Jekyll, an Urban Fantasy Page 3

  Mitch clenched his jaw, but didn’t reply. What could he say? The cop was right—his judgment had been impaired from the moment he’d met her. And in the last two weeks nothing had improved. Hyde was so fucking unpredictable now, Mitch spent at least half of each day in the cage. The other half was spent searching for her, cursing the motherfucking world, and fighting off Hyde’s tugs until he couldn’t do it anymore. Then he got to hurry back to his prison cell or shoot himself up again, depending on how bad-off he was. Good times, good times.

  For now, Mitch wasn’t all that concerned about addiction. He only shot up when the pain and the pull got to be too much. The rest of the time, he relied on the trusty steel of his cage and his cuffs. Nice things to have faith in—metal needles and metal bars.

  Landon scratched his cheek before easing out of the chair, grabbing the key, and unlocking the door. As soon as he heard the click, Mitch pushed the door open, taking a quick breath of freedom before heading downstairs.

  Landon trailed after him. “Where are you going?”

  “Back to the hospital. I’m going to ask around again.” He pushed mail and take-out ads around the side table in the foyer. If he never ate another spring roll, it would be too fucking soon. With his luck, hell was probably lined with the goddamned things. “Where are my fucking car keys?”

  Landon shrugged. “The war room, maybe?”

  “Damn, man.” Between the morphine Mitch was injecting and the amount of liquor Landon was pouring down his throat, the place had turned into a fraternity house. Without the half-naked girls and the fun of puking. Two weeks of complete dysfunction. Searching for a woman who’d been wiped off the planet by an organization that was already nowhere to be found. No signs. They’d had no signs, no leads, nothing.

  Carter’s confession letter was a day late and about fourteen million dollars short. So the guy had admitted to dosing Eden with something while Jolie had been dosing him. Hurray for the outdated intel. And there was some place called ‘The Clinic’ that had put them up to it, but the kid didn’t know anything else. Or, if he had, he didn’t write it down. So basically, they had squat.

  And Eden’s apartment had been a total bust. Somehow The Clinic had gotten there before they did—probably the second Carter went down. Shit, the only things the bastards had left behind were dust and a few kitchen gadgets. Thankfully, they’d left a wine opener. So Mitch had something to grind into the first Clinic employee he came across.

  They’d searched Jolie’s apartment as well. Even if they didn’t know The Clinic had already gone through the place, the bitch was too smart to leave anything hanging on the fridge with a ‘Fuck you, Mitch’ magnet attached to it. Her place looked as if it had never even been lived in. Perfectly coiffed, just like she was. Or just like she had been. Now she was probably in a pretty little urn stuck in a he-didn’t-give-a-shit-about location, and she was all dusty. She would’ve hated it. Good.

  And things just kept getting better after that. Landon got canned—his badge and whatever the hell else made him feel important stripped off faster than a hooker’s panties. With no warning, no explanation, no fancy watch, no sayonara-thanks-for-your-service cupcakes. So with that went any police resources they might’ve been able to pilfer and secretly funnel into the exciting new venture they were teaming up for.

  At least Landon still had some friends at the station, so when the day came that they were desperate for help—as if that day hadn’t come over and over in the last few weeks—he’d be able to call in a favor. But until they had something, anything, to move on, Landon had decided it was best to hold onto that good will and not abuse it. Mitch had been all over the abuse part of the idea, but Landon was one stubborn-assed MoFo. It was probably the only reason he could ignore all of Mitch’s…quirks.

  And Mitch felt useless. Or worse. What was more emasculating than needing a goddamn babysitter to tuck you into your cage at night and let you out in the morning?

  The dining room table was overrun with papers. Papers filled with scribbled notes of observations that meant nothing. Maps of South Florida with possible places they could have taken her circled in black that led nowhere.

  “You’re worse than I am, Landon. This is supposed to be our HQ, not a fucking recycling bucket.” He found his keys under one of the many graphs they’d brainstormed on. The words ‘Why?’ ‘Who?’ and ‘Where?’ written so many times, they dented the paper. Words uncomfortably familiar to him now, constantly passing through his mind with nothing else to attach to. Maybe he should get a tattoo. So if anyone ever asked him why the hell he was so pissed off, he could just point to his forehead. Not that anyone would ask, of course—one look at him and they’d know better than to engage.

  Landon came into the room. “How many times have you been to the hospital? We’ve already spoken to everyone.”

  “No, you’ve spoken to everyone. I’ve growled at everyone. Today I’m going to try being nice. Use the happy-go-lucky part of my personality.”

  “You don’t have a happy anything.”

  He turned to the cop and glared at him. Then slowly, painfully, he smiled. “I’m going to have to change that.”

  Landon winced. “Maybe you should practice a bit before you go. And take a shower.”

  “And maybe you should put your drink down and clean your shit out of here.” He turned to the long mirror on the wall. Yeah, he needed to take a shower. And shave. He looked more like a monster than ever.

  The two men stared at themselves in the mirror. After a few moments, they looked at the other’s reflection.

  “We’ll find her, Mitch,” Landon said softly. “It just may take a while.”

  Mitch was about to correct him, say something snide about calling him Mitch instead of Mitchell. But he didn’t. Because the guy was the only help he had, the only friend he had—not that he’d ever admit that out loud, of course. And he normally called him ‘Turner’. Primarily when they were arguing—so basically, their entire relationship. But he understood Landon’s intent when he slipped. And he let it go.

  In return and out of respect, Mitch still called him ‘cop’, even though he wasn’t one officially anymore, or ‘asshole’ just because he’d always be one, officially or not.

  But despite all of Mitch’s pushing, all of the people he scared away, he still needed someone. He’d always had someone he could trust. First his sister, then Jolie, and finally Eden. But when you find out that your most trusted friend spent your entire relationship doping you and then killed your sister, well, trust was something that came hard.

  And Eden? Damn it. He didn’t just trust her, he needed her. Like ice needs winter, he needed her to exist.

  But until he found her, Landon was all he had. And the guy was trying. He’d have to be trying to put up with Mitch’s shit. Hell, maybe that just meant the cop was stupid. Did Mitch trust him one-hundred percent? No. Total trust was an impossibility. But he seemed sincere, and Mitch would’ve self-destructed over a week ago without him. For most men that would be proof enough. But Mitch took everything with a grain of salt. No, that wasn’t right. Mitch took everything with a salt mine.

  “Try talking to your friends at the station again,” Mitch said. “Someone there has to know something.”

  “What do you think I’ve been doing? Eating donuts? The Clinic must offer a great benefits package. Because whoever they have working for them in the station isn’t giving anything away.”

  “What about the shrink you told me about? The one who interviewed Eden. Has she come back?”

  “Alexandra Bertram.” Landon shook his head. “Nope. No sign of her at the station or at her apartment. She disappeared as quickly as Carter did. The same magician probably did both tricks.”

  The first thing Mitch had done after learning Eden was gone was go to the hospital—well, right after he’d broken a few pieces of furniture and whatever else he could get his hands on.

  Carter should’ve been there. Hooked up to a thousand machines. But i
n the short time it took for Mitch and Landon to get there, the room had been completely cleaned-out. And no one had seen a thing. Yeah, right. Jolie had knocked the guy around so hard, his surgery had lasted for hours. How the hell did no one see anything? Unless he’d sleepwalked out of the place, it must have taken a bunch of people to haul his ass out of there. And the kid’s chart had been so neatly filled-in. Some fake doctor knew just which boxes to check, which bogus private hospital’s name to put in. Someone else had even taken the time to put all that information into the computer system so no nurse or data-entry person had to do it. That was thoughtful. And of course, when it comes time for bills to get paid, properly filled-in boxes set off fewer alarms than deleted files.

  It was all he could do to keep from wailing on someone. Granted, Landon had been there to hold him back from causing too much damage. And he’d paid for the wall he’d put his fist through.

  He saw his grin in the mirror. It looked hateful, his lips pulled back in a sneer. Huh. Yeah, he might have to practice a little more on the way there.

  CHAPTER III

  “Tell me about Mitch,” Eden said. “Is he alright?”

  “He’s fine...for now.” Alex folded her hands on the table. “Detective Landon is with him.”

  “Is Landon in on it?”

  “There’s nothing to be ‘in on,’ Eden. We’re just trying to help you.”

  “Sure you are,” she said, eyes rolling. “Everyone knows the best way to help someone is to tell them as many lies as possible and secretly drug them.”

  Alex nodded. “I know it may be hard to hear, but it’s the truth. Mitch is in a state of decline. His transformations are taking a toll on his body, probably on his mind as well. If he doesn’t receive the serum we’ve developed, his Hyde will start appearing more often and with more violence. And eventually, he will”—she grimaced—“combust. Just like his father did fifteen years ago.”

  Eden shrugged nonchalantly to hide her shiver of fear. “I didn’t know him.” All Mitch had told her was that he’d killed Mitch’s mother before Mitch had killed him.

  “Mitch’s father,” Alex said, “refused to accept our help. Even if Mitch hadn’t killed him, he was already lost. And the same thing will happen to Mitch unless we do something to stop it.”

  Eden blinked away her confusion, her worry—there was no time for that. She needed to learn everything she could. “What exactly will happen?”

  “He’ll be unable to come back into himself. Unable to be a man again. All that will be left is the beast. But we can stop that from happening—you and I, Eden. By working together, we can give him what he needs to be human.”

  What he needs. “No, I can’t.” Eden had already given him everything she had—her heart, her body, her soul. And it hadn’t been enough. There was nothing in her left to give. Nothing in her he let himself want, let alone need. That had been proven when he told her to go away, when he gave up on her and on finding out more about The Clinic. She slumped back in the chair, the hospital gown providing no protection from the chill of the metal chair. She hoped the cold would numb her emotions as it numbed her skin.

  “So you’ve already given up on him?” Alex asked.

  Oh shit. She had. Sometimes the truth can sting, even when spoken by a liar. She sat up straight, breaking up the pity-party that danced in her mind. She wouldn’t do what he did. She wouldn’t give up.

  “No,” she said. “But I don’t know how.”

  “We can’t do it alone. You have to help. We need to work together to get him what he needs.”

  “The serum that Jolie was giving us?”

  “It could be more than that. More than the serum that Jolie was giving him. More than the serum Carter was giving you.”

  “They were different?”

  “Yes, because you are different.”

  “Yeah, you mentioned that. But I change like he does. So why the different serum?”

  “Because you’re female. And…your reactions are different than any other Jekyll we’ve seen.”

  “Wait. Back up. While I just love your pet names for us, I don’t get it. He’s a ‘Hyde’ and I’m a ‘Jekyll’?”

  Alex nodded, almost smiling as she explained. “The phenomenon is incredible—how different the male and female reaction to your condition is. So yes, we now refer to the males as ‘Hydes’ and the females as “Jekylls’.”

  Chastity. Good ole Chastity was her Jekyll. “Wow, that must make record-keeping tough. You know, with us all having the same stupid name.”

  Alex’s lips tightened, but stayed stuck in that ugly grin until she spoke. “You are Jekyll number twenty-six.”

  Eden’s jaw dropped. Not from being called a number, though fairly horrible it was somewhat expected. Of course they looked at her as a number. But the more troubling part was which number they’d chosen for her. “Twenty-six?” There were at least twenty-five other women like her? How high had they counted up to? “How many ‘Jekylls’ are there?”

  “Not as many as we’d like, unfortunately. They tend to get themselves killed. The Hydes are even worse—locating and keeping one of them alive is practically impossible.”

  “Why?”

  “Well…” She paused, like she was trying to find the right way to say it without upsetting Eden too much. Which was impossible—Eden couldn’t be more upset. “As you know, Hydes are violent. They seek violence. So, more often than not, they end up getting themselves killed before we can reach out to them.”

  “That’s gotta be tough for you,” Eden said dryly.

  “It makes our research more difficult, that’s for sure. And it makes those Abnormals who are still living even more valuable to us.”

  Was that supposed to make Eden feel better? That she was a ‘valuable’ commodity? That her kind was referred to as ‘Abnormals’? She stared at the woman who seemed to have no problem discussing Jekylls and Hydes as if they were merely lab rats. Certainly not people. And why would she? Eden’s kind was only mostly human, mostly normal.

  There was a knock on the door. The guard went to it and took the clothes and food from outstretched arms attached to a person Eden couldn’t see.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” the guard grumbled.

  “I just wanted to— Is she alright?” she heard the person ask quietly. A voice she recognized.

  Without thought, she shoved the chair backwards and launched herself towards the door before it closed. The guard dropped what he had in his arms and tried to grab her. She ducked around him, but he caught her around the waist. She stretched her body out, grasping at the door handle, turning it, and pushed with all of her might. Maybe with all of Chastity’s might. When the guard’s hands slipped on her gown, she scrambled forward.

  But it was too late. The hallway was empty. Whoever it was—Carter. That was Carter’s voice. Goddamn it—had already gone. She stopped moving, stunned, afraid to see the traitorous bastard still alive.

  “You’re strong for a little thing,” the guard said as he wrapped his other arm around her waist, lifted her up, and pulled the door shut.

  “You heard him?” Alex furiously scribbled something on a small notepad, a delighted smile on her face.

  “Of course I heard him. Who was it?” she screamed, her feet still a few inches off the ground, rigid but useless. “Who was there?” She needed to know she wasn’t going crazy, that the voice belonged to Carter and wasn’t a figment of her imagination. She could barely handle Chastity’s thoughts appearing in her mind as if they were her own. Damn it. If Carter was in there too, she stood zero chance of staying sane.

  The guard said nothing as he carried her to her chair and went to pick up what he’d dropped. He tossed light blue scrubs and a granola bar at her, and slammed the soda can onto the table.

  “Who was that?” she asked Alex. “Was that Carter?” Was he alive? Healed from the wounds Jolie had inflicted on him before leaving Eden to wake up covered in his blood, thinking she’d done it?


  Alex’s pause was all the answer she needed. But Eden wanted to hear her say it.

  “Goddamn it! This is about trust, isn’t it, Alex? You want me to trust you. So be worthy of that trust. Tell me that was Carter!”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t even hear him, let alone see him.”

  “Are you kidding me?” She glared at the guard. “You saw him. Was it Carter or wasn’t it?”

  He glanced at Alex who shrugged. “Yep, it was.”

  “I want to talk to him. Now. I want to see that prick right now.” The last time she’d seen him, she’d trusted him, loved him. Not in the romantic way he’d wanted her to, but she had loved him. She’d thought she almost killed him while she was Chastity. Now she felt like killing him while she was herself. Whoever the hell she was.

  Even if Carter had eventually tried to fix the situation, or at least stop Jolie from creating more death, it still wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. She’d never trust his loyalties again. And if she hadn’t already believed that, the fact that he was hanging out here at The Clinic, delivering clothing and snacks to their captive, proved even an inkling of trust would be wasted on him.

  § § §

  For some ungodly amount of time, Eden waited in silence. Alex kept asking questions about how Eden felt and what she remembered, but Eden kept her mouth shut. If Alex wanted answers badly enough, then she needed a few lessons in relationships. You give a little, prove your goodwill, before expecting anything in return. But a warm soda and some clothes Eden still hadn’t touched didn’t cut it.

  “I want to see Carter,” Eden repeated.

  Eventually Alex got frustrated enough to leave, taking the guard with her. Probably to pow-wow. Concoct another evil plan and practice their wicked laughs or something.

  Eden should’ve asked for a watch because time was as unknown as anything else within these walls. A watch and a window—so she’d know if it was AM or PM.

  She used the time to try and figure out what was happening inside of her head. Her mind was unbalanced, as if she was still dreaming of war. Of a fight to the death. A fight for who she wanted to be. Eden. I just want to be myself for fuck’s sake. With that word and that thought, the battle waged on—to control her thoughts, reactions, and her tongue. After changing into the set of scrubs they’d given her, confused why she didn’t really care if someone walked in on her, she decided to—oh hell, why not—wait a little.