Dark Time (2 page)

The look in his eyes frightened me and I knew in that instance—it wasn't just Joe's disappearance that had kept him hammering on Inanna and I.
 

There was something worse.
 

Much worse.
 

2

Joe's apartment not only looked abandoned, it
felt
abandoned. It was empty. Devoid of him. Not even his scent lingered.
 

"He disappeared not long after you did." TC stepped inside and shut the door behind me. "He looked for you. Didn't want to believe that you'd…somehow dug out your own heart and given it to some yahoo with a gun."
 

I heard him, but I wasn't really listening. It felt odd to be back in my own skin. Inanna was quiet, a part of the background noise once again. She didn't like it. Her irritation clung to my skin like a wool sweater in 100º humidity. I was thinner—if that was even possible. I'm a tall girl, with legs up to my ass…as Daniel used to say.
 

Sometimes when I thought of him, something stirred deep inside, as if waking for just a second, and then slipping back into a deep slumber. He was there…but he wasn't
there
. He wasn't in front of me, showing up when I least expected him with that goofy grin and shaggy hair.
 

And his glasses.
 

I missed his blue eyes and his glasses.
 

Joe's apartment was just below my own. I'd moved into the same building after leaving mom's and losing my condo. The same layout was convenient, and I'd been in his place enough times that I knew where things were. A thin layer of dust covered the kitchen counter, the high-backed stools, even the rotting fruit in the green bowl I'd given him as a present.
 

The trash had disintegrated beyond smell and into a pile of unidentifiable organic goo. As had most of what remained of the leftovers in his refrigerator, though I could identify what had once been a bowl of grapes. The milk was now cheese. Used K-cups littered the counter, also covered in sticky dust. I moved to his living room as my gaze roamed over the furniture. A half-empty beer rested on the coffee table.
 

All of it aged and preserved. "How long?"
 

"Two months now."
 

I whirled on him. TC leaned against the counter. "Two—how long have I been gone?"
 

"Two months. Well, we're moving into March. Joe vanished about a week after you did. But Nona didn't notice he was gone until Mastiff called. Joe didn't come to work and he didn't call. He wasn't responding to email either. When they got here…" he held out his hands. "The Society's been keeping the power on."
 

"He…didn't pack a suitcase? No overnight bag?"

TC shook his head.

I was not liking the sound of this. I also didn't like all the different scenarios running through my head. "Where's Rhonda? Anyone kept tabs on her?"
 

"You'd have to ask Nona. I haven't bothered with her." TC moved from the counter to the windows along the far wall. He pulled the curtains to reveal a rainy, darkening Atlanta skyline. "But I don't think the former witch is part of this mystery. She doesn't have any power left. Remember? You took it."
 

"Yeah I know but…" But what? What was I going to say? That I wasn't all that confident? That I'd checked that particular emotion at the door on my way out of my life?
 

I ran a hand through my unruly hair. It felt like Inanna hadn't bothered to brush it or wash it in… two months? When I looked down at myself I realized—I looked like something out of a slasher flick.
 

My jeans and shirt were stiff with dried blood. Brown. Hard. Nasty. Even my hands had brown stains on them. I wondered what my face looked like and half ran to Joe's bathroom. There it was even more evident Joe hadn't planned on a trip. His toothbrush, tooth paste, brush, shaving kit were all still on the sink. And when I turned on the light—

"What the hell?!"
 

TC appeared at my side and smiled at our joined reflection in the mirror. "What is it? You look lovely."
 

"I look like a B-movie vampire. Christ—do your people not bathe? Or use soap?" I grabbed a towel, the dusty bar of soap and started washing the stains off of my chin, nose, cheeks and neck. When I was done my skin was red and raw—but at least I didn't look like I'd been eating brains.
 

I grabbed a hairband I'd left in Joe's bathroom on my last visit—I was touched he kept it—and pulled my hair back. It needed a wash and cream rinse but I didn't have the patience for it. TC was back in the kitchen when I emerged and…

There was something else.
 

An old smell.
 

Like…cologne.
 

Something I'd smelled before. It was spicy. Musky. And it brought back memories. Older memories. Of being young and jumping into the arms of an old man—

I narrowed my eyes as I tried to see the memory. White hair and beard. White suit.
 

White—

The door burst open and roughly six guys in black fatigues with masks and really big guns burst in. "FREEZE!"
 

Before I could react—react being defined as OOBing out of there or vanishing completely—TC jumped in front of me and put himself between me and the armed soldiers of fortune. Or whoever they were. "Stop! There's no need for this!"
 

I heard something in TC's voice I hadn't heard in a long time. No wait…had I
ever
heard it? It was panic. He was afraid of something. And he apparently knew these gentlemen. I assumed they were the police coming to check the apartment because we tripped a silent alarm. After all, Joe was a cop. But a closer inspection of these guys showed no local badges or patches, not even an Atlanta Police Department pin.
 

And no big white letters announcing POLICE or CRIME SCENE INVESTIGATORS.
 

Or WRITER.
 

No…these guys were privately owned. And here on someone else's orders.
 

"Get out of the way, demon." The voice was mechanical, kinda like something out of a voice box. I didn't know which one of the masked men or women said this because there weren't any flashing lights or anything. "We have our orders."
 

"Whose orders?"
 

"Ms. Stephens."
 

I'd finally had it. "Who
is
this Ms. Stephens? I mean seriously? You guys are obviously Society. Is Jefferson with you?"
 

"No ma'am. He's on extended leave, no thanks to you." The venom in this guy's voice came through the voicebox. He hated me. And he wanted to shoot me.
 

"But I fixed him."
 

"You mutilated him." I spotted him because he leveled his weapon at me. That's when I realized these weren't ordinary weapons, these were those L-6 nightmare guns Randall Kemp invented. The kind that scrambled creatures like me. No wonder TC was standing between us.
 

"That…was an accident. And I tried to make it right."
 

"You're the one that's not right," another voice chimed in. All of them had their weapons trained on me. I could see a dozen or so little red dots on my chest.
 

On my blood stained shirt chest. Oh great. They already didn't like me and I looked like an ax murderer or serial killer. "Okay fine. Fine. But who is Ms. Stephens?"
 

TC glanced back at me. "Zoë—you know about Ms. Stephens. Vanessa Stephens. Robert Stephens's wife?"
 

The name was familiar. But for some reason I couldn't—

And then it hit me. Robert Stephens. State Representative Robert Stephens. He was the one set to replace Rhonda's uncle in congress. Only…he'd been filleted by those two rogue Travelers, Bertram and Charolette when they used part of him to make that scarecrow. They one they'd locked my mother's soul inside.
 

How…how did his wife…and I remembered her being rude and snooty…become a part of the Society?
 

"We don't have time for education, monster." The first guy, the guy who talked to me about Jefferson, reached over and pulled a shoulder mic closer to his face. "This is Shadow Team Two. We have the suspect in custody."
 

Suspect?
 

Custody?
 

I moved in closer to touch TC's shoulder.
 

They fired at me. All of them, all at once.
 

But they hit TC because he wanted them too.
 

The arcs of blue writhed and flared around him and I stepped back and put my hands up so all that light wouldn't blind me. TC's true Phantasmic form appeared briefly before he vanished. And once he was gone—I was in the open.
 

MOVE!
 

Inanna knocked me out of control with barely a nudge. But for me, it felt as if I'd been blown across the room and into the wall. And I had. Literally. I was OOB and white again, and sitting on the floor in the kitchen. Had I passed
through
the counter and chairs? I got up in time to see my body shift with Inanna at the helm. And let me tell you—that was a frightening thing to see. It wasn't me anymore. It was…

"I think you're a monster."

Dags's words rang in my head and stopped what was left of my heart just as the blast of the L-6 weapon struck me. Correction, make that three of the weapons. I gasped. Inanna gasped inside of me and my body shifted back to its human form. I was yanked back inside as well.
 

The instant I made contact with my skin I felt the pain. It was the most intense, debilitating sensation I'd ever experienced. The closet I could describe it would be to experience someone cutting open my chest and sticking their hand inside to pull my heart out while I could do nothing to stop them. The pain fired down both shoulders and arms. I couldn't breathe and I collapsed on the floor.
 

Inanna screamed in side of my head.
 

"Is she dead?"
 

"No she's a monster. She can't die."
 

"No sir…I think she
is
dying."
 

Someone touched me and I felt pressure on my chest. "Sir there's no pulse."
 

"Is she supposed to have one?"
 

"Of course she is. Yevins, get her breathing. I'm calling in for a med evac."
 

I had no idea what they meant. I wasn't there anymore. In fact, I was OOB again and hovering overhead and watching as they worked on me in my blood soaked clothing. They put a mask over my face…then snaked a tube down my throat.
 

"It's your heart."
 

I turned to look into the eyes of Azrael. He wasn't TC at that moment, nor was he the Archer. He was larger than life and had my soul folded into his arms. Into his wings.
 

Because…that's what Azrael was.
 

The Angel of Death.
 

3

The dreams came again. I saw Dags in front of me. His beautiful face was twisted in hate. And heard his voice echo everywhere in the dark.
 

"I think you're a monster."
 

What if I didn't want to be a monster? Did anyone ever ask me what I wanted? Did anyone even care? Was this what it was like to be something other than human? To be shunned and eventually hated by the ones you loved?
 

Would my mom hate me one day?
 

"No. I would never hate you. Though I want to bend you over my knee and give you a good spanking most of the time."
 

Wait a minute. That wasn't in my dream. That was mom's voice. I waved the image of Dags away and stood up from my lonely pity party in the dark. "Mommy?"
 

"You haven't called me that in a very…very long time, Zoëtrope."
 

I really hated that name.
 

When I finally let a bit of light into my nightmare, I realized I'd opened my eyes. The room was dim, even thought I saw florescent panels on the ceiling. They flickered and hummed like fluorescent panels do. There were clicks and whistles, a soft ticking noise. But no beeps. Not this time. When I focused on the shadow in front of me, I saw mom's face in it. She looked…old.
 

I'd always known my mom was in her fifties…rapidly heading into her sixties. But her face had never really shown it. She had good skin. And I'd always hoped I never showed wrinkles either.
 

But at that moment…it looked like the weight of life was pressing on her shoulders. "Ah there's my daughter. You had me worried."
 

Worried about…

"Are you in pain?"
 

I shook my head. I heard a whump-woosh I'd never heard before so I looked around. I had one of those cannulas in my nose and reached up to pull it out. Mom took my wrist and stopped me. "No. That has to stay in. They had a face mask on you, but we need to talk."
 

Talk? I looked at her and it felt like centuries since I'd last seen her. She sounded…worried. Her voice was soft and sweet, like it had been when I was a kid.
 

"Hi mom." My voice was its usual scratchy self. After having lost it for nearly a year…I liked hearing it.
 

"Don't you hi mom me." And there was present-day mom with a bit of saccharin. "What the hell were you thinking? Running off like that? Ripping part of your heart out to make a new arm—"
 

"But it was easy."
 

"By hell it was. Zoë," she sighed as she ran a hand through her hair. It stuck up from her head. "You do realize you're missing a chunk of your heart?"

I frowned at her. "For real?"

"Christ…yes for
real
. We did x-rays and you're missing a quarter piece of your left ventricle. It's a miracle you're still living."