Who Knows the Dark (22 page)

An itch of remembrance shaded the voice from mechanical and crackled to a memory….

“Oh my God,” Cade murmured, but Rachel seemed to be one step ahead.

“Son of a bitch,” she spat. Cade was already on his feet, pulling her with him as he all but ran to the doorway.

A bright beam filled the room; Cade, Rachel and LJ covered their eyes, straining under the intrusive light. Cade blinked, lifting his hand to block out the worst of it. His eyes watered as a figure walked through the brightness and into their midst.

“Hello, my friends.”

Alec.

F
EDS
IN
flak jackets led them down the stairs to the front of the school, where a trio of SUVs waited, lights flashing, and more men with guns circled.

“Did you find him?” Alec called out, leading the way.

“No,” someone called back.

Alec paused and turned to Cade, who tried to keep his face neutral—all the joy at seeing his friend alive turned to distrust as soon as he realized the truth.

“Where is he?”

“Who?” Cade asked, batting his eyelashes.

“Cade, please. I’m not joking around here.” Fun Alec, sarcastic Alec—none of them were here now. The serious expression and shoulder holster over his Kevlar took all illusion away.

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

Alec stepped closer, nearly nose to nose with Cade, brows knit together. “You better hope I find him before they do,” he whispered.

“What?”

Alec didn’t answer. He pivoted on his heel and disappeared into the morass of cars and lights and chaos. Behind Alec, agents pushed LJ and Rachel toward the open doors of one of the SUVs.

Another agent put his hand on Cade’s back, guiding him toward a second vehicle. A moment before Cade ducked in, he heard another shout.

“We found blood!”

Struggling against the man behind him, Cade tried to break away. “Alec! Alec—what’s going on?”

No one answered, and the agents overpowered Cade, shoved him in, and slammed the door behind him.

T
HE
HOUSE
seemed entirely out of place in the rough landscape—a charming Victorian perched alone on the corner of a street high on the cliff overlooking the city.

Cade, who’d spent the entire ride shouting obscenities at the agents, nearly fell out in his anxiousness to find Alec.

“What blood?” he yelled, as soon as he saw Alec across the yard. “What did you find?”

“Enough,” Alec snapped, striding over to grab his arm. “Stop shouting and get inside.”

In all there were eleven agents for the three of them, all heavily armed and serious as death. LJ kept Rachel at his side, glaring at anyone who came near her. They weren’t handcuffed, and Cade took that as a good sign.

The furnishings were sparse. Alec called out some orders—set up a patrol, get communications up, put LJ and Rachel upstairs—and then turned his attention to Cade.

“We need to talk.”

“You need to tell me what blood. Did you find him? Is he all right?” Cade resisted the urge to run out the door, take his chances that Alec wouldn’t shoot him in the back.

“We didn’t find him, or a body. But there was blood in the stairwell. And no trail, so we’re thinking they drove off.”

Cade’s throat closed in fear. “They?”

“Sit down, okay?”

On a dusty Queen Anne sofa they sat, strangers wearing familiar faces. Cade shook with fear as Alec—not dead but very much a lie—faced him.

“Before I get all official on you, Cade, I wanted to tell you how glad I am to see you.” The charming smile Cade knew so well made a reappearance. “When I got pulled out, there wasn’t time to get you a message, and I’ve done what I could to help you.”

Cade shook his head. “I don’t understand. I really don’t. You were a… a fed? This whole time? They let you do….” His voice trailed off.

“Yeah, well, not many people volunteered for that sort of deep cover. Except me.” Alec winked at him. “I was there to collect information, to observe, to try and find the connection to the source of Dead Bolt.”

“So they pulled you right before you could find out? They killed Zed! They blew up the Butterfly and killed God knows how many people!” Cade’s anger flared again.

“My cover was compromised.”

“They killed our friends, Alec. Our customers. Innocent people just trying to make a living vacuuming up the fucking place and they’re dead!”

“Cade, please. It wasn’t my choice. I went to my apartment and had a bag thrown over my head.” He laughed mirthlessly. “I’m lucky I was able to get that kid out of the police station.”

“You got my messages?”

Alec reached over and laid a gentle hand on Cade’s knee. “All of them. I hated how worried you were, and I really wanted to get you a message.”

The intimacy of the moment soothed Cade—before he realized it was a lie.

He jerked back. “How did you know we were at the school?”

The serious façade fell back over Alec’s expression. “We’ve been tracking you since you left the island. The captain put a transmitter in your bag.”

Cade barked out a laugh. “You were our fucking guardian angels. Except for the guy who tried to kill us on the boat.”

“Mr. Wick wasn’t one of ours. We’re not sure who he was working for exactly.” Alec flicked some invisible lint off his pants. “But we’ve kept an eye on you.”

“Damian?” The transmitter at the house suddenly made sense. “I never made him for a fed.”

Alec gave him a strange look. “Damian definitely never worked for us.”

The mention of him seemed to halt the conversation; Alec stood up, then gestured toward the staircase.

“Why don’t you join your brother and Rachel upstairs?”

“That’s it?” Cade didn’t move. “That’s all you’re telling me?”

“I’ve given you all the information I’m authorized to share.” Alec put his hands in his pockets. “In the morning we’ll be escorting you to the airport and getting you to Chicago.”

“Chicago? What the hell are you talking about?” Cade grabbed at Alec’s elbow as he tried to walk away. “Where’s Nox?”

Alec’s expression flickered from cool to nervous for a split second. He ignored Cade’s expression entirely. “You’re federal witnesses now. In the morning you’ll be in Chicago.”

C
ADE
, R
ACHEL
,
and LJ sat in a tiny clump on one of the double beds, heads together as they whispered.

Cade shared the little Alec had told him, with Rachel swearing furiously the entire time.

“A fucking fed,” she muttered, as LJ petted her hand.

“I’m not going to Chicago,” Cade whispered. “I have to find Nox.”

LJ and Rachel shared a look; Rachel bit her lip, then nodded.

“We’re sticking together,” LJ said. “You’re not going anywhere without us.”

In the end, it wasn’t difficult to come up with a plan.

A wild thunderstorm rolled through, shaking the ramshackle house with torrents of rain and wind. Alec sent them sandwiches and drinks, two of his agents standing watch at the door.

“Can I see Alec, please?” Cade asked, all docile and polite as he stood in the open doorway.

An agent—who he was fairly certain never said a single word—gestured toward the stairs.

“Alec?” Cade said, looking down over the railing to where Alec, still neat in his suit jacket, watched him warily from the foyer.

“Are you going to be honest with me?” Alec asked.

“Are you going to afford me the same courtesy?”

Alec’s grin was familiar. “I’m sorry. My job prevented me from telling you certain things.”

“I spent a long time being really worried about your sorry ass,” Cade said lightly. “And here you are, some sort of special asshole with a badge. Commanding pretty boys in nice suits to make sure I don’t leave.”

“You’re a material witness,” Alec apologized. “You all are.”

“He’s out there alone, and you’re not looking for him.”

“Cade….”

“Why aren’t you looking for him, Alec? He didn’t do anything wrong. He’s on your side, okay?”

“He’s not my problem right now. You are.” With a regretful look, Alec turned and walked out of sight.

Just outside the bedroom, Cade paused. The rain pattered down on the roof, wind whistling through the cracks; the twin sentries gave him a once-over nod before the one on the left opened the door.

As he stepped through the doorway, the screaming began.

Rachel had the lungs of an opera singer; she shrieked, furious at LJ, throwing everything not nailed down at Cade’s brother. He ducked and dodged, calling her “baby” with the convincing air of a man who’d said exactly the wrong thing.

“Hey, hey,” Cade called out, walking between them to break up the mock fight.

“Shut her up,” one of the agents snapped.

Rachel flung a lamp in his direction.

The man pushed past Cade, heading for Rachel with a determined air and zero fear; his partner smirked in the doorway, observing the scene with amusement.

The man who put his hands on Rachel clearly never anticipated the tiny woman’s move—she kicked him so hard in the balls he went down like a sack of rocks. When his partner shouted out in his defense, she was already halfway across the room, doing the same. They knew the sounds of chaos would draw attention—which was why LJ already had the window open.

Cade shoved Rachel over the sill as LJ hit the ground; he heard the sound of feet hitting the stairs and shouts as the other agents drew closer. Cade held his breath, threw his leg over the sill, then jumped into the pouring rain.

He had the overwhelming urge to search his pockets for magic beans, because that was the level of bullshit he was currently experiencing. A fractured fairy tale but no fairy godmother in sight.

They ran through the rain in the opposite direction of civilization and into the destruction that was once a hub of homes and condos and a direct artery to New York City. With the tunnel destroyed, no one had bothered to reconstruct the roads or businesses, leaving it for dumping of debris and construction mess.

They hiked down the hill—part construction refuse, part landfill—to the lowest point near the water. Construction trailers dotted the landscape, giving the illusion the area was being redeveloped. An easily jimmied lock on the trailer gave them some shelter—and gave Cade an idea.

“Strip off everything,” he panted, throwing assorted clothing from a locker toward his shivering compatriots. “We don’t want them tracking us.”

In between lightning flashes, they tore off everything and quickly changed into overalls and boots, heavy slickers, and gloves.

Every sound outside made them jump; Cade pressed up against the window, watching for signs they were followed, but nothing. Antsy, he located another trailer farther down near the water—they made their way to that one through mud and mess.

For hours they sat on the floor, keeping watch for Alec and his men. LJ found a laptop and some food; Rachel filled a plastic bag with box cutters.

“Until we find something that does more damage,” she said grimly, as Cade played sentry near the door.

The rain stopped before sunrise; they left the trailer and started walking.

“Where would he go?” LJ asked, perched on the concrete barricade at the end of what was formerly an entrance to the Lincoln Tunnel.

“The house. He’ll go to the house first,” Rachel said, her voice coming from deep inside the oversized rain slicker currently wearing her. She curled next to LJ, her feet not even touching the ground.

Cade wasn’t listening—he kept his eyes on the island, the lights of the District like an ugly beacon calling him home. He tried to convince himself that Nox was okay, that they would find him at the house, making plans and gathering supplies. But the blood and Alec’s indifference ate at his confidence.

He didn’t voice his fears.

He kept his eyes trained toward the lights.

N
OX
OPENED
his eyes.

The lights above him swam in hazy circles until he thought he might be spinning. No—no, that was a ceiling fan.

Too weak to move his head, Nox blinked and breathed, the only two things his body could manage. He felt his pulse, unnaturally loud and ugly inside his head. One leg throbbed, and the other he could barely register, let alone move. He moved his fingers, wrists; he tried to shrug a shoulder and nearly passed out from the nauseating pain that seared through him.

Shot.

He remembered being shot.

The van moving—now somewhere bright. Still.

Quiet.

Warm.

“Nox?” a voice asked from somewhere beyond his vision. “Nox? Can you hear me? Blink once for yes, twice for no.”

Someone laughed in the distance.

Nox swallowed as he tried to turn his head, but he barely moved a few inches before his neck locked up. With a moan of pain, he closed his eyes against the light.

When he opened his eyes again, very little had changed—except for the fact that he was in a bed.

Under a blanket.

A sudden surge of hope ran through his battered body.

They’d found him—Cade and LJ and Rachel. He was safe, and as soon as he’d gotten a little rest, they would be on their mission.

Someone called his name.

“C-Cade,” he managed, a croaked whisper as he tried to open his eyes again.

“No.” The voice came closer, and a hand touched his shoulder. “Not Cade.”

Fighting against the darkness, Nox forced his eyelids to obey. Every flicker got him another piece of light, another sliver of his surroundings. A face swam in and out of focus.

A familiar face.

The jolt of fear and confusion brought everything into a moment of clarity.

“Dad?”

T
HE
SHOCK
of the hallucination—dream?—pushed Nox back into the darkness. His brain threw nightmares at him; history and fiction mixed together until it was Rachel bleeding and dying as she gave birth to Sam, and Cade on the deck of the ferry as it went down.