Penumbra (The Midnight Society #2) (18 page)

Chapter Twenty

Aria

“Like I said before, I knew your father well,” Lincoln said. “He was a good man. However, I wasn’t the one who murdered him.”

Beau held his tongue, despite looking very pissed.

“Your father was shot and killed by Calisto Tremaine,” Lincoln said. “I was there when it happened. I watched him die, and there was nothing I could do to stop her.”

“Your prints were all over the gun that killed my dad along with his friends,” Beau seethed. “You’re telling me that you didn’t kill any of them?”

Lincoln shook his head. “I did kill them. I shot James and Brevin,” he admitted. “And honestly, if Calisto hadn’t killed Donald first, there’s a good chance I would have shot him too.”

“You’re a stone-hearted fucking killer cocksucker,” Beau spat.

“That I am,” Lincoln replied as he swallowed hard. “And I wish to God I wasn’t.”

Lincoln’s hands were shaking.

The man standing before me and pointing a gun at Beau wasn’t the same man that had spent the last two weeks consoling me, gluing together all the broken fragments of my being with his unwavering strength.

No, the man that stood before me now looked tired, finally worn down by the guilt locked away. I had a feeling that Lincoln was going to do something incredibly dumb unless I stepped in.

“Don’t be stupid Lincoln,” I cried out. Not the best choice of words to console an unhinged man, but it was to the point. “You didn’t kill anyone. It was all Calisto.”

Lincoln shook his head, a single tear trickling down his cheek. The only other time I seen Lincoln cry was at the Inferno, after he had pulled the trigger of the revolver, delivering a bullet into James Takeshi’s skull.

“I didn’t have to play Calisto’s game,” Lincoln said, his gun still pointed at Beau. “I could have refused, and then perhaps one of them would have walked away alive.”

“You would have been killed,” I pointed out.

“They were better men,” Lincoln said. “I accumulated my wealth through lies and lady luck—whereas the others worked hard for it. Any of them would have been better leading this crusade we’re on.”

I turned to Beau “This man was not responsible for your father’s death,” I said. “The weight of that falls on Calisto. Do you hear me?”

Beau looked unmoved.

“I know you wa
nt justice for your dad,” Lincoln said. “I wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger, but I would have done it just the same. It was only circumstance that Calisto killed him before I could.”

Lincoln suddenly lowered his gun, and opened up the chamber, emptying out all the bullets save for one. He spun the chamber, and then snapped it shut again.

“These were the odds given to the men that died that night,” Lincoln said as he handed the pistol over to Beau, who took it without hesitation. “If you’re still convinced I’m responsible for their murders, I’ll give you one shot. There might be a bullet flying out of that barrel when you pull the trigger, or it could be empty. But one shot is all I’m giving you. No hard feelings after.”

“Lincoln, are you crazy?” I asked.

He looked at me and smiled. “Just about,” he replied. “But we’ve all been a little crazy lately, haven’t we? If that one-in-six chance plays in Beau’s favor, I need you to finish the job we came here to do.” Lincoln wiped the tears from his eyes. “You’re not the same girl I first saw at Shadow’s party. You’re different now and I get the feeling you can stand toe-to-toe with just about anyone in this world. Get the money, deliver it to Shadow and…” he paused as he took a deep breath. “Take Calisto down. Make her pay for what she’s done.”

“Lincoln, you can’t be serious,” I said. I needed to talk some sense into him. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes I do,” he replied. “If a higher power thinks I should be punished for my crimes, then so be it. However if forgiveness is in my cards, then I’ll move on from this. I’ll wash my hands of all their blood.”

He turned to Beau. “Now what are you waiting for? Pull the trigger you bastard.”

Beau raised the gun and aimed it straight at Lincoln’s head, his eyes filled with fire and ash. He pursed his lip as his finger rested against the trigger of the gun.

My heartbeat reverberated through my body and up into my throat. I tried to say something, but I was at a loss for words.

“Fire the damn gun, bastard.” Lincoln was taunting Beau now.

I prayed that the sta
rs aligned for Lincoln and the odds prevailed in his favor. Five out of six chances he would survive.

“I could pull the trigger more than once you know,” Beau suddenly said. I felt my stomach drop to the floor. Was Beau that hell bent on killing Lincoln?

I slowly made a play for my own gun, but before I could draw, Beau pulled out his own firearm and pointed it straight at me.

“I don’t think so Lucy—if that’s even your real name.”

“Aria,” I replied. “That’s the name my dad gave me, and if you even think of pulling that trigger, that’s the name you’ll be begging for mercy to while I chop your body up and feed it to the alligators.”

Beau almost laughed. “And what can a girl like you possibly do?”

“I’m the Crow Killer,” I replied.

He turned his head and looked at me, his eyebrows raised.

“Well shit,” he said, “You’re
the
Aria the Crow Killer?”

“She is,” Lincoln said, his eyes turning to me. Was that a look of adoration in his eyes?

“Listen pumpkin…” Beau began.

I was quick to interrupt him. “I’m not a fucking pumpkin.”

“Fine sweet pea…”

“My name, once again, is Aria, and you can refer me to as that,” I stated, “and not some piece of produce.”

Beau sighed. “Aria, I have no issues with you,” he said as he lowered his gun. “I have no intention of hurting you, but if you’re thinking about pointing a gun on me, you best be sure you’re willing to pull the trigger.”

“Aria, leave this matter between us,” Lincoln said. “Please.”

“You heard the man,” Beau said. “This is an agreement between gentlemen. I will honor that agreement and pull the trigger once, and only once. After that, we are square, regardless of the outcome.”

“Good,” Lincoln said. “Then do it already you pussy.”

Beau took a deep breath and closed one eye, lining up his sight.

Please, let Lincoln live.

Up until this point, I never realized just how much I needed him in my life. To lose him, like I had lost Justin, would kill me.

I held my breath and waited for Beau to pull the trigger, listening to the rhythm of Beau’s heavy breaths as his eyes focused on Lincoln’s head. 

He never did fire the gun. Instead, he lowered it.

“Fuck it,” he said. “You’re an asshole, but it’s not worth shooting you in the head for.”

Lincoln raised his brow. “That’s it then? We’re square?”

Beau shook his head. “No, we’re not square,” he replied. “I’m still going to treat you like you’re
the world’s biggest cocksucker, and I’ll still work with you but I won’t kill you.”

“I suppose that’s fair.”

Beau exhaled. “I think it’s time I went out and got myself a drink,” he said. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather be alone for a moment.”

I felt relief wash over me like tranquil waters. Hopefully now, Lincoln would fulfill what he promised, and move past this guilt.

“Just curious Beau, what would have happened if you shot at me?” Lincoln asked.

Beau shrugged, pointed the gun to the ceiling and pulled. The sound of gunfire erupted, the bullet tearing through the first floor ceiling, creating a perfect circle.

“Looks like you’d be dead,” Beau replied as he walked over to Lincoln and shoved the gun back into his hands. “I took it easy on you Mr. Lincoln Richards. If it was Calisto standing in your place, I wouldn’t have hesitated to fire away. She deserves a bullet’s kiss.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Lincoln said.

Beau nodded. “Good night,” he said as he opened the door to the antique shop and stepped outside, immersing himself in dusk’s orange glow.

#

Lincoln lay on the sofa bed which sported a newly constructed bullet hole right dead center of it. He stared at the ceiling, his hands behind his head.

His face displayed a look of ambivalence, as if what transpired with Beau never happened.

“Are you finished being stupid now?” I asked.

“Huh?”

“Are you done wallowing in your self-inflicted guilt over the deaths of your friends?”

Lincoln smiled as he rose from the bed and walked over to the liquor cabinet, pulling out a bottle of scotch along with two glasses.

“Funny, I could ask you the same thing,” he said as he poured us both a drink. He handed a glass over to me, which I gladly took.

I definitely needed a stiff drink.

I felt the alcohol settle in my stomach, permeating a warm afterglow throughout the rest of my body.

It was funny, I never took to alcohol much—mainly because I could never afford it—until I started partying with Calisto a few weeks ago.

If I had only known what the bitch was up to then, I could have stopped this all from happening. I could have slipped rat poison in her drinks when she wasn’t looking.

Lincoln raised his glass to me, and then downed his drink in one shot. He pulled the top off the bottle and poured another into his glass.

“Want one more?” he asked.

I nodded. “I’m stranded on a different boat than you are in terms of feeling remorse,” I said as I took the glass and sipped it this time, the harsh sweetness of the liquid settling on my tongue. “I’m not bitter at the fact that I couldn’t save Justin—though watching him burn did affect my abilities to enjoy music. I’m angry at myself for telling him about the Midnight Society in the first place. He died because I couldn’t hold my tongue. I was so stupid—so naïve—thinking that nothing bad would happen. I thought that the Midnight Society was just some exciting game I was playing.”

Lincoln took a seat at the circular table and leaned back in his chair. He took another generous sip from his drink.

“Aria, Justin was going to die no matter what,” he said. “Calisto would have found another way to manipulate the situation. Trust me. She’s very good at creating chaos, and then convincing another person that they were the root cause of it.”

“I noticed you’re starting to reference her by her name.”

Lincoln nodded. “It takes me a few days to get over heartbreak,” he replied as he rapped his fingers on the table. “It’s been about three weeks since she revealed her true colors to me. I think that’s more than an acceptable amount of time to get over the queen of sociopaths.”

“Do you still love her?” I asked.

Lincoln poured himself yet another drink. He took a healthy swig, and then closed his eyes for a moment, contemplating the question.

“Yes,” he said. “I fancied that girl ever since the Academy—despite knowing that loving a woman like that would only lead to trouble for my poor heart.”

“How can you love a woman who’s the devil in a black dress?”

“I wish I didn’t,” Lincoln said. “But love is a very difficult thing to just turn on and off.”

It was—unless your name was Shadow Tremaine.

“But I’m finding that every day, I love Calisto a little less…” he paused, “Make that a lot less. I’m beginning to appreciate the simple qualities in women that I once loved before I had a penny to my name.”

I was intrigued.

“And what qualities would that be?” I asked.

He smiled. “A good heart, a strong personality, and a killer set of tits.”

I reached over and lightly punched him in the shoulder. “You’re a caveman,” I laughed.

He looked at me, his eyes wide with wonder, as if he had gazed upon a falling star. There was a wicked alchemy brewing—a seductive concoction composed of liquor and my own vulnerability—and I felt his animalistic magnetism pull me in like a black hole.

I was drawn to Lincoln’s boyish charms, especially that innocent yet devious grin of his which told me he was up to no good. The intensity of his blue eyes had me frozen in my place. He could have had his way with me at this moment—tied me to the bed and fucked me with his cock until sunrise, and I wouldn’t have resisted.

Shit, was that what I actually wanted? Or was it the alcohol talking? I wasn’t in a good place at the moment; I knew that much was true.

I looked at Lincoln, my body quivering.

I needed to kiss him. I leaned forward, aiming for his mouth. However instead of finding his lips, I felt my nose brush against his elbow as he rose from the table, avoiding me just in the nick of time.

Rejected.

My heart sank. I felt like a complete idiot.

I watched him walk over to the old piano pushed against the wall of the room.