Kelly Gay - The Better Part of Darkness

The dead cop and the wacky doctor. Imagine their surprise when my heart started beating again.

Thinking of Titus Mott made my blood pressure rise as I drove down the long, winding blacktop road framed by mature live oaks. The guy had saved my life. And we’d never spoken about what had happened in that room.

Mist had settled on the park-like grounds, and to my left, the moonlight reflected off the surface of a small lake. I’d left the window down to allow the crisp night air inside. The tangy smell of grass and leaves came with it. Bullfrogs echoed over the soft hum of the engine and the press of the tires on asphalt. It was beautiful out here; the kind of night that made me want to run, to leave all my troubles behind, race through the mist, and become part of the beauty all around me.

The road forked, drawing my attention back to the drive. I followed the visitor sign to the large, glass front entrance and parked in the reserved space closest to the main entrance. I hit the lights and turned off the ignition, the empty, dimly lit lot giving me the willies. Deep breath, Charlie.

The night air was cooler here in the woods surrounding the facility, refreshing and clean. I drew it inside of me in long inhalations, letting it calm me before moving to the door.

A circular reception desk and small lamp, still turned on, were visible through the glass front. There was no one waiting, and the door was locked. I stepped back, feeling like a moron. The security cameras caught my eye, and I turned in their direction, motioning toward the door. The bastards knew I was there. I resisted the urge to flip them the bird.

Keys finally jingled in the door. A short young man in a white lab coat slipped every key on the ring into the lock before finally getting the right one. Successful, he gave me a quick victory smile and shoved his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose.

“Sorry about that, Detective,” he mumbled as I entered the sterile lobby. He fell in step beside me, directing me across the polished wood floor to the executive elevator. “Doctor Mott is in his lab, but” —he slid a card key into the elevator slot—“he’s looking forward to speaking with you.”

Relief surged through me as I stepped into the elevator. “I wasn’t sure he’d remember me,” I confessed.

“Oh, no worries there. He never forgets a face or a name. Genius and all …” He pressed the sixth button.

Instinctively, I braced for the lift, but gasped as the elevator went down instead.

“Should’ve warned you about that. All the labs are underground.” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Andy Myers, Doctor Mott’s assistant. Well, one of them. He has a herd of us.”

I shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

We faced the doors, waiting in that polite yet awkward silence. I caught Andy staring intermittently at me and each time our eyes met, he smiled quickly and then looked away. It didn’t make an ounce of sense, but I had the feeling he was particularly excited to see me, like a kid with a juicy secret just itching to tell all his friends. His reaction made me more self-conscious than I already was.

Get over it, Charlie. Nothing to be nervous about.

I squared my shoulders and focused on the steel door in front of me, using the moment to tuck my hair behind my ears, scolding myself for not remembering to grab a clip before I’d left for The Bath House earlier. I rarely wore it down for work and was so used to having it up and out of my line of sight that when it was down, it became one of those incredibly irritating distractions. I should cut it all off; I just never could bring myself to actually do it.

The elevator came to a stop, gravity pulling me and my queasy stomach down for a fraction of a second before the doors slid open to reveal a long, white-tiled hallway. As soon as the opening was large enough, I darted between the doors. Being underground, being here, about to speak to Mott … I’d avoided this for so long. And now the walls closed in on me.

Andy joined me a second later. “This way,” he said, walking ahead of me.

I fell in step behind him, struck by the complete stillness and hush, like we had stepped into a vacuum of space. A faint chemical scent, similar to rubbing alcohol, hung in the air. Lab doors were evenly spaced, all with keypads and no windows. It suddenly seemed more like Fort Knox than a lab.

“Here we are.” Andy slid his key card into the slot attached to a door.

It was now or never. And I’d come too far to back out now. With a deep breath, I entered the lab as Andy clicked the door closed behind me.

He was here somewhere, lost in the cavernous space of stainless steel, lab tables, cabinets, and beakers. One corner of the lab looked like a hospital room, complete with a wall of one-way viewing glass. But what stunned me into stillness was the god-like being lying on the hospital bed secured in a series of straps. He was male, a red-haired throwback to the time of Viking warriors. A being so perfect he could be none other than Adonai, an Elysian divinity. He wore a white T-shirt and blue-and-white-striped pajama pants. His feet were bare. IVs stuck into the veins in his arm and the top of his right hand. Equipment monitored his breathing and brain patterns.

What the hell was this?

Abruptly, the Adonai turned his head and opened his eyes, staring directly at me. My heart stopped. His gaze bored into mine like twin heat-seeking missiles fueled by intense blue flame. An arched brow cocked. “Like what you see?” he asked in a husky voice ripped with contained rage.

A bang made me jump. Jesus! The metallic echo sent a shot of adrenaline through my nerves as someone ground out, “Mother—”

“Ahem!” Andy cleared his throat.

Shuffling. Another bang.

Titus Mott poked his head from behind one of the lab tables opposite the mock hospital room, slapped his hands on the table, and pushed to his feet. He grimaced as he rubbed a spot on the back of his head, messing his thick brown hair so that some of it stood up straight. It made him look like he’d just gotten out of bed.

“She’s here, Doctor,” Andy said.

“What?”

Andy motioned to me. “Detective Madigan.”

And just like that, I suddenly became the kid introduced to class mid-year. Standing in front of twenty faces and praying to be accepted and liked.

Mott adjusted his glasses. The frames were made of light wire and gave him an edgy, hip look. He was young for what he’d accomplished so far in his life. An interview he’d done with Forbes magazine said he was forty-eight. There was just the faintest hint of graying at his left temple. He hadn’t shaved in at least a day, maybe two.

He adjusted his lab coat, slipped something in his pocket, and then approached me with his hand outstretched. “It’s good to see you, Detective. Really good.” He shook my hand warmly, his smile genuine.

This was going a long way toward relieving my anxiety. Now if the Adonai would stop his creepy ogling, I’d actually feel somewhat normal. “I’m glad you still remember me.”

He motioned to Andy. “You can go, Andy. Thank you.” Andy nodded and quietly left the room. “How about we go into my office?”

With a quick glance at the Adonai, I followed Mott. I wanted to like the man who had saved my life, but the lab rat on the table was making it really difficult.

Mott’s office wasn’t the room behind the glass, but a far corner with a small rug, well-worn couch, and leather chair. An old, scratched-up coffee table sat in the center of the rug. “This is my home away from home,” he said, sitting on the couch with a sigh as the cushion gave in to his weight. “Please sit. You want coffee, tea, bottled water, soda?”