“Dyce, why are you really doing this?” I asked.
He spun the duct tape in deliberate circles as he leaned closer to me. “Gabe had plans that night which he wasn’t able to finish. So I’ll do it for him.” “I don’t believe Gabe would want you to hurt someone he loved.” “You never really knew him.”
“But you do?” I scoffed.
He nodded. “Like we’re the same person.”
“And he approves of this?” I asked with disgust, gesturing around the room that now felt like a prison. “Revenge on me won’t help him.” “There are different degrees of revenge, and honor has merit, too, although I don’t expect you to understand.” He spoke in a harsh formal tone that was different from how he’d spoken when we first met. His mannerisms had altered in subtle yet decisive ways; he spoke less like a teen and more like someone older even than my parents.
“You’re right — I don’t understand.” I forced myself to remain calm. The most important lesson I’d learned from all my self-help books was to stay confident and never admit weakness. No fear was allowed in kidnappings and the music biz. “If Gabe is okay, why did he send you instead of coming himself?” “He can’t move in his body.”
“Paralyzed? So he’s like in a wheelchair? Ohmygod!” I whispered hoarsely. “That’s horrible. Why didn’t he tell me? I would have helped.” “Like you helped him over the cliff?”
“That was an accident, and I was horrified when it happened. I’m sorry he’s hurt, but none of this will heal him. Don’t you realize that kidnapping is serious? Is this worth going to prison?” “Life is my prison,” he said with a bitter smile. Then he jerked me to my bare feet. “Hold out your arms, Sharayah.” “No!” This was too familiar, as if the nightmare dream of Sharayah’s was repeating itself, only by a different beach and with a different guy.
I screamed, but although my voice was strong, my arms weren’t, and his fingers pressed fiercely, binding my wrists with tape. I struggled, overwhelmed with a sudden dizziness. I wondered if the tea I’d sipped had been drugged.
“Let me go!” I cried, fighting to stay clearheaded.
“It’s your fault I have to get rough,” he said, pushing me back against the seat. “I was going to make you fall in love with me first.” That confirmed it — he was insane.
“You can’t just make someone love you,” I argued.
“Oh, can’t I?” He chuckled. “Saying things like ‘you’re different from other girls’ is a good starter line. It’s sad, really, how easy it is to manipulate naive girls. All it takes is some compliments, poetry and a romantic meeting. So I paid that kid a hundred bucks to attack you.” “That kid?” The room around me seemed to spin. “You mean … Warren?” “Right. It was all staged, of course, and he followed my script. I showed up just in time to rescue you, dazzle you with my heroics and look into your eyes in a way that left you longing for more. It was working, too. You wanted to see me again, didn’t you?” “No!” I lied, unwilling to give him that satisfaction. I’d been intrigued, grateful and eager to see Dyce again. But I’d also felt guilty, too, because how could I be attracted to Dyce when I had such a great thing started with Eli?
But now I find out his rescue was scripted! Unbelievable!
Warren’s role in this was even more surprising. Why would a Dark Lifer care about money? Or could I have been wrong about Warren? The gloves may not have meant anything, simply been a bad fashion choice. Is that why my GEM told me he’d been returned to his “dwelling”?
“Don’t deny it,” Dyce was saying. “We both know you wanted me.” “I just want to get far away from you.”
“That’s not how you felt yesterday when I left you on the beach. You were so awed by my heroics you would have done anything I wanted.” He said this in such an arrogant manner that if my hands weren’t bound, I would have slapped the smile off his cocky-ass face.
Instead I spat at him.
“Damn you!” He jumped back, swearing and lifting his arm angrily.
I cringed, expecting his hand to smash down on me. But he used the back of his palm to wipe his cheek. “That was disgusting and crude. Why are you making everything so difficult? This would have gone so much smoother if you’d fallen in love with me like you did before.” “Before?” I gasped.
“I thought the wild girl behavior was fake and expected that you’d be the same innocent soul that fell in love with Gabe. I brought you here planning to win your heart with gifts, poetry and romance. But you didn’t even recognize my poetry. Then, instead of falling into my arms, you refused to even step on my boat.” He scowled at me, as if it was my fault this kidnapping wasn’t going well and I should apologize for ruining his plans.
Yeah, like that was going to happen. I scowled right back.
“I expected you to be grateful and malleable, not so defiant. Aren’t you afraid of what I’m going to do?” he taunted. “I could take you far out to sea and dump you overboard. Then I would just leave you — like you did with Gabe.” I remained silent, too stubborn to give him the satisfaction of fear.
“No pleading or crying?” He studied me, his eyes under the brim of his hat slanted with curiosity. “Fine. I’m through here. This should hold you while I go up top.” In a swift movement, he ripped off a long strip of duct tape, splitting it with his teeth. He grabbed my legs with his other hand and forced tape around my ankles, so tightly I winced in pain. Then he peered down at me, as if waiting for me to plead with him to let me go. And I might have — except that something more startling caught my attention. I stared at Dyce’s cheek and then his hand, a slow realization dawning.
His cheek where I’d spit had lightened in tone. When he’d rubbed the spot, his tan … it must be tanning spray … had worn off. Looking down, I saw that a bruise near his wrist was simply a patch of pale skin — and it was glowing an ominous gray.
Dyce was a Dark Lifer.
21
I swallowed my gasp, not wanting him to guess what I knew.
Still, I think he suspected something because he folded his arms across his chest and stared at me. I looked away, defiantly ignoring him although I watched from the corner of my eye. After a long, terrifying moment he shook his head, clearly puzzled but unable to figure me out. Then he turned abruptly and climbed up the stairs. When the trap door slammed shut, I sagged back on the bench.
I’d sent the DD Team after the wrong person.
Not Warren.
Dyce.
Small things suddenly made sense — like how I’d felt dizzy whenever Dyce touched me. It wasn’t lust, but a reaction to his dark energy. The tingly feeling had nothing to do with hormones or drugged tea; just being close to him made me weak, probably more than ordinary girls because I wasn’t that different from him.
A temporary soul in someone else’s body.
Did he know? How could he not know? When I met him, I must have been carrying the glowing energy Grammy told me about.
I thought about this but decided no, for whatever reason, he really didn’t know. This wasn’t about me being a Temp Lifer. Dyce’s revenge was personal for Sharayah. He’d waited months to get her alone and vulnerable. He’d admitted to studying her interest in poetry, even her taste in food. But why was he so obsessed with her?
I thought about what I knew about Dark Lifers. They were non-living souls who’d gone on Temp Life missions — but instead of returning to the other side, they hid in unsuspecting bodies. They could borrow a body for a full moon’s cycle unless an injury forced them out sooner. Then they had only minutes to find a new body or they’d glow like a neon sign flashing Hey, DD Team! Come and get me! Most Dark Lifers were newly deceased, inexperienced and hiding out because they were afraid. They usually made mistakes that led to their quick capture.