Into the Darkness

Chapter Eight

I leaned closer to the tarnished metal, only then seeing two hairline cracks. Hearing the door handle jiggle, I stuffed my fingers into the space between the metal and canvas and yanked, lifting the metal an inch as if it was on a hinge. A loud pop echoed in the room, the left side of the picture pushed out farther than the right side. A crack formed in the wall under the frame, indicating that it was, indeed, a doorway.

A muffled voice drifted through the door. “I might go find a human of my own for the night. I’d forgotten what fun they can be. Plus, I could use a little drinkie.”

The far door was opening, but I didn’t want to wait. I struggled with the weight of the secret door, slipped through, and pulled it shut with the gleaming handle on the back. It closed with a soft click, cutting off another man saying, “Let’s share one—”

These people—or whatever the hell they were—had an absentee view on morals!

I turned into the room and blinked. It wasn’t from confusion this time. It was pitch black. I couldn’t see anything; not even my hand in front of my face. Not even my hand touching my face!

“Not good,” I whispered, just to have something to focus on.

I took a big breath, preventing myself from groping blindly. Partly I was scared what my hands would touch, and partly I’d look a fool, and had a sneaking suspicion that whatever these beings were, they could see a lot better than me in the dark. You don’t have shadow clinging to you when you move just to have a hard time navigating the night…

Closing my eyes so the darkness felt like a choice, I focused on that feeling in my chest, looking for guidance from my female intuition. The heat pulsed and throbbed, opening up like a flower and spreading out, making my skin feel tightly stretched trying to contain it.

Opening my eyes again, the medium-sized, rectangular room before me burst into life. Colors of the rainbow swirled and flexed around me, running through the walls and along the ground. In the middle of the room crouched two couches, defined by the absence of color within that space. I noticed a few other pieces of furniture, like tables and a chair or two, also identified by a black hole, but if I wasn’t hallucinating, the room seemed pretty bare.

At the end of the square space to the right was a corridor. My feet were moving straight ahead before my mind caught up with it. I crossed the room with easy strides, dipped into the corridor and started jogging down what must be the middle of the fortress-house.

Before I got far, though, a strange feeling nudged me. I’d just passed through the Boss’s secret room, I was sure of it. Just like I could sense when that nosey bugger waited outside my apartment, I just knew. And something—the same sixth sense that led me to this house—told me I needed to leave my mark. He needed to know without a doubt that it was me. When that voice spoke, I listened, end of story.

The only problem was, there was only one way that he’d be sure, without a doubt, who passed through.

“I cannot believe I am even contemplating this!”

I went to one of the plush couches that my butt identified as leather, laid down, and paused.

“No. Just…no.”

As I moved to get up, a surge of doubt washed over me. I had to leave a mark. He had to know. Why? I had no idea. But I knew he did.

“Damn you, inner compass,” I whispered, settling back down.

“What has my life become when I’m in a stranger’s room, about to—“

I didn’t bother finishing that thought. My hand snuck into my britches. I could feel my face burning in embarrassment.

Almost unbidden, the image of those people on the couch surfaced. Of his greedy plunges and her writhing body under him. Then the Boss’s body and intimidating pressure pushing into me. His hands, coating my body, feeling between my—

“Holy—“

I shuddered barely before I’d even begun.

“—crap,” I panted. Well, that was pretty painless.

That done, I jumped up and sprinted down the corridor, my inner compass probably laughing its butt off that I actually went through with it.

The walls climbed with colors, throbbing as if they had a heart. Letting that weird sixth sense continue to guide me, stronger now than I could ever remember, I wound my way through the building, ignoring occasional doors to my left or right, until finally my skin was crawling and my butt cheeks tingling. It was my danger sensor.

That aggressive shadow guy was on the other side of the door in front of me, I had no doubt. And he was dangerous. Breathing deeply, I suddenly wondered how smart this was.

And yes, that thought should have occurred to me long before now.

I took stock of the situation—I was about to barge into a scene with a huge, violent guy who wished me harm. He had wanted to hurt me that other night, I could feel it. He wasn’t good or just, he was bad news, untrustworthy and vile. But he hadn’t hurt Jared. He obviously didn’t have morals, but even still, Jared was most likely physically okay.

Plus, how the hell was I going to save him? I wouldn’t come out on top in a fist fight, my sword only scared envelopes, and I had no combat experience.

That’s when a muffled scream pushed through the wall and pierced my gut.

Never mind. Jared needed help, and this just got real.

I stepped through the door.