“This way!” Sam yelled, pointing toward a darkened hallway that seemed to lead to more offices.
Dex nodded, taking a moment to shove several hysterical people toward the double-doors at the far end of the warehouse. “Move, people! Get out the same way you came in, for Christ’s sake!”
That seemed to be all the prodding they needed, because the crowd mobbed toward the exit like a flock of birds evading a predator. People fell over and around each other, shoving, kicking, biting, and generally making a mess of things as they tried to escape. Shaking his head, Dex took off after Sam. He couldn’t spare any time for these idiots, especially when he knew half of them were darklings.
Let the fuckers burn. They probably deserved it.
As he tore after Sam, Dex noticed a second hallway off to his left. “There are more rooms that way! We should split up and—”
Sam whirled around so fast Dex didn’t even have time to blink. He wrapped on hand around Dex’s throat, the other tangling in the ridiculous leather straps of Dex’s harness. Face inches away, he snarled, “We are not splitting up. I’m not losing you again, do you understand me?”
Dex nodded, unable to speak past the sudden lump in his throat. There was panic in Sam’s eyes, and his hands were trembling. Sam was a lot more freaked out by Sydney’s disappearance than he let on.
“Let’s move,” Dex whispered, voice catching. Sam stared at him for a long moment, almost as if to assure himself that Dex wouldn’t go traipsing off on his own. Then he gave a sharp not, shoved Dex back a pace, and charged off in the direction of the darkened hallway. Dex followed without a word.
Eight doors lined the walls. The two men methodically kicked them down, bursting into each room with weapons at the ready. Each empty room ratcheted Dex’s tension ever-higher, until he felt like he could be twanged like a guitar string. When they got to the final door, Sam gave him a nod and stood back. Dex counted to three, then smashed his heel against the flimsy doorknob. The door flew open—
And a Broken darkling charged out, snarling and slavering like an enraged beast. Sam shot it in the head, dropping it so fast its blood sprayed in an arc over the still-swinging door. Two more of the Broken tried to wedge themselves through the doorframe at the same time, making easy targets of themselves. Dex popped one while Sam took care of the other. The bodies formed a heap of stinking human debris across the threshold. Dex peered into the room, wary of a fourth attack, but it seemed to be empty.
He let out a frustrated growl. “Fuck! We need to go back to that other hallway.”
Sam nodded, and both men charged off—only to skitter to a halt as they came back into the main warehouse. Half the floor had collapsed, flames licking up the support columns as they danced toward the ceiling. The smoke was so thick and black, Dex couldn’t even see the far side of the room. He coughed, covering his nose and mouth with his elbow and wishing he still had his shirt. Sam snarled a string of expletives and dragged Dex toward the last hallway.
The smell of smoke still hung in the air, but at least the flames hadn’t reached this far yet. They split up, each taking one side of the hall this time. Just as Dex kicked in his second door, a deafening crash sounded from the warehouse behind them, followed by a whooshing roar. The smoke multiplied, and Dex glanced back with a look of horror to find a heavy support beam, thick with hungry red flames, blocking the exit to the hallway.
“Emergency exit!” Sam shouted, coughing and retching. He pointed to the glowing red sign at the far end of the hall. “We have to get out of here!”
“What about Syd?” Dex screamed. He charged toward the closest door, barreling through it before Sam could stop him, and let out a howl of frustration at finding it empty. Sam grabbed a fistful of Dex’s leather harness, dragging him backward like a parent hauling in a toddler, and tossed him bodily toward the end of the hall.
“We don’t have time! The roof is coming down!”
Dex screamed with animal fury, but he took off running, Sam hot on his heels. They slammed into the door’s crash bar, spilling out onto the sidewalk just as a thick wall of flames whooshed out after them. Coughing and wheezing, Sam and Dex helped each other get to their feet and scrambled away from the building.
Fifty feet away, Dex crashed to his knees, coughing so hard it felt like his lungs were trying to escape. Sam landed next to him, retching up black bile. Dex fought his own body, trying to get to his feet, but only managing to lurch sideways. A giant whoosh preceded a deafening crash of wood and metal somewhere behind them. Dex managed to flip himself around, sitting on his ass in the middle of the empty parking lot and stared at what he’d done with honest horror.
The two-story warehouse was nothing but a mass of angry, orange-red flames that lit up the night like a gateway straight from hell. Windows along the upper floor shattered as he watched, more flames shooting outward as if gleeful of the chance at freedom. A side wall collapsed in a shower of ash and shattered cinderblocks, adding a layer of airborne debris to the thick, black smoke. It looked like a freaking bomb went off.
Tires screeched somewhere off in the distance. Dex looked westward, where the party-goers had all parked their vehicles, and realized the lot was nearly empty. Only their Rav-4 remained, huddled like some terrified kid in the far corner of the parking lot.
“Syd might still be in there!” Dex gurgled, his voice wet and raspy from smoke and coughing. “We have to—”
“If she was in there, she’s dead,” Sam said quietly. His voice held no emotion whatsoever.
Dex whirled on his partner, ready to snarl a denial, but the words froze in his throat. Sam was covered from head to toe in a layer of thick black soot—except for a pair of shining, wet tear-tracks running down the middle of each cheek. His silver-gray eyes stood out in startling contrast, and they, too, were shining with wetness. He stared at the flaming warehouse, his shoulders sagging, arms hanging limp across his bent knees. He looked like a man who’d just been invited to his own funeral.
No. No, it couldn’t be. Syd couldn’t…
“Maybe she escaped,” Dex said hoarsely. “She’s got freaking magic, Sam. She can take care of herself. Hell, she’s fucking immortal!”
“Immortal, not invulnerable,” Sam replied in a dull, dead voice.
“Don’t say shit like that!”
Sam turned to face him—slowly, like a man moving through water. Unacknowledged tears spilled down his cheeks, cutting deep tracks through the soot. He said nothing, simply staring into Dex’s eyes.
Dex threw back his head—and screamed.
Chapter 24
Dex slammed through the motel door with so much force it ricocheted off the wall and tried to break his nose on the backswing. Grumbling, he held the door while Sam moved past him into the room, then slammed it shut. Then he punched it with so much fury his knuckles split on impact, leaving splatters of bright red blood in the fist-shaped dent he left behind.
Nursing his bloodied hand, Dex put his back to the door and let his head fall back with a solid thunk. He slid to the floor, wrists draping limply over his knees, and let the tears run.
Their night on the town had turned into a nightmare. They couldn’t afford to wait around for police and firetrucks to show up—too many questions they couldn’t answer—so they’d been forced to get out of there before the first emergency responders arrived. Sam drove, moving like an automaton that hadn’t been oiled in a long time; short, jerky movements followed by long periods of stillness.
He hadn’t said a word since they left the warehouse.
Now, Dex watched Sam as he slowly crossed the room, mincing his steps like an old man who was afraid one wrong move would shatter fragile bones. He sat on the edge of one of the beds, staring off into space with vacant, desolate eyes. Then he picked up the TV remote, swung his legs up onto the bed, settled back against the headboard, and finally crossed his ankles, all in slow-motion. He sat there for a long, long time, just…staring at nothing.
Then, he turn
ed on the TV.
“Welcome to MBOU Early Morning Newscast. Our top story today: gas explosion at a local warehouse destroys millions of dollars’ worth of—”
“Turn that shit off,” Dex growled. Sam ignored him.
“Authorities believe poor ventilation coupled with failure to follow modern building codes led to the—”
“I said turn that shit off.”
Sam clicked a button on the remote—and changed the channel.
“…petty vandalism has plagued the city of Boulder for the past—”
“Sam.”
Click.
“…leaving authorities stumped as to why criminals would break into a warehouse, steal nothing, and leave only piles of unbleached flour behind. The crooks shattered windows, shot holes through the walls, and—”
“Goddamn it, Sam! Turn that shit off!”
Click.
“This latest explosion is not believed to be linked to the electrical fire that burned down the roadhouse known as the Evil Eye Bar, located five miles down Highway—”
Dex shot to his feet, marched over to the TV—and smashed his fist through the screen. The zip-pop of electrical shorts crackled through the air, while bits of glass and plastic tinkled down onto the faux wood tabletop. Dex shook splinters from his bloody knuckles and pivoted to face Sam, expression livid.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, man?”
Sam lifted an eyebrow. “You’re the one who just killed a TV. Guess we’ll have to ask them to put in on our tab.”
“No, seriously, what the fuck? You haven’t said a word since we left the warehouse!”
The eyebrow lowered. Sam’s expression went blank. “What would you like me to say?”
Dex’s mouth popped open, eyes going wide with incredulity. “Are you fucking serious right now? Sydney is missing and you’re just—”
“What do you want me to say?” Sam barked, rage briefly flashing over his features. But then he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and sat back with his arms crossed over his chest. “She’s not missing, Dex. She’s dead. Nothing I say will bring her back.”
“Don’t fucking say that!” Dex swept his arm sideways, sending the shattered remnants of the TV crashing to the floor. “She could still be alive. She could have gotten away. She’s got… fuck, she’s got freaking phaser-blasters in her fingertips! No way anyone could have—”
“She’s dead, Dex.” He didn’t even bother opening his eyes.
“She’s strong. She could have gotten away. We don’t know that she was—”
“If she was in that warehouse when it burned down, she’s dead.” Sam’s voice held no inflection. A simple statement of fact.
“So, you’re saying it’s my fault?” Dex thrust his chin belligerently.
“Your fault?” Sam’s eyes popped open. “How the fuck is it your fault?”
“Because I’m the one who set the fucking building on fire!” Dex howled, pain and guilt making his voice rise an octave. He staggered sideways, catching himself against the TV stand and almost falling to his knees. “She could have been trapped in there, waiting for us to come rescue her, but she burned to death because I couldn’t keep hold of that fucking needle…”
Sam swung his legs over the side the bed, scowling. “Dex, that’s insane. It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.”
“It is my fault. I never should have gone back for her. I never should have talked her into letting us help. She asked us to leave and I—”
“I was part of that conversation. You weren’t the only one who—”
“—tried to be the hero, to swoop in and save the day. Fuck, I should have listened to her. I should have—”
“Dex, be realistic. She needed our help. She said so herself You didn’t—”
“—done what she asked me to do. All I had to do was walk away,” Dex cried, voice cracking on unshed tears. “All I had to do was give her space. Instead, I stuck my fat head in—”
“You didn’t—”
“—and got her killed.”
“For fuck’s sake, Dex—”
“She’s dead because of me!” Dex howled. “It’s my fault, all of it—”
“It’s my fault!” Sam roared, rocketing to his feet. His fists, his shoulders, his whole fucking body shook with the force of suppressed emotions. “I’m the one who was with her when they came for us. I’m the one who let her go to the bathroom alone. I’m the one who let her walk away. I’m the one who left her without protection.
“I’m the one who got her killed, Dex. She’s dead because of me! Happy now?”
Dex stared. “That’s crazy. You couldn’t have known. You couldn’t have—”
“She needed me by her side!” Sam roared, launching himself halfway across the room before wrapping both fists through the leather straps of Dex’s harness. He still hadn’t taken the damn thing off. “I could have stopped her from walking away. I could have been there to watch her back. I should have been there! I should have been there!”
Dex clamped both hands around Sam’s wrists. “For fuck’s sake, Sam. That isn’t what happened—”
Sam shoved him backward, pushing him off-balance. Dex staggered against the TV stand, his weight making it tip back and thunk against the wall. Cursing, he used his right forearm to chop down hard over the bend in Sam’s elbows, breaking his stiff-arm hold, and twisted his body sideways. Dex’s superior weight, combined with the lateral momentum, forced Sam to stagger and crash against the wall. Dex tried to twist out of Sam’s grip, but his heel caught on the broken plastic casing of the TV, making him lose his balance again. He over-corrected, barreling into Sam and sending both men crashing to the ground.
Dex landed on top and immediately tried to roll away. Sam came up swinging, his fist connecting with Dex’s right shoulder. Dex bellowed as a fiery blast of pain ripped through his bicep, frantically twisting onto his back so he could catch and block Sam’s next strike. Sam landed one good punch against Dex’s chest, just as Dex landed one on Sam’s side. Sam roared with fury, twisting himself around until he finally managed to pin Dex’s legs to the ground. Panting, eyes wild, he pinned Dex’s wrists to the floor on either side of his head and loomed over him like some sort of deranged beast.
That’s when water splattered on Dex’s nose.
No, not water.
A teardrop.
Sam wasn’t just heaving with anger—he was sobbing, shoulders hitching, throat working with soundless screams. Tears streamed down Sam’s cheeks, dripping onto Dex’s skin.
These weren’t the actions of an enraged man. Sam wasn’t even battling him. He was fighting his own grief.
Oh, God. Dex had been so lost in his grief, he hadn’t stopped to consider Sam’s. He was so used to the way Sam guarded his emotions, it hadn’t occurred to him that the other man could be holding back something this big. Sam didn’t even look human right now, his lips drawn back in a rictus snarl, veins standing out in his neck and arms. He looked like a man on the edge of collapse, like he might explode out of his skin at any moment.
And it broke Dex’s heart.
The moment he realized that, Dex quit fighting. He lay there, limp and docile, as Sam gasped for air and stared at him with unseeing eyes.
“Sam,” he whispered. “Sam. Let me up.”
Sam slammed Dex’s wrists hard against the floor, hunching his back and letting his head hang down, so his hair swung over his face. His shoulders heaved as another round of gut-wrenching, silent sobs ripped through his body.
“Sam. I’m here. Let me up.”
Sam let out a wholly inhuman, guttural roar of abject despair. He pushed himself off Dex and curled himself into a ball, arms wrapped around his knees, face buried in his elbows. He sat there, rocking back and forth while he hugged himself.
Dex scrambled to his knees and threw his arms around Sam’s body. Sam squirmed for a moment, trying to get away, but Dex held on with every bit of strength he possessed. Then Sam let out ano
ther of those soul-crushing cries and clutched Dex’s torso like a drowning man searching for dry land. Dex cradled him, pressing his chin down over the top of Sam’s head, and just rocked with him. They stayed like that, just holding each other.
It took him a while to realize he’d been crying, too.
Eventually, as all things must, the storm subsided. Sam shuddered, squeezing Dex so hard he felt his ribs creak, then sat back with a heavy sigh. He wiped both hands across his face, then pushed the tangled cloud of hair off his forehead. Elbows braced on knees, he spoke to the carpet between his feet.
“Did you tell her you loved her?” His voice was nothing but a ragged, breathless whisper.
Dex shifted his position so that his bent knee paralleled Sam’s thigh, then braced his other leg behind Sam’s back, forming a cage around his body. “Yeah, I told her.” He cupped the nape of Sam’s neck as he said it.
Sam nodded dully. “Did she say it back?”
Dex had to swallow several times to get the lump out of his throat. “Yeah,” he finally managed. “The first night.”
Another dull nod. “She told me she loved me tonight.”
Dex’s heart swelled. “Sam, that’s—”
“I didn’t say it back.”
Dex closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against Sam’s shoulder. “It’s okay. I’m sure she knew.”
“I couldn’t say it,” Sam whispered, as if he hadn’t heard Dex speak. “I just…couldn’t get the words out. I choked up. Couldn’t do anything but hang onto her.”
“Sam—”
“I didn’t t-tell her,” Sam said with a hitched intake of breath. “I was too…scared.”
“Come on, Sam—”
“I was such a fucking pussy,” Sam gurgled, tears thick in his voice. “Three little words and I c-couldn’t say them.”
“Hardest three words in the English language,” Dex murmured, squeezing Sam’s neck. “Trust me, man. I know.”
The Darkling Hunters_Fox Company Alpha Page 30