Chasing Shadow (Shadow Puppeteer) (25 page)

“Try not to say anything if you can help it,” Jose warned.

“Anyone approaches you, do not break eye contact with them,” Katrina added.

My head was buzzing with instructions as I followed them into the hall. A large part of me craved the safety of our apartment. Every step we took away from the safety of our little nest had my heart pounding. My fear stemmed from the fact that I couldn’t control what I’d done back at the lake. If Jose was afraid of me, he didn’t show it.

“Doing okay?” Jose asked.

I nodded and looked away before I could catch the open concern on Jose’s face. It felt like an ugly secret settled between us.

Jose came close to me, letting Katrina take the lead. “If you can control the spirits, you can control the Free-String Walkers. That makes you a valuable player in this game, if you decide to stay with us.”

He was asking me to stay!

My heart soared. “Yes, of course.”

The city was a mix of screams and gunshots, of pain and pleasure. This was my city until Jose moved and I’d follow him. He was my mentor. I wanted this. If the closest I could get to another human being was through vigilante work, I’d do it.

I froze when I saw the club we were heading towards. It was the same club that I provoked the man. My attacker was dead, Jose saw to that, but I was still anxious standing here. It felt like I was tempting fate and so far, luck wasn’t on my side.

Katrina and Jose sized up the crowd and I sized up the club. The large sign at the top of the building said Dutch Gamer in red blinking lights. Inside, black lights gave the dance floor a purple cast. The people waiting in line had two looks, gaudy black outfits with lots of chains and normal clothes that would be appropriate by World Congress standards. We stood to the side, but close enough to the front door that we got a few angry calls to get inline like everyone else.

A man in a well fitted suit stepped through the beaded curtain and gave us a small summoning wave.

“Girls, I believe that’s our call,” Jose said.

I paused in the beaded doorway, overwhelmed by the noise and the roving lights. The music was making areas of my brain hurt. I gave up trying to catch what Jose was saying to Katrina.

Some of the dancers weren’t bashful about their primal lusts, which added to the strong textured scents. The one scent that immediately took presence in the back of my throat was coppery.

Blood. I wasn’t as appalled by the scent as I should be.

With as crowded and dark as the atmosphere was, it was impossible to find the source. People were making room for Jose and stopping Katrina to shake her hand. I couldn’t hear anything over the music, but body language said a lot. The women were clearly fans and the men were sexually charged fanatics. Katrina kept smiling, but shook her head at clear invitations.

My restlessness grew. Something wasn’t right. I felt trapped. I didn’t dare lower my shields, but my empathy was strong and the mixed emotions found their way to me. The world was so dull here, like I was viewing shadows on the other side of a veil.

One spark of energy stood out from the rest. It brought my attention to a familiar figure at the bar. I’d recognize Rex anywhere.

The gentle pat on my arm nearly sent me flying. I spun, expecting Amber, but it was Katrina. She pointed her thumb to the other side of the dance floor where Jose was having a conversation with a man guarding the staircase.

I glanced back at the bar. Rex grew animated, obviously frustrated as he thrust a paper at the man. The annoyed bartender took the paper from him and gave it real consideration before looking up and scanning his crowd. That’s when I realized Rex handed the bartender my picture. He’d have to wait to confront me.

I followed Katrina to the staircase where Jose and the guard stood. We were given the nod and Jose led us up the stairs.

Every inch of wall was covered in different sized picture frames. The art wasn’t creepy, but something about the paintings left me unsettled. In the dim light, I couldn’t tell what it was, but my shadowy heart was thumping. I stopped at the top of the stairs and leaned in for a closer look at the picture. Maybe there was a reason all this obsessive artwork left me disturbed.

“Lord Dutch would not appreciate you breathing on his artwork,” the man said.

“Stay close,” Jose warned.

Intense pain radiated from the rooms. It clogged the air with iciness that I didn’t want to breathe into my body. He was in one of these rooms.

“Save one bullet,” Katrina whispered to me as the guys moved on ahead. She made a gun shape with her fingers and pointed towards her temple.

Suicide? Please. That last bullet would be going between the eyes of my attacker, but her fear wasn’t lost on me. This whole place was wrong and D spent four days here to buy time for another person. Please don’t let him be in a room where the pain was the strongest.

We were heading towards the end of the hall where two men guarded the double doors. Each wore bloody gauze that covered about two inches of their upper right arm. There was no screaming coming from this room, but there was a great deal of pain that lingered. It was imprinted on the atmosphere. Every hair on my body stood on end.

The men pulled the doors open, exposing a beautiful gold and white bedroom, but Jose and Katrina didn’t enter. I attempted to move ahead of them, anxious to get D and leave. Before I could step into the room, Jose grabbed my arm and yanked me back.

“Keep your mouth shut when you go in,” Jose warned.

He walked in first and I followed, letting Katrina bring up the rear. The room was decadent and royal. The low hanging chandelier with all its crystals gave the room surprising light, but my attention went to the large canopy bed on a dais. It was decadent with its golden posts and the heavy white drapes pulled open.

“Marvelous, I hardly receive willing guests,” a heavy man in a high back chair greeted us.

He was unusual in every sense. His stringy white hair was parted down the middle and fell around his chin. He was rather robust in his elementary student uniform, which consisted of a white button shirt and baby blue shorts with knee high socks and little black shoes. For a man who was possibly in his fifties, this really didn’t make him look stable.

“We’ve come to pick up D,” Jose said.

Like the hall, every available wall space was filled with pictures. Seven easels sat in the corner with started projects, and one easel sat in front of Dutch.

The wood chair moaned when Dutch shifted. “Speaking of D, would you like to see the art I’m working on?”

He pointed toward a canvas with feathers and fish that looked like…

Tattoos.

There was no denying why the hanging art made me weary. Katrina blanched and Jose’s fingers played at his gun’s hilt.

“You paint on people’s skin? Are you crazy?” The words escaped me.

Dutch’s laughter broke the silence. It was high pitched and boyish coming in giggling spurts. It was just as disconcerting as the energy that built along the surface of my skin. A sharp pain pierced my skull and I hissed, breaking eye contact with him.

Dutch stopped laughing. “Seven inches for flinching.”

He picked up two very thin blades and scrapped them together. Fear was a fine line that tickled the surface of my skin. If he wanted flesh, he’d have to kill me first.

Katrina whipped her sawed off shotgun from over her shoulder and pointed it at Dutch. “Those are going to be your last words.”

Her finger pressed back on the trigger, but Jose was just as fast, knocking her wrist downward so the bullet went straight into the floor. I held my breath, expecting a scream from down below, but if there was one; it couldn’t be heard over the music that vibrated the walls.

Dutch didn’t pull his influence from me, which left me off centered and nauseous. It made it very difficult to think.

“The four days are up. We want D,” Jose said.

For one horrifying moment, I found myself leaning over D. He wasn’t strapped down, but he held so tightly to the edge of the table that his knuckles were white. My hands were bloody and the scalpel in my hand was warm from hours of work. Dutch was projecting the image in my head.

I quickly popped that bubble before the nausea could rise from my stomach. Katrina doubled over and vomited. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one Dutch was projecting to.

“Very true,” Dutch said. “Your friend is free to go.”

“Where is he?” Katrina asked. She looked green.

Dutch pointed a heavily jeweled finger at the bed. Katrina was already making her way over, when Jose nudged me.

“Go help her.”

I was surprised at how shaky my legs were, but I made it across the room just as Katrina stood beside the bed, waiting.

“Don’t vomit on him,” Katrina said. She was probably giving herself orders, but I understood the sentiment.

I grabbed the edge of the bedspread and yanked it back exposing D’s head and the tops of his shoulders. He lay on his stomach and though his eyes were closed, I knew he wasn’t asleep. He held onto the sheets in pain.

“D,” Katrina said.

She ran her fingers over his blond curls as I pulled the covers further down. Clean bandages covered a large portion of his back, forearms and calves, but blood was starting to seep through.

“Katrina?” It sounded like D spoke through cushions. Maybe that’s what happened to someone’s voice when they spent hours screaming.

My empathy put me too close to the source to open myself for those thoughts. Pain lingered in the skin canvases. It was embedded in the room. The people who died here still remained. My shadowy heart confirmed that.

“This is the stupidest thing you’ve ever done,” Katrina hissed.

He was in such pain; I wasn’t sure where to touch him to help him out of the bed. I caught him under his arms and helped him to the edge of the bed while Katrina grabbed his clothes. I’m not a prude, but in his state, I couldn’t stand to see him naked so I averted my eyes.

The guards rushed into the room. “Helicopters are heading this way.”

I’ve never seen a helicopter before, but I knew what it was from the pictures in the books Jose wanted me to study.

“World Congress,” Katrina said. She grabbed D’s clothes off the dresser and threw his shirt at me while she tried to get him in his jeans.

“Send people in to collect my art,” Dutch ordered.

“We need to leave,” Jose yelled.

D had to be in pain, but he didn’t wince or cry as we jerked him into his clothes. He caught Katrina, slowing her rapid movements as she tried to get his shoes tied. D caught her arm and I was close enough to hear the conversation, but I couldn’t understand what he said. He spoke quickly in his native tongue.

“It’s too soon. We’re still waiting for the proper equipment,” Katrina argued, but D shook his head.

Maybe it was his pain that made his accent heavy. The only word I understood was opportunity.

“Look at you. You can barely stand. I don’t want you going anywhere without the Diablos,” Jose said.

“I travel fast on my own.” There was a feverish fury in D’s words.

The hum of rotors beating over the building stopped the conversation. The walls vibrated knocking pictures from their hooks. Jose pulled me to the floor beside Katrina and D as bullets tore through the walls, making short work of the chandelier. Glass and sparks rained down on us as the electricity blew. Bright light pushed through the bullet holes before sliding away. The moment it passed, Jose wrapped an arm around my waist and hauled me to my feet.

“We can’t let them corner us,” Jose yelled.

I barely heard him over the screaming. D ran towards the door with Katrina rushing after him. He was determined to do this. We had to go after him. I jerked from Jose, but men coming through the door with crates and lanterns slowed my process. How they could work in a moment of crisis, I couldn’t tell, but they were efficient.

“Belen!” Jose snapped at me.

My legs felt heavy and my balance off, but the moment Jose reached for me, his strength gave me hope. There was a stampede of people in the hallway trying to get down the staircase while smoke filled the air. It was chaotic.

“If we get separated, don’t run towards the forest. Find a small place and hide,” Jose yelled over the noise.

Fire was spreading and smoke clogged the air. People panicked in the hallway, pushing at each other.

Jose pulled me into a room. “Stay low and wait here for me. I’ll be right back.”

“Wait!” I tried to catch his arm, but he was gone.

I was utterly breathless and the thick smoke didn’t help. If it weren’t for the flashlights swaying over people, the darkness would be consuming. The screaming and crying didn’t calm my nerves.

Jose didn’t need to protect me. I could defend myself.

With the fire spreading overhead, the smoke grew worse and the crowd was rowdy. Jose was at the front of the horde, defending himself. I tried to push through, but the crowd was pushing back. Like a floodgate, the entrance opened and caught up in the rush, Jose was drawn down the steps.

No! No! No!

I had to catch him. If he left my sight, there was a chance I’d never see him again. I had this horrible feeling that he was going to leave me behind.

The crowd was wild. I couldn’t believe all these people came from the bedrooms. Squeezing through them resulted in scratches and a few elbows to the face, but I managed to reach the staircase. I pushed my way down as an explosion rocked the club’s foundation.

I latched onto the wall railing, holding on for dear life as wood cracked behind me. The staircase gave and people screamed around me. I felt the wind press against me as they fell. It lasted mere seconds, but my fingers ached and my arms cramped from holding so tightly. I was shoved against the wall as others climbed around me on the very narrow remaining passage of staircase.

I held on until I was the last person left. The club was empty, the upstairs was burning and the downstairs was shattered. I should move, but I stood on the staircase staring out the large hole where the wall crumbled. I had a perfect view of the street littered with bodies.