Kissed by the Dark: Ollie Wit Book 3

by Donna Augustine

  “Okay,” I said, the way someone who wasn’t quite sure it was okay would. But it did feel a lot better than having to pretend.

  “We’re friends.” Her arm tightened around mine.

  “Um…” Should I keep telling her it was okay, or did I say I needed some time? That might be awkward.

  “We’re friends, and you’re going to have to deal with it because…” Her voice cracked as she kept walking forward, tugging me along. “You just have to, because not that many people like me.” She pushed through the last words with a niggling wobble in her voice.

  “Butch and Leon seem like they’re your friends.” I so wasn’t up to propping someone else up today, while I was mentally hobbling along on crutches.

  “They like each other better. Everyone likes everyone better than me.”

  The wobble was about to register on the Richter scale.

  “Okay. We’re friends. I might not remember you, but I’m getting good feelings. I must’ve liked you a whole lot.” I was definitely overselling it.

  “Good.” She smiled at me, and I could feel the tension in the arm looped around mine ease. And there might’ve been a suspicious sniffle or two.

  I pulled her arm closer, finding that not all of what I’d said was a lie.

  “Now that we’ve established that, we need to fix the rest of the mess your memory is making,” she said, tugging me toward the bar that lined one side of the Underground.

  “That sounds like a really great plan, but I’ve got to go speak to Kane right now.” I tugged her back in the opposite direction, toward the stairs that led to Kane’s office.

  She patted my hand, nodding and walking with me. “Good idea. You need to fix this. He’s very upset.”

  “He is?” I’d gotten a couple of weird looks, but very?

  “Yes. Very.” Her voice dropped a few octaves on the “very.”

  I smiled.

  She cringed. “You’re a really bad faker.”

  “Thanks.” I stopped faking.

  I marched my way up the stairs toward Kane’s office. This at least I remembered. I saw that Butch and Leon had settled into their booth downstairs and were watching as I knocked on the office door.

  “Come in,” Kane called from within.

  There was a little shake in my hand as I reached for the knob, but I shook it out. What the hell was wrong with me?

  He was seated behind his desk when I entered, calm and collected.

  The office looked a little different than it had last—whenever it had been. There were still piles of paperwork everywhere, but the windows that overlooked the main floor seemed a bit shinier than I remembered. The wood framing had a fresh coat of paint, and it had a general remodeled feel, except nothing was really different.

  I turned my attention to him. “Do you have a minute?”

  He glanced over at the couch before pointing at the chair in front of his desk. “Have a seat.”

  I walked toward the chair but hesitated for a moment, glancing over at the couch, too. Why did I have this urge to go nap there? Did I used to do that? Was that why he’d looked at it?

  I shut down that train of thought quickly, not knowing where it might drop me off. Just because I might’ve done something in the past didn’t mean it had been a good idea. What if we’d had sex on the couch and that’s why he was looking at it? I’d made a lot of bad choices in my life, and I didn’t know if he’d been one of them yet.

  I took the chair in front of his desk, and then shifted it so the couch was at my back, completely out of sight. I had more important things to worry about, one of them plaguing me since last night.

  I sat stiff in the chair, afraid of getting too comfortable. “Do you have any idea why the monsters—crawlers—don’t come close to me anymore?”

  Kane kicked his feet up on the desk and relaxed back, one elbow resting on the arm of the chair, his shoulders looking too broad for my comfort. Why were the evil bastards always so good looking?

  “Do you remember me telling you about Asher?”

  How could I not? Of all the details he’d given me, that had been the worst. I was a murderer.

  “That was the crawler who looked human that I killed.” I kept my aversion to the deed private. Might be better off to let Kane think I’d kill again—with ease.

  “He did something to keep them at bay, but I don’t know what.” He stood, appearing as if he were going to come around the desk, but he didn’t. He turned toward the window at the last moment and rested a shoulder on the wall beside it, leaving a large buffer between us. “How are you feeling?”

  Do you remember anything? That was what he really wanted to ask.

  No. I still don’t remember you. I don’t remember any of these people or this place. I wouldn’t have even come here if I’d had somewhere else to go with my questions. I choked all of that down. “I’m good, thanks.”

  He looked out the window. Instead of seeing mourning, I thought I caught a glimpse of regret, like he was watching the sun set on a day he wished he could get back.

  I heard a buzzing and saw his phone lying on the desk, facedown. He pushed off the wall and grabbed his phone but didn’t answer it.

  “I’ll be back in a minute,” he said, pocketing it.

  “Sure.” I pointed to his computer as he walked across the room. “Could I use your computer for a moment? I wanted to check some of my accounts.”

  “Go ahead,” he said, like someone with nothing to hide.

  He closed the door to his office on his way out, and I didn’t waste a second sitting down in his abandoned chair. I kept an ear out for approaching footsteps but didn’t hear any. Was he really going to leave me alone in his office?

  I clicked on his shrunken windows, of which he had many. Real estate. And more real estate. Was it code for something else? I scanned the first few screens. If it was, it might be the most boring code ever. There were depreciation schedules and repair bills. Closing papers and title searches. If it was a code for something else, I’d never crack it. I’d fall asleep first.

  I clicked into his file directory. He sorted them by date, and I scanned quickly to find, yes, more real estate. By the time the door swung open five minutes later, I hadn’t had a chance to check my bank account, not that it mattered. I was fairly certain I was as poor as I had been back in January. I clicked shut every open file before he was two steps into the office.

  “Done. Thanks.”

  “Did you get what you needed?” He took the chair in front of the desk that I’d vacated, leaned back, and kicked his heels up onto the surface. It was strange how I was the one sitting behind the desk but his spot had become the power seat.

  “No. I forgot my password.” Maybe it was the posture? I leaned back, like he was. The effect certainly wasn’t immediate.

  No. Not working. He was still hogging up all the energy in the room. I took the next step and kicked my feet up on his desk. It looked like it had been dropped out of a truck and rolled down a hill a few times, so I didn’t think he’d particularly care about another set of soles on it.

  Still wasn’t working. Why was that? Was it me? If someone else walked in here, maybe I would seem to hold all the power.

  Who the fuck was I kidding? No, I wouldn’t.

  He leaned his head back, watching me as he did. “Are you comfortable?”

  “Eh.” I shrugged. Your position isn’t so hot.

  “I’m glad you came in. We have some more matters to discuss.”

  Why had I come here? Did I really have to get the answer to why the crawlers were giving me space? I couldn’t have left it alone and just been happy?

  “You’re not going to tell me I killed more people, are you?” Shit. I was supposed to pretend I didn’t mind killing.

  He paused for a second, and my heart began hammering at my chest like it wanted to build an addition. Please, please tell me I didn’t kill anyone else.

  He shook his head. “No, that wasn’t it at all.”
/>   Weird way to phrase it, but I let it go. It was enough.

  “I explained about being shadow kissed the night before. Have you thought about that at all?”

  All night long. Somebody tells you a creature dumped a bucket load of spells in your head, how do you think of anything else? Well, that and being a murderer. “A little.”

  “You need to see what you can retrieve.”

  Not happening. The monsters were at bay. I had some peace from them for the first time in my life. “What if it shakes something loose and undoes whatever Asher did with the crawlers? All of that is linked somehow, right?” Before he could answer, I was already shaking my head. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

  He nodded slowly, as if taking in my words and really digesting them. “I see your point with that—”

  “Thank you,” I said, cutting him off before the notorious “but” reared its head.

  “What are you planning on doing about the magical outbursts?”

  Both eyebrows shot up? “Outbursts?”

  “Yes. Outbursts.”

  “It was one broken couch.”

  He tilted his head forward and stared.

  Figured Butch had told him about a little spilt coffee and some egg crumbs. “That might not have been me.”

  His eyebrows rose as he continued to stare.

  “You can stare at me all day long. I’m not retrieving anything. It’s dangerous.” I already had enough problems. Whatever was sleeping in my head could siesta until the day I died. I wasn’t looking for trouble. I was running away from it.

  “That’s dangerous?”

  “Yes.” I stood, having no desire to have the upper hand in the room anymore. I wanted nothing to do with this room or this place. I knew I should’ve steered clear of him. What had I been thinking?

  “Ignoring magic that might burst out of you every time you get emotional isn’t?” He didn’t rise, but his gaze followed me as I made my way around the desk, going the long way to avoid getting too close.

  “I’ve got things to do. I can’t discuss this right now.”

  “Yes, I can imagine your schedule is packed.”

  There he was, the man I’d met that first night, back again in roaring fashion. I didn’t bother responding as I walked out of the office.

  Chapter Seven

  I heard the noise at the foot of my bed and two things hit me instantly. How was I in my bed when the last thing I remembered was walking down the street? And it was definitely my bed, or borrowed bed. I could smell the sachet of lavender I’d put under the pillow to help me sleep. But I hadn’t gone to bed last night. I’d left the Underground on foot and couldn’t remember a thing after that.

  Second, someone was standing at the foot of my bed. Were they supposed to be here? Maybe I’d invited them back with me? I didn’t know because I couldn’t remember anything past walking down the street.

  So now what? Did I feign sleep or fight?

  I’d stashed a knife under my pillow, one I’d taken out of the utensil drawer and placed beside the lavender. It had looked like fairly good quality. It would probably butterfly a piece of chicken with ease, but I wasn’t sure if it was up to carving a person, or vampire, or whatever else had come for me.

  I jerked up in bed, fumbling for the knife. I spun around, about to dole out death, to find Kane standing in my room, not even alarmed enough to uncross his arms.

  I dropped the arm holding the knife. “What are you doing here? Don’t you know how to knock?”

  “Where were you earlier tonight?” There was a razor-sharp edge to his voice and a hard look about his eyes.

  I didn’t think I was a killer, but I recognized it in him. He was what I was terrified of becoming.

  I welled up all my panic and directed it into righteous indignation. I got to my feet, ready to go nose to nose with him, although failing by quite a few inches. Didn’t let that stop me, though. “Seriously? You’re going to barge in here while I’m sleeping and have the nerve to ask where I’ve been?”

  He looked down his nose at me. “Yes.”

  Shit. I should’ve known that wouldn’t work on him, even with the little I remembered. I took a step back, as if I were annoyed with him and not from my own nerves that were bubbling up.

  “No answer? Let me guess, amnesia again?” Kane asked, as an even worse version of the man I’d first met reared his head.

  Well, that pretty much ruled out telling him the truth, unless I wanted to risk finding out what kind of killer he was. Would he kill me quickly or drag it out? Yeah, no thanks.

  “I was here.” I forced my breathing to slow down, knowing he was watching every little move. I waited for him to call me a liar. Because I was. I didn’t know where I’d been most of the night, but I didn’t think it was here. I turned to the dresser and grabbed a pair of sweatpants I had in the drawers. Running down the street screaming might be more awkward in only a long t-shirt.

  When I turned back, he quickly raised his gaze from my shirt.

  I glanced down at myself. My nipples seemed to think there was a chill in the warm room. I crossed my arms over my chest.

  He rested a shoulder against the wall, staring me down. “I thought you said last night that you didn’t want to shake anything loose in your head by trying to use spells?”

  What the hell had I done last night? “I don’t.”

  “But you did a spell to evade Butch and Leon?”

  “No, I didn’t.” That at least came out with conviction, or sounded like it.

  “And yet you did.” His eyes narrowed, calling me every bit the liar I feared he would. “Get your shit together. You’re coming back with me.”

  His tone didn’t sound like he was open to argument, and the set of his mouth compounded my assumption.

  “Why?” I asked, arguing while I shoved the hair from my face, my eyes still struggling to focus in the dim moonlight. I couldn’t go back there, especially not now. I didn’t even know who I was anymore. “You said I could stay here until I got my head together.”

  Kane turned his head in the direction of the open bedroom door. “Butch?”

  Was everyone here?

  “Yeah?” Butch called back.

  “Turn the TV on in there and put on a news channel.” He took a couple of steps away from the door and then waved a hand toward it.

  I didn’t argue this time. He didn’t tell Butch to turn on a certain news channel, but any one of them. Which meant whatever happened, they were all covering it. That meant whatever had happened was really bad.

  I glanced at the bedside table, where I would’ve put my phone when I went to sleep, but it wasn’t there. Kane walked up behind me, and I moved to the living room without it.

  Butch’s massive head and shoulders were blocking the TV, but he stepped to the side as we came in. The terrified face of a reporter filled the screen. The mid-thirties blonde, with perfectly layered hair and flawless skin, looked about to crumble. Her lips trembled, and this did not look like it was going to be a pretty type of cry. I’d clung to the edge enough to know the look. This chick was about to crack.

  A building on fire lit the backdrop. This wasn’t a normal fire, either. I recognized it. I’d dug up the newsreel from the explosion that had killed my family and watched it at least fifty times since. It had never seemed quite real, and now I knew why. It was a fire started by a crawler. Once you really saw one, you couldn’t miss the intensity that went with it, one that could only be created by a million gallons of jet fuel or a monster not of this world. It was a small apartment building in an area of town too far away from the airport for this to be jet fuel. That left only a crawler.

  So, while I was having another memory gap, there’d been an explosion. That didn’t necessarily mean I had anything to do with it.

  But why did the reporter look like she was on the verge of hysteria? She wouldn’t know it was a monster that caused the flames behind her.

  “Carole Anne, when you got on sce
ne, what was it that you saw?”

  “Uh,” Carole said, nearly dropping her mic.

  That was it. That was all she said. Most people could force out a single syllable steady enough, no matter how bad they were doing. The fact that I could hear the shaking in her “Uh,” as bad as a four-year-old on their first two-wheeler, told me much more than I wanted to know. She’d seen it. She’d seen one of them, but I couldn’t imagine how.

  No one could see a crawler but Shadow Walkers, or that was what I’d been told. Shadow Walkers always had black hair and grey eyes, as if their DNA were somehow linked to that dark and shadowy world. That was what Kane had said that first night. This chick wasn’t a bleached blonde. She was the real thing, with dark brown eyes, nowhere near a shade of grey.

  But here she was, her spray tan not hiding the lack of blood flow to her face as she looked about to topple over.

  After nothing came forth other than her initial “Uh,” the anchor said, “Let’s replay the video for our viewers who are just joining us.”

  The screen switched to an earlier scene.

  Kane was standing by the bedroom door, Butch was by the windows, and I was standing dead center, none of us saying anything as we all watched.

  The small building was in flames, bystanders watching as the prewar building lost its glory to a raging fire. A scream burst out of the crowd, different than the earlier ones. It wasn’t someone in anguish, watching their life’s belongings disappear. This was someone afraid they were about to lose their actual life. This was the visceral sound of terror.

  Other screams quickly joined in, but you couldn’t tell where they were coming from, as an already chaotic moment turned somehow worse. The camera that had been focused on the building swiftly shifted toward the crowds who were running away from where they’d been watching. They stampeded as if their lives depended on how quickly their feet moved. If what I thought was about to happen did, then their lives did depend on it.

  “What is that?” a much calmer Carole asked, sounding like she was speaking to the cameraman.

  “I don’t know,” he replied. The camera panned in the direction of a shadowy figure, backlit by the fire.