Jekyll, an Urban Fantasy Page 6

  “Five minutes ago I thought we had nothing, and I was perfectly fine. If, in twenty minutes from now, I feel that way again, I’ll be fine.”

  Landon cocked an eyebrow. “You think you’re fine? That this”—he motioned to Mitch’s damaged face—“is you being fine?”

  Mitch shrugged him off. “This is as fine as I’m ever going to be.”

  Landon took so fucking long to get in the damn car, Mitch seriously considered leaving the guy behind. But he didn’t know where the hell Carter had been spotted. Nor did he really feel like going to every liquor store in the county harassing people. Well, he almost didn’t feel like doing that.

  Landon slid into the passenger side. “Are you sure you can drive? When’s the last time you shot yourself up?”

  “Are you worried about me, Landon?”

  “I’m way past worried about you. You’re losing it, man.”

  “You’re wrong,” he said, slamming the gearshift into reverse and peeling out before Landon had even closed the door.

  “I’m not wrong. You’re turning into a frigging menace. You’re losing control. Don’t tell me I’m wrong, because I’m not. And if you don’t see it happening, that’s the most frightening part of all.”

  He kept his eyes on the road. “You’re wrong because it’s done. I’m done. I’m not losing control. It’s already lost. I don’t fucking remember a time it wasn’t.” He’d never been free, not once. Controlled by Hyde and then by The Clinic. Being slung back and forth in games he wanted no part in. And if he were honest with himself, even Eden controlled him. The feelings he had for her, the fear he felt that she would never come back, that he’d never see her again, weakened his resolve, his will. Not for justice. No, that would never weaken. But for life? Well, that was a far more pathetic story.

  “Where are we going?” he snapped.

  Landon gave him an address about thirty minutes south of the house. Shit. Thirty minutes was nothing. Nothing, when it felt like she was a lifetime away already.

  “You need to pull it together,” Landon said in that irritatingly ever-patient tone he had. “I need you to pull it together. Hell, so does she.”

  “After.”

  “After what?”

  “After I rip the heads off of the bastards who took her, tear them apart limb-from-limb. Then I’ll pull it together.”

  Neither of them spoke for a few minutes. When Landon finally did, his voice was soft, sad. “What if by then, it’s too late?”

  After that, neither of them spoke for a long time.

  § § §

  They showed Carter’s picture to everyone inside until the cashier asked them to leave. Then, after Landon flashed his fake, right-out-of-a-cereal-box-looking badge, the guy told Mitch to wait outside. So Mitch left peacefully and watched Landon do the helpful-cop-thing through the window with his nose pressed up against the glass.

  As soon as Landon came out of the liquor store, shaking his head, Mitch asked, “Are you sure this is the right place?”

  “Yes. How many people did you accost out front?”

  Mitch scratched his nose. “A couple.”

  Landon blew out a breath. “You’re attitude isn’t helping anything. No one wants to help me with you breathing over my shoulder, glaring at them. You’re scaring people, Turner. And every day it’s getting worse. Like a rabid dog or something.”

  “You’ll know when I go rabid, Landon. It’ll be hard to miss.” He paced in front of the car. “So what now?”

  “The problem is that Carter looks like the hundred other twenty-somethings in this neighborhood. So we wait to see if anyone resembling him comes back. But you need to stay in the car. I can’t have you wailing on some poor guy who just happens to be unlucky enough to look like him.”

  “It’s a fucking liquor store!” Mitch slammed his fists down onto the hood of the car. “Unless he’s drinking as much as you are, he doesn’t come here every day. So how long will we have to wait?”

  “You got something better to do?”

  “No,” he mumbled, dropping his head forward. He felt so useless, so inept. He knew he was doing more damage than good. But he couldn’t help himself. Between the constant pain from Hyde and the painful knowledge that there was nothing he could do, even he didn’t trust his judgment.

  “When’s the last time you slept?” Landon asked.

  “I don’t know, what month is it?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Okay, Mom. I promise I will go to bed early tonight. Happy?”

  “Is it because of Hyde?”

  Mitch sighed, rocking his jaw back and forth to loosen it. “Partly.”

  “Let me guess. The other part is because of her.”

  It bothered Mitch that they never used her name. Never saying her name fogged his memory of her. Like he’d done with his sister. Never referring to them by name somehow made one’s death and one’s disappearance less real. And the worst part was that he liked it that way. He was starting to detach from the love he’d lost, his feelings becoming unreal or vague, as if he’d never loved her at all.

  “No,” he said, wiping his hands over his face. “The other part is because of these fucking drugs. I’d like to spend at least a few hours a day enjoying a bit of coherency and be out of the cage. So sleep has moved way down on my list of priorities.”

  “Then stop taking so much of it.”

  “You should talk.”

  Since he’d known him, Landon had cleaned out his liquor cabinet twice. By himself. He didn’t know how the guy did it and still be able to stand upright. Or speak without slurring. He would’ve put money on Landon being unable to stop himself from buying a couple bottles while he showed Carter’s picture around the liquor store. Maybe he was out of cash.

  With nothing to do, Landon was flailing. Even if this lead turned out to be as bogus as the others, it would do him good. Get his mind off of what he’s lost. Make him feel useful. Maybe drink less.

  Shit, they were both flailing. “How about this?” Mitch asked. “We each take turns on the wagon. I’ll pull while you ride, and then we’ll switch.”

  “Sure. We’ll start tomorrow. That’ll give me enough time to find a cute, little red one.” Landon blew out a puff of air, staring at his hands as if they were already doing the shimmy-shake of withdrawal.

  “So what do we do now, detective?”

  “Former detective.”

  “It doesn’t always have to be that way. You could get a job at another precinct.” Mitch didn’t know why he wanted to ease the guy’s pain. Because, frankly, he was the last person anyone should ask to find a silver-lining in anything. A tarnished, dented, and rusted-through one, sure. But not silver. Silver was for spoons rich babies were fed with. Even as a kid, Mitch had had to forage for his own meal, his mom a bit too preoccupied with keeping his bastard of a father from killing them all.

  “Maybe, maybe not.” Landon shook off whatever thoughts had made his eyes distant. “Let’s worry about now. And now, we wait.” He opened the car door and ducked inside.

  Mitch followed suit, sliding into the driver’s side. “I thought having an ex-cop around would actually mean we got to do cop-stuff. Like break down doors and water-board people until they talked. I was kinda looking forward to that part.”

  “I bet you were. We are doing cop-stuff. Most of what cops do is wait until someone makes a mistake.” He reclined his seat and leaned backwards, stretching out his long legs as much as possible. “Hopefully, my friend was right and the guy he saw was Carter. Then we can assume Carter lives around here and will need to do some more shopping soon. When he does, we grab him.”

  “And then we get to water-board the asshole?”

  “Coming from anyone else, I’d assume that was a joke. But with you…”

  Mitch slumped back in the car seat. “So basically, you’re telling me we do nothing.”

  “Basically.”

  That was unacceptable. Doing nothing wasn’t in Mitch’s vocabulary.
He’d last maybe ten minutes. Tops.

  Seven minutes later, Landon sighed. “Would you stop banging the goddamn steering wheel? It’s giving me a headache.”

  “Was I banging the steering wheel?” Mitch looked at his fist as it smacked down again. Huh. I guess I was.

  Landon rolled his eyes. “This isn’t working. One of us is going to lose it. Probably me.” He ran his hands through his crew cut. “Okay, this is what we’re going to do. Since I can’t trust you to be alone…in public, you go back to your place. Watch porn, do your nails, whatever. I’ll set up surveillance on the liquor store.”

  “I thought you couldn’t use department resources anymore.”

  “I can’t. None of this is on the books. But I have a few friends who owe me.”

  “I need to make some friends.”

  “Stop being such an asshole and it may happen.”

  CHAPTER VI

  Eden stood in the hallway, shocked that Fields hadn’t immediately followed her out of the room where his daughter slept. Nor were there other guards running from all directions to tackle her. Did this mean that she really was free to leave? That she was a guest, a visitor who could go wherever she wanted and poke through her hosts’ drawers? No. She’d have to actually walk out the front door and see them all standing in a line waving goodbye before she’d believe that.

  She tried the knob of the door across the hallway. Locked. Not knowing which way led outside, it didn’t matter which way she went. Every door she came to, she tried to open. All locked. She needed one of those damn keycards. Without one of those, of course they’d let her wander. As if the hallway was so interesting, it would keep her occupied until she collapsed of boredom and begged them to start poking her with needles or something.

  They’d given her freedom to roam around a box. That wasn’t freedom. That was manipulation. A look-how-generous-we’re-being scenario while not actually giving her anything.

  When she came to a corner, she put her back against the wall and peered around carefully to check for guards. Hopefully with their backs turned and their keycards sticking out of their pockets. Sure, because that was definitely the kind of high-quality-henchmen The Clinic employed.

  “Wanna see something?” Carter was twenty feet away, limping as he took a few slow steps towards her.

  She flinched, but didn’t bother trying to hide. He’d already seen her. So spy skills weren’t in Chastity’s repertoire. Or maybe Eden just couldn’t access the knowledge. She was determined to focus on the good changes, the perks of being who she was now. Or she’d never get through this. Then later, once she was free, she’d figure out a way to get rid of Chastity.

  “How did you know I was there?” she asked, coming around the wall she’d unsuccessfully been hiding behind.

  He was pale, his blue eyes looking black next to his skin. “I heard you yelling at Fields. Then the door opened, and you stopped screaming. I figured, if he was with you, you’d still be yelling.”

  “You would’ve made a good police officer.” His dream-job, or so he’d said. She looked at the man she’d known so well. No, the man she’d thought she’d known so well. How much of who he showed her didn’t exist? How much of him was real?

  “Yeah, I would’ve,” he said sadly. “I would’ve made a good husba—” He shook his head, as if it would shake the thought out of both their minds.

  “You were drugging me, Carter. That’s hardly a great way to start a relationship.”

  “I was doing it so you would be safe. Jolie lied about a lot of things, but not that. I know all about Turner, about you. They don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Oh, Carter,” she said on a sigh. “When you don’t give someone the choice, don’t let them know who they really are…it hurts. Believe me, it hurts.”

  He stared at the ground for a long time. Enough time for her to understand something. He still believed he was doing the right thing. That what he did, what he was doing, was for her. Because, regardless of what had happened, he still loved her. And that stung. Love that wasn’t deserved, that was warped and ugly, was worse than indifference or hate.

  “Would you have taken the drug if you’d known about it?” he asked, not lifting his head.

  She pinched the bridge of her nose, wishing her headache would go away. “I don’t know. I’ll never know. But everything would’ve been different if I’d known what I am.” All that fear, paranoia, and confusion. Her chest tightened, her head only hurting more.

  Would she have met Mitch? Would Chastity have brought them together again and again until neither of them could avoid their connection? Eden would’ve missed the most amazing four days of her life, wrapped in his arms, having him inside of her. Was all of the joy Mitch had given her worth the pain and uncertainty Carter had caused? If she could go back and do it all again, knowing what she knew now, what would she have chosen?

  “Are you going to leave?” he asked quietly.

  “Yes,” she said instantly.

  “Before you know everything? Before you know how you could help the other people? That’s not the Eden I know. The Eden I know would do whatever she could to help someone else.”

  Sadly, that was probably true. Even if it killed her in the process. “Let’s get one thing straight, Carter. You don’t know me. You may think you do, but you don’t. Not now. Not ever. Or you never would have done what you did.”

  He finally looked up, his expression that of someone fighting the need to argue, wanting to explain instead. “You’re wrong. I did what I did because of you. I just wanted you to be safe. Yes, I made some mistakes. Hell, I made a lot of mistakes, but giving you the medicine wasn’t one of them. Imagine what might have happened if I hadn’t.”

  “Is this a Christmas-past kind of moment?”

  “No. Because then I’d have to show you what happens to those of you who don’t get help. And that would mean taking you to a cemetery.”

  If he hadn’t doped her, would Chastity’s behavior have put both of them underground? Maybe. But… “You don’t know that. I could’ve been fine.”

  His brows came together. “Fine? With all of Chastity’s recklessness?” He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Well, forgive me if your opinion means nothing to me.”

  He shook his head sadly. “More of you die than live, you know. Without medication, even Jekylls die young. Almost like they’re looking for it.” He was probably right—Chastity’s life choices were hardly rational behavior for someone who wanted to see tomorrow.

  But that didn’t mean someone else got to make the decision for her. “Well, thank goodness The Clinic is here to save us from ourselves.”

  “You can believe whatever you want to believe, but they are helping other people.”

  “Really?” she asked sarcastically.

  “There’s a boy here. He’s sixteen.”

  Oh God. “He’s another prisoner?” Someone else she would have to free on her way out?

  “You’re not a prisoner. He isn’t, either. He lives here and can leave whenever he wants.”

  “I want to meet him.” I want to ask him myself. She’d know if he was lying, if they were all lying.

  She walked about ten feet behind Carter, watching him. He moved like an old man, as if he’d aged fifty years since the last time they’d seen each other. Before she’d found the ‘medicine’ he’d been giving her. She’d thought it was heroin or maybe cocaine, his private stash, and had kicked him out for bringing the thing that had killed her mother into their home.

  She stopped. “My mother OD’ed. What did she OD on?” Was it heroin she was injecting? Or something The Clinic had prescribed?

  He looked over his shoulder, noticed she’d stopped, and turned. “She died from an overdose of heroin.” Then he started walking again. “Come on. He’ll want to meet you too.” He knocked on a door that looked exactly like every other door in the place. “Justin? It’s Carter. I want you to meet someone.”

  She heard s
omeone inside yell, “Hang on!”

  “Do you live here too?” she asked Carter.

  “No, I live in a shitty apartment nearby. But I’m here a lot of the time.”

  “Home sweet home, huh?”

  Before he could reply, the door opened.

  “Hey, Carter. What’s up?” The boy wasn’t wearing scrubs, and he looked so…normal. Like any other teenager one would see coming out of school. When he saw Carter, he smiled. Then it slipped slightly as his gaze turned toward her, and a blush rose on his cheeks. “Who’s she?”

  “This is Eden,” Carter said. “Can we come in for a sec?”

  Justin shrugged and then stepped back into his room. “Sure, but you should’ve told me you were going to bring a— someone.” He scrambled to clear off a chair, tossing clothing and other junk onto the desk.

  Eden felt something pull her into the room—something she couldn’t, or didn’t want to, struggle against. But on her way, she wiggled the doorknob, testing it. It wasn’t locked from the outside. And the interior lock was puny, way too weak to hold back a Hyde, even if he couldn’t figure out the absurdly simple release mechanism.

  “Where do they put him when he transforms?” she blurted. “A cage?”

  Both men flinched at her outburst. Carter shook his head, his eyes wide, while Justin looked at her like she was stupid.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Do they put you in a cage? When your Hyde comes out. Where do they put you?”

  He glanced at Carter, confused. “Why would they put me in a cage?”

  “He doesn’t know?” she asked Carter, her breath shallow. When he put a hand on Justin’s shoulder, she wanted to smack it off, feeling an immediate protective desire to keep every asshole away from him. But Justin didn’t cringe or grimace. He wasn’t afraid. In fact, the look he gave Carter was more like one of friendship, trust. The poor, deluded kid. If he only knew what she did. Not that she actually knew all that frigging much.

  “She’s never been here before,” Carter said, “so she doesn’t know how it works.”