Eternal Void (Isabella Espinoza Book 2)

by K Hanson

  “Maybe, but why take that chance? Just take me inside, and I’ll talk to you. I promise.”

  I nodded and led her up to the door.

  I checked the knob. Still locked. After a pause to listen for anything beyond the door, it didn’t sound like anything was in my office. It never hurt to be careful, especially after my friend had gotten kidnapped from his own office and home just a few weeks before.

  After fishing my brass key out of my pocket, I fitted it into the lock and clicked it open. My shoulders relaxed as I stepped into the comfortable warmth of my office. The familiar space wrapped around me like a gentle hug, welcoming me from the dark and cold outside.

  My little desk sat on the other side of the room, with one chair on either side. Orbs of dim yellow light from the lamps outside shone through the brown curtains, reflecting off the green walls around us.

  “Come on in,” I said to Amari, waving her inside. “Please sit.” I pointed her to the chair just in front of my small wooden desk.

  She sank onto the chair with a heavy sigh.

  I strode around the desk to my rolling office chair. It squeaked a bit as I sat down on the slightly flat cushion. I clicked on the lamp that rested on my desk, and it lit the room with a soft reddish glow. Most light would make me itchy, but I found that a little red light was something I could tolerate.

  “Can I get you anything, Amari?”

  She wrung her hands. “No, I’m okay, thanks.”

  “Then, can you tell me more about your wound and what happened to you?”

  She rubbed the base of her throat, shifting in her chair. “I don’t know if you’ll believe me.”

  “Trust me, after the stuff I’ve seen and gone through, I am ready to believe almost anything.”

  She took a deep breath. “Fine. I think I was killed, then came back.”

  I froze in my chair. This was not something I had expected. “What do you mean? The enslavers killed you and resuscitated you?”

  “No, not like that. And it was before the enslavers had me. I think they just picked me up after I was dead. Then somehow, I got resurrected, but I don’t know who or what did it.”

  “What makes you think you were actually dead?”

  “I’m not sure, just a feeling. It was different, darker somehow, than being asleep or knocked out for surgery. Can you help me find who killed me? That might help us figure out what’s going on.”

  “Why don’t you think the enslavers killed you and brought you back?” I asked.

  “Why go through the trouble of murdering someone just to resurrect them as a slave? And I never saw anything like medical equipment or technology. I think the enslavers just got lucky when they found me, though I guess I don’t know for sure.”

  “What can you tell me about that scar on your neck?” I asked.

  Amari ran a finger along the line of it.

  “Not much. It’s new, though. I had it when I woke up.”

  I studied Amari. She had been through a lot. Kidnapped and held hostage were bad enough, but now she thought she had actually been killed and brought back to life. She needed help. Her eyes were desperate as she stared right at me. Most people looked away from my red irises, but she held my gaze with a determined expression. The sort of look people have when they aren’t actually that confident but want to fake it, either for themselves or those around them.

  “I can help you,” I said. “But I’ll need more information. Can you try to remember more about what happened the day you died?” I pulled out a notebook and pen from the top drawer of my desk. “Tell me everything that you can recall.”

  Amari nodded. She stared down at the surface of my desk, her face scrunched in concentration.

  “I had just stopped by the store for some food. It was a foggy night, so it was hard to see everything. I remember that it was cold, colder than usual, so I tried to get home as fast as I could.” She hugged herself, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. “I cut through an alley as a shortcut. I had done it a hundred times before without any problems. I don’t remember much after that. Everything between stepping into the alley and waking up inside that enslaver compound is a blur. I’m sorry. I wish I could tell you more.”

  “That’s okay,” I said as I finished writing down what she told me. “Sometimes, our brains block out a traumatic event. And I think getting killed definitely counts. Maybe if I ask some other questions, your memory will come back to you. Stop me if it’s too much.”

  “I can try,” she said, biting her lip.

  “Just before your memory goes blank, is there anything you can recall about what was going on around you?” I tapped my pen on the notebook as I looked at her. “Any sights? Sounds? Smells? Did you feel anything different? I know it might be painful, but close your eyes and imagine you’re back in that alley. What’s there?”

  She closed her eyes and paused for a minute.

  “I remember a breeze,” she said. “A cold gust came down the alley.”

  I jotted it down, though I didn’t think the wind would really matter in this case.

  “Good,” I said. “What else?”

  “Then, something warm on the back of my neck. Like someone breathing. And a smell, like those body sprays that guys think smell good but are actually awful.”

  I chuckled as I continued my notes. “I know exactly what you mean. This is great, Amari. This can help. Anything else?”

  She shuddered.

  “Pain. Terrible pain in the side of my neck, then something hot and wet running down my throat.” Her voice shook, tears welling in her eyes. “Blood, I think. It smelled like blood.” A look of disgust passed over her face. “And I tasted it, too. I fell to my hands and knees, and a moment later, everything faded.” Her eyes blinked open. “That’s everything I can remember. I hope it helps.”

  She might be able to recall some more later, but I didn’t want to keep pushing. If I went too hard, she might just shut down, and that would be no help at all.

  I set my pen and notebook down on the desk. “This is a great starting point for looking into it.”

  Amari wiped her eyes and cleared her throat.

  “Do you have any water?” she asked.

  “Of course.” I bent down and opened a mini-fridge behind my desk. Thankfully, my little generator outside powered enough to keep my home office comfortable. I grabbed a bottle of water and slid it across the desk.

  “Can you tell me where this alley is?” I asked as she took a drink.

  She nodded as she swallowed. “Yes, it’s in a settlement on the other side of Sioux Falls. I can take you there if you want.”

  “Eventually, when you’re ready. You’ve had a big day and need some rest. Once you’ve gotten some, then we can talk about going there and starting to investigate what’s going on with you.”

  She pushed a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “Can I ask you something?”

  I crossed my arms and leaned back in my chair, which groaned at the shift in weight.

  “Sure, go ahead,” I said.

  “What happened with you at the enslaver place? You seemed to lose control a bit, almost like an animal. No offense, though,” she added quickly. “You took out the worst of them, and I appreciate that, but it didn’t seem quite, well, human.”

  She’d opened up to me and had even saved my life in the heat of battle. I supposed I owed her an explanation.

  “A while back, I was bitten by a night stalker. A friend had given me an antidote, though it was experimental. I took it just after the bite, and it stopped me from transforming into a night stalker, but I picked up some of their traits. I’m faster, stronger, can see in the dark. But it also gave me these.” I pointed to my eyes. “And that part of me also seems to enjoy killing.” I shivered as I remembered the hot burning within me, the joy of bloodlust. “I shouldn’t like it, but I do. Sometimes, that part of me escapes my self-control. Not often, though. And not to someone innocent.”

  “Sounds both useful and scar
y,” she said.

  I let out a short laugh. “You’re not wrong.”

  “Do you ever get used to it? Killing people? How do you get over it?”

  “I hope you never get used to it, as that isn’t healthy. But I get over it by reminding myself that if I hadn’t killed them, they would have killed me or someone else.”

  She wrung her fingers in her lap. “I can still see him and feel his blood on my hands.”

  “Amari, you saved my life. I owe you that. We wouldn’t have gotten out without your help. You did well. And if you ever need someone to talk to, I’ll be here.”

  She nodded, and then her eyes widened.

  “Oh,” she said, “I just remembered something else from that day. As I was dying, someone mentioned a person they called the ‘Necromancer.’ Does that mean anything to you?”

  I had never heard of anyone going by the title of “Necromancer.”

  “No, it doesn’t. Did you learn anything about him?”

  Amari shook her head. “No, just that’s what they called him.”

  “Well, a necromancer is someone who raises people from the dead. I suppose he could be the one responsible for bringing you back to life.”

  “You think he’s a good person? He did help me.”

  “I guess that depends on why he brought you back. And if the people who killed you work with him. But I suppose we’ll have to find out. At least that gives us another trail to follow.”

  Amari wrapped her arms tight around herself. “Do you think I could stay here tonight?”

  “Actually, your uncle should be on the way soon. My friend was going to let him know that we had found you.”

  Amari tilted her head. “Uncle? What uncle?”

  “Your uncle hired me to find you. He gave me your pictures and everything.”

  She pursed her lips. “I…I don’t think I have an uncle. Actually, I know I don’t.”

  That sure as shit wasn’t the response I expected.

  “Are you sure you’re not just having trouble remembering? He even said you had gone out to get food, which matches up with your version of the story,” I said.

  “No, I know I don’t have an uncle. I lived with some friends. Whoever came to you, isn’t someone I know.”

  I stared at Amari, trying to see if there was anything off about what she said. Her friends would have had no reason to lie about being her uncle, if they had come to me. Perhaps her experience had affected her memory, but she had been upfront about what she remembered clearly and what she did not. Her expression was sincere, her eyes steady.

  If what she said was true, then who the fuck was about to show up at my office?

  CHAPTER 4

  Someone was coming to pick up Amari, someone who had claimed to be her uncle when he had asked me to find her. The question was, if it wasn’t her uncle, who would it be?

  “This is very strange,” I said. “This man even had evidence that he had known you. He had pictures of you as a kid, all the way up until close to now. How would someone get those?”

  Amari shuddered. “I have no clue. But I don’t like this. And this person is coming here to pick me up?”

  “Yeah, I sent Jack to find him and let him know I found you. I should have talked to you about it before, but everything seemed to be in order.”

  Footsteps sounded outside, approaching the door. A shadow passed between the outside yellow lights and the curtains.

  I slid up to them and peeked out. That man who had introduced himself as Amari’s “uncle,” with a medium height, stocky build, and a receding hairline, stepped up to my door and knocked.

  Amari hurried up next to me and grabbed my arm.

  “Please, don’t let him in,” she said in a hoarse whisper. “I can’t go with someone I don’t know. A stranger pretending to be my uncle is super creepy.”

  I couldn’t help but agree. Someone had posed as Amari’s uncle to get me to find her. The question was, why would someone do that? And should I let him in? If I talked to him, maybe I could lure some answers out of him. And he already knew Amari was back, so he was going to try to find her anyway.

  No, I needed to see what this uncle had to say for himself.

  “Amari, I need you to trust me. I’m going to let this man in.”

  She let go of me and stepped back. “Why? You’re not going to let him take me, are you?”

  “No, if you don’t recognize him, I won’t let him take you. You get to choose where you go, and if you don’t like this man, you can stay here until we figure this out. But maybe he knows something about what led up to your death and capture.”

  Amari nodded, then retreated to the chair. She turned it and pressed it against the wall so that nothing could approach her back.

  I strode over to the door and pulled it open.

  The man smiled at me, then glanced past my shoulder at Amari. “Ah, you did find her. Can I come in?”

  I nodded and waved him in.

  “Amari, I’m so happy the good detective found you,” the man said.

  Amari pulled her legs up, curling up on the chair.

  I kept myself between the two of them as he came into the room. A smell of too much cologne hit my nose. Or maybe body spray. The same thing that Amari had described earlier? Maybe. I didn’t believe it was a coincidence.

  “Okay, sir, do you care to sit down for a moment? I just have a few more questions to ask to wrap up the investigation before you can take Amari home.”

  “Of course. I’ll help any way I can.”

  “Perfect,” I said.

  I went around my desk and brought my swivel chair out to him so he could sit, though I positioned it far enough from Amari that he couldn’t reach her. I perched myself between them on the edge of the desk. In the background, the heater groaned to life, rumbling the walls as the fan kicked on.

  “So, if you don’t mind my asking,” the uncle said, “where did you find my dear Amari?”

  “Some enslavers kidnapped her. I don’t know where they were planning on taking her. But don’t worry, they’ve all probably been torn to shreds by night stalkers by now.”

  No reaction from the man. He probably wasn’t with the enslavers, or there would have at least been a microexpression at learning people he knew were dead. Or he had a killer poker face. But nobody could hide all their reactions perfectly.

  “So, what did you need to ask me? I’m sure Amari is eager to go home and put all of this nastiness behind her.”

  Amari shifted in her seat, still curled up with her legs hugged to her chest, justifiably terrified.

  “Yes, I just need to know that she’s going to a safe place,” I said. “She was in rough conditions within the enslaver camp, and I can’t just let some person take her away if they can’t properly take care of her. Where do you plan on living after this?”

  “Back at my home. You sent your friend to find me there, so you should know where it is.”

  I had it written down in my files in my desk, as well.

  “I do. Would you mind me stopping by to check on her every couple of days for a while? I want to make sure she’s recovering from her traumatic experience.”

  “Stop by?” he asked as he blinked twice in quick succession. “Ah, yes, of course. That would be no problem.”

  Something about that question made him a bit nervous.

  “Do you have a way of keeping your house safe from possible reprisals from the enslavers? In case they decide they want their captive back?”

  “I thought you said they were all dead.”

  “They might be. But some of them might have lived. Can you handle them?”

  “I think being inside these walls should be enough, right? But, if not, I am armed and can handle intruders.”

  I nodded.

  “If you say you can handle yourself, I believe you. But they can be quite vicious. You see the scar on Amari’s neck? They gave that to her while they tried to capture her.”

  I didn’t know if that
was true, but I wanted to see how he’d react.

  He glanced over at Amari, shifting in his seat. “That is a nasty scar. But you said the enslavers did it? It’s healed so quickly.”

  “Interesting, I hadn’t noticed.”

  Of course, I had noticed the scar earlier. And this man was paying particular attention to how quickly it had closed. Had he witnessed the wound being inflicted?

  “The thing is, Amari doesn’t remember having an uncle. Do you know why that could be?”

  His gaze shot back toward me.

  “This is absurd. Of course, you have an uncle, Amari.” He gave her a wide, fake smile. “Don’t you remember me?”

  She shook her head.

  “Maybe she just doesn’t remember? Did the enslavers do something to her to affect her memory?”

  “Her memory seems good to me,” I said. “She told me quite a few details about the night she was killed and taken. More than many victims I’ve questioned. And she remembers who she lived with before the attack. It wasn’t an uncle.”

  He crossed his arm and leaned back in the chair. “What are you saying? You think I’m a liar?”

  “I think you’re something, and I want to know what that is. Why are you pretending to be her uncle?”

  “Maybe I’m just someone who cares and wanted her found. I saw her attack and wanted to help.”

  “But why didn’t you just say that? And if you were just a bystander, where did all of those photos come from? You knew enough about her to get those and show them to me. Why? What’s your connection here?”

  “This is crazy. What difference does it make? I asked you to find a woman who had been kidnapped, and you saved her. Why does it matter why I asked you to do it or who I am?”

  “It matters because Amari is terrified of you, and I want to know why. You wouldn’t have had to lie if you were just a witness. But you know more than that. Why do you want to take her so badly?”

  He stammered for words. His hand moved toward his hip.

  “What are you reaching for?” I asked. “We’re just talking here.”

  “Nothing,” he said as he scratched his side and moved his hands back to the armrests.

  “It looked like you were looking for a weapon. It’s not a good idea to start something with me,” I warned. I stared down at him.