Grays shadow, p.11
Gray's Shadow, page 11
part #4 of Kings of Hell MC Series
Gray balled his hands into fists, his eyes instantly stinging, even though he knew it was emotional blackmail. “Why do you have to mention him now?”
Rev’s wrinkled face tensed as if it were made of hardening concrete. “Because he did a stupid, reckless thing, and I don’t want you to end up like him. Is that so hard to understand?”
Gray took a step back, for a moment losing balance. There was some truth to what Rev was saying, as much as it hurt to admit it. Still, guilt expanded in his guts like a venomous snake about to eat him up from the inside. “Let’s not talk about it.”
“Let’s not. If you ever change your mind about the workshop, you know where to find me,” Rev said, but slammed the door shut, creating a physical border between them.
Gray leaned against the wall, listening to the distant sound of music coming from somewhere downstairs. Only now, alone with his thoughts, the toxic idea that the life he knew was over spread through his brain, poisoning all plans and memories until his sense of pride started wilting.
His brothers had lost their faith in him.
With his skull feeling empty, like when was drunk, he made his way along the corridor and down another staircase. He didn’t want to see anyone nor be seen.
The emptiness on one side of his body was impossible to miss, and from now on, every person he met would see him through the prism of the stump, or the fake hand that he would eventually obtain.
He would no longer be Gray, the best fighter, the best shot among the Kings of Hell. He’d be Gray the cripple.
He was about to speed up and rush outside so that he could walk out his anger and disappointment in the woods surrounding the clubhouse, when his gaze slid over the rarely-used corridor that led to the collection of rooms used as cells.
It was as if something had short-circuited in his brain and redirected his footsteps toward the hidden entrance to the cellar. A new kind of energy streamed through Gray’s veins as he opened the door and made his way downstairs in the light of a single bulb. He might not be ready to go on a job alone just yet, but he would be if he had a tool to make up for his lost arm.
Nobody would push him out of the work he was valued for, not for as long as he lived.
Gray dragged the bolt keeping Shadow’s cell locked and opened the door, ready to face the crouching giant somewhere in the dark. His heart skipped a beat, and his skin broke out in goosebumps when he thought the monster might be waiting for its opportunity to jump him, but then the metal door hit something, and the dull thud was followed by a pathetic howl.
In disbelief, Gray watched Shadow’s form crawl away from him, curled up like a dog afraid of being kicked again. The odor of sweat, dirt, and rotting food hit him so hard his eyes watered, but he kept his position, staring at the creature as if none of this could affect him. Very briefly, guilt twitched at the back of Gray’s mind when the spartan conditions of Shadow’s dark living space opened up to him, but he pushed them down, reminding himself why he’d locked the monster up in the first place.
Shadow wasn’t human. He didn’t even fucking digest his food and simply absorbed it all like a black hole. There was no reason to feel sorry for him when he likely acted the way he did in order to continue whatever mission Baal had given him.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asked, spreading his limbs to look bigger, because Shadow’s size, even when curled up on the dirty floor, intimidated him whether he liked it or not. It worked on bears, so maybe it could aid him here as well.
“I just—I wanted to…” Shadow licked his lips, staring at Gray without blinking. The mass of wavy black hair covered half his face and shoulders, making him blend into the darkness even more effectively.
Gray’s lips parted when he noticed a freaking Taco Bell bag on the floor, as well as a blanket he hadn’t given him. He nudged the bag with the tip of his boot.
“Where did this come from?”
Shadow shifted from side to side, getting up as if in slow motion. “From… friends.”
Laughable. Whoever decided to do the irresponsible thing and fraternize with the creation of their enemy—the enemy of the whole fucking humankind at that—had given it false hope. “You don’t have any friends. Who’s feeding you?” Gray asked, trying to be as stern as possible when he stepped inside, claiming the space as his own the same way he’d seen in documentaries on dog training.
Shadow showed his true colors when he bared his teeth. “I do have friends, because I am a good person.”
A person. Shadow had some grand ideas about himself. But he also seemed miserable, scared, and he’d likely do anything to be let out for a breath of fresh air. Gray kept his voice level and dominant as he spoke. “I take it you had enough time to think about what you’ve done, so I’m willing to consider letting you out of here. Do you think you’re ready?”
Shadow’s face held no secrets. He opened his mouth, eyes wide, eyebrows high, and he stepped forward with a gasp. Gray had to fight himself not to flee. “Yes, I’m ready. So ready. I’ve had so much time to think here. I will do whatever you want.”
Was this a trap? A ploy to lead Gray away from people who could help him, were Shadow to attack? His chest dipped when he let out a long-held breath of air. “But I have one condition. You will go with me now and do exactly what I tell you. And I mean exactly, is that clear?”
“Y-yes.” Shadow made a deep inhale, all too close to Gray.
Shadow was smelling him. Would he disobey when allowed too much leeway? Gray still recalled the ease with which Shadow had picked him up and thrown him onto the bed. As if he were a fuck puppet for this monster’s satisfaction.
“Just remember, this will be a test. I’m taking you with me because I’m not yet used to having only one arm.”
Shadow cocked his head. “And… You would really like to have two?”
It was as if a blow of cold air had frozen Gray’s chest, but deep inside burned an anger so violent Gray was just a step away from landing a punch. “What do you think?”
Shadow smiled widely, and the stench he exuded from up close could wake a dead man. “I think you’re perfect. But having only one is giving you difficulty?” He spoke slowly, as if he for once weighed every word.
Here Gray was, mocked by the one thing that could help him win back the respect of his club. The strain on his heart was so great he found it hard to breathe, and the stump suddenly exploded with a dull ache Gray couldn’t ignore. “Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea after all.” He shook his head.
“No, no, please!” Shadow grabbed Gray’s hand, and only a split second later, Gray realized he was being touched by the freaky extra arm usually kept within Shadow’s body.
He was about to shove it off in anger, but the dark substance it was made of softened, and crawled up Gray’s hand like an army of ants melted into one. It marched up all too quickly for him to react, and left a pattern of warmth all over his shoulders. In a surreal moment, it broke off Shadow’s body and crawled under Gray’s clothes, moving across his torso like a parasite about to bite in.
Gray wanted to scream, but no voice came out of his mouth, when, to his horror, the black goo pulled at the muscles in his chest and shoulder, dragging on his stump like a bag of fighting cats. He stumbled to the wall, shocked by the burning heat searing through his bones.
And then he saw it. The sleeve of his jacket expanded, and once he spotted the growing presence where his clothes have been empty, he couldn’t focus on anything else.
His heart thudded in alarm, but he was transfixed by the beauty of tar-black fingers emerging from the sleeve and forming a perfect hand with long digits and a slim wrist. He moved the digits in a wave-like motion, and the shadowy image of his own hand did exactly what he’d intended.
“Would this help?” Shadow whispered, inching closer.
Gray just stared, unable to come up with a sensible answer. The shape of the hand was identical the one he’d lost, up to the slightly crooked pinky. He’d broken it fighting with Mike over who would ride in the bitch seat of the first bike they’d pooled money for.
And now it was back. It was back.
When Gray looked up at Shadow, it was as if they were only meeting for the first time. From behind tangled tresses, Shadow’s jewel-like eyes watched him intently, begging for approval. How the fuck was something like this even possible?
At the back of his mind was fear that this was some kind of trap, a setup for vengeance in the future, but he could see only sincerity in the dirty yet handsome face.
“I... can feel it. How did you do this?” he choked out.
“It’s yours. I’m your shadow. As long as I’m around, you can have it whenever you want.” Shadow shifted from side to side, and even his putrid smell didn’t matter anymore. He smiled. “Do you want another one?”
The anger at Shadow using the hand to tie Gray to him only lasted a split second, because the following question made all Gray’s muscles relax. He laughed.
He shouldn’t have found the naive question adorable, but he did.
“Very funny,” he said, trying to get serious again, because he hadn’t come here to joke around, but the smile refused to leave his face as he experimented by pulling the black fingers across his mouth.
They were slightly warmer than his body usually was, and smooth to the touch, but if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he would have thought he’d dreamt up the amputation. It was bizarre. And yet so exhilarating he was ready to take on an army by himself.
Shadow bit his lip. “What else would you like me to do?”
Gray met Shadow’s gaze, trying to rein in his smile, but it was a lost cause. Shadow knew of his weakness anyway, so there was no point pretending that the shadow hand was nothing to him.
It changed everything.
Gray took a few deep breaths to clear his head before straightening his back. Celebration could wait.
“We have a ruby to steal.”
Chapter 9
Gray had never been so grateful for the wind blowing into his face. The handles of the sleek, lightweight motorbike trembled in his grip, sending the tremor all the way to his shoulders. Just hours ago, he’d still been in the process of mourning his lost limb, convinced that he’d have to go through having a prosthetic arm fitted, his bike modified, and maybe fight some battles with the DMV on the way just so that he could ride again.
Now? Now he felt as if it had all been a bad dream, and he’d just awakened on his bike, rushing into the night with nothing holding him back.
Well. Almost nothing.
Shadow was glued to his flesh, and though after a week in the cell he did stink like a sweaty T-shirt after a long workout, he was also pleasantly warm and had asked for permission to touch when he got on behind Gray. So there was progress. But it was the plain way in which he craved to please Gray that was unexpectedly endearing.
But then Gray reminded himself that he hadn’t taken Shadow out of the cell to enjoy his company. He’d done it to heighten his chances of succeeding at a job the club deemed too risky to attempt. What they really meant though was that they weren’t certain a crippled Gray could do it, and the rest of them weren’t adept at work that required stealth and would have to prepare first.
Gray didn’t. Gray could do this kind of shit even woken up in the middle of the night—even without one arm—and he would prove to them that he was still the same man. That he didn’t need to be coddled or protected from danger that had always been an integral element of the work he did for the club.
The Pigeon Heart was being moved from the New York City museum, where it had been a part of a temporary exhibition, back to its owner. It would be at its most vulnerable in transit, and Gray refused to let this opportunity slip through his fingers just because the others no longer had trust in his abilities. He would prove them wrong.
Beast hadn’t been thrilled to find out about Gray’s rogue solo mission, but with almost three hours’ advantage on his brothers, Gray could no longer be stopped. As long as Shadow remained at his side, he’d be once again complete and perfectly capable of going through with this job. The Pigeon Heart wasn’t just a pretty jewel to sell to a sheikh somewhere on the other side of the world. The fate of them all depended on whether the club put their hands on that stone, and there was no way Gray would let this opportunity slip through his fingers. And once he succeeded, none of his brothers would have any doubts about his abilities.
Life would be back to normal again.
He sped up and took a deep inhale of the fresh air blowing at him through the corridor of the thick woodland on either side of the road. Once again, he was free and whole.
Away from large towns, the night was perfect for hiding them from unwanted gazes. It was late, so there was a chance that whatever crew was taking care of the transit wouldn’t be as alert as during the day, some perhaps even sleeping. There would be no distractions, only pure focus to prove Gray’s worth.
The rail tracks ran past an overpass that led to nowhere—part of an incomplete roadworks project that had long been abandoned and hidden away in the thick greenery of the forest. It would be the perfect spot to strike, and the navigation device would easily lead him back there once he left the train.
He was on time and ready.
Silence boomed in his ears when he switched off his engine and took a deep breath of the fresh air scented with early spring. It was no longer just damp leaves and pine. Now there were grassy undertones to the aroma, and he smiled, glad to be out here on his own. He loved his biker brothers dearly, but on a fast and quiet mission like this one, company would have only been a liability.
Movement right behind him was a startling reminder that even though he was technically the only person on the bridge, he still had to deal with Shadow. Originally, Gray had intended to use Shadow as backup, but the black arm that felt so right it might as well have been Gray’s own flipped the game on its head. Now Gray could do the job alone. He just needed Shadow to follow.
“What are we looking for?” Shadow asked, leaning over the concrete edge on the side of the unfinished overpass.
Gray swallowed, straining his eyes, which barely discerned the tips of the trees against the background of the sky. It was a starless night, so whatever light could have aided him on the job was blocked by thick clouds.
“Let us get this straight. We are not looking for anything. That’s my job. Yours is to keep quiet and follow me at all times. And don’t switch on any lights without permission.”
Shadow made a grunt that got Gray wondering if taking him had been a good idea after all, but the creeper nodded, standing so close they almost touched.
And he smelled so bad. Gray really should have considered letting him shower, because at this rate, the odor of the unwashed hair and old sweat would alarm the whole train.
“Not that close.”
Shadow moved half a step away at best, but at least he wasn’t putting his hands where they didn’t belong. Gray only hoped that whoever had been bringing him extra food wasn’t fucking him too, because that would have been gross.
Gray switched on the light in his watch and exhaled when he realized they had about twenty minutes of awkward silence left. On the motorbike at least they couldn’t really chat, but being forced into the vicinity of someone whose company he didn’t enjoy was way beyond Gray’s comfort zone. But he would endure. For the success of this job.
And for the arm.
He slid the fingers of his real hand across the black palm, still awestruck by how real, how warm it felt to the touch. Would the arm stay once Shadow was gone, or would Gray be back to being disabled?
He didn’t want to think about it just yet. Not when life felt so close to bearable again
“Do you like how it feels?” Shadow asked, apparently unable to keep his mouth shut unless threatened with a gun.
Without the headlights of the motorcycle, it had been easy to believe Gray was here on his own, as if Shadow had somehow become one with the darkness.
“What?”
“Touch it again. I saw you touch it.”
Gray blinked and turned to face the voice coming from above his head. “You see in the dark?”
Red eyes glowed, reminding Gray of the ghoulish presence that melded with the night. “You don’t?”
“No.” Something choked Gray’s throat from the inside, a sense of vulnerability that came from being around a predator. What if Shadow were able to use Gray’s new arm against him?
Shadow pondered that for a while, which was a first, because so far he seemed to always say whatever came to his mind. “I do. And I saw you touch the arm. You should touch it again, see how it feels.”
Gray frowned, absent-mindedly rubbing his own fingertips between the digits of the borrowed hand. It was such a strange sensation to feel the touch while knowing the limb shouldn’t be there. The limb looked odd too—as if he’d tattooed all of it with the blackest ink on earth, and yet he no longer felt an itch in the stump, nor pain. He simply had the arm back, even if it had a different appearance.
Shadow’s breath hitched, and he wouldn’t take his eyes off Gray, staring at him like a dog would at a bone. His voice, low and oddly pleasant, came out with a rasp. “Does it feel good to touch it?”
“It feels nice to have it back. Why do you ask?”
Shadow shifted, making some noise with his feet. He loomed over Gray, close enough for Gray to smell him, yet kept just enough distance. “It’s just that… You said I can’t touch you. But I feel the arm, so I get to touch you and not touch you all at once when you do that. Since we have time, why don’t you touch something else? It doesn’t have to be me.”
It was as if the black arm suddenly became an alien presence, a parasite sucking blood out of Gray’s body. Nausea settled in his chest, and he stepped away from Shadow, on the verge of panic when he realized he was taking a part of the creature with him anyway.
