Elle Jasper - Afterlight

I showered and got ready for bed, but sleep evaded me. Instead of tossing restlessly, I wandered out onto the small balcony outside my bedroom. There was just enough room to stand, with a black, wrought-iron railing to keep me from tumbling over. I stood there and stared out into the night, watching the sliver of moon glimmer over the river. The night was still, and I felt vulnerable, not a feeling I particularly liked. My thoughts turned to Zac, a guy I didn’t even know, and how he’d been so young and had died so young. What had happened? I couldn’t help but wonder who’d done it, and think about how the killer right now walked the very streets my brother and I lived on. I mean, the Cotton Exchange building was two seconds from Inksomnia. I could see it from my back door.

I turned to leave, but before I stepped back inside, that gnawing feeling came over me once more — the one that made me look over my shoulder. I stared out into the night, into the afterlight, searching the darkness. I felt with all certainty that a pair of eyes watched me from the shadows. Swear to God, I couldn’t take much more. It was happening all too frequently, and frankly, it was pissing me off. Especially if it was that tough guy from the other night. I closed and locked the balcony door. I did not sleep well after.

Sometime later, I jerked wide-awake with a gasp and sat straight up. At the same time, I heard Chaz’s lowthroated growl. My blurred vision, groggy from sleep, scanned the dark corners of my room, straining to see. My insides froze. Someone was in my room. I slipped my hand slowly toward the back left bedpost, where I kept a baseball bat. My fingers gripped the handle. I slid my feet slowly to the floor and lifted the bat over my shoulder. A car ambled down the cobbles on the street below, and the headlights cast an illuminated arc across my bedroom wall — and my brother . Again, I gasped, taken off guard. “Seth? What are you doing?” I lowered the bat.

Seth didn’t speak or move; he stood completely still. I couldn’t see his expression now, but I had for a fleeting second as the car had passed. He’d looked . . . vacant, angry. I won’t lie — it scared the hell out of me. What scared me even more was that I hadn’t loosened my grip on the bat.

“Seth?” I said, not too loud, but definitely assertive. “What’s up, Bro? Are you sick?”

Chaz now stood and had taken a few steps toward my bed. His growling grew louder. Seth remained silent.

“Hey,” I said, and eased toward him. “Want me to — ”

“No,” Seth finally said. His voice sounded . . . different. Strained. Deeper.

“Okay, okay,” I said, forcing myself to remain calm. “I’m going to turn on the light — ”

“No!” Seth yelled, and lunged at me. Chaz lunged at Seth, knocked him down, and latched onto his arm. Seth cried out in pain, struggling to shake Chaz’s grip loose. “Get off me!” he cried, and shoved Chaz hard with his free hand. The dog flew across the room and landed against the wall with a shrill yelp. He immediately leapt up and charged Seth.

“Chaz, no!” I yelled, and ran to grab his collar. Seth slammed out of my room, and seconds later the back door downstairs crashed against the wall. Yanking on the shorts I’d worn earlier, I slid into my flip-flops and took off after my brother. What was wrong with him? I ran outside, the heavy, early-morning air thick and soupy as a mist rolled in from the river; I closed the back door and searched both sides of merchant’s drive but found no signs of Seth anywhere. With my heart in my throat, I edged up the cobbles, ducked into the narrow alley that led to River Street, and hurried to the line of storefronts facing the river. I found myself alone, and I continued up the river walk at a jog. “Seth?” I called out. “Seth!” No answer. I still found myself alone at the west end, past the Hyatt, then made my way up to Factor’s Walk and searched Bay Street. The early-hour fog hung like a cloud, and it slipped in and out of the oaks like inching fingers. The air was still; not even the slightest of breezes moved through the moss. I stood still, watched, and listened. Nothing. There was absolutely no sign of my brother.

It was at that point that I realized someone stood close by, and this time it wasn’t just a crazy feeling that someone watched me. I knew it. I was sure it wasn’t Seth. My adrenaline surged as my gaze roamed the area. Shadows fell and stretched from the lampposts, the parking meters hugging the curb, the storefront awnings, and trees; it was impossible to search every nook. I turned and walked up the cobbles, and just as I ducked into the alley next to Inksomnia I was shoved hard against the wall; my breath whoosh ed from my lungs. With my front pressed to the bricks and a hard body pressed against my back, I hadn’t a clue who held me — until he spoke. There was no mistaking that smooth voice and odd tinge of accent.

“Do you have a death wish?” he said, his voice low and annoyed, his mouth brushing my hair, close to my ear. “Or are you just fucking crazy?”

I tried to push against him, but he held me tight. “You’re grating the side of my face into the brick, ass-hole. Get off me,” I said.

“Your face is the last thing you need to worry about.” He eased up a fraction, enough for my skin to separate from the mortar. I felt his mouth against my ear, and, swear to God, he sniffed my hair. “It’s not safe out here.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to get that,” I said, trying to look behind me, pushing against his steely weight. “What’s your problem? Why are you on me?” Worse was the fact that there was something I found exciting about him. I had no idea what it was — he’d threatened me twice now.

“Get inside and stay there. Understand?”

I did not like being bullied or told what to do. “You don’t know me, and you definitely don’t scare me,” I said angrily. “And I’m not out here for my friggin’ health, so why don’t you back off !” I growled, and shoved hard against him. It was like trying to move a packed freezer. Not a single inch budged.

Suddenly, my body shifted from the wall and pushed up the steps. “What the f — ”

“Move,” he said, and this guy’s hands wrapped around my waist to keep me from hauling ass. He all but pushed me along.

“What the hell?!” I said, struggling against him but finding it was no use.

“Shut up and come on,” he said. “You need to see something.”

I continued to thrash despite the uselessness of it. Now it was on principle. I wasn’t going to just meander along at his command.

For the first time in a long, long time, I felt vulnerable, but I’d chew my own arm off before letting him know it.

At the top of the steps he guided me across the walk and up merchant’s drive, then down the narrow, dank alley between Inksomnia and the Boho Boutique, where he gave me a shove. I stumbled, caught myself against the tabby wall (made of oyster shell and sand mortar), then sucked in a gasp. The strong scent of urine and metal filled my nostrils, and my quick reflexes jerked me back so fast that I fell against him ; his steely grip held me upright. The streetlamp behind the Boho poured a hazy amber glow into the alley and onto the sprawled figure on the ground, unnaturally positioned as though all the bones were broken. I stared, unable to look away, my voice trapped inside my throat, at the body of a young male, his chest and throat literally flayed open . A dark substance splashed against the tabby wall behind him, splattered around his body. Blood . Wide, glassy eyes stared lifeless in the lamplight, and my hand flew to my mouth as I pushed against him to get away. “He’s freaking dead,” I said out loud, and looked into the face still hidden by shadows, at the one who’d forced me to this place. “You,” I whispered. I gagged, turned, and fought with fists against him. “Let me go!” I said, choking, and in the next instant my body shifted, and once again I found myself pressed against Inksomnia’s back-door entrance.