Awaken Me Darkly

“You are lying,” she ground out.



Yes, I was. I held her angry stare.



“Kyrin would never allow himself to be taken.” She gripped the edge of her cot, her knuckles quickly losing all color.



“Allow? Oh, no.” I chuckled. “He allowed nothing. My pyre-gun gave me all the authority I needed. You do remember the effects of stun, don’t you?”



Another pause.



“Is he hurt?” she half growled, half sobbed. She leaned forward, anticipating my answer. “If you hurt him, I swear by your God I will destroy you and all you hold dear.”



“He is unharmed.” Maintaining my casual facade, I leaned against the wall. I stared her straight in the eye when I added, “For now. If he is to remain that way, however, I need an act of good faith from you. A token of your appreciation, if you will.”



“You are a bitch.”



“Yes. Yes, I am.” I slowly grinned. “But compliments are not what I want from you.”



Her fists clenched and unclenched, and her pale cheeks brightened with color. “What do you want, then?”



“Information.”



“About William?”



“Yes.”



She chewed on her bottom lip. “Is that all?”



“For now.”



A long moment passed while she considered my offer. “How can I be sure you will release Kyrin?”



For one brief second, I hesitated in my deception. I’d always prided myself on my honesty, and each time I uttered a lie, a little piece of my integrity melted away. Then, like the click of a camera, an illumination of black and white, a picture of the four missing men, and now the missing Rianne Harte, flashed beneath my thoughts, followed quickly by an image of Dallas, hovering close to death.



“You have my word,” I said in the next instant.



Her neck arched back as she studied the white, patternless ceiling. “Very well, then,” she finally said, and crumpled back onto the cot. “Where shall I begin?”



“Start with the first day you met William and end with you in this cell.” I wanted to know everything. Knowledge was power, and in this situation, power was everything.



“I met him about six months ago. He came to the club. I knew he was married. I knew his wife was pregnant, but I didn’t care,” she added defensively, daring me to challenge her.



“I’m not judging you,” I said. Whether the man had loved Lilla or not, he hadn’t been as happily married as his wife claimed in her report. Jaxon would have to talk to the wife about that. “When did your affair begin?”



“A few days later. He came back to the club.”



“Mark St. John didn’t mind that you and Steele were sleeping together?”



“Oh, please.” She waved a hand through the air. “His opinion matters nothing to me.”



“Then why are you seeing him?”



She gave a dainty shrug. “Because it amuses me. George likes it rough, violence excites him, but Mark likes to be dominated. Sometimes I like one way, sometimes another.”



“Did George Hudson care about the affair?” I stepped forward. Her relationships were about more than sexual preferences, I’d bet.



“Oh, yes. He hates William.”



I closed a little more distance between us. “Did he hate William enough to kill him?”



“He is guilty of many things, but not murder.”



There was conviction in her tone. “What are your feelings for George?”



“He was a means to an end. A bastard, yes, but I must admit it was nice to have an A.I.R. agent at my disposal.” Her expression frosted, and I could tell I was entering territory she didn’t wish to discuss. “Surely I have answered all of your questions. Will you release Kyrin now?”



I ignored her. “At the club, you mentioned that you’d tried to tell Steele he would be hurt if he didn’t leave with you. You said you tried to warn him about them. Who is them?”



A moment passed, then another.



“Who were you talking about, Lilla?”



She wrung her hands in agitation, twisting and untwisting the sheet between her fingers. Finally, she replied, “A group of exiled Arcadians.”



“Exiled from what?”



“Arcadia. What do you think? Idiot,” she muttered.



I’d been called worse. “Why would these people want to hurt Steele?”



More hesitation. “He had something they wanted.”



I almost growled in frustration. The woman refused to elaborate without direct prodding. “I’m tired of prompting you, Lilla. Tell me all of it. What did he have that they wanted?” Edgy tension worked its way into my voice. I was getting close, very close, to the answers I needed. “What did he have that they wanted?”



“Life,” she cried. She jolted to her feet and paced the length of the far wall. “Life.”



“Life. I don’t understand.”



“Then you are stupid.”



My jaw clenched. “Do you know any of the other missing people?” One by one, I ticked off their names.



With the questions now veering away from the exiled Arcadians, her features softened, though she didn’t slow her frenzied pace. “I am only familiar with the last one. SullivanBay.”



“How do you know him?”



“I do not know him. I have heard of him.”



“From the exiled Arcadians?” I couldn’t help but bring us back to them.



Her lips pursed. “Yes. From the leader.”



“And just who is the leader?”



Her lips pressed together in mutinous silence, and her steps became wilder.



Okay, I would come back to that question. “Was your brother involved in any way with Rianne Harte?”



Grinding to a halt, she blinked over at me, and I could tell she was considering each of her coming words. “He spent some time with her, but what they did when they were alone, I know not. So if you want to know if he slept with her, I cannot verify that.”



An image of Kyrin in bed with another woman had me fighting a crest of irritation. With Kyrin and with myself. “Who is the leader of the exiled Arcadians? I’ll need to speak with him.”



“The leader is—” She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and drew in a deep breath. Her back was pressed against the wall. “The leader is Atlanna en Arr. A female. And the others are inconsequential.”



Atlanna…the name sent a strange wave of that humming energy through me. I don’t know why. My chin tilted to the side, and I watched Lilla for any sign of emotion. “Is this Atlanna your sister?”



“No.” Lilla chuckled, an amused sound that danced throughout the room. “Unlike your people, we are not named after our parents. We are named according to class.”



Interesting fact, and one I hadn’t known. “And just what class is en Arr?”



“Royalty.”



She could be lying to impress me. I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t have the time to delve further on that subject just yet. Kyrin en Arr, however, had the bearing of a king, so that fit. “Let’s talk more about Atlanna. How did she know SullivanBay?”



“They were lovers.”



“Were? Is he dead?”



I received no response.



I tried not to let my temper overcome my intentions. Most witnesses forced me to mentally beat every bit of information out of them, so in this Lilla was no different. Usually I handled the situation with patience—at least, I liked to think I handled each situation with patience. Today, I was hanging at the razor’s edge of tolerance.



“Is he dead?” I demanded again.



“I honestly do not know,” she sighed.



“Where is Atlanna now?”



“I do not know that, either.”



We were getting nowhere this way, so I tried another line of questioning. “Who killed William Steele? Do you know that?”



“No.” She glanced away from me.



“I think you’re lying. I think you and your brother are involved. I think your brother needs to be interrogated. Violently.”



A raging fire flared to life in her eyes. Had I been closer, she would have attempted to claw my face apart. “No matter what you discover,” she growled, “my brother was not involved.”



My back straightened, and my pulse leaped. “No matter what I discover, huh? That means there’s evidence against him.”



A gasp slipped from her, as if she’d just realized she’d said too much. “He is not responsible.” Nostrils flaring, she pointed a vengeful finger in my direction. “I’m finished speaking with you. I’ve told you everything I know. Will you now free my brother?”



“No. You answered some of my questions, but not all. I want to know about Kyrin. I want to know what the exiled Arcadians desired from Steele. I want to know—”



“Get out. Get out before I kill you. I do not know any more. I do not remember.”



My fists curled at my sides, and I remained in place. “You do remember.”



She remained silent, but small phantom fingers began to pry at my mind, suggesting I leave peacefully. The woman dared to try and control me again. I ground my teeth together. “You want to be stunned again?”



“Get out!” she screamed, and the pressure in my mind eased.



I’d get nothing more from her now, that much was clear. Just how long would I be forced to wait for her to calm down?



Time was quickly becoming my greatest enemy.



“I’ll leave,” I said, “but don’t think for a single moment that our conversation is over. You and your brother’s lives depend on your memory improving.”



CHAPTER 10



I spent an hour in the gym, sweating out my frustrations, pounding my fists and feet into the punching bag. I even utilized the virtual combat program, beating the shit out of computer-generated other-worlders. Unfortunately, my dark mood loomed even blacker when I strolled into the conference room fifteen minutes late.



I was determined to sit through this meeting and gather all the information I could. Even it if killed me—or I killed someone else. I’d already stuffed my car with the case files and secured documents from each abduction case. Secretly, of course. I’d paid Mandalay to hack into the mainframe and add my name to the list of those allowed inside the “Confidential” storage area. As soon as I exited, she removed my name. She hadn’t asked me why, just thanked me for the money. When I got home, I planned to go through them line by line and see if anything had been left out of the copies given to me.



See, agents were always given copies of the main file, never originals, and the main file was locked away and strictly for top brass. Supposedly, the practice was meant to preserve the original document from tampering. Pure crap. The government wanted their sticky little fingers in everything, that’s all; they wanted to control what we knew. And what we didn’t.



Conversation ceased as I eased into the only unoccupied chair at the table. To my left was Jaxon, and to my right sat Jack. Ghost, Kittie, Jaffe, and Mandalay, the only other female, were facing me. Behind them hung a virtual screen that contained five vertically lined pictures of the abducted. Beside each photo was the date, time, and location of each abduction. Below the photos was a map, each location pinpointed.



Jaxon gave me an encouraging smile to show his support.



I nodded in acknowledgment. Jaxon was a good man, one of the best on the force. A scar slashed from the top right side of his face to the bottom of his jaw—compliments of a rogue alien—yet he always managed to appear saintly. Maybe that was because he never spoke out of turn, never uttered a single sexual innuendo.



“How’s Dallas?” Ghost asked, his deep, rich baritone filling the space with sadness.



“The same.” I wanted so badly to tell them the truth, that Dallas might survive. But I didn’t. If they knew about Kyrin’s blood—and what I needed to do to get it—I’d be banned from Lilla’s cell forever.



Silence hung in the air, heavy and heart-wrenching, as each of us became lost in our own private thoughts of Dallas.



Finally, Jack cleared his throat and said, “Mia, Mandalay’s been telling us about the Harte abduction. She’s taken over since Johnson is sick. Mandalay?”



“Yes?” she said briskly, shuffling the papers in front of her.



“Continue.”



“Yes, sir. Harte was taken from her home a little after two P.M. Her roommate, also her sister, claims they were watching movies. Harte went to the kitchen to make a sandwich and never returned. There’s no sign of a struggle. No indication of foul play or unlawful entry. We haven’t been able to track down the boyfriend. Kyrin something or other. The sister didn’t know his last name. Only that he’s Arcadian.”



“Interesting, isn’t it?” Jack interjected with a raised brow. “That another Arcadian is in the picture.”



I didn’t comment. My stomach was too busy churning with dread. Kyrin had known Harte, had dated her. Even Lilla had admitted to that. Having an entire A.I.R. squad know it, though, didn’t bode well for Kyrin.



“Mia,” Jack said. “Tell us what you learned from Lilla.”



I drew in a calming breath, then pushed the air from my lips. “She mostly glossed over things we already know. However, I did learn that there’s another Arcadian female involved. Her name’s Atlanna en Arr, and she was seeing one of the abducted men, SullivanBay. She’s also the leader of a band of Arcadian exiles.”



“Mandalay?” Jack said with a quick glance to our computer expert.



“Already on it, sir.” Mandalay’s fingertips flew over the keyboard in front of her. Curly locks of red hair fell around her temples and brushed her wrists. By appearance, she was a commanding woman, tall, big boned. By nature, she was not a fighter. She worked better with probabilities and possibilities. She paused, faced Jack. “There’s no Atlanna en Arr mentioned in our database.”