Night Whispers: ShadowLands, Book 1 (25 page)

Her knapsack had been thoughtfully laid on the floor next to her. She rummaged around and found her switchblade, the familiar weight reassuring her.

Through a small slit in the curtains of the living room she was in, she could see that the sun had risen, though not by much. The room was furnished in late 20
^th
-century vintage. The couch she was sitting on was probably from her great-grandmother’s era, and the amount of floral prints in the place could choke a gardener. She made her way through an archway and found herself in a hallway that led to the front door. To her right was a staircase. She vaguely recalled glimpsing an unconscious Carrie last night when Erik had taken her upstairs to wash Shadow gunk off her. That was probably the best place to begin her search.

Closed doors greeted her at the top of the stairs. She tried the first door. The hinges creaked loudly, the movement causing a horde of dust mites to hit the air. She listened quietly. Nothing. She investigated two more bedrooms, twitching aside curtains and peering under beds.

The house was clean but had that general feeling of neglect. If someone or something had been using it, they’d left a while ago.

Perhaps, she mused, as she pushed framed photos face-down on the hall table without looking at them, whoever had lived here had been rescued. If there were multiple governments in the States alone, maybe there was at least one up North here too.

Little fictions like that always made invading someone’s home slightly less distasteful.

She finally found Carrie in the room that she probably would have chosen to borrow, since it had the least personal possessions in it—no photos or mementos, just a cross on the wall, simple dark wood furniture and a double bed with a blue-and-white spread on it.

Erik had pulled the girl’s shoes and clothes off. She was dressed in what looked like one of Jules’s shirts with the sleeves ripped off. The bandage on her arm was spotted with blood. Her skinny frame barely took up any space on the bed.

Carrie’s eyes were closed, her breathing deep and even. Jules laid her hand against the girl’s forehead. Well, one thing hadn’t changed. Unlike Jules’s, this fever hadn’t broken. Carrie’s skin was burning to the touch.

Oh, the guilt, that the presence of the teen’s fever gave Jules a small measure of relief. No matter how suspicious Erik might be, she couldn’t believe he would leave the sick girl with only a passed-out Jules on the couch.

Her bravado slipped, allowing the truth in. She could handle things on her own, as she’d so aptly demonstrated. But it was nice to have someone else around.

Plus, with James out of contact with her, Erik was the only person in the world she could call her friend. She didn’t want to lose him as quickly as she’d found him.

There was a glass and a large pitcher of water on the dresser, next to her first-aid kit. Her packet of drinking tablets also lay open next to the pitcher, and after a quick sniff of its slightly chlorinated contents, Jules figured the water had been rendered safe for consumption.

Jules downed two glasses of water, all the while eyeing the attached bathroom. She really ought to go in there and examine herself thoroughly.

In a second.

When Jules caught herself reaching for the pitcher again, she checked herself. She wasn’t thirsty. In fact, if she drank any more, her bladder might burst.

She made a face. No more avoidance. She’d look herself over, confirm she was fine, find Erik, find her earpiece and find James. Boom, boom, boom, done and done.

She went into the bathroom and set the first-aid kit on the vanity. Mustering all of her courage, she licked her lips and looked at her reflection in the mirror.

The woman facing her in the vanity mirror was a certified wreck. Eyes bloodshot, huge bags under them. But those eyes were still dark, not silver.

If only she could say the same about other things.

Her hand shook as she touched her hair. The left-hand side had turned almost completely white. Streaks decorated the dark brown on the right.

Jules breathed so deep she was hit with a round of lightheadedness. She’d dyed her hair a few times in her youth, funky colors like pink or blue. There had been no time for that sort of thing since the Illness.

Though she wanted to run away and hide, she pulled up her big-girl panties and leaned in. This wasn’t a dye job. The hair had lost pigment all the way to the roots. This close, the color didn’t look quite like the characteristic silver white of the Shadows, but more like a very light blonde, possibly due to the way it blended with the remaining dark color of the rest of her hair.

Holy. Shit. She jerked away, unwilling to look at the ugliness any longer.

Her hip bumped into the partially open door, and it closed.

The noise startled her, and the first-aid kit fell to the floor. She cursed softly and bent to pick it up.

Jules stopped in the middle of stooping and stared at the kit. The kit she could see.

There were no windows in this interior room. It was pitch-dark, and yet she could see everything. Her hands, the sink and toilet. She glanced up. Even her reflection in the mirror. Everything was as clear to her as if the lights were on.

The sun had vanished, leaving behind a pitch-black night. She couldn’t see her surroundings anymore, but oddly enough, James was completely visible.

Her heart pounded. So stupid, not to have realized as soon as she woke up. Morning might have arrived outside, but the house was almost completely curtained off. She had been able to navigate it with no flashlight.

She hadn’t escaped unscathed at all.

She left the kit where it lay and flew out of Carrie’s room. Even in her increasing panic, Jules made sure to keep the door open a crack so she could hear the girl if needed.

Jules made her way back through the living room and opened a swinging door, which led to a kitchen lit by the soft glow of an oil lamp set on the table.

She was so worried she didn’t even bother to gasp at the sight that greeted her here. Not because the dated décor also looked like it had vomited roses at some point, but because of the fully nude male facing away from her. She caught a glimpse of two perfect globes of backside and a narrow waist before she slammed her eyes shut and whirled around.

“Jesus! Erik. Put some pants on,” she blurted out.

A splash sounded behind her. “I’m bathing.” His voice was mild and uninterested.

The confirmation that she hadn’t been left alone here to discover her new freakish ability made her resort to kid-sister waspishness. “In the kitchen? What kind of a fuckin’ weirdo bathes in the kitchen? For God’s sakes, man, find a bathroom. With a door. And a lock.”

A loud splash. “I promised myself I would not bathe in frigid temperatures again if I could avoid it. The range is gas and is quite good at heating water.”

She grumbled, “At least call out a warning. It’s common decency, man.”

“I apologize. I had decency beaten out of me long ago.”

There it went again, her heart clenching. She was too damn much of a softie. “I need to talk to you. I’ll wait for you in the living room.”

She didn’t realize he had followed her until she turned and found him standing there with nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips.

She wasn’t interested in him like that, that was for sure, but she’d have to be dead not to take a quick peek at all that naturally tanned skin stretched over bulging muscles.

Not too long ago, he’d made all the women at Sanctuary sigh. The changes in him might put some of those women off, but there would still be a good number of them who’d probably trip over themselves to comfort the poor, wounded soldier. His new look of tanned skin, white hair and silver eyes was compelling. He came to stand right in front of her, and she realized that she shouldn’t have sat. It put her at eye level with where his fist knotted the towel at his waist. Flushing, she jumped to her feet.

He studied her hair in silence for a moment. She waited for him to exclaim something.

“How do you feel?”

Not what she’d expected. “I know men don’t notice a lot of appearance changes, but I’m guessing you can see that I look like a tie-dyed skunk.”

“It’s not so bad. Rather striking, really.”

“Are you shitting me?” She tugged at her hair. “What does this mean? For that matter, what does it mean that I can see in the dark?”

No shock or surprise was forthcoming at that announcement. Had she imagined that brief moment of emotion when he’d found her covered by the Shadow? His tenderness in washing the blood off her? Erik was back to his distant, shut-down self. “Can you now?”

“Yes.” His calm acceptance rubbed her the wrong way, as if he had been prepared for her to wake up…changed. “Why aren’t you more surprised than this?”

“I believe the changes started yesterday. It was full dark last night when we came to the house, yet you appeared to be able to see everything.”

Jules groaned. Now that he mentioned it, it was glaringly obvious. Neither of them had been carrying a flashlight, yet Carrie, Erik and her surroundings had been visible.

She’d been sick. That excused her thickness, right?

He nodded at her hair. “Plus your hair had already turned.”

Realization dawned. “You jerk. You could see me when you were bathing me, couldn’t you?”

“I told you, I wasn’t looking.” His lips twisted. “You have nothing to fear. I haven’t felt sexual desire in a long time.”

“But your night vision is like mine.”

“Yes. Like the Shadows. It comes along with the loss of pigment in the pupil.”

“Why haven’t my eyes changed color?”

That gave him pause. “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “Though I believe they were trying very hard to isolate the part of the virus that changed humans physiologically from the part that changes humans mentally and physically. Perhaps…perhaps they succeeded in doing something right with you, though your hair was not spared. Or maybe you will lose the pigment later.”

“I could change more? Later?”

“You could change in ten years. I don’t know if you’ve been hearing me this whole time. Who. Knows.”

That was a really scary thought. She would never know what she was. Or who she was. Or how much more of her humanity would be lost.

Fucking
scientists.

“Perhaps your eyes are as photosensitive as mine are.”

“I’ll go outside later.” She could go now. But she didn’t know if she could process the loss of daylight this very moment. “It’s cloudy anyway.”

“I wonder what other abilities you share with me,” he mused. “Do you feel stronger? Faster? Hungry for some type A?”

“You’re gross. No. To all three.”

“Hmm. Not yet, anyway.” Erik shook his head. “Still so eager to return to your beloved Compound? Not knowing what you are or what you could be? Your future, your body, is as uncertain as mine now, Jules.”

God, he was persuasive. A wiggle of doubt crept into her fantasy that everything would be okay once James came. She had prepared herself for the possibility of her death or her survival, and like a stupid child, hadn’t considered the ramifications in the off chance something in between could occur.

Well, she was crossing that fucking bridge now, and it wasn’t pretty.

James not liking her anymore or abandoning her didn’t scare her. People leaving was something she was used to. It was the scenario in her dream that really terrified her. If he was as honorable as she figured he was, he would be compelled to stand by the side of the new Jules.

She
didn’t even know anything about the new her. She wasn’t human. But she wasn’t like Erik either. As of right now, all she could do was see in the dark, a parlor trick that would probably make James’s geeky heart go pitter pat.

What if in five years she started craving blood?

What if in ten years she turned Shadow?

What if she hurt James?

“…like you’re going to be sick.”

“What?”

His hand grasped her elbow. “Do you need to throw up?”

She shook her head. “No. No.”

“Are you hungry?”

Her stomach was too uneasy to eat, but she knew she’d have to eventually put some food into it. “Not particularly.”

“Are you sure you aren’t craving human blood?”

“Quit
asking
me that!”

“I am making sure, is all.”

Her head hurt. “How are you? Do you feel…? Did you…?” She mimed eating.

“Eat? Yes. I had a…bite.”

She wondered what animal he had gnawed on. He turned and walked away from her. One thing was for sure, even if the mystery potion she’d been given gave her super strength, she’d never have shoulders quite as broad as his.

Nor would she have ever been beaten quite as bad as him. With the dirt washed off, the mess of silver lines crisscrossing his back was more obvious. He wouldn’t want her pity, so she stamped it down.

Erik picked something up from the crowded bookshelf and walked back. His hand was cupped when he extended it to her. “For the sake of our former friendship, I would be much happier if you could tell me what this is. That friendship is the only reason I haven’t already killed you.”