Some of uswere walking around a little more disturbed than the person beside them, and I couldn’t help but wonder what made Silas break.
ChapterTwo
Elijah
I moved downthe sidewalk at a rapid pace, dipping in and out of alleys with quiet precision. The pavement beneath my boots was cracked—the buildings that surrounded me covered in graffiti. Silence caged me but there was an electricity about it—a sort of whisper that told me even though I hadn’t detected any signs of life, I wasn’t entirely alone.
Shoulders hunched forward, I shoved my hands into the front pockets of my jeans, my ears open and eyes peeled as I slipped in and out of the shadows. The sky above my head was without stars, but the moon was full and it cast a glow over the depleted warehouses and abandoned apartment buildings.
Memorize it.
Burn it.
Triple check you aren’t followed.
I’d waited until nightfall to visit him, and I dressed as though I was one of those shadows, covered head to toe in black. The hood of my sweatshirt camouflaged my blond hair. If there were any souls on this street tonight, and they happened to spot me, they’d never know who I was or the purpose of my visit.
Hours ago, I’d watched as small flames licked across the edges of that scrap of paper, burning away his address. One by one, the letters disappeared, and any evidence of our impending partnership could only be found inside my mind—and it’d remain there forever.
I had an eidetic memory, though I didn’t need to rely on it to remember the address I was given. The moment my eyes made contact with what was in that folder, I knew exactly where to go.
Devil’s Thumb.
It was mostly dissipated—a forgotten town filled with forgotten souls. Two decades ago, this side of Seattle had the highest crime rate the state of Washington had ever seen. The locals gave it its nickname after a war between gangs left it deserted.
The buildings I walked past were quiet, but I knew they were occupied by junkies and homeless teens. I’d heard whispers that the mayor was looking for investors to bulldoze this place down and build something new.
At first, I was surprised Silas lived here, but then I thought better of it. If anonymity was what he sought, there was no place better to hide than next to the devil.
I kept my steps light, avoiding discarded beer bottles and empty cigarette cartons as I approached his building. Moving in a slow circle, my eyes tracked my surroundings carefully, lingering on any suspicious shadows. Nothing but silence and solitude greeted me, and I took a second to study the building.
In its prime, it was a lush sky rise, housing corporate offices and the home base of a local newspaper. Now, the building looked just as lonely as the rest of the town. Several of the windows were boarded up, and some were even missing. The paint was faded and there was a crack in the glass door, splitting my reflection in two as I reached for the handle.
The steel was cold beneath my palm, my knuckles cracking as I tightened my grip. When I tugged the door open to slip inside, it squealed with my efforts. The lobby was empty without an old desk, and the sound of the door latching echoed off the desolate walls. Ignoring the elevator, I took a direct route to the stairwell, noting the door to its entrance was missing.
Chin lifted, I looked up. There were fifteen flights between me and Silas, and I wondered why the fuck he climbed these every day.
With a quick breath, and a pop to my neck, I took off, climbing them two at a time. Sweat pooled at the nape of my neck, saturating the hairs in the base of my short ponytail. I didn’t bother to remove my hood, nor did I slow down. I did shit like this all the time when I was enlisted, except then I had a thirty-pound backpack strapped over my shoulders and a long-range rifle cradled against my chest.
When I reached the top, I took a moment to catch my breath and used the heel of my boot to knock open the stairwell door. Cold air blasted me the moment I stepped out into the hallway andthank fuckthis kid had air conditioning.
There was only one door on this floor—an oversized industrial thing that looked bullet proof and military grade. There was a keypad next to the handle, and though I couldn’t be certain, I had to imagine there was a camera pointed at me.
Lifting my fist, I was just about to knock when the heavy sound of locks disengaging filled the damp hallway. The door slid open, and for a moment there wasn’t anybody on the other side.
Then suddenly he was there, standing in the sliver of space he’d created for himself, disguised by lack of light and a mop of uncombed hair. It was pitch black, and when he swept those unruly locks off his forehead, I noticed his fingernails were black too.
“You must be Silas.”
He nodded once, but his chin stayed downward, his gaze pointed at the cement floor and his cotton-covered feet. The socks he wore were tie-dye, and they were tall enough to reach the bottoms of his kneecaps. A sound left him, and I noticed the way he balled the fabric of his sleeves in his fists.
His shoulders were hunched forward, concealed by a knit shirt that had to be two sizes too big for the slim figure he seemed to have. The frayed edge of it brushed the pale skin of his thighs, and whether he was wearing shorts underneath remained a mystery.
After several moments, he still hadn’t said anything, but his chest seemed to heave more, his breaths becoming louder. I remembered what Ben said about how much Silas valued privacy, and I wondered if it was apprehension that I was witnessing.
Anxiety.
Doubt.