Born, Darkly (Darkly, Madly 1)

My body curls around the scaffold. Clinging to the solidness. Only moments before, I was free. Free in a way I never dared to imagine, with vibrant colors and textures. And in a blink, I’ve been thrust back into the dull and guilt-leaden world.

The pain tears a seam inside me, and an ache clogs my throat. I choke on the bile of bitterness. But I sniff hard, shoving the ache down. I have to.

I was a performer once. I can be again. At least now, I know the difference.

As the agent walks the perimeter of the tank, I erect my shield. He mutters a swear when he completes his round. “Holy mother of God.”

“Please, get these off me,” I manage to say.

Agent Nelson directs his attention on me. “Of course.” He slips on a pair of Latex gloves. While he’s working the cuff mechanism, more agents and police officials enter the clearing.

In a matter of seconds, uniforms and Tyvek-suited medical examiners have the clearing yellow-taped and marked off as a crime scene. Plastic sheets cover what was—just hours ago—my and Grayson’s sacred haven.

“I’m sorry to have to ask this, London.” The agent searches my gaze. He’s not sorry at all. “But I’m going to need you to undergo medical screening.”

Heat blazes my chest. “You mean a rape kit.”

“Yes.” With a resounding click, the cuffs release my wrists. He shakes out an evidence bag and slips them inside. The only hint to his remorse is the slight crease at the corners of his eyes. We’re both professionals. This is standard. “I’ll also need your statement shortly afterward.”

I rub my wrists, the beveled ridges of scrapes a painful reminder of what I’ve lost. Agent Nelson tries to help me stand, but I fend him off with an outstretched hand. “I’m all right,” I assure. And I am. The pain that normally plagues me hasn’t returned, vanishing the moment acceptance took root.

Later, I’ll analyze this phenomena. But I can’t think of it now.

“I’m ready,” I announce.

The agent guides me out of the maze and toward an ambulance parked a distance away from the blaze. Chaos swamps the once peaceful woods as firefighters fight back the inferno before it spreads.

I face the fire, let the heat touch my skin. I feel it deep in my marrow, that electric pulse of chaos and disaster. Grayson’s artwork framed within a pale canvas of sky. I watch the flames dance and tease higher, until the agent forces me away.

“Any evidence must be in there,” one of the agents says as he passes, his gaze cast on the smoldering house. “We’ve recovered nothing so far.”

Agent Nelson nods him on. “Keep searching.”

I close my eyes. Just for a second to gather my bearings. I can’t do this. Not without him. Grayson said I was the key—but he was the one to unlock me. Now we’re both damned.

A medical personnel wraps a warm blanket around me, directing me farther away from the scene. Agent Nelson follows. “Dr. Noble, is he in there?” he asks.

My gaze flicks to the blackened, charred bones of the house. The fire still burns, brilliant orange and red and raging, licking the limbs of pines and sending embers into the dusky sky.

Grayson burned it all for me.

He set me free in more ways than one.

And in doing so, he destroyed my path to him. The answers to the man now ash.

Some things are meant to remain shrouded in mystery, I suppose. Where you’re not fed the answer. You have to search for it.

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; I wrench an answer for the agent from the dregs of my soul. “Yes,” I say. “He’s in there.”

A gentle shake of the agent’s head reveals his disbelief.

“How did you find me?” I ask.

He tears his attention from the fire and refocuses on me. “An anonymous call,” he says simply.

A young EMT urges me to sit on the back of the ambulance. She asks me standard-issued questions about my wellbeing, then sets to work bandaging obvious cuts, being as careful as possible not to disturb any potential evidence.