Strange Case, an Urban Fantasy (Hyde Book III)

by Stewart, Lauren

  “Neither.” What she wanted was for him to make it untrue. For Landon to continue his story and end it with a simple solution that had no downside at all. That Mitch’s humanity didn’t come with the risk of fatality.

  She’d made things worse because she was so impatient to have him back. If she’d waited one more day, they would’ve known. If she’d gone after the scientists right away, instead of spending a few days staring at Hyde and wishing things were different, they would have answers.

  If Mitch died, it would be her fault—her impatience, her desire to have him back over-riding all thought. It would all be on her.

  “I followed Steve’s directions for the RLS-7 exactly.” Landon touched her on the arm. “He was scared enough and stupid enough for me to believe him. And you know how cynical I am. One of us will shove a needle into him as soon as he twitches, and he’ll be fine. Well, he’ll be Hyde which creates its own problems, but at least none of them will be death.”

  Mitch pulled her into his side. “I’m not sure how much you’re helping, man.”

  “Yeah, well… Here.” He held one of the syringes out. She took it without really seeing and slipped it into the pocket of her thin jacket. “Steve said another scientist might have been working on a long-term solution. Someone has to know what it is.”

  “We need to focus on that, babe. Moving forward. If the reversion-stuff works, we’ll deal. If it doesn’t work, you’ll deal.” He paused. “That didn’t help either, did it?”

  “We should go while you’re still you,” she said, her voice hollow. The peace and happiness she’d felt a little while ago became just another memory. “Once we’re in a safer location, we can figure out what to do next.”

  “Come here, drumstick.” He smiled, lifted her into his arms, and then walked to the door.

  “Put me down.” She didn’t mean to snap, but it came out that way. “Just in case we need to fight.”

  “Or run,” Landon said.

  “No more running.” She wouldn’t run anymore. Running away left your back exposed. And they’d been stabbed too many times already.

  “We need to leave South Florida now that The Clinic is back on their feet and carrying guns.”

  “Now we have something to run towards,” she said, “but we still don’t know which way to go.”

  “We find another one of their labs,” Mitch said.

  “Oh, is that all?” Landon rolled his eyes. “Unfortunately, they don’t have a website, nor have they helpfully named any of their labs ‘The Clinic’. So considering how many years it took me to find the one here—”

  “They were holding the guy who started the whole thing here.” Mitch spoke calmly and confidently, helping them feel the same, even though Eden wasn’t sure they had reason to. “You’d think it would be the most hidden and probably the biggest. But there were no real power-players there, no one making the big decisions. Alex was in charge and she buckled with some minor—yet painful—pressure. If companies that specialize in lying and torture are anything like companies that specialize in lying and business, then we aim for the funding. Once the decision-makers are gone, the other labs will domino.”

  Eden agreed—when you’re trying to kill something, you aim for the head or the heart. A strike anywhere else just drew things out. “Four labs are testing one of the drugs named in the files—GU-121. So if we assume whoever’s in charge of The Clinic is associated with one of the four…”

  Mitch looked at both of them with remorse. “I don’t expect you to do anything more than what you’ve already done for me. Because that’s— Yeah, that’s already too much. But if I were going to stay human, I’d head straight for Dallas.”

  “Why Dallas?”

  “I was a little distracted when you filled me in,” he said to her. “So I guess I could’ve missed something or a lot of somethings. But a Texas University is the one claiming one of the drugs is theirs. And there was a note about that guy who published something about it—Danvers? He works out of Dallas, right?” He looked at Landon whose eyes seemed to be getting larger by the second. “Eden told me you’d found a flight number in Alex’s planner. Could it have been to Dallas?”

  “Or a few dozen other places,” Landon mumbled, but he had to know that things were stacking up way too neatly for them to have missed.

  “True, but when I met Jolie she’d just moved to Fort Lauderdale from—you guessed it—Dallas. I know it’s not a sure-thing, but every time we think something is coincidental, we’re wrong.”

  Eden’s sigh was long and tragic. “Fields mentioned it too. He thought Alex was from the Fort Worth area. Fort Worth and Dallas practically share a backyard.”

  Landon swore. “Steve said something about Bradford coming straight from Texas.” He pulled out his phone and started checking something. “How the hell did we not put all of this together?”

  Because she and Landon been taking things apart, not putting them together. If they’d actually been working together instead of separately—her fault—they might have noticed the forest instead of only been focused on cutting down trees.

  “You’ve been looking at the same shit for a long time,” Mitch said. “I heard it all back to back, with ears and a brain that haven’t been used in over a week.”

  “So we go to Texas?” she asked.

  Mitch’s smile was sad, guilty even. “I don’t get a vote because pretty soon I won’t be able to do any of the heavy lifting. Or much of anything.”

  Eden looked to Landon. “You decide.” Because, despite their differences of late, she trusted him and knew how smart he was.

  “I think…I think we should go and see. It makes more sense than anything else we’ve got. And it’s what I would do if I were still a detective and this was a normal case. Get someone inside the lab itself to see if there’s a connection between it and the one here—money, people, whatever. Of course, I’d call the precinct there and have them do the legwork, but that was a different life.”

  “Sorry,” Mitch said quietly.

  She squeezed his hand. “We’re all doing what we can.”

  “Yeah, well…I’m doing a fantastic job of being a weight on everybody’s shoulders. Like a dumbbell, emphasis on ‘dumb’.”

  “I can carry it for a little while longer, man,” Landon said as they began to gather supplies—food, water, files, syringes, and vials. “But you’re going to owe me big, like glacially big.”

  “I thought I already did.”

  “I’ll do it for your car.” He smiled. “And a pony. Your car and a pony.”

  “Sounds completely fair. What do you want, drumstick?”

  Just you. But she already had that. In as much as he could give her. “If we make it through this, I want you to take whatever drug you have to without argument. And I want a vacation on an island somewhere. And as many Piña Coladas as I can drink.”

  He nodded.

  “I also want a house in the suburbs with a big bed and a picket fence and a dog. And you aren’t allowed to scare the neighbors. And I want new shoes. Lots of shoes. And a new wardrobe because the one I have is tragic. And I want nowhere to go and nothing to do and no one to fight.”

  His eyes were warm. “You got it.”

  “I’m not done yet.”

  His smile grew. “Okay.”

  “I want a ring.”

  Landon snorted.

  Mitch’s eyes widened briefly and then he simply said, “Done.”

  They looked at each other in comfortable silence until Landon cleared his throat, reminding them that they could stare at each other some other time.

  “I need to call Chief Fuller and warn him.”

  “And I need…” Mitch took a deep breath. “Some fresh air.” He held his hand up to Eden. “Alone. And I promise not to go far. Or die. I just need to think for a sec.”

  She didn’t tell him he couldn’t or ask him what he needed to think about. Instead, she forced herself to nod. He took the car keys from Landon and grabbe
d as many of the bags as he could.

  Before he left, he said, “I’ll be right out front. So both of you can ogle me from the door if you need to.”

  Peeking through the half-opened door, she watched him load the car and heard Landon tell his old chief that he should take his family on an extended vacation.

  “And Fuller?” Landon asked. “If you say anything about us, I can’t be held responsible for what happens. People say all kinds of things under duress—some true and some not. If they get ahold of me, the first thing out of my mouth will be your name and how helpful you’ve been.”

  After another quick warning, Landon hung up. The lines on his face seemed deeper somehow, in just a few minutes. “I threatened a police chief. No matter how much of an asshole he is…I threatened a police chief.” Landon was a good man and, for the most part, played by the rules. Using the system for something outside of them had to be hard for him.

  She didn’t feel guilty about it though. Not about anything they’d done or anything they would do. “It was necessary.”

  “Sure.” He didn’t sound sure. Or look sure. “There will come a time when they realize all these threats are bluffs.”

  She shrugged. “That’d be true if we were bluffing.”

  He looked at her in wonder, his mouth open slightly. “You’re going after innocents now?”

  “I was innocent once,” she said. “So were Justin, Alicia, Shelly, Tara, even Mitch. And look what happened to us. Do you think The Clinic cared? Questioned if what they were doing was fair?” As much as she despised them, she also respected their ambition, their single-mindedness. They had a goal, they chose their allies, and they did what they had to. It’s what Mitch believed too. What he did for a living before they took it all away. Why he gave himself over to Hyde to save her.

  He did what he had to. And she’d do the same. One goal—to save him. After that she didn’t care what happened.

  A minute later Mitch came back inside, smiling. “Unfortunately, the air out there isn’t all that fresh. Did I miss anything?”

  Landon looked directly at her. “No. Everything is just fine.”

  Chapter X

  Craigslist is good for finding all kinds of shit for all kinds of people. Someone who will give you their old, unwanted, broken crap for free. Or someone who wanted a quick fuck and who uploaded a picture of his dick to prove just how quick he would make it. And most usefully, someone who was selling an old, possibly stolen, moving truck and a piece-of-shit compact.

  Being useful is a wonderful thing, and when you know there’s an expiration date on it, you fit in as much as you can, as fast as you can. Sometime soon Mitch would be completely dependent on the only two people he could stand. So yeah, knowing enough about engines to pick a truck and a car that would get them all the way to Texas without breaking down was a consolation. A really small one.

  Mitch negotiated the incredibly unfair trade—the Jag was worth five times the truck, the car, and the guy’s house. He didn’t care about making a good deal, but he needed the outlet. Arguing with the guy gave Mitch something to focus on, other than the woman clutching his side as if he’d disappear any second. Which he might. Or worse. If he died right in front of her—again—he’d hate himself more than he hated The Clinic.

  It was torture—knowing the game is about to change and there’s a really good chance you aren’t going to make it off the field. Or if you do, it won’t be on a stretcher—it will be in a body bag. And then you can look up from hell to see your reason-for-breathing weeping over your ugly corpse.

  After the keys were passed over, Mitch pried Eden off him and helped Landon transfer their stuff into the POS compact. The soft stuff like sleeping and duffel bags were tossed into the back of the moving truck. Anything that Hyde could damage or use as a weapon was packed in the car.

  “You owe me a Jag.” Landon put a cooler filled with The Clinic’s dope onto the passenger seat.

  “Are you kidding me? I just bought you this piece of shit, and you’re already asking for more?” He smacked the cop on the shoulder before jumping into the passenger side of the truck. Eden hadn’t taken her eyes off him since they left the brothel. He understood. He didn’t like it, but he understood.

  He waved at Landon to pull out first. “Next stop: Home Depot.” He smiled, hoping she would match it. Because all he saw now was nervousness and paranoia. He leaned over and turned the key, squeezing her leg as he straightened. While they drove, he kept his hand on her. Shit. His comforting skills were legendary. Really. A leg squeeze and saying something stupid would make her completely forget about his impending death. Sure.

  Lots of chain, a hacksaw, a few sheets of plywood, and a couple more man-toys later, they were back on the road, following Landon through a labyrinth to get to Fields’ place. They made so many turns and did so much backtracking, Mitch wasn’t sure if they were in West Palm or West Virginia.

  Eden needed to say goodbye to Fields and the teenagers, and a phone call wouldn’t suffice. Anything long-distance wouldn’t cut it—their lives were so unstable that not being able to touch someone meant you never really knew they were there or that they were alright.

  Plus, they had some time to kill before Mitch did the whole seizure-injection-transformation thing, and it would be safer to shoot him up and strap him down in a nice, quiet suburban neighborhood than on the side of the freeway somewhere.

  He kept his mouth shut and his eyes actively looking for danger. There wasn’t much to say because, fuck, small talk was a bit too small for a situation like this. And he couldn’t think of anything useful or encouraging to say. ‘Nice driving’? ‘Stop crying’? ‘It’ll be okay’? All fairly disappointing phrases in terms of last words.

  So he’d wait until he could think of something profound to say. Which would probably take about twenty more years than he had.

  “I can’t lose you,” she whispered without looking at him.

  Think of something deep, asshole. “If you had nothing—no money, no clothes, no me—you’d make it through. Because the other option is unacceptable. And if you think I’m an asshole as a man, just imagine what a fucking menace I would be as a ghost.” Not good, he thought when he saw her flinch. As he undid his seatbelt, she shot him a warning look. But seriously? As if something as mundane as a car accident was his biggest concern? Lightening can only strike you so many times before you have to realize that you just weren’t meant to be.

  “Keep your hands on the wheel and your eyes on the road.” Not for him. So that she didn’t get banged up if they hit something. He moved into the middle of the bench seat and put his arm around her. Legendary.

  “It’s different for me,” she said. “I barely even feel Chastity anymore—she’s too much a part of me. And it never hurt.” She chewed on her lip. “It’s painful inside of him, isn’t it?”

  If she didn’t feel it, then it was very different for her. Whether it was for the same reason she’d been able to integrate the best parts of Chastity into her or because both of Eden’s parents had been Abnormals, he didn’t know. Either way, he was glad she was different.

  “It’s manageable.”

  “Ever since he took over, you’ve been awake inside of him, right? Not sleeping like you used to. He—” Her voice broke. “He said you were screaming.”

  Motherfucker. “You gonna believe him or me?” Maybe before he transformed, he should cut out his tongue. “It’s like a nap.” A nap? What a fucking liar. But if she knew how void it was inside of Hyde, how cold, how painful, she’d be even more upset.

  “Eden, I need to know you’ll be okay. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I expect some mourning. Like…at least a few months. Maybe a year of heavy-duty sadness—wearing black, lighting candles, silent weeping, all that shit. But then I want you to come out of it. Do all of the shit on your bucket list, screw anyone—” That’s a topic best left untouched. “Do whatever you want. Live. Maybe think of me whenever you watch a horror movie.”

&nbs
p; “Horror movies don’t seem that scary anymore.” Her lips were tight, her grip on the wheel tighter.

  “You stick with Landon and let him be part of your life.” Oh shit. What if the two of them got together after he croaked? Was he okay with that? Noooooo. If he was okay with anyone, it would be Landon. But since he wasn’t okay with anyone, Landon was a no-go too.

  “And you move on,” he continued. “Buuuut, with that said, I have no plans for kicking it anytime soon. Unless it’s with my feet up, a beer in my hand, and you sitting in my lap. So no worries.”

  “No worries?”

  He tapped the pocket where she’d put one of the syringes. “If that shit is going to work, there’s no one I trust to stick me more than you.” This was not a good conversation to have side-by-side, doing seventy on the highway. This was one of those conversations that should be happening face-to-face, with deep, meaningful looks, holding hands, being able to see and touch each other. Without the threat of vehicular manslaughter if somebody needed to study their feet or their hands for a sec while they regroup.

  “I need you to try, Mitch. I need you to…live.”

  He didn’t ask which way she meant that because both ways were pretty grim. “I’ll try, babe. I promise you, I’ll try harder than I’ve ever tried anything.”

  She needed him to live. He’d never felt necessary before—that his presence made anyone’s life easier, let alone better. But she needed him. He thought he’d done the right thing when he gave himself over, sacrificed his life for hers. But all he’d done was put them both in a cage. Separate cages. Each of them with their fingers crossed that the person on the other side of Hyde’s walls would be okay.

  It was that damn reality that kept screwing things up. Because in reality, he couldn’t stick around for much longer. She’ll be alone and might not be able to move on. And didn’t that just suck the big one.

  What if she couldn’t let go of him? What if she felt the same way he did—that without the other puzzle piece, nothing fits, nothing works, nothing matters? Hopefully it wasn’t that way for her. That he wasn’t a necessity like water or air.