Page 41 of A Light in the Darkness
After he disappeared from the veterinarian’s office in Costa Rica, where I literally saved his fucking life, he stayed missing. Part of me hoped he was dead in an alley somewhere, but a greater partof me hoped he made it. It’s a selfish part of me, really, because that hope has nothing to do with him and everything to do with me. I want him alive because if he is, he can help me trap his father.
I considered, early on, just going straight for the head of the beast. I looked up pictures of what he looked like—his face is all over the internet as a benevolent donor, a wealthy investor, a ‘brilliant entrepreneur working to make the world a better place’, one large donation at a time. The more praise I saw for the man, the more my bloodlust for him grew. But I’m not trying to go on a suicide mission.
Even if I don’t know what I’m living for, I want to live.
And more importantly than that, I don’t want to fail at taking him down.
If I fail at killing Alexandre Davos, I will fail every one of his victims. I don’t know how many there are, I just know that Remy made it sound like there were a lot. Just like I couldn’t kill Giante just for myself, I can’t go after Davos just for my own revenge. But I can go after him for what he did to Remy, to Rhea in an off-handed way, to their mother, to Monica and who knows how many others. And I can go after him even for what he did to Wes.
Monsters aren’t born; they’re made. And it seems Davos finds as much pleasure in making monsters as he does in destroying innocence.
I’m taking a gamble here that Wes will actually help me. Aside from the fact he didn’t seem to have much love lost for his father, he does owe me. I’m just not sure he’ll see it that way.
I’m about to find out, though. I glance ahead to the driver’s GPS, which shows that the destination is just ahead on the right. I think she’s been trying to talk to me, making idle conversation the whole way from the mall she picked me up at. I suppose it may have seemed a bit strange, picking up a woman alone outside the sporting goods store in the afternoon with no bags. It’s probably even stranger that I haven’t really talked to her, and that I used the cashier’s phone to order this car, but she seems undeterred by mysilence. I’m not trying to be a bitch, I just don’t have the mental capacity to stay focused on what I’m about to doandmake small talk with her.
When she pulls up to the big brick house, I’m not surprised that it’s a miniature mansion. Of course, even on the run, Wes has to hide in style. I wonder if this house belongs to him or his father, or if he’s just renting it from a friend… or if he broke in, killed the homeowners, and has taken the place for himself.
It seems unassuming, honestly. Nothing about it looks like it’s owned by a criminal mastermind… there’s an American flag mounted by the white garage door, and flowers planted around a mailbox. When I thank the driver and walk to the front door, there’s even a floral welcome mat on the doorstep.
The doorbell camera blinks at me, and I get the ‘something is wrong’ feeling in the pit of my stomach. It’s so much easier to feel in control when I have people behind me who won’t let me fail.
But I’ve come this far.
Besides, I’m not fucking scared of Wes.
The blade I bought at the mall is tucked against my hip, a little extra peace of mind. I might have bought a gun if they sold them, though I don’t know how to actually use one. They seem better for making people compliant, but I’m comfortable with the knife.
And I am going to make him compliant, one way or another.
I’ve just rung the doorbell when one of the big black doors opens, and a man stands there in a navy suit, his eyes running quickly over me. He’s an unassuming man, neither attractive or unattractive, and he doesn’t let any emotion show on his face, whether he’s surprised to see a strange girl on the doorstep or not. He’s just… there.
“Hello,” he says, his eyes studying my face.
I hesitate, wondering if maybe I entered the address wrong. “I’m looking for Wes.” I say, realizing that I don’t know if he has the same last name as his father. Everybody calls Alexandre Davos byhis surname, to the point I nearly forgotDavoswasn’t his proper name.
“Yes, yes,” the man says, looking mildly annoyed now. So, hedoeshave emotions. “Come inside. He’s down in the basement.”
“The basement?” I nearly laugh, taking a small step backwards. “Who are you? His butler?”
The man looks at me with irritation written over every inch of his face—he’s middle-aged, probably closer to his fifties than not and with black hair that’s obviously been dyed to hold onto an illusion of youth. He looks like he wants to be somebody important, not like the kind of man who would be comfortable with a life of servitude. And he sets alarm bells off in every part of me, so I take another step back, my heel catching on the first of three stone steps that led to his porch.
I want to call the car back and abandon this plan, but I don’t have the app on the phone in my pocket, which is currently a useless brick since I neglected to turn it back on. So, I reach for the other pocket, letting my fingers smooth over the blade there. I can wrap them around it in an instant and draw it against him if I have to… and I might have to.
The man takes another step forward, raising his hands. “He’s been staying in the basement… he’s in hiding, after all.”
I glance out of the corner of my eyes, trying to gauge the distance to a neighbor’s house. They’re close enough that I can see them, but also far enough apart that all I can see of them is the shapes.
“Right…” I say. “Why don’t you send him up here so we can talk?”
The man laughs, coming closer still as I take the last step down to the driveway.
That’s when the doorbell chimes.
The voice that comes over the intercom is decidedly feminine, and also full of confusion. “Honey?” She asks, causing the man’s entire body to still. He tilts his head just an inch, refusing to take his eyes off me. He also doesn’t say anything, his jaw clamped shutso tightly that I can see the muscle twitch. “Hello? Honey, are you out there? The doorbell detected motion.”
The man lifts a finger to his lips, and his eyes are full of warning as he cautions me to stay silent. Based on the all-American home and the woman calling him honey, I’m assuming it’s his wife. And based on the fact that he immediately tried to lure me to his basement, I’m guessing Wes isn’t really here and someone set me up.
“Honey? Are you okay?”
