Into Darkness (Whitsborough Chronicles Book 2) Page 5

  “I see,” I say and drag the blade of the bloody knife across my lip. “She chose death to protect me from you.”

  I reach out quickly and snatch his hand. He tries to fight me but he’s so weak at this point. I slam his hand down on the desk and quickly stab the knife down into the desk between his thumb and forefinger, the sharp edge dangerously close to his skin. He whimpers with relief when he sees I haven’t stabbed his hand.

  A giggle escapes as I pull the knife forward and slice through his thumb from below the knuckle. God, I love a sharp knife. His screams sends a shiver through me and I smile wide as I watch the blood squirt from the tip. I pull his hand up and hold it between both of our faces and watch as the blood coats us both.

  “Let the real fun begin.” I say with a toothy grin.

  8

  I wake up to Vin’s side of the bed empty. I have sweat pouring down my body and my hair is stuck to my face. I place my hand to my chest and will my heartbeat to slow. My nightmares won’t release me, not until I’ve replayed the whole thing from start to finish. Like my brain is forcing me to remember every detail.

  I hear the bathroom door open in our room and watch Vin strut out with a towel. I watch his body as he moves towards me and a sense of calm washes over me. I’m not alone. “I went to get you a towel.” He says as he wipes my face.

  “Thank you.” My voice is hoarse and I’m still slightly out of breath.

  “Same nightmare?”

  “Different, but the same.” I shrug as I wipe the towel over my neck.

  I know he wants me to tell him about my nightmares, the levels of depravity I succumb to each night, but I just can’t. I don’t want to see a change in the way he looks at me, because there is absolutely no way there wouldn’t be.

  He lays down on his side of the bed and opens his arm for me to lay on his chest. The warmth of his skin seeps into my cheek and I instantly relax. The smell of his skin is ingrained in my brain as mine.

  “When we moved to Toronto I was seven and we had no money. My mother refused to cash the cheque my father gave her and our house was still up for sale.” He takes a deep breath, “so we lived in government supported housing. It was bad, kids ran around with no shoes or clothing and there would be really young kids-toddlers-crying without a parent in sight. Then there was the blatant drug use and gang violence.

  “I was exposed to a lot at a young age and my own mother was also absent. She was putting herself through business school and working as a waitress. So, it was only natural the gang members on our block started to keep an eye out for me. They slowly gained my trust and raised me when my mother couldn’t. By ten years old, I was running drugs and getting in trouble at school for fighting.”

  I feel his heart rate increase under my cheek and I rub a path from his chest to his stomach. I know what he’s doing, he’s showing me he can trust me by telling me things he isn’t proud of in hopes that I will do the same. I get it, trust goes both ways and what he’s doing is working.

  “After seeing me with a few black eyes, a few of the gang members decided to teach me how to fight, and also how to kill if it came to that.”

  My breath gets lodged in my throat because his life was oh so similar to mine with an absentee single parent and gang interference. I look up into his face and see his moss green eyes watching me. He has grown out his facial hair and has a permanent five o’clock shadow now, it makes him look older.

  “I found out I have an older half brother named Carmelo while I was in New York. He was one of the ones who… ah… collected me.”

  I can feel him mulling that over and I know he probably has about a million questions, but the thing I love the most about Vin is that he doesn’t pry. He lets me be me and knows the more he pushes the more I will back off.

  “I’m guessing you know who your father is then, unless he’s your mother’s child?”

  “I do know who my father is.”

  He doesn’t push for more and rubs soothing circles into my back until I fall back asleep.

  “Ember!” Travis yells to me across the beach, “a courier is here with a package for you!”

  “Ugh… his voice is hurting my head. I should sit on his face to shut him up.” Adri moans.

  “Stop getting so drunk and the hangovers will stop too.” I snicker as I get up. Vin has gone into town to grab some more food because all we have stockpiled here is alcohol.

  I rush to the front door and see a delivery man with a large orange envelope. “Emberlise Torres?” He asks.

  Fucking Carm.

  “Yes, that’s me.”

  He holds out a handheld device and I sign my name. I feel the bubble wrapped interior and I can tell by the shape of the object, he sent me the knife.

  “Emberlise Torres?” Travis asks from behind me.

  I turn around and look at him, he has his shirt off today and I notice he got some new tattoos on his arms. There are scripts running up both forearms and they look like literature quotes. His sandy hair has grown out a bit and is haphazardly hanging over his brow, his greens eyes look at me questioningly.

  “Curiosity killed the cat, Trav.” I say with a tut.

  “All secrets come out at some point, Ember.”

  “I’m banking on it.” I retort as I head up to my bedroom.

  I rush inside and close the door behind me. I’m so anxious to see this fucking knife and sheath. Did they clean it? Would it still have his blood caked on there? The excitement is overwhelming and I don’t bother to stop and analyze what that means about my current mental state. I rip open the envelope and the knife and ornate sheath spill out onto the bed. The colourful painted skulls seemingly looking back at me tauntingly, like we share old secrets. I guess we do. I run my finger along the sheath and over the skulls, the white paint on a gilded gold background and the matching handle twinkling in the light. I pull the knife out and see that it has indeed been cleaned, meticulously so, and the edge looks like maybe it was sharpened for me as well.

  I run the sharpened edge along my fingertip and hiss when it cuts into my skin. I smile as I watch a bubble of blood emerge and run down my finger. This knife was always meant to be mine. I sheathe the knife and look inside the envelope, just as I expected, there is a letter waiting for me.

  Ember Torres,

  Don’t get mad, that’s your name. I found this knife tucked back into my father’s drawer a few weeks ago, completely covered in blood. I knew right away from the state of his body that this is what you used. The sight of his tortured body had a few of my guys puking, so… well done.

  Did he tell you the story of this knife? Did he tell you anything at all? I guess I will get some answers from you soon. For now, I will tell you about this knife. It’s been in our family for generations, it comes from Mexico and belonged to our Great-Grandparents. They used to do blood rituals every Día De Los Muertos and this was the knife they used. Creepy right?

  Anyways, Happy Birthday, I am here celebrating with your brother, who you will have to face soon enough.

  I will be seeing you next week.

  Love your Hermano,

  Carm

  I snort as I rip up the letter and flush it down the toilet in the bathroom. I love how he thinks I will have to do anything, if I decide I don’t want to see my twin, I won’t. I do have so many questions about that though, like how when I was torturing the shit out of my father, he didn’t utter a single thing about a twin. It all seems so suspect, but then I think about his face and I know he is who Carm is saying he is. Looking at him was like looking in the mirror. Again, I am struck with betrayal by my mother, she never said a damn thing about him and there was never any evidence of his existence whatsoever.

  A soft knock sounds on the door and I scramble to put the knife in my bag, no need to scare the shit out of anyone.

  “Em?” Vin calls out.

  “I’m here,” I answer as I stand up.

  “Everything good?�
� He comes in.

  I know Travis told him about the delivery, the questions are written all over his face, but I also know Vin wouldn’t interrogate me and he lets me tell him as much or as little as I want. “Carm sent me a letter. I made plans to see him next weekend.” Not a complete lie, I will be in New York next weekend.

  “Okay, I will get us the tickets.”

  “Are you sure you want to get involved with this, Vin? It’s not going to be pretty.” I ask him.

  “Ember, nothing about my life was ever pretty, I’m sure I can handle it, and I won’t let you do it alone.”

  Yep, I’m done, he’s my forever person. I cross the room and jump up into his arms, locking my legs around his waist. He chuckles as his hands clench my ass and pulls me in tighter. “I keep getting missed calls from my father, I think he wants to speak to me about this fucking business.” He grunts.

  I already have a planned formed for that asshole and I will make sure he never bothers Vin with his illegal shit again. “We can go together this time. Make it for Thursday before we leave for New York.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Are Adri and Travis killing each other yet?” I snicker.

  “One can only hope.”

  I giggle into his neck as he brings us back downstairs.

  The next night I am back home and relaxing in my room, I have a plan put together for tonight but I just need to wait a bit to make sure my parents are asleep. I twirl the Muertos knife in my hands and revel in its beauty. I’m excited to use it again tonight, to stain the golden handle red once more. Since my kidnapping, I have come to accept the darkness inside me and I know exactly what I need to feed it. My stomach trembles with excitement and I can’t control the smile that stretches wide across my face. I play back the conversation I had with Carm earlier in the day and commit to memory everything he meticulously taught me. My plan is concrete-foul proof.

  The time hits midnight, so I get out of bed and dress in a pair of black leggings paired with a black hoodie sweater. I pull my hair back tight into a bun and I sit at my fancy vanity to apply my makeup. Tonight, I’m not doing any traditional makeup. I hold the knife out in front of me, tonight I will be a Muertos.

  I turn my face to the left and right and feel proud as the white face paint and the black skull makeup completely obscures my features.

  This will do just fine.

  9

  The house is eerily quiet and the only light visible is from the moon splaying across the foyer’s marble floors. This house is decadent, there’s no other word to describe it. The arrogant display of wealth bleeds through every fiber. The marble floors with slashes of gold glittering throughout, the walls a textured plaster making it look like a supple velvet and the chandelier hanging spreads crystal beads at least twenty feet in width.

  Decadent.

  The house was surprisingly easy to get into, and with my face disguised and dark clothing, any images they might get they won’t know who it is. I thumb the knife in my hoodie pocket, the cool feel of the sheath sends a jolt of excitement through me. The inspiration for my elaborate face makeup.

  I memorized every detail of what Vin told me. To the right is the staircase to go to the second level and to the left is the kitchen, dining and however many other rooms. Straight ahead is an office and a den. The den has been made into a makeshift bedroom for dear Robert as he is too sick to climb stairs. That’s where I’m headed.

  My feet are light as I walk across the shimmering floors towards the large double doors in front of me. The anticipation courses through my blood and I can’t stop the grin that spreads across my face. This is what I’ve been needing, to release some of the numbness. I push the door open and step inside the room. It’s dark so I stand still until my eyes adjust. The sound of a fan whirling wind and a humidifier pumping steam dulls the sound of my footsteps.

  There is a king-sized bed situated in the center of the room and laying in the middle is the man I’m looking for. I move to the right of his bed and look down at his thin sunken face, the skin having a grey pallor. He looks pretty fucking sick. At this point most people would stop and say fuck it, the man is dying anyways. Not me. Even though the body is failing I know his mind is still the evil piece of shit it’s always been.

  “Wake up, Robert.” I say. He stirs and turns on his side facing me. I roll my eyes and bend forward, placing my mouth near his ear. “Wake up, douchebag!” I say a little louder.

  He gasps and falls to his back his eyes wide open. When they finally land on me I can’t help the grin that comes over my face. His fear is so palpable I can almost taste it.

  “Who are you?” He says his voice weak and breaking.

  “Later. Right now, you and I are going to have a little chat, and if all goes well…” I pull the knife from my pocket, “I won’t have to hurt you.” His eyes widen as he takes in my face and the knife I’m running along my lips. I know I’m a sight right now with the skull painted onto my skin. “Please keep in mind, Robert,” I grin at him. “I really want to fucking hurt you.”

  He nods slightly and pushes himself into a sitting position against the headboard. I pull up the chair from his desk and sit down in front of him. “Any idea who I am?” I ask.

  “No,” he shakes his head. “Who sent you?”

  “No one orders me around. I came of my own volition.”

  “What is it you want?” He swallows thickly.

  “I came to find out more about this business you have in New York.”

  “Did Ms. Talia send you?” He whispers out. Hmm, there’s that name again.

  “I told you, no one sent me.”

  “New York is my main source for product distribution.”

  “Ooh, fancy words for drug running.” His eyes widen and he looks frantically around the room. “So, you thought ‘why not give the mutt the dirty job and I’ll save my legit businesses for the son I acknowledge.’” I press the knife to my cheek, “please, correct me if I’m wrong.”

  “Travis is weak, he could never do the things that need to be done.”

  “Like?”

  “Disposing of trash, intimidating the competition and making sure no one is skimming.” He says quietly.

  “Skimming… like what your older brother did, right? Wasn’t he ‘disposed of’ for that?” I use air quotes and watch him keeping his eye on my knife.

  “Yes.” His bottom lip trembles.

  “And who was he skimming from? Who’s the big boss?” I ask leaning forward with my arms on my knees.

  “Raphael Torres.” He mutters.

  “Ahh… yes, Raphael Torres. Scary guy huh? Wouldn’t want to cross him. Am I right?”

  “He can be intimidating.”

  “I’m going to tell you a secret, just between us buds,” I say waving the knife between the both of us. “I killed Raphael Torres.”

  His eyes widen and his breathing increases. I can almost hear the pounding of his heart. “Impossible.” He whispers.

  “Apparently not,” I grin. “His blood bleeds red like yours and mine. I was covered in it.”

  “Who are you?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough. First, I want to discuss more about this business of yours.”

  “What about it?”

  “When do you need the replacement by?” I start bouncing the knife off my knee.

  “The next meeting of Heads, three weeks from tomorrow.”

  “This is what’s going to happen, you’re going to sign that business over to me and I will go to that meeting.” I nod pressing the knife to my mouth, “I’m assuming you have the paperwork already drawn up for Vincent?” He nods keeping his eye on the knife. “Great, where are they?”

  He points to his desk, “second drawer on the right.”

  I head over to the desk and open the drawer, inside he has a few file folders. I bring them back to the chair and open the first one on top, it has a picture of this Jennifer Talia-the
same one I saw in my father’s office-and what looks to be pages of information.

  “I’m going to keep this.” I say holding up the folder.

  “She will hunt you down if you did indeed kill Raphael.”

  “They were married, yeah?”

  “No never married, but they have been together since before he went to prison.” Interesting.

  “I see.” I nod, opening the next file. This one has the paperwork I’m looking for and this piece of shit really has Vin’s name all over it.

  “So, this is what’s going to happen Mr. Greene, I’m going to cross out every one of Vincent’s names and write in my own, and then you’re going to initial my changes. After that you’re going to call your lawyer about the changes, agreed?”

  “Yes.” He nods eyeing the knife in my hand.

  “Excellent, I love when things just fit into place.”

  I start in on the paperwork and writing in my own name, replacing Vin’s. When I’m done I hand it over to douche supreme and tell him to get to initialing.

  “Emberlise Craven…” He whispers.

  I gasp mockingly, “oh no! My secret’s out!”

  “You’re Rebecca’s daughter.”

  “Ding, ding, you’re smart.” I chuckle, “you knew my mother right?” He nods as he continues to initial. “Did you also know that Raphael killed her? Because you must’ve known she fled from here to New York with him, right?”

  “I knew she left home to be with him. But he maintained that she fled from him too once she found out his… ah… profession.”

  “He was a magnificent liar, that’s for sure. Since we’ve bonded here and I consider us buds, I’ll let you in on a few more secrets. My father was Raphael Torres. A few months ago, he kidnapped me and in retaliation I killed him… after torturing him with this knife then a shot to the head.”

  His skin grows impossibly paler and I’m watching him in earnest to see if he passes out. “He never spoke about you.” He groans.