Born in Darkness Page 7

  I couldn’t offer that reassurance any longer. At least I had the cold knowledge that I’d ended Lucas Johnson to comfort me, but Rose, my sister, had nothing.

  I paid the driver and got out of the cab, then stood on the sidewalk until he drove away. The house was dark, and I wasn’t sure what I intended to do. My hubris and determination had fizzled, leaving me feeling unsure, afraid, and just a little bit guilty.

  “Get over yourself, Lil,” I whispered. Then I took a deep breath, opened the gate, and marched to the front door. At almost eleven, the neighborhood was quiet. Late, but not late enough to send me walking away, especially because I could see the light and shadows from the television playing behind the frosted glass of the front door.

  I lifted my hand, took a breath, then rapped four times on the door. No point ringing the bell—it had been broken for years.

  At first, I heard nothing. Then someone crossed in front of the television, temporarily casting the interior of the house in darkness, as well as the porch. I shivered, my skin prickling as I twisted back toward the street, suddenly certain I was being watched. Nothing jumped out from the dark, however, and no creepy golden eyes peered from behind the bushes. If something was waiting out there to drag me down to hell, at least it was polite enough to let me finish my business.

  Still unnerved, I turned back to the door, then gasped as it burst open and my stepfather’s weathered face peered out at me.

  “Wha?” Joe asked, bathing me in the scent of bourbon, the scent I’d always associated with his failure. Now it seemed like home.

  I swallowed, and fisted my hands at my sides, determined not to reach out to him. “I—I—Is Rose home?”

  His eyes narrowed, then he moved away, shouting down the hall for my sister as he lumbered back toward the den, never once turning to look at me again.

  I fidgeted in the doorway, not sure what to do, but certain a piece of my heart had just shriveled up and died. I almost walked away, afraid I’d made a mistake by coming here, then stopped as my sister stepped into view. Fourteen years old, her skin so sallow she might as well be pushing fifty. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and she moved with a heartbreaking wariness toward the door. The bruises Johnson had once put on her fragile skin might have faded, but my sister was still damaged goods, and that knowledge sat like lead in my gut. She wasn’t healed and happy. Joe hadn’t stepped up to the plate to be a good father.

  My sacrifice hadn’t worked any magic in her life.

  I told myself it had been only forty-eight hours since I’d gone out to kill Johnson, and that nothing much would have changed in such a short time. I told myself that Rose needed time to get over my death and that Joe needed time to step up to the plate. In a month or two, things would be better around here.

  I told myself that, but I didn’t believe it.

  “Who’re you?”

  “I’m . . . Alice,” I said, shoving my hands into the pockets of my jeans so I wouldn’t throw my arms around her. I waited until I was certain I could hold back the tears, then added, “I was a friend of your sister’s.”

  She cocked her head, the way she did when she was thinking. “I hardly ever met Lily’s friends.”

  I cringed, hearing the reproach, wishing I could go back and undo everything I did wrong—including the fact that most of my so-called friends had been shits. Shits who could get me cash, but shits nonetheless.

  “She talked about you all the time,” I said, truthfully. “And I wanted to come by now to make sure you’re okay. She’d want to know that you’re doing okay. Are you?”

  Her large eyes blinked, and my heart skipped in my chest, so desperate was I for good news. For the assurance that my death had made this world a better place for her. That I’d somehow managed to keep my promise.

  Instead, she only shrugged, her eyes as dead as I remembered. I’d wanted a fairy-tale ending, but no matter how much I wished for one, it just wasn’t happening.

  Johnson had left his scars, and erasing his presence had not erased them from my sister’s soul. If anything, my death piled on top had made them worse.

  The bitter comfort I’d latched onto when I’d learned that he was dead shriveled in my stomach.

  From the den, Joe hollered for Rose to shut the door. She started to, not bothering to say good-bye.

  “Wait!” I yelped. She paused, and I rattled on. “I—I’ll be at the funeral.”

  She stared at me, then nodded. Then the door clicked shut, leaving me standing like an idiot on my own front porch. “Right,” I said, but this time only to myself. I pressed my fingers against the glass and whispered a quick “I love you.” Then I squared my shoulders, lifted my chin, and walked across the beer-can-littered yard toward the street.

  I knew I should head back to Alice’s apartment, but before I could do that, I had one more errand. I turned right down the sidewalk, still haunted by the sensation of being watched. I stepped softly, listening for footfalls behind me. I heard none, but twice when I turned quickly, I saw shadows slipping over the sidewalk, disappearing into the trees and sliding down into the sewers. By the time I reached the video store, I was sweating, and my heart was tripping to an unfamiliar rhythm.

  The overly bright fluorescent lighting seared my eyeballs as I stepped inside, the posters of a dozen movies staring back at me.

  “Help ya?” Jeremy slouched behind the counter, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. I’d never been sure if that was his way of complying with the no-smoking rule, or if it was his way of saying Screw you. With Jeremy, sometimes it’s best not to ask.

  “I’m a friend of Lily’s,” I said, taking a Kit Kat bar from a candy display on the counter. “Was, I mean.”

  His eyes narrowed, and I could see the wheels in his greasy little head spinning. Jeremy did a nice business illegally copying DVDs, and I got a cut for any customers I shot his way.

  I stood there, letting him size me up. More important, letting him wonder if this new chick was there to rat him out. Trust me when I say that it’s a lot easier to get what you want if your mark thinks he’s avoiding something worse by giving in to you.

  “So?” he finally asked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other so that he teetered behind the counter.

  I casually lifted a shoulder as I opened the candy. “No big. I was hoping you could do me a favor.”

  “Yeah? What kinda favor?”

  “You got some cash on the books you owe Lil, right?”

  “Who’re you? Her accountant?”

  “If it makes you happy.”

  “I don’t owe her shit. I only work here. You gotta talk to Sean.”

  “I gotta talk to you, dickwad,” I said. “Cause I’m not talking her piddly-ass minimum-wage paycheck. I’m talking commissions. And she’s got about three seventy-five coming her way.”

  He hesitated, and I could see denial on his face. Fortunately, he made the wise choice and didn’t try to go that route. Instead, he tried diversion. “She’s dead. Dead girls don’t need cash.”

  “Her sister does,” I said.

  “So, like, what? Now you’re social services, too?”

  “If it makes you happy. But probably you should think of me as the problem that’s going to be perpetually up your ass. Because I know where you get the vids to copy, and I’m thinking Sean doesn’t have a clue.” I took one long step toward him, so that I was right there, the thin plywood of the counter the only thing separating us. “And I know your customers, too.”

  “Bullshit,” he said, but sweat was beading on his forehead.

  “She told me, dude. She told me a lot.” I put my hand on the counter, palm up. “So fork over the cash.”

  “Oh, come on,” he said, but that was all he said, because I thrust forward and caught him around the scrawny little neck, pulling him toward me until my face was right there in his.

  “You listen to me, you little shit. You open up your wallet. You give me what you’ve got. And if it’s not three seventy-fiv
e, then you get the rest of the cash to me or to Rose by the end of the week. Otherwise, we’ll have to have another chat. And honestly, I don’t much like talking to you.”

  “Feeling’s fucking mutual,” he said, lurching back as I let him go, then smoothing his shirt as he glared at me.

  “Now.”

  For a second, I thought he was going to hesitate again. And, honestly, I don’t think I would have minded. Because I really was in the mood to kick some ass. But then he got wise and pulled out his wallet. He laid two C-notes on the counter, then followed that up with a fifty, a twenty, and six ones.

  “And the rest?”

  “I’ll take it to Rose,” he said. “I woulda, anyway. Kid needs a break.”

  “Right,” I said. “You’re all about spreading the good feelings and sharing the wealth.”

  “Damn straight,” he said. “Not like I had a chance to say nothing with you going all Mojo Bitch on my ass.”

  “Rose,” I stressed, deciding to ignore the bitch comment, especially since it seemed rather accurate. “Not her dad.”

  “I got it,” he said. “Now, get the hell out of here.”

  “Pleasure talking to you, too.” I slid a dollar back toward him. “For the candy.”

  I started to walk away, then stopped. “You touch her bike?”

  He hesitated, and I knew he’d tried to. I’d locked it up good, though, before I’d caught the bus out to Lucas Johnson’s shit-hole of a house.

  “Never mind,” I said.

  “I’m gonna get someone to cut the chain off,” he said. “Make a new key. Ain’t no sense it sitting back in that alley with no one to ride it.”

  “You’re right, Jeremy,” I said. “That doesn’t make any sense at all.”

  I took two bites of candy as I crossed the store, knowing he was watching me. Red stickers plastered the back door, warning that alarms would sound if I opened. I pushed. No alarms. So much for truth in advertising.

  My decades-old Triumph Tiger was still parked there, a heavy chain around her. I didn’t usually chain the bike up, but I also didn’t usually keep it parked behind Jeremy’s place. I’d locked it up tight Saturday night, though. Whether out of extra caution or premonition I didn’t know. I was glad of my forethought now, though, and I reached under the fender for the magnetic metal box. It held two keys, and I had the chain off the bike in no time.

  I straddled the machine, the bike warm and familiar between my legs. I’d just slipped the key in the ignition when Jeremy peered out the back door and into the alley. “Ain’t your bike,” he said.

  “It is now. You got a problem with that?”

  He considered it, probably weighing how much he could sell the bike for against the long-term income stream on his counterfeit DVD operation. I turn him in for that, and the door shuts on his little retirement fund.

  Jeremy might be slow, but he’s not stupid, and after a few moments of staring and pondering, he nodded, then disappeared back inside, the door slamming shut behind him.

  I revved the throttle, relishing the sweet purr of the engine. “Come on, baby,” I said, then kicked it into gear and peeled off down the alley, only to careen sideways to a halt as someone familiar stepped from the shadows in front of me.

  Clarence.

  Well, hell.

  10

  “Looks like we’ve got a few issues to work through,” Clarence said as soon as I’d pulled off the road and killed the engine on the bike.

  “I didn’t break any rules.”

  “You were supposed to stay away from your sister.”

  I shook my head. “No way. I said I wouldn’t tell her the truth. And what the hell are you doing spying on me, anyway?”

  “I like to think of it as protecting our investment. Making sure the agreement we reached was solid.”

  I held up my hands. “I totally abided by the letter of the law. Didn’t step off the path even a millimeter, and you know it.”

  His lips pressed together, and I watched as he pondered my words, irritation boiling below the surface. I was right—technically, I was absolutely right. But as for the spirit of the thing . . .

  Well, maybe a micromillimeter.

  “Nice of you to admit it,” he said.

  “I had to see her,” I said simply. It was the truth, and I hoped it was good enough.

  Clarence cupped his hand thoughtfully over his mouth and stared so long at me I began to feel antsy under the inspection. Finally, he shook his head. “You gotta be smarter than that, pet. You’re our ace in the hole, remember?”

  I nodded, wondering what that had to do with anything.

  He released a long-suffering sigh. “What do you think’s gonna happen to little Rosie there if some badass demon figures out who you are? You think he’s gonna try to take you down?”

  “Maybe,” I said, but my voice had lost some of its edge. I had a feeling I knew where this was going.

  “Yeah, maybe is right. But if he’s a smart demon—and if he knows you got a kid sister out there, someone you’re pining over, someone you love—whaddya think he’s going to do then?”

  I shook my head, not wanting to go where he was leading me.

  He mimed a knife across his throat. “And not you, pet. Her. You hang with her. You talk with her. You let that girl into your life, and you are putting her life in danger.” He spread his hands wide, then shrugged. “That’s just the way of it, and unless you got some pieces missing up here, you know I’m right.” He tapped his temple and looked at me solemnly.

  After a moment, I nodded, because, dammit, I couldn’t argue the point. Rose had been through hell once. I wouldn’t be responsible for putting her through it again.

  But this wasn’t forever. I’d fight the demons. I’d make sure the gate stayed closed. And then, by God, I’d get my sister back.

  In the meantime, though, I had a pissed-off frog staring me down. “Am I in huge trouble?”

  He cracked a small smile. “No, kid. Guess I shoulda known you wouldn’t stay away. That’s who you are. Loaded with fluffle.”

  I lifted my brows. “Yeah. I’m fluffy.”

  He snorted, then shoved his hand deep inside his overcoat. “Got you a little something. Thought it might take the edge off.”

  “Yeah?”

  He passed me a small, wrapped package. “Open it,” he said, gruffly.

  I peeled the paper back to reveal a plain white box, the kind in which necklaces come wrapped at Christmas. I looked curiously at him, then lifted the lid and made a little gasping sound when I saw the gold chain and heart-shaped locket.

  “Took it off your body,” he said. “Thought you might want it.”

  I nodded, unable to force words past my dry mouth and throat. I’d worn the necklace on Saturday, when I’d gone out to kill Lucas Johnson. It was a piece of my past, a part of my personal history, and something I’d never expected to see again.

  I pried it open with one of my manicured nails and found the familiar, tiny picture of me and Rose, arm in arm, sitting on the swing on our front porch. “Thank you,” I said, slipping the chain over my neck and tucking the locket under my shirt, close to my heart. “This means . . . everything.”

  “Yeah, well. You know.”

  “Won’t the police miss it? I mean, I’m a murder victim, right?”

  “They might,” Clarence said. “But that’s not our problem, is it?”

  I couldn’t help the grin. “Why, Clarence, you devil. You’re a bit of a rule breaker, too.”

  He snorted, then shuffled his feet. “Let’s keep that to ourselves, okay?” But whether he meant his bad-boy propensities or the locket itself, I didn’t have time to ask, because he pulled himself up to his full—albeit short—height, then cleared his throat. “There are a few rules that are inflexible. But because we haven’t covered them yet, I’m going to give you a pass. This time.”

  “And we’re talking about what?” I asked, trying to sound innocent. Because I’d made an end run around two r
ules this night, and I had a feeling that telling Deacon that Alice was taking up killing demons was going to turn out to be an even bigger no-no than visiting my sister.

  “The demon,” he said. “I got sources, kid, and they tell me that you took out the Grykon nice and neat.”

  I blinked, completely thrown for a loop. “The ‘Grykon’? You mean the Hell Beast in the alley? I broke a rule doing that? Are you schizo? You’re the one who told me to! Kill it; don’t give it a headache. That’s what you said, right?”

  “Killing the Grykon’s a big ticky mark in the good column. Absolutely. It’s the circumstances that we got some problems with.”

  “Oh.” That thudding sound I heard was the other shoe dropping. Apparently, I hadn’t dodged the Deacon bullet after all.

  “You’re supposed to be working alone, kid. So what am I doing hearing that someone was with you when you killed the critter?” He paused, and even though he was a full head shorter than me, right then it seemed like he was the one looking down on me. “Who was it? Who was with you?”

  “You don’t know?” The possibility was so startling that I completely glossed over the fact that my frog friend was royally pissed. “You don’t keep some sort of constant watch? Like God looking down from heaven? A little handheld video device tuned to me? All Lily, all the time?”

  He snorted. “Wouldn’t that be handy? But no. You’re pretty much on your own, unless I get a whim to follow you around town.”

  “But you just said—”

  “Sources, kid. I said I got sources. And they told me the general drift; now I want the down and dirty. So let me ask again—who finally took the demon out?”

  “Maybe I did.”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  Couldn’t argue with that. “Someone else was in the alley,” I said, trying to think softly. “But it’s not like I revealed my secret identity. I still have my supersecret decoder ring, I promise.” I kept my face bland and hummed “Row, Row, Row Your Boat” in my head, hoping to drown out any errant thoughts even more. Deacon had pushed my buttons but good.