Fade To Midnight (35 page)

He leaned forward, peering at the screen. “What is this stuff?”

“These are Osterman's research notes from 1990 onward. He was developing a series of drugs to treat learning disabilities at the time, if I'm not mistaken.”

Kev stared at the heap of disks. This could take forever. He needed to excuse himself from this brain-sucking bullshit and go work on finding Edie's kidnappers. Sooner would be better than later.

He had to think of some way to phrase it, but any way he put it, it was going to sound rude. But fuck it. Rude wasn't fatal.

Cheung rose from her chair. “I'm going to grab a Diet Coke from the kitchen,” she said. “Care for anything? Coffee, tea, soda?”

“Nah, I'm good, thanks.”

That was when he saw the spider, crawling out of the box of disks. A tiny thing, creamy white. He leaned closer. Allatal stripes on her carapace. A silver abdominal dorsum median dark band flanked by silver commas on the abdominal venter distinguished her as an immature female
Tetragnatha laboriosa
. He let her crawl up onto his finger, lifted her up to take a better look. She should be in a forest, or at least on a shrub, out on the grounds. Not crawling around on barren beige plastic. He'd take her outside when he left.

Dr. Cheung passed behind him. The spider picked her way daintily along his forefinger. Cheung's footsteps slowed behind him. A rustling sound. His neck prickled…

Edie's spider drawing exploded into his mind. He twisted, but the needle stung his neck before the warning message could reach his limbs and launch him up out of the chair.

The icy burn spread through his core, crawling out to his limbs. Clutching at every muscle.
No.
Those sneaky fuckers. They'd morphed into newer, younger, prettier bodies, lain in wait for two decades…and gotten him. How could he have been so stupid? So complacent.

His automatic response was starting up, he could feel it already. Systems involuntarily shutting down, like a power grid going black. Into the oubliette, where they couldn't reach him—

No!
He clamped down on the reflex. He couldn't go into the oubliette. He had to stay sharp. He had so much more to lose now.

He held Edie's face in his mind, the way he'd held the angel. She kept him conscious, though his body was a rictus of burning pain.

Ava Cheung leaned down into Kev's face. “Too easy,” she complained, and she swayed forward and kissed him passionately. She stuck her tongue into his mouth. He could taste her lipstick. The sweet taste of her mouth, like saccharine. His gorge rose, but he couldn't move, couldn't speak. It was all he could do to stay conscious.

“Des told me you were ugly,” she confided, petting the scars on his cheek. “But you're not ugly. The scars don't bother me. We all have our scars.” She reached down to his crotch. Let out a croon of approval at what she found. “Substantial,” she murmured. “We are going to have a lot of fun, Kev. You can be my special pet.”

He stared into her eyes, stayed conscious by sheer, raw force of will. He used everything he had: the anger, the desperation.
Edie.
He couldn't believe he hadn't seen the madness in Cheung's eyes. It was so clear now. That glow, like a drug high. Now that he saw behind her illusion, he could hardly believe he'd ever perceived her as beautiful. She was grotesque. Her brain rewired into something terrifying and strange.

Edie.
He clung to her image. Her beautiful face, as he's seen it that morning. Pale and clean. Tears shining in her eyes. Unspeakably beautiful and pure. So real.
Edie.
He hung on to her. Darkness was closing in around him. The edges were blurring.

The Asian security guy from the desk downstairs appeared before him, blurred around the edges, but the concentrated malevolence in his face punched through Kev's perception. Amazing, that he had not sensed it before.
Lack of vigilance will get you killed.
Too late. The man crouched, so that his face was inches from Kev's. His lips curled back from his teeth. Enjoying himself. “You gave him the shot?” he asked.

“Of course,” she said. “He's good for a half an hour. Work fast.”

The guy pulled on some latex gloves, produced a little spray bottle and a chamois cloth, and began to rub down the outside of the cases Kev had brought up from Cheung's car. He took Kev's numb, stiff hands, and systematically pressed them all over the surface, paying particular attention to the handle and the locking device. He flicked the combination into place, and opened the case.

Kev's belly thudded down a couple of stories. A sniper rifle. An Arctic Warfare Super Magnum. Disassembled, packed into a case. The guy took out a Schmidt & Bender PM II telescopic scope, pressed Kev's prints all over it. Then he pressed Kev's numb fingers against a few .338 Lapua Magnum bullet casings. He disassembled the inner trigger mechanisms, pressed Kev's prints over those, too. Over the buttstock, the barrel, the bipod, the mount, the bolt, the trigger. Everywhere.

They were setting him up for something awful. Pressing his hands onto all kinds of other stuff, but he could no longer see clearly, his hands too numb to identify the objects by touch. He was fading.

Then the guy grabbed him by the shirtfront, and lifted him up. “I got a bone to pick with you, shithead,” he said. “This is payback for the night before last.” His knee slammed up into Kev's groin.

White hot pain exploded in his testicles. He pitched into the dark.

Y
ou're sure this is the address?” Liv gazed at the unprepossessing building on NE Helmut Street, the chain-link fence, all the more dingy for the drizzling rain. An overloaded Dumpster had a mattress propped up next to it. Bags of garbage were being nosed through by a knuckle-assed dog. “Charles Parrish's daughter lives in this place?”

Sean referred once again to the sheaf of printouts Davy had given him. “That's what it says here.”

“But didn't you guys say Parrish was a billionaire?”

Sean shrugged. “Apartment Four F.” He eyed her belly. “Fourth floor. I'd suggest you wait in the car, but not in this neighborhood. How about I take you back to the hotel?”

“Oh, shut up,” Liv snapped. “Come on.”

Sean stayed right behind her as they went through the gate and started to climb, matching his pace to her slow one. She was breathless by the end of the second flight, and he tried to grab her arm, to give her support, but she snatched her arm back, shooting him one of those blazing Amazon goddess looks. “Do not hover. I am
fine.
”

“I'm not hovering,” he said, hurt. “I'm being a gallant, attentive, caring, sensitive guy.”

Liv snorted eloquently.

“Would you rather have a grunting Neanderthal pig? Pick up the pace, babe, and carry this case of beer while you're at it, OK?”

“You were hovering,” she said, snippily.

“No.
This
is hovering.” He swept her into his arms, and held her while she wriggled and squawked. “Worked for Scarlett and Rhett.”

“Scarlett had a sixteen-inch waist!” Liv yelled. “Scarlett was not seven months pregnant! Put me down, before you throw your back out!”

“Sure,” he promised, striding up the stairs. “Just as soon as I get to the fourth floor. And here we are. Madame, if you please.” He set her on her feet. “Just trying to make myself useful. Earn my perks.”

“Perks? Hah! What perks? Don't even get me started!”

He grabbed her, and kissed her, putting his hands under the taut swell of her belly. “Shhh. I just want to carry this weight for you, when I can,” he crooned. “I wish I could do it all. The hard stuff, the scary stuff. I wish I could bear it all for you. But I can't. Biology is cruel.”

She was still stiff, so he pulled her closer, petting the curve of her back. “Please, don't be mad. I love you so much. I can't even stand it.”

That did the trick. The steel in her spine softened, and she bent her head to let him nuzzle her neck. He sighed. Disaster averted.

Marriage was complicated. The emotional equivalent of a game of pro basketball. Lots of sweat, lots of effort. But when he sank that ball into the hoop, oh, man. The payoff was so sweet. He lived for that.

Sean paused to stare at the scarred, flimsy looking door of Apartment 4F for a moment, and reached out to knock.

The door yielded to the pressure of his knuckles, and drifted open with a creaking sigh more suited to a gothic mansion. Sean shoved Liv behind him, and peered into the room. It had been destroyed.

“This place has been tossed,” he said. “Wait one moment. I'll make sure no one's home.”

“Sean!” she hissed fiercely. She grabbed at the back of his jacket, but he slipped through her fingers, already inside.

It looked like someone had torn the dingy little apartment apart in a killing rage. He peered into the bathroom, scattered with broken glass and crockery, mirror shattered, shower curtain slashed. In the living room, furniture had been overturned, the place was littered with paper. Red paint was sprayed over the walls, which were covered with pictures, photos, sketches. It formed a word, he realized, in bleeding, dripping letters. FREAK. He tugged Liv inside. “No one's here,” he said.

Liv made a distressed sound in the back of her throat as she stared around at the wrecked room. “Do you think she was hurt?”

He stared at the dripping scrawl. “They wouldn't write insults on the wall if she was there for them to deliver them in person,” he said. “I hope, anyway. We must be the first ones to see this. No crime scene tape. Door not locked. She hasn't been home since it happened.”

Liv looked pained. “She's in for a shock. We should call the cops.”

“In a minute. Let me look around. I won't touch anything.”

Liv made an exasperated sound. He tiptoed around the wreckage, peering at the scraps of paper tacked to the wall. The chill that fluttered over the surface of his skin was just like the chill breeze that swept in, fluttering all the scraps of paper attached to the wall.

Kev was everywhere in those sketches. One in three, maybe more. Portraits, line sketches, studies. Fully developed action scenes from the graphic novel, complete with dialog balloons. But it was his brother. He'd bet his life on it. “This woman is obsessed with Kev,” he said.

“Maybe she's simply in love with him,” Liv said with a haughty sniff. “It's a fine line, when you're dealing with McCloud guys.”

Sean evaluated that remark, and concluded that it was a trap. He kept his big mouth shut, so as not to risk a tempest of pregnancy hormones. They blew up with no warning, downing trees, knocking out communication lines. He hated that. The marital disaster area. He unleashed it often. It was his special talent.

The door was slapped open. He leaped to get in front of Liv.

“Edie! You're back!” A kid burst in, a huge grin on his skinny brown face. The smile blanked out when he saw them, and the apartment. He spun, took off like a bolt from a crossbow.

Sean caught the kid's thin, trembling arm before he cleared the door. “Stop,” he said. “You know Edie?”

“Who the fuck are you, man?” The kid struggled with desperate strength, kicking savagely at Sean's shins. “Let me go!”

Sean blocked an admirably quick uppercut, wrenching the kid into a clinch under his arm. “Calm down. Just a couple of questions.”

“Fuck you!” The kid flopped, kicked, squawked.

Liv looked horrified. “Jesus, Sean! Let him be!”

“You fuckers hurt Edie!” the kid shrieked. “You messed up her place! I'll kill you. Fucking bastards!”

“No, that wasn't us,” Sean said. “But we're going to find out the guys who did it. And you can help us do that.”

The kid twisted around to peer up into Sean's face. He went limp in Sean's grasp. His jaw sagged. His eyes popped. Sean knew that look. Excitement surged inside him. He clamped a careful lid on it. “What?” he demanded. “Do I look like somebody you know?”

“F-f-f-fade,” the kid stammered. “Holy shit. You look exactly like Fade! Except you don't have the scars!”

Disappointment sank the swelling excitement. Of course. The fucking comic book. Who could blame the kid. “You mean, the character in the Shadowseeker book series? I look like him?”

“No, I mean the real guy! I met him the other day. He came home with Edie! I think they had sex.” He frowned, disapproving. “Gross. And she was mad at me about saying that Fade was real, 'cause people see Fade all the time! He gave money to the runaway shelter, and the homeless shelter, and the soup kitchen!”

“You saw him?” Sean interruped the kid's babbling. “You saw a real guy who looks like me, except with scars? Not a guy in a story?”

“Yeah! I told Edie he was real! And she gave me all kinds of shit about it, but see? I was right.” He scowled. “But she didn't have to have sex with him. That was gross. Hey, could you stop squeezing my neck?”

“If I let go, you won't hit me, or run, right? We can just talk?”

“Sure,” the kid said. “So you know Fade?”

The sadness that swept over him was huge. Sean set the kid down. “Yeah, I know him,” he said heavily. “He's my brother.”

“Sean!” Liv's tone was nervous. “You can't know that, not until we meet him and talk to him!”

“I know.” He let the weight of his words cut off her lecture. He watched it play across her expressive face. First the argument, just because she was Liv, opinionated and bossy and protective. Then guilt, as she remembered her big fat crusade to validate his instincts. Then stern self-control kicked in, when she wisely decided to shut up and let him do his thing in his own weird way.

God, he loved that woman. And he was such a trial to her. He resolved for the millionth time to be good. Not so hyper, so oversexed, such a relentless smart-ass. A guy could only try to fight his nature.

He held out his hand. “My name's Sean. That lady's my wife, Liv.”

She gave the kid a smile. The boy smiled shyly back, eyes darting to her rounded belly. “That's our kid, inside Liv. And your name is?”

“Jamal.” The boy shook Sean's hand, gingerly.

“You're Edie's friend?” Liv asked.

“Yeah. Edie's cool. She lets me use her computer. And sleep on her couch. She makes great scrambled eggs, but she always burns the hamburgers. She's not much of a cook. But she's still nice.”

“She sounds nice,” Liv murmured. “Points for Edie.”

“This guy who looks like me, did you talk to him?”

“A little,” Jamal said. “I told him he looked like Fade, and Edie got mad, said Fade didn't exist again.” Jamal looked rebellious. “But he was right there! I mean, shit! Who's she trying to kid?”

“Did he say his name?” Liv asked gently.

Jamal pondered that. “Uh, yeah. I think she called him Kev.”

That felled him. Convinced though he'd been, his belly hit the ground, and kept on going. Down, and farther down. Liv covered her mouth with her hands. Her face was bone white.

Son of a bitch. So he called himself Kev. He still used his own goddamn name. So he still knew who he was. Where he came from.

Did he ever think about his brothers? It would seem that he did not. Had he ever wondered how much his brothers had thought about him? Had it ever crossed his fucking pea brain? Now and again?

This was bad. Being angry and hurt at Kev was even worse than missing him, grieving his death. Being furious and vengeful.

And to think he'd thought he was hip to every kind of pain this could inflict upon him. There were always brand new depths to sink to. Fresh new agony buttons to push. He let a slow breath hiss out through his teeth, and forced his voice flatness. “Did he mention a surname?”

Jamal had sensed the weird pain vibe. His eyes were big. He shook his head, edged closer to the door.

“Or where he lives?” He tried to soften the drill sergeant tone, but it was involuntary. Dour old Eamon, speaking through him.

Another nervous, scared head shake from Jamal. Great. A lead that led nowhere, except for the mental ward.

“Jamal,” Liv asked gently. “Do you know any other people who might know this man Kev?”

“You mean, besides Edie?”

She gave him an approving smile. “Right! Since Edie isn't here right now, and since we don't know where she is. Anybody else?”

Jamal considered it. “Well, Valerie met him, but she's in jail right now. Fade punched out this asshole john for her. The dickhead stiffs her, and starts hitting her! Fade kicked the living shit out of the guy.” Jamal mimed kicks and punches. “Ka-pow, whack! Fucking asshole.”

“How awful for poor Valerie,” Liv said gently. “Anyone else?”

Jamal's face lit up. “Maybe the people at Any Port would know! It's the shelter down on Stark Street. He gave them lots of money. They might know. That's where he took Valerie, 'cause she needed stitches.”

Sean and Liv looked at each other. “Where's this place?” he asked.

“I'll take you there,” Jamal offered eagerly.

They closed the door of Edie Parrish's ravaged apartment, and followed the scampering Jamal down the stairs. Sean unlocked the car, and watched, bemused, as Jamal clambered into the backseat, chattering about live superheroes kicking the shit out of bad guys. Sean slid into the driver's seat. Liv got in. They looked at each other.

“Uh, Jamal?” he said. “You sure you want to climb into a car with strangers? It's not really a smart thing to do. You know that, right?”

“You guys aren't strangers! You're Fade's brother!”

“Could you run up and ask your mom?” Liv asked gently. “If I were her, I'd want you to ask. I'd want to know where you were.”

“She doesn't care.” Jamal's smile faded to a sullen mask. “She's asleep. She works nights.”

“Ah.” Sean drummed his fingers on the steering column. “All right, then. How about your dad?”

Jamal rolled his eyes, and yanked the door shut. “Get real.”

Sean sighed. “Put on the seat belt, then. And swear to me, on the souls of all the greatest superheroes of all time, that you will never, ever climb into a car with a stranger again. Ever. Got that? Promise?”

“Sure, no problem,” Jamal promised.

Jamal's breezy tone sparked a lecture from the two of them about stranger danger that lasted the whole short ride, leaving the kid sulky and defensive. His good spirits rebounded promptly when they got to the brickfront building with a rainbow painted sign.

Jamal bounced up the stairs and rang. “Yo, Tracee!” he yelled into the intercom. “It's Jamal! Some people need to talk to Dorothea!”

They were buzzed in, and followed Jamal up a narrow staircase and down a hall lined with small offices. A door at the end of the corridor opened, and a middle-aged woman with bushy salt-and-pepper hair leaned out, examining them as they approached. Jamal ran to her and gave her a hug. She touseled his hair as she studied them, her eyes flicking to Liv's belly. “What brings you folks here? You don't look like you need emergency shelter.”

“No.” Sean offered her his hand. “We're looking for information.”

“He's looking for Fade Shadowseeker!” Jamal broke in, his voice shrill with excitement. “He's Fade's brother!”