The smell registered first. A mix of bleach, harsh and sterilizing, and smokey incense, as preferred by Mrs Courten. Before the darkness receded, I already knew where we must be: the Courten house. Specifically, the hallway outside of Atticus's room.
"I can't believe you actually came." I whirled on him. "You-you helped me."
"There's no need to sound so disgusted." Shade tore away his mask to reveal the deep frown beneath, tossing it aside with little regard for where it landed. Atticus, the man and not the specter his mask created, levelled me with a low-lidded gaze. "I didn't have much of a choice."
"You had a choice." I swallowed and looked away. "You could have left me to figure it out for myself. That's what I would have done, if I were you."
"Let me make one thing very clear," his boots solidly padded over across the tile floor, "I am not you, and you can't begin to imagine why I do anything."
"I can hazard a few guesses." I followed after him, watching awkwardly in the doorway to his bedroom as he stuffed various items into the hidden pockets lining the inside of his cloak. Nothing too valuable, and not even all the hard cash I noticed he had handy. I didn't need to ask why he wasn't taking everything. I watched enough crime television to know they'd suspect something if all that suddenly vanished. Perhaps they would even suspect his alternate identity, if they didn't already. "You were after me because I can heal, right? That's what everything has been about since the beginning. I stabbed you, and you noticed that you immediately healed, so you wanted to be able to do that whenever you pleased, isn't that right?"
"You have me all figured out," he said flatly, not openly sarcastic, but with sarcasm implied in his less than impressed tone.
I might have taken the bait had I not been too busy spiraling. I ran a hand through my hair, brushing it away from my face. "What have I done? What the hell is wrong with me?" At that point, I couldn't even rejoice at having retrieved the files I spent weeks looking for. The price hadn't been worth it. "I ruined everything. I never should have snuck up there. It was stupid."
"Obviously."
That was exactly as far as my patience stretched. "Don't be so enthusiastic to confirm how stupid I am, when I caught you sneaking around the Conference Room a few weeks ago!"
"You didn't catch me. You might recall that I caught you, actually."
After taking one last fleeting look around the room for anything he missed, he crossed the distance between us in a few short strides and grasped my arm again. The shadows swelled once more and they never fully receded. They seemed to linger, until I realized Atticus dropped us into pitch darkness, so thick I only barely made out the outline of my hand in front of me. The next smell that assaulted my senses made me long for the bleach scent of before. Mildew and rot and something else my imagination failed to put a name to.
"Where are we?" I wrinkled my nose and squinted, willing my eyes to adjust faster.
"Closed off section of the underground rail system," he replied in short, sounding off. His words coming out strangely slow, as though extreme effort went into forming them. "There's... there's a gas lamp somewhere around here for light."
"Why here?"
I padded around blindly for several breathes, until the outer side of my pinky struck metal, and I fumbled to light the contraption without the luxury of sight. Eventually, a flame struck to life and doused us in a too-feeble glow that was nonetheless blinding.
When no response seemed forthcoming, I raised the lamp up to my face by the handle and turned to face Atticus, finding him collapsed uselessly on his side exactly where I left him.
YOU ARE READING
Super•Villainous
Fantasy"I've been looking for you." There was an unexpected rasp to his voice, a hint of desperation. He stretched out one hand, as if to brush it across my cheek, or perhaps wrap it around my throat. Oddly enough, I didn't know which option frightened me...
