Jekyll, an Urban Fantasy (15 page)

Tonight, she wouldn’t transform, her eyes wouldn’t change, she wouldn’t wake up a different person. How was she going to explain that?

Landon stopped in front of the door to Mitch’s bedroom. Why wasn’t he taking her to Hyde’s room? To Hyde’s cage? Maybe he wasn’t going to lock her up after all. She trotted up to him as he opened the door, sighing in relief. But her sigh turned to a quick inhale when she saw the cage.

There, across the room from the bed, blocking the closet, was a cage. It was smaller than Hyde’s, the metal brighter, like the wrapping paper had just been ripped off. Her very own cage. The one Mitch had ordered for her a few weeks ago. Before she’d been forced out of his life—first by him and then by The Clinic. Would there
ever
be a time when she wouldn’t be trapped?

“Wow,” she said numbly. “Fast delivery. How much extra did he pay for that?” Why hadn’t Mitch had it set up in Hyde’s room? Was it so that he could be closer to her while he slept? Or so they wouldn’t have to face each other through two sets of steel bars?

“I’m sorry it’s such a mess. I should’ve cleaned up a bit.”

“Huh?” She broke her stare and looked to where Landon was frantically scooping stuff off the floor. “You sleep here?” Her eyes darted to the bed that she had shared with Mitch.

“Yeah,” he mumbled.

“But this is Mitch’s room.”

“I know. After you disappeared, he…” He shrugged. The shrug of a man who can’t say what he’s thinking. Perhaps because it would expose someone else’s secret.

“He didn’t want to be in the same room as my cage.”
As me.

“Something like that. But I’ll sleep down the hall, so you can have some privacy until we figure this out.”

“Wow,” she repeated, unable to focus on anything other than the cage.

“I’ll just pick up my stuff.”

“Seriously, Landon? You think I give a shit about your socks? You’re about to put me into a cage. If anything, dirty laundry all over the floor will make it more home-y.”

His face flushed, and he let the clothes he’d bundled in his arms tumble onto the bed. “Yeah. Well, it’s not forever. Just until I have a chance to talk to him and figure some stuff out. Get him to calm down.”

“Well, then. The faster that happens, the happier I’ll be. So let’s—” She steeled herself and walked towards the cage. She stopped at the doorway, thankful her hands were still bound so she wouldn’t show her weakness by grasping the bars and refusing to go in.

I can do this
. It was just another cage. She’d spent her life inside of cages, situations and bindings she couldn’t escape. She’d spent her life being someone not real, someone she was trapped inside of, apart from who she really was.

Who she really was
now
. But
this
woman could handle it. This woman could find a way out.

“It’s just temporary. Until I talk to him.” Landon’s hands were on each of her arms, directing her, pressing her forward. But he wasn’t forcing her inside, as if his humanity was at war with his duty. As misdirected as it was. He was her ally, even if he wasn’t aware of it. She felt his kindness through his touch. And it gave her the courage she needed to step forward, to walk out of his grasp, into the waiting prison cell.

Thankfully, he didn’t slam the door. Instead the metal striking metal seemed subdued, as if this was happening to someone else. Someone far away from who she was.

It’s impossible for anyone to be unbiased in their own life, especially when a chick-fight is constantly going on in their heads. But the steel clang of Eden’s newest prison cell gave her a moment of clarity.

Whatever happened, however much of her was still unknown, she was stronger. And she needed that strength to help Mitch get through this. In a crisis, you use every frigging resource you have. Not accepting that Chastity was part of her would only give her another problem.
You don’t need any other problems right now. Pick your battles.
Now Mitch. Chastity later. Hopefully, when she finally had time to figure it out, she wouldn’t be humping someone’s leg.

“You’ll be fine, Eden.”

When she heard him say her name, her
real
name, she whipped around, hopeful. “You believe me?”

His eyebrows came together in confusion. “I’m not sure what to believe, who you really are. I saw your eyes in my car, before they took you. But I also saw you fight them—not like Eden would, like
Chastity
would’ve. So I don’t know what to believe. Or who that makes you.”

She remembered. One minute she’d been looking through pages and pages of Carter’s deceit, and the next her eyes had changed. Was
that
the moment? The moment both sides of her had come together to form a complete person. A completely
different
person.

“Did you tell him about it? Did you tell Mitch about my eyes?”

He nodded. “He’s a stubborn guy, though.”

“I know—I’ve met him.”

“I didn’t really know him…before they took you. Not well, anyway. But I know there must have been
some
good in him. Otherwise you wouldn’t have fallen for him. He’s still a pain-in-the-ass, but he isn’t the same pain-in-the-ass you used to know. His eyes haven’t changed, but every day…” His gaze dropped, and he backed away. “He’s not the same,” he said, as if that explained it.

She raised her bound hands. “Can I…take this off now?”

“What?” he asked, looking up again. “Oh yeah. Sure.” He stepped forward, reaching his hands through the bars.

She wiggled her hands, pulling one out of the belt that was wrapped around them, hoping he understood her message:
I could’ve gotten free, but I chose not to
. Then she unwound the other and put the belt into his hands. “It may be a bit stretched out, but…” She tried smiling. It felt odd, stiff. But she knew she needed to convince Landon she wasn’t Chastity. Then, with him on her side, maybe Mitch would start believing as well.

When she took off Alex’s jacket, she felt the syringe through the fabric and, with a slight shift of the other, the phone was in her hand. Better they find out
now
than think she was hiding it from them. She pulled the phone out and handed it to him through the bars. She was struck by an
un
-amusing irony—two weeks ago, Landon gave her the exact same phone, having found it after her fight with Jolie. It was supposed to give them answers, bring them closer to the truth. Then The Clinic took her. And now, she was giving it back. Some of their questions had been answered, but how many had been answered
honestly
?

He reached out slowly, cautiously. “Is it theirs?” Then as soon as he’d taken possession of it, his hands became a blur. He flipped it over and removed the battery before she’d even answered. “These phones are too easy to track.”

“Makes sense.” She hadn’t thought of that. She’d been too focused on seeing Mitch and confused by Fields letting her go to really think anything through. But Fields wanted them
both
to come back, so why would he need to track her? And they
obviously
knew where Mitch lived. “I don’t think that’s why they gave it to me.”

“Why else would they?” He tucked the phone and battery into his pocket.

“They want me to come back. For more tests.”

“I’m sure they do,” he scoffed.

Her lips tightened, cutting off her words before she said anything she’d regret. Like
‘At least The Clinic gave me a bigger cage’.

“So their number is programmed in here?” he asked.

“Fields—the guard who let me go—said his number was on speed dial.”

“Might come in handy. Thanks.”

“He gave me something else.” She paused, unsure she was making the right decision.

“Are you going to tell me what it is, or do I have to guess?”

“I’m going to show you this to prove I’m trustworthy. That I’m not hiding anything.” She reached into the other pocket and palmed the syringe. “It’s for Mitch. So he doesn’t transform. It’s a condensed version of what Jolie was giving him. An injectable that’s supposed to work faster.”

Landon waited with his hand out.

“You can’t let him throw it away, Landon. Do you understand? It might save his life.”

He wiggled his fingertips impatiently. “Give it to me.”

She clutched it. Maybe this had been a mistake—too much, too soon. “Please, Landon. I’m begging you. Don’t destroy it. We might need it.”

He stood there silently until she placed the syringe into his palm. Holding it up, he peering at its contents. “He’s supposed to use the whole thing?”

“I…” She felt her brow furrow. “I don’t know. I didn’t think to ask.”

He tucked it into the pocket of his jacket. “At least he’s getting good with needles and dope.”

She took in a quick breath. “What do you mean?” Eden thought of her mother. And how well that had turned out. Not well at all. For
either
of them.

“Turner uses three things to cope—the cage, fights, and morphine.”

“How much is he using?” She’d known he had it. He’d even offered it to her once. To stop her transformations. He’d told her that he hated the stuff, that it was only for emergencies. Hyde must be more dangerous for Mitch to start using.

“
Any
is too much, isn’t it? His dose is still low, but it’s more than it was a week ago.” He ran a hand over his face.

Yet another reason for him to take the serum. All she had to do is convince him to trade
one
needle for another.
That shouldn’t be too hard should it?
Especially because Mitch was such a naturally-agreeable guy.

She picked up a pillow off the mattress and sat down.
It’s good to be home
, she thought miserably. Steeling herself, she leaned over and checked underneath each corner for the cuffs. There weren’t any. So he’d remembered how afraid she was of being strapped down. Or maybe they just hadn’t arrived yet.

“Home sweet home,” she muttered.

“It’s not forever. Promise.”

“A promise made without eye-contact is like a contract written in invisible ink, Landon.”

He finally met her eyes. “Promise.”

She
knew
it was difficult for him—to be looking into the eyes of one person and be thinking she’s someone else. It was probably exactly how Mitch felt. And there might not be a damn thing she could do about it besides wear colored-contacts every day. But she was
so
tired of the lying, the manipulations. If the
only
two men she could trust would
only
trust her if she was lying, well… That just wasn’t right. She hoped the decision wasn’t a sign of the old, weak Eden coming back to haunt her. She couldn’t afford any more confusion—in
her
head or anyone else’s.

“So you’ll talk to him?” she asked.

“Yeah, I will. But…” He shook his head sadly. “Like I said, he’s not the same.”

“How often is he transforming, Landon?” she asked. What if it was already starting? The changes that Alex said would happen—that his transformations would happen more and more often, be more severe, and then Mitch might end with nowhere to come back to.

“What’s often? The
amount
of transformations isn’t the biggest problem. It’s the man he is
between
his transformations that’s more worrying. It’s like Hyde is seeping out of his pores more and more each day. And I’ve only really known the bastard for a few weeks.”

She gripped the bars, pulled her body tightly to them, feeling their chill through the thin dress she wore and on her bare skin. The one time Alex’s bullshit is proven accurate, and it ain’t good news.

“Landon, we need to help him. Please, I don’t know how much time he has left.”

Suspicion creased his brow, the corners of his mouth. “What do you mean?”

“He needs to start taking the serum again. It’s the only way he’ll be safe. And they will give it to him, if he agrees. So you and I need to
make
him agree.”

“Good luck with—”

Something crashed downstairs, and Landon rushed out without a word.

Leaving her caught, helpless, and vulnerable behind steel walls.

§ § §

Mitch was kicking the glass and other shit he’d destroyed out of the main pathway in the kitchen when Landon came bounding in like some kind of rabid gazelle. His eyes darted around the room, his breath coming fast.

“Hey,” Mitch said blandly, pretending he hadn’t just thrown the last few glasses into the wall one-by-one in a moment of unbridled frustration. It had actually given him a lot of clarity on the situation.
The person in my cage upstairs has come to drive away what’s left of my mental health. And it ain’t gonna take that long.
See? Very clear. “Is she all tucked in?”

“What the hell happened?”

Mitch looked around calmly and nudged a large piece of glass to the side with his foot. “Nothing.”

“Give me my goddamn gun back, you idiot.”

Mitch grimaced. “It’s not nice to call people names, asshole.” He tossed the gun to the cop, his hand feeling naked without the pressure of the weapon in it.
Strange
. Strange, slightly sad, and a missed opportunity. Instead of using the last of his barware to play catch with the wall, he
could’ve
used them for target practice.

“Damn it!” The cop caught it well away from his body. Then he checked the rounds in the chamber and put it back in his holster. “What’s wrong with you?”

Mitch didn’t know. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. He didn’t know what was
right
with him either, or if there was anything right about him at all. She was safe, or
would
be safe in the morning, once she came back into herself. He should be happy. But he felt…nothing.

Because he’d picked at the seam of his sanity for so long, it was beginning to unravel. And every step he took, every thought, left him with less of it, leaving a long thread of hopes, expectations, and his humanity trailing behind him.

“Nothing,” he said, pushing past Landon and going straight to the liquor cabinet. He grabbed one of the only two bottles left, not even bothering to look at the label, and took it into the dying room.

Landon followed. “She says she’s not Chastity.”