Darklight

by Forrest, Bella

  “Like I said, we’re doing the best with what we’ve got,” Wolf said, shrugging. He looked lost, like he truly didn’t know what else to tell me. I was relieved he wasn’t visibly offended.

  I looked levelly at him, focusing on not forming a judgment without knowing the whole situation. I understood respecting the villagers’ wishes, but people—sometimes children—were being kidnapped. Considering how many had vanished in the past year, these officers didn't seem very proactive about solving the problem.

  I'd never dealt with anything quite like this, however, so I tried to temper my irritation. Maybe this lack of emotion was just their response to having to deal with the same unsolved problem, day after day, with no answers. Maybe all of this really was out of their control.

  "Thank you for your time, gentlemen," Dorian said. Kane nodded to them, which I guessed was about as polite as he could get, but I still noted the gesture with approval.

  We spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon walking through the community, knocking on doors. It felt rather intrusive, but we put on our most professional faces and tried to be polite and courteous.

  Before we knocked on the first door, I turned and cleared my throat, stalling to collect my nerve for what I was about to say to my migraine-inducing teammate. Be chill. Level-headed. Kane is logical. Mostly.

  "Kane," I started. "I love the curmudgeonly flare you bring to our team, but considering the cultural differences between you and these lovely people, I'm going to ask you to focus on observing and listening today. Not speaking." I offered him a sweet smile that I knew he would hate.

  Kane pinned me with a glare. "What makes you think I plan to waste my breath?" he snapped. I took a moment to grieve for that moment of politeness earlier.

  "Glad we're on the same page."

  Dorian and Zach bit back laughter.

  None of the families we interviewed welcomed us into their homes, so we asked questions on their front porches. Children gawked at us from behind curtains and legs. No one had ever seen the kidnapper, not even a trace. Worried families echoed the police. Always at night, always young. The victims seemed entirely random—they never knew who would be next.

  Again and again, we heard similar stories, and saw the people who told them in different moments of their grief. Our questions overwhelmed one mother. Her silent tears seemed endless. “My daughter is always so careful, so smart,” she said softly.

  “And she was taken at night?” I asked, hating that she had to relive her tragedy one more time, even for the sake of finding the culprit. I already knew I couldn’t bring her child back.

  “Yes, she went to the outhouse as our family prepared for bed. She never came back.” The mother choked on her last sentence and wiped her face on the sleeve of her long black dress.

  I focused on my handwriting, blinking hard to disperse the tears gathering at the corners of my own eyes. I couldn’t cry in front of the grieving mother of a girl I didn’t know. I didn’t envy investigators, who did this every day.

  Between houses, our team brainstormed.

  "It’s hard to believe that this is the only information they have," Zach said, his voice hard and teeth gritted. “How can the police be this ignorant when this has been happening for so long?”

  Dorian agreed with a terse nod, and our little group stood for a frustrated moment, simmering in discontentment. Even Kane seemed to feel it, his lip curling into a silent sneer.

  We continued down the road and passed some thickly wooded areas. Crickets trilled in the tall grasses at the base of the trees. I caught Dorian and Kane gazing into the woods before exchanging a glance, but their eyes returned to the road. I made a mental note to ask Dorian about that later, but I knew if he’d sensed something relevant to the mission, he would’ve said so. Knowing that in my gut pulled back on my “mission anxiety,” too.

  We hit a few more houses. The pain in peoples' eyes weighed on me. It felt like the victims had been erased. The vampires remained quiet and made sure to keep their distance from the villagers.

  The afternoon waned, and we sat in the grass so Zach and I could eat a few mouthfuls of crackers. I spoke directly to Dorian for the first time since our interaction at the shower. I’d made a point to dive deeper into our work that day and not think about the water droplets on his pecs. What I wanted to discuss with him was much more important.

  "I've been thinking," I said.

  He raised his brows, gently encouraging me to continue.

  "I'm going to ask Captain Bryce if he’ll allow the adult vampires to visit the Immortal Plane so you can feed. It doesn't make sense for you all to needlessly suffer, especially the children." I might’ve raised my idea with him in the morning, when it was just the two of us, if I hadn’t been distracted by certain visual environmental factors.

  "I hope he doesn’t chew your head off for proposing it," Dorian said, but his low-key joke showed a hint of worry underneath.

  "He might… but it's worth asking. For everyone's sake.”

  “It might help,” Dorian said. “Though the Immortal Plane is still pretty dangerous.”

  From a few feet away, Kane turned his head, revealing that he’d been listening in. The topic of conversation made me focus even more on the dark circles under his eyes, heavy as bruises in the bright afternoon light. “Ah, so you’ll consider going back to the Immortal Plane if she suggests it?”

  I felt my mouth go dry. Dorian’s, on the other hand, twitched irritably. “Kane, you know that Lyra’s suggestion would be an entirely different situation.”

  Kane looked away again. If he were a cat, he would’ve lashed his tail in irritation. I knew he was sore about Dorian’s plan to stay on Earth and request asylum, but I couldn’t help lingering for a moment on what else he’d implied. It came with a sting, but I knew better than to take anything that came out of Kane’s mouth personally.

  “Guys,” Zach said, bringing it back to the topic at hand. “Lyra’s got a point. But I’m not sure others will see the logic. After all, it wasn’t part of the deal.”

  I nodded my thanks to my brother. "If I can convince Bryce, I believe he could get everyone to fall in line.”

  “Doubtful,” Kane said, as Dorian simultaneously remarked, “Worth a shot.”

  Dorian and I glanced at each other, sharing a smirk. If that moment didn’t epitomize their relationship—and personality differences—I didn’t know what would.

  “We don’t know if we don’t try,” Zach added cheerfully, tossing another point in the optimistic direction.

  “I’ll look for an angle,” I said, remaining neutral. I didn’t want Kane to feel ganged up on. “I'll emphasize to him how bad it would make him look if our six-week mission started strong and then flopped." I’d never actually say anything like that to Bryce. My gut told me that if I did bring this up with my captain, he’d hear me out. Gruffly and harshly, maybe, but at least he’d listen. If it meant the health and wellbeing of our new friends and our mission’s bigger, universal picture, Bryce would consider it.

  "And humans say that vampires are conniving," Dorian replied, smirking. He held my eyes for a moment and then sobered slightly. “Couldn’t hurt to ask, anyway…” His voice trailed off.

  My walkie buzzed, saving us from the need to disagree about further details of the plan.

  “Two other officers are about to report for patrol at the village entrance,” Shelton said through white noise.

  My team looked at each other, and, without a word, booked it down the gravel path.

  Approaching the entrance, we met the two new officers. Zach and I launched into the same questions we'd asked all day and received the same answers.

  "It's an unbelievable tragedy that's gone on far too long," one said with a sigh, looking off over a farm field, clearly discouraged by the village’s situation. "We're praying for it to end soon. Thank you for your help."

  "Of course," Zach said, his face calm, giving nothing away, though I could still see his irr
itation in the speed of his notetaking, and hear it in the hardness of his voice.

  As the sun began to set, our team returned to the barn to decompress and mull over the notes from the day.

  "Okay, Kane, you can talk now," I joked, trying to get the vampires to smile again. They looked more worn than they had in the morning. I wracked my brain again, trying to think of anything I could do in the short term, but there was obviously only one, totally impossible option. Kane said nothing, but he cracked a slow, wry smile, which I took as a success.

  We sat around the table, the silence of the barn weighing heavily on all of us.

  "Now that we're in private," I said. "Dorian, Kane. Anything at all?"

  Kane and Dorian glanced at each other, and I watched as some conflicted emotion passed between them. Zach caught it too, raising his eyebrows.

  "An inkling," Dorian finally offered. He seemed thoughtful, pensive. "I can't describe it, but at one point today, I felt… a pull. It wasn’t linked to anyone, but it felt like… a distant murmur, almost. I couldn’t determine the direction, or I would have said something." That must have been the moment when the two of them seemed to tense up around the woods.

  "I felt it too," Kane said, confirming my suspicions. "I agree, the source is questionable. I have an idea to help clear that up, though." Zach’s brows quirked higher, mirroring my surprise that Kane actually planned to contribute something extra to the mission.

  "Yes?" I asked.

  "A night survey. The kidnappings happen at night, so maybe Dorian and I will be able to sense the source better if it's closer." His shoulders squared as he spoke, his voice even. It looked as if he was subtly bracing himself; his ideas did seem to get shot down frequently.

  "Great idea.” I placed my palms together, officially thanking fate for bringing this crotchety dude with us on this trip. I thought I saw a glimmer of pride in his stony eyes.

  “We'll split into two teams and meet in the middle of the village. I’ll find another flashlight," I said, getting up to dig around the barn.

  * * *

  Shelton called on the walkie that evening to let us know that some other officers had volunteered to do a “graveyard shift” squad car patrol that night so our team could rest after a long day of interviewing and investigating. I thanked him for their kindness, specifically leaving out the fact that we would be night-surveilling in secret. Shelton didn’t need to know any specific details of our plans that didn’t involve the cops. Besides, the last thing we needed was more officers in our way during our investigation. They had turned out to be of very little help up until that point, though they were kind enough.

  We set out around ten o'clock. Darkness enveloped the village, save for a few windows glimmering with candlelight from inside.

  "I'm with K-dog," Zach said as we headed toward the gravel road. He slapped Kane on the back, and I heard Kane suck an irritated breath between his teeth.

  "Bros for life," I added, amused.

  I paused to make sure that the infrared video camera I’d requisitioned for the mission hung securely over my shoulder. It was a fancy gadget, phenomenally lightweight yet jammed with features, including the most powerful zoom lens I’d ever used and a live backup-to-cloud mode. Jim set it up so he could receive notifications when footage was being relayed—and keep an eye on what we were doing.

  Our pairs split and set out, each human with a flashlight, for emergencies only. We didn't want to be walking targets for whatever or whoever would potentially see us as such. Since the village’s road was one big loop, Zach and Kane set out in one direction and Dorian and I in the opposite. The idea was to meet in the middle, sooner or later.

  The moon helped us see the road. Crickets thrummed and chirped. Dorian and I walked quietly at first, moving evenly side by side, which was fine by me. If we spoke, he might bring up the shower event. The embarrassment was still too real.

  We stepped lightly to avoid disturbing the gravel and drawing attention to ourselves.

  I braved a whisper. "What were you and Kane talking about last night, before you fell asleep?" I asked.

  I listened as Dorian’s breathing turned choppier, hoping this didn’t pain him too much to talk about.

  "Sorry if we kept you awake," he replied softly.

  "Oh no, it's fine. I just… wondered if you were talk—"

  Dorian interrupted me. "Lyra," he uttered, his breathing completely stopped, his tone heavy.

  A shiver crawled up my back at the change in his voice. "What is it?"

  "Stop moving. Just wait," he said, gravel in his voice.

  I froze, swiveling my head to listen. Only crickets. I couldn’t even imagine how much keener his night vision and hearing were than mine.

  We stood still for only a few moments before he spoke again.

  "I feel something. Follow me."

  He grabbed my hand, and we crept in the direction of a small cottage. The moonlight reflected from the dark windows. I physically shook my head to remind myself to focus on my steps, not his fingers wrapped around mine. Dorian slowed his pace, his shoulders tense but sinuous, like a hunting feline. Slowly, he led us around the house, maintaining a decent distance from the building. Until, without warning, he dropped into a crouch in the grass, pulling me down with him.

  "Watch," he whispered.

  I scanned the inky blur of darkness. I didn't hear anything. Then, a flashlight beam bobbed over by a barn about a hundred yards away. I sucked in a breath. Something was happening. That weird tension I sensed in the village felt much stronger now.

  "Is that Kane and Zach?" I breathed.

  "No," he said flatly. I knew he didn’t mean to be rude. He didn’t want to give away our position.

  The beam bounced erratically, and then, for a moment, a young voice pierced the night, a gurgling cry of shock or surprise that sent anxiety coursing through my bone marrow.

  The shout cut off abruptly.

  A teenage boy—the one who’d nodded at us while leading his horse the day before—appeared in the flashlight's halo. Two men held his arms. One held a cloth to the boy's mouth.

  "We have to do something," I breathed, concern straining my vocal cords as I raised the camera and hit record. We needed to capture evidence, but this was also our chance to make sure this boy didn’t become another statistic.

  "Hold," Dorian said.

  My chest surged with irritation and a shot of adrenaline. I hated to sit still, sensing our window to help was tiny, but Dorian could sense things about the situation that I didn’t. Begrudgingly, I kept still.

  I trusted Dorian, but it felt fundamentally wrong to sit by and watch as the young man went limp in the pool of light shining on the grass. The two figures hoisted him up and carried him toward the moonlit tree line.

  The flashlight beam disappeared into the edges of the forest that pressed up against the barn in a dark tangle. I tried to jump to my feet, but Dorian's iron grip kept me in the grass.

  "Dorian," I pressed.

  He waited a beat, just long enough for me to question. Then he bolted, dragging me behind him. I stumbled, unable to keep up as he darted over the uneven terrain.

  Dorian stopped, turned toward me, and grabbed my other hand with his. I didn’t even realize his intention before, without hesitation, he swung me onto his back. In silent understanding, I wrapped my arms tightly around his shoulders and gripped his sides with my thighs.

  “Ready?” he muttered in the barest whisper, his voice tense and sharp.

  “Just a minute.” I pulled the video camera up by its strap and rested it on his shoulder.

  I considered texting Zach but didn’t want to waste another moment. More importantly, there was a chance his and Kane’s arrival could inadvertently spook the criminals. The more of us there were, the more likely we were to draw attention to ourselves.

  "Let's go," I breathed to Dorian. We could rejoin our teammates later.

  Dorian flew silently over the damp grass. I knew his feet must be
hitting the ground, but it felt like we floated over it. He ducked under branches as we entered the forest, the trees seeming to instantly spring up around us into thick woods. He slowed to scan the area for movement before taking us deeper.

  I tucked my face behind Dorian's head as twigs slashed me. I felt gratitude for Dorian’s eyesight, because I couldn’t see anything outside scattered pools of moonlight. He slowed again and surveyed, breathing deeply through his nose, a predator checking the wind for scent. His back muscles were tense against my chest. He moved smoothly, as if I weighed no more than a feather.

  "Found them," Dorian whispered triumphantly, his breathing remarkably steady. This guy was all business today.

  I looked through the camera screen, but I heard them first. Cracking pinecones and voices about forty yards ahead.

  I had to clamp down on my impatience as Dorian let them put distance between us, before quietly creeping after them again. We followed for what felt like ages. My memory flashed to the map of Elmore County Jim had given us—a forest preserve that stretched for miles. There was supposedly a river nearby, but I saw and heard no sign of it yet.

  Light filtered through the tree trunks. More voices spoke ahead of us. Dorian slunk toward the light, using a shield of thick branches to guard us from sight. He carried me up an embankment and knelt there. Electric lights shone from a small cottage, perhaps a ranger or DNR station.

  I was terrified. And I swallowed it, kept my eyes up, and thought about that boy and our mission. Dorian hadn’t faltered and neither would I.

  "You recording this?" Dorian asked softly.

  "All of it," I said, switching the camera out of infrared mode. I gazed at the building through the screen, angling the device through one of the gaps in our cover.

  The men cleared the brush and stepped into the floodlights, dropping the unconscious boy on the ground by the door.

  I inhaled sharply.

  The men were wearing police uniforms.

  Chapter Thirty

  One of the officers opened the cabin door and dragged the boy inside. His companion looked back, scanning the forest.