The Darkness Within (3 page)

He was shaking his head. “No. This is crazy.”

“I wish it was.” Carrie shook her head, her expression one of genuine agony. “But think about it: you’ve always felt different. You have abilities no one else has. And haven’t you sensed something dark inside you?”

The dreams. Tucker had confided recurrent nightmares about turning into a beast.

Carrie said, “Hold out your hand. Focus on an animal you admire. Think of its paw.”

He held out his hand, fingers splayed. Nothing happened.

“Now, think of Del kissing another boy.”

His eyes narrowed as he concentrated, then widened as a shadow surrounded his hand. With claws. He jerked his hand back and shook it, as though it were on fire. It looked normal again.

Carrie shuddered, turning away. “I’m sorry, but you had to know sometime. Better now, before you accidentally Become and expose yourself. People would think you demonic. They would kill you. You have to do everything you can to keep your abilities, and Darkness, hidden. You don’t want to hurt Del, do you?”

“No. Hell, no.”

Carrie looked as though she were going to cry. “I’m so sorry, Tucker, but you have to go. You and Del have crossed the line, one I know can never be uncrossed.”

“Del.” That word, filled with agony, drew her attention from his hand. “Del, look at me.”

Fear kept her from meeting his gaze. She could not reconcile the beast her mother had just told her about with the man sitting beside her.

“No, Mom. I don’t believe it!” Not Tucker. He could never possess the evil that had killed her father.

Carrie sighed. “See for yourself. Get your father’s ring.”

The ring Del wasn’t allowed to touch, for fear she would experience the end of her father’s life. Del ran to her mother’s room, flipping open the old jewelry box. Del pulled the ring from the box. She needed to see it for herself.

The images hit her: a man who looked like Tucker stalking toward him. “She’s mine,” he growled, the words soaked in possessiveness. In front of her, his body morphed to a smoky substance, and then formed into something not human, not animal. It vaguely resembled a lion, made of black oil.

Her father’s fear and confusion rocked her, her mother’s screams for Tony to run. But the sight of the unholy beast froze him, and Elgin lunged. She felt the claws tear into Tony’s neck, the warm blood gushing down his chest and spraying across the floor. Pain and fear rocked her. She dropped the ring with a gasp and dashed to her mother’s bathroom, retching in the toilet.

Her stomach kept heaving until nothing more came up. She washed her face and rinsed her mouth, startled at the pale but blotchy girl staring back from the mirror. Weak, wasted, she stumbled back out. Tucker’s bedroom door was half open, and she pushed it. He wasn’t in there.

“Where’s Tucker?” she asked when she walked to the living room and didn’t see him there.

“He’s gone,” Carrie said, staring at the door.

Del ran to it, but her mother grabbed her around the waist. “Let him go, Del.”

She fought, calling out his name, but she was so weak. Her mother’s arms were like iron clamps, and finally Del sank to the floor and cried.

She went to school the next day, unsure whether he’d be there. The school year was nearly over, and Tucker hadn’t been overly fond of going anyway. At P.E. she spotted him on the other side of the chain link fence that divided the different areas. He was looking at her with an expression of desolation. She couldn’t stop herself from leaving the track where she was running laps, drawn as always to him.

He met her there, his fingers curled around the fence wire. “You turned away from me . . . ran away.”

She shook her head. “I had to see what my mother had described. It was horrible. I got sick. You were gone when I came out. Where did you go? Where did you sleep last night?”

“Mrs. Markham’s house. She’s visiting her kids, so I slept on her couch.” He held out his other hand, long fingers, nails trimmed. “Look. Nothing. No shadow or paw or whatever it was. Maybe it was some optical illusion, because we expected to see something. I tried all night, Del. I tried to Become something. It didn’t work. She’s wrong. Your mom is wrong.” Desperation permeated his voice. “She’s just freaked out, or maybe she’s crazy. You heard what she said. ‘Another dimension’? That’s insane. Right?”

He laughed, the sound hollow. “She kicked me out. I did nothing but kiss you and she kicked me out. Del, you have to get out of there. She might see some shadow in you, too, and kick you out. What will you do then? Leave with me. Tonight.”

His order shot panic into her. “I can’t just leave my mother. Yeah, she’s paranoid, and kicking you out was an overreaction, but if you’d seen my father being murdered”—she swallowed hard, remembering those wild gray eyes, so much like Tuck’s—“you’d understand. I touched his ring and experienced everything that happened in those last minutes of his life. I had to see for myself, because I didn’t believe her.”

“And you believe her now?”

Del nodded. “Your father morphed into a beast, just like she said.”

He winced. “Don’t look at me like that. Like it was me, like I’d do something so terrible. Maybe she made you see it. Like she made us see the paw.” He reached through the fence and gripped her wrist. “Come with me, Del. You’re mine.”

She’s mine.
She heard that man’s possessive statement in Tucker’s words and, with a yelp, jerked her hand away. “Did you hear yourself?”

He took a step back, his expression shell-shocked. “I didn’t mean it . . . like that.”

Her mother’s words echoed:
You wouldn’t mean to, but it would overtake you.

“We didn’t imagine it,” Del said, tears in her voice and in her eyes. “We can’t pretend it didn’t happen.”

She wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to go back to when it was just her and Tucker, and she knew nothing of desire or Darkness or death. But she couldn’t erase the images. The truth burned in her mind, a relentless recital of her father’s pain and fear and murder.

He shook his head. “No. We can’t.” He strode to the back edge of the fence where it was shorter, and launched over it, tearing off down the street. A coach yelled after him, but Tucker never stopped.

She clutched her hands to her chest. “Tuck.” The word came out a whisper. She touched the metal where his hand had been. His pain rocked her so hard it threw her head back. She let out a small cry and sank to her knees, because twined with his love for her was that fierce possessiveness she’d heard in his voice. He was as dangerous as her mother had said.

Yes, she was afraid of him. Afraid of what was in him. But in the days after that, she desperately needed to see him again. He wasn’t at graduation, wasn’t at Mrs. Markham’s house, wasn’t anywhere. She’d sneaked out late at night for weeks, taking her mother’s car and driving around the areas she knew he’d grown up in. He’d disappeared, taking her heart with him.

Then, when she’d least expected it, she found him a year ago. He’d been the one who turned away from her. She had gotten a taste of what he’d probably felt, and God, it hurt. Even worse, she’d seen nothing in his slate gray eyes when he looked at her. No emotion or longing, only cold disregard. She wasn’t expecting a warmer reception now.

And what if he’s the one who killed that guy?

She’d told her mom she knew Tuck would never do such a thing. In truth, she didn’t know him, not anymore. Seven years had passed, seven years of God-knew-what. But he was all she had.

Chapter Four

S
TREET PERFORMERS AND
cons usually carved out their turf, or so Tucker had told Del. He made a circuit, going from spot to spot within his turf so that by the time he returned, there would be a fresh crop of tourists.

The February air nipped at her cheeks as she walked from her car to where she had seen him last. The sky was brilliant blue with clouds that looked like frosting spread too thin. The cold didn’t keep the tourists and gamblers away. The end of the world probably wouldn’t keep them from Vegas.

There was a new breed of street performer: people in costumes who would pose with you in a photo opp for tips. She passed on offers from Mickey Mouse and Batman.

“I live here,” she growled as Captain Jack Sparrow approached.

Tuck wasn’t at the place where she’d found him before, so she kept searching. She felt cold from the inside out, even beneath her heavy coat.

The sound of applause down a side street twenty minutes later drew her attention. Yes, a group of people gathered, their breath puffs of fog that hung in the air. A rock song from the eighties played in the background.

She heard his voice first, low and smooth with a hint of the theatrical. The crowd was quiet between bursts of applause. They formed a tight circle around him, but Del managed to nudge her way in.

Even after his rebuff, the sight of him clutched at her stomach. He wore the black pants and shirt, opened just enough to show the tan V of his muscular chest. His sleeves were rolled up, hands moving gracefully as he unraveled what looked like a coil of black rope. It reared up, as though to strike the man in front of him, and he jumped back. The “snake” evaporated, and the crowd applauded.

Sunlight reflected off Tuck’s dark hair, long enough to brush his collar. He turned to an attractive woman at his side. “And madam, what is your heart’s desire?”

“You,” she said on a laugh, not entirely kidding.

He bowed, one arm pressed against his stomach. “That may be arranged. But what can I make for you in front of these lovely people?”

Her cheeks flushed. “A rose.”

As he came up from the bow, he held a rose made of the same black substance as the rope. He extended it to her, and the moment she reached for it, the rose also evaporated. He gave her a conciliatory smile and shrug. “Ah, isn’t love fleeting?”

He’d always had beautiful hands. While Del was looking at those hands, he suddenly turned and speared her with a look. He’d known she was there last time, too. Did he have that ability to sense others that her mother had spoken of?

All thoughts fled, though, as she felt the impact of those icy gray eyes, and then their quick dismissal. It was a stupid idea, going to him. She wasn’t even sure what he could do, but she would go crazy if she didn’t talk to someone.

He threw up handfuls of what looked like black dust, and as it rained down on him, he disappeared. Literally disappeared. A moment later, he reappeared with a flourish of his arms. The crowd applauded wildly.

It hit her. He wasn’t using his telekinesis.
He was using Darkness. As a trick!

He bowed, signaling the end of the show, and thanked everyone for their kind attention. People tossed bills into a carved wooden box until it nearly overflowed. He stood nearby, watching it with one eye as he spoke with the last of the crowd.

“You’re as good as any of those boys at the big casinos,” one man said, dropping a twenty into the box.

Tucker leaned down to tweak a knob on the iPod speaker system that supplied the music. “That would be too much like working for someone, but thank you, sir.”

The woman he’d made the rose for handed him a bill inside a folded piece of paper and whispered something. He wrapped his fingers over hers, gave her a sultry smile, and kissed the back of her hand. She might have stayed, but she glanced over at Del, who was clearly waiting to speak with the great magician. She murmured something to him and walked away, leaving just Del. Just Tucker.

The group singing from the iPod chanted about “Wild Boys,” but Tucker looked all business, closing the box with a
snap
and placing it into a suitcase. He kept his back to her, his pants pulling tight across his ass with his movements. He was more filled out in the shoulders now, still slim in his hips, more . . . grown-up. Not the boy with the soulful eyes who’d realized he’d claimed her.

The memory of those words shivered through her.

He yanked up the handle of his suitcase, his back to her, ready to walk away. “Next show is in an hour.”

“You know I’m not here to watch your show.”

He tilted his head back, as though looking at the sky. “You should go.”

All she could say, the only word she could get out among the many crowding into her mouth, was, “Tuck.”

He spun around, his eyes no longer dull with apathy. “It’s Tucker. Or Mr. Black to people I don’t know.”

She took a step forward when she wanted to back away. But no, the anger sparking in his eyes was a good thing. He hadn’t shut her out. Not completely.

“Mr. Black? Your stage name? Sounds . . . appropriate.”

She needed to ease in. Blurting out that the woman who had kicked him out was missing wasn’t going to engender his help. If it could be engendered.

“Thanks for your approval.” The spark disappeared, and he turned to leave again.

She pushed herself forward, touching his upper arm. It was hard, solid.

He jerked away. “You cannot seriously be wanting to talk, to chat, to catch up on old times.”

“I wanted to do that last time. I wanted to tell you how sorry I was, how awful I felt, but you shut me out.” Emotion leaked into her words, baring her pain and sincerity.

His mouth tightened. “Because I had nothing to say to you, and that hasn’t changed. Try again in, oh, five more years.”

She had to grab his arm before he turned away again. “Tucker, please. I need—”

“You
need
?” He laughed, a harsh sound, nothing like the last time she’d heard him laugh. “You need something from me—am I getting that right?”

No, this wasn’t going to be easy at all.

“I need to talk to you.”

He leaned into her face, the scent of mint on his breath. “Well, we talked, sweetheart. And it was
really
nice. As nice as the last time we talked, seven years ago when you ran off as your mother was kicking me out.” He slapped his hand over his chest, making a hollow
thump
. “Warms me right here. Gotta go.”

He might as well have thumped her chest, too. Her fingers clenched as he walked away with that confident gait. She knew he wouldn’t look back, just like last time.

“They took my mother!” she called out.

He kept going.

She had nothing to lose. “
They
. You know who I’m talking about. They came here and grabbed her or somehow made her go with them.” She had to call out louder as he walked farther away. All the fear and agony she’d managed to stuff behind a calm façade spilled into her voice. “They’re here, wandering around Vegas. I don’t know who else to talk to. No one but you knows . . .” She let the rest drift away, unwilling to scream out about their freakhood. He turned the corner. “I need . . .” It hit her then, washing over her, warbling
you, Tucker
into a sob.

She sank to the sidewalk, her legs weak, and tried desperately to get herself under control. No, she didn’t need Tucker. She would figure this out herself. She wiped at her eyes and got to her feet. There wasn’t time for grief, fear, or self-pity. Dumb idea to appeal to Tucker. But at least she’d warned him.

“What happened?”

She started at the male voice right behind her, spinning to find Tucker. He’d flatly asked the question, as though some part of him felt obligated to query. His eyes looked just as flat, even framed by the thick, dark lashes she’d envied so.

Her heart jumped.
He’s just listening. It doesn’t mean anything.

“I got a series of text messages from her.” She dug in her purse and extracted the phone. After waking the screen, she handed it to him, not trusting herself to read them aloud.

He took the phone, his eyes narrowing as he read.

“They,” she said. “It has to be the people she came here with. Maybe even her husband. Your biological father.”

“She says it’s time to go back. Maybe she went willingly.” He held out the phone to her.

“No, she’d never do that.” She took it, afraid he’d dismiss her concerns. “She’d never leave me like this.”

“People change their minds. They leave. They disregard you, throw you away. Happens all the time.”

Damn, he knew exactly what to say to plunge a knife into her and leave her defenseless.

“I’m sorry you felt that way. It hurt me, too.”

His laugh was harsh. “Yeah, while you had your mother and a roof and food. You probably hurt for a few minutes.”

And now twist the knife.

“I was sixteen, Tucker.
Sixteen
. And what you are”—she glanced around as people passed by, lowering her voice—“scared me. I saw that beast. And when you said ‘You’re mine,’ it was the same way Elgin had said my mother was his, right before he killed my father.”

He pulled her into his arms, slamming her against his body. “You’re not sixteen anymore. Still afraid of me?”

She pushed him away. “Stop. That’s not fair.”

“So the answer is yes.” His voice lowered, eyes flashing with devilment. “As well you should be.” He held his hands aloft, flexing his fingers like claws. “Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf?”

“Don’t be an asshole.” The word shocked her, coming out as it did. She needed a tame vocabulary in her line of work, even if worse words than that applied to some of the parents. “You’re using it, aren’t you?” He was obviously comfortable with what he was now. Even, she guessed, enjoyed it. “You’re using Darkness in your act.” The words came out as a hiss.

“I don’t
eat
people in my act.” He stepped close again, running his fingers down her neck, gently drawing his nails across her skin. “I don’t tear out anyone’s throat. So don’t take that haughty tone with me. I’ve made peace with the cards I’ve been dealt.”

His fingers had drawn down to the top of her collarbone, leaving a trail of heat and tingles. She grabbed that hand but found she couldn’t let go. “You like holding Darkness.”

His eyes flicked to where she gripped his hand before meeting her gaze again. “It’s part of me. I’ve mastered it. Never once has it taken me over.” He moved so close she could feel that minty breath on her jaw, feel the brush of his barely-there stubble when his chin brushed hers. “Do you want to know what I Become, Delaney?” he whispered.

She shoved him back. “Stop. If you don’t want to give me any suggestions on how to find my mother, fine. I get that. I hurt you, and no matter how many times I say I’m sorry, it will never, ever make it better. So punish me by walking away. Don’t punish me by trying to scare me.”

He jammed his fingers into his front pockets, tilting his head. “You knew I still held Darkness. It’s not something I’m going to outgrow. Why did you come to me, of all people?”

She knew she was outsmarted, out . . .
somethinged
. No matter what she said, it wouldn’t go over well. Being honest was all she could be. “Because you’re the only one who understands. You were the only one who came to mind.” She released a ragged breath. “I know. We were all
you
had once. My mother kicked you out, and you thought I turned away from you.” She gestured, waving him away. “So go. You can have that satisfaction again.”

He didn’t turn, though. He seemed to consider her. Probably he was enjoying her pain. He would never believe how much she’d suffered, too, so there was no need to tell him now.

He gripped the handle of his suitcase, fingers flexing over the handle. “Come.”

The word hung in the air, incongruous with the fact that he was indeed walking away.

Had she heard him correctly? Maybe he’d said
Go on
, and she’d look like an idiot following him.

So she stood, her throat so tight she thought it might shatter if she swallowed.

He paused, turned, and gave her a questioning look. “Having second thoughts?”

And third and fourth, but the question loosened the grip her confusion had on her. Relief flowed now, weakening her bones. She shook her head and joined him.

She wanted to cry, to gush gratitude, but she stuffed everything and walked silently beside him. To where, she had no idea.

He led her to a parking garage, and then to an old sports car. She’d never even heard of a Datsun. He popped the hatch and tossed the suitcase in the back with a practiced move.

She didn’t wait for an invitation, getting in on the passenger side when he opened the driver’s door. Closed inside, his energy seemed to throb, pulsing through her. He started the car and turned up the heat. The interior was immaculate, the stereo a high-end brand. The rock music pouring from the speakers made it feel like she was at a concert.