All the Wounds in Shadow

by Anise Eden

  My heart liquefied and melted into my shoes. How indescribably horrible it must have been for Ben to find his father like that. I couldn’t even imagine… and I had made him feel even worse? “Ben, I’m so sorry….” But I had no more words.

  He looked up at me, his face a mask of self-reproach. “And you would have never been in danger if I hadn’t brought you here.”

  Like bellows blowing life into banked coals, Ben’s words sparked my indignation. I hated that he blamed himself for so many things that weren’t his fault, for other people’s choices—for mine. I raised my voice, desperate to pull him out of his spiral of guilt. “Don’t you dare hold yourself responsible for things I do! I’m an adult; I take full responsibility for my own actions. You were right. I didn’t think things through today, at least not completely. Everything that happened today was my doing, not yours.”

  And it was my doing, all of it. I flashed back to the moment in Ernesto’s store when I’d been so scared I couldn’t move. Ben’s words slowly began to sink in: You were in danger. And he was right—I could have died. That thought pulled the air from my lungs and I began to tremble. Blackness crept in around the edges of my field of vision and stars began to form in the middle. “Ben….”

  He slid over next to me. “Cate?”

  As he wrapped his arm around my waist, I was able to gasp in a little air, then a little more. “Breathe, just breathe,” he said, holding me against him. “It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

  We stayed like that for several moments. Finally, the portal between us opened, and his affection and concern flowed through, washing over me. Eventually my breathing normalized. I focused on the sensation of his arm, warm and firm, wrapped around me, and let my head fall against his shoulder.

  “Are you all right now?”

  “Yeah, I think so.” Embarrassment sent flashes of heat across my cheeks. “I guess I’m not as brave as some people think.”

  With exquisite tenderness, Ben smoothed a few stray pieces of hair away from my face. “We both know that’s not true.”

  But I didn’t want to talk about me anymore. I wanted to shift the focus onto Ben, and to find some way to ease his pain. “I’m so sorry about your father,” I whispered. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Not now.” He pulled the cuff of his shirt over his thumb and used it to dry the tears I hadn’t realized had fallen on my cheeks. “Another time.”

  “Okay.” I nodded, relieved that at least the subject was finally open.

  He stroked my cheek. “I love how much you care about people, even people you don’t know. And as much as it drives me crazy, I even love how courageously you act when you think it’s going to help me or someone else. But today you were trying to steer around an iceberg when all you could see was the tip. That’s why I asked you to talk to me before you rush in to solve things. I might see things that you don’t—especially in a situation like this where you’re out of your element. The opposite is also true: there are situations where you’ll see things that I won’t. That’s one of the benefits of working together, as a team—we’re stronger, smarter, more resilient.”

  I peered up at him. The idea of Ben and I forming agreements with one another felt both comforting and oddly confining. “I know what you’re saying makes sense. I’m just not used to consulting with other people before I do things.”

  “I know. I’ll tell you what,” he said. “For now, just promise to talk to me before you do anything that could get you killed. Can you agree to that?”

  I had to work hard to suppress a smirk. “Yes.”

  “Good.” Softly, his finger traced the contour of my cheek. “I feel better knowing that we both have your safety at the top of our priority lists.”

  “Hang on a second.” I frowned and pulled away from him just enough so that I could look at him face-on. “What about your safety? Isn’t that also at the top of your priority list? Because it’s certainly at the top of mine.”

  He gave me a heartbreaking half smile. “Oh no. That’s way down on my list.”

  I leaned back beside him, eyes narrowed. “That’s not fair!”

  “It’s entirely fair.”

  “How can that possibly be fair?”

  “I’m a marine, professionally trained to protect other people, remember? Putting my own safety further down on the list is part of the deal.”

  “You’re a ex-marine.” I poked him in the chest.

  “Yeah, about that,” he said, grabbing my poking finger and pulling my hand flat against his chest. “You’ve used the term ‘ex-marine’ before. I should probably tell you, there’s no such thing as an ex-marine. Some people even consider the term offensive.”

  If he’d thought that was going to derail our conversation, he had another thing coming. However, I certainly didn’t want to offend anyone. “I remember. ‘Once a marine, always a marine.’ What term should I use, then?”

  “Marine veteran is fine. Or former marine.”

  “Okay, got it. Thank you.” The temptation to start caressing his chest was too strong, so I pulled my hand back. “The point is, you’re a marine veteran, which means you don’t answer to them anymore. As the woman in your life, I say your safety should be at the top of your own priority list.”

  His eyebrows arched into sharp points, forming an m. “That didn’t take long.”

  “What didn’t?”

  “You getting comfortable with the idea of being the woman in my life.” The corners of his mouth twitched upwards. He slid his arm around me and began to rub circles into the middle of my back.

  His nearness was making my voice hoarse. “Don’t try to change the subject. How many people are above you on your list?”

  “Well, let’s see….” He ran his thumb along his jaw. “You’re number one, of course. Then comes my mother. Then Eve, Vani, Asa, Kai, any patients we’re treating, anyone in the vicinity who is in immediate danger of losing life or limb… then me.” He grinned. “Pete’s not on the list. He can take care of himself.”

  “That’s not funny!” I slid away from him. “There are way too many people on that list!”

  He shrugged. “That’s just how it is.”

  “Oh, so I don’t get to have any input into your decisions? You just get to have input in to mine?”

  “Of course you get to have input into my decisions,” he said, “a lot of input. Just not on this.”

  As I sat there steaming, my mother’s words from my dream about the geese came back to me: “You can give him that much, can’t you?” I didn’t like it, but they were both right. It did kind of make sense to defer to Ben in his area of expertise, at least. I realized that I just didn’t like the idea of deferring to anyone on anything. Maybe I had my own control issues to work on—not that I would ever admit that to Ben.

  I’d heard people say that relationships required compromise; was this the kind of thing they meant? I folded my arms across my chest. “Okay, look. I’ll give you this one—for now. But I reserve the right to revisit this subject in the future, anytime I choose.”

  An affectionate smile spread from his lips to his eyes, which flashed gold. “That’s very generous of you.”

  I tried hard not to smile back. “I know.”

  Ben rubbed his forehead, and all at once I saw the accumulated fatigue of the day writ large across his face. “You should get some sleep,” I said.

  “You’re right,” he impishly replied. “See? I listen to your input.”

  “Hah!” I picked up my pillow and tried to hit him in the chest with it, but he grabbed it just prior to impact. Then he used it to slowly push me down until I was lying back on the mattress, my resistance drained by the desire simmering in his eyes. We just stayed like that for several moments, lying there with the pillow between us, held hostage by a magnetic pull.

  Finally, with a heavy sigh, Ben got up off the bed. “You should get some sleep, too.” Leaning over to help me situate the pillow behind my head, he asked, “Do you need
anything before I go?”

  “Hmm.” I bit my lip. My whole body swirled with heat. I wished fervently that he would lie down next to me and stay the night, but I knew he’d never agree to that. “How about a goodnight kiss?”

  Ben immediately obliged, and despite our virtuous intentions, we forced sleep to wait for us a little while longer.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ParaTrain Internship, Day Three

  “Miss Duncan,” Captain Abbott bellowed. “It has come to my attention that you were not pleased about being put under guard after you returned from your little field trip yesterday.”

  Not knowing how to respond, I looked pleadingly at Ben and Skeet, the only other occupants of the conference room. They remained silent.

  “Ben tells me that he thinks it’s safe to remove your guard now,” the captain continued, “but for some reason, that idea makes me uncomfortable. You don’t want me to be uncomfortable, do you, Miss Duncan?”

  “No,” I said, and it was true. At that moment, that was the last thing I wanted. But his glare told me that my answer was insufficient. “Sir?” I ventured.

  “Good,” he barked, “because I’m keeping the guard on. And rest assured, for the remainder of our time together, if you put so much as one toe out of line, it won’t be them you’re dealing with, but me. And believe me when I tell you that I will make dealing with them look like having an ice cream cone at Disneyland. Is that understood?”

  I swallowed hard and nodded.

  “Let’s get started then.” Captain Abbott pulled himself up to his full height and stared off at some point in the distance. “Thanks to Miss Duncan’s admittedly brave, but goddamned foolish stunt yesterday—”

  Ben gave me a subtle wink, as though to indicate that the captain’s words were intended as a compliment.

  “—We now have a good idea of what’s been going on here. The marines who assisted Miss Duncan pegged the men at the newsstand as CIA. Well, it turns out they were right. The information on the flash drive is somewhat jumbled and incomplete, and some of the files were encrypted. Nonetheless, we were able to gather enough evidence to prove that Dr. Belo was being spied on by some ambitious son of a bitch at the agency. He calls himself Anglerfish, and he runs a small, independent cell that includes three other agents. So far they’ve managed to keep their little project a secret, even from their own bosses. No doubt Anglerfish wants to make a name for himself and doesn’t want anyone else stealing the credit for his ideas, should they succeed. But we’ll see to it that his ideas do not succeed.” Captain Abbott pulled out a chair and sat down. “Skeet, would you like to fill Miss Duncan in?”

  “Certainly,” Skeet said. His boyish face had become drawn. “You know what Braz was working on—looking at how damage to the pineal gland affects morality, conscience, the sensation of having a soul. Well, it appears that the CIA has a problem, and Anglerfish thought Braz’s research might help them solve it.”

  “What problem?” I asked.

  “It would seem that CIA field agents suffer from such irritants as consciences, ethics, and senses of morality,” Skeet explained in a grim tone. “These things sometimes interfere with their willingness to perform certain unsavory tasks, particularly when it comes to things like torture and murder.”

  I grimaced.

  “My thoughts exactly,” Skeet said. “Apparently, Anglerfish was interested in finding out whether Braz and the oncology department would stumble across a cure for the common conscience via damaging the pineal gland. According to the information on the disk, their idea was to find a way to diminish a person’s moral sense without destroying it altogether. After all, someone with no sense of ethics at all might not see any point in remaining loyal to their agency or country.”

  “Oh my God,” I moaned. “That is so incredibly sick!”

  Ben added, “It looks like in a real sense, they were trying to create those dark armies Eve saw in her vision.”

  “Because that’s what the world needs, armies of government agents with no hearts, no souls.” I shuddered. “So, what—they were spying on Braz somehow, waiting to get the results of his research? I mean, I guess that wouldn’t be that hard to do if they had good enough hackers.”

  “And they do,” Ben said. “But that doesn’t explain how the CIA’s data ended up on a flash drive in a box of his cigarettes at the newsstand.”

  “Which brings us to you, Miss Duncan.” Captain Abbott tapped his finger on the table. “Ben spoke to Dr. Belo last night and told him what was on the disk, but he was still unable to recall the origin of the information or how he got it in the first place. The information on the disk is enough to launch an investigation, but we’ve scoured the contents, and it’s clear that Anglerfish’s group was very careful. All of the documents have been scrubbed of any identifying data, and the participants are all referred to only by their code names. We tried to get a positive ID on the two agents you encountered at the newsstand, but they seemed to know the location of every camera in a four-block radius, including inside the newsstand. They managed to get in and out without showing their faces, and their vehicle had fake tags. We think their code names are Lancet and Daggertooth, because the fourth member of the cell, Blackdragon, is female, judging from the pronouns used in their internal communications.”

  I wanted to kick myself for not being more observant while I was in Ernesto’s store. “I’m so sorry I didn’t get a better look at those agents. I just caught a glimpse, really, and there wasn’t anything particularly distinguishing about them….”

  “It’s not your fault,” Skeet said. “You were focused on other things, and besides, they make an art of not standing out. But if you can get a description or some kind of identifying information for at least one of these agents from Dr. Belo, it could be the break we need in our investigation.”

  I certainly shared his urgency in wanting to identify whoever had poisoned Braz. “I understand. I’ll do my best. But if you don’t mind, there are a few things I need before I talk to Dr. Belo again.”

  Ben said, “You name it.”

  “Well, first of all, Braz said that he was worried about his girlfriend, Jennifer. Skeet, he said you tried calling and e-mailing her but didn’t get any response. He’s worried that these CIA agents may have harmed her because she’s close to him. His friend at the newsstand said she came in there on Sunday, but is there anything else you can do to make sure she’s still okay?”

  Skeet nodded. “I can check with the university and find out if she’s been going to her classes. Braz said she was studying psychology at Georgetown. If that doesn’t work, we can get her home address and check there.”

  “Thank you. I know that would mean a lot to him. And I know this sounds strange, but is there any way you can find me a copy of a poem? It’s called ‘The Desolate Kiss,’ by Lewin Lima. I think it might be important.”

  “Of course.”

  “Thank you.” I turned back to Ben. “The last thing is about Braz’s office. The plants need watering.”

  All three men looked at me like I was a small dog dancing on its hind legs and balancing a ball on its nose.

  “I mean it!” A sudden bolt of despair drove tears into my eyes. “It’s not the plants’ fault that any of this is happening! Don’t you think there’s enough dying going on around here?”

  Skeet interjected. “Don’t worry. We have a tradition here that when someone leaves, the others adopt whatever plants they leave behind. I’ll see to it that all of Braz’s plants go to good homes.”

  “Thank you,” I said, blinking the tears back. “Oh, and Captain Abbott?”

  He turned, looking surprised that I dared to address him directly. “Yes?”

  “Thank you for guarding the newsstand. I’m sure Braz would appreciate that you’re keeping his friend safe.”

  Captain Abbott looked at me like I was some sort of strange species he had never seen before. “That’s none of your concern, Miss Duncan. I would advise you to stay foc
used on your part of the mission.”

  “Oh, I will. Sir,” I called after him as he and Skeet stood and headed out the door.

  Ben took my hands in his. “Don’t mind Abbott. He’s used to people cowering in front of him, not spontaneously expressing gratitude.” The lines in his forehead deepened. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

  I took a breath and released it slowly. It was time for me to earn my keep—not to mention maybe make up for some of the problems I’d caused the day before. “I want to be of some use here—without screwing things up, that is.”

  He put his hands on my shoulders and massaged gently. “Cate, you don’t owe anything to Braz or me or anyone else. You’ve already played a crucial role here. If you don’t feel up to this, just say the word.”

  A pool of affection formed in my heart. Knowing that I was more important to Ben than the mission made me more determined than ever to help him, to prove myself at least somewhat worthy of the feelings he had for me. Besides, I wanted to do what I could to bring Braz some justice, or at least a bit of closure, before he passed on.

  “No, I want to do this,” I said. “Really, I’m fine. As soon as Skeet gets me the poem, I’m ready to roll.”

  • • •

  By the time we reached Braz’s room, Kai was putting the finishing touches on Asa’s trance. My body automatically tensed up when I entered the hospital room. Ben must have felt my reaction. He slid his hand under my hair at the back of my neck and began gently massaging.

  He and Kai looked around a little awkwardly for a moment until I realized that they were waiting for me to tell them whether to stay or go. “Look, guys,” I said, “this is kind of nerve-wracking as it is. I think I would be more comfortable if you left Asa and me to work on our own.”