Ignite the Shadows. Ingrid Seymour
“Marci wants to know how you hacked into her computer.”
I blink, surprised. Bank Teller was the one who hacked me?!
Aydan shrugs. “You mean she’s Warrior? I’ll send you the code,” he says. “It’ll speak for itself.”
I wait to hear more, but it seems he’s a man of few words.
James fills in the blanks. “Aydan is a programmer. He works for Sylica Rush.” James says the name as if it explains everything. And well … it does. Getting into Sylica Rush is almost as exclusive as becoming an astronaut for NASA. I’m mildly impressed. Okay, I’m very impressed. Now I don’t feel so bad about being hacked.
“He was impressed by how tight your system was. And if he’s impressed, then we should all be,” James says, giving Blare a pointed look.
Aydan and I exchange a glance. We see eye to eye, even if we’re not saying much. He and I share a unique wavelength. Computer bits and bytes could be our language. His code will tell me much more about him than his words could. He nods. I nod back.
“So undoubtedly,” James continues, “he agrees our team could use someone with your skills. You see, he has to work for a living and doesn’t have as much time to take care of the technical side of our operation. He could use a hand.”
Wait a minute, what is this? I look at James and shake my head, trying to show him this is not why I came here for. I followed him thinking he’d have answers to my questions, but it seems he’s just trying to drag me into whatever activities they’re up to—which no doubt are criminal as all get-out.
“A hand doing what?” I demand.
“All in due time, Marci.”
My expression tightens. “Listen, I’m flattered that you’re impressed, but I don’t get the feeling I’m going to like what you guys are up to.”
Medusa chuckles, “derisive” written all over her black painted lips. “That’s an understatement.”
I stand, making the chair screech across the floor.
“Settle down, Marci. This is not the sort of thing you’re imagining.” James points at the chair with an extended hand.
“Just tell me.” I will count till ten. If I don’t get a straight answer, I’m out of here. I’m not going to get involved in anything that will land me in jail.
One.
“Good luck with that,” Xave huffs, sarcasm wrapped around all four words. They haven’t told him anything either. Cult tactics vary, and I wonder if the lure of something enigmatic and dangerous is what they use to entrap thrill-seeking idiots like Xave and me.
Four.
Blare exhales with frustration. “This isn’t child’s play. And the sooner you two get that into your heads, the better. Besides, it’s not the sort of thing that can be told. You have to see it to be able to believe messed-up shit like this.”
“Oh c’mon, Blare,” Oso says. “You’re gonna spook them.”
Seven.
“Good! ’Cause this is spooky crap.” Blare’s eyes swivel my way. A pierced eyebrow goes up and her lips tighten for a second before she says, “Crap that’ll make you run crying to Mama. Make sure you understand that before you go joining.”
Ten.
I’m outta here. The only scary thing here is Medusa’s hair-do.
“Ooh, I’m shaking in my boots.” I snigger. “I don’t know about you, Xave, but I need more than just empty talk and secret meetings,” I draw quotes in the air, “to buy into bogus crap.”
That said, I head for the door and invite Xave to follow me with a quick nod toward the door. I’m still mad at him, but I can’t leave him at the mercy of this bunch. I can’t believe Clark has dragged his little brother into this.
Oso lets out a hearty chuckle. “The girl has spunk. I’ll give her that.”
Xave’s attention shifts from side to side, apparently considering the option of leaving with me. If he’s still the smart boy I know, and testosterone and jealousy haven’t skewered his brain, he’ll come with me. I doubt Clark even knows what’s really going on here. “Marci.” James stands and takes a deep, deliberate breath, a clear reminder of our earlier conversation in the alley. “Promise me you’ll think about it.”
He knows he has answers I’d kill to have and he’s using them as bargaining chips. The question is: are the shadows somehow linked to what they’re doing here? Or are they just bait to suck me into their cult? I’m afraid accepting a deal with James might be too high a price to pay for learning what I need to know. Anger seethes behind my breastbone. This isn’t fair. I was so stupid to think I could get something for nothing.
I hesitate and look at Xave. His brow furrows, as his eyes dance from James to me and back again. Everyone watches with interest, even aloof Aydan, who I’m sure understands why James’s offer is so tempting to me.
Decisively, I exit the room without an answer or backward glance. I didn’t say no. That should let James know I’ll at least consider it. No harm in that, I suppose.
Outside, I crank the bike and slide on my helmet.
“Marci, wait!”
Xave runs up to me. I lift the visor to look at him, but he avoids eye contact and looks toward the road instead.
“Um.” He bites his lower lip, blinks in slow motion as if his long lashes weigh a ton. Finally, he meets my gaze. His Adam’s apple goes up and down. “I …” His pause stretches for a full minute.
I sigh and roll my eyes at his fantastic eloquence. “Want a ride home?”
“Y-yeah, that’d be great.”
“Hop on.”
Xave gets behind me, wraps large hands around my hips then leans forward until I can feel the length of his torso against my back. My throat locks, keeping my breath captive. My eyes close and I find myself leaning back, pressing closer to him. My body’s reaction shocks me.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers in my ear, then he pulls away slowly. Cold air slides up my back, making the distance between us feel as wrong as a sixteen-year-old in a bikers’ bar. His warm breath quickly turns frigid at my earlobe. I shiver and snap the visor shut. My fingers feel numb. It’s too cold to be out tonight.
Meeting James and the rest of his crew was nothing but a poor distraction. As soon as we drove away from the bar, the brunt of my pent-up emotions hit me like a hook punch. I got us home, fighting the urge to drive in the opposite direction and never look back.
Now, we sit on Xave’s front steps. I don’t want to go home and face whatever is waiting there. A suddenly joyful mother? A brand-spanking-new brother? A second fiddle? I hate feeling this way, but I can’t help it. I was there for her all along, why wasn’t I ever as important as the absent son she never really knew?
Crickets chirp and the moon hangs huge and watchful, unobstructed by clouds, even when light drizzle falls from a gray sky. I stare at a water stream making its way toward a drain at the far end of the street.
“What do you think about those fools?” Xave asks.
“Mmm?” My eyes are transfixed by the glittering moonlight as it skims the surface of the little stream.
“What’s wrong? You want me to apologize again?” he says a bit grudgingly. “I know I was an ass, and I—”
I tear my eyes from the drainage and the