A Perfect Darkness (6 page)

Petra's hopeful expression sagged. “But—”

He pointed at Amy. “This is why we can't get emotionally involved. It makes people do crazy things. Stupid things. We agreed not to approach Amy or Bill, and Lucas broke the rules. He's on his own.”

“But he broke the rules to
warn
me,” Amy said.

“So? He took the risk; why should I put my ass on the line to save him?”

Petra said, “Eric, you can't—”

“I can. We don't even know what we're up against yet.”

“He's our family,” Petra said. At Amy's questioning look, she explained, “We grew up together, after Lucas's mother died. Our dad sort of adopted him.” She turned to Eric. “He's like a brother to you. We can't—”

“Drop it. He's the one who had to go to his precious girlfriend here. He didn't think of us when he did that.”

Amy saw that Petra was about to say something before she drooped in defeat. Her pain over Lucas was apparent. Eric was obviously a formidable force to go
up against. If Petra, who knew and was trusted by him, couldn't sway him, how could she?

To hell with that, she thought, and got up into his face, or as close as she could get on tiptoes. “Lucas is alive, dammit, and if we don't do something, he won't be for much longer. They're injecting him with something—drugs, he wasn't sure. He kept flickering in and out.” Emotion rose into her voice. “We're the only ones who can save him. I don't care if you don't trust me or if you don't like me. There's no way in hell we can abandon him while they do God-knows-what to him until he dies!” The music had stopped before she screamed the last line.

Through the applause Petra said, “She's right. We're family, Eric. We don't abandon family.”

His expression grew dark. “He abandoned us, remember?”

“He didn't leave us to die. He left because of you. I know at least that much. If we find Lucas, we can find the truth about what we are. If you want nothing else, you want that.”

He faced them, his body stiff with stubborn anger. Amy didn't back down. She flicked her gaze to Petra and saw that she didn't either. However, Petra did give away her anxiety by cracking her knuckles.

Seconds passed. Music pounded the air. Eric's gaze was as hard as his body as he shifted it to Amy and then Petra. The wind kicked up, flapping the fabric and shaking the metal frames holding it. Their eyes never left each other's.

Then Eric ducked his head and ran his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, yeah. We'll get him.” He looked at Petra. “I'll start working on it.” To Amy, he
said, “Thanks for the info. Act like you belong here so the spooks or whoever they are think you came for fun.” He seemed to appraise her. “You could pass for a lesbian.”

She wanted to deck him, but he started to turn away. She grabbed his arm. “Wait a minute. You're not leaving me out of this.”

He looked at her hand on his arm and then at her. After she pulled her hand away, he said, “This is our business.”

“It's mine, too. According to Lucas, I'm one of you. An Offspring.”

Eric said, “Involving you is problematic.”

“Because of Cyrus? I told you—”

“If
what you're telling us is true, you're still too closely tied to him. He knows your habits, your weaknesses. That makes you a liability. We'll take care of this on our own, but thank you for your interest.”

You've been excused,
a voice whispered.
You can go back to your cocoon of a life. Leave saving Lucas to them.

No! Instinctively she knew that together they could save him. That was more important than her safe little world. “You need me. I can communicate with Lucas. And…I need you.” How she hated the plaintive sound of those last words.

Eric seemed to consider while the band on the other side of the stage butchered Janis Joplin's “Me and Bobby McGee.” Then he said, “You have to prove yourself. Trusting the wrong person can be dangerous for us. Look what happened to Lucas.”

Yeah, that stung, deepening her sense of guilt over causing his capture. “It wasn't as though I turned him
in. Fine, what do I do? Swallow a goldfish? Walk over coals?”

He crinkled his eyes at her sarcasm. “Something useful. Get on Cyrus's computer and get more Offspring names. At least if he catches you, he won't kill you. Probably.”

God, the thought of that, that Cyrus would kill anyone…She didn't know that side of him, because he never talked about his work. “You think the CIA is behind this?” She didn't want to think that.

“Since Cyrus is involved and he's CIA, yes.”

“All right. So how do I know when he's logged on?”

“I'll let you know. The tricky part will be getting you out of there without your spy coming along.”

“I could take laundry down to the little building that's at the rear of the complex.”

“That should work. I'll call you and say, ‘Paul, blah blah whatever, and you'll play it off like it's a wrong number. Pay close attention because what I tell you is going to indicate what kind of car I managed to get for you. I'll park it behind the laundry building and put the key under the visor, but you'll have to be sneaky about getting to it.”

She wasn't going to ask how he would be getting the car. “I'll be sneaky.”

“And fast. You've got to get to Cyrus's place pronto. System security will probably log him off if he's inactive for long. Or he may log off when he's done. I'll come up with a way to distract him.”

Petra said, “If he's at the main page, it'll look like a Web site. Click on the link for ‘DARK MATTER.' At the left of that page there's a list of names with hyperlinks. Have you ever been to MySpace?”

Amy nodded. She'd checked it out and had even flirted with the idea of putting up a profile.

Petra said, “When you click on the links, the pages will look sort of like that. A picture, basic information like addresses, and then more links.”

Eric said, “Write down as many names and addresses as you can.”

“Is this how you found me? And Bill?”

Instead of answering, Eric said, “I'll be in touch afterward.”

“You know, I've answered every question you've asked, but you've answered exactly none of mine.”

“Give me your cell number,” he said, not even bothering to respond. He glanced around, something he'd done every few seconds.

With an aggravated sigh, she wrote it down on the paper Petra gave her. As distrustful as she considered herself, it was oddly refreshing—as well as annoying—to meet someone even more so.

Eric leaned down into her face, wearing a pleasant expression. “Don't screw with us.”

She knew it was more than just a warning.

The song the band had been playing ended, and the crowd exploded in applause. “Time to go,” he said, then he and Petra split up and merged into the flow of people.

Amy slipped out of the wig and robe and stuffed them behind the fabric sheets. She walked around the bandstand and mingled with the crowd. A man on stage talked about the joy of living in the freedom of being who they wanted to be, and everyone cheered. She clapped as she scanned the crowd for anyone who looked out of place. For Cyrus. She thought she'd rec
ognize him anywhere, but remembered the guy who'd been driving that white car. Maybe not.

With a false smile on her face, she wound her way around the edge of the crowd. Her heart tripped when she saw the man wearing dress pants and a white work shirt. He'd unbuttoned the top few buttons and rolled up the sleeves, but he was way out of his element. For one thing, he screamed heterosexual, his distaste at being there etched on his face. For another, he was looking at her when she'd swung her gaze in his direction, then quickly looked away.

Though she wanted to march up and question him, she knew the response she'd get—much like the locksmith. So she meandered to the car, trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling of being followed. From the corner of her eye she saw him trailing off to the side.

A shot rang out then, and she slapped her hand to her chest. The crowd behind her gasped. He'd shot her! Her knees wobbled. More shots cracked. She was going to die!

But wait. Shouldn't a bullet hurt? She felt no pain. She jerked around to see the sky lit up with fireworks.

“I'm not cut out for this,” she muttered to herself, regaining her breath. The man surreptitiously watching had paused, too, as though enjoying the display in the sky.

Jerk! Anger at him dogging her engulfed Amy. Without letting herself think about it, she stalked over. He didn't see her until she was a few feet away. To his credit, he gave her an innocuous smile.

She returned the smile. “How about I follow you for a while?”

“Excuse me?”

He was good, just good enough to make her doubt herself. Still, she said, “It's only fair.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

She kept up her smile. Waited. With a get-me-away-from-this-weirdo look on his face, he walked away. She followed him to his bland car, catching his eye whenever he glanced back at her. He maintained a convincing worried-curious expression.

She waited until he pulled away, and for the first time felt as though she'd gained some of her power back.

Enjoy it,
she told herself.
It might be the last time you feel this way for a while.

J
ust as Amy reached the base of the stairs leading to her apartment, she stopped cold. Cyrus sat at the top.

“It's not a good time,” she said, dragging herself up the steps.

“I can't wait for a good time.” He looked just as weary as she felt—and resolute.

She nodded, too tired to argue. She didn't even begin to hope he would tell her the truth about any of this.

He followed her inside, and she closed the door and leaned against it.

“Sit, please,” he said, nodding toward the Grape.

This was going to be bad.

She walked in and draped the orange blanket Orn'ry had become attached to over the cage. “Uh-oh,” he said in his small voice, which would have been comical in other circumstances.

Cyrus gave her those moments when he was clearly agitated. He'd always been patient. Or maybe controlled. Though he masked his glow colors, she could see a jagged shadow all around his head.

Robotically, she walked over to where he stood. “I'm not sitting.”

“Amy, you don't know what you're into here.”

“You're right. Tell me.”

Oddly, he got a wistful look on his face. “When you were a girl, you were scared of things you didn't understand. Remember when I took you to Disney World, how you wouldn't go into the Haunted Mansion?”

“I'm not a little girl anymore.”

“I know.” He said that on a sigh. “This is something you should be afraid of.”

“Are there spooks?” she said, taunting him with a reference to the CIA.

“More than that,” he replied, not taking the bait. “You need to trust me. Tell me what you know.”

“Tell me what you know.” She remembered the listening devices and went to the stereo. “Wait a minute.” A few seconds later Green Day's lead singer belted out “American Idiot.” She returned to stand in front of Cyrus. “Okay, we can talk now.”

“Amy…” He closed his eyes and rubbed them hard with his thumb and forefinger. “You don't have to live this way, sneaking around, going to gay festivals, for God's sake.”

“You've been following me.”

“For your own good. I don't know what you think is going on, what Eric and Petra Aruda told you, but this has nothing to do with you.”

“Then tell me what it does have to do with, Cyrus. Let me decide. You want honesty, well, you go first.” She'd learned that much from dealing with Eric and Petra.

She saw his frustration, even without seeing his glow. “All I can say is that you're in dangerous territory and you have to back off.” He gestured toward her office. “Go back to being your little hermit self saving hard drives and sanity. Forget this.”

The second person to tell her that. Of course, that would be the sane and undoubtedly safe thing to do. There was one hitch in that escape hatch: Lucas.

“Not until I see Lucas…Lucas
Vanderwyck.
” She aimed an accusatory look at him.

“I didn't want you digging.” A puzzled expression crossed his face. “Why do I get the impression that you care about him? The guy broke into your apartment. I'm having a hard time understanding why he matters so much to you.”

“I would have an even harder time explaining it—” She felt a catch in her throat. “But I need to see him.”

“I told you, he died here.”

“No, he didn't. He's alive, and they're doing something to him, they're
hurting him
! I want him released, and I can't let this go until that happens.”

“Eric and Petra told you that, didn't they? They're lying.”

“They didn't tell me.” Emotion strained her voice. “Don't ask me how I know, I just do!”

He blew out a breath. “Amy, you can't save him. I don't know what they're doing to him, but neither one of us can save him. If he is still alive, he's going to die, and you're going to have to let him go.”

“No!”
she screamed, feeling the pain and anger at those words rip through her.

He clamped his big hands on her shoulders. “You can't save him, but you can save yourself.
Let this go.
”

Her voice was a hoarse whisper: “Did my dad kill himself?”

“Yes.”

“Cyrus, do you know why he died?”

For just a glimmer, she saw something she'd never seen before—Cyrus's glow. Yellow, sadness, regret. Then it disappeared.

“No,” he said, as convincingly as he'd told her about Lucas Brown, serial killer. He squeezed her shoulders so tight they hurt. “I'm sorry you got involved in this, Amy. I'm sorry you can't trust me enough to tell me what's going on. I'm trying to protect you, but I can't if you keep digging. This is way beyond anything you can handle, emotionally or physically. You may not trust me, but you can't trust the Arudas either. That leaves you alone and more vulnerable than you were the day you were orphaned. If you drop this now, things can go back to the way they were. Maybe not between us,” he added at her hard look. “But you'll still have your life.”

She was seeing him as a man she'd never known. This was his CIA persona, and maybe this was how he really was. He'd thrown that barb about her days after her dad's death to break her down. It hit its mark but didn't weaken her. No matter what, she didn't have Cyrus anymore. But she wasn't alone, not as long as Lucas was alive.

“Am I an Offspring?” she asked.

“If I said no, would you believe me?”

She shook her head.

“Then why bother to ask?” He sounded weary.

“I was hoping you'd tell me what it meant.”

“I know you, Amy. You're dedicated. And even
though you try not to, you care too much. Maybe that's what's driving you. But Lucas isn't some cute, abandoned animal. No matter what he told you, he's dangerous. And your dad, he just lost his mind, nothing more.”

He walked to the door, but before he opened it he turned to her. “I can't answer your questions. All I can do is beg you to go back to your life before Lucas Vanderwyck broke in. This is your last chance.”

Her pulse throbbed at her temple as she met his gaze. Maybe he was trying to protect her in some way. Maybe she should take his advice. She said nothing. With a dip of his head he opened the door and left.

She locked the door behind him. She could never go back to her life before Lucas. Maybe her father hadn't abandoned her out of a lack of love. She might be something called an Offspring. They were up against a big bad government agency that would do everything within its power to squash them. And a gorgeous, mysterious man cared enough about her to put his life on the line to protect her. She could only do the same.

Cyrus's words, though, came back to haunt her:
He's going to die, and you're going to have to let him go.
Grief and helpless frustration swamped her. She might have Lucas in her dreams, for now, but what if she couldn't save him? Worse, he didn't want to be saved, not at the risk of her life or that of his friends' lives.

For a few minutes she didn't have to be strong. She stumbled to the couch, curled up around her bunny, and let the pain engulf her. In the throes of it, though,
she felt something stealing through her. Comfort. She knew this feeling; every time she'd felt despair, it filled her with peace.

“Dad?” she whispered. She had always believed it was him, comforting her from beyond. She'd heard stories, and hell, she just wanted to believe he hadn't abandoned her after all. She sank into the comfort and then, a few minutes later, into sleep.

 

In the dream, she walked down a pathway in a deep green forest. The sound of a waterfall roared in the distance. She knew the feel of this dream, and she anxiously searched for him. Lucas always brought some beautiful place with him, and here he had chosen a spot that spoke to her soul. But where was he?

She saw him up ahead, his hands draped above him on a branch, his body relaxed but eyes sparking with desire. All these months she couldn't see his face, and now she saw all of him: his strong jawline, captivating eyes, and waves of dark hair. He wore a button-down blue shirt that was open to reveal a sculpted chest, and old and comfortable blue jeans tight enough to show muscular thighs. Her heart raced as she came to a momentary stop, taking him in. His mouth quirked in a subtle smile as he released the branch.

As though something broke loose inside her, she ran to him. Her body slammed into his and her hands went to his face, and then up into his hair, and their mouths collided. His hands moved over her, as though he couldn't get enough of her. They moved in circles, getting dizzy and devouring each other.

“Lucas,” she said on a breath, just wanting to lose
herself in the fact that he was real and here with her, loving her.

Framing her face with his hands, he looked at her as though etching every feature into his memory. “God, it's good to see you. Are you all right?”

She kissed him again, not wanting to get into everything, not
able
to get into so much of it. None of that mattered right then. She wanted him, to touch her, inside of her.

When they took a breath, she said, “Why did you hide your face from me all these months?”

“Just in case we ever happened to run into each other. Wouldn't that have freaked you out?”

“Yes,” she admitted. “But I would have gotten over it. And then—”

“No, it had to stay just like it was.”

“Why?”

His fingers massaged her scalp, sending pleasurable sensations through her body. “It's just better this way.”

Words begging him to tell her where he was threatened to pour out, but he kissed her and stole them away. Still, she had to know…

“Lucas, are you all right? Are they still—”

“I don't want to talk about what's going on here. I want to get lost in you while I can.”

He began to kiss her again, but she pulled back. “While you can? What does that mean?”

He closed his eyes, obviously regretting those words. “We won't ever be together, love,” he said, warming her heart with his endearment and crushing it with the words preceding it. “Except for here, for now. Maybe I'm selfish for wanting you when I can't give myself to you—”

“No, Lucas, don't even say that. I'm the selfish one, because I want to save you so you'll be mine, so we—”

He kissed those words away, too, and she tasted sorrow and regret. He pulled away to look at her. “I want you, but when I'm gone, when I don't come anymore, I want you to forget me.”

She couldn't pretend to agree with that. “What about Eric and Petra? Can't you give me some clue to give to them?”

“I don't want them hurt either. This is my problem.”

She wasn't going to mention that Eric had said the same thing.

He held her chin, making her look into his eyes. “You promised you wouldn't get involved with all this. You're not, right?”

How well could she lie in her dreams? “I promise. But—”

He put his finger over her mouth. “No buts.” He pulled her close and she heard his soft sigh. “I'm sorry about Cyrus. I'm sorry you have to feel this pain.”

She pulled back. “Why did you say that?”

He gave her that provocative Mona Lisa smile. “Remember when I told you we weren't strangers?”

“How could I forget? But that's because we've…well, the dreams. Right?”

“It started long before the dreams; I only recently figured out how to come to you.” He searched her eyes. “I've been connected to you since we were kids. Our souls bonded when we were all together. After you moved away, I started getting glimpses of this little girl. For a while they were just quick flashes, and I always felt some emotion. Like when you found your father. I was there, in a way.”

“You were there?”

“I could feel what you were feeling and I saw what you saw.” He brushed her hair back from her face. “I realized your emotions pulled me to you. Whenever you were really upset or really happy. Just a while ago I felt your sadness and frustration. I'm sorry if I had anything to do with that.”

“It's been you all these years?” Not her father, but Lucas. Always there, her protector. She felt tears forming in her eyes. “And I'm supposed to just forget you?”

He wiped away a tear that escaped down her cheek. “I won't come if it's going to cause you pain.”

“No, don't stop coming. I'll be sad, of course, but”—she forced a smile—“I'll survive. I always do.”

A dirty lie, but she'd already gotten away with one.

“You're sure?”

She nodded, unable to say the word. Then she pulled him down for another kiss. She loved the way his mouth felt against hers, the way his tongue wandered through her mouth and his body moved against hers. She pushed back his shirt, and he shrugged out of it. Her hands explored him, feeling his smooth skin and the muscles beneath, the ridges of his taut stomach, every inch of him.

He pulled up her top, and the forest spun around her, leaving them next to the stream and standing on a blanket. Just as suddenly, she was naked. He was the master of the dream, and she the willing slave. It wasn't hard to be willing with his mouth trailing down her skin, his tongue tracing a wet line around the swell of her breast and then her nipple, and when she couldn't contain the pressure growing between
her legs, he gave her other breast the same loving attention. She was about to melt when he slid down to his knees and tickled her belly button with a flick of his tongue.

Thank goodness in dreams she didn't have to worry about belly button lint, she thought before he went lower. His mouth nuzzled that pleasurable place over her pubic bone, and then as her fingers kneaded his hair while her head was thrown back and eyes closed, she was suddenly lying down and he was exploring her folds with his tongue and making her toes flex so hard her joints cracked.