A Perfect Darkness

by Jaime Rush

  “What happened?” the man asked. He opened a cabinet, but Petra couldn’t see what he was doing.

  The woman hissed in pain but stilled it with a deep breath. “I ran outside when Hanson told me about the fire. I was going to pull the prisoner outside, if necessary. Someone was standing right there, and he hit me with something. Son of a bitch.”

  Eric. Despite the circumstances, Petra smiled. This woman was the enemy. She couldn’t be bothered to feel bad for her.

  “Did you see him?”

  “Just a blur. Big guy. It was dark.”

  “Here, press this on the wound. You’re going to have a real goose egg. Any dizziness?”

  “A bit. I’m fine, though.”

  “Too bad Peterson left. He’d know what to do. Maybe you should go to the hospital.”

  She said, “I can’t do that. Too many questions.”

  “Good point.”

  Petra let out shallow breaths, praying that she didn’t sneeze. Good job, introduce that thought in your head. Dust bunnies had made whole colonies under there.

  Another man ran in, breathless. “They’re gone. Carl’s trying to track them down, but they had a head start.”

  They were gone. She felt both relief and bereft. Well, that was the plan. If one got caught, the others had to scram. No point in all of them getting caught. Her phone. She could call them. Please, don’t let them call me. Even though the phone was on vibrate mode, she couldn’t take a chance on them hearing something.

  “The prisoner is gone,” the woman said, fear in her voice. “I’m never going to hear the end of this. It was my idea to cool him down by putting him in the tub.”

  “Did he have anything to do with this? Was he faking it?”

  “No. He couldn’t fake a fever like that. The man is nearly dead.”

  Petra winced at that. But Lucas was free.

  “Does Darkwell know?” the woman asked.

  “We called him as soon as the fire was under control. He doesn’t know Vanderwyck’s gone. I sure as hell don’t want to be the one to tell him.”

  “He still has the other one. I hope he’ll be satisfied with that.” The tone in her voice was doubtful.

  The other one. Her? No, they didn’t know she was there. Petra shivered. What did that mean?

  The woman stood. “I’d better clean up before he gets here, face the music without mud on my face.”

  “The other two Offspring have been called to come back, too. Their little date just got messed up.”

  The woman remained after the man left. She pressed the pads on her cell phone. “Harry, it’s Olivia. You’d better get back here. The Rogues broke in and took Lucas.”

  “Oh, hell,” the man on the other end said. “Tell Darkwell I gave Vanderwyck the shot, okay?”

  “Why is that important now?”

  “Trust me, it is. Get that plunger and shoot the contents down the sink.”

  After a pause she said, “All right.” She hung up and walked out. In the second that the door was open Petra saw the pin in the hallway that she’d been trying to use to jig the lock. Her heart dropped right down to her toes. If they saw it, they’d suspect someone had made it this far, and possibly hadn’t made it back out.

  The room went dark and the door closed. She crept out and, in the dim light from beneath the door, tried to get her bearings. She needed a better hiding place before the man that woman was afraid of showed up. Because whoever this Darkwell was, he was going to be pissed.

  Lucas was there. Amy could touch him. See him. He was lying on the bed, naked but for a sheet corner that covered his private area. Though they had only briefly met, she knew every contour of his body, knew the feel of the stubble on his chin and the sparse hairs on his chest. He was as gorgeous in person as in her dreams. His olive skin looked sunburned and was covered in a sheen of sweat. The waves of his hair were damp at his neck.

  The tub wasn’t big enough to comfortably accommodate his body, so she exchanged damp washcloths in the refrigerator and rubbed them over his skin as he lay in the bed. She paused at the red scar on the right side of his abdomen: from when he’d saved her from the attack. And she hadn’t even sustained a bruise during his rescue. It didn’t seem fair somehow.

  His glow was so faint she could barely see it. That scared her more than anything else. His body was fighting whatever they’d put into him. He had murmured a couple of times since they returned to the shelter but nothing intelligible.

  Her heart was a lump as she ran the cloth over his chest in slow sweeping motions. She followed it with her fingers, trailing over his breastbone and the ridges of his stomach and down to the pale area above his pubic bone.

  An indefinable feeling made her turn toward the door. Eric was standing there watching her. He was statuesque again, staring at Lucas or perhaps her hand on him. She saw something in his eyes that looked like a curious longing.

  “He’s the same,” she said, uncomfortable with his scrutiny.

  He walked closer, handing her a fresh cold cloth. “He’s not trembling as much.”

  They’d turned off the heat, and the temperature hovered at sixty. “His pulse is stronger, too.” She didn’t know much about how fast it should be, but it seemed frighteningly faint when they’d gotten him here three hours ago.

  “Do you need a break? I can sit with him for a while.”

  “No,” she said too quickly. “I’m fine. Thanks.” She didn’t want to leave him. She ran the back of her fingers against his cheek. “Lucas. Can you hear me?”

  Nothing. She turned to Eric. He wore such an odd expression, she asked, “Are you all right?”

  He nodded, turning away. “I guess you’ve got everything under control. He’s in good hands.” He glanced back at her. “Call if you need me. I’m going to crash for a while.” He closed the door behind him.

  She nodded but was already focused on Lucas. She leaned close to his face, touching her mouth to his so softly she barely felt it. “Lucas,” she whispered. “Come back to me.”

  He shifted. Response! She was afraid to hope and yet couldn’t allow herself to consider the alternative. She stretched out beside him, tucking her face into the crook of his neck and placing her arm over his stomach. It grew so hot, though, that she had to pull it off. “Lucas,” she whispered. “It’s Amy. I’m here. No more dreams, sweetheart. I’m here.”

  She drifted off and dreamed. She was on a train, feeling the tremble of the tracks vibrate through her. She reached to the door of her compartment; it was wet. She held out her palm, seeing a sheen on her skin.

  She opened her eyes, thrust out of the dream by a realization: her hand really was wet. She was trembling. No, not her. She pushed herself up. Lucas. His body was covered in sweat. His fever had broken! He was still either asleep or unconscious. She ran to the hallway to tell Eric. He was asleep on the couch, the cell phone in his hand in case Petra called. She quietly got dry towels from the bathroom and returned to her room.

  Lucas had pulled into a fetal position, shivering from cold. She turned on the heater and then wiped his body down. “Lucas. Can you hear me?”

  This time he did murmur, and she thought he’d said her name. It made her heart jump. She pulled the blanket over him and tucked it over his shoulders. She glanced down at the sweatsuit she was wearing. Without a second thought she stripped out of it, climbed into bed, and wrapped her body around his. She willed her body heat into him as she held on tight. He felt so good against her. Alive. His heartbeat thumped beneath her ear. She closed her eyes and savored the sound and feel of him. If they could get through the night, he’d be all right. That’s all she hoped for at the moment.

  She drifted into sleep again until she heard a distant phone ringing. Not her ring. Her eyes popped open. Someone was calling Eric’s phone. She hated the lack of windows in this place. Perpetual night. The clock read 3:32. Lucas was breathing softly, nice and even. She slipped out of bed, threw on her sweats, and walked out to the living room.
r />   “Where are you?” Eric said into the phone, then looked at Amy as she sat next to him and said to her, “Petra.”

  Amy craned to hear the other end of the conversation. Petra’s voice was barely audible. “I’m still in the asylum. I’m in some kind of medical supply room. They don’t know I’m here. The man who’s probably in charge of the program came in and he was over-the-top pissed about us getting Lucas out. I…I heard him say that as long as he got the last shot, he wouldn’t be a problem. But he didn’t get that shot so he should be okay. He’s okay, isn’t he?”

  “His fever just broke,” Amy said. “Now we need to get you out of there.”

  Eric said to his sister, “For God’s sake, don’t wig out.”

  “I’m…I’m doing all right. Everything has settled down a bit. I had to wait until it was quiet before I took the chance of calling. I’m going to try to get into the locked office. I dropped the lock pick in the hallway, though. I’ve got to get that before they see it.”

  “Shit,” Eric muttered.

  “I’m getting a sense of the guards’ routine. I think I can manage it before daylight. Then I’ll get out of here. I’ll call and you can pick me up.”

  “I want you to call me every hour,” he said.

  “I don’t want to use up the battery.”

  “All right. If you don’t get out by tomorrow night, we’re coming in.”

  “I’ll get out. I have to go. It’s time for the guard to come by. I’ll talk to you soon.” She disconnected.

  Amy moved away from Eric. “Thank God they haven’t found her.”

  “It may be a good thing, her being in there. She can pick up information. As long as she doesn’t get caught.” He pressed the phone against his mouth in thought. “You said Lucas’s fever broke?”

  “Yes. I’d better get back to him. I’m keeping him warm.”

  “I bet,” he said under his breath. “At least I can get some real sleep. Petra’s okay. Lucas is getting better.” His relief was audible. When she stood, his gaze swept over her in the too-big sweats. “Keep me updated.”

  “I will.”

  She returned to Lucas and checked him in the dim light. He wasn’t sweating or trembling anymore. She stripped again and climbed into bed with him. He was on his back now, his hand on his stomach. She snuggled against him and laid her hand over his. She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder, breathing in the faint scent of him. That was the one thing she’d never experienced in her dreams—his scent. She synchronized her breathing with his even breaths, not as shallow as when they’d brought him here. She had monitored his breathing by counting between his inhalations.

  As she drifted back to sleep, his hand moved against hers. She opened her eyes. “Lucas?”

  His face was still slack. An involuntary movement, probably, but movement nonetheless. She sighed, leaning her face against his shoulder again. She closed her fingers over his, twining them together. Sleep eluded her now. She wondered who the woman was who’d been with Lucas. An odd jealousy filled her; that woman had been with him while she hadn’t. The woman had cared for him when she couldn’t.

  “Amy…”

  She lifted her head again. He was struggling to open his eyes. She got up and sat beside him so he could see her. His mouth moved but no sound emerged.

  “I’m here, baby.” She traced her fingers over the curves of his face. “I’m here.”

  He opened his eyes. Beautiful blue-gray eyes, sleepy, slightly unfocused. Looking at her. Her joy transcended her smile, coming out as a laugh.

  His voice was so soft she could barely hear it. “Am I dreaming?”

  She shook her head and took his hand in hers, kissing it. “You’re in the tomb. You’re safe.”

  “You’re safe,” he said, a smile slowly forming. He touched her face as though he still couldn’t believe she was real. He trailed his fingers down her neck, down between her bare breasts. She’d forgotten that she was naked. His hand rested on her stomach, warming her skin. No trembling. His smile widened.

  She knew the relief that he felt. It burst in her heart. “Here, drink.” She helped him sit up and then grabbed the bottle of water on the nightstand. He drank small sips until he’d finished the bottle. “I’ll get you more.”

  “Did you put me in the tub?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowed. “Everything seems hazy.”

  “No, that was a woman at the hospital. You had a raging fever. We think she was trying to cool you down.”

  “How did I get here?”

  Amy smiled in pride. “We busted in and rescued you.”

  “You shouldn’t—”

  She pressed a finger to his mouth. “Save your strength. I’ll get you some more water.”

  She pulled on the sweats again and paused at the door, drinking him in just as he had drunk the water. Seeing him awake and lucid was like someone who was dying of thirst drinking water. He wasn’t going to die, like he’d drawn. She closed her eyes and savored the relief in that. “Be right back.”

  Eric was sitting on the couch with his back to her. As she rounded the corner, it took a second for her to realize what he was doing. The steady movement of his hand, the flash of his naked leg—she caught her breath in embarrassment, which made him swivel around. He muttered an expletive as he pulled the blanket over him.

  She grimaced, pressing the palm of her hand against her forehead. What would Miss Manners say? “Sorry,” she murmured, keeping her gaze averted as she headed to the kitchen.

  She heard him pulling on his pants behind her. “Lucas is awake,” she went on, trying not to listen.

  Eric walked into the kitchen as she took out two bottles of water and turned to find him too close. He didn’t look exactly embarrassed, but possibly a bit chagrined. “How is he?”

  “I think he’s going to be all right. Come see.”

  He was asleep again, his head cocked to an angle on the pillow Amy had set behind him. “Lucas,” she whispered.

  He didn’t answer. She could see a difference in his expression now; he wasn’t out, just asleep. He looked content. Secure. She set the bottles on the nightstand and forced herself to turn to Eric. “I’ll see you in the morning. Maybe he’ll really be up then.”

  “Look—”

  “Don’t.” She shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. Good night.”

  He left, closing the door behind him. Amy pressed her fingers against her eyelids. Oversexed Offspring males. She took in Lucas. It sounded like he was ramped up sexually, too. Her mouth quirked. She hoped so.

  After stripping bare, she lay against him. He rolled to his side and pulled her close, as naturally as though they’d been sharing a bed for years. Something swirled inside her, curling like smoke through her veins. How long had it been since she’d been held? Physically held? Long, long years filled with lonely months and weeks and days and hours of a yearning she’d buried deep inside her.

  No more.

  She pressed her cheek against his arm and, with a smile, drifted off to sleep.

  Petra waited for the guard to walk past the room and turn the corner. She counted to three and opened the door. She was most exposed here, not knowing if anyone was within sight or whether someone would come from either end of the hall. The fluorescent lights washed everything in a harsh glare.

  She saw no one. Except for distant footsteps, she heard no one. She crept out and reached for the pin, then ran toward the last office and tried the lock again. She heard someone breathing in the next hallway. Footsteps growing farther away, but another set coming closer. She jammed the pin into the lock as Eric had shown her. This was no flimsy lock. The man had something to hide. She looked through the open blinds in the window. File cabinets. They probably contained information about them. About her mom. About what they’d injected into Lucas.

  Footsteps came closer. She spun around and ran back to the room. As she reached the door, a shadow fell at the end of the hall. She flung herself into the room and closed the door. At least sh
e had the pin, this time tucked in her back pocket. She had to figure out how to get out of this place. She walked to the cabinet of medicines, wondering if there were any knockout drugs she could slip into their coffee machine. Except the cabinet was locked.

  She heard voices: two men. She guessed there were rooms on the other side of the wall, in the hallway where Eric had set the fire.

  “Are you telling me that that son of a bitch can start fires psychically?” It sounded like the man who’d walked out with the woman earlier.

  An older man said, “You may be capable of the same thing.” Darkwell, the man everyone was intimidated by. She’d heard his thunderous voice demanding answers earlier. “What you can do now is just the tip of the iceberg.”

  “No, shit…ah, sir. When can I learn that kind of thing?”

  Darkwell chuckled. “I like your enthusiasm. As soon as we find the Rogues, you can practice on them.”

  Petra shivered.

  Their voices got fainter. She heard a door close and strained to hear them again.

  Darkwell said, “I’m going to try something that was effective for the prisoner: sensory deprivation. Depriving your senses actually sharpens them, heightening your ability to both locate and remote view.”

  “I’m ready. I want to take these guys down.”

  Darkwell said, “You can still only see Petra, right?”

  “Yes, sir. For some reason she’s easy to pull in.”

  “That’s a start. Let’s work on that now.”

  He could only see her? Why? Then it hit her: he was going to see her! He’d see the room and figure out where she was. She had to get out of there.

  CHAPTER 23

  Amy heard a soft tapping noise at the door and lifted her head. She’d been half awake for hours now, keeping her senses tuned to Lucas. She pulled the blanket over her shoulders as the door opened.

  Eric peered in. “I’m going to drive out to the asylum so I can stay close in case Petra calls,” he said. He nodded toward Lucas. “How is he?”