Dead Wrong

by H L Goodnight

  Dominick was stunned. Slowly a grin took over his normal grumpy features. A deep laugh came out. It rebounded off the walls filled with warmth. "Oh my." Tears formed in his eyes as he laughed. "That is the," he kept laughing.

  Taking the steak out of my mouth I growled, "Glad I could help you with your yearly laugh."

  I stood up, and my ankle gave out.

  Dominick caught me and tried to suppress his mirth. It only partially worked as he chuckled. He picked me up and carried me over to a chair by the kitchen table. He started up again, chuckling deeply.

  Rolling my eyes at him, I started eating.

  Dominick stopped chuckling to wince. "Seriously, if that isn't a crime, it should be. Let me make you one, okay?"

  I nodded and kept eating. Dominick got busy in the kitchen. He wore a hoodie and jeans.

  "Day off?"

  Dominick was putting seasoning on the steaks. "Depends if I get called in." He asked, "Meat helps you heal?”

  As he got out a grill that reminded me of a waffle iron, I said, "Steak or sashimi works best. Whatever those rolls were healed me faster than anything else so far."

  He said, "So fish is best."

  "Maybe. I never paid much attention to it. This is the most injured I've ever been, so it's never come up. Usually, I just need to heal cuts, bad bruises, or a sprain. Dislocated joints sometimes." Feeling sinew move your bones back in place wasn’t my favorite sensation.

  He made a noise. He said as he flipped the steaks, "Try and keep it that way."

  "So, how long did I sleep? And who removed the casts?"

  He whistled, "Well, you have been out for almost a full day. It is one o'clock in the afternoon. We got you here at about that time yesterday. Dr. Yamada came by to remove your casts." He put the steaks on the grill once it heated.

  Hmm, I needed to get a grill like that.

  “She said to call if you had questions." Dominick opened a bag of premade salad and dumped it in a big bowl. "She also said you should heal within a week if you didn't re-injure yourself."

  "Hmm." Two days lost. As I finished the microwaved steak and asked, "So, where’s Alec?"

  Dominick smiled, "At class. He will be home by five."

  "Did I thank you for getting my bag?"

  Dominick put the bowl down hard in front of me on the table. He tossed the fork next to the plate. He leaned over me, putting his arms on the chair. "Your bag with drugs? That bag?"

  The smell of sandalwood filled my senses. Dominick’s face was drawn in anger, but even so, he was still handsome. "Dianna, why did you keep that stuff?"

  "I didn't know it was drugs!"

  "You should use your head!" He stood up straight and crossed his arms.

  "Use my? Screw you!"

  "You said it was a member of a gang. Did you think he was carrying around arts and crafts for fuck's sake?"

  Dominick towered over me. The vein on his forehead throbbed. His teeth clenched.

  My pulse started to pound. I stood pushing the chair and Dominick away, "Back off." My voice was low, with a growl in it.

  "Dianna, your eyes."

  "I don't care if they are glowing." I was far shorter than him, so I had to crank my neck to look up at him, "Piss off!"

  Dominick closed his eyes. His jaw muscles twitched. He went back to the steaks and muttered in another language.

  My vision started to slip as I asked, "What?" My body shook. I limped over to Dominick and put my hand on his arm. "At least face me.”

  Dominick said quietly, "No. Stop trying to pick a fight."

  "Fuck you!"

  He turned towards me and grabbed my good arm. He pulled me towards him and crushed his lips to mine. His lips were firm and coaxed mine open as he held my weight. He cupped my butt with one arm and held my arm in the other.

  My mouth opened in surprise.

  His tongue entered my mouth. It was hot and searching.

  Pressing into him, I returned his kiss, my tongue desperately searching out his. If Kian's kisses were like being devoured by flames, Dominick's were like jumping off a cliff. Both were dangerous for me in different ways.

  Dominick kissed me more deeply. My breasts smashed against the firm sinew of his chest. Even though I was battered, I wasn't dead. His kisses sent desire reverberating throughout me.

  "Dominick," I moaned out as he moved his head.

  Dominick moved, pulling me up. My legs wrapped around him, and his kisses became deeper.

  He pulled up and put me back on the floor. He didn't let me leave the circle of his arms. He rested his chin on my head.

  My breath came out fast as I tried to gain balance.

  "What attacked you," he asked. His breathing was ragged. I could feel his heart beating frantically against me.

  My good arm was squished between us. Not sure how to respond, I closed my eyes. "Dominick," I started. What should I tell him? That once the Shadowed Man appeared, I thought my life was at an end? That the monster from my nightmares could have killed me? It could have.

  I frowned. "Why didn't it kill me?"

  Dominick seemed to stop breathing. "What?"

  Pushing away, I said, "The Shadowed Man. It was suddenly in the middle of the road." I put my hand to my head, "It had me. The wounds were serious from the crash and not healing. I was crawling on my arms when it grabbed me. Drew me towards its mouth."

  I knelt down in a fob squat. My ankle throbbed. A fine sheen of sweat coated my body; it felt too hot. I wanted to vomit.

  "It said that I had to choose a side."

  Screams of dead friends rioted in my ears again. Why didn't you save us?!

  Dominick knelt beside me. He put an arm around me. After a time, he helped me stand. I got back to the chair at the kitchen table. He brought over the steaks. "Medium rare I'm afraid."

  "Now that is a crime."

  We ate steaks and salad in silence. He avoided looking at me during the meal. As we were cleaning up, and he was putting dishes in the dishwasher, he asked, "So did you need the stuff in your bag?"

  Nodding, "Something is nagging me. It is like a puzzle I can't see the original picture too, you know?"

  Dominick looked at me with his typical expression, "Hmm. Sounds like you are missing something."

  I shut the dishwasher's door and didn't have to limp as I moved away. Steaks make everything better. "Where is my stuff?"

  Dominick was wiping off the sink not looking at me, "It is in the guest room where you woke up. Inside the armoire."

  What was with not looking at me? Did he regret kissing me?

  It took me no time to get to the guest room. My bag was not there, but there was a black garbage bag full of the banged-up items. A knock sounded at the door.

  "Dianna." Dominick's voice was soft.

  Sighing while opening it, I asked sharply, "What?"

  Dominick's gaze was firmly on mine. He put one fist on the door frame. "I'm trying to restrain myself."

  His cheeks were flushed, and his voice was somehow warmer than normal. His face didn't look like it was frowning more than normal but was still intense. He walked forwards.

  I looked up to maintain eye contact. No way would I back up. "What are you saying?"

  He bent over so that our eyes were level. He met my gaze and asked, "Are you fully healed?"

  "I think everything except my arm." I moved my arm a bit and winced.

  He moved and picked me up so that he was carrying me like a small child. His eyes were slightly dilated, "So, you should be okay."

  His lips came down on mine.

  I pressed against them, eager to erase the encounter with Kian.

  He carried me to the bed and sat down while keeping me on his lap. Instead of kissing me, he asked, "You want this too?"

  My cheeks started to burn. I wanted to be with Dominick; to let go of past and present wounds. But also, to just be with him. "I do."

  He put his hands under the sweater and cupped my breasts in his large hands. "I never thou
ght I'd find Alec's clothes sexy." He rubbed his face on my neck above the turtleneck close to my jawline. His stubble left a burn. "But I just keep thinking about doing this."

  My hands held onto his shirt.

  His fingers were gentle on my breasts as he lightly held them. Moaning, he kissed me. Then he lifted the sweater off.

  It felt cold without the turtleneck.

  Bending down to my neck again, he stopped. "What is this?" He stopped moving. He put me off his lap and stood up.

  I frowned, confused. I remembered the marks left by Kian. Well, this was awkward. "Well-" I started.

  Dominick asked, "Did that creature do this?"

  That creature? Kian? "What?"

  Dominick rubbed his face. He was trying his best not to freak out. "God, Dianna."

  Thing? Oh no. Images of the Shadowed Man kissing my neck was not something I needed. "No!" I stood up. I put a hand over the hickey. "No. This was something else.”

  Dominick looked up at me. His face shut down, back to resting dick face. "I see. Perhaps I misunderstood." He started to leave the room.

  "It isn't what you think," I said. "I had this dream of a man, and then we met –"

  Dominick's interrupted, "You met the man of your dreams. You shouldn't ruin that." His words were clipped and venomous. His expression back to its usually grumpy, stubborn self.

  I yelled at him. "Right! That's right! Kian is gorgeous! I should never have kissed you back."

  Dominick said nothing and slammed the door as he left.

  I put a pillow over my face and screamed into it.

  Chapter Twenty

  Grabbing the garbage bag, I dumped the contents on the blue floral quilted comforter. The music box made a noise, and I knew it had shattered. Crap! I’d go through this crap and get my car to leave. “Oh. Right.”

  My car was destroyed.

  Sitting down, I focused on things I could do, rather than things I couldn't change. I couldn't change Dominick being an ass. However, I could get a car through a car service, and I could look through these items. My phone was in the bag as well.

  It was dead. The screen was cracked a bit, but there was a charging station on the bedside table. Plugging in my phone, I returned to the pile of junk.

  The music box was in pieces. The ballerina had shattered into three pieces. The bit of

  A copper disc about the circumference of my palm lied in the scattered pieces. The disc's edges were filled with holes, and the rest of it had openings and bangs in it like someone had bashed holes in it with a hammer and nail. But on closer inspection, the marks looked intentional and mechanical with a visible repeat making a precise pattern.

  I flipped the small disc over. It had some writing etched into it, φοῖνιξ. What language was that?

  I put the disc on the table and cleaned up the rest of the things. The black powder was still in a baggie. Bright flecks inside of it glittered and twinkled in the sunlight. The newest drug, labyrinth.

  No rest for the wicked. It was time to get working. Picking up the rest as garbage, I shoved it back in the bag and used the strings on it to tie it up. My arm still hurt, and the stitches had popped off my torso. Moving the bag to the floor, I felt my torso. It hurt.

  The stitches were stuck to the tank top. What remained was a large fresh scar. I wondered if it took longer to heal wounds from the Shadowed Man. Or if the damage he did was something even I couldn’t fully recover from. If so, it would be my first scar since that night. The other injuries had healed.

  Shrugging it off to avoid borrowing even more trouble, I decided the first step was to call my insurance company and deal with the police and hospital stuff.

  However, it turned out Dominick, and Dr. Yamada had already taken care of everything. All the right forms and signatures were in place.

  My insurance company said it would take two weeks to process, at which time a check would be issued. Since I was incapacitated and on bedrest, at home, no loaner or rental would be issued or covered. So that left me with the issue of how to get home.

  My phone showed it had charged halfway. It worked. I had two missed calls from Roth on my phone and one voicemail.

  Roth's voice sounded strained, "Call me.”

  Uncertain what I'd even say to Roth, I used my phone and got a local car company to come pick me up. They would take me home, and then the car would be mine for two weeks at a somewhat inflated rate since I was paying cash with no insurance helping to pay for it. It would hurt my budget, but that is what my rainy day fund was for.

  I should change the title to worst week ever fund.

  I sent a text to Alec. I appreciated everything he had done and wanted to see him again. Would he welcome a plant for a housewarming gift? Most people liked to put plants in a pretty container and then forget about them except once every week or so to water them. Bamboo could be a good choice.

  My crossover handbag was at home, so I shoved the peculiar disc and money in a front pocket in the sweater. With no shoes, my feet felt like they would freeze, even in the thick socks. I grabbed a coat out of Alec's closet and went outside and started walking down the drive.

  It had snowed while I’d rested. Not the amounts feared but it looked more like two and a half inches of fresh snow. I heard the front door open.

  "Dammit, Dianna!" Dominick yelled. He caught up with me, as I waited for my ride.

  I said nothing.

  Dominick leaned in, so our eyes were level. "What are you doing? You don't have your license? Where do you think you are going?"

  "I am going home!"

  Dominick's brows drew together, "Dianna. You were in a wreck. We are trying to hide the fact that you can walk, let alone live independently."

  My temper flared, "I doubt the guy coming to pick me up will care!"

  "He may not, but all it takes is one. One person, to say, hey she was the lady in the wreck? How is she walking around?” He made a sweeping gesture with his hand, “Then who do you think will come for you? Monsters? Our government?”

  I bit my lip.

  Dominick sighed and moved away, "If you do this, you risk exposing yourself. I've hidden you from the Order so far, but-"

  "What? I thought you said I was a descendant of this order. Like a misplaced relative type thing." My throat tightened, making my voice sound strained.

  Dominick turned around and shrugged, "I hope so. But if I can't prove it fast enough?” He sighed deeply, “The Order might classify you as other."

  "What happens then?" My stomach tightened.

  "Nothing good." Dominick put out his left hand, palm up, and said, "Come inside."

  Looking at Dominick, I wondered if he would still hold out his hand if the precious Order labeled me other?

  Or would he be the executioner?

  "And if I stay, and your order labels me other? What then?"

  He looked into my eyes, "Then we stand our ground. You are no evil being, Dianna. You are filled with a holy purpose. The same as us."

  I bit my lip and rocked on my heels to keep warm. Okay, so Dominick was willing to take on his club for me. "If you are still holding out your hand after all this, I will."

  A small foreign hatchback came into view down the road. My ride. “Dominick,” I didn’t know what more to say.

  "The door is open." He walked back to the house without saying anything else.

  As the car pulled up and I got inside, I hoped it would be.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Back in my apartment, I changed out of Alec's clothes. Folding his clothes onto hangers, my fingers crushed the wool sweater again. I wonder if I could find one like it. In black instead of the gray color, but the shade was nice too. The wool wasn't rough; it was so soft and warm. Sighing, I put the clothes on hangers in a garment bag hanging in my closet. Next time I went over, I'd return them.

  While jumping from the shadows in my apartment, I changed into my nighttime work clothes. Jeans, shirt, hoodie, leather jacket, and a small crossover ha
ndbag. And my winter boots. Time to track down monsters.

  Were Dem and his boys behind the Music Man killings? Unfortunately, the news reported that the home invasions had not stopped. Police were stumped.

  The new victims had been a female couple with two older children they'd adopted through foster care. A memorial page was up, with pictures of all the victims so far. The media had an official report from the feds and a warning: check on your neighbors, regardless if you lived in a house or apartment. The fear was that over time victims not yet known of would be found.

  The count was now at sixteen homes, and twenty-eight murders. The Music Man, or men, had no specific victim type. Old, young, man, woman, multiple people, a person alone, all had their homes broken into while the person or people had been home. All had been mutilated, some raped, but all ultimately killed. The sites ranged from run-down homes to a grand mansion behind a gated community with privately run security, the where didn't matter. No one was safe.

  This new message was going to send a lot of people packing to leave town for the holiday.

  But a larger question loomed. How did the culprits keep the victim, or victims, quiet?

  As for the homes, some were in the fancier suburbs where homes were practically on top of their neighbors. So, odds were that by now, someone had heard or seen something. Even the homes inside the poverty zones, someone should have seen a vehicle or a person out of place.

  It was beyond peculiar. The thought I’d pushed down surfaced; people wouldn't notice shadows.

  I hoped I was wrong.

  If it was the Shadowed Man, I wasn't sure what to do.

  I logged into my work email to make sure it was up to date. An official notice said I had one unpaid week off. I clicked through the site to apply vacation days to the time off and made an official request for it to Roth as my phone rang.

  I picked up the call. "Hello, sir."

  "Don't give me that shite." He was drunk, his words slurred and accent so thick I could barely understand what he started to say. It sounded lyrical but unintelligible.

  "Roth?"

  "I said to call me. Break my heart and then my balls," again Roth lost me as he started rambling rapidly.