Night Beyond The Night (18 page)

“Are you all right?” Jade said in a low voice, her mouth moving deliciously against the tender skin just above his clavicle. Elliott’s eyes closed again, and he concentrated on breathing easily, and not on the rush of blood surging everywhere . . . absolutely
everywhere
. . . in his body.

“I’m fine,” he replied into the top of her hair, though his head still throbbed like a bitch. That was possibly the only reason he wasn’t completely distracted by the woman he held in his arms. That and they were in big fucking danger if they really had found a cache of Strangers.

The problem was, what
should
be warning him away from the sweet bundle of curves in his arms was the fact that, only a few hours ago, some other guy had had his mouth on her boob. On this ruthless reminder, the wave of annoyance strengthened Elliott. He marshaled his thoughts enough to ask a relevant question. “Are you sure there are Strangers here?”

“They drive those big black trucks . . . what are they called? Hummings?”

“Humvees.”

“No one else has them. Have you ever seen one?”

Not in the last six months anyway. Elliott had to shake his head, and he realized one of his hands had moved to gently lift the hair from the back of her neck
. Dammit.
But he wasn’t listening to reason. He slid his fingers over her neck, gently caressing the soft indentation of her nape. It was tender and downy soft, a secret, intimate place on a woman who wore her hair long. His mouth watered. He wanted to kiss her there.

“Only Strangers, or the bounty hunters have trucks like that,” she said. And he could have sworn she sagged closer against him, almost as if she were a cat purring into the stroke of his hand.

“Let’s figure out where we are,” he said, easing gently, reluctantly, away from her. Although they’d seen no sign of Strangers yet, if they’d come in the same way he and Jade had, it was possible they could have come through this door and followed this path. It would be best to try and get farther away from the entrance and hole up somewhere. Holding just her hand, Elliott felt along the wall, inching around, and then his foot bumped up against something. At the same time, his hand brushed a slender metal rod jutting from the wall, and then curving into . . . a stairway handrail.

Ah. That explained the severe darkness. They were in a stairwell. Definitely not a good place to stay if the Strangers had taken the stairs to another level. A bit more exploration indicated that this was the bottom floor; there were no stairs going down.

“Should we go up?” he asked softly. “It’s a staircase.” Elliott wished he dared pull out the matches he had in his pack, but not yet.

She nodded against him, barely missing his nose. “I don’t want to be trapped in a small room like this,” she whispered back.

Ditto for him.

At least any noises they made would be drowned out by the storm, which still raged like a furious bitch. Above the snarling wind, Elliott heard the dull thuds and crashes of debris slamming into the brick walls or windows. If there were Strangers here, unless they came upon them unexpectedly, they should be able to remain unnoticed.

At least, he hoped they couldn’t sense the presence of humans, like the
gangas
could.

The steps felt sturdy when he stomped on the first three, and so, saying a little prayer that they would hold, he led the way up. Jade followed, her fingers still clasped in his.

At the top, he paused. Now . . . to find a way out of the enclosed stairwell.

Carefully feeling around along the wall, he oriented himself to the same position they’d been in when they came into the stairwell, two flights of stairs below. If he figured right, there should be a door . . . right . . . there.

The knob felt cool and tight beneath his fingers, and he tried to turn it. It wouldn’t budge even when he tried two hands, even with the sudden surge of strength that surprised even Elliott. He pulled on it, and then pushed, but the door didn’t even shudder beneath his onslaught.

Fucking great. “Up one more level,” he said, feeling uneasy about getting too high up in a building that could be blown to smithereens. Or that could harbor Strangers on any level.

Yet, the brick walls seemed sturdy enough, and the steel stairs rang dully beneath his foot when he paused to stomp and test its weight. They went on, the storm howling beyond the brick walls.

The knob on the next level was loose, and he didn’t even have to turn it. Carefully, he pulled and at first it didn’t move . . . and then, with a grudging little sound, it came free. The wind billowed louder beyond a large window that still retained its glass, and the dark wasn’t such a depthless black. Elliott could make out a few large shadows, objects that were likely old office furnishings—desks, chairs, maybe even some electronics—but nothing that glowed like a Stranger’s crystal.

He hesitated, weighing the options. Stay in the small, dark, enclosed stairwell, or exit into a larger, lighter room with a window that could explode into shards, more vulnerable to the storm, and with the possibility that the Strangers would be there. . . .

“Let’s go,” Jade said, gently pushing him. “Too dark in here.”

He nodded in agreement, though he doubted she could see, and they went into the room, closing the door behind them. Wary of the malicious bitch outside, Elliott kept Jade close as they edged along the wall, keeping clear of the window. The storm raged as strong as ever, and even as they stood there, a large branch crashed through the intact windowpane. It tumbled into the room, rolling to a halt near a large shadow in the corner.

As the storm roared and swirled around the room, the shadow moved, leaping onto two feet as if startled by the sudden wave of power. The man shifted, half turning toward them, an unmistakable glow shone in the murky darkness.

Elliott felt Jade stiffen next to him, and he shoved her away, toward the door. “Run!” he shouted. She stumbled toward the exit, but he didn’t turn to watch her leave. He was looking for a weapon.

The Stranger bolted toward them and Elliott dodged, vaulting over what was, indeed, a desk. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jade scuttle away from the door, crawling quickly along the floor. He whipped off his pack and flung it toward her, lightening his load.

The storm swirled in the room, buffeting and whipping objects about, drowning out any sound. Elliott could see the faint glow beneath the man’s shirt, as if a small light or a captured firefly burned there. Hardly noticeable even in the dark, it would have been invisible during the daylight. Blue on one side, just above where the clavicle would be. Just as Jade had described them.

Elliott ducked as something hurtled through the window at him, and shoved an old office chair at the Stranger. He pivoted, dodging some other flying object that had come from the Stranger or the storm, searching for something to use as a weapon. His eyes had become used to the low light, and he saw Jade crouched near the wall, and she seemed to be inching her way around the room. Not toward the door, but crawling toward the window.

The Stranger vaulted over a desk, and launched himself toward Elliott with a shout barely audible in the roar of the storm. Elliott spun just in time and dove toward a dark corner. Rolling to his feet, he found a long piece of wood, a beam that had fallen from somewhere long ago. It was as thick as his arm, square, and perhaps five feet long. He swiped it up, hefting it easily as the shadowy figure turned to face him again.

The wind continued to roar in the room, lifting smaller objects at them. The man leapt, Elliott swung, and felt the satisfying slam as he connected, the shock of it shooting up his arms. The man stumbled . . . but he kept coming.

Jesus Christ
. Elliott raised the beam to swing again and the man ducked, diving toward his legs.

He jumped out of the way, using the beam as a sort of awkward pole vault, but the man caught his foot. Elliott fell into the wall, and by the time he got to his feet, the Stranger had turned to lunge across the room toward Jade. But Elliott brought the beam down onto the back of the man’s head.

That stopped him. For about ten seconds.

Then he turned and came after Elliott, his hands wide and grasping, his teeth bared, the crystal beneath his shirt glowing brighter. He kicked out. Elliott swung, and missed, using the beam to catch himself and spin around as the man launched at him. His feet caught Elliott in the chest, slamming into him with a great force that knocked the air out of his lungs and sent him stumbling back.

Does nothing even slow this guy down?

Elliott caught sight of Jade, who was crouched right next to the window, as she flattened herself against the wall. She was gesturing at him, but it was too dark to see well, and he was a little distracted to play charades.

The man came again and Elliott dodged, slamming against the opposite wall, facing the open window. As he pushed himself away, he suddenly realized what Jade had in mind, crouched near the opening.

Brilliant
.

But then something large and dark twisted through the window and he ducked, using the wooden pole to keep himself balanced. His opponent was back at him again, and this time when the Stranger attacked, hands raised, he grabbed for the beam whaling toward him and caught it with his hands in midair.

The man was strong, and he pulled, jerking the wood around, causing Elliott to stumble and splinters to drive into his fingers. He held on, yanking back just as violently, focusing on the empty, glass-edged window.

The macabre dance continued, neither of the men relinquishing the wooden beam as they circled around, pulling, pushing, occasionally kicking, jerking . . . Elliott held on as it slammed toward him suddenly, twisting so it caught him painfully in the hip instead of the gut. The pain blasted through his body, but he dug his fingers in deeper. This was the only chance.

The wind filled his ears, blasting full-force into them, and a large piece of paper or cardboard tumbled into the room, slamming into the Stranger’s back. He whirled and shook it off, and at last Elliott angled so the window was behind the Stranger. He gave a loud cry and shoved as hard as he could.

The beam slammed into the man’s gut, sending him buckling backward, and Elliott let go of the wood. He saw Jade surge forward behind the Stranger, who staggered back, tripping over her.

Jade raised her arms and helped him on his way out the window and into the vortex of storm.

The Stranger cried out in surprise and anger as he tumbled through the opening, and as Elliott dove over next to Jade by the window, they saw the man spin, pummeled through the air, and then off into the darkness like the house in Dorothy Gale’s tornado.

Without wasting any time, Elliott grabbed Jade’s hand and they moved quickly along the perimeter of the room, back toward the door to the stairwell. Crouching low, avoiding the variety of debris spinning and blustering, they reached the door and Elliott muscled it open.

The door slammed, and they were in the darker, safer, quieter space, huddled in the corner of the stairwell.

“Brilliant,” he said against her hair, breathing hard, his head pounding and something warm leaking anew from the back of his skull. “You were brilliant.”

“Thank you,” she said. “You were brilliantly wixy yourself.”

Reluctant to release her, Elliott nevertheless did—just enough to dig into the pack she still clutched. Moments later, he had the precious lighter in his hands and flicked it on.

The little flame wavered for a moment, then settled into a small orange spike. Elliott searched for something to use as a torch, for some reason unwilling to look at Jade right now. He figured he knew what would happen if he did.

“Here,” she said, as if reading his mind. She handed him a dirty piece of fabric, likely gnawed from some long-lost break-room sofa or executive chair, then found to be too big for a nest.

He took the fabric, noticing that it was a little damp in places, then wadded it into a ball and sort of tied it into itself. There was nowhere to put it in this concrete-floored and walled area, so Elliott tucked it in the corner and knelt to tip the flame to an edge. It took a few tries, along with a bit of alcohol from the bottle in his pack, before it lit—but he was glad for the delay because it gave him time to collect himself.

By the time he got it lit, Elliott had other thoughts on his mind besides the woman next to him. But before he could speak, Jade said, “I recognized him. That Stranger was the same one I saw talking to Rob Nurmikko back in Envy. He’s involved with whatever that cargo is, I’m sure of it.”

“He attacked us right away,” he said. “As soon as he saw us.”

“I noticed that too,” she said. “That in itself was a little weird. Normally, a Stranger wouldn’t just . . . attack.”

“But what is normal for a Stranger?” asked Elliott. “I mean, how do you know they wouldn’t necessarily attack a human if they came across one unexpectedly.”

She looked at him, her eyes glowing incredibly green, ringed with a thin band of black and flecked with the same. “Good point. They certainly are no friends of humans, and I’ve certainly seen them kill without remorse. But privately. They’re careful not to do anything overt that might expose their evil to the masses.” She shifted, her eyes widening in horror. “My God, you’re bleeding, Elliott! Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” he replied, reaching automatically to touch the wound at the back of his skull. His fingers came away sticky, but the blood wasn’t bright red. Jade looked as if she didn’t believe him, so Elliott changed the subject as he dug in his pack for some first aid supplies. “You know a lot about the Strangers.”

She nodded, her face becoming impassive.

The roar of the storm continued to buffet the walls around them, and Elliott used another of his shirts—which left him a total of one—to clean the slice at the back of his head. “I know it’s probably not your favorite thing to relive, but will you tell me how you were captured by them?”

She settled back against the wall, the meager flames burning slowly through the wad of fabric, offering a minimal amount of light. Her knees bent, her arms folded around the front of them, her hair straggling down over her shoulders and the tops of her arms. But her eyes lifted toward him, still clear.