartment door behind me, giving her a glance that told her to keep her voice down, but Sam didn’t see it. She was too busy staring across the hallway, and even before I turned my head and looked, I knew what—or rather, who—she was seeing.
Heat immediately flooding my cheeks, my eyes followed Sam’s until they rested on Thomas Reid. He looked as beautiful as ever, his dark hair and hazel eyes brilliant even in the dim light of the hall. His face was all fine angles, his jaw dusted with a close-shaved beard, little more than a five o’clock shadow.
And Sam was staring at him with her jaw practically touching the floor. An awkward silence hung between the three of us for a few seconds. Then Thomas gave a small wave, his face inscrutable as always, but that hint of amusement showing in his aura.
“Good morning,” he said.
“Holy Hannah,” Sam replied.
Embarrassed, I gulped and gave Sam a nudge toward the stairs, mumbling good morning before dragging her away similar to how I’d dragged her away from Caleb Cross.
When we got out onto the street and began heading toward her apartment, I said, “Sam, like, seriously, we gotta work on your game, homie.”
Sam pushed her glasses up on her nose. “What are you talking about?” she asked, feigning ignorance. “I was smooth as hell just now.”
I laughed out loud at this, feeling better in mood than I had in over a month. Yes, I’d lost everything I’d known, my old life gone and never coming back, but I’d gotten a job, had made a friend almost as hilarious as I am, and I’d totally saved those women last night.
When I thought about it, I would almost venture to say I felt happy. Anyone who’s ever suffered from depression or anxiety knows how big this was. And scary as all hell, too.
It meant I had something to lose.
“What happened to your skateboard?” Sam asked as we crossed another street, the coffee shop across the intersection.
My shoulders fell a touch. “A delivery truck turned it into matchsticks,” I said, holding the door to the coffee shop open for Sam.
“That sucks,” she said, and inhaled deeply the scent of coffee as she walked into the store.
“Tell me about it,” I mumbled, looking around.
The Grind was a quaint little place with small, modern tables and thick-cushioned chairs. Two of the four walls were windows, so natural light filled the room, making it seem more open and larger than it actually was. It was warm inside, faint trendy music playing in the speakers set into the walls. An open fireplace pulsed low heat in the center of the room. People sat at the tables and stood at the counter, some of them chatting, others lost in their laptops or novels or whatever else.
“Huh,” I said. “It’s cute.”
Sam grinned. “It’s locally owned, and all their stuff is organic.” She leaned in close to me. “A lot of the more popular kids hang out here, so I usually just get my coffee and go. It’s the best in town.”
I shook my head and tossed her a smirk. I could tell she was nervous, but that she knew she was safe with me.
“All the cool kids are at school, Sam,” I said. “Except for me, of course, because I got suspended for almost choking the life out of one of them.”
This really wasn’t funny, but we found ourselves chuckling as we ordered coffee. Sam tried to pay for both of ours, but I refused. I had a job now, and I was determined to make my own way.
We found a seat and sipped at our drinks, our heads leaned in close together like the little conspirators we were turning out to be.
“What’s on the agenda?” I asked.
Sam spoke lowly, ticking things off on her fingers. “First, I want to stop by the store and get some things. I need to figure out a way to attach a camera to your jacket. No more being blind for me. Then, I think we need to find a lair.”
“A lair,” I said, my mouth pulling up with amusement.
“Don’t look at me like that with those beautiful big green eyes,” Sam said. “Yes, a lair. Like a place of operations. I don’t think it’s smart to be… doing what we’re doing out of your apartment. What if someone follows you back?”
I nodded, still grinning. “All I heard is that you think I have beautiful big green eyes.”
Sam gave me a falsely exasperated look, and I chuckled. “Just kidding. You’re right. I guess do we need a ‘lair’. Go on.”
“Damn right we do,” she said. “Also—”
“Also what?” I asked, looking up from my steaming cup when Sam didn’t finish. She held up her hand, and I followed her eyes to a flat screen television set into the wall where the local news was being displayed.
A woman was on the screen, her eyes red and wide with tears, and my heart jammed up in my
throat as I realized I recognized her.
She was one of the women on the boat last night. A little boy no older than six was wrapped under her arm, a handsome man at her side. The man was also crying. The little boy just looked shocked.
The volume on the television was turned all the way down, but there were subtitles scrolling at the bottom of the screen, and as I read the words, my breath caught in my chest.
Reporter: Can you tell us what happened?
Woman: I was on my way home when I was grabbed…(sobbing)… I don’t know what happened next, because I was knocked out but when I woke up… (sobbing)… I didn’t know where I was! My hands were tied up. I was gagged. There were others… so many other women… I was sure I’d never see my family again. (More sobbing)
Reporter: Can you tell us what happened after that?
Woman: There was a girl…a girl in a mask. She showed up like… like a ghost… at first I thought she was there to kill us… but then… she told us everything would be all right… that we were safe…(sobbing)… She cut us free and told us the police were on the way.
Reporter: A girl in a mask? A girl in a mask saved you?
Man: That’s enough. No more questions.
The man on the screen led the woman and the child away, and the reporter turned back toward the camera, the docks on the east side of Grant City making up the backdrop.
Reporter: You’ve just heard from one of the twenty-two women police found last night after receiving an anonymous tip from a caller. At approximately midnight last night police arrived at the scene here to find the women held captive. Details have yet to be released about the individuals who were arrested last night, but once we know more, we’ll let you know. Back to you, Jen.
Sam’s eyes met mine across the small table, her expression mirroring my own. Her voice was whispered but barely contained when she said, “Aria, you’re famous!”
“Pfft,” I said. “Hardly… but that’s going to get some attention.”
“Right,” she agreed. “Which is why we need to be ready.”
“Ready for what?” said a voice behind me.