Darklight 2: Darkthirst Page 14

  The realization dawned over everyone. I put my chin into my hand, resting my elbows on my knees. The Bureau had told me they weren’t aware of the vampires’ abilities. That’s why they had supposedly been skeptical about the vampires working alongside us. I had happily gone along with the missions involving Dorian and Kane, eager to show that we could use their capabilities for good in society. If the Bureau knew this entire time, why would they put on such an elaborate song and dance at the training facility and for the Amish mission?

  “Humans lie,” Oleah announced loudly from the sidelines. “That much is obvious.”

  Hart nodded beside her, his stony face pointed toward where they’d taken Dorian.

  Should I loudly remind them we aren’t part of the Bureau anymore?

  “A dark energy weapon,” Sabal bit out grimly. Myndra whispered something in her ear, and the two of them glared at the gathered humans.

  Rhome cleared his throat to gain attention. Without Dorian, he and the others would need to direct things for the other vampires. “It’s been a long day. Let’s try to keep things quiet for Dorian to rest.”

  On that note, the gathering slowly broke up. Bravi and Laini went back to check on Dorian. Sike stayed with us as Rhome went off to discuss something with the other vampires. They spoke in huddled circles, never a good sign.

  “How could the Bureau know about dark energy for so long?” Zach wondered aloud. “From everything we’ve ever been taught about that part of Bureau history, nobody knew anything about it. So, what, it was only after vampires disappeared that the Bureau discovered it? That makes no sense.”

  “Could the Bureau have learned about dark energy from the captive, tortured vampires?” I asked Bryce. “That’s how the Bureau learned about the Immortal Plane, supposedly.” I emphasized the last word. Everything could’ve been a lie or a cleverly spun half-truth.

  Uncle Alan’s story of his teammates came to my mind. How much of it was true? Perhaps he’d made the whole thing up in an attempt to mend our broken bond, playing on my empathy and our family connection to get me to stay and turn on the vampires. I thought again of his cold tone as he discussed wiping out the vampires, how he had lied to my face about letting me leave, how he had allowed the torture of my innocent teammates… and I knew, even if that story was true, he had broken my trust in so many other ways, I would never be able to entirely trust him again.

  The thought felt foreign, spurred by plaintive hope, quickly overwhelmed by grief. I shied away from it. Just thinking about it was painful.

  “The tortured vampires,” Grayson abruptly said in a raspy voice. “I don’t even want to think about what happened to them.” He shuddered in his seat beside Louise on a threadbare cushion. With the makeup wiped away, his bruises looked horrific. He held a chunk of ice wrapped in a towel against his face.

  My rage at the Bureau reached new levels. Lying about dark energy and beating their own soldiers? The Bureau had tortured my team. Tortured vampires. So much for protecting and preserving life.

  “What happened to your team when you went back, Roxy?” I asked.

  Roxy sat beside Gina, who was wrapping Roxy’s finger.

  “Oh, it was a heartwarming reunion,” Roxy replied in an acidic, mocking voice. “They dragged us all in front of the board, seriously unhappy that you’d gotten away. Finley testified that she’d only seen Louise and Colin fighting back, but the board didn’t give a damn about that. They treated us all like dissenters and… interrogated us. They wanted to know what you and the vampires might do next.”

  “What did you tell them?” I asked.

  “The truth and then some,” Roxy said, with no shame. “I thought I was being loyal to my organization. To my home.” She paused, jaw tensing. “But they didn’t care about the truth. Our statements went utterly ignored. We were arrested and beaten for information, and then they detained us without access to anyone.”

  “Not even to your families? Or a lawyer?” I asked. My own parents were probably worried sick. It was strictly against the law to refuse a prisoner at least one call to a third party, often to a parent or a lawyer. But as absolutely disgusting as it was that the Bureau had trampled over their basic human rights, how could I even be surprised at this point? Vampire genocide meant they were willing to take drastic measures to further their agenda.

  “They didn’t care,” Roxy said with a grunt. “They marched us into those cells and spent a long time explaining how we would cooperate with laying a trap for you when you came to discuss things. Then they told us that story about vampires killing innocents.”

  Sike, hovering at the edge of the conversation, frowned. “So that’s the angle they’re taking.”

  “Did they show you any evidence?” It was the sole thing I’d asked for during the interview.

  Roxy shook her head. “No. They just told us to trust them,” she said and grimaced. “We were angry and confused.”

  They still were. I’m right there with you. The thought of Uncle Alan being involved in this sent a new wave of fury and confusion over me. No, not Uncle Alan anymore. It was too difficult to think of him among my family right now.

  “I’m sorry that happened to you,” I said. “The Bureau was wrong to treat you like that.”

  Bravi emerged quietly from the chamber, her eyes surveying the room.

  “Wrong?” Roxy echoed, angry. “Wrong doesn’t even begin to cover it. And I’m furious. I’ve lived my whole life for the Bureau. But in that cell, I realized something. How can I trust anything the Bureau has done? If they are willing to do this to their own soldiers, then who knows what else they’ve been up to. Or what they’ll do in the future.”

  “I agree,” Louise said in a softer voice. She jerked to her feet and immediately stumbled to the side. Sike reached to steady her, but she shrugged his hand away. “Grayson didn’t even do anything. I watched them beat him until he was black and blue.” She trembled.

  The thought of Grayson’s beating seemed to hurt her more than her own injuries. From her face, I could tell she must feel intense guilt about getting him hurt since she was the one who first helped me by attacking Finley.

  Bravi cleared her throat loudly. Roxy’s face burned with embarrassment as she met the vampire’s gaze. Their last interaction had been less than stellar. This was the first time they’d acknowledged each other since we tied Roxy up in the cave.

  “About before,” Roxy began. “I wasn’t trying to—I didn’t mean to be rude.”

  “It’s fine,” Bravi replied shortly. “You got your butt kicked, and now you’re back.” Her tone had been joking, but it fell flat.

  They looked away from one another. Were they going to try to be friends again?

  I tapped my fingers against my knees, wondering how much time had passed since our getaway. My stomach growled.

  “It’s got to be late,” I said. “We should eat and get to bed. We’ll think better tomorrow after some rest and food.”

  “We have food?” Grayson asked with a hopeful face. “They didn’t really feed us in confinement.”

  I sighed, knowing our offerings were measly. “Well, we have oatmeal.”

  “Better than nothing,” Roxy muttered.

  It took about half an hour to cook and eat the thin porridge, but it was much needed for those of us who had been involved in yet another near escape. After food, everyone got ready for bed. Roxy and Grayson staggered, their bodies clearly aching. Grayson was stiffer than he’d been in HQ. Gina prepared a bowl of ice for him to keep next to his bunk.

  I catalogued injuries, my anger growing as I reflected on what the Bureau had done to my friends.

  The Bureau had taught my team how to help those afflicted with all forms of injuries, from those inflicted in combat to accidental injuries that could occur while on exercise to wounds incurred by interrogation tactics. In my early years at the Bureau, I hadn’t realized they themselves would be so good at hurting other people. It was devastating to see the results of the
same horrifying tactics we’d been shown, manifested in front of me.

  Louise hadn’t been allowed to sleep while confined by the Bureau. Over and over again, she was catching herself tipping over. I caught her now, shaking her head like something was stuffed in her ears. I hoped she would sleep tonight. I wasn’t sure what else they’d done to her. Possibly white noise exposure? She seemed to have issues processing sound.

  Grayson’s heavy bruises were no doubt from his beating. There were visible outlines of fingers on his face from aggressive facial holds.

  Roxy’s stiffness showed possible signs of stress positioning. Her legs strained painfully when she moved. My stomach knotted. She was supposed to lead her team in a victorious mission to acquire the dissenters, and this was how her efforts had been rewarded. Her beating, like Grayson’s, was clear from her bruises.

  Colin appeared to have escaped major wounding, but his attackers had covered his body in minor cuts and bruises. The Bureau must’ve settled for “lighter” strategies with him, though there was nothing light about interrogation methods like attention grasps. Maybe they hadn’t gotten around to him yet.

  Grief filled me. A few months ago, if someone had told me the Bureau would be willing to lie to and torture its own soldiers, I would’ve refused to believe it. The injuries would heal, I hoped, before we had another major run-in with the Bureau. The mental afflictions they had suffered might last a lifetime.

  Equally concerning was whether Dorian would heal from their sadistic weapon.

  I listened carefully after everyone settled into their beds. Sleep was necessary.

  But…

  It wouldn’t hurt to check on Dorian.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Vampires and humans alike had vacated the central area. The main fire was burning low, little more than glowing coals. The several other smaller fires set on the ground around the space were all heading for a similar state. Inky shadows and red light filled the room. My silhouette cut through the flickering illumination as I slunk across the cavern on silent feet.

  Dorian was in a room closer to the entrance. Giving a final glance over my shoulder, I slipped through the curtain, hoping to find him sleeping peacefully. I just wanted to know he was okay.

  As my eyes adjusted to the gloom, my breath caught in my throat.

  Dorian was sitting up in his bed, leaning against the wall. Gone was the crazed look from earlier. Instead, he looked exhausted. My eyes softened. He’s been through hell today.

  “Lyra,” he said hoarsely, voice nearly breaking. He forced himself to sit up straighter. His muscles strained from the movement, but he managed with a straight face.

  I cautiously moved closer to him. “Are you feeling okay?”

  He closed his eyes and gave a nod. Every motion seemed to take an immense amount of energy. “I’m in my right mind,” he said cheerlessly. “I can’t say I feel physically great. It feels like I got put through a meat grinder.”

  I resisted a grimace in the face of his agony. “Can I sit here?” I asked, gesturing to the edge of the bed. Although I told myself this was just a quick visit, his behavior earlier had me worried. If he went for Bravi in his distressed state, then I should be careful. I’d faced him before when he was out of control, but this time was completely different. If the vampires had struggled to restrain him, what chance did I have? I hated to believe he might hurt me, but I needed to be careful.

  “Yes. I won’t attack you. I promise,” he said.

  I eased myself onto the end of the bed. While I wanted to be close to him, I still needed distance between us.

  “Thank you,” he said abruptly.

  I cocked my head to the side. “For what?”

  “For your bravery… and for saving my life,” he replied. “I know it was painful for you. You’re strong, Lyra. That’s one of the things I like about you.”

  I twisted my fingers together, suddenly nervous. His comment made me happy, but it was charged with something more than friendship. Our moment on the redbill felt like two weeks ago. It had only been today. I shook my head, trying to make sense of it all. My heart slammed against my chest under his warm gaze.

  Just friends. Just friends who save each other from peril every other day.

  “You would’ve done the same for me,” I said, and I knew he would have. “And thank you for sparing Alan’s life. I know it was incredibly difficult for you.” I looked down at my lap, picking at a new tear on my uniform made by the shattered glass in the interrogation room. A small part of me wasn’t sure he was worth it.

  Alan had held a significant place in my life until all this happened with the Bureau. Remembering our moment in the interrogation room sent chills down to my bones. As if my own observations weren’t enough to unsettle me, the fact that Dorian had responded so strongly to something in a director of the Bureau was damning. Just how dark was Alan?

  It couldn’t be denied: his darkness had already caused so much pain for everyone. To the vampires, to Roxy and the others, to our family. But he was still related to me. Some primal part of myself felt torn over it. If Dorian had killed him, I would’ve lost part of my family, as well as the answers I so desperately needed. Was he truly evil? Everything I had come to learn about him in recent days showed that he was. It was an awful thought to consider, but the evidence continued to mount. In which case, the more important question was… could it be cured?

  I tried to keep my breath steady and pushed the thoughts away.

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to ask Dorian about Alan. It was possible he might confirm my worst fears, and I wasn’t ready for that yet. Not after the hell today had been.

  “How are you?” Dorian asked. His hand crept a fraction closer to mine on the blanket.

  I paused. Yeah, Lyra. How are you? How’s the constant emotional wreckage going?

  How was I? Tired. I was tired. “Today exhausted me,” I answered truthfully. “But I’m not in pain anymore. Well, except for a few bruises.”

  He leaned forward slowly, wincing as he did so, and traced a scrape running the length of my cheek. “I didn’t do that, did I?”

  I shivered involuntarily at his touch. Heat flickered in my belly. As desperately as I wanted to lean into him, I shifted backward a fraction, moving out of reach. “No, it wasn’t you. Landing was a little bumpy, that’s all.”

  He nodded, settling back again, though whether it was because he had run out of energy to hold himself upright or because he had noticed my subtle retreat, I couldn’t be sure.

  A charged air settled between us. If I wasn’t in pain anymore, it could mean Dorian’s feelings for me had waned. As we’d planned in our desperate mission for friendship.

  Our conversation didn’t scream friendship.

  It reeked of intimacy. Dangerous intimacy. I swallowed my worry.

  “The battle against the Bureau won’t be easy,” Dorian said suddenly. “I was foolish to ever think it would be.”

  It was so hard, seeing him drained and defeated. I wanted to take his hand, so much that I had to ball my hand into a fist to prevent myself from acting on the urge.

  “You couldn’t have known. None of us knew,” I assured him. If I took his hand, it would only make things harder. He needed to rest. We needed to plan tomorrow. “You should get some sleep.”

  I made to stand, but Dorian lifted a hand.

  “Please. Can… can you stay?” he asked.

  My stomach flipped. Could I? Sure. Should I? That was a different matter. Staying meant straying to the edge of a perilous precipice I wasn’t entirely sure I had the strength to resist.

  “I need a friend,” he said, emphasizing the last word.

  I swallowed a lump in my throat. “Are you sure?” I asked. “You should rest.”

  “It’s been a rough day, a good portion of which I don’t remember beyond a vague sense that I did something awful against my own will.” He sagged, his face barely visible. “Honestly, I don’t particularly want to be on my own right now. C
an you keep me company… as a friend?”

  That was the million-dollar question. I wanted to be able to be friends, but my romantic feelings pushed savagely against that desire. When I looked at Dorian, I felt happy in ways I never knew were possible. The word “friend” sent a pang of hurt through me, even though I knew it was what both of us needed to be for our own safety and that of those around us.

  But I stayed. I would probably always stay with him.

  I settled on the other side of the bed, facing him even though I could barely see his face in the darkness. An occasional flicker of firelight darted through a tear in the blanket covering the entrance, gouging crimson slices into his face.

  His eyelids drooped, and his breathing deepened. “Thank you.”

  “We don’t have to talk about the Bureau,” I reminded him.

  He nodded slowly. “I’d rather talk about anything else,” he confessed. “How bad was I earlier? I don’t remember.”

  I wasn’t surprised by this, considering how long it took four vampires to drain the excess dark energy out of him.

  “You were…” I paused, searching for the right word.

  “Deranged?” The smirk was audible in his voice.

  “Deranged is a good word,” I said with a short laugh. At least he could see the humor. “But you seem much better now. I don’t think anyone was happy to feed on you, though.”

  He shook his head. “What a bizarre moment that must’ve been.”

  “I wish you could’ve seen it,” I said. “Equal parts terrifying and baffling.” I shuddered at the memory, then tried to switch to a lighter topic. “Almost as bizarre as me getting a redbill to put its forehead in my palm.”

  “You did?” he asked, interested despite his fatigue. “You must’ve paid attention.”

  I’d tried to pay attention. Not an easy task when Dorian was around.

  “Colin is better with them,” I admitted, shrugging. But I managed!

  Dorian merely hummed slightly in response. I went on talking, knowing he was quickly falling asleep. I talked about anything I could think of. My childhood memory of putting a girl on the playground into my first chokehold. Zach losing a tooth at age fifteen in an unfortunate board game dispute. The debate among my team that had been rolling since basic training several years ago about which was the best flavor of toaster pastries.