Find Me in Darkness (5 page)

He is looking toward the stage, and though he could be looking at any one of the four of us, I know without a shadow of a doubt that his attention is entirely focused on me.

For a moment, he remains still. But when he finally moves to leave, the houselights catch his eyes. And though I know that he is much too far away for me to really have seen the color, it doesn’t matter. Because I am absolutely one-hundred percent sure that they are as gray as a building storm.

Malcolm
.

The name cuts through me, and I stop, only then realizing that I’d taken a step toward him.

I shake my head, entirely unsure where that name came from. I don’t know anyone named Malcolm, and yet the name seems to fit this man perfectly.

Which, of course, also makes no sense.

I watch as the man turns and leaves, pushing through the double doors at the back of the theater. I’m just about to rattle off an excuse about needing to go to the bathroom when Eric turns a bit and deliberately includes me in the conversation.

“Of course, analysis and interpretation is essential,” he says, “but the key is applying that interpretation. So how does what you noted about Juliet’s sexual sophistication apply to the scene we’re running?”

“Um.” I mentally kick myself, because my mind has wandered so far off topic that I’m having a hard time remembering what exactly I noted. “Right,” I stall. “Well, they’re talking about marriage. And, um, if she’s sophisticated about what goes on during a wedding night, then her line should maybe not be delivered with innocence, but with more self-assurance?”

For a moment, he says nothing. Then he points to Alicia. “Let’s run through it again. Christina, excellent work.”

My cheeks heat, but I accept the compliment graciously. And throughout the rest of rehearsal—as I infuse Juliet’s dialogue with sensuality and sexual awareness—I force myself not to think about the gray-eyed man who had filled my dreams.

Or the mysterious man who watched me from the back of the theater.

‡

M
al continued to
study the chessboard as Liam dropped into the seat across the table from him. They were in the VIP room at Dark Pleasures, the members only club that the Phoenix brotherhood had established in 1895 after Mal had insisted that they needed a place to gather, to talk, to be among friends.

Not that the club at 36 East 63rd Street was limited only to the brotherhood. On the contrary, throughout the years they had offered private memberships to certain select humans, most of whom didn’t have the slightest inkling that their hosts had more secrets than simply what transpired behind the solid oak door that led to the VIP section. The policy was useful in a number of ways, most specifically because it allowed the brotherhood to keep its finger on the pulse of the city, not to mention the world. Dark Pleasures’s clientele was, after all, highly exclusive. And any given evening would find the bar filled with politicians and dealmakers, money men and celebrities.

Today was Saturday, and since it was still early, Liam and Mal were the only two people in the VIP room. Later the brotherhood would fill this room, and members would flood the main clubroom. The air would be pungent with the scent of fine cigars, and the sound of ice tingling in highball glasses would fill the air. Most weekends he made the rounds through the members’ area, often finding a woman to share his bed that night.

Tonight, that wasn’t going to happen.

After having Christina in his arms only two nights ago, he knew he would never again be inclined to bed another woman, not even for the pleasure of forgetting.

“Who’s winning?” Liam asked, nodding at the chessboard.

Mal sighed as he picked up his queen and rolled her between his fingers. “I suppose that depends on what qualifies as a win.”

“Considering you’re playing yourself, that’s not the answer I expected.”

Mal put the queen back down, taking care not to look at his friend’s face. “I’ve been playing by myself for a long damn time, Liam.”

“Yeah,” Liam said softy. “I guess you have.”

Mal looked up, then took a long sip of Glenlivet as he studied his friend. Liam’s broad shoulders and well-muscled body filled the chair, but equally compelling was his commanding presence. Liam was a man who knew what he want, and didn’t stop until he got it.

Mal and Liam were like brothers and had been for millennia. Hell, since before they’d left home to come here, chasing the bad guys across time and space like goddamn cowboys. And now here they both were, co-leaders of the Phoenix Brotherhood, a group of immortal warriors headquartered in New York, but scattered across the globe. Still chasing the bad guys. Still trying to put right what had gotten fucked up so many centuries ago.

He almost laughed. Put like that, it sounded like the plot of a goddamn James Cameron movie.

Liam pulled out his phone and placed it on the table. “Just heard from Raine.”

Interested, Mal leaned back in the leather arm chair. Mal and Raine had been friends since their training days, but that friendship rose to a new level when they’d both lost their mates as a result of the shit storm that had gone down when they’d crashed in this dimension. Livia, thrust back into the rift between dimensions. Christina, an unwilling host for a horrific and unstable weapon.

Both men had been desperately lonely, their pain acting almost like a bond. But recently Raine had learned that Livia’s essence hadn’t been catapulted out of this world after all. Instead, it had been absorbed into a human, and after all these years, Raine had once again found his mate’s essence in the body and soul of Callie Sinclair.

And though Mal was happy for his friend—truly happy—he couldn’t deny that he was jealous as fuck. Because he was never getting Christina back. Not like that. Maybe he’d given her a reprieve—letting her live her life and go to her rehearsals and take her jogs in Central Park and go out for sushi with the friend she’d moved in with, because oh yes, he’d been watching her—but that was just time, and time was running out. She was a walking bomb about to go supernova, and she didn’t even know it. And sooner—not later—he was going to have to man up and pull the damn trigger.

Unless…

“Mal?” Liam’s voice was steady, but Mal could hear the concern. And the question.

“Thinking. Sorry.” He rubbed his chin, the stubble scratching his palm and reminding him that he hadn’t shaved in days. Not since seeing Christina had thrown his life completely off-kilter. He sucked in air and ordered himself to get his shit together. “Is Raine on his way here?”

Liam nodded. “They’re coming in before they go celebrate. Callie’s now a New York County Assistant District Attorney.”

“That’s excellent.” Before coming to New York to be with her ailing father, Callie had been a lawyer in Texas. Once she and Raine found each other, though, she’d taken steps to secure a similar position in Manhattan so that she could continue the job she enjoyed while being with the man she loved.

Mal glanced down at the table to hide the spike of jealousy, and considered the position of the rook in relation to the bishop. “It can only help Phoenix Security to have someone in the DA’s office.”

“Agreed,” Liam said, and then said nothing else.

Mal closed his eyes, silently cursing. He loved Liam like a goddamn brother, but right then he just wanted to be alone. He opened his eyes and put his elbow on the table, then rested his chin on his fist. He studied the board and hoped that Liam would get the hint.

Liam didn’t move.

When the weight of the silence became too much, Mal looked up at him. “Something else?”

“I don’t know. Is there?”

Mal said nothing, just waited.

“Dammit, Mal, you need to talk to me. You’ve been brooding for two days. Either wandering the streets off god knows where or sitting over this damn chessboard, half the time without an opponent.”

“There’s always an opponent,” Mal said.

“Jessica’s worried,” Liam said, referring to his own mate.

At that, Mal bit back a smile. “Jessica?”

“Fine. I’m worried, too. Tell me I don’t have reason to be.”

Mal sighed, then combed his fingers through his hair. “I’ve been thinking about games,” he admitted, knowing that Liam would understand that he was thinking about Christina. Because when was Mal
not
thinking about Christina? “About strategies.”

“Mal. Don’t do this to yourself.”

“To myself?” A sudden fury burst through him, and he lashed out, sending chess pieces flying. “Do you think I want this pain? Dammit, Liam, not a day goes by that I don’t think of her. That I don’t crave the moment when I will see her again … even as I dread it.”

Liam drew in a breath. “I wish I didn’t have to tell you this. But she’s back. She’s in New York.”

Mal’s body turned to ice. Each time Christina was born into this world—humans would call it reincarnation—her physical form was different. As her mate, only Mal could sense her essence from afar. But the members of the brotherhood—all of them, including Jessica and the other immortal women—could sometimes catch a glimpse of the weapon hidden deep inside her if they were looking straight at her. Some, like Asher, could even feel the disturbance in the fabric of the universe when the power of the weapon rose up inside her.

Mal clenched and unclenched his fists as he gathered himself. Thank god Asher had been out of the country last Thursday night. He’d been too far away to feel the ripples in the universe.

But the question remained—what did Liam know? And how?

“Did you hear me?” Liam asked. “She’s back.”

“Are you sure?”

In front of him, Liam’s face was harsh. “Dante saw her. He said it was just a flicker, so he could be wrong, but—”

“He’s not,” Mal said flatly, as the cold settled into his bones. He turned his attention to the now empty chessboard.

“Do you think it doesn’t destroy me, too? She was your mate, but she was my friend, my crew. But there’s no other way,” Liam said, accurately following Mal’s thoughts. “There is no other strategy, no trick we haven’t thought of.”

He stood, and Mal could see the pain on his friend’s face, as potent as his own. “You have to kill her again, Mal. Because if you don’t, she’ll end up destroying us all.”

“Do you think I don’t know that? Jesus, Liam, I think about it every goddamn day.”

Liam tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as he studied his friend. Mal silently cursed. Liam was not an idiot. And one of the reasons he was a damn good leader was because he saw what his crew—and what his partner—tried to hide.

“You’ve seen her,” Liam said, as he rose out of the chair, as if the news had pushed him to his feet. “You’ve seen her, and you let it ride. Goddammit, Mal.” He pressed the fingertips of both hands to his temples. “If you don’t do it, I will. The stakes are too damn high.”

Without even thinking about it, Mal was out of his chair, his fist slamming hard into his friend’s jaw. As a man, Liam was huge, wide and muscular compared to Mal’s lean, athletic frame. And Liam had at least forty pounds on him.

Didn’t matter. Mal caught him unaware and sent him stumbling backward, then fisted his hand in the collar of Liam’s shirt and yanked him back. “Do not even
think
of going there.”

Liam said nothing, but Mal could feel the tension in his friend as Liam held back, forcing himself to stay still. Mal wished he wouldn’t. He wanted Liam to let go. Goddammit, right then he wanted nothing more than to beat the shit out of somebody. Anybody.

“Mal!”

He looked up to see Callie across the room, her green eyes seeming even wider with her blond hair pulled back into an elegant knot, and Raine moving fast toward them.

“Back it off, buddy,” Raine said. His tight expression, sleeves of tats, and close-shaved head would have made him seem dangerous if Mal didn’t know him so well. Then again, Raine
was
dangerous. Just not to the brotherhood.

“
No
,” Liam said, his eyes never leaving Mal’s face. “You need to do it, then do it. Take a swing at me. Beat me to a bloody pulp. Do whatever you have to, but get it out of your goddamn system. Because you know I’m right, Mal.”

Time seemed to stop as Mal stood there, his hand still locked on Liam’s shirt. Beside him, Raine stood poised to intervene, clearly torn, not sure if he should be pulling Mal back or following Liam’s lead and just letting this little drama play out.

And across the room, Callie watched all three of them, her lovely face awash in horror and confusion.

“Goddammit.” Anguish flooded him, and Mal dropped his hand, releasing Liam.

Once more, he sank back into the chair, then covered his face with his hands and told himself that the only thing he needed to do in that moment was remember to breathe.

“She’s back,” Raine said. It wasn’t a question, and Mal didn’t answer.

“Who?” Callie’s voice was soft and near.

“Christina.”

“Oh, Mal.” Sorrow filled her voice. “I’m so sorry.”

He looked up. Raine had taken the chair beside Mal, and he held out his hand for Callie, who settled in his lap.