Darkness above, p.26
Darkness Above, page 26
Four men in brown military uniforms and specialized biomatter goggles marched inside with their guns drawn. Finch raised his left hand. In it was his expired R.E.D. badge.
Torrance lifted her hands as well, her gaze narrowed to slits.
I followed suit, palms forward.
A fifth soldier crossed the threshold and continued toward us. He uttered a command, and one of his subordinates gave Finch and I a pat down. They took my Karambit knife.
I looked at Torrance. No one moved a muscle in her direction, but they watched her like a pack of hungry wolves. Metallic canisters hung from clips on the soldiers’ belts, and I prayed Torrance wouldn’t do anything rash.
“English, anyone?” asked Finch. “I’m a senior member of the Canadian Reclusive Eternal Dragons Society, Special Ops. My name is Card Finch.”
The man who gave Finch his pat down snatched the R.E.D. badge from the Sergeant’s hand and gave it to his commanding officer. They confiscated our rifles and packs and searched the room. The commanding officer studied the badge, then looked at Finch and said something in German.
Finch offered the commander a congenial grin. “Sorry, I don’t speak German, but I’d love to have a conversation with a translator.”
The commander shoved the badge into his pocket, and another man came forward with a blood kit.
“Play along,” Finch muttered as he offered his left hand to the Drag.
The test was straightforward. They pricked a finger, collected a drop of blood, and mixed it with a drop of solution that changed color when it encountered the Nephilim marker.
We all bled red, but only Finch’s blood remained unchanged by the solvent. Torrance’s blood turned black, and mine turned violet. A pit knotted in my stomach. I was part of their registry now.
The commander scowled at me. Then, with a firm nod in Torrance’s direction, he gave another command. A team of men swarmed the room. Finch and I were cuffed. Card hollered as he was pushed face-first against the wall, his right arm forced from the sling and twisted behind his back. They went after Torrance with electronic collars and steel chains.
She grimaced but didn’t resist. I bit my lip as they gagged her with a steel rod. She let it happen, trusting Finch’s instruction despite the look of murder in her eyes.
They blindfolded her last.
We were marched outside. The motel’s other patrons watched the spectacle from their windows and doorways. My cheeks burned. I was embarrassed and ashamed, but worst of all, I was helpless. Hands cuffed. Talisman gone. Weapons taken. Who knew what the Drags planned to do with us?
Two trucks waited in the parking lot, and the soldiers opened the back doors. Finch and I were led to one truck, while Torrance was led to the other.
“Wait, where are they taking her?” I dug in my heels and refused to continue. Rough hands shoved me toward the truck, but I stood my ground.
“She’ll be okay,” said Finch, but the Sergeant's words fell on deaf ears. My heart couldn’t stand idly by while they took her. I headbutted a soldier that was in my way, and ran in her direction, but I didn’t get far. The Drags outnumbered us. They lifted me by my upper arms and carried me back, ignoring my demand to let go.
Torrance heard the commotion and lunged. She used her shoulders to fight off the Drags, knocking them to the ground. She nearly made it to my side when a man prodded her in the back with a taser. Torrance went rigid, then fell to the pavement.
“Torrance!” I stomped on the foot of one of the Drags who held me, hoping he would let go long enough for me to headbutt the soldier on my other side. The man winced and said something in German, but his grip didn’t falter.
“Calm down,” said Finch. “You’re making it worse for her.”
Tears dampened my cheeks as the Drags lifted Torrance and carried her into the back of the second truck. They laid her on the floor. Her head hung limp, and she didn’t move. The doors were slammed closed and locked.
My heart broke.
“You have to trust me,” said Finch.
I could hardly look at the Sergeant as they pushed us into the back of our own truck. We had no choice but to awkwardly sit on the bench seats with our hands cuffed behind our backs as they locked the doors. After a few moments, the engine turned over and we accelerated.
Finch studied me, his brow pale and glistening. “She’ll be okay.”
I clenched my jaw and stared at the ceiling. The tears had stopped, but my eyes were hot and puffy, and I didn’t trust myself not to start again.
“They’re going to question us. We need to get our stories straight.” When I didn’t respond, he continued. “I’m Lieutenant Finch, and you’re Sergeant …,” he looked me up and down, “... Fuego.”
I frowned at him. “Sergeant Fire?”
“We’re undercover. Special operations, search and rescue.”
“They tested our blood. They know what I am.”
Finch leaned back and winced as his shoulder touched the metal wall of the truck. “Maybe it’s better if you don’t say anything at all.”
“You think?” I looked away.
We rode in silence for what felt like an hour before the truck finally parked and the engine turned off. The doors opened, and I winced as the bright orange light of sunset doused the cramped space. The Drags grabbed our arms and urged us outside. I stepped onto the pavement, then looked up.
We’d parked in front of a large institution made of cement walls and giant columns. A hundred or so steps led from the curb to the tall double doors of the main entrance. A wood carving of a highly detailed ouroboros mounted each door like two slithery sentinels, their scales too lifelike for comfort.
Drag central. Freaking great.
They marched us up the stairs. As we climbed, a second truck parked beside the first, and my breath caught as four soldiers pulled Torrance from the back. At least she was lucid enough to stand on her own two feet. She looked tense, her movements stiff. The chains, gag, and blindfold gave the impression of a wild animal needing to be restrained at all costs.
More Drag soldiers emerged from the building and bounded down the steps, passing Finch and me to surround her. Anger heated my blood and my fists clenched, but somehow Finch’s warning cut through my fear. You’re making it worse for her.
He was right. If I hadn’t fought back, she wouldn’t have been tased. In fact, we were lucky they didn’t kill her.
My fingernails bit into my palms as I drew a deep breath and then slowly released it, forcing myself to calm down. “We’re okay,” I whispered, knowing she could hear me despite the distance. “We’re walking in the same direction.”
A Drag shoved me, so I continued toward the entrance but kept my gaze over my shoulder.
Torrance started forward only to fumble at the first step and fall. Her chin hit the cement, and I gasped. The Drags laughed, then seemed to tease each other over who would help her up. I wanted to scream at them. Instead, I bit the tip of my tongue until I tasted blood.
I should have warned her about the stairs.
Two of the Drags pulled Torrance to her feet, holding her upper arms as she climbed the cement steps. It wasn’t long before they stood beside us.
Our entourage of enemy soldiers escorted us inside. The facility opened to an array of corridors and offices; the walls pale cream with mud-brown trim and the occasional red ouroboros crest. The ambience was colder and more official than the Sword of Somnus Brotherhood. Soldiers in drab brown uniforms passed from one hallway to the next. Some of them stopped and stared at Torrance, their gazes full of disdain.
As we continued further into the facility, an intersection opened in front of us. The men escorting Finch and me headed left while the soldiers surrounding Torrance went right.
“Where are they taking her?” I rounded to face the men behind us.
Torrance stopped. The soldiers urged her forward, shouting commands and shoving her spine, but she refused to budge.
“They’ll only taser her again,” Finch warned.
“I … I just want to know where.”
“To a holding cell,” said an accented feminine voice.
I faced forward to find a sharp-looking woman in a pencil skirt uniform with a coiffed blonde bob and thick-framed glasses. The pins decorating her lapel suggested a high rank, and I noticed Finch’s Adam’s apple bob.
Torrance stood rigid, arms pinned to her sides by heavy chains, wrists and ankles cuffed. An e-collar surrounded her neck even though she couldn’t phase; blind-folded and gagged like a malicious creature. My protector who defended me from bullies. My confidant who let me cry on her shoulder after arguing with Dad. The companion who accompanied me to every class, every meal, and every social gathering. My best friend who comforted me as I fell in and out of love with numerous crushes before I was old enough to realize who I truly wanted.
Bound like an animal.
I swallowed hard, not knowing what else to do or say.
Torrance seemed to take my hesitation as compliance. She started forward, letting them lead her away. I lost a part of myself as she disappeared around a corner.
“Now then,” said the woman as she turned on the heels of her sensible shoes. “Follow me.”
Finch and I were led down a flight of stairs to a basement level of sorts. Four doors lined the left wall. I was escorted into the first. A table and two chairs placed across from each other stood at the center of the linoleum floor.
The woman and another soldier entered after me. I recognized the man as the commanding officer from the motel. He closed the door, leaving Finch on the outside. The Sergeant must have been led elsewhere.
So this is to be my interrogation. I let my gaze wander the white walls before settling into one of the chairs. No torture devices present, at least.
“This is Captain Müller.” The woman indicated the man who had made our arrest. I looked the captain up and down. He had a mole on the side of his nose and male pattern baldness. His broad shoulders and puffed out chest probably passed for intimidation around here, but I could take him in a fight.
Müller took a seat. The woman remained standing.
“I will interpret,” she explained.
“Then interpret this,” I said while crossing my arms over my chest. “Card Finch is my commanding officer. I have orders not to speak to anyone but him.”
After that, I didn’t say another word.
36 JORDAN
The captain and the translator left once it became clear that I wasn’t going to answer their questions. As soon as the door closed behind them, I went to it and gripped the knob. It refused to turn.
Great, I’m locked in.
I sat, picked at my cuticles, recited the lyrics to Single Ladies, then stood and paced the room. It felt like hours before the door opened again. When it did, a soldier I didn’t recognize came inside and removed the handcuffs from my wrists. He gestured for me to follow.
We climbed a different stairwell than the one I’d entered. I counted three floors before exiting into a completely different part of the facility. At first glance, I would have sworn I'd been dropped right back into the Sword of Somnus Brotherhood dormitories. Several small rooms lined either side of the hallway, most of them open to reveal bunk beds, drawers, and simple writing desks all crowded with clothing, textbooks, backpacks, shower caddies, and an array of other items that spoke of life in the student-soldier world.
My escort stopped before one such room and gestured for me to go inside. I opened the door wide so I could get a good look at what I was walking into before the guy got any dumb ideas.
A second more familiar man in a brown Drag uniform stood in profile in the center of the small space. He wore a simple ball-chain necklace, the ends of which rested in his closed fist. His troubled gaze pooled like warm honey under the fluorescent lighting a moment before he looked at me, and recognition dawned.
Finch.
I closed the door and went to him. “Did you see Torrance? How is she? We can break her out. There must be a way.”
Finch dropped the dog tags under his shirt and sighed. “Calm down. She’s fine.”
“You keep saying that, but you don’t know for a fact, do you?”
“I do, actually.” He met my gaze and lifted his chin. “And she’ll remain fine as long as you don’t do anything stupid.”
I pressed my lips into a tight line and took a step back. My gaze traveled up and down, getting a good look at the soldier in front of me. He no longer wore the shirt and slacks from the abandoned house. Instead, drab earth-tone camouflage wrapped his legs in thick cotton canvas, and a matching brown t-shirt stretched thin over his pectorals. His posture was perfect, his hair freshly washed and neatly combed. He’d even shaved.
The only indication that Finch was still the same man who boarded the aircraft with me in Quebec was the shoulder sling that cradled his right arm.
“What did you tell them?” I put my hands on my hips, faking bravado. Inside, all I wanted to do was find Torrance and run. “Who do they think we are?”
“Special Ops.” His brow quirked, as though he expected me to know this already. “We’re working a top-secret search and rescue mission. I convinced them that Torrance is a vital part of our operation. They think she’s a double agent. They’re going to release her back into my custody in the morning and then fly us to the base in Wilhelmshaven. From there we’ll take a ship to your brother’s location.”
I blinked several times. “You’re serious?”
“As a heart attack.” Finch nodded.
“But how? Why would they believe you?”
A muscle ticked along his jaw. “I think the words you’re looking for are ‘thank you’.”
“Thank you,” I said quietly as I chewed my bottom lip.
This is good. Not only would the three of us be fine, but we would bypass all the hazardous travel and go straight to searching for Logan Junior. So why won’t my stomach unclench?
“What happens when they realize where you’ve been for the last two years?”
Finch looked to the side. “Hopefully we’ll have found your brother before then.”
I hugged myself and nodded. It seemed unbelievable that the Drags would take Finch’s word as truth. Did an expired R.E.D. badge really mean that much? But maybe I shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.
“There’s a change of clothes for you on the bed. Bathroom is at the end of the hall. It’s co-ed.” He pointed to the bed behind me. A Drag uniform sat neatly folded on the foot of the mattress, complete with combat boots.
“No thanks.”
He shrugged. “We leave at first light, so I suggest you get some rest.”
“But it’s night.” I frowned. “I’m wide awake.”
“Then be quiet so I can sleep.” Finch went to the twin-sized mattress on the other side of the small room and laid down. He didn’t bother to remove his boots or snuggle under the covers. He just laid back, his braced right arm draped over his sternum, and closed his eyes.
I sat on the edge of the bed opposite his and glanced around the room. The bright florescent lights were still on, but there wasn’t much to see. Only bare walls and an empty desk, as if the space hadn’t been used in a long while.
Drawing a deep breath, I laid down and stared at the ceiling. I missed my Buffy the Vampire Slayer bedspread and matching sheets. I missed the vanilla scented candles Torrance would light so our room wouldn’t smell like old sandwich wrappers and blood bags from the Tin. I even missed the stupid Tin.
It’s all gone though. Blown to smithereens by the very faction who now housed us.
My hands trembled, and I clenched my fists to stop them. I still didn’t understand why the Drags would break the accords and attack us. Did they really hate vampyres so much that even their human offspring were a threat? The Rebels needed to be stopped. No argument there. But to eradicate an entire species? So many of them were innocent civilians just trying to live their lives.
But maybe that was the thing about war. Now that I had gotten a taste of it, now that I’d had to fight for my life, I understood how taking the moral high ground seemed like something only a privileged few could afford. When the choice was your life or theirs, the divide stretched out like an uncrossable chasm. It was easier to simply pick a side and stay in your lane, to tell yourself everyone else was the enemy, to justify self-preservation over compassion.
My vision blurred, and I dabbed the edges of my eyes with the back of my hand. When I was sure the tears wouldn’t fall, I looked at Finch. His dark lashes were open, and he stared at the ceiling, his chest rising and falling in a calm, soothing rhythm. He looked beguiling. All pensive features, hard lines, and smooth tanned skin.
“Can’t sleep?” I asked.
“After two years of waking up at this hour?” He shook his head.
“But everyone else would be sleeping right now.”
“Everyone except security.”
Right.
“The worst part,” he continued,” is that we’ll be hungry, but the kitchen won’t open ’till four AM.”
“I’ll be bored out of my mind before then.” I rolled onto my side, facing him. “How do you know what time the kitchen opens?”
“I don’t. It could be different here.”
“But it was four AM when you were a soldier with the Canadian Drags?”
He nodded, keeping his eyes on a blank spot on the vinyl tiles above.
I wondered what had happened two years ago to convince him to desert the Drags, and how he felt now, being amongst them again. He must be nervous. Desertion was a serious crime. If I was to hazard a guess, I’d say we could both use a distraction right now.
“Well, I know one way to pass the time that will make us want to take a nap after.”
“Push-ups?” He half shrugged.
I snickered. “If that’s what you want to call it.”
