Jekyll, an Urban Fantasy (18 page)

“Oh, it’s you,” she said shyly. Her gaze and her fists lowered at the same time. Almost like she was defeated with just one look at him. “Good morning.”

“Not so much.” Why had he thought this time would be any different? Karma being what it was, he didn’t get what he wanted. Ever. And somehow he’d forgotten that.

“They’re just eyes, Mitch.”

“Just eyes? Sure. Eyes that tell me nothing has changed.” He threw his fist at the door. “Or that tell me
everything
has changed, I guess.”

“Can we talk about it? I’d hoped—”

“Don’t hope.” He focused on the bars, the symbol of who they were and everything that kept them apart. Because if he looked within to what they held, he’d see her. And he might not be strong enough to do what was necessary. Eden had always done what was right, even when it hurt. So he tried to remember the lesson. Whoever was in that cage should be protected at any cost—
by
him and
from
him. Because, somewhere inside of her, Eden still breathed. He didn’t hope, he
knew
.

“What is life without hope?” she asked.

Survival.
“You and I don’t have the luxury. Because of what we are.” Do animals hope? No. They survive. They live. Each day like it’s their last. As if tomorrow they’ll encounter a predator they can’t outrun and will be ripped to shreds before they can escape. So hope? No. Hope is a luxury animals don’t have.

“You’re wrong.” She gripped the bars in her hands. “Everyone has the right to something good. But some of us have to fight harder for it. Don’t give up on me. Don’t let the color of my eyes determine who I am. That’s not fair.”

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you that life’s not fair?” His hand rested on what was left of the doorknob.

“Don’t give up. Not on me and not on yourself. There’s a light at the end of this tunnel, Mitch.”

“Maybe.” But if there
was
, the tunnel was so fucking long, he felt like he’d been in it his entire life. And it would take three more lifetimes to get to the goddamn end.

“Wait!” she called as he slammed the broken door, putting another barrier between them. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough.

Downstairs, he forced himself to empty a heavy squirt out of the syringe before injecting himself, just enough to quell Hyde and his own, personal, entirely-too-human anguish. His system was becoming acclimatized to the drug, each time demanding a little bit more. Not healthy, smart, or productive.

Last time, asshole. After this, you’re cut off.
After it hit, Mitch felt a lot better. Not happy, but better.

Yesterday he’d escaped to go get his ass kicked before giving Landon a chance to berate him for his behavior in her cage. But Landon made up for time lost. So Mitch explained that—since
Landon
was the one who’d discharged his firearm unnecessarily—he was probably just directing his anger at
himself
onto Mitch.

Then Landon got all huffy and went to go check on her again. Bringing her food and something to drink. Nice guy. Smart guy. Acting as a buffer between the two monsters, so Mitch didn’t have to get near her.

He spent most of the day thinking, the same damn doubts circling through his mind. What if Landon was right? What if it
was
really Eden up in that cage, or the new person she’d convinced Landon she was? For Mitch, accepting that was next to impossible, but the idea brought a certain peace along with it. If she was truly a different person, then she was no longer the woman he’d fallen in love with. He could chose to see her as an entirely new person and not feel drawn to her, desperate to hear her voice, feel her touch.

Even if she still used Eden’s name and voice, she wasn’t the same. He didn’t love, had never loved, nor
would
never love, the person upstairs in the cage. Because if he loved her, after she accepted both sides of herself, then that would mean she might expect him to be able to follow suit. And he couldn’t. It just wasn’t possible. He wasn’t worthy of acceptance, of love. He wasn’t worthy of anything other than a cage.

Hearing footsteps thundering down the stairs, Mitch wondered if Landon was going to break through the wood. He stormed into the dying room, which was Mitch’s new favorite place. Because it was as far away from where
she
was as could be. Maybe he should move into the pool house.

Landon towered over him, looking so pissed off that Mitch could see a fight coming on. And it made him glad. He sat up, almost excitedly, anticipating quite a fight.

“Are you so frigging sedated that you are missing this?”

“Missing what?”

“You locked your girlfriend in a cage and practically assaulted her!”

“First off, go ask her if I did anything other than suggest a few…ideas to her. And second, she’s not my girlfriend. I don’t have a girlfriend. And even if I did, that…
woman
in there is
not
her.”

“If you let her talk, you’d notice the way she speaks, the way she thinks. She’s not Chastity. I didn’t spend
too
much time with her, but I know Chastity couldn’t go five minutes without saying ‘yes’.”

Mitch tasted blood as his teeth smacked together. “Don’t.”

“You claim to know Eden so well. But maybe you should rethink that. Think about whether the pedestal you put her on warped your perception of who she was. And
is
.”

“Don’t talk about her.” When he stood, Landon took a step backwards. But he wasn’t afraid of Mitch, even though he probably should be.

“Why are you so stupid, Turner? So frigging self-destructive? Is it
him
? Does he make you do this to yourself?”

“This is self-preservation.” His thighs ached with the need to launch him toward the cop, taking him down for fucking with Mitch’s memory of her.

“At whose expense?” Landon shouted in his face. “In case you haven’t noticed, you’re not helping. You and your issues with Eden—”

“Chastity.”

“Your issues with
Eden
are not only hurting her. They’re affecting this operation. We have bigger problems than your emotional shit.”

Mitch shoved him, but the guy held his position. The men glared at each other, only about two feet separating them. If this was going to get physical, it would be a good match-up. Landon was about the same height as Mitch, though slightly smaller in build, and the cop was trained to fight. But Mitch knew if it came down to it, he had something Landon never would—enough rage to hurt. Enough hate to kill.

His hands were fisted so tightly, they were beginning to ache. Maybe it was muscular, maybe it was spiritual—his body’s way of letting him know how much it was looking forward to war. Mitch was a weapon. Coiled so tightly, if he started something without ten guys surrounding him, ready to pull him off, it might never end.

Don’t do it, asshole. Don’t do it.
He looked up towards the sky, only seeing the ceiling—another fucking wall to close-in on him. If only something other than fate could control him. ‘Cause fate seemed to have a hell of a fucked-up plan for his life. Leading him around in circles, showing glimpses of what could’ve been if he’d been another man, a
better
man. He knew where he was going, where fate was taking him—a long, scenic tour on a violent path leading into the ground. All he could hope for is that he
only
took those who deserved it along with him. He leaned back on his heels, throwing his center of gravity off, and fell down onto the couch.

“Have you just forgotten about the people who took her to begin with?” Landon asked.

“Of course not,” he mumbled, grabbing the tequila bottle and pouring the last sip of poison down his throat. What if the cop was right? Chastity was simple, predictable. You knew just what you were getting, just what she was offering. The woman upstairs was different. “They did something to her, Landon. Something awful. Something that made her someone else.”

“How the hell do you know?” He blew out a breath. When he started speaking again, his voice was lower, calmer. “Just go talk to her. Don’t yell at her. Don’t freak out on her. Talk to her.”

No. If Mitch went into that room, he wouldn’t be able to speak. Or hear. Or believe. “That reminds me—you owe me a new door.”

“And you owe me a bullet. Let’s call it even.”

“Were you really going to shoot me?”

“You and your frigging questions. Why not try asking one that doesn’t piss someone off? You know what? Even better, why don’t you actually try
listening
for once in your life.”

Mitch looked up at him blankly. “Did you say something?”

“You’re a funny guy, Turner.” Landon rolled his eyes. “But funny isn’t helpful.”

“I beg to differ on that.” Funny was all he had.

“You haven’t listened to a word she’s said. Like she’s some kind of leper. She’s not. She’s not
that
much different than she used to be. She’s Eden with a different eye-color. If you spent one minute with her, you’d know that.”

No
. He couldn’t. To see her, to hear her speak might make him reconsider his new beliefs. No. She wasn’t Eden. Nothing about her was Eden. That theory was the only thing keeping him together.

“So you just want to leave her in the cage forever? That’s your brilliant plan?” The cop just stood there, his hands on his hips, waiting. But he wouldn’t like Mitch’s answer. Because, honestly, even
Mitch
didn’t like his answer. But it was the only one he could handle.

“Tomorrow maybe. Tomorrow or the next day.” When she was
right
again. When
he
was right again.
Fuck
. Who was he kidding? Nothing about this was
ever
going to be right again.

“No. You do this now.
We
do this now. It won’t get any easier. She’s got information, whether she realizes it or not.” He fiddled with something in his pocket. “She says they will give you the serum. Stop you from being such a gigantic asshole all the time. Stop Hyde from screwing with your head.”

“I’m not taking any more of that shit. Ever. They had fifteen years of fucking with me. I think I’ve given them enough.”

“Is it really that much worse than the shit you’re already shooting into yourself?”

“At least I know what it is. The one person you can always count on is a good drug dealer. It doesn’t make good business sense to kill your customers, not when they still have money in their pockets. ” And him being dead was the only way The Clinic was going to get her back.

“So it’s a ‘devil you know’ kind of thing?”

“Yeah. And the other devil I
know
not to trust. So thanks, but I’ll be fine without The Clinic’s ‘help’.”

“I don’t think it’s that simple.” Landon shook his head sadly. “But there’s only one way to know for sure. We’ve got a woman upstairs who’s been there, who’s spoken to them. So try pretending to be a normal human being for a half a second and talk to her. Even if you don’t believe she’s integrated both sides of her, fake it. Because if we’re going after them, we need to deal with this. And now is a shitload better than later.”

“Why are you doing this, Landon? I have nothing better to do than self-destruct, but you…You’re fucking up your life going after these people. For what? Your pride?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “My pride’s long gone.”

“Well, I hope to God you’re not doing it for me, because that is a losing game, my friend.”

“Not you, either.”

Mitch saw the fight leave him. Saw it slide away as if it had never been there, leaving a sense of loss behind, a sadness.
Crap
. He couldn’t deal with
her
tears, and she was a girl. He sure as hell hoped Landon wasn’t going to start bawling all over him.

The silence lingered, like the stench of rot. Mitch knew he should look for the cause, pull back the curtain, but he didn’t want to see what was behind it.

Oh shit.
“Alright, spill. Just let it out. But if you start ugly-crying, I am
not
wiping away your snot.”

Landon smiled lightly. “You’re a prince, you know that, Turner. A prince among men.”

“Of
course
I know that.
You’re
the one who hasn’t been keeping up. So say it already.”

“You wanna hear my sob-story?”

“No.” He got comfortable on the couch, getting ready for a long and
un
comfortable stay. “But you’re going to tell me anyway.”

Landon snorted.

“Fine.
You
talk to me, I talk to
her
. Then she can talk to you or the gardener or whoever the hell else she wants to talk to and then he can talk—”

“I get it!” Landon put his hand up. “Just shut up already. I talk to you, and you do something other than throw cheap lines at her and practically assault her. Shit, what the hell
else
was she going to say?”

The truth.
But Mitch didn’t say that. Instead he put his lips between his teeth, and motioned to Landon to get his chat on.

The cop poured himself a drink without saying a word. Then his face went through a series of sneers, grimaces, and other faces that said,
‘I don’t know how the hell to say this without coming off as a total pussy’.

Great.
Mitch started to reconsider the bullet issue—maybe he should just have Landon shoot him
now
.

“You two aren’t the first I’ve come across.”

He looked at the cop, confused. “Wait, I’m already lost. The first two what?” Then he got it.
This
was the conversation he and Landon had promised each other they’d have in the ring. Two weeks ago. The same day The Clinic took Eden. The same day Jolie tried to kill her. The same day Hyde almost ra—

Mitch swallowed. “Yeah, I…figured.”
This
was the conversation that never seemed to happen because Mitch was too fucking obsessed with her to care about anything or
anybody
else. Damn it. “I’m listening.”
Finally.

Landon nodded, not looking at him. He stared out the window instead, speaking as if Mitch wasn’t there at all. “I used to be a sergeant in Atlanta. One night a few years ago, my partner and I found a woman. She’d been…abused. Raped. But when she came around, she couldn’t tell us anything. Said she’d been asleep. No one else believed her—they thought she was nuts. I helped her because, well…because she’d been raped. And after a while, I helped her because…”