Into the Mist

Chapter Twenty-One

Tyana dozed fitfully as they drove through small villages and a few larger towns. When Eli stopped for petrol, she dug around in one of the bags they’d packed for food.

They drove on, eating in silence, tension settling over them like a cloud.

She knew she hadn’t been fair. But then it wasn’t her job to be fair. If Eli wanted to unload on her, fine, but it didn’t mean they had to have some mushy meeting of the minds and a therapy session starring her.

Still she could sense something in his attitude toward her. Disappointment? She slouched further down into her seat and turned so she couldn’t see him or his occasional glances in her direction.

“I’m not going to stop tonight,” he said, finally breaking the silence. “If I drive through, we can hit Buenos Aires by tomorrow afternoon.”

She turned to look at him, his profile as he concentrated on the road in front of them. He pushed his hair back behind his ear and occasionally fidgeted with his earring.

“And what then?”

His gaze skittered sideways for a second. “Then we wait for your friend to tell us where we can find Esteban. I’ll work on our flight details in the meantime.”

“Do you have a place we can stay?”

He grinned. “Of course. Buenos Aires is a big place. Easy to lose yourself in the crowds. Though it would help if you got rid of the bloody jacket sometime between now and then.”

She glanced down, realizing she hadn’t even bothered to change since they’d left the compound.

“I’ll change when we stop again,” she murmured.

The hours dragged on. Even the scenery, which at first had offered an interesting diversion to Tyana, blurred in one unending line. She hated the silence but knew better than to try and draw Eli into conversation.

When darkness fell, she succumbed to sleep more out of desperation than fatigue.

When Eli shook her awake, though, bright sunlight streamed through the windshield, nearly blinding her. She blinked as she sought to get her bearings. She felt heavy and lethargic, like she was coming out of a coma.

“Where are we?” she mumbled.

“Reaching the outskirts of Buenos Aires,” he replied.

She sat up straighter in her seat. “Shit. You should have woken me up.”

“Why? You needed the rest. When was the last time you got more than a few hours of uninterrupted sleep?”

She didn’t bother responding, because they both knew the answer to that one.

“Did the others make it yet?” she asked.

“Talked to them a while ago. They’re a couple of hours behind. They’ll meet us later.”

She scrubbed the sleep from her eyes and focused on the direction they were heading. Sleek skyscrapers dotted the horizon and traffic around them increased as they drove further into the city.

It reminded her of European cities. Crowded. Similar architecture. It could be one of any of the major metropolises. It could swallow you whole. A person could be as obscure or as noticeable as they wanted.

But she was out of her element, and she knew she had to rely on Eli. This was his turf. Not hers. That dependence made her uneasy.

She absorbed the hectic pace around her as they continued to navigate the busy streets. Beyond the more stylish, modern buildings, they entered an older, more rundown part of the city where the shadows grew and the new and shiny faded.

Eli pulled into a three-story parking garage and parked on the top level. She eyed him curiously as he opened his door.

“Get your stuff. From here we walk.”

She got out and hoisted her bag over her shoulder then walked around the back to get the bag containing their weapons. He took two duffel bags with clothes and electronics and headed toward the stairs.

They exited the garage into an alleyway, and he set off at a brisk pace. After four blocks of dodging trash bins and refuse thrown onto the streets from windows above, he stopped at a battered door and pulled out a key from his pocket.

She looked up to see there was no unit above this one and a glance to the side told her that this apartment adjoined a closed business. The windows of the business were busted out, and it looked as though no one had occupied the building in years.

Eli unlocked the door and ducked in, motioning for her to follow.

It was a simple one bedroom efficiency-style apartment with a small kitchen and a rag-tag couch straddling the space between the bedroom and the kitchen. A small television rested on a rickety stand by the window, but other than that, the apartment didn’t boast much else.

“Home sweet home,” he said as he dropped the bags onto the floor beside the couch. “At least until we hear from your friend.”

And hopefully that would be soon. This place made her uneasy. Reminded her too much of things better forgotten. Even the smell was familiar. Dirt, poverty, pain…

She gripped her arms with her hands, rubbing up and down, trying desperately to make the fear go away.

“Hey, are you okay?” Eli asked softly.

She yanked her gaze to him. “Yes, I’m fine. What do we do now?”

“We wait,” he said. “Are you hungry? There’s a place a block or two away. We could grab something and bring it back here. It would give me a good chance to scope out the area.”

She nodded. Even the unsavory reality of what lay out there on the streets was better than this place.

“Wait here. I’m going to shift and take a look around. I’ll be back for you in a few minutes. Then we can go together if you like.”

Again she nodded and tried to control the trembling of her hands.

He touched her briefly on the shoulder then moved away. She watched as he became a shadowy apparition and then disappeared altogether.

It was hard to curb her resentment. Why him and not Damiano? What roll of the dice came up with his lucky number? His ability was a gift, not the curse it was for D. Eli could use and exploit his ability to shift at will while Damiano struggled to prevent it from destroying him.

She dug through one of the bags and pulled out a clean pair of jeans and a shirt. She’d never gotten the chance to get out of her blood-spattered clothes. After a check of the bathroom, she turned on the small shower and waited for the water to heat. Realizing that lukewarm was the best it was going to get, she ducked in and quickly scrubbed the accumulated grime from her body.

A few minutes later, she stepped out and hurriedly dried off. Despite the heat and humidity, she shivered as she walked back into the living room to get her clothes.

She blocked out the smell, the sounds coming from outside, the awful memories of the dark holes in Prague as she quickly pulled off her clothes and stepped into her jeans. After she slipped the T-shirt on, she paced for a few moments then sat on the musty couch, hunched forward, her arms protectively around her midsection.

When Eli shimmered into view a half hour later, relief surged hot and forceful through her veins.

She rose from the couch and had to stop herself from going to him.

“Things are quiet, by Buenos Aires standards anyway,” he said. “I took a look at the garage. Wanted to make sure we weren’t followed.”

She nodded.

“You want to go grab something to eat? I’d rather make it back here before dark.”

“Yeah, okay.”

He looked curiously at her, as though he were trying to see inside her. Her unease was tangible, she knew. He touched her lightly on the arm as he headed toward the door.

In an automatic gesture, she felt for her knives. Then she reached for her jacket. Though tattered and sporting a torn sleeve, it offered protection and hid the other knife. And she’d cleaned most of the blood off.

She followed Eli outside. The sun was sinking low in the sky as they walked down the street. It wasn’t dark enough yet for the streetlights to pop on, so shadows began to yawn in the darkened corners.

She walked faster.

Two blocks up, they stopped at a street vendor where Eli ordered sausages and empanadas. As Tyana glanced down the streets at the intersection where they stood, she noticed that none of the restaurants seemed open.

She turned back to Eli as he collected the sack of food and paid for it.

“It doesn’t seem very busy,” she said as they began to walk back. “I would have thought it would be more crowded. More people out.”

“They eat late here,” he replied. “No one really goes out before nine which is why I wanted us to get our food and be back in our room before things got a lot busier. Much easier to tell if we’re being followed this time of day.”

She nodded but kept her eyes peeled as they crossed the street at the next intersection. As they walked past one of the alleyways, a childish cry of fright froze Tyana in her tracks.

She stared down the alley to see a young girl. Maybe twelve. Maybe thirteen. On the cusp of womanhood, yet so young. Too young. She was being shoved against the rough stone of the building wall by one man while another stood to the side leering.

Tyana’s blood turned to ice. She felt those hands on her own body, ripping at her clothing, heard Damiano’s hoarse protests as he fought to protect her.

Her hand was inside her coat even as she sprinted down the alleyway. She launched herself into the air, her foot connecting with the man holding the girl.

They went down in a tangle. The man bellowed in pain and rage as Tyana landed on top of him. She scrambled up, knife in hand and threw it at the other man before he could react to her attack.

It landed in his shoulder, embedded to the hilt. He staggered back, staring in disbelief as blood ran down his arm.

She turned to face the first attacker just as he lunged at her. He rammed into her like a freight train, and they both went down again. She hit the street with a bone-jarring thump. Pain speared through every muscle, and she gasped for breath.

She reared back to head butt him, but suddenly he was gone. Ripped from her body and thrown against the opposite wall. A snarl of rage echoed through the alley.

Tyana scrambled up in time to see Eli make quick work of the asshole. She turned to see about the girl, but she was gone. Tyana ran to the end of the alley and looked down the street only to see her disappear among the vendors.

“Are you all right?” Eli demanded beside her.

She nodded, still winded from her fall.

“What the fuck did you think you were doing, Tyana? Are you just trying to get yourself killed? Get us arrested? Jesus H. Christ, woman.”

She whirled around, tears of rage nearly blinding her. “If you think I was going to stand by while those two animals raped her, you’re crazy.”

She yanked her jacket around her and hurried away from the alley, back toward the apartment. Eli kept pace with her, his hand touching her elbow. She jerked away from his touch as they reached the door of the apartment.

By the time they made it inside, she was shaking violently and she felt ill. So sick. She wanted to vomit.

“My knife,” she said, and she didn’t recognize her own voice. She fixated on the knife. “I lost the knife. Mad Dog gave it to me. I never go anywhere without it.”

Eli touched her, tentative, testing. Concern was there in the light probing.

“You have other knives, Tyana,” he said in a low voice.

She wrapped her arms as tight around her as she could, folding inward. She walked to the couch, her composure shattered. Like a leaf blowing in the wind, she wilted onto the sofa, her knees shaking, her limbs jittery, like a junkie in need of a fix.

Eli was there, in front of her, kneeling, his hands on the couch on either side of her hips. He made no effort to touch her, but worry was set like stone in his eyes.

“Tell me what the fuck happened back there, Tyana.”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. God, she didn’t want to remember. As long as she blocked those memories, she could go on, she could function, she could pretend it never happened, that those years before Jonah and Mad Dog didn’t exist.

A gentle hand touched her cheek, cupped it in a warm, sweet grasp. “Tyana, listen to me. Nothing can hurt you here, sugar. It’s only you and me. No one else.”

To her horror, a tear rolled down her cheek, colliding with his hand. He brushed it away with his thumb, a tender gesture that proved to be her undoing. Another slipped down. And another. A low sob caught in her throat, and she swallowed fiercely, determined not to give in. Not to be weak.

She tried to turn away, but he wouldn’t let her. He folded her in his arms and held her tightly as he rocked her gently back and forth. She pushed and he pulled. She tried to move away, to hide from him, but he kept those arms locked around her.

Emotion, raw and tearing, swelled in her throat. She fought against it, tried to keep it in, because once let loose, she would break.

And then he kissed her. One tiny, gentle brush of his lips against her forehead. Quite simply, she shattered. There in his arms. There was no defense against his quiet understanding.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder.

He held her. Soft. Comforting. His hands stroked repeatedly over her hair as her tears soaked into his shirt.

When there were no more tears to shed, she simply lay against him, limp, drained. He slid his hand over her damp cheek and pulled her away so that he could look at her.

“What happened, Tyana?” he asked. “What is it that you’re so afraid to tell me…anyone?”

“That was me back there,” she whispered. “It was me all over again. And no matter how hard I train, no matter how hard I become, it always comes back to me being a defenseless young girl fighting for survival on the streets. I can’t forget her. I can’t make her go away. I don’t want to be her anymore.”

His eyes softened. He carefully got off his knees and moved to sit on the couch beside her. She faced forward, her knees spread, her arms between her legs and her head bowed.

“Tyana, she’ll always be there,” Eli said softly. “She’s an important part of who you are.”

She shook her head.

“Tell me about her.”

She turned her head to look at him, not sure she could get the words past her frozen lips. He reached out and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and let his hand linger there at her temple.

God. Where to start?