When Darkness Hungers: A Shadow Keepers Novel (Shadow Keepers 5) (6 page)

Images of Tori’s ripped neck and emaciated body had tormented Alexis for days. She worked the case constantly. She didn’t sleep, barely ate, and the other members of the task force started to tiptoe around her, afraid of setting off a burst of temper coupled by a steel-bladed tongue. After she’d yelled at one of the interns for not pulling a fingerprint record fast enough, Gutierrez called her into his office and told her to sit her ass down.

“I’d rather stand.”

“Consider it an order, Agent.”

She sat, but on the edge of her seat. There was no relaxing for Alexis anymore. Nothing but the hard push to get it done, and the damnable frustration that came with knowing she was failing at that one simple task. Failing the task force. And most of all, failing Tori.

“There are other victims in this case, Agent. Other leads to follow that might track back to your sister’s killer. But you’re too close, Alexis. You need to back off. Focus on another file, another victim. Either that or resign from the task force altogether. Or take a leave of absence,” he amended, apparently seeing the glint of steel in her eyes.
“You’re burning yourself out, and that’s not doing anyone any good, least of all Tori.”

“She’s my sister,” she said, pouring herself into the words. “I can’t just walk away.”

“I’m not asking you to. I’m just saying that it’s time to come at this from a different angle. She’s one of ours now, the FBI’s. The task force. They’re all good agents, Alex. Solid. You know that. Back off a little. Clear your head. And then you can come back to it fresh.”

“Sir, I understand what you’re saying, but I don’t think—”

“Or you could consider a transfer.” For a moment the words hung in the air. “You could go to Los Angeles.”

At his words, her entire body went stiff.

“The task force is up and running there, too.”

“I don’t want to go back to LA.” She’d grown up there, but it had never been home. Not after Tori had left, anyway. Now it was just a place on a map. Her childhood friends had all moved away, and even Brianna lived in New York now, having gotten the part in the soap. And while Alexis liked Edgar Garvey, the LAPD’s liaison with the task force, whom she’d met when he’d done a week of training with the FBI, he was undeniably odd with his strange beliefs and wild conspiracy theories.

Most of all, though, she couldn’t move that far away from Tori.

“If LA’s out of the question, then there’s always Dallas or Chicago.”

Dear God, they were determined to get her out of there. Had she really screwed it up that bad?

Of course she had. Hell, she knew she had. The question now was how to fix it.

Play it smart, Alex. Screw up, and you’re screwing Tori
.

She tilted her head down, focusing on her hands, fingers twisted together in her lap. “You’re right about my lack of focus. I owe you—I owe the Bureau—an apology.”

“You don’t,” he said. “There’s not an agent here who wouldn’t be equally preoccupied under similar circumstances. But I need you on your game.”

“I’m not interested in a transfer, sir. I realize it’s a lot to ask, but could we take that off the table?”

He regarded her evenly for a moment, then nodded. “Take a few days, get your head straight, and come back refreshed.”

She’d promised to do just that. Of course, she’d been lying. On her days off, she spent her time doing the same thing she’d done when she’d been active: prowling the streets, searching the subways, talking to the homeless, the vagrants, the lost souls with vacant eyes and hopeless faces. Had Tori been one of them? Alexis was certain that she had, and that reality cut deep into her soul. Because despite the undercurrent of anger and worry that had surged through her ever since Tori’s disappearance, she’d always held on to hope. Hope that Tori had managed to get away. To make a real life for herself. But if this was where she’d ended up—this dark place where cruel eyes watched you and hope was something that moldered in the shadows—then what had been the point? Why had Tori left home—left
her
—if she was only going someplace worse? If she was simply stepping out into the world to meet a new kind of monster, one that wouldn’t just hurt and belittle her, but would actually kill her?

“Dammit, Alexis,
stop it
.” She pressed her fingertips to her temples and looked away from a filthy homeless woman with missing teeth who was staring at her with pity. She didn’t want the woman’s pity—didn’t need it. She was there to do a job, and it was better for everybody—herself, Tori, the task force, and all the other victims—if she could get her act together and get her head back in the game.

With renewed determination, she turned back and forced herself to look hard at the homeless woman. When she did, she could see that despite the years of dirt that had settled in her deep facial wrinkles, the woman’s eyes were still sharp. This was her domain, this small corner of a subterranean world, and she watched silently as what passed for living went on in front of her.

Alexis knelt, bringing her to eye level with the woman. “I’d like to ask you a question. Is that okay?”

Gums smacked, causing strands of spittle to sparkle in the dim light like perverse gems. “Sounds to me like you already asked.”

“Fair enough. I’ve got another.”

The woman blinked. Stared. Waiting. Alexis had the impression that was what she did the most. Waited. She pulled out the picture of Tori. The crime scene photo, because the one in her wallet showed a healthy, vibrant girl. Not a strung-out, fuchsia-haired junkie. “This girl. Do you know her?”

“Dead,” the woman said. “If you’re looking for her, you’re not gonna find her.” That wide grin. Those strands of spit. “Not unless you’re planning to follow her to hell.”

“How do you know she’s dead?”

“Got eyes, don’t I?”

Alexis’s heart pounded against her rib cage, so hard that she feared she’d crack a rib. “You saw her? You saw her killer?”

“Saw the cops find her.” The woman raised one bony finger and pointed. “Dump spot. Under some newspapers. Not that she was reading. The dead don’t read.”

“No,” Alexis said, choking out the words. “They don’t. But you read. You pay attention. You listen and watch. Can you tell me what you saw? What you learned?”

“Saw nothing. Heard nothing. Just that she was dead. That the girl was dead.” She shrugged. “Not the only one.”

“What do you mean?”

“People die, don’t they?”

They did, Alexis thought. People died, and people like her were left behind, either to mourn them or to stand up for them. Where Tori was concerned, Alexis was trying to do both. “Are you saying there were other bodies?”

“Down here? Always will be. This is where the monsters live.” Those sharp eyes narrowed, becoming almost lost in the creases of the woman’s face. “That’s what you’re looking for. A monster.”

“Damn straight. Can you help me?”

“Not me. The girl. Maybe. If you ask nice. Sugar and spice, not snails and tails.”

The sharp eyes were starting to dull; whatever dementia had brought this woman down into the subways was setting back in. “Wait,” Alexis said, clutching the woman’s wrist, then squeezing until the old lady looked her in the eye. “Who’s the girl? Where can I find her?”

“Can’t,” the woman said. “She finds you. In here.” She tapped her temple. “That’s where she lives. Squeezes
inside and looks around. Looks inside your head for the monsters. Now, go on with you. Bedtime now. Gotta tuck in Mr. Padgett.” She slipped her hand in her pocket and Alexis saw the pocket move. A rat’s pointed nose and beady black eyes emerged, staring her down and daring her to stay.

She thought about taking Mr. Padgett up on that dare, but she’d gotten as much out of the woman as she was going to get. The old lady was fading fast, cooing to her rat and swaying softly like a mother with an infant.

Alexis got the hell out of the subway, her mind on the girl. A girl who got into people’s heads. A girl who found monsters. That was a girl Alexis wanted to meet. But how the hell was she supposed to find her?

In the end, she didn’t find the girl. The girl found her.

For two days, she’d continued to canvas the subway tunnels near Battery Park. She still asked about Tori, but now she was also asking about the mysterious girl. She’d wanted to pull more information from the old woman—she’d gone so far as to bring a sandwich from a nearby deli—but the woman and her rat were gone, lost to the tunnels like so many others.

It happened at dusk on the second day. Alexis was tired. Dirty. And getting damn discouraged, too. She’d just about decided that Gutierrez was right—she needed to go home and get her head out of this. Watch mindless television. Drink wine. And try to find some semblance of a center, because her life was spiraling down into obsession. She knew that—could feel the tug of the drain spinning her round and round. But dammit, she wasn’t quite ready to give up.

For the night, though …

She’d been pushing so hard, she could feel the exhaustion in her bones. For just one night, she’d go home. Take a bath, drink some wine. Then hit it hard again in the morning.

She dragged herself up the steps, letting the flow of Friday-night revelers push her along, like flotsam in a never-ending stream. As she reached street level, she saw a woman step away from a railing. She’d been leaning
there, long blond hair fluttering in the evening breeze, the yellow lamplight giving her a fairy-princess glow. Alexis slowed, remembering. She’d seen that same woman when she’d descended the steps two hours before. She’d noticed the dress—a fifties-style sundress with a cinched waist, the kind of retro outfit that was all the rage lately. The dress was white with tiny pink dots, and the girl had paired it with pink flats, making her look both sophisticated and innocent, the kind of look that Alexis liked, but never tried because she was afraid it would make her too Marilyn Monroe, and that didn’t fit her image of a badass FBI agent.

This time it wasn’t the dress that interested Alexis; it was the girl. Why the hell was she still there two hours later? More important, why was she now walking toward Alexis, her gait uneven as she favored one leg?

“I think maybe you’re looking for me,” the girl said. “I’m Leena.” She stuck out her hand to shake, but Alexis only frowned.

“You?” She’d been searching for a girl, yes. But she’d expected someone older. Rougher around the edges. The kind of girl who prowled sewers and would be noticed by the vagrants who lived down in the dark. But Leena? She probably wasn’t more than twenty-two, and looked like she could be part of a sorority group touring New York for the day.

The girl laughed. The kind of genuine laugh that Alexis and Brianna often shared when they went out for drinks and gossip. “Not what you were expecting?”

Alexis bristled, then forced herself to relax. The girl was right—she
wasn’t
what Alexis had been expecting. But what had that been? Some mysterious, shadowy figure? Some dark girl with hollow eyes who’d tell her the
secrets of the sewers and lead her straight to her sister’s killer? All things considered, the girl in the dress was a pleasant surprise. Assuming, that is, that she could help at all.

“What makes you think I’m looking for you?”

“I watch. I pay attention. And Marion told me you were looking for me.”

Marion
. The old lady. Alexis hadn’t even asked for her name, more proof that Tori’s murder had thrown her off her game. Any other victim and she’d never have let a witness go without getting a full ID. And yet with Marion, she’d chatted the old lady up and then moved on. Maybe Gutierrez was right; maybe she needed to get the hell out of New York. Except she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. Not until she had a lead on the bastard who’d killed her sister.

She focused on Leena. “So why was I looking for you?”

Leena didn’t laugh, but her mouth curved up in amusement. “Because I know things.” She shrugged. “I don’t always tell what I know, and I don’t always get it clear in my head. But I’m legit. Hell, call the NYPD if you don’t believe me.”

“You’re a psychic.”
Shit
. Like Alexis needed that kind of bullshit.

“And you’re a skeptic. That’s okay. Give me your hand.” She stuck hers out again, then left it hanging in the air. She raised her brows, waiting for Alexis to take it. Fine. Whatever. She took Leena’s hand. She wasn’t sure what she expected—Sparks? A tingle in the air? A booming voice from the heavens? None of that, but there was something about Leena’s face. As Alexis watched, the girl seemed to lose color, then a moment
later she yanked her hand away and wiped her palm hard on the material of her dress.

“I’m sorry,” Leena said. She sounded breathless, like she’d just run sprints. “Your sister. Oh, God, your sister.”

Alexis was already falling before she realized that her knees had buckled. She grabbed for the railing, but found that Leena had a hold of her arm. “How? How did you know?” She hadn’t told anyone she was looking for her sister. Just that she was with the FBI. That she was working a case.

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have blurted it out like that.” She licked her lips. “Marion was right to tell you about me. I can help. Or, at least, I’d like to try. Can we talk?”