Hyde, an Urban Fantasy

by Lauren Stewart

  She picked up the receiver slowly and held it to her ear. Wait, what’s Mitch’s phone number? In the time of cell phones and speed-dialing, did anyone even know anybody’s phone number anymore? She closed her eyes to think. Landon must have taken that as a hint, because she heard him get up from the desk. When she looked, she saw him speaking to another officer across the room.

  Mitch answered on the fourth ring, just before she gave up. “What?” His voice was just as she remembered it—gruff, mean, and amazing.

  “Mitch?” I will not cry, I will not cry, I will not cry. I’m crying, aren’t I?

  “What’s wrong, Eden.” His words flew through the phone lines in short succession—he was in panic-mode.

  “It’s Carter. Carter. Oh God, Mitch, there was so much blood.” She ignored a few stares of other civilians around her and focused on keeping her breath steady so Mitch would be able to understand what she was saying.

  “Is he—No, never mind. You can tell me later. Where are you?”

  “At the police station.”

  “Fuck.” He blew out a quick puff of air. “Did you tell them anything?”

  “No. But Carter. He told me—”

  “Don’t say anything else! You hear me? They could be listening.”

  They? Oh, the police. Yeah, that was a possibility. “Okay.” Her brain was on auto-pilot, the plane was going down and there were no parachutes. What does one do at that point? Panic. And, in Eden’s case, apparently adding more dry-weeping into the mix seemed like a good idea, too.

  “Breathe, Eden. Breathe.” He waited until the hiccupping of her breath had slowed down. “Do not say anything to them. Do you hear me? I’m going to call a lawyer.”

  “Why? Can’t you pick me up?”

  “What? Aren’t they holding you?”

  “No. They said I can go home. I wanna go home, Mitch,” she whimpered.

  “I’m coming.” No pause, no question. He was coming. “No. Shit. I’ll send Jolie.” Or not.

  “But I want you.”

  “You’ll have me, okay? Just as soon as we get you home.” He yelled Jolie’s name at the top of his lungs, and Eden flinched away from the phone.

  “Mitch?”

  “Yeah, babe.”

  She wasn’t sure why he couldn’t come himself, but wasn’t going to argue over the phone. She was too tired. “Tell Jolie to hurry.”

  “Okay. I’ll be waiting for you. Be strong, Eden.”

  She’d try. Jolie would pick her up, and then Mitch could take her to the hospital to see Carter. Yeah, she’d need Mitch to be there too. So he could keep her standing. And strong.

  CHAPTER XLII

  Eden waited on a long row of plastic chairs set so close together, she had to tuck in her shoulders to avoid touching the people on either side of her. The man on her left looked as uncomfortable as she did, but she leaned closer to him anyway, just to get away from the man on her other side. He smelled like he’d had just had a tryst with a box of wine, his body slumping toward her.

  She said a quiet prayer of thanks when Jolie walked in. The woman always looked perfect, which made the contrast between her and the rest of the lobby’s occupants even greater. She looked so comfortable, as if she was in Nordstrom’s doing a little shopping rather than in a place that smelled like sweat, nervousness and captivity. Her hair was down, hitting the middle of her back, the front kept off her beautiful face with a clip. Crisply ironed gray pants and a flowing top completed the image of controlled sexiness, bringing every eye in the place to rest on her.

  Eden jumped up, entirely aware that, in comparison, she looked more like the drunk staring at Jolie than the object of his ogling. At least the blood was gone. The clothes she’d been wearing when she woke up were in a lab somewhere nearby being analyzed for trace evidence.

  § § §

  Jolie scowled at the girl who had caused her so much trouble. That trouble would all be washed away soon though, as soon as Hyde appeared. “You look like hell, Eden.”

  “Then I guess I look better than I feel.”

  Jolie shrugged and ventured a glance around the room, grimacing. “Can we leave now?”

  Eden nodded and followed Jolie out the station door to Mitch’s car. She’d parked in front of a hydrant.

  Jolie was silent as they drove, wondering how to ask why they’d let Eden go with so much evidence against her. But she had to be subtle, and Jolie didn’t do subtle well.

  “Why didn’t Mitch come?” Eden asked.

  “What?” Jolie was jolted away from her planning. “Oh, he thought it might look suspicious. Even though they’re not investigating Shelly’s case anymore, they don’t trust him. Cops.” She rolled her eyes. “Oh yeah, and he’s caged.” Her smile was humorless.

  “He’s still in the cage? Did he change last night?”

  “No. It was a false alarm, but he’s still fighting Hyde off. He took a sedative to help.”

  The girl’s lip curled slightly, and she nodded. “I need a phone. Could I use yours?”

  “I left it at the house. You’ll have to wait.”

  Jolie had never felt more pissed off, more alone. She’d always felt someone had her back—The Clinic when she was dealing with Mitchell and Mitchell when she was dealing with The Clinic. Of course, Mitchell had no idea that he was actually supporting one of the people who were destroying any chance he had at a normal life. And now that Jolie had killed Carter—and in such a messy manner—The Clinic was going to be beyond angry with her. But she’d had no choice. And framing Eden for his death had been a perk.

  Killing the drug-dealing witness didn’t bother her at all. Like the junkie before him, the guy was probably going to die a violent death anyway. Jolie had just hurried up the inevitable. But Carter. Eden’s handler. He’d been different. Had given Jolie pause. But she’d get over it.

  She should have known Carter wasn’t cut out for this type of work. “Losing” his medical file and getting him into the Police Academy hadn’t been enough. Her skills with sexual and emotional manipulation hadn’t been enough. Poor deluded Carter couldn’t be trusted, so he’d had to go.

  It was a sad realization, but sad realizations were a daily event in her life. She did horrible things to a man who, in another life, might have loved her. Instead, Mitchell was only hers when Hyde took over his body.

  Life sucks. Everybody uses everybody. Everyone uses themselves to get what they want. Or to get the results they are told to get.

  For Jolie, screwing Carter had been a mildly pleasurable part of that process. Screwing Mitchell—no, Hyde—after giving him a whopping dose of narcotic, had been even more pleasurable. But not nearly as much as what the girl now freaking out in the passenger seat next to her had experienced. No, Eden had the man, while Jolie had to make-do with the beast.

  Yeah, doesn’t life just suck.

  Jolie took her hand off the steering wheel and put it on Eden’s arm. “I’m so sorry about Carter, Eden. He was a really nice guy.”

  Eden’s lower lip started to shake. “Did he . . . die?”

  Jolie glanced at her, confused. What the hell did that mean? Didn’t she wake up next to his body? When Jolie had fled the apartment the night before, Chastity had been screaming at her. The bitch had been pissed—not because Jolie had beaten someone, but because Jolie had beaten Chastity’s someone. “He’s mine,” she’d yelled. “Why did you end what was mine?” Jolie hadn’t answered. The look in Chastity’s eyes had scared the shit out of her, and Jolie had known that if she didn’t get out of there quick, she’d end up a bloody mess right next to Carter.

  “Is he dead?” Eden asked, her voice shaking.

  “Um . . . isn’t that why they were holding you?” Oh shit, why had the cops let her go? Jolie hadn’t yet told The Clinic about Carter’s death, so how had they found out? There was no way they’d have known it was once again time to grease whoever’s palm it took to close the case. What the hell?

  Eden shook her head. “Did you speak t
o someone at the hospital?”

  Jolie looked back to the road before they veered off and crashed. “Why would I?”

  “Carter wasn’t dead. They sent him to the hospital. But I don’t know if he’s . . . .”

  Jolie’s hand tightened on the wheel, her heart beat picking up speed, her foot pressing harder on the gas pedal. Oh, shit. She was in trouble. “Was he conscious?”

  “For a few seconds,” Eden whimpered. “He told me to leave. He told me to leave him there. On the ground. Bleeding.” The girl was pathetic.

  Jolie blinked and swallowed. “He actually said that? Or did he just shoo you away.”

  “He said it, and he told me to call you and Mitch.”

  Jolie nodded slightly and ran her teeth over her bottom lip. “He’s a smart kid. What else?” She only risked a quick glance at the girl. If Eden saw the expression on Jolie’s face, it would be a dead give-away. Holy shit, did he tell her anything condemning? And what had Eden told the cops?

  “He told me that I didn’t do it.”

  Jolie flipped her head to look at Eden. “Really?”

  She shook her head that was already starting to shake all by itself.

  “Did he tell you who did do it?”

  “No.”

  Jolie took a deep breath and flexed her foot to release its pressure on the gas pedal. “Well, did the cops talk to him? Get any information from him?”

  “They told me he was in surgery . . . because of what I did to him.”

  “But you just told me he said you didn’t do it.”

  “Yeah, like that’s something I believe.”

  Jolie relaxed into her seat for the rest of the drive to Mitch’s, leaving Eden to her own thoughts. Her own nightmare. So Eden still believed she’d attacked Carter. That was very good. And the police didn’t know any differently. But Carter being alive changed everything. Jolie needed to come up with a plan. She had to get to Carter before he woke up. If he woke up.

  The Clinic was going to be furious. She’d been sloppy, in addition to drawing more attention to Hyde and Chastity. This needed to end.

  If Eden died and Jolie made it look like Hyde had done it, part of her problem would go away. The Clinic couldn’t blame her if their handsome guinea pig did what they’d basically created him to do. And if Mitchell believed he’d killed Eden, as well as his sister, maybe Jolie could convince him to go away with her. Somewhere the cops couldn’t find them. The cops didn’t scare her nearly as much as her bosses did.

  Could she disappear well enough that The Clinic couldn’t find her either? Mitchell too. She had to take him with her. But without the serum, what would he be like? She’d never known him without it. The Clinic had approached her after Mitchell’s father had died. She was ambitious and looked young enough to convince a sixteen-year-old boy she was just a friend. A friend they thought he would connect with, be attracted to, keep around. And he had. Jolie guessed they’d thought she could use her questionable sense of morality and do what she was told. And she had. Even after she realized she was in love with the bastard.

  Fifteen years later, she still wasn’t 100% sure what the drug controlled—his cycle or his rage. Probably both. She could deal with him transforming more often. And maybe, with the evil appearing more often, he’d be more like Chastity. More like Eden. Easier to control when he was human, nicer even. She stifled a chuckle. Mitchell being nice. Yeah, she’d love to see that.

  They pulled into Mitchell’s driveway a few minutes later. Eden jumped out of the car and ran to the front door.

  “Which hospital, Eden?” Jolie yelled at her.

  “North Broward!” Then she threw the door open and bounded up the stairs.

  Jolie walked into the house to look for her phone, hoping she’d hear good news from the hospital. Maybe one of her problems hadn’t made it out of surgery alive.

  § § §

  The headaches were back, even though Mitch hadn’t changed last night. He’d thought they were connected to his transformation, but maybe it was the cage—radon leaking out of the bars or something. Yeah, sure, it was radon. Moron. If the morphine wasn’t still flowing through his system, he’d be in a fetal position clutching his head and crying right now.

  Instead, he was sitting up on the mattress, wiping his eyes, when he heard Eden’s shout from downstairs. His body waved back and forth slightly as he tried to find a good spot to balance in. When he heard the pounding of her footsteps in the hallway, he leaned forward and steadied himself with the bars, not trusting he could stand.

  She plowed into the room and slid on the hardwood floor, her eyes puffy and red. Too many tears. The cage stopped her, and she knelt down to his level. Her fingers grasped his, the bar between their palms. She didn’t say anything, just searched his eyes for help, understanding. But he didn’t understand a damned thing. And help? How could he help her stuck in a prison cell?

  When he realized that the only thing he could offer her was to listen, he said, “Tell me what happened.”

  “Can you come out? Can I go in?” Her words were frantic, tumbling over each other in their haste.

  Damn it, he wanted to hold her. Put his arms around her and press her hard against his chest as if that could force the fear out of her. “Yeah, get the key. But if I tell you to get out, you get out. Understand?”

  She didn’t nod, just turned and ran to the table for the key. Fumbling, she unlocked the cage and rushed to him, her body landing on his, knocking him backwards onto the mattress with her on top of him.

  His cock immediately reacted to the position. He cursed it, cursed her for forcing his body to lose control so quickly. But with her arms around him, her cheek against his chest, her shoulders jerking slightly from her sobs, he ignored his desire and held her. He kissed her hair and ran his hands down her back. Comforting someone was completely foreign to him. He hoped like hell he was doing it right.

  “He said I didn’t do it, but I must have, Mitch. She must have done it.” Her voice was muffled, her breath warm on his neck. “But they let me go. Why did they let me go?”

  “Because you didn’t do anything wrong, Eden. You didn’t.” Chastity did. And the woman in his arms wasn’t Chastity.

  She raised her face to look at him—so much anguish, so much doubt.

  He wiped her cheek, letting his hand trace down her face and rest on her trembling lip. When she inched higher up on him, he accepted her invitation. He very carefully put his lips on hers, sweeping them side to side, barely touching.

  She moved even higher, opening to him, pulling him closer with the arms wrapped around his neck. Her tongue touching his, smooth, wet, warm.

  His hips lifted by themselves, pressing his erection against her. She moaned into his mouth. What the hell was he doing? Nice guy. She’s completely vulnerable and all he’s thinking about is banging her . . . in a cage. Yeah, nice fucking guy.

  He pushed her away, trying to break the kiss, but he’d have to push a lot harder to pry her off him. And that was something he couldn’t do. Then he’d have to speak. Say something like: Sorry you think you killed your boyfriend, but you need to get off me before I rip off your clothes and have at you. Yeah, that’d be just what she needed to hear.

  “Just in case you care, Eden, Carter’s in a coma.” The bitterness in Jolie’s voice echoed off the ceiling and did something Mitch had been unable to do—remove Eden’s lips from his.

  Eden sat up, dazed but recovering, a dark blush appearing on her cheeks. “You called the hospital?” She stood and stepped out of the cage without looking back.

  Mitch tried not to be disappointed at how quickly she seemed to forget about him. “Lock the door,” he muttered, wiping his mouth but still tasting her.

  She whipped her head around and went to close the padlock. “Sorry.” She held his eyes until Jolie spoke.

  “The surgery went okay, but he’s still unconscious. They don’t know much more than that. Something about, ‘We’ll wait and see.’ Which is just bri
lliant.” She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t go to med school, and I could’ve made that diagnosis.”

  Eden spoke to Mitch. “I need to go see him.”

  He nodded. “Fine. Take my car. Do you know how to drive?”

  “More or less.”

  Not encouraging. “Enough to not kill yourself? Maybe Jolie should go with you.”

  Jolie glared at him.

  “Do you want to come, Jolie?” Eden asked. “I know you and Carter were . . . close.”

  Jolie looked at her feet for a minute before speaking. “Sure. But then I’m coming back here. Mitchell, you and I have some more to discuss.”