Alone in the Darkness Read online

  Needless to say, things quickly devolved to the point of lunacy. Exaggerated stories were told in loud, drunken voices. Hilarious over-sharing of details shot back and forth while they slumped like invertebrates over the three couches. Tristan and Beth had just seized upon the idea of finding a channel for online karaoke, when Simon headed upstairs to get them a pile of blankets.

  Jennifer followed him there.

  “Oh—hey,” he gasped in surprise. He hadn’t heard her come up behind him. That tatù of hers was as stealthy as it got. The look in her eyes made him blush in spite of himself, and he gestured quickly to the stack of pillows and comforters in his arms. “I figured you guys would probably be staying over tonight. No one’s really in any shape to drive.”

  She took a step closer, smiling all the while. “That’s very considerate of you.”

  Again, there was nothing especially remarkable about the words. It was the way she said them that sent undeserved waves of guilt racing up Simon’s spine.

  Her pupils dilated as she leaned even closer, and before he knew what was happening she’d pushed him back into the linen closet.

  “Jen, what—”

  Her hand clamped over his mouth. Downstairs, they heard Tristan and Beth laughing loudly as they compiled a song list for the evening. Simon tried to shake her off, but the closet was far too small to move around without alerting the others. Instead, the two of them just stood there, inches apart, staring into each other’s eyes.

  “Simon.” She said it as more of a sigh than a name, her eyes softening with a kind of tenderness that Simon had never seen. “I’m not trying to start anything or come between anyone...I just wanted you to know.”

  Simon sucked in a quick breath as she lowered her hand. The air between them seemed to jump a thousand degrees. So hot it was suddenly hard to breathe.

  “Know what?” he asked in a voice as soft as hers.

  Her eyes locked onto his, and each word was slow and deliberate.

  “I’m here.”

  Such a simple little phrase, but it said so much. And implied so much more. And threatened to destroy even more after that.

  Simon gulped as his hand came up to take hers. Her eyes lit up hopefully, but the next second she jerked away with the telltale burn. A second after that Simon shoved past her, using her own tatù to do it, leaving her in the closet as he hurried back downstairs.

  “Hey!” Beth scooted over on the couch to make more room for him, flipping back her long hair and gazing up at him with intoxicated, trusting eyes. “What took you guys so long?”

  Another pang of guilt shot through his chest, but Simon pushed it away. He hadn’t done anything, after all. He was the target, not the instigator. As if on cue, Jennifer slipped back into the room and he found a better place to focus all his self-righteous indignation.

  “Nothing.” He sank down onto the sofa and threw his arm around Beth’s shoulders. This time he made direct eye contact with Jennifer, repeating the word with a bit of a warning. “Nothing.”

  Back in the vault, it was clear to see that her unwanted affections hadn’t been derailed in the slightest. But Jennifer was smart. And trained. She knew how to shift attention away from herself.

  “And that’s a hilarious bit of judgement to be coming from you,” she continued, diverting the conversation back to Tristan with a teasing glare. “I heard that before your heart was stolen away by the ever-elusive Mary, you were quite the little playboy back at Guilder.”

  Tristan smiled tightly, but shut the conversation down. He was always incredibly reluctant to mix his personal life with Mary with anything to do with ink or the Council. Simon had only been allowed to meet the girl one time. And that was when he had come back from a debriefing early to find her and Tristan about to leave in a waiting cab.

  Normally he would have been offended that his best friend chose to shut him out by compartmentalizing so drastically, but he couldn’t really blame Tristan. He couldn’t imagine how difficult it must be to keep a secret like ink from the person he loved. He couldn’t imagine trying to keep it from Beth. If it was easier for Tristan to separate them completely, so be it.

  Turns out the conversation was done anyway, because at that moment Beth raised her hand for silence. “Can everybody shut up?”

  The three of them shared a grin behind her back. Only Beth could ‘ask’ that without it being even remotely a question. They took another step back as she ran her fingers over the metal just as Simon did, before taking a step away herself.

  An almost dreamy look came over her bright blue eyes, then suddenly the blue intensified to an almost blinding light. Her body began to glow so painfully bright that the others automatically looked away to shield their eyes All except Simon. He didn’t care how much it hurt to look at Beth when she was like this. How dangerous it was to stand so close.

  She was never more beautiful, more resplendent to him, than she was in these moments.

  The light burned even brighter as ice-blue flames spread slowly up her arms, dancing around her fingers as she lifted them to the vault door. It melted away like butter, dripping down and hardening into a titanium puddle on the floor. Simon watched as the flames at once retreated, leaving behind only Beth’s glowing alabaster skin as she reached a hand inside and extracted the papers the Privy Council so desired.

  “See?” She whirled around, her eyes dancing with smug triumph as she waved the file above her head. “Piece of cake.”

  Then the fire alarm went off.

  THE FOUR OF THEM STILL hadn’t completely dried off by the time they got back to the boys’ flat in London. They had been able to sneak back through the roof before both the fire department and the second wave of guards came to investigate the reason for the alarm, but none of that did anything to temper Tristan’s anger as they drove thirty minutes across town, dripping small puddles into the upholstery of his new sports car.

  “Seriously, this is the last time,” he fumed, throwing the car into park and ushering them all out so he could survey the damage. “Next time, you drive.”

  Simon chuckled as he fished his keys out of his pocket to head inside. “You were the one who wanted to test out the new car. ‘Break it in,’ I believe were your exact words. Looks broken in to me.”

  “Whatever,” Tristan muttered, stroking the glittering hood and softening his voice like it was a small child. “Poor thing, never even stood a chance.”

  Beth’s sparkling laugh rang out up and down the quiet street. “Tell you what, Tris—I’ll make it up to you. After dinner tonight, I’ll let you beat me at poker.”

  He grinned but shook his head, circling back around to the driver’s seat. “As good as that sounds, I can’t tonight. Mary.”

  It was the only explanation he needed, but while the girls hugged him cheerfully in farewell Simon cocked his head with a slight frown.

  “Mary again? You’ve been over there almost every night this month. Whenever we’re not out on assignment.” He stuck his hands in his pockets, well aware that it sounded very much like he was pouting. “It’s like you don’t even live here anymore.”

  Tristan’s eyes flashed to his, but his lips twitched up with mock sympathy. “Aw, is someone getting a little jealous? A little lonely, maybe?” Before Simon could stop him he threw his arm around his shoulders, pulling him in for a tight, unwanted embrace. “Don’t worry, Simon, I promise to text as soon as I get there and once more before bed.”

  Simon gritted his teeth and leaned away, straining against the binding arms.

  “Then after the debriefing tomorrow morning, how about you and I spend some quality time, huh? Maybe brunch? Quilting? Just you and me.”

  Jennifer stoically offered her arm, and Simon took the ink with a grin. A second later Tristan was flying backwards, landing on the hood of his car.

  “Just don’t be late for debriefing tomorrow.”

  Tristan saluted and revved up the engine with a grin. “Don’t miss me too much.”

 
The next second he was gone, leaving the three of them standing in a suddenly awkward silence in front of the house. Neither of them looked at the others, and after a minute Jennifer backed away with a carefully controlled expression on her face.

  “I should head out, too. Give you two time to bang each other,” she clarified crassly.

  Beth rolled her eyes and started up the steps with a grin, while Simon met Jennifer’s eyes in spite of himself.

  It had only taken about a week of being partnered up with Beth for Jennifer to realize that something was going on between her and Simon. After plying Tristan with an ungodly amount of whiskey, little bits of the truth had slipped out before she up and asked them one day herself.

  Much to Simon’s surprise, Beth had admitted it without blinking an eye.

  “She and I are going to be living together,” she had explained. “Spending every second together just like you and Tristan. Could you imagine keeping something like this from him?”

  And so it was. The only people in the world who knew for sure about the illicit relationship were the agents themselves and their partners. And Jason, of course. Although, after getting over the initial shock of it, he didn’t really seem to mind. The only one who did seem to mind was Jennifer. That being said, she was great at disguising the conflicting emotions as playful banter and mockery.

  Well...she was usually great at it.

  As Beth fiddled obliviously with the lock on the door Simon watched Jennifer walk off down the street by herself, pulling up her collar against the cold. There was a slight hunch to her shoulders as she braced herself against the wind, and unless Simon was imagining it he could have sworn that he saw a single tear spill down her cheek.

  “Simon,” Beth called from the landing. He whipped around to see her standing there, a curious smile dancing on her face. “Are you coming?”

  He nodded quickly and started jogging up the steps, when a sudden movement caught his attention. His eyes flickered for a split second to a shadowed silhouette standing beneath a lamppost within the tree line of the park. While it was too far away for Beth to see it clearly, with Jennifer’s ink Simon was able to make out the figure of a man in an overcoat, the edges of whom were already starting to blur as it started to rain.

  His heart quickened in his chest as his foot froze mid-step in the air. A second later he was jogging back down again, heading down the street.

  “I’m going to pick up some ice cream,” he called, cocking his head in the direction of a convenience store across the park. “You pick out a movie.”

  Beth looked confused for a moment, then her face cleared with a smile. “You in the mood for anything in particular?”

  Simon forced himself to smile back. “Surprise me.”

  The second the door shut he abruptly changed directions, jogging instead not past the park but deep inside it. The man by the lamppost had vanished, but Simon knew where he’d be. The same place he’d been almost every week for the last year. Ever since the day Simon had woken up to see a mysterious letter scribbled across his hand.

  C.

  He dipped his head in welcome as he took a seat beside the man on the park bench. “Hello, C.”

  The rain was already soaking through their clothes, tossing about in the wind, but the man didn’t seem to mind. He merely looked up with a calm smile, putting away the dripping paper he’d been reading.

  “Don’t you think it’s time you started calling me by my real name?” Cromfield replied, looking Simon over fondly. “As much as I enjoy all of this cloak and dagger...”

  Simon shivered in the cold and folded his arms protectively across his chest. “Naw. It’s better this way. Besides, you were the one who started with the nicknames.”

  A joke, to lighten the tension. Simon usually started out these meetings this way. Not that Cromfield himself seemed the least bit on edge. It was always Simon. As far as he could tell, there was nothing overtly dangerous about the man. Nothing that could harm Simon if they should ever come to blows. But there was something chilling about him nonetheless. Something that kept Simon awake at night, heart pounding whenever he pictured the little park bench.

  “You shouldn’t have just shown up like that,” he continued, suddenly chiding. “I was there with my friends, with my girlfriend. They could’ve seen—”

  “I needed to talk to you,” the man replied calmly. “It’s been too long, Simon.”

  Simon bowed his head, feeling uncharacteristically guilty. “I’ve been working...”

  “Yes, I know. The Privy Council keeps you very busy.” There was a charged silence between them before the man straightened up with a sudden smile. “Which brings me to why I’ve come here. I’ve found him, Simon. The man I’ve been looking for.”

  Simon looked up curiously. For a little over a year, he and Cromfield had ‘worked’ with men and women of all different kinds of ink. Simon mentally replaced the word ‘work’ for other darker words. Words he found necessary, but had trouble looking in the eye. Words like ‘interrogated. ‘Tortured.’ Maybe even ‘killed.’

  When the people appeared back at Cromfield’s compound, Simon didn’t ask questions as to how they had gotten there. Neither did he ask questions when they suddenly disappeared as well. He enjoyed the intellectual and explorative aspects of what they were doing, but preferred not to think so much about the logistics.

  For the last two months, Cromfield had been unnaturally obsessed with collecting one man in particular. A man that he claimed could turn the tables in their shared quest to uproot the rotted elements in the Privy Council and start a new order of things. An order where those with the most power were the ones in control. An order which lived out Simon’s every dream.

  “You did?” he asked inquisitively. Cromfield had been inexplicably sparse about the details of the man in question. Simon didn’t know much. “Where was he?”

  “That doesn’t matter,” Cromfield answered bluntly. “What matters is that we have him, so now our work can begin. He’s being processed at the moment, but I’d like you to stop by and see him in a week or so when he’s ready.”

  Simon nodded mutely.

  ‘Processed’ was another of those words that he had trouble coming to terms with. He didn’t know exactly what it entailed. All he knew was that when Cromfield first brought in the people, they were angry, violent, and fighting for their lives to escape. After being ‘processed,’ they were docile. Hollow. Easy to control. As if some inner switch had been flipped off inside them. Perhaps broken off completely.

  “Of course,” Simon said softly. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  He stood up to go. These visits of theirs were never any longer than they had to be. The man fascinated him, and the work he was doing fascinated him even more. But he had trouble reconciling what he did back at the compound with his life here in London. At times, the duplicity of it was almost overwhelming. It was kind of like Tristan’s compartmentalization. He simply needed the two worlds to be separate. He didn’t know how much longer he could straddle both.

  He had made it halfway back to the sidewalk, when Cromfield called to him suddenly.

  “Simon?”

  He turned around to see the man watching him with a smile.

  “I think this one’s going to make all the difference.”

  For whatever reason, the words sent chills down Simon’s spine. He forced himself to smile, and nodded curtly before he disappeared into the rain. The second he was out of sight, he flat-out sprinted all the way back to his house.

  Beth was already sitting on the couch by the time he ran in, shaking the rainwater out of his hair. The television was on, and the beginning of a movie was paused on the screen. She looked up in surprise when he collapsed on the sofa next to her, throwing his arm around her tiny shoulders.

  “Where’s the ice cream?”

  There was a hitch in Simon’s breathing, which he covered with an easy smile.

  “They closed down early today.” He ge
stured out the darkened window. “Must be the storm.” Before she had time to absorb this, he pointed to the screen. “What did you pick?”

  “Oh, I think you’re really going to like it.” Her face lit up with anticipation as she settled back into his arms. “It’s called To Catch a Spy.”

  Chapter 3

  SIMON PACED BACK AND forth in the kitchen, staring anxiously at the clock. When he’d warned Tristan last night not to be late for the debriefing they had in the morning, it had been a throwaway. He hadn’t really been worried. Tristan had never been late for anything in his entire life.

  Until today.

  “Still nothing?” Beth murmured as she padded down the hall and joined him. She was wearing his bathrobe along with a pair of her girly slippers, a rather hilarious combination but one that was lost on Simon as he glowered out the windows at the empty street.

  “Nope.”

  She pulled out a coffee mug with a small frown. “Maybe he’s sick. Did you try calling him?”

  Simon held up his phone without breaking eye contact. “Straight to voicemail. Five times.” A flicker of worry rippled through him, but he quickly misdirected it into rage. “You know, this is why we shouldn’t be allowed to date anyone without a tatù. It gets too complicated. They don’t understand, demand all your time, and end up making you late for a debriefing with Masters himself.”

  Beth pursed her lips to restrain a smile. “You’re right, Simon. There’s nothing self-serving about that statement at all.”

  At this, he actually turned to her with a bit of a grin. It was true, he enjoyed breaking the rules very much. He’d enjoyed breaking them last night. He’d enjoyed breaking them again this morning. But before he could say anything to that effect, his attention was immediately reclaimed as a silver sports car spun around the residential corner at what had to be about ninety miles an hour. There was a wailing metallic screech, and the smell of burnt rubber filled the air as Tristan kicked open his door and leapt outside.