“I love you, Mel,” he says and starts coughing, “Don’t worry, our family burns the black.”
A thin trickle of blood now runs from the corner of his mouth. Then he closes his eyes, his breathing an unnatural gurgling sound.
Date = 21 January
Place = San Francisco (Uncle John’s house)(Opera House)
POV – Damion
“Let’s get ready, guys,” Uncle John shouts as soon as we walk through the hermetic sliding door of the underground bunker.
Uncle John shouts out orders at the people working down here with some sophisticated equipment any spying agency will kill to have … all part of Blackburn Inc. Jesse goes to a high-tech computer area to get acquainted with the other nerds who are going to help track us.
“Guys, grab some clothes,” Logan points to a large walk-in room filled with tactical clothing – in black, navy, gray, brown, camo, and dark green – complete with every possible extra you can think of. We quickly suit up.
“You all know that the company created this new tracking device. You spray it onto the skin and it leaves an invisible tracker that makes it possible to locate the person for at least two days. It’s some next-level outer-space shit this,” Logan explains, walking around the room spraying all of us with the invisible marker, while Ilkay swabs our mouths, getting each one’s DNA, necessary for the tracker to work.
A guy in a white coat inserts each DNA stick into a small lab device, (something that is apparently a PCR, centrifuge, and more all in one – but let’s stick to a gadget) and it, in turn, sends each DNA record it pulls up to the computer area where they link it with the tracker and combine it with a name.
This way, they know exactly which dot on the computer belongs to which guy and where he is.
Dad checks the radio contact devices. He’s going to handle that part with Noah and some of the company’s guys.
Five-twenty-five, the flashing light on the computer screen displays. I’m fucking sure time is standing still. Scary thoughts trigger my demons and they start to tip-toe slowly around in my head. I close my eyes to try and still the pitter-patter of their feet, but just thinking about what he might be doing to her …
Fuck!
The sound of my fist against the wall crowds out the noises in my head a little.
“We’ve scanned the fingerprint on the finger and it belongs to Xander Blackburn. Guess he’s family?” The question mark between Jesse’s brows spread across the room. The pinky actually belongs to Mel’s dad. Fuck me.
“Dad? Where in hell did Harry find him?” I’m sure Ilkay means that in the literal sense, seeing that hell has a special place for people like Xander and Harry … and all of us I guess. But Mel is an angel … she doesn’t deserve this.
“Don’t judge your father too harshly, guys … he’s not the man you think him to be. There’s a whole other side to the story … one I’ll tell you all soon enough,” Garcia softly mentions, but he doesn’t elaborate too much. “Now is not the time to go into details, but just keep it in mind.”
“Guys, I’m in position. And we were right … I have eyes on Mel.” Alejandro contacts us over the radio. “Lower floor.” I breathe in deeply. She’s still alive. “The second-floor windows are latched. No sight of the others yet.”
“Keep your position and let us know what you see. Sending backup to you now.” My father answers and looks at Garcia.
“Logan and Axel, go find Alejandro … but do it quietly. We don’t want to alert them in any way,” Garcia orders. I watch them go. “The rest of you will follow Damion at a distance … just in case they take him to a different location. If you do reach the ghost house, find the other boys and wait for my signal. If you go in early you will spook Harry and we might lose him.”
My phone lying on the bench beside me pings a few times, and I grab it quickly.
Mel: Opera House in Van Ness Ave – come alone. You have one hour.
Hopeful eyes are glued on me, waiting for any news – good news, bad news – anything. But before I can say a word a photo hits my screen, and this time I feel my gagging reflex working overtime to swallow down the puke that pushes up into my mouth.
Mel is standing against a pillar, her arms pulled back, probably tied up. He tore open her shirt leaving some lavender underwear exposed. In a flashback, I recognize it as the one I picked up in her room once; the same one she seductively paraded in one time for me … but this time there’s nothing sexy about it.
Her face is bruised and bloody, and the look in her eyes sends up some more of the burning liquid. I bend over and barf into a duffle bag on the ground.
“Fuck!” Someone swears.
“Say something!” Enrique yells at me, but the clatter of creeping footsteps from my demons turns into a full-on stampede. My heart is torn from my chest, my body immobile.
Ilkay takes the phone from my hand. Blood drains from his face and a single word drops from his lips, “Mel.” It’s so soft, I’m not even sure he said anything, but it’s enough to stop the sudden frenzied rush and push the demons back – for now at least.
“He’s fucking dead!” Okay, that part I heard loud and clear, expressing my own exact thoughts.
“I have to be at the War Memorial Opera House in an hour – alone.” Ilkay hands me back my phone.
“Okay, boys. The battle has begun. Damion, you won’t have any radio contact with us, but we can track your every move. The boys will be just out of sight behind you the whole time.” Garcia claps his hands and for the first time, I feel the tickling of hope trying to push through my broken thoughts.
“You boys don’t worry about us,” Uncle John exclaims, “You focus on getting our people back safely.” We all nod. We all have our tasks to perform. And we need to perform them well.
The whole drive in the misty rain up to the opera house I force myself to gain back my control, to be the master of my demons, and as soon as I feel that familiar calmness-on-the outside-darkness-on-the-inside feeling I know that I’m ready to face anything. The fucker sent me the photos to break me down, to screw with my mind, but he hasn’t met this devil face to face yet. A small smile creeps onto my lips.
I stop my bike but don’t get off, and scout the area. I notice a white van and drive towards it, remembering that a white van took my little brother. Knowing my guys are close by reassures me and sets me at ease.
Three huge, gang-type men are leaning against the van, watching my every move, and my guts turn a few times for what’s to come.
“And so it begins,” I whisper to myself and remove my helmet, hanging it onto the bars of the bike.
“You Damion?” the biggest troll asks as I swing my leg over my bike to stand up. I lift my chin and look him in his eyes.
“Who wants to know?” I sum them up and I can see that they are tough, it will take all of my power to beat them, so if I can I need to avoid physical confrontation. They laugh and gesture for me to lean against the vehicle.
“Spread it, we need to check that you’re clean.” I do as they say knowing they’re not going to find anything. One guy body searches me, patting me everywhere, and then takes my phone from my pocket.
“You won’t need this anymore.” He drops it and stamps it with his foot, breaking it into pieces before he pushes me into the van. We stay put for a while … just sitting there as if waiting for something. Then a voice hollers over a radio.
“Team A … come in.” The driver picks up the radio and pushes a button.
“Team A here. Is he alone?” Okay, so we were waiting for another team to check that I was not followed … that I came alone. Clever. But not clever enough. I smile secretly.
“We don’t see anybody following him … you’re good to go.”
“Thanks. Over and out.” The van starts moving.