Darian yanks out two black ski masks that have cut out slots for the eyes and a small hole for the nose and mouth. “Here,” he says. “In case they have video surveillance.”
My stomach drops to my knees at his words, but I take the hat. Before I can slip it on, Darian gives me a quick kiss. “Search and rescue,” he says with a grin.
I smirk. “Right.”
We walk down the street, keeping to the shadows, hugging the brush line so closely needles prickle through my jeans.
We round the corner and turn onto Avalon Road…Darian’s street. Just seeing the street sign makes my heart leap. I haven’t been here in a long time, and knowing officials could be lurking close by makes my blood pound in my ears. I can barely breathe under the stupid hat.
Another few yards and we’re close enough to Darian’s house that we can see the boarded-up windows. On one of the wood planks, a word is spray-painted in bloodred letters: Murderer.
I let out a small gasp, and Darian squeezes my hand. “Relax, sunshine. It’s only a house and a stupid word written by an idiot.”
“What a nasty thing to do,” I say, feeling a mixture of anger and disgust.
There are several cars parked along the side of the street, and Darian pulls me behind the tailgate of one of them.
He tugs out two tiny communicators from his pocket and clips one to the collar of my jacket. “Here’s how you’ll talk to me. It’s voice activated and very sensitive and will pick up the barest whisper.” His eyes gleam through the holes cut into his black ski mask. “So don’t worry, I’ll hear whatever you say. If you see anybody—and I mean anybody—you tell me, okay?”
Staking out the area while he gets the flash drive is probably the most helpful—and smartest—thing to do. But it doesn’t stop me from wishing I could go with him. I sigh, but don’t argue.
Darian jerks his head toward the treeline separating his old house from his neighbors. “I’m going to follow those trees. They’ll take me to the backyard and give me cover at the same time.”
A car zooms beside us, making me jump. Darian yanks me close against the back of the car we’re hiding behind, cursing under his breath.
He glances around the edge of the car. “It’s probably just that neighbor Steven Craig. He’s always coming and going at crazy hours. You’d swear he’s a vampire.” Darian looks back and laughs and I can tell he’s trying to keep it light, but his voice sounds more strained than normal.
He takes one last glance around, and then nods back at me. “The car’s gone. Time to go.”
I press the screen on the communicator and it powers up. “Please be careful,” I whisper, and I notice his eyes smiling at me from behind his mask.
“I will.” Darian squeezes my hand, then clips his communicator to his jacket, turns it on, and slips out from behind the car.
Running in a crouch, Darian hurries across the street. My eyes dart left to right, checking for anyone that could be lurking in the shadows, or peering from a window. My heart leaps against my ribs, and I try not to think about what could happen—how dangerous what we’re doing really is.
When Darian makes it to the treeline, he presses his body against a tree trunk, keeping tight to it until I can barely make him out anymore.
“Never thought I’d be breaking into my own property,” his voice whispers into the communicator. Then, “Anything?”
“Wait.” I scoot to the other side of the car and check the surroundings, then quickly move back. I shift my gaze and find Darian’s shadowy outline again. “You’re good to go.”
Darian moves along the treeline in the distance until I can’t see him anymore, but I can still hear his huffs and puffs from exertion through the communicator. After a couple of minutes, I whisper, “Everything all right?”
Please let this go okay. Please find the flash drive. Please, please, please.
“Yeah,” he pants. “I’m trying to find the right tree.”
He must move forward again, because I hear the rustling of bushes. “I hid it inside a hole in the trunk of a tree. One sec.”
A faint orange glow lights up in the distance. I avert my gaze and concentrate on the inky outline of a tall man moving along the sidewalk. His hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail. The glow moves to his mouth, then back down by his side.
Who comes out for a cigarette at this time of night?
He stops in front of Darian’s house, takes in another long drag, and flicks the cigarette away.
Then I notice him say something. Even though I can’t make out the words, there’s no question his mouth is moving. Which means, unless the guy’s crazy, he’s talking to someone on a communicator.
I pull my head back. “Darian,” I croak in a terrified whisper. “Some guy is out front. You need to get out of there now.”
Darian grunts. “Shit. It’s gotta be here.”
“Forget about it,” I hiss. “Just get out of there—Darian, he’s talking on a communicator to somebody else—somebody else that I can’t see. They could be right next to you.”
I peek back at the place where the man just stood, but he’s gone.
Fear clutches me like an icy fist.
“It’s stuck,” Darian snaps and, after another moment, he whispers, “Rae, move!” His voice is tight, edgy. “Go back to the Dungeon and wait for me there.”
I cross the street, dashing in the direction of Darian’s house, and slink down beside another car. I’m not leaving without him. I can’t. I edge up beside the car and crane my neck to peek through the driver’s side window. I stare across the sidewalk toward Darian’s house, my nails gripping the window ledge of the car.
Something moves, and my gaze shifts, catching sight of the guy again. Except now, there are two of them talking to one another.
Maybe if I distract the men somehow. I could throw a rock…do something…anything.
Ponytail Guy points in the direction of Darian’s back yard.
I bite my lip, nearly drawing blood, and lower my gaze. As I do, I notice a set of keys dangling from the car’s ignition.
The way I see it, I have two options. I can rush to the Dungeon and wait for Darian like he suggested—and pray he gets away. Or, I can look at the keys left in the car as an open invitation to do something to help.
When I glance back up, the men have separated. They each take one side of the house and head toward the backyard.
Trapping Darian.
I lift the door handle as quietly as I can and shimmy into the seat, gently pulling it shut. “They’re coming from both sides. There are two of them!”
More rustling.
My nerves are wired. I press my lips against the communicator. “Darian!” I say, my voice breaking.
Heavy breathing into the communicator.
I don’t know if he’s passed out, hurt…or what. Did they find him? Is Darian hiding, and that’s why he’s not saying anything? But I need to let him know my plan…that I’m coming for him.
“Listen to me,” I whisper in the smallest voice. “I’m in a blue car and I’m going to drive around to the street behind your house. Hop the fence and come out,” I say, panicked.
I turn the car’s ignition like I’ve seen my parents do so many times. I’ve never driven a car before, but I have to move. Do something. I shift the car into the drive position and grip my slick hands around the wheel. My foot shifts onto the accelerator and I press harder than I intend. The car jolts forward, causing the motor to whir.
Smackers, Desiree!
I twist the steering wheel sharply, barely missing the car a few feet in front of me, and stomp on the accelerator, racing up the street.
“Hello, Darian,” an unfamiliar, rough voice rasps through my communicator. The hairs on my arms rise.
They’ve found him.
My head spins, panic filling me. I reach the corner and yank the wheel as the sounds of fists meeting flesh and loud grunting rush at me through my communicator.
Another man’s voice crackles, “You
’re going back to the Terrorscape, Sterling.” He laughs, followed by a sound I assume is another punch.
More groans, but not Darian’s. A flicker of hope ignites inside me.
Rustling, then panting, panting, panting.
“I’m coming,” Darian finally says into the communicator. I’ve never thought the sound of his voice could be so amazing.
Racing toward the back of his house, I realize the car’s headlights aren’t on. I glance down and fumble around for the switch and flip them on.
When I look back up, Darian stumbles forward at the end of the street. His hat is missing. Behind Darian, another tall figure drops over the fence. I realize it’s the same Ponytail Guy that stalked the shadows earlier. Darian elbows him in the face, then dashes in the direction of the street, toward my car. Ponytail quickly regains his composure and leaps toward Darian. His growling voice creeps eerily out of the communicator clipped to my jacket. “Darian,” the guy says far too calmly. “There’s nowhere to run, just give it up.”
At the top of the fence, the second guy’s head shoots out of the dark. I honk my horn and gun the accelerator.
Both men shift their attention to me right before Ponytail Official swings and punches Darian in the jaw. Darian staggers back.
“You’re going down this time, Darian,” he spits. “Vega will never let you escape again!”
“Fuck you, Richards!”
The glow of the headlights blurs their expressions, but I imagine Darian’s face is full of rage.
The ponytail guy that Darian called Richards yanks a gun from the holster hooked to his belt and a scream bursts from my throat.
“Watch out!”
Darian pummels Richards before he can use the weapon then, with one quick movement, sidesteps the retaliating blast from the gun aimed at his leg. Richards stumbles in front of my car and I come to a screeching halt.
Richards flips up over the hood, with a horrifying thump, thump, thump.
Darian yanks open the passenger side door and hops in, narrowly missing the second guy’s grasp. “Drive!”
I peel out and Darian smashes the car door outward, knocking the guy to the ground, and hauls it closed.
I stomp the pedal and Richards drops backward over the hood of the car and rolls several feet across the road.
My jaw gapes. I stare at his unmoving body in my rearview mirror. “Did I just kill that guy?”
“Keep your eyes on the road, Rae.”
I snap my gaze back to the road and squeal, swerving and narrowly missing yet another parked car.
“Damn it!” I rip off the stupid ski mask and flick it out the window.
“Where did you get your driver’s license by the way?” Darian asks, humor evident in his voice.
I roll my eyes. “Um, by the way, I didn’t. And don’t complain. I just saved your ass.”
He chuckles. “I’m not complaining, sunshine. You did good. And I doubt he’s dead,” Darian says, way more calmly than I feel. “But if he is, it’s not your fault. He ran into the car, not the other way around.”
I grip the wheel and breathe, trying to focus on the road and on not getting us killed. My gaze darts to Darian. “Are you all right?” I ask. “Did you get hurt?”
He smirks and slips a hand into his pocket. Retrieving a small plastic baggie, he then pulls a black flash drive from inside it. “I’m better than all right.” He gives a cocky grin. “I’m perfect.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
We decide to ditch the car a few blocks away from my house, knowing the officials must have its description and are probably already searching for it.
The sun will be rising soon and, if I hurry, I can make it home before my parents—which is better than I expected. Darian pulls me down an alley, behind an old warehouse. “Okay, so we need to come up with a plan. First of all, you should go home,” Darian says, as if reading my thoughts. “I’m going to make a copy of the information on this flash drive.” He holds up the small, black drive. It’s hard to believe something so little is worth so much.
With a smirk, he then shoves it deep into his jeans pocket. “And I’ll give the copy to Jameson. I can’t take any chances and lose the only bargaining chip we have.”
“You want me to come with you?” This meeting with Jameson is important and, although I know I need to get home, a part of me wants to see what will happen.
Darian leans against the gray brick building. “No, it’s okay. You go home and lay low for a while. You had on the ski mask, so they definitely didn’t recognize you. You’ll be safe.”
I twist a stray locket of hair around my finger, trying to look calmer than I feel. “I know, and I need to talk to my parents—try to convince them.”
“Yeah, you do, but you still don’t have any evidence yet other than the empty medicine vial, which I don’t think will be enough—”
“Wait,” I say, digging into my pocket and handing him the empty Falnesia vial. “Then take this and show it to Jameson along with the flash drive.”
Darian nods and slips the vial into his pocket. “Great. Now, you need to wait until we can show them the information on the flash drive. Then we can tell them about the Awakened.” He angles his body toward me. “Are you going to tell your parents about Sophia?”
I swallow. “Only as a last resort,” I whisper, imagining their shock if I drop that bomb. “I’m hoping that with your information along with my vial, it’ll be enough. I don’t want to upset them more than I have to.” I sigh. “Although, I probably should tell them eventually. They have a right to know.”
He tucks a ribbon of hair behind my ear. “Why don’t you go home and just relax for a bit while I take care of this.”
Relax? The only way I could relax is to shut out the world and go under the Dreamscape, where I’m guaranteed to sleep with amazing dreams. But knowing Darian could be caught while we’re apart makes that idea impossible. I don’t want to relax knowing he could be in danger.
“I’d rather come with you,” I say.
Darian shakes his head. “I can get this done faster without you, trust me.”
“Okay, but when can we leave?” I ask, anxious to find the Awakened. Truthfully, as nervous as I am about leaving and facing the unknown, I’m more terrified of staying and being caught, which at this point is inevitable. And now that I’ve turned into an all-out Noncompliant, my stress level has reached new heights.
“Hopefully, with this new information, Jameson will cough up the location of the nearest Awakened cell. But with a three-day hike and no Dreamscape miraculously dangling from the sky, we need to get some sleep before we leave.”
I open my mouth to protest, but then close it, realizing I have a date with Asher tonight. If I don’t show up, we won’t have much of a head start from any officials looking for Darian. And I know Darian is right.
I scrunch my shoulders to my ears. “Yeah, and I have a date with Asher later, remember?”
He laughs humorlessly, and narrows his eyes. “How could I forget?”
“Well, after tonight’s date, there isn’t another one scheduled for two days. So if we wait until tomorrow to leave, not only can we catch up on sleep, but we’ll have almost a two-day head start without anyone noticing me missing. If my parents agree to come, they’ll have to call in sick.”
Darian wraps a hand around mine that, until now, I didn’t realize was trembling. “That sounds right, and as long as Jameson comes through we can leave in the morning.”
With the little sleep I’ve had and the adrenaline crash I’m beginning to feel right now, my eyes feel heavy. “You sure you don’t want me to come with you?” I offer anyway.
He gives me a sexy smile before pulling me into a hug. “No, sunshine, this is something I need to work out with Jameson myself.” He pauses, then, in a conspiratorial voice, says, “But, if you want to meet me at, say, one o’clock at the Dungeon before your last date with butthead, I’d love it.”
I pull back, smiling. “All righ
t.” One more chance to hang out with Darian at Lake Briar is an easy decision.
“But hey, if things go well with Jameson,” he says, “you should call your parents and make up some excuse to get them to come home from work right after your date. They’re working the night shift, right?”
I nod, but I’m still thinking how he said, “if things go well.”
If things don’t go well, and Jameson is nothing but a big fat liar, I don’t know what we’ll do. And that thought terrifies me.
Darian squeezes my hand. “Rae, listen. Don’t worry about anything. Leaving tomorrow makes sense because not only do you need time to convince your parents, but they will also need some sleep before we leave.”
“Yeah, I know.” A thought suddenly comes to me. “Darian, you called that guy by name back there. You called him Richards.” I quirk a brow. “How do you know him?”
A muscle pops in his jaw and he looks away. After a moment he answers. “Because,” he says, his voice hoarse. “He’s the one who killed my parents.”
Letting out a shaky breath, I reach out and touch his arm.
His eyes suddenly take on a faraway look and he turns away. “I don’t want to talk about it, Rae.” He lets out a strangled laugh. “I do want to kill that guy, though. I hope you did kill him when you hit him with the car.”
If Darian knows Richards was the one to kill his parents, then that means he witnessed their murder. My chest constricts until I feel like it’s hard to breathe. “I-I’m so sorry, Darian,” I whisper, not knowing what to say or do. “I can’t imagine anyone having to watch something like that.”
Darian squares his shoulders and shakes his head, turning back to face me. “It’s done now and we just need to stick with the plan.”
Stepping forward, I push his unzipped jacket open and lean the side of my face on the soft fabric pulled tight across his firm chest. I wrap my arms around his waist, holding him tightly, and press my fingers into his back.
A wave of sadness rushes through me—for Darian’s loss, for what he’s had to go through, and for the sister I’ve lost, too.
I cling to him a moment longer, worried he’ll be caught while he’s gone. Or that Jameson has been lying about everything, and there are no Awakened. That it’s just a myth, and we’ll be forced to live in denial under the ever-present control of the Dreamscape.
Awakening Page 19