Jekyll, an Urban Fantasy (19 page)

He loved her
. Mitch could see only one of his eyes, but what he saw in it was pain and regret. “Shit, man. I’m sorry.”

“Long time ago. Another life, so-to-speak.” He blinked and stretched his neck. “Anyway, eventually I figured out that she lived on the streets after she leaving a facility in Florida called ‘The Clinic’. Of course, I thought it was some kind of psychiatric hospital, and she didn’t correct me. Just an occasional obtuse comment about her life before moving to Atlanta.” He swept his arms around. “Sunny South Florida. But she didn’t want me looking into it, like she wanted to forget that part of her past. Live a semi-normal life with me. But after she died…because of the
way
she died, I moved here and started looking. Hadn’t found anything substantial enough to move on.” His lips tightened. “And now I do. And I will move on it. All the way to the truth.”

“Do you believe what”—Mitch pointed up—“is telling you? That they want to help me?”

“I don’t know what I believe anymore,” he grumbled. “When Tara’s—that was her name, Tara. When she was her…dark side, she told me some pretty messed-up shit. But she lied a lot.”

Just like Chastity.

“So,” Landon continued, “is The Clinic here to help? I don’t know. I suppose it makes a certain kind of warped sense, doesn’t it? Tara didn’t seem scared, like they’d come looking for her. She sometimes talked about the medications they gave her, though. Sometimes she wished she had them, and other times she wished she’d never taken them. She was more afraid of
herself
.”

“What happened to her? Did she ...?” There was still so much they just didn’t know.

“It looked like a mugging gone bad in a part of town where muggings just didn’t happen. Like the girl in the alley that Jolie murdered. And there was nothing. A totally clean kill. But it just felt…personal. Like the perp had
known
her.”

“I’m sorry.”

Landon shook it off and twisted in his seat. “She was fine most of the time, by the way.”

“What?”

“She was fine. Normal. Human. Whatever you wanna call it. She changed a lot, but she was okay.”

“Did she have a regular cycle?”

“I don’t think so. She was always afraid she’d change on a night she wasn’t expecting to. On the day before she died, we went cage shopping—that’s how I knew about yours.” He chuckled. “How many women have boyfriends who’ll go shopping for cages with them?”

“No idea, but I know
I
sure can’t find one,” Mitch joked.

A tear ran down Landon’s cheek, right into his smile. “I wish it was kinkier than it sounds, but after she showed me the first time, I cuffed her to her bed every night. I wasn’t allowed to stay though. She didn’t want me to see her dark side after that one time. She…um…couldn’t control her impulses and was afraid she would do or say something that would scare me.”

“Did she?”

“Ever say something that would scare me? I told you she didn’t want me to stay.”

“I know. And I also know that you
did
stay. Maybe not every night, but some. You loved her, right?”

“Right,” he mumbled. Then he looked down at his drink, circling it so the burnished liquid stretched towards the top of the glass, wanting to escape. “Yeah, I loved her.
Both
of her.
All
of her.”

The men were silent, Landon probably reliving that portion of his past, and Mitch thinking about the present. He didn’t want to think too much about the future because he was afraid of what it might bring…to all of them. The only sure-thing was that he’d take down The Clinic—
that
idea was keeping him alive.

At whose expense?
Landon’s question buzzed in his head like the mosquito that circles you, landing briefly, and no matter how many times you swat it away, it always comes back. Eventually, the point comes when you realize that until it bites, gets its fill of you, it will never leave you alone. And so you let it. But this was
far
more than one mosquito. This was a swarm. And Mitch knew that he if faced the truth of it, there was a big chance he’d end up sucked dry.

At whose expense?
Everyone’s.

“Okay,” Landon said, wiping his eyes roughly. “I showed you mine. Now it’s your turn.”

“No, thanks.”

“Not optional, dude. Tell me about your wicked stepmother or the old lady you lost your virginity to. Something.
Anything
.”

Mitch stared at him for a while, wondering what he could possibly say that would come even close to what Landon had shared. Something
that
personal. “Alright, cop, you asked for it. Tat-for-tits, or whatever.” Then he cleared his throat, readied his confession. “You know what my worst problem is? It’s not her, or who she is.” He didn’t look at Landon, just saw his pitying expression out of the corner of his eye. “It’s
me
.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because…” He wet his lips, wondering how to say all of the things he was thinking. That he was weak, that he kept fucking things up, that he couldn’t trust himself. But like he’d told
her
—it was what was behind the words that told the story. And the only thing he could trust were actions. Or
re
actions. And that was the biggest problem, wasn’t it? His reactions.

So when he spoke, it wasn’t pretty. “Holding him down is torture.” The words only a garbled up message, a symbol of everything that wasn’t good enough inside of him.

“Hyde?”

“Is there
another
demon I should know about?”

“Nah, sorry. Keep talking.”

“I feel him constantly. Sometimes it’s like he’s far away, and other times…he’s so close, we’re almost one person. And not a good one.”

If she really
had
combined her two halves like she wanted him to believe, he envied her. Wished he didn’t feel the constant pain of being pulled apart. The sense of desperation that came with knowing your evil was more powerful than your good.

How could she have accepted that person? Granted, Chastity was
nothing
like Hyde, but she sure as hell wasn’t the kind of person he’d think Eden would want to share a body with. But if it had really happened for her,
to
her, whatever, he was glad. At least
one
of them could be happy.

“You aren’t him, you know?” Landon said. “You’re better than he is.”

Mitch looked at the poor, deluded guy. “How the fuck do you know?”

Landon shrugged and took another drink.

“And I just…if I let him go, let him out, I think I’d finally feel…peace. For the first time in my life, I’d feel peace.”

“What about while you and Eden were together? You didn’t feel it then?”

“What I felt then was…”
Joy. Satisfaction. Hope.
He shook his head—those thoughts were useless. “It didn’t last, and it’s not coming back. But if I let go…” He didn’t know how to say it without scaring Landon. And yet, he needed to confess. “If I let go for even one moment, Hyde would do horrible things. But I’d finally be able to relax.” He chuckled bitterly. “What kind of man does that make me? That the only way I’ll ever feel peace comes with a death toll?”

Landon didn’t say anything. There was no
‘Come on, man. You’ll be fine,’
or
‘I’ll make sure you don’t go postal’
. Probably because neither was possible. So, at least he knew the cop wasn’t a liar.

“How close is he right now?” Landon asked quietly.

Mitch looked within, judging himself, weighing the pain he felt. “Pretty fucking close.”

“She gave me something.” He pulled a large syringe out of his pocket and set it on the coffee table.

“What is it?”

“They gave it to her.”

He chuckled. “I didn’t think she would ever go for a needle, but at least they aren’t sneaking into her cereal anymore.”

“It’s not for her.”

Mitch froze mid-breath. His gaze briefly leaving the syringe to look at the cop, see if he was joking. “Me? It’s for
me
?”

“It’s the serum. They want you to be
you
enough to come in. I’m guessing they consider it a gift.”

A laugh died in his throat as he stared at the shit. The shit that symbolized the last fifteen years of his life. Lies, deceit, lack of choice. It would’ve been funny if it weren’t so damned serious. Did they actually believe he would take this and come in willingly? After what they’d done to him? After what they’d done to
her
?

“You need to go talk to her.” He put out his hand as Mitch started to tell him off. “It’s no longer optional. The Clinic told her about you. They said it will get harder—keeping him subdued. The longer you’re without the serum, the worse it’ll get. And then you’ll turn again and…you might not be able to come back”—he tapped the side of his head—“home.”

Well, wasn’t that the best news he could’ve heard. But damn it, if it made sense. Over all those years of being secretly doped, he’d been able to control Hyde better. Damn it, he’d been able to control
himself
better. Sure, it had taken a lot of effort, hurt a lot of feelings, but he’d been in control. Kind of. Happy, happy days.

Fuck
. Would things really be better if he took their goddamned serum again? Would his life be easier knowing that shit was flowing through his veins? Or would giving them yet-another piece of himself just make him so fucking angry that he wouldn’t be able to live with himself anyway?

“Would you take it, if you were me?” Mitch asked.

“Hell no. I agree with you. There’s no way to know what they’d give you now. So unless it gets to the point of no return—literally—I wouldn’t touch that thing. But you still need to talk to her. Even as a kid, I hated playing telephone. I’m tired of being the go-between.”

Mitch nodded. “You’re right. That isn’t what I’m paying you for.”

He glanced around the room. “Although, I have yet to actually
do
what you’re paying me for.”

“You mean cleaning up the mess?” Mitch laughed. “Dude, housekeeping aside, you’ve been cleaning up after me for weeks.”

The corners of Landon’s mouth curled, but the smile never took root. Understandable—what did either of them really have to smile about? “It’s just a little bit longer. We’ve been sitting on our asses waiting for something to happen for too long. Now we have a chance to
make
something happen. Let’s not blow it.”

Mitch picked up The Clinic’s ‘gift’ and rolled it between his fingers. He’d spent the last two weeks doing absolutely nothing but worrying about the woman upstairs. And now that she was finally here, within his grasp, he was acting like a frozen popsicle—back to doing nothing but waiting to melt or be consumed.

Landon was right.

Time to move, asshole. Time to do something
. He took a deep breath and hauled his ass of the couch. “Alright, cop. I’ll talk to her. But I need a chaperone.”

“No shit.”

Eden sat up on the mattress when she heard footsteps on the stairs. Two sets. Her heart sped, and she smoothed down her dress as she stood.
Really? This isn’t a date
. He wasn’t going to chat about the good old days or apologize for all his screaming and angry foreplay-slash-coercion. She had no idea what he would say, but it was a sure bet that their last few conversations probably hadn’t cleared everything up.

Mitch stopped at the doorway, taking a deep breath before he came into the room. His eyes avoided the cage, as if nothing inside of it could hold his attention and even the floor was more interesting than she was.

What could she possibly say that he’d believe?

The only one who looked halfway-normal was Landon, who was prodding Mitch in the back to make him move.

“Sit down,” Landon said to him, pointing to the bed. “Just shove my stuff out of the way.”

As he did, Eden imagined it was probably the only time in Mitch’s life that he’d obeyed someone.

“Alright, kids. Here’s what’s gonna happen: Eden—”

Mitch flinched.

Landon rolled his eyes. “
Eden
is going to start talking. Turner is going to sit here until she’s done. And I am going to be quiet unless things turn ugly”— he looked pointedly at Mitch—“and I have to shoot someone.” Then he looked at her. “Okay, go.”

Eden shifted from one leg to another. “I’m not sure what to say.” She couldn’t keep her eyes off Mitch, even though he still wasn’t looking at her. His face was bruised, and his body sagged in the chair.

“Tell him what they told you.” Landon stood next to the dresser, leaning against the wall, watching them both. “About you and about him.”

She tried to keep it short, hitting only the high points. That there were others like them who The Clinic was trying to help, that she’d spoken to one of them, and that they seemed happy. Or as happy as one could be.

Mitch sighed a lot, shook his head and rolled his eyes a few times, but didn’t say anything.

When she started to tell him what Alex had said about her DNA, that it might be the key to a cure, she saw his hands grip the bedspread, crush it in his fists. She hesitated, afraid of telling him too much when he still wasn’t ready to hear it. Maybe she’d started in the wrong place. The reason he wasn’t listening was because he didn’t trust her. He didn’t believe she was still
her
.

“Mitch?” she asked. “Mitch, I’m still me. Or maybe I’m
finally
me. No serum, no lies, no Chastity. Just…me. My eyes are different and little pieces, I guess. But inside…I’m the same person I was. I don’t know how to make you believe me. I wish I did. What can I do?”

When he raised his chin and their eyes locked on each other’s, she wanted to cry. Hell, maybe she already was crying. Silent tears from somewhere deep inside. Ones that didn’t dare show themselves for fear he’d ridicule them.

“Tell me who you really are,” he said, his voice emotionless.

She wanted to look away, break eye-contact, but she couldn’t. She knew that her eyes were part of the cause of his distrust and by
seeing
them, he could pretend she was someone else.

“The Clinic believes—”

“I don’t give a shit what The Clinic believes. I want to know the truth. And since I can’t have
that
, then I want to know what
you
think the truth is.”