Around me a light begins to glow.
“What is that?” Lyla asks.
Gage sounds stunned and thrilled when he says, “You can see it?”
I begin to fill in, to take shape, but I’m still not whole. It’s more like an image of me. Looking my hands over, mesmerized by what’s happening, I almost forget that they’re in the room with me.
Then Gage says, “Mercy, I can see you.”
Nodding, smiling, I let out a laugh mixed with surprise. It’s overwhelming to no longer be alone. Gage reaches out a hand to me and I reciprocate. Unlike before, when I couldn’t feel anything, I tingle when Gage touches me. It isn’t much, but at least it’s something.
His eyes well with tears and so do mine. Knowing he can feel me means everything. It fills me up completely, even if I am, physically, only an image of myself.
“Can you hear me?” I ask.
“Yes, but just barely.”
“Gage, am I dead?” More tears as he tries to squeeze my hand and it slides through me instead of connecting with me.
He looks pained, which makes me want to touch him even more.
“I’ll fix this,” he swears to me. “I promise.”
I attempt a grin, but my lips falter and quiver. Looking over at Lyla and Jay, at their sweet faces, which are also wet with tears, I know I have to keep it together, for them. Being in this whole mess is my fault. I’ve done this to them. Maybe it’s better if I’m dead.
“Mercy! What’s happening?” Gage lunges toward me as I flicker in and out.
Losing my grip, my image falters and I feel myself slipping away. Despite my efforts to hang on, I can’t fight it. It’s too much for me.
“Do something!” Lyla yells at Gage.
But what can he do?
A force grips me and spins me and the last thing I hear is Gage shouting my name.
Chapter Thirty-One
I land hard. The wind knocks out of me. I suck in air, but I can’t breathe. I feel the weight of someone on top of me, smothering me. My lungs struggle, finding no relief. I hear a gurgling sound, like bubbling water. I realize quickly the awful noise is actually coming from me. I’m in someone’s body. Shit!
I realize I can’t breathe. Something is covering my face. A pillow. I try to suck in air, but I only get a mouthful of fabric. Panic swells within me. The sound of my throbbing heart, pumping furiously, drums wildly in my ears.
I squirm. I writhe. I buck like a bronco forcing the weight off of me. A man grunts, and mashes the pillow deeper into my face. I feel my nose crack and my eyes bulge. Time is running out. With all my strength I shove him off. He jumps back off the bed, startled by my sudden burst. He scrambles against the wall, stumbling as he goes. He stares at me, his mouth agape with horror. His eyes are wide, truly terrified. Of me.
He runs faster than anyone I have ever seen.
When I feel calm, I look at the room around me. The walls are painted slate blue. Pictures of beach scenes hang in white frames. There’s a vase of daisies on the dresser. The sheets on the bed are mussed. The room feels disturbed. Remnants of the intruder hang heavy in the air; the smell of his sweat is musky and lingering.
I exit the bedroom and walk down a short hall. These walls are covered in pictures as well. But instead of beach scenes there are smiling faces. College parties, groups of girls with their arms around each other raising their beers in toast. Children at the zoo, poking their heads through cutouts of Gorillas. An old fashioned photo of a couple getting married. The faces are pleasant and somehow welcoming, yet entirely foreign to me.
The hall spills out into a cozy family room with worn couches. An aged wooden table is centered on a blue and cream rug. Atop the table lies People magazine, US Weekly, and yesterday’s paper. I try not to stare too hard at the date. It’s inconceivable to me that a few days ago I was an average girl. It’s difficult to believe what I’ve become in such a short time.
I continue through the living room and end up in the kitchen. The cupboards are antique white. A wall clock in the shape of a rooster lets me know it’s ten fifteen PM.
I have the urge to splash some water on my face. I set off in search of the powder room, which I find at the end of the hall. Flipping on the light, I see that everything is pink, like a gumball exploded. Looking up in the mirror, I suck in a breath when I see my reflection.
The hair is short, pixie cut, and black as night. The eyes are almond shaped and the irises are dark and murky. The skin is pale, almost translucent, like non-fat milk. She’s shorter than me. I touch her face. Her skin is cold, well below room temperature.
Not only am I in another body, I’m in someone else’s dead body. I can see it in the broken blood vessels around the eyeballs, the chalky blue of the lips.
It makes sense now, my attacker’s reaction. He thought she came back from the dead. She did—in a way.
This is bad. This is very, very bad.
“You’re prettier than she is,” Nathaniel says from behind me.
My eyes catch his reflection in the mirror. I flinch and spin around to face him.
I scream at him. “I’m in a dead body!”
“And whose fault is that?” He gives me a stern look.
Like a child, I stomp my foot, her foot. “Help me!”
He sighs. “Follow me.” Nathaniel spins on his heels and walks, noiselessly, down the hall.
At the door to the bedroom, he pauses and then turns abruptly. I stop just before slamming into him. His expression is piercing, as if he’s looking through her, trying to find me inside. I look away, unable to hold his gaze, feeling a mixture of shame and guilt.
“Lie down on the bed,” he instructs.
Obeying, I adjust myself into the position I found the body in. When I quit fidgeting, he replaces the pillow on my face.
“Mercy, I need you to take my hand.”
The body reaches forward and touches his hand.
“No, Mercy. I need you to leave the body on the bed and take my hand. Concentrate.” His voice is firm.
This time the other arm of the body reaches forward. I shove the pillow off of her face and sit up, frustrated. “This isn’t working.”
I start to think of being stuck this way—in some dead body. Forever. I have to get out.
He sits on the bed next to me.“Mercy, take my hand.”
Forcing myself to concentrate, I search for his hand and when I find it, I no longer feel cold. Instead, I feel warm, like someone has plugged me back in. The pieces of me are no longer scattered and searching. I feel, for the first time, the separation between the body and myself.
He rearranges the pillow over my face and I sit up. Not the body—me.
As I glance behind me I can see, oddly, that I’m sitting in her. My torso above her, my legs still beneath so I feel for my legs, willing them to slide out. Eventually, they follow and I’m able to rise from the bed.
Expecting the same result as before, I wait for Nathaniel’s lack of reaction to my presence in the room, but he stares right at me and says, “That’s better.”
“You can see me?”
“Yes.”
“And hear me?”
That is a stupid question. Obviously, he can hear me because he answered my first question, but still, how is that possible? Why can he see me when Gage can’t?
When Nathaniel speaks again it’s with such intensity that it takes my breath away. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he says me.
“I’m glad you found me.” It’s the truth and so I say it. I’m elated that Nathaniel can see me, that around him I feel whole and that when he touches me, I can feel him, really feel him.
He slides his fingers through mine and for a moment we’re facing each other.
Nathaniel Black isn’t who Gage thinks he is. True, I don’t know of all his crimes and I don’t want to because it might alter the perception I have of him. Nathaniel’s exterior is hard and unyie
lding. He’ll do what he has to do in order to survive and until now I was sure he always put himself first. But he has a way of looking at me, like he’ll jump in front of a speeding train to save me.
It’s because of that look, the one he’s giving me now that tells me that Nathaniel’s soul is much deeper than he cares to let on. He is all the things Gage told me about Breachers; he’s driven by his desires. But is that really all that bad? Doesn’t it also mean that he loves more, cares more?
“Take a walk with me,” he says. He takes my hand, leading me out of the house and through the streets to a small park nearby.
He never lets go of my hand and I don’t want him to. Feeling connected is exactly what I need. Part of the reason I’m holding onto him is because I fear that if I let go, I’ll jump and land in another body. But the other part likes the way my hand fits into his. And I like the way that Nathaniel watches out for me. If I ask him why he’s always saving me, I know he’ll give me some smartass answer. He isn’t going to tell me the truth, and that’s okay because I’m not ready to hear it. So I let him hold my hand because, for now, it’s what we both need and what we both want.
We pause for a second and I can feel his eagerness to ask me about it, so I tell him. “I didn’t kill Lyla.”
Nathaniel seems surprised by my answer, but at the same time he acts like he already knew.
“When I left her body I didn’t go anywhere at first. I was in the room with her and then with her and Jay and they couldn’t hear me or see me. I thought maybe I was dead.” A hiccup catches in my throat as I remember. Nathaniel squeezes my hand.
It gives me the strength to continue. “And then Gage was there and he couldn’t hear me or see me at first. But then, I don’t know, I wanted him to see me and I made it happen. Only he still couldn’t hear me very well. To be on the outside, looking in like that … ” I hesitate. “It was awful.”
Nathaniel nods as though he understands.
“And then I was gone and it was the strangest sensation. You know how that feels?”
He whispers, “No.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not like you, Mercy. I’m not attached to this world because I’m not human. And when I Breach, it’s because I need a place to go because I can’t survive here without a body. But you, you’re different.”
“Great.” I let go of his hand. “I’m a freak among freaks.”
Nathaniel places his hands on my shoulders and says, “That’s not what I meant.” His hands slide down my arms until they find my hands and once again we’re linked. “Because you’re human, because you have a body all your own, you have roots and your soul is searching for them.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I don’t belong here and I have to fight to be here. That’s why I Breach. But you belong here. And that’s why you can’t control the Breaching. You’re trying to find your way back.”
When he says it like that, it doesn’t sound so bad.
“Nathaniel, can I ask you a question?”
“You just did.” He laughs. “Ask me anything.”
“Why? I mean, I saw the video of you and that nurse … ” I can’t finish.
For the first time since I’ve known him, a look of shame alters his facial expression. His eyes narrow and his brow furrows. “Because I didn’t want to die. It really is that simple.”
“I have to ask you something else.”
“I know you do.”
“What did you do? You were a prisoner and you must’ve done something, right? I mean they wouldn’t punish you like that for nothing. So, what was it? What did you do?”
He lets go and looks away. “I fell in love.”
That is not the answer I expected.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Gage
“Mercy! Mercy!” I yell and yell, but she’s gone.
Lyla is crying loudly and the sound makes the guilt I already feel double in size. Everywhere I go I bring failure and it’s crushing me.
“She’s dead.” Lyla sobs into Jay’s shoulder.
“Is that true?” Jay asks me. “Is Mercy really … ?”
“I’m not sure,” I answer honestly.
By all accounts Mercy should be dead. That’s what supposed to happen when a soul leaves a body. The soul crosses over to the other side. It’s the order of things; the way it’s designed. But Breachers break all those laws.
Mercy is different and yet, when her soul lingered, I knew the truth, that she’ll never change, that she can’t change. But it isn’t her fault; it’s her nature. It’s who she was born to be.
The problem with it all is that I, too, am who I was born to be. I am a Hunter. But the longer I stay among them, the longer I expose myself to humans and to Breachers, the blurrier the lines get. How can I destroy Mercy? How can I look into her face, her beautiful face, and end her life?
“Gage, what do we do now?” Jay asks, interrupting my thoughts.
Snapping back into solider mode, I make quick decisions. “Go to the hospital and check on your mother. I’ll try to find Kate.”
“Then I’m coming with you,” Lyla says. “I have to find my sister.”
“No,” Jay and I speak simultaneously.
“I can’t protect you and look for your sister at the same time. It’s too dangerous,” I tell her. “Go to the hospital and wait for me. I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
There is no more arguing. I escort Lyla and Jay out of the building. When I know they’re safe I begin my journey back to the hotel.
A block away from my destination, three black town cars pull up alongside me. The back window of the middle car rolls down. “Get in.”
I have no choice but to obey.
The Assembled aren’t known to travel outside their realm. They don’t enjoy the human world, though they do revel in their power over it. They are the ones who make the rules, who guard the path between life and death. I, as their employee of sorts, have to answer to them.
“Gage,” Lucas Church, the eldest of The Assembled, addresses me. “What is the status of your case against Nathaniel Black?”
“Complicated.”
The two who sit on either side of Lucas shift in their seats.
On his right is Isadora White and to his left, Donovan Edwards. They frown in disapproval of me.
Isadora leans over and whispers in Lucas’s ear. He nods and then addresses me again by saying, “You’re dismissed from this case. It has been decided.”
“You can’t do that!” My reaction is completely out of line and unbecoming of a Hunter.
“We feel as though you can no longer handle this on your own,” he continues. “You allowed your team to be killed and your feelings for this Mercy are grounds for penalty.”
Isadora fixes her gaze on me. “And my sister? What have you learned of her?”
My hands clench and unclench into fists. “She’s alive,” I say through gritted teeth.
Isadora, with long legs and dark brown hair that even an industrial strength fan couldn’t muss, glares at me with her fierce green eyes. She despises me, that much I can tell. What I don’t know is why.
“I need more time,” I plead with them.
Isadora gazes out the car window as if she’s bored by our conversation. She doesn’t even bother to look at me when she says, “You’re finished, Gage. Hence forth you are stripped of your Hunter duties. You will serve your sentence out here, among them.” Her nose turns up when she says the word them as if humans are disgusting creatures.
“You have no authority!”
Her head snaps around and she snarls at me when she says, “I have all the authority. That you’ve forgotten only proves my point. You are worthless to us. You sympathize with them. You love one of them. So now, you will be one of them.”
The third Assembled, the quiet one, clenches my wrist. Twice my size, with muscles that his black suit barely contains, he squ
eezes and I buckle, crying out in pain. Pulling back my shirtsleeve, he exposes my mark, my Hunter’s mark. It’s a tattoo of sorts, but more of a brand. From his pocket he removes a gold knife and with ease, like I am nothing more than a loaf of bread, he slices the brand off of my arm.
When they’re finished, I am thrown from the car and forced to watch them drive off. Blood drips from my forearm to the concrete. Before I bleed out, I take off my shirt and wind it around my wrist.
The pain and blood are only minor distractions that last momentarily. It isn’t long before I’m once again dealing with the real issues. I am no longer a Hunter.
I have no purpose, no direction, no focus, and no plan. Is this what it’s like to be cast out? Being that I always believed Nathaniel was in the wrong, I never thought of the consequences he suffered.
Come to think of it, I never even questioned the severity of his crimes. It wasn’t my place to question The Assembled. But now, now all I can do was question everything because I have nothing.
My decision-making skills are completely out of whack, so I can’t say that I was thinking clearly when I decided that charging into the hotel was going to be my next move.
* * *
A few people in the lobby gawk at my bloody arm and one even offers to help, but I brush him off and beeline to the elevators.
I have no idea what Ariana’s reaction will be. There’s a good chance she’ll kill me on sight. Part of me wishes she will.
With my good arm, I bang on the door. “Ariana!” The door next to hers opens and a silver-haired man pokes his head into the hall.
“Get back inside.” He quickly responds to my request.
“Ariana!” I yell again. “Let me in!”
The lock clicks and the door opens just a crack. “What’s your purpose here?” one of her lackeys asks me.
Kicking the door with all of my strength, it flies open and knocks the unsuspecting man backward into the room. He springs to his feet, but not before I draw my weapon. He continues to back away slowly.
Into the Dark Page 14