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The room disappeared in a plume of smoke, skulls forming from the ashes. Dark shamrocks floated in front of my vision. Coughing, I swiped at the particles in the air until they dissipated.
“Don’t ever let anyone tell you who to kill, son,” Uncle Henry’s voice whispered in my ear. “And don’t ever tell anyone else to kill for you. If you think someone’s life is worth taking, you take it yourself.”
Now I stood in a large warehouse, night visible beyond the skylights. The rubber of the octagon beneath my bare feet was familiar. On instinct, I raised my fists to guard my face, my toes dancing on the mat.
“Give it up for the Emerald Devil!” the announcer yelled.
When I glanced at the crowd, fear struck my core. They were all dead—skeletons with flesh hanging off their faces, their clothes tattered. I nearly fell to my knees. All twenty-nine of them were men I had killed. The oldest and most ragged was in front, stoic and silent, watching me. His was the first life I had taken. Eighteen years ago. It was something I’d never told my brothers. It was a secret between my father and me. That bullet might as well have gone through my heart. That was when I’d forgotten I had one.
“And, without further ado,” the announcer continued. “The Emerald Angel!”
The dead parted, revealing Emma. A skeletal hand assisted her into the octagon. She smiled, thanking the monstrosity. As she neared, my knees buckled, my heart bursting from my chest.
“Jack,” she breathed in that soothing voice she reserved just for me.
She wore a short white dress, and her skin was sprinkled with green glitter. Her curly hair tumbled to her hips. On her back, sprouting where her shoulder blades should be, was a massive pair of white wings. They spanned the width of the octagon as she knelt, her face inches from mine. The horde of bones vanished. It was just my dove and me.
“Emma?” I asked, a knot welling in my throat.
My own personal angel. She came back to me. Her delicate face floated above mine as if she’d fallen from heaven itself. She cocooned me in her wings, her feathers tickling my spine.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” she whimpered.
Tears welled in her deep, brown eyes, but she wasn’t looking at me. I tried to raise an arm to stop her, but my muscles weren’t functioning properly. Before I could object, she slid the needle into my deltoid. I winced at the sting, only to see my pain reflected in Emma’s eyes. The last thing I remembered was the press of her lips to my forehead.
When I awoke, the fluorescent lights were blinding. I groaned, pressing the heels of my hands into my eye sockets. The dreams had been so real, like an alternate reality. My hell.
My arm was sore, but it was nothing compared to the pounding in my head. I crawled across the floor, wondering where the hell I was. Last I had checked, I was in Boston. But this place didn’t look anything like Frank’s dingy trailer. It was too clean and clinical. I rested my hand on a plastic jug and I pulled it to me. I sipped at the water, taking in my surroundings.
Fuck.
I was in the panic room, which meant Emma had told someone the code. Probably Mick. I wouldn’t have put it past him to stick me in here and wait for me to sober up.
After a few minutes, my legs felt steady enough to hold my weight. I stumbled to the safe’s door, then punched in the code. A red light flashed, followed by a deep beeping sound. Dammit. I must’ve forgotten a number. Sighing in frustration, I entered it again.
Beeping and a red flash.
I slammed my fist into the door, although it wouldn’t make a difference. If Mick was on the other side, he wouldn’t hear a thing. The room was soundproof. Nothing could get in or out. Apparently, ‘nothing’ now included me.
Something white flitted before my eyes and fell to the floor. I bent down, losing my balance when I saw the neat scrawl on the piece of paper. It even smelled like her. Apples and lavender.
Jack,
If you haven’t already figured it out, you’re home. Mick and I picked you up from Boston earlier this morning and, quite frankly, I think you’ve earned a timeout. I changed the code to get out of the room, but I’m sure you realized that. Don’t worry. I’ve left you food, water and a shiny gold watch from your collection so you can keep time. I’ll be back tomorrow night around nine to let you out if you haven’t done so yourself.
A little hint? The code is in the room with you.
Emma
The Rolex was next to a sawed-off shotgun on a nearby shelf. I picked it up, cursing as I read the time—ten p.m. Emma wouldn’t be back for another twenty-three hours.
“Fuck!” I roared, the hoarse sound echoing off the walls and shattering my bruised skull. I reread Emma’s note, turning it over to search for clues. There was nothing written on the back, but she’d said the code was in the room.
Where could she have left it?
I glanced around. Shelves, locked cabinet, food and drink on the floor. Jesus…
I had to get out of this room. I wasn’t going to be locked in here, useless in my own pity, for the next day. I would tear the place apart inch by inch. I would be free before Emma arrived, whether she liked it or not.
