Darkside Sun (26 page)

His back bowed, and breaths gurgled out of him. Foam spilled over his lips, red with blood, and he screamed.

I clutched at him, my stomach knotted. My instincts urged me to get the dagger in the chamber, so that’s what I’d do.

Chapter 30

Remy and Marcus rushed over, staring down at Asher and the bloody foam spilling out of his lips.

“Stay away,” I screamed and covered his shaking body with my own while they shouted something I didn’t listen to. I thought of the chamber. Old stone, artifacts, the altar decorated with runes. Layers of the Shift piled up around me.

Eyes shut, I clung to him. “I’ll fix this. You’re going to be okay.” I kept talking to him, but only choked sounds spilled from his lips, sounds of pain.

I opened my eyes as the other layers of the Shift faded away, leaving us on top of the altar. “Don’t you dare die on me,” I said.

Inside my head, Izan said,
The dagger is on the shelf behind you. Make cuts as if you were going to taste him, over his heart and one on his forehead. You know what should be inside his body. As you pushed out the wraith, you will push out the poison. Now, child, hurry!

I rolled off the table and searched the shelves full of old books and artifacts until I found the obsidian dagger. Hands shaking, I raced back and stood over him. After setting the dagger on the altar, I ripped his shirt open as he thrashed.

“Lie still, Asher. Can you hear me? I don’t want to cut you too deep.”

A gurgling scream tore open the silence. I climbed on top of him, straddling his waist, one hand against his head to keep him still. With the other, I took the knife and cut him just over his heart, the slice going jagged with his sudden jerk. After making a small nick on his forehead between my fingers, I sat up and stuck the tip of the blade into my palm. The pain was sharp and immediate, but I didn’t hesitate before doing the other one.

Blood trickled from my cuts as I put the knife down and pressed my wounds over his. Nothing happened. What now? Oh, please!

Just as panic threatened to overtake me, Izan filled my head with words in some language I wasn’t sure my voice box could form. But I repeated them aloud just fine as he told them to me. My energy came spilling out with the last word. Wind escaped me with a gale-force roar, as if I was the eye of some fantastic storm. I directed that force into Asher, let myself fall into him as if he were an endless drop. Free falling, I tried not to see his memories as I reached into every corner of his body. I could taste the poison, and it burned like acid on my tongue.

His screaming had turned into something heart-stopping, the sound of a dying man. I wrapped myself around his soul, keeping it in him while I pushed out everything else. Something warm oozed by my knees where my physical body still straddled his. Was it blood? No, poison. I was pushing the poison out of his body, forcing it through his skin.

A wave of exhaustion rippled over me, but the toxin wasn’t gone yet. My resistance to his soul and what lay within in it came down, exposing his memories to me. I watched him standing over his mother’s grave as a young man, maybe sixteen or seventeen. He didn’t cry; he was … relieved. Nothing more could hurt her. He’d done all he could to protect her, and he was glad she would never know what he’d become—an enforcer for the mob, a hired gun, a monster who couldn’t control his own rage. And immediately after his relief came a giant pill of shame for being glad she’d died young of cancer.

I watched him standing over the bodies of men he’d killed for no good reason other than the boss told him to. His regret and anguish over it all burned through me, forced a cry from my lips. There was more there, more darkness in his past if I could just get a little deeper into him, could just fight past his giant walls … but everything faded out as if he’d buried his secrets so well he’d almost forgotten them. Color bled back into his life as I followed him through his first days in the Machine. The memories came hard and fast, then, like a tap turned on too far, and I didn’t know how to shut it off. All about me. My power had called through the Shift to him, only him. He’d been afraid at first, that I was a wraith trying to lure him out.

He watched Dad and me cuddled on the couch watching hockey by firelight, watched me playing outside in the rain, riding my bike to Evangeline’s place so we could play. All with a smile, a light heart. Seeing him so content was like tasting a little piece of heaven. Why did watching me make him so happy when he treated me like a leper most of the time?

Something slammed into the part of my soul that had gone inside him. I ended up on my back, staring up at the ceiling from the floor of the chamber, where the runes faded from bright blue to flat gray as my connection to Asher weakened.

He lay unconscious on the table, but he was in there, and he was pissed, shoving the last connection I had to him out. What didn’t he want me seeing in his head? He’d been desperate to boot me. His urgency had scorched me on the inside, like inhaling too close to a flame.

“Ouch, that freakin’ hurt,” I moaned, rolling over to rub my head where it had cracked against the floor. “I didn’t mean to go snooping, you jerk.” Climbing back to my feet, I limped back to the altar. “Nice thanks I get for saving your ass.” Just to be sure that wasn’t a premature statement, I checked his pulse and found it strong.

As my heartbeat came down out of its Mach 5 pace, a few realities hit me. Someone had tried to kill Asher tonight, which meant it was most likely someone who’d gone with us. Probably someone who didn’t want him to be able to help me with the wraith.

Had I seen any of them near him? Marcus had been with him, but knowing how keenly aware of his surroundings Asher was, I couldn’t imagine anyone slipping poison into his booze while he held it. Maybe someone bribed the bartender?

Kat and Taka were at the top of my list. But how would I prove it? And why would Kat kill someone she clearly lusted after? Taka. It had to be him.

I gazed around the room with my new eyes. Everything had a sharper edge, brighter color, more obvious texture. Was this how Sophia saw the world? Did I have a soldier’s eyes? I gave that thought the bum-rush. Couldn’t change it. Didn’t matter. I still had a job to do, a traitor to catch, and my mother’s stuff to go over. Izan seemed to think my little wraith-exploding trick would force the Misgiver to reveal him or herself. I agreed. Only wished I knew what to do once that happened.

Asher’s chest rose and fell a little easier as he lay there looking like a murder victim, blood smeared all over his chest and head. Too tired to really think about where we were going, I took his hand, too cool to the touch for my liking, and thought,
“Home.”

Sagging with exhaustion, I had to close my eyes while the faint images of other realities overlaid the chamber. A few moments later, Asher’s body
thunked
to the floor beside me. I opened my eyes to a room I didn’t recognize. It wasn’t a log cabin, but it had that feel to it. It was more of a craftsman-style open concept with exposed beams above, reaching across the space that remained open all the way up to the peaked ceiling. The walls were all off-white around the beams. A giant triangular window allowed a view out to a small lake turned golden under the sunset.

Holding my breath, I listened. Nothing. Who lived here? A polished, open kitchen took up the right side of the room. On the back of one of the heavy wooden chairs around the harvest table, a jacket hung. A man’s jacket, something leather. I inhaled the scent of the house, somehow familiar. It was too backwoods-country to be Asher’s, even if it did smell sort of like he did.

Keeping an eye for rifts in the ceiling and someone who might jump out and say “boo,” I knelt by Asher’s still body and pressed my fingers to his pulse. Still steady and strong, but he was freezing.

I located the bathroom down a wide hallway off of the kitchen. A little snooping turned up some face cloths, a stack of fluffy white towels folded identically and stacked with precision, and a beautiful sink that appeared more like a crystal bowl on top of a piece of antique furniture than a regular vanity counter. Maybe it
was
Asher’s place? Nah. I pictured him as more of a penthouse apartment kind of guy with modern decor, all stainless steel and cold surfaces, not warm country living.

I needed to stop gawking at the scenery, clean Asher up, and tuck him in somewhere while I thought about what to do next. Something about the place made me feel safe. Why had my thoughts of home brought me here? Questions for days when I wasn’t treading shark-infested waters. Or traitorous bastard-infested dance clubs, as it were.

I wet a cloth and returned to him. A bit of grunting helped me turn him onto his side and peel off the ruined suit jacket and blue shirt. Thick yellow gunk covered his skin. Was that really the poison? I washed it off, careful not to get any on my hands. Noticing his pants were also gross with it, I had a little debate with myself about how much he’d freak if I took them off. I shrugged. He’d get over it.

Flutters invaded my stomach as I unzipped him and tugged the dress pants down. Once I had them off—which took some doing considering he was dead weight—I realized his clingy boxers were covered, too. I took one of the dry towels I’d brought with me, draped it over him, and tugged off the undies, too. My hormones had thankfully retreated behind my need to take care of him.

After several trips to the bathroom for more washcloths and towels, I had him free of blood and yellow gunk, and his cuts bandaged.

I searched farther down the hallway, beyond the bathroom, and found three more doors. The first took me into a dark bedroom. His scent slammed into me like a wall of yum. Well, I’d be damned. It was his house. All that yacking about my small town, and here he was, living in the middle of nowhere in what amounted to a fancy cabin. Did others have homes away from the facility? Before now, I thought they all lived in the gray hallway of the many doors.

The comforter wasn’t plaid, but a pure white cover over what appeared to be a down duvet. The bed had been made with military precision, the white sheet tucked neatly around the mattress. The hardwood floor gleamed. Even the pillows were arranged just so.

A quick check of the dresser confirmed my theory: he color-coded his socks. White on one side, each pair folded neatly together, and then gray, and all of the other colors in increasingly darker shades until it got to black on the opposite side. Not a wrinkle to be found. He ironed his freakin’ socks.

Shaking my head, I went back out to the living room where he lay naked and helpless. The sight of him tugged on my heart.

Some days I thought he hated me. Others, like in the chamber and back in the alley, he stared at me as if I were the sun and moon. Would the real Asher Green please stand up? And why did watching me and my dad make him feel happy? I didn’t get him at all and probably never would.

He’d likely have a fit that I’d found out his little secret, that he liked the country just fine. No way he meant for me to find his place. Why did I? Probably another thing I’d never understand. Maybe Izan had brought us here.

I shucked my shoes and returned to Asher, squatted by his head, and heaved him up to a sitting position, clamping my arms around his chest under the armpits. Thanks to all my weightlifting, I managed to drag him down the hallway to the bedroom. Barely. It only took a heap of sweat, swearing, repositioning his towel three times, and grunting to get there, and about a whole damn hour, too. Once I made it to the side of the bed, I knew I’d never be strong enough to get him up on it.

I took the cover off the bed and tucked it around him, and then positioned a pillow under his head. Crap, he was cold. Could he still die even though the poison was gone? A hot bath would do it, but I’d never get him into the tub myself. Thanks to Girl Guides, I knew the best way to warm a body up, but I so did not want to do it. If I’d been able to trust any of the other sentinels, I’d have gone to get them. Sophia would probably do it if I asked, but then he’d just get mad at her instead of me.

Sighing, I turned him on his side, slipped under the covers, and spooned along the back of him. It would have worked better if I’d taken the dress off. Yeah, so not happening. Since my energy was locked up tight again, his was quiet, and I no longer believed touching him would kill him, I pressed my face into his nape and inhaled him without worry.

The smell of sickness remained, but underneath it was all him. Leather and spice, fresh night, and a touch of sweet alcohol. I put my arm around him, my palm pressed against his tight abs. God, he felt so good. Bit by bit, my body relaxed against his. There was something right about touching him that way. Taking care of him. He’d never had anyone do that for him, and I liked that I could.

Having my hands on him ranked number one on my tactile wish list, even while containing my power that liked to lick him up and down like a lollipop. I’d never had chemistry like that with anyone, but chemistry only worked if it went both ways, and I wasn’t sure what he felt toward me. My baking soda needed some vinegar to finish the reaction, but he was more like dynamite. If I pushed him too far, he’d go off and …
boom
.

Chapter 31

My own snoring broke the sweet sleep I’d been enjoying. Sunlight warmed my closed eyelids. Birds tweeted their morning song outside, the sound I’d woken up to every day of summer during my years at home. Funny, I had no trouble remembering that.

I snuggled farther into my flannel comforter, drawing in the scent of Dad, of the cabin. The fabric bunched up in my hands brought a smile to my lips. My baby blanket, its worn silk edges better than any teddy bear could have been. I brought it to my face, rubbing the satin over my nose.

Stretching my arms up, I cracked a lid and found my poster of The Castle, Chichen Itza staring back at me, only it appeared brighter in color, and I noticed far more detail than ever before because of my new eyes, whatever color they were. I studied the poster, smiling for a moment before I noticed the unfamiliar white wall behind it.

Pulse leaping, I jerked up in the bed. Not my bed. Not my room. It was too neat, with only a single dresser in the corner. Only the poster, the comforter, and the pink blanket were mine. This wasn’t my dorm room. He kept my stuff? But Sophia said he’d burned everything.

That lousy lying thief. A smile grew across my lips. My heart sang as I hugged my blankets.

I glanced down into my cleavage showing through the red dress Sophia had made for me. Ruined, unfortunately, by spots of yellow gunk and dried blood. I hoped she wouldn’t be too mad.

The night came back in a rush. The club. Xavier. Asher! My first attempt to get out of bed ended with me tangled in green plaid. Kicking free, I threw open the wooden door and stared at the hallway.

How had I gotten here? Asher’s bedroom was the door nearest the bathroom, and I’d come out of the one at the end. Had he woken up and carried me? I beamed at that, before remembering who I was talking about. If he’d have done any carrying, I’d probably have woken up in the lake after how pissed he’d been that I’d once again gone prancing around in his memories. I must have stumbled to the room at some point during the night.

What had happened to everyone else? Did they know he was all right? I needed to get word to Sophia so she wouldn’t worry. First, I needed to find Asher and make sure he wasn’t passed out in a pool of his own drool. No need for him to wake up grumpier than when he’d gone to bed.

I went down the hall and checked his bedroom first. If he’d slept in the bed, he’d remade it after he got up. Even the floor showed no signs that we’d lain there together, him cradled in my arms. A hot flush ran up my face as I remembered his tight butt pressed up against my front.
Head in the game, Addy.

After listening for him and hearing nothing, I crept into his room farther and had a better look around. No pictures, no personal items, not a thing but the dresser, a nightstand, and the bed. Drowning in curiosity—and guilt for what I was doing—I pulled the nightstand drawer open, desperate to know more about him.

The drawer held only two items, a gun and a cell phone. My phone. I snatched it out and flipped it open. It would have my name in there, wouldn’t it? Or Dad’s? There were several new text messages from me to Dad that I hadn’t sent, highlighting the archeological dig we were supposed to be on. Asher had been relaying my fake adventures to Dad? Why would he do that? It even sounded like things I’d write.

My knees folded, and I squatted next to the bed, my head too heavy with thought to hold up a moment longer. I didn’t believe for a second he gave a flying leap if Dad worried about me or not. Would he? If not, then why do it?

A giant ball of relief unrolled in my center. Dad wasn’t worrying. Thank the stars for that. Or, apparently, Asher.

Remembering the wraiths and the Misgiver still on the loose, I closed the phone. Maybe Asher had been right to take away my memories. For now. Not that I’d admit it to him.

I thought about keeping the phone, but didn’t know how to explain that I’d gone through his drawers without him snapping, so I put it back. A strange, humming warmth surrounded my heart over the day’s discoveries. He’d always been mysterious, but I suddenly felt like everything I knew about him was wrong, a giant lie he’d concocted to … what? I had no idea, but I needed to understand him.

A rich, delicious smell engulfed me when I emerged into the living room/kitchen combo, but still no grumpy sensei. He’d been poisoned, probably felt like a giant bag of dog turd, so where had he gone? And what smelled so yummy?

I needed to feed my snarling stomach, and after that, since I had no clue what to do about the events of last night, I’d concentrate on the only sure path I could think of. There were things in those books and artifacts I needed to look at.

Sunlight blazed through the humongous windows. I stepped up to the largest of them and stared out at the sparkling lake. Something rippled in the water right before Asher broke through the surface, shoving his soaking hair back from his face. Water ran in rivers down those magnificent arms, over the bandage on his chest. He climbed out of the water onto the dock in a pair of black swim trunks. The sun hit him just right, turning him into bronze and shadows. My breath hitched, and as if he’d felt me gawking at him, he glanced up and caught me in the act.

I rushed back to the bedroom before he could come inside and chew me out. I had no doubt he would. For something. We all needed our hobbies, I just wished his didn’t include making me feel small.

Behind the closet door, I found my clothes hanging there appearing pressed and tidy, all but my favorite plaid shirt. In the dresser, I found my jeans, tanks, undies, and sock-monkey socks. My mind felt bruised as I tried to figure out why he’d kept my stuff. He was so adamant that he break me of my plaid habit and my sentimental things, but he’d kept them for me. In his house.

Did the tin man really have a heart in that spectacular chest of his? I couldn’t reconcile his actions with his typical coldness. It made no sense.

I grabbed my favorite faded jeans, thick gray socks, a black tank, and a red plaid shirt, before speeding back to the bathroom and locking myself in. Avoiding the mirror, I hastily pulled on my clothes.

Some rummaging in his cabinets turned up my toiletries bag under the sink next to his. Huh? A girl’s stuff only made it into a guy’s house if they were living together. Why hadn’t he brought it all to the facility?

My nerve wasn’t strong enough to shower knowing he could walk in at any moment, so I settled for a good washing, brushed my teeth and hair, my focus never rising above the counter.

I weaved my hair into a braid over my shoulder, gathered it in a band from my bag, and stood with my hand on the doorknob, unable to open it. Why was I so nervous? Because I might not be a sentinel and he’d be disappointed? Or because he might have been thinking about kissing me in the alley? Ridiculous. We had stuff to do, things to get, books to read.
An Asher to unravel.

A knock came on the other side of the door. I squealed and jumped back.

“We need to talk,” he said through the wood.

“Ya think?” I asked between frantic breaths.

The knob jiggled. “Unlock the door, Addison.”

My real name. Big trouble. “Just go away, and I’ll be out in a second. I’m … I’m not decent.” I did not want him in the bathroom with me.

He half sighed, half growled. Something clinked. Keys, maybe? The lock clicked open a second later, and he barged in. At least he’d put on jeans and a soft blue button-down, though his hair remained gloriously wet and slicked back from his face that still sported a little bandage from where I’d cut him and a black eye.

“What are you doing?” I crossed my arms and faced the shower stall at the far end, glad I was fully dressed in my jeans and plaid. “Barging in on a girl in the bathroom is just as bad as asking her dress size or her age. Major faux pas, sensei.”

“Stop calling me that. It’s Asher.” The door clicked shut. “Look at me.”

I shook my head.
No way, nuh uh.
“No.”

“Have your eyes changed?”

I gave a half-hearted shrug. “Maybe. I think so.” Groaning, I tossed up my hand. “Hell, I don’t know, I’m afraid to look, is that what you want to hear?”

“Let me see them.” His voice had gone quiet and gentle.

Tension crawled over my shoulders. “No.”

“Come on, we’ll look at them together.” His heat reached me before his hands rested gently on my arms, using them to position me in front of the mirror.

I kept my lids firmly crimped together. “We don’t have time for this.” Straining against his arms that slipped around my waist, I growled my frustration. “Let me go. I need to look at those books and figure out what to do next. And we need to figure out who tried to whack you. You’re welcome for me saving your butt, by the way.”

He pulled me back against the hot line of his body. Holy freakin’ hell. Even though our skin wasn’t touching, a surge of energy pierced me, melted me against him. I sighed as pleasure cored into me, hollowed me out, and made space for more. My bones seemed to have been replaced with limp noodles.

“We’ll talk about everything later, but I need you to open your eyes now,” he said. “Please.”

Huh
. That please actually sounded genuine, heartfelt. Against the voice screaming at me not to look, I lifted my lids. It took me a second to focus on my image in the mirror. I moved forward, and he let me go. The blue was bright, like a spring sky with a little cloud cover. That wasn’t what started the tears spilling over my lashes, though. The starbursts weren’t jade, but the strangest shade of violet I’d ever seen, somewhere between deep violet, fuchsia, and purple.

A sound from Asher drew my gaze to his reflection. He gaped at me, but I didn’t take any time to figure out if it was horror or disappointment.

I bolted from the room. Through the living room. Out the front door and down the wooden stairs that took me to the dock. Too bad I couldn’t outrun the image of my freak eyes that had burned into my mind.

Shaking, I collapsed on the wooden decking and hugged my knees. I would not fall apart. I would not think about my reflection in the mirror, how it wasn’t me staring back, or how Asher would probably never look at me as anything but a mutant and a failure ever again. Or how everything I had of Dad’s was gone from my face. Or that I didn’t have any idea what I’d become … or if I was even still human.