Intrepid_A Vigilantes Novel

by Keri Lake

  “Bend your knees! Slowly.” The calm in his voice carried across on the suddenly stagnant air. It sounded so out of place, would’ve been almost comical, if not for the fact that I’d never been so fucking terrified in my life.

  My breaths turned to pants, and I mentally willed myself to deepen them. Breathe, Sera.

  Arm wrapped around the jib’s railing, I lowered my body to a crouch, gaze glue on Ty in the cage, who’d die a gruesome death if I couldn’t pull my shit together.

  Bent to a crouch, I sputtered a breath and dared a downward glance. My hand hovered right above that goddamn key, and to the right of my hand, twenty, or so, stories of black nothingness to the cement.

  Nausea gurgled in my gut, as I lifted my gaze, and swiped up the key, nearly dropping it when my robe fluttered again.

  “Oh, f-f-fuck!” My body juddered, and I curled my fingers around the metal and dragged myself to my feet.

  “You got this, baby! Turn around. Walk slowly.”

  A creak from behind steeled my muscles. The jib lurched and rattled with the breeze. I clung to the railing and craned my head back. The cable looked to be thinning with every second.

  And it pissed me off. So much so, I ground my teeth and made a determined walk, hand over hand, foot over foot, until I stepped back onto the cab’s narrow deck.

  I’d celebrate that shit later with a big fat tub of ice cream and a warm bath. Right then, I needed to get Ty out of the air.

  Two joysticks sat at either side of a chair, reminding me of the retro Battlezone game I once saw at Dave & Buster’s. If I had to guess, one controlled left and right, the other up and down, and I really didn’t give a damn at that moment which was which. I just wanted to get that cage moving. Plopping down into the chair, I fired up the crane and felt for the one that moved side to side, which happened to be the left control. I only tapped it at first, and it clicked. Another tap, it clicked again. I laid on the left joystick, elated when the jib cut through the night sky to the right. Floodlights along the arm and a blinking red light at the end of the jib provided some guidance and perspective. In seconds, the arm swung over the roof of the tower, and I let go of the controller, horrified to see it kept swinging.

  “Oh, shit!”

  Three quarters of the way across the roof, I tapped it left, and it rolled to a stop over the other edge of the building. Like those stupid claw machines at the grocery store where you have to deposit half your life savings to save one piece-of-crap stuffed animal. My stomach burned with the anxiety of possibly dropping my prize before the claw reached the safety zone.

  Small taps to the joystick brought it swinging the other way, the cage dangling about a hundred feet over the roof. With the other controller, I lowered it over what looked to be halfway across the building.

  A snap crackled through the air, and I watched in horror as the red light at the end of the arm bounced and the cage fell onto the rooftop.

  “Ty!” I jolted to my feet, hands plastered to the window in front of me, but I couldn’t see him clearly behind the roof access, or into the darkness where he’d fallen. Clambering out of the cab, I climbed back down the crane, the too-big drop only niggling my gut as I descended the ladder.

  Boots back on the ground, I booked it inside the building, my heart feeling as if it might explode inside my chest. Air burned with every swallow, until I gasped on the heavy thickness radiating across my ribs. Queasiness churned in my stomach with every floor I climbed, my nerves so frayed with fear and adrenaline, I was surprised I could keep moving. I tugged the phone from my pocket, and popped the flashlight again, letting it lead the way.

  Halfway to the top, I paused on the landing to catch my breath. I’d have handed over an ovary for a bottle of water right then, but I continued on, the sting in my legs and the heavy soles of my boots weakening my muscles with every ascending step.

  A figure stood at the top of the next level, clutching his arm, gun held loosely in his wounded hand, and I skidded to a halt. I raised the flashlight just enough to see Ty’s bruised, but handsome, face staring back at me.

  My body trembled with the urge to go to him, the yearning to wrap my arms around him drawing tears to my eyes. A wheeze of laughter flew from my mouth, cut short by the sniffles I fought to hide.

  Without a word, he descended the stairs toward me and, once in arm’s reach, yanked me into his body.

  “I was … so scared. You were going … to die.” The shivers wracked me as I stood with my arms wrapped tight around his waist. “I’ve never … been that scared in my whole life, Ty.” The relief of his embrace incited more tears, and I buried my face in his T-shirt to keep them from falling.

  He cradled my face, lifting my gaze to his. “I’m proud of you. Even if that was the dumbest fucking thing you’ve ever done. I could’ve lost you tonight. Christ, you almost slipped up there.” His lips pressed to my forehead, his harsh breaths scattering over my hairline.

  “I’m sure … I must’ve looked like an ass in my robe.”

  Ty chuckled, holding me tighter. “It’s a visual I’ll certainly never forget.”

  A burst of laughter flew from my chest, but withered with the panic still gripping my lungs. “My father, he—”

  “I saw.”

  I’d suspected it was Dax who’d called him, though I didn’t know for sure. Perhaps someone else. Someone more frightening than Dax and Tesarik combined. Whoever it was, whatever they’d said had given my father the impression that death was a better option, because no way Karl Kutscher would’ve been so quick to take his own life in vain, unless the alternative meant something far worse.

  Ty stepped back and clutched his arm again, drawing my eyes to the splotch of blood there.

  “Oh! You need to have that looked at!”

  “I’m all right. Just a scratch.” He smiled and winced, his jaw tight with the pain I imagined had struck him.

  The distant sound of sirens sent a wave of urgency beating through my body, and I wiped the tears shielding me from his face. “You have to go.”

  Lowering his gaze from mine, he nodded, and I caught the upturn of his brow.

  Sniffing, I stared down at my fidgeting hands, already braced for the answer to my next words. “I could … come with you.”

  “You have school. Jo. Your whole life, Sera. You can’t just walk away from that.”

  “And you can?”

  His brows pinched together as he shook his head. “I hear voices. I see things that aren’t there. My head isn’t right, but I wish it was. For you.”

  The sirens grew louder, more distinct. Multiple sirens that may have already arrived at the construction site. The last bit of sand slipping through the hourglass. My time with him had come to an end, yet I felt like I had so many things left to say. “You need to go.”

  Tears welled again, only that time, I didn’t hide them. I couldn’t.

  He lurched forward and cupped my face, thumbing the moisture on my cheek. “No regrets, Sera.” Fingers curled around my nape, he pulled me close, and the kiss to my lips felt like an apology, a tattoo of broken promises I’d wear every day after.

  Eyes shuttered, I focused on the taste of him, that warm cinnamon flavor and the softness of his lips, until his hand released me, the coldness settling in where he once stood.

  And the fissuring pain in my chest was the first crack of my heart, warning it was about to break.

  “No regrets.”

  The words hurt, physically ached, as they slipped out, like spitting ground glass and suffering the painful cuts in my mouth. Spinning around, I opened my eyes to find he wasn’t there, and I peered over the crumbing staircase spiraling twenty stories into the dark depths below me.

  “Wait!” I shouted down to him, and the chasing silence marked the somber echo of the void he left behind. “Wait!”

  38

  Sera

  One month later …

  The worst thing about insomnia wasn’t the exhaustion, or headaches, the irritat
ion, or the lack of concentration. I could’ve at least faced those symptoms.

  The worst part was the loneliness.

  It was strange to be on a campus in the middle of a city, surrounded by people all day, and still feel completely alone.

  I’d spent so many years hating my father, terrified of him, that I never truly grasped how deeply the loss of my mother had hurt me. The hole had always been there, but in my father’s absence, my being truly alone in the world for the first time, it’d somehow grown, along with Eli’s. Seven years of loss crashing over me, and I realized it didn’t boil down to acceptance, because who the hell could ever come to accept a death so profound?

  It was about crying the exact number of tears needed to become exhausted. To be so spent with grief, there were no more tears to cry.

  I’d never wanted to cry in front of my father, to allow him to make a mockery of my pain, so instead I’d pushed it away. Kept it hidden. And with his death, all that grief and misery had finally broken free, and the impact of Ty’s absence struck my heart with a crushing blow.

  He’d become a beacon of hope for me. A pill to keep me blissfully numb. Something to grasp in the darkness, and with him gone, I felt as if I was adrift in deep waters.

  Sure, I had Bea, but she didn’t have the power to consume me the way Ty had. To distract me from myself.

  Because one thing I’d learned in the last month, was how self-destructive the mind could be when the body craved something so intensely.

  Sitting in my car, I stared through windshield at his apartment building. His bike wasn’t out front. It hadn’t been for weeks. I’d even gone up and knocked on his door a couple of times, until it’d finally sank in that he’d left.

  He’d really left.

  The first couple of nights had been the hardest, the fleeting moments in which I’d actually fallen asleep—dreaming about him, his hands on my body, his breath on my skin, only to rouse to the cold and empty bedroom. The worst ones gave me nightmares, of him lying in a pool of blood somewhere, having killed himself, and I’d woken with a scream tearing up my throat and sweat soaking my T-shirt.

  Some nights, I’d wake to my father standing in the corner of my bedroom, blood still spilling from his bullet wound. “Look what you made me do! Look at all the blood on this carpet!” he’d scream, and I’d swear those nights were real. My whole body would seize and tremble until the ghostly figure faded with the first light of morning.

  But sometimes he wouldn’t disappear and I’d feel someone following me on campus, or catch a glimpse of him in the crowd. Those were the moments I felt most vulnerable. Most alone. Unbalanced.

  After a month, though, things had begun to settle. The investigations into my father’s suicide, along with my statements, had reopened not only Eli’s murder, but also Shawn’s suicide case, as well. I’d agreed to assist however necessary, to ensure the man who’d been wrongfully placed behind bars was eventually set free. Computers, files, documents, all of it had been seized by the FBI, and I managed to get by on the small amount of funds in my bank account, as well as the money Ty had left, until my father’s estate and trust, for which he’d oddly named me as a sole beneficiary, had been settled.

  The truth would finally be known.

  I exited the vehicle and ambled across the street, before climbing the narrow stairwell that led up to the roof of the apartment, where Ty had taken me weeks before.

  The city stretched on toward the horizon beneath where I cautiously mounted the ledge. Legs trembling, I hiked my foot over the edge, followed by the other, until they dangled above the street below me. Every muscle shook, urging me to safety. Instead, I closed my eyes.

  I’d come to understand Ty, how danger could so easily seduce someone like him, and why he’d dare to tread where most wouldn’t. There was something oddly cathartic about immersing oneself in fear, letting go of the thin and fragile line that held an illusion of safety. The thrill winding in my stomach, with my feet slung over the edge of the building, felt no different than the split seconds before climax.

  Fear was like sex.

  Terrifying at times, yet exquisitely addictive.

  The cool November air ruffled my hair, sending a numbing cold across my skin, and dark billowing clouds loomed overhead, promising the chilly nip of rain. I tried to imagine Ty’s eyes, so blue, like the clearest morning sky, and his eyebrows set to a brooding angle. His hollow cheeks and square jaw, those perfect lips designed for breathless kisses.

  Every feature perfectly etched in my memories.

  My heart was a canvas, an empty slate, upon which, he’d sketched his darkest desires. And no one would ever erase it, or draw over the parts he’d already claimed. He’d breathed life into me, while drowning me at the same time, filling my lungs as he’d pulled me under the surface. I was sinking without him, suffocating in my solitude.

  Some days I wondered if I’d dreamed him.

  I opened my eyes again, certain of it.

  In my palm sat two pills, like two tickets to a paradise where the gloom of overcast and the ache of loneliness couldn’t touch me.

  * * *

  You need anything, honey?” Bea’s quiet voice carried across the bedroom, where I lay on my side, staring out the window. Friday afternoon meant she’d be packing up to go to Simone’s for the weekend.

  “Bea? Does it ever go away? The pain?”

  “He was your first?” she asked.

  Perhaps she meant love. Or heartbreak. What I knew for certain was that Ty had been the first time I’d ever felt passion. True fire in my blood. The very thing my mother had always urged me to hang onto, no matter what.

  Lifting the heavy duvet to catch the tears in the corner of my eye, I nodded.

  “No. Never.” The doubtlessness in her voice hit my heart like a tack-hammer, adding another crack to the many I’d suffered over the weeks.

  I didn’t know how many blows the heart could withstand before it crumbled. How many wounds it would bear before it gave out. I didn’t even know how to describe my pain. Anger? Sadness? If what I felt was love, it was a strange duality. The only thing that could simultaneously save and hurt me at the same time.

  The bed dipped, but I didn’t bother to turn, knowing she’d sat down beside me, She rested her head on my folded legs. “But I promise you, it gets easier.” For the next ten, or so, minutes, she lay there beside me, neither of us saying a word, until she pushed up from the bed, kissed my cheek, and left.

  I shifted my gaze to the easel at the other end of my room, from where Ty’s eyes stared back at me in the sketch I’d drawn of him from my own memory.

  Only one thought had lingered inside my head for the last half hour.

  I didn’t want it to get easier.

  39

  Ty

  One month later …

  Back when I’d watched Pinocchio as a child, I remembered feeling a gut-wrenching sadness for the kids that were never saved from Pleasure Island in the end. Yeah, Pinocchio got out, went on to become a real boy, and all that shit, but the hundreds of other kids who were captured, beaten, and made slaves—what happened to them?

  Were they killed? Abused and let go?

  Did Pinocchio tell someone, who set them all free?

  I’d wanted to believe the latter, but I knew better. Some kids just didn’t make it out okay.

  Eli stared back from a chair, set across from where I sat sprawled on a cum-stained blanket of the Motel Six, in Nowheresville Indiana. My home for the last two months. I’d wasted the hours drinking too much liquor, watching too much porn, and had reached the destructive phase, in my efforts to get Sera out of my system. I’d have taken a fucking cocaine detox over the shit my body had gone through in her absence. The stabbing pain in my heart and stomach. The insomnia. The constant ache that never seemed to go away, no matter how much liquor I drank to numb it.

  I’d hit rock bottom, and with the murder investigations still going, I couldn’t afford to slip.

&nbs
p; The gun lay in my lap, cold steel that’d happily put an end to it all.

  I kicked back another swig of liquor, letting the burn and the buzz talk me into it. Scrolling through pictures of Sera only served to solidify my plans, as I let the pain move through me like a bitter poison threatening its equally bitter end. I tossed the phone aside and swapped it for the gun, tucking my head into my bent knees. My body shook with the fury that’d become a permanent layer beneath my skin. Sweat beaded across my flesh, and in a moment of courage, I tilted my head back, propped the gun beneath my chin.

  “This is how it ends for us,” I said to Eli, who continued to watch me in silence. “This is what happens to the ones who aren’t saved, right?”

  Breath held, I closed my eyes and released the safety.

  Something brushed across my skin, and pressure against my hand lowered the gun from my face. I opened my eyes to see Eli standing alongside the bed. Before I could make sense of anything, he wrapped his arms around me.

  For a moment, he wasn’t the ghost that haunted me, or the guilt that consumed me.

  He was just a kid. A kid who’d died too young at the hands of too much cruelty.

  I held onto him, burying my head in the crook of his cold neck. “I’m sorry, Eli. I’m sorry I left you. And that I kept silent for so long. You were just a kid.” In a drunken sob, I clutched him tighter, wishing more than anything that he’d say something back to me. “I’m sorry I tried to forget you.”

  We sat like that for a while, until I stopped crying, and the gun fell out of my grasp onto the bed.

  When I opened my eyes, I lifted my head from my knees, still hugging them. A chill still lingered in my bones, along with the faint scent of roses.

  But Eli was gone.

  * * *

  Night had a way of welcoming debauchery, like an old friend calling me out to play. Cloaked in obscurity, I watched the girl from the shadows, the way she danced alone, set off from the crowd, a young seal separated from its herd while the sharks circled, waiting. Her long blonde hair, curled at the ends and interrupted with blue streaks, whipped about her head in a tangled mess that made my palms itch.