perhaps two stories high with a large, curving driveway in front of it. Maybe there was even a water fountain, in front of it, but I couldn’t be sure.
I took the sight of the small, golden plaque on one side of the gates.
Eldridge.
Truly, Jason was a walking contradiction.
If that was his name.
I could see the various security cameras, hear the faint, almost inaudible whir of lenses as they tried to focus on the shadow by the gates.
I could press the small button on the intercom.
Or I could simply jump over the gates and let myself in.
You might say I make things unnecessarily difficult, but I prefer to think of it as a game.
The jog up to the actual house took some time; I misjudged the distance from the gate to the house and by the time I made it to the east wing, my pulse had sped and a thin sheen of sweat slicked my forehead.
The shades were drawn tight on the windows of the lower level of the house, and it seemed like the same was true for the second floor, although I thought I saw a faint aura of light on the third window of the upper level.
Only one door was unlocked, a French door at the very edge of the property, almost hidden behind a mass of shrubbery and ivy that seemed intent on taking over the east wing.
It was practically an invitation.
I took it as such.
Besides, the chances of just one entrance being left open…it was no coincidence.
And it was no coincidence he sat in the darkness, waiting for me.
“I thought you’d come.”
It was difficult to reconcile this image of Jason to the first meeting when he seemed like a pathetic skater punk, all ripped jeans and hoodie. His attire changed much, his attitude wholly different.
There was no sense of desperation, no sense of pity I could catch as I closed the door behind me, locking us in darkness that made my pulse beat even faster. “I beg your pardon. I hope I have not kept you waiting.”
He flicked on a lamp by his elbow and while it did bring light into the room, it only shrouded him deeper into the shadows. “Not at all. I was curious as to how you would find me. But of course. The blood. You traced my blood. Just like you said you would. And here I was thinking you’d fed me a load of…crap.”
His voice was different. Fuller. Deeper. Richer. Almost like old velvet drenched in something heavy, like honey.
How much of the boy from before was real?
Or had this all been some sort of act?
His lips twitched. The hoodie was gone, replaced with a plain black button shirt, the collar so stiff, it looked like it could walk on its own. “You’re surprised.”
“I wish I could say this didn’t feel like a trap,” I confessed.
“I can imagine this is not quite what you expected,” he said, waving me to a seat placed across from him. I did not take it, opting to stand instead. Besides, this left the door at my back. “Won’t you sit down?”
I shook my head. “I don’t feel comfortable enough to do so.”
“You’ll make me ashamed,” he said. “Surely, I am a better host than this.”
Such difference.
I did not know this man in front of me.
Did not know his ways.
I knew next to nothing about him and that was worrying in oh-so-many ways. “You lied to me.”
His onyx eyes widened dramatically. “Have I? I thought I was the very soul of honesty. Can you tell me what I lied about?”
“Not words,” I said. "Action. I suppose you could call it a lie by omission. You had no intention of dying last night, did you?”
He stood up, no less dangerous than when he was sitting, but no more. I didn’t trust it, not for one moment. I felt his strength, his speed the night before when I tried to touch his hand. “I have no intention of dying today or tomorrow, if that’s what you’re asking.”
I found his words to be quite disheartening. “Then I’m afraid you are of no use to me. How else am I to infiltrate Noir’s security, if not for your so-called rampage? I need to gain his trust. You remaining alive bars me from doing so.”
He walked around the chair, his fingers trailing the back of the chair, eyes never leaving mine, almost like a challenge. A dare. I dare you to do it. Kill me. It was a bluff,