Awaken Me Darkly (Page 29)

I stormed through the mansion, pushed my way past his servants. They scrambled out of my way. Kyrin was nowhere to be found. A low growl worked its way past my throat. On top of everything else, he still thought to play detective on his own. His death would be my greatest pleasure.

I kicked and clawed the hidden door to his office, but the stupid thing wouldn’t budge. Did he think I’d be okay with this? That I would forgive him? What, give the little woman a few mind-shattering orgasms, and she’d be content to wait at home?

“Bastard,” I spat again.

Whipping around, I saw I was alone. Smart of the servants to hide. In my frustration, I might have accidentally hurt them. I stalked to the kitchen and withdrew a cooking blade from a wooden sheath. Before the day ended, I was going to hack this armband from my body. Then I would await Kyrin’s return. And I knew that with each second that ticked by and he remained absent, my fury would grow hotter.

“I’m going to skewer him alive,” I said, slamming down on a barstool. “I’m going to rip out his heart and feast on it for days. I’ll tie his intestines around his neck and choke him to death.” I jabbed the tip of the knife under the band.

“Oh, and just who do you intend to torture this way?” a husky female voice asked behind me.

I quickly jumped up and spun, knife braced and ready. When I saw who stood there, my jaw dropped open. Atlanna. I hadn’t sensed her presence, yet there she stood, a vision in creamy lavender cloth. My first thought was that of a hunter. I wished I had my pyre-gun. I wished I had a tape recorder.

My second thought was simply that of a daughter. I wondered what she thought of me as she examined me so intently.

Up close, her uptilted violet eyes, high cheekbones, and pixie nose were the epitome of perfection. Even the arch of her eyebrows dared not deviate from the flawlessness of her features. She resembled me, yet was so much more delicate.

Gold armlets snaked around her biceps, and bracelets adorned her wrists and ankles. Her glitter-soft white hair nearly reached the floor, and was plaited in several braids. Innocence enveloped her, glowed lovingly around her. Deceptively.

Two separate needs battled for dominance. I could run to her, accept her as my mother, and talk to her. Or I could use the blade I held in my hands and end the mess this Arcadian had created.

I did neither.

I simply stood conflicted, my heart rate increasing, my palms sweating. I was so filled with curiosity. What would my life have been like if I had remained with her as a child? Would I have known the love I’d always craved? Would I have killed innocent humans to please her?

I was supposed to hate her, and I did hate her on so many levels.

Take her into custody, the huntress in me cried. Question her. Find the missing men, if any of them are still alive. Find the babies. Still, I couldn’t force myself to move. To act as I’d been trained.

“Why are you here?” I managed.

“To see you.” Her fingers skipped down her braid. “Would you like me to leave?”

“I—No.” I shook my head. No matter my needs, that wasn’t an action I could allow.

She gave me a half smile, and amusement sparkled in her expression. “Holding that knife, you remind me of myself. So strong. So ready to conquer the world.”

“Except we use our weapons for different reasons.” There. I’d said it. It was the first step in forcing myself to think of her only as a murderer, not a mother.

“Killing is killing.” Slowly her smile faded, and she leaned her hip against the kitchen doorframe. A hint of anger stiffened her chin. “Which of us do you think has more fun with our victims?”

“Life isn’t always about fun.”

“Then what’s it about, hmm?”

“Doing the right thing.”

“Is the right thing admitting to my crimes? Fine. I did it. I killed the men you found. They had served their purpose, and I learned well not to leave fathers with their babies.”

I blinked at her cold confession, uttered so nonchalantly. I’d never—never—had an alien admit so blatantly to a crime. And yet her confession fit so perfectly with her other actions. Shocking. Uncaring. Bold.

“I’m glad I did,” she said. “It brought you to me.”

“You cannot mean to convince me that you killed them only to get to me. What about the babies?” I asked, keeping my tone as neutral as hers—a feat that required every ounce of strength I possessed.

She shrugged, waved a delicate arm through the air, and gave a light chuckle. “What about them?” Like a queen before her court, Atlanna strolled around the kitchen, touching and lifting certain items for her inspection, then haplessly dropping them back into place. Wrinkling her nose in distaste, she traced a fingertip over the counter. “I expected Kyrin’s home to appear more…I do not know. Rugged?”

My teeth ground together so forcefully my jaw almost snapped. “You do realize you will be executed for your crimes, do you not?”

“Humans cannot hurt me.” She faced me again, her gaze boring into mine, her eyes thoughtful. “You, though, could do great damage, I think. You are, after all, my finest creation.”

Her words sent a rush of anger through me, and I scowled. “You had nothing to do with shaping me into the woman that I am.”

“You are more mine than your father’s. More alien than human.”

“I am not like you. I will never be like you.”

“No, Mia en Arr. We are the same.” Her beauty glowing in the light, she approached me. “Your father hid you well. I spent years, so many wasted years, searching for you in New Britain. Then I read an article written about New Chicago’s A.I.R. team. There you were, staring out at me from a computer screen. I packed my belongings and traveled here that very day. I’ve watched you, you know. You are everything I wanted you to be.” There was a “but” in her tone.

“But I fight for the wrong team,” I finished for her.

“Yes. There is that small little detail. Small”—a grin flitted across her face—“but fixable.”

“How did you know I was here, in Kyrin’s home?”

“So here we are,” I said, trying for a casual tone.

“Yes, here we are. What better place for our first meeting? A.I.R. does not know where you are; therefore they cannot give me trouble.” She moved directly in front of me, and I smelled the subtle floral fragrance that encompassed her. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you that day in the parking lot. Kyrin was my target.”

Do your job, I told myself. She’s evil. Vile.

I had to take her down. Duty first and always. Innocent lives rested in this Arcadian’s hands, and if I didn’t snatch them away, she would crush them.

“How horrid Kyrin is to keep you here, locked away. Do you plan to kill him? Of course you do.”

Not giving myself time to think further, I dropped my knife and pounced. Perhaps I should have kept the weapon, but I wasn’t ready to kill her. Not when she might be the only way to find the babies. Not when—I didn’t allow myself to consider the other reason.

I wrapped my leg around hers and pushed. Because my action was so swift and unexpected, and delivered with expert precision, she fell backward, her expression stunned. I was on top of her in the next instant. By then she had already gained her momentum and unleashed a torrent of power so great, I dropped to my knees with a thud.

My hands covered my ears, trying to block out the loud, piercing blast of reverberating energy through my head. This was a thousand times worse than the pain I had experienced when stepping outside Kyrin’s home. Wave after wave of agony rushed through me. A scream tore past my throat.

An eternity passed, or maybe minutes, but I felt a brush of fingertips across my cheek and forced my gaze open. Atlanna crouched in front of me, her features filled with anger, as well as a hint of pride. “Not many could have taken me unaware.” With a simple glide of her fingers, she removed the armband from my bicep. “You are free now, Mia. Free to kill Kyrin for locking you away.”

Slowly, the ringing inside my head subsided.

“Take me to the babies and return the human men you abducted,” I croaked. “Please.”

“But I’m not finished with them yet,” she said, rising.

I grasped her hand, meaning to keep her from leaving. When our palms touched, her image filled my mind. I saw her lying on plush carpeting, covered in blood. Whose? Hers? She didn’t move, didn’t utter a sound. Was she dead or alive? Who had hurt her?

I tried to manipulate the vision, hoping to reveal the answers, but the harder I tried, the more the vision faded. No, I almost shouted, unsure whether I spoke to the vision or to Atlanna’s bleeding form. Stay with me. I probed the edge of my consciousness, twisted each image with a mental hand. Soon the vividness of colors and the complexity of shapes evaporated into mist, finally vanishing completely.

My eyes wide, I stared up at her. She watched me, her lips parted, her features now pale.

“What did you see?” she demanded, clutching my shoulders. “Tell me what you saw.”

I shook my head. I wouldn’t tell her, didn’t know how to tell her she might perish in the coming days. I didn’t even know how I felt about what I’d seen.

She released me, stepped two feet away. “I, too, have visions. They are never wrong.”

“I know,” I said sadly.

“Do you know, too, that we sometimes see distortions of the truth?”

My brows drew together. “What are you saying?” That what I’d seen might not come to pass? That what I’d seen was merely one possibility of what the future held?

“I—” She paused, whatever she’d planned to say dying a quick death. “Come to me after you have killed Kyrin. Your…brother would like to see you again.”

With that, she strode from the house.

CHAPTER 21

I bolted after her, my footsteps pounding into the wood panels. Just before I reached her, Atlanna glanced over her shoulder, and for a moment of suspended time, our gazes held. “Do not make me wait too long,” she said.

My head filled with the same intense ringing she’d caused before, and I squeezed my eyes shut as I dropped to the waiting ground. How many minutes passed, I didn’t know. I only knew that when the sound cleared and the pain subsided, I opened my eyes and found myself alone. Atlanna had disappeared as if she’d never stepped into the house.

Her final words inside the house penetrated my now pain-free mind. Your brother would like to see you again. I blinked once, twice. Kane. The brother I didn’t remember. The brother my father worshipped and thought he’d killed.

So Kane was with Atlanna. Was probably helping her. I should have been shocked. I wasn’t. Why should anything go right for this shitty case?

I whipped to my feet, retrieved the knife I’d dropped, and sheathed the sharp blade inside the waist of my skirt. Upstairs, I confiscated a pair of Kyrin’s boots and multiple pairs of socks. The socks I used as stuffing inside the boots, but even then the black leather boots proved several sizes too big and flopped on my feet. I didn’t waste time with pants or a shirt. I simply tugged one of his jackets over my shoulders. The thick material sagged, and the sleeves covered my hands. It’d have to do.

Urgency hammering through me, I raced outside.

No street

signs. No traffic. The afternoon air breathed a frosty cover in every direction as a large expanse of trees and untamed land greeted me. How many miles stood between the city and me? I didn’t know, couldn’t even see New Chicago’s skyline. I could begin walking, hoping someone would drive past and give me a lift, but…I didn’t like the odds, the waiting. The time involved. Kyrin could return at any moment.

There had to be another way.

The answer entered my peripheral vision as I stepped farther away from the house.

To my right rested a four-car garage, square in shape, white trim and red brick, detached from the house. The very garage I’d watched Kyrin speed from only one night ago. I quickened my step, pumping my arms and flinging snowflakes up my calves.

The side door proved locked, and the automatic entrance too heavy for me to lift. I busted the back window with a rock and climbed inside, knowing I’d set off whatever alarm system he used. I didn’t care. Warmth enveloped me as I studied three SUVs, each clean and all-terrain. And waiting for a driver.

Waiting for me.

I grinned. One space proved empty, which meant Kyrin was still using the Jag. As I considered what to do next, my smile dissolved. I didn’t know how to hot-wire a car. Earthlings used fingerprint IDs to start cars. Most aliens did not have fingerprints, so they used voice recognition.

Without Kyrin…No. Wait. Most likely, Kyrin would have programmed a few of his servants’ voices into the system, in case he needed someone to run his errands. Or he would have left a recorder with his voice commands for their uses.

Cursing, I ran back through the snow, my teeth chattering, my body shivering. Inside the house, the servants were still in hiding. As I searched for them, I also searched for a recorder. I rummaged through drawers and cabinets on the ground floor, finding nothing but a few batteries and bullets. Scowling, I pounded up the stairs to Kyrin’s room, where I left no corner or hollow untouched.

I discovered a feather boa and a straw cowboy hat in his closet—but I didn’t want to consider why he had those items.