Whisper in the Dark

by Charlene Perry

  The heavy weight of fear presses down on my lungs, and my nerves are blazing.

  I bite my lip to keep from grinning.

  Let them do their worst. Give me the excuse to show them who I really am.

  I keep my gaze down, my posture slack. I won’t break character until I’ve got no other choice. There’s still a chance I can get to-

  “Elite Whisper.” Paul’s feminine voice has a self-satisfied ring to it as he joins us at the table, sitting his flat ass down across from me, at Zephyr’s left. “I had an interesting conversation with my co-worker today. Do you know what we talked about?”

  I look up at him, and Zephyr’s hand shoots out to slap the back of my head. “Answer.”

  I lower my eyes back down, my hands curling into fists on my lap. “You talked about me. About who I am. Who I was.”

  “Seems you were a bit of a celebrity, before you died.”

  My eyes flick to his of their own accord, and this time it’s Chris’s meaty hand that cuffs me. Deep breaths.

  “Did you honestly think we wouldn’t find out?” Chris asks, the hand that slapped me now resting on my shoulder. He pushes my hair aside, his fingers tracing along the skin of my neck where my tattoos used to be.

  I fight the urge to swat him away. They know who I am, so what’s the point of keeping up this charade? They want to provoke me. Why not give them what they’re looking for and show them who their dealing with?

  But I don’t. I keep my head down, because it’s not over yet. I don’t move a muscle as Chris’s hand drifts from my neck, down my arm until it rests on my thigh. The seconds crawl by as I wait for their next move. But they’re watching me, waiting for me to answer.

  “I didn’t-” My words are cut off when Zephyr’s foot kicks the chair out from under me. Searing pain vibrates through my skull as it connects with the tile floor, and I’m scrambling to roll out of their reach and gain my footing. A boot connects with my ribs, and I can’t stop the cry of pain that escapes me.

  Fuck, I miss my Medic right about now. The pain in my head and ribs is intense, and I fight the urge to panic at the knowledge that it’s not going to get any better without the synthetic aid. I finally get my feet under me, and I lunge at the nearest body. I grab Chris’s shirt, and land a punch to his cheek that makes him shout in surprise.

  His response is a slap across my face that sends me sprawling into the wall. A dusty frame dislodges from its anchor to join me in a heap on the floor. I stay where I’ve landed, tucking my feet under me and pulling at the hem of my dress to cover as much of my legs as I can.

  I keep my eyes shut, waiting for another blow, but it doesn’t come. Moments pass, and I hazard a glance, peeking up through my lashes to see Chris standing between me and the table. Zephyr and Paul are on their feet, having stood from their chairs but not moved after that. Paul’s face is twisted in a grimace. He’s not enjoying seeing me treated this way. Zephyr face is just the opposite, his eyes wild and his chest rising and falling with quick breaths. He’s hoping I’ll keep fighting back.

  The expression on Chris’ face is harder to read. His forehead is creased and his jaw set tight... confusion, resolve.

  “She hits like a girl,” he comments, breaking the silence that’s making my ears ring.

  “It’s true, then.” Paul lets out a long breath, the tension visibly melting from his posture.

  “Did they tell you what she did to get them removed?” Chris asks, his expression softening slightly.

  “Apparently she tried to off her employer. Fucked it up and got her Shifter killed in the process.” Paul sums up the worst moments of my life as if he’s reciting the plot from a movie. “They took her implants as punishment and left her fair game for everyone else she’s crossed. One of them decided to take his revenge by turning her in to us, and now she’s missing and presumed dead.”

  Presumed dead. Didn’t take them long to write me off. I shouldn’t be surprised they didn’t send out a search party. There’s plenty of people out there that would have been happy if I disappeared long ago. Kelsey’s face flashes behind my eyes. I should have asked Gideon to let her know I was okay, but I suppose it’s best if she thinks I’m dead, too.

  Hell, it’ll probably be true once I’m done here, anyway.

  “So, what do we do with her?” Zephyr asks, rubbing his palms together as if he has plenty of ideas about what they could do.

  “Exactly what they told us to do with her. Nothing more, nothing less.” Paul sits back down at his chair, palms spread out on the table as he seems to think for a moment. “Put her in the closet until they get here, so she doesn’t do anything stupid.”

  “Time to go.” Chris’s voice cuts into the silence along with the piercing hall light.

  It’s only been a few hours, maybe six, but each stay in that fucking closet gets more distorted than the last. He helps me to my feet, my legs weak and shaking from being unable to stand up in the four-foot-high space. I expect him to shove me along, but his arm snakes around my waist as he pulls me to lean against him. I stiffen, expecting this to lead to something much less pleasant.

  “For what it’s worth,” he speaks in a hushed, almost comforting tone, “I’m sorry it’s come to this. I didn’t recognize you, but I know who you are. Who you were. You were a fucking badass, and you deserve a hell of a lot better than this shit.”

  I look up at him, expecting to see a smirk on his face. His expression is dead serious. I start to pull out of his grip, and to my surprise he lets me go. We stand there for a moment, just staring at each other. It’s weird. I’d rather him slap me upside the head then leave me questioning my sanity like this.

  “What’s going to happen now?” I venture to ask, hoping this little interlude will earn me a straight answer.

  He lets out a stunted laugh, shaking his head. “Nothing you or I can do anything about.”

  With that, the moment’s over and he’s pushing me down the hall. I don’t bother resisting, because as unhelpful as his answer was, it’s very true. All I can do now is go along for the ride.

  The narrow hallway empties into the sitting room, where two soldier-types are waiting. Tall, muscular builds, close-cropped hair, identical at-ease postures, and matching don’t-fuck-with-us expressions on their ugly faces. If I had any plans to escape in transit, I’d be thinking twice right about now. The other two keepers are here as well; Zephyr looking bored and Paul looking worried. All eyes turn to me, and I lower mine obediently.

  I don’t resist as Chris ties my hands behind my back. One of the new guys walks across the room, fitting a cloth bag over my head and tightening it firmly around my neck. Without any words, I’m pushed forward.

  Big, bruising hands grip my arm as I stumble down concrete stairs in my bare feet. The outside air on my exposed arms and legs feels amazing, and I wish I could breathe it in. I feel grass under my feet, and a ridiculously giddy sensation sweeps over me. I must be delirious. When’s the last time I had food or water?

  Whisper

  The familiar voice in my head stops me in my tracks. I trip over my own feet as the mountain of a man guiding me keeps us moving forward, pulling me along with little effort.

  Damon? I send out the thought, but it’s the same empty feeling as always. There’s no way I heard him. I don’t even have my Link anymore. I start to struggle against the hands that hold me, suddenly desperate to return to the house. I need to get to the bathroom, to the mirror.

  He’ll be there waiting for me. He’s always there.

  A heavy hand on my head shoves me into what must be the trunk of a vehicle. They can’t take me away. Not now. I need to see him.

  I kick out, panic flooding my veins as I feel more out of control than I ever have. Voices shouting, more hands, then a searing pain in my arm followed by a wave of heat that sweeps away all the fear and pain until there is nothing but blackness.

  Commander

  My talons grip the familiar railing, high above the metal city. I
cling tightly, my body swaying as I fight against the sheer exhaustion from the effort of the flight. My Medic has clearly been pushed to its limit. My body needs more rest than I’m willing to give it.

  The glow of the city at night filters through the swaying curtains, casting shadows around the room that Whisper and I called home for a little while. It’s empty now, the bed neatly made. I inhale deeply, but no trace of her scent comes through the open doors.

  The shift to my panther is brutal as my body stretches and molds to my will with a slow, agonizing burn. I push past it, needing my feline sense of smell. There’s still no sign of Whisper, or anyone, as I move silently around the room. Even the bed holds no lingering memories of her presence.

  Fear rises in my chest, as I’m forced to accept that I don’t know where my mate is. I don’t even know if she’s alive.

  No. That isn’t an option. I would feel it if she were gone. I would die along with her, even if I am free of our artificial bond. I simply cannot exist in a world without my Whisper.

  Exhaustion grips my body and my mind. I need to find her. I need to find my mate. I drop to my belly on the floor of the dark, unfamiliar room.

  There is no home without Whisper.

  My relief at being out of the stinking trunk is short-lived. My legs are crampy, and my head buzzes like a swarm of bees have taken up residence. I get a quick flash of black sky before they put the cloth bag back over my head.

  I’m pushed around by one of the meatheads, through doors and winding hallways. When we stop, heavy hands on my shoulders shove me to my knees.

  “What are you doing here?” A new voice speaks with authority and a hint of something familiar, though it’s muffled by the heavy cloth over my head. “You know it’s too late to add any more to this shipment.”

  “Yes, Sir, we know. But this one’s special order.”

  “Of course it is.” That voice again.

  The cloth bag is pulled off my head, and I know what I’m going to see even before my eyes have adjusted to the sudden light.

  Charles. I bite my tongue. How the fuck did he get involved in all of this?

  We’re in a room about twenty feet square. A metal table and four plastic chairs are pushed into one corner, but other than that it’s empty. Mold creeps along the bottoms of the walls, where faded paint peels from years of neglect. The air is thick with dampness and decay.

  I hang my head, focusing on the cracks between the dirty floorboards, playing my role. I hear him suck in a breath of surprise, hesitant footsteps, and then a warm hand on my neck. He touches where my tats should be. Where a screen would be if I were hiding them. He moves my hair aside, a single finger brushing the scar at the top of my spine.

  “Get out.”

  “But Sir, I...”

  “I’ve got her from here. Go home.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  A door closes, and I stay still for a moment. He’s backed away, and I slowly raise my head until my eyes meet his. I ignore the pistol in his hand. He looks older. Tired. I hope the guilt has been eating him alive.

  “What happened to you?” His forehead wrinkles as he looks down at me with concern, even as he keeps a finger hovering over the trigger. I can’t say I blame him for the precaution.

  With one foot, he pushes a chair toward me. I’d love to take that chair and beat him to death with it. Instead, I push myself awkwardly to my feet, hands still tied behind my back, and perch my ass on the edge of it.

  “Why did you do it?”

  “Whisp,” he scrubs his free hand over his face, “It’s not that simple.”

  “I deserve an answer, Charles.” I stand up, and even though he has the gun and I’m tied, he still backs up half a step. He knows what I’m capable of. “You were the closest thing I had to family, and you turned on me. I deserve to know why.”

  “Yes,” he says immediately. “Yes, you do. You deserve more than that.”

  He reaches for another chair, pulling it around so he can sit. His elbows rest on his knees as he slouches forward, his grip on the pistol relaxing.

  I sit back down, waiting for him to speak.

  “They wanted to take you. You threatened their system, and they wanted to fix the problem by taking you and selling you off-planet. I was a low-level recruiter, but I stood up for you. I convinced them that you wouldn’t be a problem. That I could keep you in line.”

  I laugh, the sound coming out more like a choke. “Keep me in line? You drugged me and tried to kill me, Charles. And you know damn well if someone tried to take me, I’d-”

  “No, Whisper. When you first came to the Academy. Do you remember the Cadet you met before I came along?”

  I definitely remember him. Agent Cunt. He met me at the front doors, where I showed up with a black eye, busted lip and a broken arm. The night before I had gotten the bright idea to tell my brothers that I was headed to the Academy the following morning. They thought it was hilarious that I believed I had a chance, but just in case, they decided to lower my odds even farther.

  The handsome cadet at the front door put his arm around my waist and guided me to the Medical wing. He told me he wanted to help, that they could heal me fast so I wouldn’t lose my chance to earn my way into the Academy.

  He was willing to help all right, in exchange for a blow job. I opted to introduce my knee to his balls instead, and he called me a cunt as I walked away... right into Charles.

  I never told Charles that story. He saw me beaten, but he knew what my brothers were like. I didn’t want to start off by complaining about a little altercation. I was well aware there would be plenty more and plenty worse over the next two years.

  “Yeah, I remember him. I didn’t tell you about him, though.”

  “No, you didn’t. But he was already involved with Horizon Zero, as was I. He let them know that you were going to be more trouble than they wanted, and they instructed me to bring you to them. I made a deal for your freedom, promising that I’d keep you well away from discovering any part of their operations.

  I told them you wouldn’t make it through the Academy, but you did. Then I convinced them you’d never make it past Enforcer, but you made me a liar there, too. When you got the offer from Gideon, that was it. As an Elite, you’d be out of my hands. Out of their reach. That couldn’t stand.

  Then there was that whole mess with Gideon’s niece... that should never have happened in the first place. They never take girls that well connected, but her mother found out about Horizon Zero’s operations. They murdered her and made it look like a suicide, then took Camilla. Gideon tracking you down for his Apprentice was clearly no coincidence.

  You were too close. Too much of a threat. They told me to kill you to prove my loyalty. I tried to refuse; I swear I did. I begged for your life, but they would have killed us both anyway.”

  A single tear runs down his face and he ignores it. It gets lost in the scruff of his week-old beard. I’ve never seen him go a day without shaving. His clothes are a size too big.

  “I’m going to take them down.”

  He looks up at me, his blue eyes are tired and dull. “Who?”

  “Whoever I can. I won’t live as a prop. I won’t be a puppet in this little show. I’ve got nothing left to lose. The Elders are corrupt. The Elites are a joke. Damon’s… gone. I can tear a hole in this. I can cripple them before they take me out.”

  He shakes his head slowly, reaching behind him to set the pistol on the table with a metallic thud that echoes in the empty room.

  “So that’s it, then? You want to die?”

  “I don’t particularly care if I live. But as long as I’m breathing, I plan to make it count.”

  “And how far do you think you’ll get without your implants?”

  “As far as I can.”

  No reason to tell him more than he needs to know. I’m already risking this whole plan by letting him in on it, but I can’t help but feel his remorse over what he did is real. Not that I forgive him or any shit
like that. Bastard can go to hell as far as I’m concerned. No matter what he tells himself to sleep at night, he could have told me what was going on and given me a chance to make a run for it. Not that I had anywhere to run. Damon and I could have lived in the woods, kept away from the cities... hell, I was screwed either way.

  “I can’t be a part of this. I just can’t.”

  “Get me on the shipment to Gliese.”

  “And then what? You can’t take down an organization this massive simply by killing a few people... even if they are upper-rank. You’re asking me to plant a bomb that’s going to piss off a lot of people I don’t want pissed off.”

  “I’m asking you to plant a bomb that’s going to draw attention to places they don’t want people looking. I want to kill someone important. Gliese is the best place to do that.”

  “Whisper, please. You’re upset, and you have every right to be. You want revenge, I get that. But you’re just one girl. You have no Shifter, no implants... you can’t do what you used to do.”

  “Look, I get it, Charles. I get why you did what you did. I don’t like it, and if I never see your face again it’ll be too soon. But I forgive you. Losing Damon has... it’s given me a different perspective. You risked a lot to keep me safe for a long time, and I’m grateful for that.”

  He opens his mouth as if to respond, his jaw working but no sound coming out. His eyes are suddenly glassy.

  “I have a plan. Get me on that shipment, and I swear no one will know we talked. You can put that hood back over my head, and none of this ever happened. I swear. It’s the least I can do after all you’ve done for me.”

  He nods, and although I’m saying what I need to say to get what I want, my own words are ringing truer than I expected. He did do a lot to keep me safe, in his own twisted way. He gave me the best chance he could, I suppose.

  I’d still like to break his face.

  But he’s nodding, picking up momentum as if the idea is growing on him. “Okay,” he announces as he stands from his chair, all at once seeming less like the worn-down old man and more like the Charles I knew. “I know where I need to take you.”