Dark Mysteries (13 page)

Ten

She
needed to go out. The idea hit her hard and fast and made her feel a
little sick. There was a quiet sort of determination in the thought.
She needed to go. There wasn't really a way around it. And she needed
to do it when she knew Xander would be gone for a while.

It
was the perfect time. He would be busy with Hannah and Elliott for at
least an hour. It wouldn't take her more than fifteen minutes. She
walked into the apartment to find the plastic container full of her
belongings. She grabbed her wallet and stuffed some money into it.
Slipping into her shoes, she looked over at Xander's closet of pain.
Before she had even decided to do so, she was moving into it,
grabbing one of the extendable batons, slipping it into the waistband
of her leggings, and pulling her t-shirt down to hide it.

Finding
a spare key to the front door turned out to be the biggest challenge.
After rummaging around in his desk for a few minutes, she pulled out
a giant key ring like the kind janitors carried, full of keys. She
set out on the task of finding which one fit into the front door lock
while standing just far enough into the office to not be seen by
anyone on the street. When she finally found it, and without any
pockets to store it, she pulled it off and slipped it inside her bra.

She
walked out the front door, her head titled down, and hailed a cab.
Normally, she hated wasting money on frivolous things like cab rides.
But she needed to get there as quickly as possible. And she needed to
not be seen.

The
taxi pulled off a few blocks away from her apartment building, out
front of a post office. She paid the driver and climbed out, rushing
inside. She turned toward the right once inside, going to the back
corner where her P.O box was located. She rummaged in her wallet for
her key, her hands shaking wildly. She was way too worked up. She
needed to get herself under control.

Ellie
opened the box, reaching inside, noticing the attendant at the desk
watching her. She recognized him. He had been there every time she
had ever gone to pick up her mail. Every two weeks. Like clockwork.
She shrugged off his glance, grabbing the three envelopes. One was
her check from the diner. Which, sever salary being what it was,
probably amounted to a whopping three dollars... if it wasn't a
voided check, that is. She folded it without opening it, slipping it
into her wallet. She reached for another envelope which had her P.O.
Box number and address, without her name. And was sent from a town in
Washington. No name. Or street address.

She
ripped it open, relived for his continued discretion. But, then
again, if there was anyone in the world who knew how important her
secrets needed to be kept, it was him.

E-

Money
is in the account. I prepped another bug-out bag and left it with a
friend. It has all the necessary identification, clothes, snacks, and
instructions for the next location. Get ready for an early summer. If
you need it, call me on the burner when you're out of the city and
I'll give you the address. THEN WIPE AND TOSS THE BURNER. I hope you
found a krav maga class like I suggested. You need to practice. -
K

She
took a deep breath, feeling guilty for not getting into another
class. He was right. He was always right about that kind of thing.
She opened the last envelope, another from him, with a pit in her
stomach. He never wrote twice.

E-

Where
the fuck are you? I haven't heard from you in over a week. You can't
miss your check-ins. If I don't hear from you in three days, I am
coming to the city. - K

Ellie
walked over toward the table, turning over the note and scribbling a
quick reply, feeling guilty as hell. She had missed her check-in. For
the first time ever. And that was unacceptable.

K-

Sorry.
He found me. I have help. Will keep you posted. - E

She
quickly grabbed an envelope and bought a stamp out of the machine,
filling it out and dropping it into the box.

It
was then that she saw the attendant still watching her. Not just
casually looking around, taking in the people. He was staring at her.
She glanced at him from under her lashes, her stomach clenching
tightly. Still watching her, he slowly picked up the phone. He pulled
something out of his desk, looking at it as he typed in the number.
She watched, horrified, as he started talking, his voice a whisper,
his hand blocking his face so no one could read his lips. His head
turned to her again, watching her and nodding.

Ellie
grabbed her wallet and ran. She knocked into someone at the door,
making him lose balance knock into the stamp machine. But she
couldn't stop.

Because
he was onto her. He knew about her P.O. Box. He had gotten to the
post office staff. Bribed them to call him if or when she showed up.

She
had a small, precious window of time to get the hell out of there.

She
took off on the street, away from her apartment, away from Xander's.
She slipped the string on her wallet around her wrist and grabbed the
baton in her hand, still folded in on itself. She veered down a side
street, knowing if she took it down four blocks, she could turn up
for three, and then take a turn to lead her all the way back to
Xander's. Right after she had moved there, she had spent hours
pouring over maps of the streets. Making routes. Then she would spend
the next day learning them. Until there was no fear of not knowing
how to get somewhere. Until there were no mistakes that could be
made.

“Eleanor,”
a voice shouted, making her heart jump into her throat. Not his
voice. But Bobby's. Just as bad. She didn't look. She knew he was
behind her. She knew that his legs were longer. She kept her eyes
forward, seeing the long road ahead. The buildings would get closer.
There would be no side streets to turn down for a long time. No way
to catch him off guard.

With
only a second's hesitation, she took an unplanned route down the
closest side street. It was the back alley to all the stores and
restaurants on the main street. Dumpsters, piles of cardboard, and
makeshift homeless huts littered it, making running awkward and
treacherous. Behind her, she heard Bobby curse followed by a slamming
sound. She pushed herself faster, taking the short reprieve to slip
down another alley.

“He
just wants to talk, El,” Bobby yelled, sounding further away
than he had been before.

He
never wanted to talk. He wanted to punch. And kick. And stab. And
choke. He wanted to kill people she loved to prove a point. He wanted
to drag her down in his basement prison and almost kill her. Almost.
But never do it. Because he wanted to get her well. Then do it all
over again.

Ellie
felt the angry words catch in her throat, pushing them away. Saving
her breath. Avoiding a pointless fight that would only slow her down.
She needed to run. She needed to think. She was prepared. She knew
the streets. If she could just stop thinking about him and...

She
threw herself down an alley to the left, a narrow space that if she
threw her arms out, she would be touching both walls. She sucked in
air, thanking her instincts to take up running as soon as she had
left him. Stamina. She needed so much stamina to get away. She jumped
over a pile of discarded shipping pallets. She heard Bobby crash into
them and took the chance to slip between two buildings, running up
and throwing open a door.

Inside,
she pulled it closed behind her, running in through the big,
restaurant kitchen. Someone
yelled
at her as she passed, but she moved through the door that would lead
her into the bar. The bar next door to the diner. She burst into the
main room, making the men at a back table stand up, reaching
inside
their jackets.

She
looked around for a split second, feeling unsure of herself. But he
would be right behind her soon.

“Panic
room,” she heard a woman to her side yell. She came barreling
out from behind the bar, her dark hair streaming behind her and
grabbing Ellie's arm. “She needs the fucking panic room,”
she yelled, pulling her behind her toward the men. “Move!”

The
men scrambled out of the way and the woman shoved a chair to the
side, reaching into the wall and opening a hidden door. She pulled
Ellie forward, slamming her into the room and closing the door behind
her.

Alone,
Ellie felt the cold wall against her back. She leaned forward, her
hands on her knees, trying to get her breath to slow down. The
bartender had said two blissful words, the only two words that were
keeping her from having an absolute panic attack at being locked up:
panic room. She was in a panic room.

Ellie
straightened. A panic room because she was in a mafia bar.

She
had never been in a panic room before. The idea had always stirred up
images of tiny cinder block-type structures, barely big enough to
turn around in. This was roughly the side of, well, a restaurant
dumpster. The walls were painted white and there was small bench that
ran along three sides of it, white boxes underneath which, she
assumed, held food and water... and knowing the club owners, weapons.
The door had a huge black wheel on it. To unlock. When it was safe.
And there was a small television screen mounted next to the door,
showing the image feed from the restaurant bar.

Ellie
watched in stunned silence as Bobby finally flew into the restaurant,
a gash above his right eyebrow bleeding half-heartedly down his
cheek. He was met immediately by four guns from the men, small black
things. Scary only because she knew how willing they were to use
them. The female bartender came out from behind the bar, like she had
been there all along, a shiny metal bat propped up against her
shoulder like she was walking to the plate.

There
was no sound on the video, but she saw Bobby throw his hands up,
shaking his head. Explaining. She saw his hand wave near his chest,
like indicating someone's height. The men shook their heads, putting
their guns back into their jackets. Vin, the owner, her savior one
night... now two times, pat the man on the back, turning him and
leading him to the front door.

Bobby
left, looking not the least bit suspicious. The men stood around for
a minute, eyeing the bartender, talking. But not angry. Almost calm.
As if it was commonplace. The bartender shook her head, looking at
the main door for a minute before finally walking back toward her
secret hideaway. She looked into the camera, waving around her hand
in a circle. Unlock the door.

Ellie
reached for it hesitantly, turning the wheel until the door clicked
and slid open. The woman pushed inside, closing the door and locking
it again. She still had her bat. Ellie backed up toward the back
wall, her legs pressing against the bench painfully. There was no way
to get sufficient distance away from her.

“Look,”
she said, putting her bat down, propped against the door, “I
don't know what the hell you have yourself involved in, and I am not
going to ask. But Xander is a good friend of mine...”

Oh,
god. Oh, great. Of course. In a city of eight million people, she
would get help from one of Xander's friends. Because that was just
her luck.

“I'm
not going to tell him,” the woman said, shaking her head,
watching the girl's blue eyes. “But you need to get your shit
together. Be more careful. I don't want you putting him in the middle
of your mess because you're being careless.”

“I
promise I won't do this again. I... this was stupid. I wasn't
thinking,” she mumbled on, feeling like she needed to talk,
even if it was to the woman who looked just as comfortable holding a
bat as she did holding a bottle of liquor. “I swear I will
just... bug-out if I think they are onto Xander. I don't want him to
get hurt because of me. Enough people have suffered already...”

The
woman nodded, relaxing a bit. “Good. I'm glad to hear it. Now,”
she said, her face looking serious, “was that just one of...”

“Yeah,”
Ellie cut in quickly, looking down at her feet.

“Christ,”
Faith said, taking a breath. “You know how to pick um, huh?”

“Unfortunately,”
Ellie said, looking up.

“His
work, I assume,” she said, gesturing toward her face. Ellie
nodded. And Faith nodded back. No sympathy in her expression, just a
sort of understanding. “Make him pay some day for it,”
she said, her words more of a demand than a suggestion. “Alright.
I think the coast will be clear for now. He wont want to come here.
Let's just say his organization and this organization are not on
friendly terms. Come on,” she said, unlocking the door.

Ellie
followed her out, noticing the men's eyes falling on her. Her eyes
found Vin's. He inclined his chin at her, nodding slightly. But said
nothing, turning to sit back down at his table.

“They
like you,” Faith said in her ear as she led her toward the
door. “You might have just given them a reason to go to war,”
she explained at Ellie's confused expression. She reached up to the
coat rack next to the door, grabbing a women's black leather jacket
and holding it out for Ellie to slip in. “Pull the hood up,”
she instructed. “Good thing you have sneakers on. It's going to
be a hell of a run back to Xander's.”