After Dark Read online

  I come to the realization that I miss her already.

  Just as I decide that I will go back to the warehouse tonight, instead of tomorrow, I look up from the black abyss swirling gently in my cup and lock eyes with one of the most beautiful creatures I’ve ever seen. His narrow eyes hold my sad stare hostage. His features are feline, like a kitty, and it reminds me of the way my cheek ran across Jessa’s skin a couple of hours ago. I watch intently as he brings his fork to his mouth, his lips catching a crumb as he pulls the food from the utensil.

  Jessa is beautiful, but this man is exquisite.

  I hear the clank of the fork as it connects with his plate after he lowers it from his mouth. He picks up his napkin and presses it to his lips. That’s when I really notice them; his hands. The way his fingers move as he wipes them on the thin paper. He continues moving them, waving them back and forth as if enticing me on purpose. As if he is aware of my proclivity and wishes to be played with. I try to tear my gaze from him, but nothing works.

  When I can no longer stand it, I tamp out my cigarette and walk to where he sits. Something about him calls to me. Not as a kill, but rather someone who’s soul has reached out and captured mine.

  It will hold me hostage and never let me go.

  Chapter 2

  I take a sip of my room-temperature water, never taking my eyes off the man who’s approached me and interrupted my meal. Perhaps I invited him with a stare—but some invitations are better left unanswered.

  It happens more often than not, that my feral gaze will wander and rest on some unsuspecting person at any given time. Most times, that person doesn’t live much longer after, but this one—something is different about him, and while I’m not entirely sure what it is, I’d like to find out before I head back to work.

  “Something I can do for you?” I finally ask in a quiet tone, lowering my eyes to the semi-used napkin on my lap.

  It comes across as harsh and unwelcoming, yet he doesn’t seem deterred by it.

  Good, I think, fighting the smile that’s attempting to curve the edge of my lips.

  “I’m sorry to bother you, but I couldn’t help notice your …” his voice trails off and I glance up at him again with an arched eyebrow. “Um …” he rubs the back of his neck uneasily and I lean back in my seat as I begin to drum my fingers along the tabletop. When I’ve had enough of his obvious discomfort, I nod at the seat across from me.

  He smiles gratefully, almost in relief, as he sits and watches my fingers as they meticulously continue to tap along the dirty cloth hiding an old wooden table underneath.

  That’s part of the reason I choose this diner as often as I do.

  It has secrets it likes to hide—just like me.

  I take a deep breath as I lower my hands to my lap and turn my face away for a moment, my tongue gently caressing my lower lip, before I turn my attention back to him.

  “Was there a reason you came over?”

  I’m used to being stared at because I look so different from everyone else. I usually don’t mind it, but I have to head out soon and I don’t have time to play the guessing game with an obviously strange man in the middle of the night.

  He lets out his breath as he leans an elbow on the table, extends a hand toward me, and waits.

  Do I want to make his actual acquaintance, though?

  I like being left alone and he seems to be offering me the exact opposite of what I want right now.

  Maybe he’s offering me what I need instead.

  Hm.

  I use the cloth napkin on my lap to properly clean my hands of any excess grease I may have gotten on them while rapping on the table, then finally extend my hand toward his. He closes his around mine gently, shakes slowly, and smiles when the death of one thousand waits is finally over.

  “Bodhi,” I offer after we pull free of each other’s grip.

  “Knox.”

  I nod as I use the napkin to wipe my lips one last time, then toss it onto my half-eaten plate. If I have to spend the rest of my break exchanging pleasantries with Knox, I’d rather not eat while I do it. I find that sometimes manners go a long way in forgiving what someone’s appearance is.

  No matter how different.

  I narrow my eyes again as I let my chin rest in the palm of my hand and wait.

  If all he wanted to do was sit and stare at me, he could have stayed where he was.

  “Was there something else?” I ask a little colder than I mean to.

  I use the edge of my forefinger to scratch my chin and raise an eyebrow when I notice his eyes following the stroke of something so simple.

  I wonder …

  I decide to test the theory forming in my mind and lay my hands gently on the table in his line of sight, then begin to pick at the dead skin around my fingernails. His eyes watch every single movement, every piece of wasted flesh as I pluck it and toss it to the ground. And when I finally decide to fold my hands together, his gaze intensifies.

  “Interesting,” I say quietly.

  “Uh, what is?” he asks, finally tearing his eyes away from my hands and looking up at me. He’s in a daze it seems, and I think it has to do with the fact that I transfixed him so easily with something most people see as an anomaly.

  My hands are slim and bony; my fingers long and delicate—and Knox seems to be infatuated with them.

  “Nothing,” I say with a small smile.

  Everyone has their vices and if this is something he needs for the moment, then I’ll let him have his fun before we part ways.

  It’s not like I’ll ever see him again anyway.

  “Do you have a last name Knox?” I ask as I crane my neck to look for my server. It would be nice not to have the smell of food assaulting me while I try to have a conversation. Unfortunately, I’m still hungry and I have to place a hand against my stomach to keep the sound of rumbling as muffled as I can. I’ll just grab a snack at the canteen before I head back down to the dungeon.

  “Scott,” he answers.

  I wave at the server when I see her. She comes over and takes my plate, asking my new admirer if he’d like another cup of coffee, to which he shakes his head.

  “Do you?” he continues. “Have a last name, I mean.”

  The way the blush creeps over his face makes this almost too easy. I feel like I’d be wasting my time in pursuing him at a later time, but as I already know, I’ll never see him again. I like to play with my food before I eat it, and a challenge he is not.

  I think now is the time to break something to him that my appearance manages to hide so well. Much like the appendages he seems to love so much for some odd reason, the rest of my body is also slim, bony, and delicate. I’ve been mistaken for a female more than once because of my feral features, but I’m not interested in hiding what I am.

  Unlike the wooden table quietly sitting under a dirty cloth, I prefer to be known for what I am anatomically.

  I reach into my side pocket, fish out my wallet, then remove my driver’s license and slide it across the table toward him. He smiles at me uncertainly as he picks it up and I wait.

  Rowe, Bodhi will be the first thing he sees, followed by my address. As his eyes continue to scan the piece of plastic, I know that next he’ll see my date of birth, date of expiration—though not the kind I’d hope for—and finally, he’ll see the sex.

  But the smile never leaves his face as he takes in all of the information. It doesn’t falter, it doesn’t widen. If anything, his eyes are now wandering back to the picture of the sullen man staring at the lens of a camera, hoping things will end sooner rather than later.

  Once the server drops my check on the table, I reach across to retrieve my license, tucking it back into my wallet. I pull out three ten-dollar bills, place them on the slip of paper, then get to my feet.

  “Have a nice evening,” I tell Knox with a nod as I turn on my heel and walk out of the diner.

  The dead won’t clean themselves.

  Chapter 3

  I
never did make it back to the warehouse last night. I went home with thoughts of Bodhi wreaking havoc on my mind. I’m not going to be able to forget about him. I need to know what his hands feel like on my skin.

  I return to Jessa in the warehouse a few miles outside of town where I left her. I brought a large keyboard with me and a stand for it to sit on. It won’t be the same as her piano back at the school, but it will have to do. There is no way that I can get a real one out here on my own and I can’t exactly ask someone to help me with it either.

  Also, I can’t wait to tell her about Bodhi. For one night, instead of the memories of the way she gracefully fingered the ivory keys, I could only think of the way Bodhi’s index finger scraped along his chin at the diner; the way his slender fingers drummed on the hard, wood surface of the table. He pulled me in, in a way no one has before.

  “I brought you something,” I say as I enter the room.

  Her body jumped at the sound of my voice.

  I drop my messenger bag on the floor and set up the keyboard stand. I walk to where my chair is in the corner, grab it, and then place it in front of the stand. Then, I reach into my bag and pull out the two pairs of shackles I brought with me. They’re much longer than the kind they use on prisoners. I need her to have a little more room to move if I want her to be able to play for me. Before removing the ropes from her body, I place one end of the first pair of shackles around one of her wrists. The other end gets locked to the pipe in the ground.

  I remove the rope from around her wrists and bring her arms slowly from above her head and lay them on her stomach. She cries out.

  “Your arms are going to be sore for a little while from being in that position all night long.”

  I start to massage them, but she slaps my hands away now that they’re free to move around a bit.

  I grab one of her wrists and twist it painfully, nearly breaking it.

  “I would hate to have to hurt you, especially because it will affect your ability to play your music, but I will if I need to.”

  She stares up at me with an angry expression, breathing heavily. I smile sweetly back at her as I grab the other pair of shackles and place one end around her ankle. Wrapping the chain around my wrist, I untie the rope around her waist next; then, the one around her ankle. I help her off of the board and onto her feet. She sways unsteadily for a moment before I guide her to the chair to sit down. I have her lined up next to the pipes the board is strapped to, so I can attach the other end of her shackles to them.

  “I have some more things in my car that I need to bring in here. I’ll be right back.” I take her hand and place a kiss to her palm before I go.

  I return with the 76-key keyboard that I bought for her and a heavy duffle bag. I drop the bag to the floor with a loud thud and I can hear the weights clank against one another. Jessa’s terrified expression turns to me at the sound, but I reassure her she has nothing to worry about. Her eyes water as she looks at the floor beneath her.

  I place the keyboard on the stand and tighten the bolts to it, locking it in place. Then, I unzip the bag and pull out the 50 lb. weighted ball and chain that I brought. I carry it over to her and fasten it to the shackles around her ankle.

  There is no way she will be able to escape.

  I take my tape recorder, a few protein bars and some water, sheet music and pre-sharpened pencils out of my bag. I put the sheet music and pencils on the stand and kneel beside her, placing the food on the floor at her feet.

  “Okay, I need to go take care of some things, but I want you to have something to eat while I’m gone. Prepare a song for me to listen to for when I get back. I know this situation is a lot for you to take in, but you’re the best pianist I’ve ever heard. I know you have it in you. It doesn’t have to be very long, but I have to hear something new tonight.”

  I reach for her chin and pull her face to me, placing a kiss on her cheek. I can taste the tears on her skin and they make my mouth water. Walking to the corner of the room, I place the tape recorder out of her reach and press record. There is a brand-new tape inside of it and it can hold 12 hours worth of recordings on it. More than enough time until I get back here.

  “I am going to be recording you, so I will hear everything that goes on. I want to know that you put a lot of thought into what you’re going to play. When I listen to that tape, I better not be disappointed. Do you understand?” I say to her as I walk back to her chair.

  She doesn’t respond.

  “You’re a very smart girl. You understand,” I say as I pick up both of her hands. I kiss each finger once and place them on the keys in front of her.

  “I can’t wait to hear what you come up with,” I say before walking out.

  I went back to the diner that night hoping I would find him, but he never showed. I was disappointed and I regret that I took it out on Jessa when I got back to the warehouse. She really did try to write something beautiful, but I could tell her heart wasn’t in it. I brought her a thin padded mat to sleep on as well as a pillow and a blanket. I left it by the door where she could see it but not be able to reach it, so she would learn her lesson.

  When I got to the warehouse this morning, she was sitting up, sleeping, with her back resting against the pipes. She had dirt all over her, as if she moved around on the ground the entire night trying to get comfortable.

  “Good morning,” I say, scaring her awake. I know I have a melancholy look on my face as I approach her. I am sad. I’m sad that I got angry with her yesterday and I’m sad that I didn’t get a chance to see Bodhi last night.

  “I was angry last night.” I sit on the ground next to her and lean back against the pipes, mimicking her position. “See, I met someone the night I brought you here. To say I am enamored with him would be an understatement. All I wanted was to see him again last night, but he didn’t show up. I took it out on you,” I made sure not to admit it was the wrong thing to do; I didn’t want her thinking I was soft.

  “But that doesn’t change how I feel about your progress yesterday. I hope you understand how important this is now; and that you’re ready to take it seriously.”

  Chapter 4

  I light a cigarette before I pull my gloves on. I always had a fascination with the dead and when the opportunity presented itself, I signed up for a few forensic courses and managed to land a job in the local hospital.

  My shop, as I like to refer to it as, is in the basement of the building, down the end of a hallway with a room that requires clearance to get into, and it’s all mine. Well, I like to think it is even though it belongs to the city but I get to be myself in this quiet space and spend time with people that won’t judge me based on what I look like.

  Sometimes, it’s a curse while other times it’s a blessing. Curiosity can get the better of strangers that haven’t seen someone quite like me before and it’ll lead to a conversation or two, and once in a great while, I’ll indulge them.

  I don’t really care for talking to strangers since I’m happy being alone, but …

  Knox is fucking beautiful, I think with a sigh as I take a drag from my smoke then secure it between my teeth as I get to work. I have to clean the corpse first, the problem is this is an MVA—a motor vehicle accident—and wherever this particular person sat in the car rendered them into a pretty, mangled mess.

  Kind of like me, I muse with a smile as I allow a billow of smoke to escape from the corner of my mouth. I begin to hose the body down, cleaning as many of the creases and crevices as I can. I know I’ll have to find a way to untangle the body without destroying it, but that’s something I’ve become quite good at.

  I’d like to think I’m the best in the city, and if given the chance, I’d like to try my hand at reconstruction; however, I know that’s something that has to be left for the undertaker when he comes to collect his latest and greatest paycheck.

  I set the hose down on the side of the slab, wiping my sweaty brow with my forearm before I walk over to my desk and turn the radio
on. I remove one of the gloves to make it easier to tune the stations, then smile when a Lynyrd Skynyrd song comes on. I make my way to the sink, scrub myself clean from my fingertips to my elbows before I slide a new pair of gloves and go back to my work.

  Cracking my neck to the right, I let another puff of smoke escape from my partially open mouth as I continue washing away as much of the debris as I can. Once I’m fairly certain I’ve done a good enough job, I turn the hose off and let it rest on the side-hook of the slab before I step back and give my work a critical once over.

  I walk past my desk and make my way toward the table where I keep my tools, pristine and shining, and retrieve my favorite pair of forceps. This is going to take some serious elbow grease and precision to not break anymore bones will I begin to straighten out this body, but I have no doubt that I can get it done.

  I begin at the neck.

  The body always reacts to what’s done to the spinal cord, and while this one has lost its sense of feel, I know it’ll be easiest to start at the top and work my way down.

  Once I’ve managed to straighten the head and neck out, the hard part begins. I step away from the corpse, take a drag of my smoke, then pull my gloves off. I won’t need them for this and they’ll only get in my way if I keep them on. I’d rather not make this any more difficult than it needs to be.

  The shoulders are broken—I can see the bones sticking through the charred flesh, but again, that’s something the undertaker will have to work for.

  It takes me about two hours and forty-five minutes to straighten out … Justin, according to the file I have out on my desk. When I’m finally done, I let out a sigh of relief and toss my tools onto my desk.

  I’ll clean up all that tomorrow night, I decide as I sit down in front of my computer and bring the screen to life. Another cigarette, another few moments of waiting, another random thought of Knox floating through my mind before I let out a sigh and open my email application.