Bittersweet Darkness

by Nina Croft

  Heat washed over her. Then cold. She didn’t want to die. Not now. An image of Ash flashed up in her mind. In that moment, she craved his presence with a desperation she hadn’t known could exist. Needed him to wrap her up in his arms, tell her everything would be all right. Lie to her…

  “Is there someone I can call?” the doctor asked.

  She shook her head. “No. I’ll be fine.”

  Another lie. But this was too much on top of everything that was going on in her life. So she took a deep breath and pushed it to the back of her mind. She’d deal with it later. But really, what was there to deal with?

  It was just a matter of time.

  Only thing was she didn’t know how long.

  And there were things she needed to do first. She was acting on autopilot as Guy drove her to the office. Luckily, he didn’t try and talk to her; she wasn’t up to polite conversation.

  She sat down at her desk and started up the computer, then punched in her mother’s file, except it was gone. In its place was a label—a single letter—A. She went to her own file, thinking she could use the link that had taken her into the file yesterday. But the link was gone.

  She punched up file classifications. “A” was “Archived.”

  As she sipped her coffee, she cast her mind back to what she had read the previous day. Her mother’s file had been labeled with an F. She looked the reference up and found it corresponded to “Fund-raiser.”

  What the hell did that mean?

  She jumped up, strode across the room, and hammered on the colonel’s door, pushing it open without waiting for an answer. The colonel glanced up his eyes narrowing on her.

  “Faith, how are you?”

  She stepped into the room. “The file on my mother. It’s gone.”

  “Not gone. Merely archived. Father O’Brien thought it might be stressful for you. No child should see their parents like that.”

  She mulled that over. If it had come from the colonel, she would have considered it a load of bollocks; caring did not seem to be his strong point. But perhaps a priest might think like that.

  Then she remembered Father O’Brien’s cold eyes and decided no—whatever the reason her mother’s file was now unavailable—saving her feelings didn’t come into it. Without waiting to be asked, she took the chair opposite the colonel and studied him for a moment.

  “Okay, tell me. Why do you think Roth was involved in my mother’s death?”

  “Roth was in Carlisle at the time. He was in discussions to buy the company where your mother worked. We believe he met her there.”

  Something about this wasn’t right. That night, the front door had opened, she’d heard murmured voices, and a man had stepped into the hallway. And then…nothing.

  She had never been able to give the police a description of him. She was sure she’d seen him, but whenever she tried to pull his face into focus, something went blank in her brain.

  But he’d been blond, not black-haired. She’d swear on it, but she forced herself to nod. “Why? Why did he kill her?”

  “Who knows why these creatures behave as they do. Perhaps he was overcome by hunger. Perhaps he’d always planned to kill her. We don’t know.”

  “Where’s Tara Roth?”

  The colonel’s eyes narrowed at the change of subject. “She’s safe.”

  “I want to be in on the interrogation. If she knows anything…”

  “She’s unlikely to know anything about your mother. She was only three years old at the time and had no connection with Roth.”

  “Where did she grow up? What about her family?”

  “She was brought up in Yorkshire by an aunt—dead now. Her mother died when she was a baby and her father is unknown.”

  Or not.

  Faith had to convince the colonel that she was willing to believe, that he could trust her. First, she needed to see for herself, hear what Tara Roth knew, and make sure she was being treated okay. At least then Faith could set aside a little of her guilt.

  “So, if Roth killed my mother. What are you going to do about it?”

  “Good. I knew you would be with us once you learned the facts. So, Roth is a vampire.”

  Yeah, of course he was. But she bit back the words and gave an encouraging nod.

  “But we know very little about them. We also don’t know what allegiances he has, whether there are others like him. If we go up against him directly, what sort of retaliation can we expect?”

  “Have you tried to take him before?”

  “Twice. Both times the teams disappeared without trace.”

  “So you thought his wife would be an easier target.”

  “Exactly.”

  He sounded pleased that she’d caught on so quickly. But she couldn’t believe the immorality of his response. You didn’t target innocent people to get to their loved ones.

  “We’ll get what information we can from her,” he continued. “Then perhaps use her as leverage against Roth. Maybe even get him working for us, telling us everything he knows.”

  He was almost rubbing his hands together.

  “So where is she?” she asked again.

  “Downstairs.”

  “I want to see her.”

  “No reason why not. The next session is scheduled for this afternoon.”

  The next session—which meant they had already questioned her.

  …

  Unease had grown inside her, becoming a solid lump in her throat. She tried to swallow it as she followed the colonel down the corridor to the elevator. The colonel bent over the retinal scan, let them through, and they continued down a set of concrete stairs. Below ground all pretense of decoration had been abandoned. The walls were whitewashed and strip lighting ran along the ceiling.

  “How’s it going with Ashton Delacourt?” the colonel asked.

  “Good,” she replied. Something made her wonder if they were watching her or at least monitoring her movements, so she decided to stick to the truth as much as possible. “We had dinner last night. He says there might be a job for me at CR International. Apparently, they’re recruiting.”

  “Good work. That might be useful.”

  No way was she going undercover. Then she remembered the doctor’s words that morning. It probably wasn’t going to be an issue anyway.

  Finally, the colonel stopped in front of a metal door. He slotted in his card and bent down to clear another retinal scan. The lock clicked, and he pushed the door open and stepped into a small room.

  Faith followed him, her throat dry. She didn’t know what she expected, maybe Tara, but the room they entered was empty of everything, including people and furniture. The walls were white except for the one opposite the door, which had a black window of glass running the length of the room.

  The colonel stopped by the glass and pressed a button on the wall.

  “We’re ready.”

  He stepped back. Faith stayed behind him, unable to banish the sense of dread that lay heavy in her stomach.

  A light flashed on, revealing the room beyond. The window was a one-way mirror allowing them to watch the interrogation. Then everything stopped as she caught sight of the woman huddled in the corner of the room.

  Tara sat on the floor, her knees hugged to her chest, arms wrapped around her. As the light came on, she raised her head and blinked.

  Faith swallowed the gasp that rose up in her throat.

  The jeans and bright T-shirt were gone. Tara was dressed in gray sweats and a white tank top. The top was stained dark, and it took Faith a moment to realize it was blood. Her lip was swollen and one eye shut. Tearstains tracked down her cheek, and it was the sight of those that broke something inside Faith.

  “Is this necessary?”

  The colonel cast her a surprised glance. “Remember what Roth is,” he said. “Do you think your mother is the only innocent he has killed over the years? And do you really think this woman could be ignorant of his crimes?”

  She looked at Tara ag
ain and a wave of heat washed through her, followed by a blast of cold. Why hadn’t she expected this? She’d been deluding herself that the “good guys” wouldn’t hurt an innocent woman. Nausea rose in her throat, and she swallowed it down. The colonel had to believe they were on the same side. “I suppose so,” she said. “Has she told you anything useful yet?”

  “No, so far she’s refused to speak. She has a very high tolerance for pain.”

  Her stomach roiled, and she tried not to think what they’d done to discover that piece of information.

  “We’re going to try drugs this morning.”

  “Drugs. What sort of drugs?”

  “We’ve been working on something that’s a combination of a pain inducer and a truth serum. It’s still experimental, but we feel the risks are worth it.”

  He sounded proud of what they were doing. He was crazy.

  Faith forced herself to look back into the room. It resembled a doctor’s surgery, with an examination table in the center and her stomach stirred again as she realized there were restraints at each corner. Otherwise, the room was empty except for a sink in the opposite corner to where Tara sat.

  A door opened and two men walked in. One wore a white lab coat and pushed a small trolley; the second wore the uniform of the security guards. She was unsurprised when she recognized Adams. Had he been here yesterday morning as well?

  Faith’s mind worked frantically. How could she stop this? She couldn’t stand by and watch as someone was tortured. Even if Tara had been guilty of hideous crimes, this would still be wrong. There had to be lines you didn’t cross.

  “That’s Dr. Trenton. He’s the one who’s been developing the drug. We borrowed him from one of the other departments. He’s the best at his job.”

  And what was that—devising more effective ways of torturing people? Faith held the words in but her fists clenched at her side.

  Tara had gone still as the men entered the room, but there was fear in her eyes as they darted from the men to the table.

  “Stand up,” the doctor said, his tone completely blank.

  When Tara made no move, Adams crossed the room, leaned down, and grabbed her by the arm. She whimpered as he pulled her to her feet, and Faith saw she was more damaged than had been obvious. Her left hand was cradled against her chest as though it hurt to move. Her eyes fixed with terror on the table, and she started to fight.

  She was over a foot shorter than the guard, but she fought furiously, resisting every step. Faith found herself rooting for her under her breath. But it was foolish. Adams grabbed her other hand, the one held against her chest and crushed it in his fist. Tara let out a high-pitched scream and her body went limp.

  Faith moved instinctively, reaching for the gun at the small of her back, then remembered she hadn’t yet replaced the weapon. Besides, what had she been going to do—shoot the colonel and the doctor and Adams and everyone else between here and the outside world?

  No, she had to bide her time. She would do something about this. It had to be illegal. She would report it. Go higher up…

  But she was kidding herself. This was sanctioned. By whom she didn’t know, but she was guessing she’d be blocked if she tried to follow channels. No, she had to find another way to stop this.

  Adams hauled Tara across the room and onto the table, fastening her wrists and ankles at each corner. As he fastened the straps to her wrists, Faith could see the red marks, open sores, where Tara had presumably struggled against the restraints in the previous “session.”

  Adams stepped back. Faith had thought her unconscious, but Tara’s head rolled to the side so she was facing the mirror and her lids fluttered open.

  The expression of hopelessness in her eyes made Faith want to weep.

  The doctor came to stand beside her. “We don’t need to do this.” His voice was soft and Faith had to strain to hear his words. “Tell us everything you know about Roth and we’ll stop this. You’ll be given food, a shower.”

  Tara turned her head away and shut her eyes.

  The doctor glanced at the mirror and the colonel leaned forward and pressed the intercom. “Go ahead.”

  Faith forced herself to watch, not to look away as the doctor selected a needle and syringe from the trolley he’d wheeled up close to the examination table. The liquid inside was pale yellow. He tapped it once before injecting it into the blue vein that ran down Tara’s lower arm.

  For a minute, nothing happened and Faith breathed easier. Then Tara started to convulse, her muscles jumping and jerking. Her teeth bit down on her lower lip until blood trickled down her chin.

  “Tell me, and it will stop,” the doctor murmured.

  Faith glanced away; she couldn’t bear to watch. Her gaze caught on the guard, Adams, who stood at the foot of the table a slight smile on his face. A man who obviously enjoyed his work.

  Tara strained at her bonds now, her whole body writhing. Her head rolled toward them and her eyes opened. Faith took an involuntary step closer. Tara’s eyes were glowing with a strange crimson light. Was she hemorrhaging?

  “She’s dying,” Faith said to the colonel. “You have to tell them to stop—give her something.”

  The colonel must have reached the same conclusion; he reached for the button as Tara’s right hand broke free. Her fist slammed into the doctor’s face. The crunch of bone sounded loud and blood sprayed across the room. The doctor backed away as Tara kicked free of the ankle restraints. A noise was coming from her throat, more growl than scream.

  “How the hell…?” The colonel pressed the comm unit. “Get out of there!”

  The doctor and Adams were both backing away from the table. They’d reached the door when Tara broke free of her last restraint. She rolled onto the floor and leaped toward them, almost flying through the air. She slammed into the door as it shut behind them, then crashed to the floor. For a second, Faith thought she’d knocked herself out. But she was up on her feet. She turned to face the mirror and Faith drew in her breath. As she stalked toward them, her eyes glowed red, something stirring behind them. Had the drug broken her mind?

  But there was definite intelligence there as she surveyed the two-way mirror. She glanced around, picked up the doctor’s trolley, and hurled it at the glass. It bounced off, leaving no damage, and she growled her frustration.

  “Release the gas,” the colonel said into the intercom.

  A white mist oozed from the corners of the room, curling up from the ground to coil around Tara’s figure. She peered down, and despair filled her eyes. She mouthed something; Faith was sure it was “Christian.” Her legs gave way, and she collapsed to her knees, and toppled to the floor.

  “Interesting,” the colonel murmured as though this were some sterile scientific experiment, not a young woman’s life.

  Faith loathed him in that moment.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Will she be all right?” Faith asked, fighting to keep the disgust and hatred out of her voice.

  “From the gas—she should be. It will knock her out for an hour, but she should have no aftereffects.”

  Through the glass, Faith could see the room was already clearing, revealing Tara’s unconscious form curled in a fetal position in front of the mirror.

  “From the drugs…” The colonel shrugged. “Who knows? That didn’t go as expected. I think we’ll have to add enhanced strength as one of the side effects.”

  He turned from the mirror to face Faith. She quickly schooled her features to blankness.

  “I’m sorry, we didn’t get to hear anything interesting,” he said. “And I’m guessing the good doctor will suggest leaving the next session until morning. He’s probably getting his nose fixed.” He sounded amused.

  How could someone be so untouched by this? Is that what happened if you saw enough evil? You became immune?

  Faith never, never wanted to feel like that.

  The adrenaline drained from her system, leaving her shaky and sick. She had to get out of there.
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  “I’d like to come back for the next session,” she said, pretending to be unaffected.

  “Good. I was worried you’d be too squeamish to accept what has to be done. But I think you’re going to be an excellent addition to the team.”

  She kept her walk steady as she made her way back to the upper level. Only when she locked herself in the ladies’ room did she give in. There was nothing in her stomach, but she retched anyway, bile flooding her mouth.

  Afterward, she stared at her reflection and realized she was crying. Tears dropped in a trickle down her cheek. That wouldn’t do. She scrubbed at her eyes with the back of her hand, then splashed cold water over her face. Sniffing one last time, she blew her nose and patted her cheeks dry with a paper towel.

  Squeamish didn’t cover it.

  Despair. That’s what she felt. A deep, bone-numbing despair as though her whole world was been ripped down around her. All her life, all she’d ever wanted was to work for the good guys, to make the world a better place.

  This world wasn’t better.

  The hopeless expression in Tara’s eyes haunted her. And a new emotion rose up to drown out the despair.

  Rage.

  No one had the right to do that to anyone. To treat any human that way.

  She had to do what she could to save Tara. It would be the end of her career, but her future no longer mattered. The doctor had told her she needed to inform her employers. She was a risk. But this might also mean she ended up in prison. Did she want to spend her last weeks—or months or however long she had left—in a cell?

  A cell like Tara’s.

  If she did nothing, she didn’t think she could live with herself. It would be irrelevant where she was.

  But the thing that was really tearing her apart was Ash.

  He would hate her. If she’d told them straightaway that she’d recognized Adams, maybe they could have found Tara before they’d harmed her. Christian Roth had a lot of contacts. He might have at least been able to kick up enough fuss to ensure that Tara wasn’t tortured.

  But she hadn’t told them, because she believed the system.

  She’d been a naive idiot.

  Ryan once told her that there were no such things as bad guys and good guys, only shades of in-between. She hadn’t believed him then. And she still didn’t. Not really. She still believed there was good and bad, she was just no longer sure of who was what, and the uncertainty left her floundering.