Darkness Loves Company: A Tides of Darkness Prequel

by Sarah Blair

  Originally constructed in 1905 as the NYC Police Headquarters, millions of feet had worn the stone down over the years. That was one of the things Mitch appreciated about being inside this place few were allowed to enter anymore. Officers of the law and criminals alike had all tread their own indelible marks in the stone. If walls could talk was an applicable cliché in this place.

  The clipped staccato of kitten heels echoed up the hall, blending with deep voices carrying light tones and laughter that struck out of place in such an austere setting. Mitch glanced up to see the familiar figure of Dimitrius’ assistant, Beatrice coifed and professional as usual.

  Following at a leisurely pace came the unfamiliar form of a half-dressed Dimitrius and Tyran, both wearing only a pair of loose linen pants cropped just above the ankle, chests bare and streaked with red marks.

  “Good evening, Mr. Harris.” Beatrice greeted him in her crisp British accent.

  “Hello.” Mitch stood and met her in front of the staircase. “I’m a bit early.”

  “Quite all right, I assure you.” Beatrice lowered her voice. “Though I’ll warn you, they’re in rare form tonight.”

  Dimitrius continued laughing and joking with Tyran in a language Mitch didn’t recognize. Usually, Dimitrius spoke in a more modern accent, but when he was with his friends and the mead began to flow, he slipped into a way of speaking that Mitch would expect to hear at a Renaissance faire. Except, coming from Dimitrius, the words held a completely authentic quality, not the theatrical affectation presented by actors.

  “They’ve been sparring,” Beatrice explained. Her words hinted that term meant something different when it applied to them. Though, Mitch couldn’t guess what it was.

  Each man carried a sword. The one in Dimitrius’ hand, Mitch remembered seeing displayed above the mantel in the main room upstairs. It always drew his eye immediately upon entering the enormous space. Sometimes he saw it twinkle in his peripheral vision. Grasped now, in Dimitrius’ hand, he would swear it had a life of its own.

  Just when Mitch was starting to wonder if they’d even noticed him, Dimitrius held his arms wide and grinned.

  “Mitchell! Hail and well-met, my friend!” His voice rolled across the marble with a resonance that would have made any well-trained Shakespearian actor melt with envy.

  Both men were honed to a form Mitch only believed existed in sculptures crafted by masters like Michelangelo and Bernini. He nearly laughed at the absurd perfection of their bare chests, but he held himself together, sucking in his own softening abdomen instead.

  “Sorry to drop in on you like this,” Mitch said. Now that they were near, Mitch saw the red marks were cuts—a few deep enough they were still oozing. “You’re bleeding.”

  Dimitrius waved him off. “A few scrapes. Tyran’s been feisty with his stick this afternoon.”

  “Mayhap his grace was a bit sluggish today,” Tyran murmured, eyes sparkling with good humor.

  “I must indulge him on occasion, you see, in order to sustain his ego,” Dimitrius told Mitch.

  “Nay.” Tyran chuckled. “My liege has pushed the reach of perfection so high that none may ever hope to attain it.”

  “And he indulges me just the same.” A wordless but tangible exchange passed between the two men before Dimitrius turned back to Mitch. “You’ll be staying for dinner, yes?”

  “I don’t want to impose.” He was already losing his courage.

  “Not at all. It would be my honor.” Dimitrius didn’t wait for him to accept. “Beatrice, please escort Mitchell to my study. I’ll be with you shortly.”

  It all happened so fast. Mitch trailed Beatrice upstairs while Tyran and Dimitrius veered down the hall on the first level. Maybe it wasn’t necessarily bad to have a minute to himself. At least it would give him an opportunity to rehearse what he wanted to say.

  A fire blazed in the enormous fireplace, melting the cold numbness in his ears and fingertips that Mitch hadn’t even noticed. Beatrice held out a tumbler filled with an amber liquid.

  “No, thank you.” He’d thought about it coming in, but he should probably keep his mind clear. Dimitrius had a particular way of talking around things that sometimes left his head spinning. “I won’t be drinking tonight.”

  “He’ll expect you to have it,” she said.

  There was no judgment or implication. It was a simple fact. He’d already deviated from his normal behavior by showing up early. If he wanted to play his cards close he couldn’t do anything else to raise suspicion. He traded his coat for the drink.

  “Make yourself comfortable.” She smiled. “He won’t be long.”

  The nerve to tell Dimitrius of his retirement slipped away with each tick of the antique clock on the shelf. His mind drifted back to Deirdre, and her body in the morgue. Maybe he shouldn’t be so annoyed with her after all.

  With his government salary, he hadn’t been able to bring much to the table when he married her. His father-in-law had reminded Mitch of that fact whenever he stopped by the condo he’d signed over to his daughter as a wedding gift. She’d married beneath her, and Mitch had further proven that when he left.

  The Scotch burned his tongue, then melted into a warm numbness. He smelled the oak and pitch of the barrel it had been aged in. Something this exclusive was really too good to pass up.

  Deirdre had never cared about the taste. Not really. Aged Scotch or cheap tequila, both were simply a means of escape. A way to numb the pain of losing her father to a coronary when he wasn’t that much older than Mitch was now.

  At first it was something Mitch thought she just needed to get through. Everyone had a different grieving process. She’d been the definition of a Daddy’s Girl, so the sudden loss hit her especially hard.

  Mitch did his best to give her space and understanding, throwing himself into his career with the Bureau. After awhile—too late—he realized she needed more help than time could give her.

  It was one of the reasons he’d become so invested in Sidney. The tragedy of her parents’ deaths affected her deeply. There was no doubt about that. However, her short-lived drinking and experimenting with drugs had thankfully been a rebellion instead of an addiction. Giving her something worthwhile to focus on proved to be exactly what she needed to straighten out and move forward with her life.

  “Your mind is elsewhere this evening.”

  Mitch lifted his gaze to Dimitrius. The man stared at him intently, waiting with a patience that could only come from a great deal of practice. There was no telling how long he’d been standing there.

  “It’s been a long day.” Mitch turned back to the fire. Anyone else would have continued the conversation with simple pleasantries, but Dimitrius had never been that shallow or uninterested. He waited for Mitch to continue with the important information. “My ex-wife died.”

  “I’m terribly sorry. What might I do to ease your troubles?” It was a genuine question. Mitch could see the truth of it in Dimitrius’ dark eyes. Even though it was difficult to broach the subject, he owed him nothing but honesty in return.

  “Now that she’s gone, there’s nothing keeping me here. Peters is perfectly capable of handling operations at the agency. Lake’s begging to become a full agent. You don’t need me anymore.” A knot formed in Mitch’s throat at the idea of not being useful to anyone and it was a lot harder to deal with than he’d thought.

  “I’m ready to retire.”

  Dimitrius locked his reaction down tight. Blank slate.

  Mitch waited him out, fighting the urge to respond any further. It was a natural instinct for anyone to fill uncomfortable silences. To apologize and reassure. All of his instincts told him to open his mouth, but he kept it clamped shut.

  A knock sounded at the door and Dimitrius granted entry. Beatrice brought in a tray and placed it on the rough hewn work table at the back of the study. She began to unload it, but Dimitrius waved her away.

  “Thank you, Beatrice,” he said calmly. “See that we’re not disturbe
d.”

  “Yes, sir.” The assistant left, shutting the door behind her gently.

  Dimitrius went to the table and set up the meal himself, speaking as he placed everything in precise order.

  “The human mind can be deceitfully cunning at times. We all have a peculiar way of creating falsehoods we tell ourselves to make the difficult and necessary things we must do more palatable.” Dimitrius offered Mitch a seat at the end of the table and he took the one directly across. “I am as guilty of this particular form of self-deception as anyone.”

  The scent of freshly roasted chicken and root vegetables hit Mitch’s nose and his stomach rumbled. The oysters had long burned off and his mouth watered in anticipation of the comfort food on his plate.

  “What have you lied to yourself about?” he asked, before he dug in.

  Dimitrius laughed heartily. “The mendacities I’ve conjured in the interest of self-preservation rival the grains of sand on the shore, my friend.”

  Mitch couldn’t help but be charmed by his easygoing dismissal, but he also noticed he didn’t answer the question. Dimitrius dipped his roll in a dish of honey and ate it.

  “You say Ms. Lake is ready to become a full agent,” Dimitrius said. “What are your thoughts on the matter?”

  The subject change was abrupt, and it took a second for the gears in Mitch’s head to grind to a halt and switch direction.

  “She’s still young. Impetuous. Intuitive. Smart as hell. With time and more training, she’d be a valuable asset,” he said.

  The chicken was so tender, it melted on his tongue. It was glorious. Doubt niggled in the back of his mind. If Mitch retired, there was no way he’d ever get to experience food like this again. No more bougie mead or Scotch older than he was.

  “You’ve spoken before of Ms. Lake’s quick-fire nature,” Dimitrius continued. “How easily do you think she can be managed away from her desk?”

  Mitch recalled the way she’d caught him off guard when he’d been following her, and he couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face.

  “She’s not the type to be managed at all, behind a desk or anywhere else. Sidney does what she wants. She’s tenacious. You might be able to give her a big fence, but she won’t tolerate a leash.”

  Dimitrius cast his eyes to his drink, still enigmatic and unreadable as he soaked in the information. “You believe attempting to keep her in the office will drive her to explore on her own, unsupervised?”

  Mitch nodded. “Better to give her a taste of what she wants with some guidance, than have her learn the hard way.”

  “Indeed.” Dimitrius turned to Mitch, his dark gaze intense. “You would entrust this task to Peters?”

  Mitch saw the direction he was going in. “He’s capable.”

  “And she is headstrong.”

  Mitch took a drink to buy himself some time to think. The corner of Dimitrius’ mouth turned up, though the wistful smile didn’t light up his eyes.

  “Ms. Lake holds a determination only the folly of youth can provide.” Dimitrius took a long swig of his drink, his bright mood draining away as quickly as the contents of his glass. “She has suffered a great deal in her short life. I dare not wish on her the wisdom that can only come from forming a better acquaintance with the world. Though unfortunate, perhaps it is inevitable.”

  Mitch thought about Deirdre and how losing her father had forced her into a better acquaintance with the world, as Dimitrius had put it. Not able to withstand the pressure, she’d crumbled and become a shell of her once vibrant self. Sidney, however had come through her own gruesome ordeal, all at once stronger and wiser, yet still innocent in so many ways.

  “Sidney’s a survivor,” Mitch said.

  “But what is to be said for mere survival? It is only the smallest step above death itself. We must all survive, or perish.” Dimitrius sat back in his chair picking thoughtfully at his food.

  “I once came upon a wild rose that had sprung up from the crevice of a stone.” Dimitrius settled back, and placed his fork down. “It was beautiful in its persistence and determination. Strong in its will to simply exist. An anomaly in an unforgiving environment, yet, against all odds it not only survived, but flourished. It was truly a marvelous wonder to behold. Despite its diminutive size, the blossom transformed that barren rock, bestowing upon it vitality, worth, and unspeakable beauty.”

  Mitch contemplated the parable in careful silence while he ate.

  “But was it the rose that was singular or the location which made it so? Had the same blossom flourished on a vine among others of its kind, would it have stood out as remarkable? Or even noticeable at all?”

  Dimitrius sat back, crossing his arms over his wide chest and scratched at the dark shadow on his boxy jaw as he contemplated his own question.

  “Without a rose to shelter and cultivate, what are you and I but worthless stones in an unforgiving wasteland, Mitchell?” Deep lines formed across Dimitrius’ forehead, and at last Mitch caught a glimpse of his inner thoughts.

  “Well.” Mitch downed the rest of his drink and placed his tumbler on the table with a small thud. “That’s grim.”

  Dimitrius chuckled. “Forgive me, I seem to have steered the conversation down a path of melancholy.”

  “It happens to the best of us.” Mitch finished up and moved to the couch by the fire while Dimitrius freshened their whiskey.

  He returned Mitch’s glass and raised his own for a toast. “To your retirement.”

  Mitch held back. “You’re not going to try to talk me out of it?”

  “Is there any persuading to be done?” Dimitrius sank into his usual chair. “You appear to have your mind made up.”

  “I did.” Mitch shook his head. “I do.”

  “Death can cause us to question a great many things,” Dimitrius said gently. “But don’t allow your mind to deceive you from the truth. Ms. Lake needs you. We all do. However, the path is yours alone to tread, and so the decision belongs to no one else but you.”

  Up until now, Mitch had looked after Sidney because she was a human being and it was the right thing to do. Underlying that was an enormous guilt and responsibility for never having caught her parents’ killer. But now he saw her in an entirely new light.

  A rose in a stone. Powerful in her determination to thrive in the harsh environment where fate had planted her. Something ignited within him, a flame of fierce loyalty he’d never felt for anyone or anything else before.

  “She deserves so much more than I could ever give her,” Mitch admitted.

  “Forgive me if I remain uninspired by your cowardice,” Dimitrius went heavy on the sarcasm, but Mitch’s neck still burned in shame.

  “I’m not afraid,” he insisted.

  “Abandoning her is the brave decision, then?” Dimitrius waved off his response. “That’s unfair of me. I apologize. You are your own man. If this is what you truly desire, I will not stand in your way. I hope for you nothing but happiness and contentment, wherever your journey leads you.”

  “Thank you.” Mitch shook his hand. After a few more pleasantries, he made his exit.

  Outside once again, the brisk wind cut through to his core, but the hearty meal and strong drink kept him warm enough as Mitch set off into the night with a mind much more resolute than before.

  Sixteen

  The lights rose in full force. Party over.

  The crowd bottlenecked at the doors to the exhibit. Williams moved to join but Sidney snatched his hand, holding him back.

  “We don’t get to see the koalas?” Williams’ face fell. “I wanted to take a picture for Rachel.”

  “Don’t worry,” Sidney assured him. “You’ll get your chance.”

  The woman who’d introduced Hutch before his speech approached the table. She spoke a few words of rushed sympathy to Hutch’s mom, and then turned to Sidney, enthusiasm welling over in her greeting.

  “Ms. Lake! Hi, I’m Elinor, the director here at the zoo. It was so exciting to g
et your messages this afternoon. I’m so thrilled you could make it this evening.” She pulled Sidney in for a giant hug. When she let go, her round brown eyes welled with unshed tears. “What you’ve done for us tonight. I can’t even express the depth of our gratitude.”

  Hutch’s mother paused a few steps away, listening in.

  “It was nothing. If Lake Industries can help continue Peyton’s legacy, that’s all that matters.” Sidney smiled warmly.

  “If you’ll come this way, I’ll walk you through our facilities. Cinnamon and Oatmeal are excited to meet you. Oh, and I’ve got a reporter for the Times who’d appreciate a comment for a feature they’re working on. Hope that’s okay?”

  “Absolutely,” Sidney agreed.

  “Fabulous!” Elinor grinned. “Right this way.”

  Williams scooped his arm around Sidney’s and kept his voice quiet. “What are you up to?”

  “We’re doing a tour.” Sidney told him.

  He tugged her arm. “Are we gonna get to meet the koalas?”

  “For a hundred-grand, we fucking better,” she muttered.

  Williams tripped over a chair.

  “Did you say—”

  “Shh!”

  “Ms. Lake, hi.” A woman offered her hand to Sidney. “Angela Harcourt, New York Times.”

  “Pleasure. This is my friend Graham Williams.” Sidney and Williams greeted the woman and her photographer.

  The group followed Elinor through the side of the tent, across a short walkway and into a building with a long, bland hallway.

  “As you can see, we’ve already completed our latest update and newest addition to the zoo with the Animals of the Outback exhibition. With the donations from this evening, we’re adding state-of-the-art rehabilitation facilities, and extra space for our animals in each of their exhibits.” Elinor showed them down the hall.

  “This building used to house the city’s arsenal.” Williams gazed around the halls while he spoke to Sidney. “There’s a story about a group of militiamen who were here training. One of the guns went off accidentally during drills. Guy got a musket ball through the eye. He’s supposed to still roam the halls looking for it. I was going to do an episode about it for my show.”