Night Cries (Hunters of the Dark #2) by Dave Ferraro
“Sorry ‘bout that,” he murmured. He looked around and tried to sit up.
“No, no, let’s save our strength,” the nurse urged. She sent a meaningful look at Valor as she said “I’ll inform the doctor” and left them alone.
“The sirens?” Jordan asked
“You don’t need to worry about them,” Valor told him. “What’s important is that you’re alright now. Shanna and some of the others are catching a flight back out tomorrow to visit.”
"That sounds nice." He smiled sleepily and looked around. “And where’s my sister?”
***
“Well, thank god that’s over,” Shanna sighed, flopping down enthusiastically onto her bed.
Cameron sat down beside her and nodded. “You were really brave, you know. Charging halfway across the world to save me.”
“Eh. All in a day’s work. Besides, what else am I here for, if not things like that?” She smiled sheepishly. “Anyway, if I recall correctly, I wasn’t the only heroic one today.”
“What can I say? You inspire me.”
Shanna looked at him for a moment, then burst out laughing. “I inspire you? Did you really just say that?”
Blushing, Cameron sent her a scalding look. “I mean it. You make me want to be better at what I do. Take chances. You make me want to fight for something again. For you.”
Shanna lay back on her pillow and smiled up at him. “That’s really sweet of you to say.”
“It’s true.” Cameron shifted on the bed to lay down next to her, and Shanna, in turn, lay her head on his chest, an arm resting nonchalantly across him.
“You want to fight for me, huh? Like a knight in shining armor?”
“Yep.”
“I don’t want to be a princess though.”
“You don’t have to be. You can be a knight too.”
Shanna looked up at him sleepily. “And I can protect you too.”
Cameron smiled down at her and kissed her on the forehead, realizing that she had already fallen asleep. He stared at her for a moment, memorizing her features, listening to her soft breathing. Putting his arms around her, he hugged her gently and closed his own eyes. “Anything that makes you feel less alone.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Jordan turned down the hallway that the nurse had indicated and swiped at his forehead. He felt clammy. A little sick. Hospitals... They were so impersonal…and held plenty of bad memories.
Add one more to the list.
He glanced down at the bouquet of flowers in his hand and frowned. Pathetic. Why was he holding a pathetic bouquet? Jade didn’t even like flowers. But it was the customary thing to do, right? The gesture would…what? Soothe her? Make her forget that her arm had just been ripped off?
He gasped and paused mid-stride. Tears slid down his cheek and a choking in his throat threatened to loose a series of wails, like the ones he’d cried out in the shower before he’d left his hotel room. He’d cried and sworn and beat the ceramic walls until he'd felt numb, but he still felt so much more pain. He didn’t know what to do with it all. He couldn’t shake it - it just came out in random episodes of grief.
With a deep breath, Jordan forced himself to collect his composure and stare up the hall, his eyes immediately finding the door he searched for, as if he felt her waiting for him behind it. His twin. The person he knew, cared for, more than anyone in the world. His impulsive, beautiful, broken sister.
For her. He would be strong for her.
That did the trick. He could do anything for her. He found himself moving forward, up the hall with a certain confidence that came from some unknown well of strength and resolve.
And then he was in the room with her.
She looked up, startled to suddenly find him in her midst. Her eyes were round and dark. She was pale and so thin.
But he wouldn’t cry. For her.
Valor stood up from the chair beside her bed and silently left them alone after a quick soothing hand to his shoulder.
The door clicked closed quietly behind them and they were alone.
“Jordan,” Jade breathed. A smile melted her tense features and Jordan was beside her in a second, hugging her, careful of the bandages on her left side. “Oh, Jordan. I screwed up bad. I’m so sorry.”
Jordan shook his head, not trusting himself to speak right away. He just held her, thanking God for his sister’s life, no matter how hurt she’d been.
When he finally pulled back, Jade was crying. His strong sister had tears trailing down her cheeks. He couldn’t help but look away.
“They couldn’t save my arm,” she said, her voice shaking a little as she said it. “I’m lucky though. At least, that’s what they tell me.” She looked down at her bandaged shoulder, almost lovingly. “And it’s kind of strange, but I still feel it. I feel myself lifting my hand to run it through my hair, to pick up a glass of water.”
“It’s a phantom limb,” Jordan told her. “That’s…what they call that feeling.”
“Phantom limb,” Jade repeated. “I wonder, if I’d died, would you still feel me out there, like we can feel each other now? Would I be your phantom limb?”
“Don’t…”
“I’m sorry. I’m just tired. And in pain. If you don’t mind, I think I should sleep.”
Jordan nodded and stood up stiffly. He glanced over at the flowers he’s brought, already forgotten on the table beside her.
“I’m happy to see you, Jordan,” Jade said. “I’m…glad that you’re here.”
Smiling back at her, Jordan left her quietly.
The moment the door closed behind him, his hand shook uncontrollably and silent sobs wracked his frame as he slid to the cold, impersonal floor.
Epilogue
Shanna laughed gaily as she was swung around the room, her feet barely touching the ground as she danced to the music. “Damien, put me down!” she ordered.
Damien laughed. “You don’t really want me to.”
Smiling, Shanna knew that it was true, but protested nonetheless. She felt uncomfortable dancing with him while her friends watched on. Jordan, Amelia, Rachel, Jade. Valor, Hunter, Natalia, Brett. Felicia, Krystal, Kelly. Cameron didn’t look very happy. And Serene was beside him…that didn’t seem right.
“Damien, stop, stop, stop.”
Damien obliged and looked down at her with a hurt expression. “You don’t like me anymore?”
Shanna shook her head. “I’m dreaming.”
“Yes,” Damien agreed. “You are dreaming, so what does it matter if they watch?”
Shanna looked back at her friends. They’d all turned their backs to them. Except for Serene. She was smiling. It was an unsettling picture.
“What’s going on here?”
“What do you mean? We’re dancing!”
“But…” She looked past her friends and recognized other faces from her past. Lupe, Rocquele, Samantha. Tessa, Noel, Scarlet Fever. And another figure in the shadows, a spiky-haired outline all she could make out. “I don’t like this.”
“Come. Stop being silly now.”
“I’m not being silly.” She turned and walked away. Away from Damien, away from the crowd that looked on.
“Diana, where are you going?”
“I’m…” Shanna felt her mouth go dry. “I’m not…”
Shanna woke up in a cold sweat and sat up straight. Her eyes roved around the room wildly, trying to see if anything was hiding in the darkness. She felt an overwhelming sense of something watching her.
Cameron shifted and touched her arm. “Shanna? Are you alright?”
Shanna immediately felt the tension leave her body and smiled, shrugging off her irrational fears. “Yes. I just had a…bad dream.”
“We fell asleep.”
Laughing, Shanna agreed. “Again.”
“It’s becoming a habit of ours.”
“One that I don’t mind. I l
“I should…probably get back to my room,” Cameron announced, hesitating as he stood up.
She watched him look back at her, hoping that she’d ask him to stay. Ask him for more than that, perhaps. But she didn’t. And he left her to the darkness.
And somehow, she felt safer than before. Maybe just more comfortable, without having to worry about how another person was feeling. She’d grown up alone, and maybe she’d gotten so used to it that she couldn’t feel at ease, at least not absolutely at ease, with another human being.
She closed her eyes and saw Damien’s smiling face before her, like she’d imagined him in her dream.
Then he said it again. “Diana.”
And she shuddered.
THE END
Here's a sneak preview of the Hunters of the Dark prequel, The Tomb...
Chapter One
Watching the water fill the crevices of the rocks beneath her feet, before receding back into the ocean and beginning anew, gave the blonde girl waiting at the docks a chance to slow her beating heart, as she was doing her best to calm herself before setting out on a voyage unlike any she’d ever ventured on before.
After a moment, a crab caught her eye, its glistening, bulky body trekking over the rocks clumsily before each wave of ocean water buried it, whereupon it would pause, as if to hold its breath, before continuing when the water had been drawn back once again. She watched the crab continue in this way until it was hidden from view behind some larger rocks.
A wind stirred her hair, spraying salt water into her face, which she found refreshing, although she gave in to a little squeal of surprise, sending her heart rate back into territory she’d worked so hard to bring it down from. But it was quite hard for her to keep calm when she was finally going to get a taste of freedom from her stifling upbringing, and, as she saw it, make a name for herself doing what she wanted to do more than anything.
“Miss Thyme?” a voice asked tentatively, shaking her from her reverie.
“Please call me Rachel,” she looked up at the man, nearly forty with a head of shaggy blonde hair peeking out from beneath the sort of hat she imagined people would wear on a safari. He was so tan and leathery that she mused he must spend most of his time out of doors, perhaps doing the sorts of things they were setting off to do themselves just then. Perhaps he was actually in his early thirties, but the environments he found himself in were so harsh that they’d prematurely aged him. With a tiny smile, she congratulated herself for having the insight to pack several bottles of sunscreen and various products and moisturizers that factored in the harsh side effects of too much time outside. If she was to make a career of this, and retain her youthful radiance for as long as possible, she would need to be wary of the many roadblocks she would encounter, the most obvious being prolonged exposure to the sun, but she would be accounting for free radicals and a lack of resources on her expeditions as well. Which is why she’d packed so…thoughtfully. She frowned and bit her lip, refusing to let her mother’s obsessive regimens when it came to beauty get in the way of her dreams. She would take care of herself, but she would not become obsessed if she could help it, even though at that very moment she was wondering if she hadn’t been light on the sunscreen she’d already applied. Shaking off this doubt, she flashed the man a brilliant smile. “And you must be Professor Grant?”
“Ah, yes,” the man seemed to recollect himself and held a hand out for her, which Rachel gave an enthusiastic shake. “How rude of me. At your service, my dear.”
“I’m very grateful for this opportunity, Mr. Grant,” she told him. “I’m very excited about what we can accomplish here and I’ll work very hard to help in any way I can.”
Mr. Grant seemed impressed with this speech and beamed at her. “Yes, well, if your father’s reports are any indication, you will be quite the commodity. You seem rather enthusiastic, if anything.”
Rachel chuckled and inwardly let out a sigh of relief. She’d been hoping for a warm group of people to be patient with her in her first archaeological expedition, and it seemed that her father had not let her down in that regard.
“Professor Grant!” a man’s voice rang out.
They turned to see a figure jogging lightly toward them from where a nearby boat was docked. From the distance, she could tell that he was in prime shape, dressed casually in a yellow polo and khaki shorts. As he drew nearer, she admired his arms, one of the first physical attributes she noticed in men, and was immediately struck by his handsome face with his high cheekbones and dark chocolate brown hair that seemed to be styled in that way that boys had of making it look like they hadn’t spent much time on it, though it had been meticulously fretted over.
When the boy was a dozen or so feet away, he slowed to a stop and grinned, a drop of sweat gathering on his upper lip, of which she could hardly fault him, as Australia was rather warm and more humid than what she was used to in her hometown in Mississippi at this time of year, or even the private school she’d attended in France.
“Aw, Chase, my good boy,” Professor Grant waved him toward Rachel. “Meet Ms. Thyme, who will be joining us.”
“It’s Rachel,” she insisted, taking his hand.
“Pleased to meet you, Rachel,” he said with eyes that traveled over her quickly, admiringly, before breaking off and turning to the professor.
Rachel blushed a little. Having spent the past four years in an all girls’ school, she wasn’t very used to the attention of boys, although her figure would most likely tell a different story, as she was really quite beautiful.
Watching the two men exchange words, Rachel looked down at her designer Jeans and one-of-a-kind top and felt overdressed for the occasion. She didn’t have much in terms of work clothes, but had had the foresight to buy a variety of casual shirts and shorts for the trip, yet she hadn’t expected them to never have the opportunity to dress up a bit. They would have some nights off, wouldn’t they? She bit her lip. Of course, if they were to dress up, their initial boat ride to the island would be the time, would it not? She took a mental inventory of her clothes quickly, although the sudden screeching of a few seagulls circling overhead tested her concentration. She glanced up at them with an annoyed glare.
“Then it looks like we will be taking off,” Professor Grant suddenly remarked, turning to her. “Chase, please take Miss Thyme’s luggage onboard for her.”
Chase made to reach for them, but Rachel intercepted him, picking up the two heavy bags herself. “No, really, I insist on doing it myself,” she protested, wincing at the weight and chiding herself for over packing.
With a shrug, Chase walked alongside the professor over to the boat with Rachel trailing after them, attempting, with some difficulty, to look as though the bags were not as heavy and awkward as they were. She did not want to begin the voyage with other people having to help her out already. She was committed to being as independent and helpful as possible. She would be a hindrance to no one.
Chase and the professor passed by the large boat docked nearby that Rachel had assumed would be taking them across the water, and instead walked up the dock to a much smaller yacht. She must have looked surprised, because Chase cocked an eyebrow and said. “Not up to your usual standards?”
Rachel sent him a dirty look as Professor Grant was helped onboard by a young tanned man with an open, billowy white button-up shirt, whom she assumed was native to Australia, and soon understood to be the captain of the yacht, although he seemed rather young to her, probably in his mid-twenties. “No, it’s just fine. I just thought we’d have a larger crew of people on this expedition. This could hardly carry more than six.”
Chase nodded. “Yeah, most everybody is already on Black Forest Island setting up camp. We’re the last little group. But look at
“Whoa,” Chase looked startled with the first bag he took from her, and sent her a questioning look, but said nothing further about it. “We have to take a few trips to get everyone to and from the island, but we didn’t really have any need to rent a bigger boat. That luxury would require more funding. And from what I’ve heard, we’re barely squeaking by on the budget we’ve got. Nobody’s expecting much from this dig.”
Carefully stepping into the boat, Rachel looked around the small deck with a perimeter of benches and two folding chairs, the word “cozy” coming to mind, although she’d learned years earlier that the word was interchangeable with “small.” Coming from a rather rich, indulgent family, she was consciously trying to keep such materialistic thoughts at bay. She’d also learned long ago that money couldn’t buy happiness. That had most likely been one of her first lessons in life.
“Not expecting much?” Rachel echoed him, shoving her luggage in a corner of the deck, near what she assumed was his. “Why not? The ruins on this island…”
“Old news,” he said. “The ruins have been tagged and bagged by various groups. Professor Grant’s new theory of underground chambers is based on some ruins on the Australian mainland. Not many find it likely that there will be anything so elaborate on an obscure island, despite the similarities.”
“Well, we’ll just have to prove them wrong.”
Chase blinked, then let out a short laugh. “I guess we will.”
Professor Grant stepped out onto the deck from below with the captain, who quickly left his side to pull in all of the ropes keeping them docked, before setting off.
“The camp site should be set up by the time we arrive,” the professor informed them. “And as dusk is fast approaching, the entire camp may already be asleep as well.”
“How long is the ride out there?” Rachel questioned.
“I believe our last trip took about two hours. Once we get past the reef, it’s just north a tick. Enjoy the weather while we go; This is the perfect time of year to be in Australia.”