Page 8 of In the Dark

First, he shook his head politely, and then his face broke into that sunny and understanding smile. As if they’d been on the same page the entire time. “Nope. Just you.”

The wrinkles around his eyes gave him a distinguished look, something lacking in men of her generation. Okay, she should have gone the torture route. Then he wouldn’t tempt her.

“Let me see if I understand you correctly. You’re refusing to give me the information I need to save my life because you want to see if you can get me between the sheets? Nice. Real nice.”

“I wouldn’t put it that way…”

Karsia lifted a hand and sparks flew around the air above her fingertips. An unnatural wind picked up to ruffle the papers on his desk.

“I can make you talk, you know. It would be so much fun to see the blood rise to your face while I strangle you from the inside.” She bared her teeth in a gruesome parody of a grin. “Don’t underestimate me.”

Morgan quirked an eyebrow at her and casually snapped his fingers. At once the wind swirled back to her and Karsia’s breath caught in her throat. Strands of hair whipped at her face, leaving red marks in their wake.

Her power clicked off.

“I thought you’d have learned by now. You got a good read on me before. Know I’m not easily swayed by those displays.” He reached out and touched her, his hand resting on her arm in a warm, reassuring connection. Just there. For her. She couldn’t pull away, only absorb the heat from his skin. “Do I hear a yes to our date? I would enjoy the opportunity to get to know you a little better. In fact, I think there are a great many things we can find to speak about.”

Karsia exhaled loudly. “Who the fuck are you, mister?” she asked again, though she didn’t expect an answer.

“I’m a man, Miss Cavaldi.”

She hated giving in, more than ever before. Something about the darkness twisted what was already inside of her, an inherent stubbornness, and amplified the characteristic. How she would love to make good on her threat and follow through with the evil suggestions whispering in her subconscious. She wanted to tell him to fuck off on principle. Just to see his face drop and the remains of his grin disintegrate into dust.

But this man had power. And information. And she needed him if she ever wanted to be free.

“Sure. I guess.” She offered the answer like she didn’t care about the outcome either way and chewed on her lower lip. “One date couldn’t hurt.” She hoped.

Morgan made little indication of his happiness, nodding to her. “Good. I’m glad we could come to an understanding. I think you’ll find the opportunity a lot more pleasurable than you imagine. How about I meet you tomorrow at a small bistro downtown. I assume you don’t know the area?”

“You assume correctly.” Like a petulant child, Karsia glowered at the wall with a pout marring her features while she waited for Morgan to scribble an address on a small piece of scrap paper.

He dotted the I with a flourish and held it out to her. “Here. It’s a little hole-in-the-wall Italian place where I know we won’t be disturbed. I’ll tell you about my research then. Does seven o’clock work for you?”

“It doesn’t matter what time. All I need is the information,” she repeated, staring down at the paper with the scrawled handwriting, her thumb lingering.

“Well then, at least we can both have a nice meal while we talk.”

“Whatever.” Karsia folded the slip. “I’ll be there.”

“I can’t wait,” Morgan replied. The odd thing was, he sounded sincere.

She shoved the scrap deep into her pocket and sent him a final sour look. She’d give him this one opportunity to hand over the information freely. If nothing turned up—or if Morgan tried to turn it around and flirt her to death—then she would make good on her threat. Simple. She didn’t have the time for second chances.

Abruptly she got to her feet and strode from the room without a second look. She missed Morgan’s smirk completely.

**

The car had made it to Wisconsin in one piece, which was a surprise. She hadn’t expected it to push through to the bitter end or survive the entire fourteen-hundred-mile-long journey, but it did. And with only the slightest shuddering and smoke rising from the engine. There were a few touch and go moments around those identical middle states, but both she and the car managed to come through unscathed.

Go figure. The damn thing cost her as much as a designer purse and proved to be much more worthwhile in the end.

She pushed the rust bucket a bit further and pulled into the parking lot of a cheap motel about ten miles off the college campus. The closer she was to her target, the better able to keep a close watch. She was prepared to focus her attention on Morgan and what he could do for her.

When she exited the driver’s side and drew in a breath of cold air, she knew home was close. Too close for comfort.

The familiar scent, slightly musty, was both a balm and a bane. There was no other way to describe it. She remembered the happiness of the past, but it felt like it had happened to someone else. Her childhood was spent near the water, wading through the reeds and wild columbines, watching in delight and awe as her mother urged the trillium to grow and wind their way around unsuspecting swimmers near their summer cabin.

There were days of baking on the sand and nights of slipping away into the water’s embrace, nothing but moon and sky and her. Alone.

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