Echoes (Dance with My Demons #2)

30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

Damon

I hear Avery's nervous breathing as we head down the stairwell to the underground rooms.

I haven't told her exactly where we are going or why, but she's followed without complaint.

As we enter the underground corridors, I take a peek at the black camera in the corner, confirming that the red light is turned off.

"Where are we going?" Avery asks quietly, walking beside me.

"We're going to the morgue," I reply bluntly.

Her gaze burns the side of my face, but I ignore her. I don't have time to answer her annoying questions.

While Jillian has deactivated the cameras underground completely for the moment, it's still only a matter of time before the staff realize I'm missing.

Judging by the new guards on duty, Arthur is planning to make a move, and he'll be watching closely. I don't anticipate the guards will be around long. They will either leave, be fired, or they will start working for me, but Arthur's counting on that short window to upstage us.

I would normally send someone else to do a task like this, but after this morning's news, I have everyone assigned with other tasks. Also, if my suspicions are correct, I need to confirm them for myself.

We reach the morgue entrance and Avery pauses beside me, glancing at the doors in thought. I roll my eyes, pushing them open.

It's freezing cold in here, but immediately I notice that the examination table is untouched.

Avery sticks close by, eyes darting around in confusion. "What are we looking for?" she asks.

"Capello," I answer, opening the first mortuary cabinet door. "Help me check the trays."

She hovers awkwardly for a moment before walking to the other end, putting her hand on the handle. I can sense her hesitating, and I'm ready to snap at her to hurry up, but she opens the first door.

Relief filters through her face when she finds it empty, grabbing the next handle. With each empty cabinet, she gets more confident, checking quickly, until the two of us meet in the middle.

"There's no one here," she says perturbed.

"Exactly," I breathe out, starting to feel a little worried.

It's not a usual emotion for me, and it makes me feel a little physically sick.

"If it only happened this morning, wouldn't she be here?" Avery asks.

I nod, pleased that she's able to connect the dots. She's smarter than I gave her credit for. "Yes, she would."

Her eyebrows furrow as she leans against the closed cabinet. "What's going on, Damon?"

"I don't believe Capello killed herself," I tell her, looking over at her slumped figure. "I don't think she's dead at all."

Avery blinks at me, her gray eyes scanning my face curiously. "What do you mean?"

I straighten up, resting my hands in my pockets. "I told you this place has secrets. I think they are about to be cracked wide open."

"I—"

Her next sentence gets cut off by the sound of a door opening and closing down the corridor, footsteps heading in our direction.

That fucking bastard. I knew he'd be onto it quickly.

At least I have the confirmation I needed. We can make a plan now and go from there.

I start to head toward the door to get ready to meet the guards when Avery flies forward, grabbing my arm.

"What are you doing?" she whispers heatedly. "We need to hide."

"There's no point hiding," I scoff. "They know we're down here. It's just a shame we didn't get more time."

Avery's eyes dart to the mortuary cabinet, and I raise an eyebrow, sensing her train of thought.

"I'm not getting inside the damn box, Avery."

Amused, I watch as she runs across the room, opening an adjoining door. Her small gasp nearly makes me laugh as she comes face to face with the storage room, random caskets perched up on racks.

What the fuck did she think would be in there?

I can see her body tensing, trying to come up with a solution.

She turns around, running back to me as the footsteps grow louder. "Come on," she hisses, pulling me with all her strength toward the storage room.

I'm surprised by her power, finally stopping her when we're in the doorway of the storage room.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I ask her.

Her eyes light up, as if she's mastered the greatest plan in the world. "Get into a casket," she says, watching as my eyebrows shoot up. "I'll let them find me. They will think that they have caught whoever is down here and you can keep looking when we are gone."

"That's preposterous. Arthur will know I'm here."

"But they will be distracted by me for a while. It will buy you time."

"Avery," I growl in frustration. "You do realize that if you're caught, they will put you into solitary confinement."

Her face drops slightly, but she just nods solemnly. "I know. But this is important. We need to protect you, especially if shit is going down."

"I don't need protecting."

It's like a lightbulb goes off in her head, lips parting. " You have to protect the king. "

Well, now she's just fucking rambling like a lunatic. I have no idea what she's even going on about. However, we do need more time down here. It might be our only chance.

Begrudgingly, I grab her wrist, pulling her into the storage room and closing the door behind us. "Get into a casket," I order. "Quickly."

"I need to distract them," she argues.

Rolling my eyes, I reach down and open up a mahogany case, pushing her into the box. "Get the fuck in."

Quickly, I switch off the overhead light. I don't have enough time to open another one, and frankly, I need to make sure she stays quiet.

I hear her squeak feebly as I climb into the casket with her, closing the lid as she rolls onto her side to make space for me.

"What are you doing?" she whispers.

"Shut up," I growl back quietly, listening for sounds.

Outside the storage room, footsteps echo around the acoustic sounding morgue. My chest is pushed against Avery's, the feel of her rapidly beating heart vibrating through her shirt.

The door next to our casket creaks open, the sound of the light switch flicking on as someone looks around the room. Avery holds her breath, laying completely still. It's then I realize she's holding onto my shirt, the thin material bunched in her tiny fists.

The light switches off again, the door closing with a click. I strain my ears, following the trail of footsteps as they pace the morgue.

Eventually, they leave, fading off into the corridor.

Avery lets out a sigh of relief, her breath shaking. "What do we do now?" she whispers so quietly that it's barely audible.

"We wait for a bit," I mutter. "It should take them about fifteen minutes at most to check this side of the facility."

"Okay…"

The two of us lay in silence, her heart slowing down as the minutes tick by.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, I reach up, grabbing her wrists. "Can you let go of my shirt?"

"Shit, sorry," she says embarrassed, unclenching her fists.

The casket is tight, and a funny feeling passes through me when her fingers brush against my chest. I feel her struggle, trying to make room, but with the little space we have in here, her hands have nowhere to go.

"Just rest them," I snap at her under my breath when she tries to hold them upright between us.

"Right, sorry."

Avery places her palms flat against my chest, surprising me. "I didn't mean on me."

"Well, I don't know what you want then!"

"Shut up," I hiss at her, covering her mouth with my hand. "You are the worst hider ever. They have to walk back down this way to get to the stairwell. Do you want them to find us or not?"

She mumbles sorry against my hand. I let out a sigh, removing it and resting it above her head.

More minutes tick by, her squirming body rubbing against me. I'm on the verge of snapping at her again, when she brushes against my dick.

"Avery," I growl. "Stop moving."

"My back is cramping up," she mutters. "It's an old injury. The scar tissue just hurts now and then. It's okay—we should be able to leave shortly."

"Oh, for fuck sake."

Wrapping an arm around her back, I move us both, laying her flat on the bottom of the casket. Holding myself above her, I put my weight on my forearms and knees, allowing her to stretch out.

"You don't have to do that," she says softly.

"I'm aware," I retort back. "But Grey won't let me hear the end of it if I don't return you in one piece."

Avery laughs quietly to herself. "I think you'd be fine. He cares about you more than anyone else in the world."

I squint through the dark, trying to find her face. "You're infuriating. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I do. But I can't help it. It's just a wonderful personality trait at this point."

"You have a death wish," I point out. "That infuriating attitude nearly got you killed."

"By you?" Avery asks thoughtfully. "Surprised you haven't yet, to be honest."

Letting out a small scoff, I keep my hands on either side of her head as I balance. "You're not in the clear yet."

"I thought you were going to kill me the day I slapped you," she admits.

I smile to myself. I was very tempted to kill her that day. But at the same time, I was amused that someone had the balls to hit me.

"Like I said, it's still a possibility," I tell her. "I did tell you I'd nail your casket shut. I already have the casket here."

Avery laughs softly. "You're not so bad, Damon. Still a demon… but you're not the person I thought you were."

"I'm exactly who you thought," I point out.

"No," she disagrees. "You're not. I'm sorry for being such a pain in your ass."

Dropping to one of my forearms, I reposition myself. "Don't get all touchy-feeling on me. I don't do emotions."

She shuffles, making room for my arm. "I don't blame you. Emotions lead to trouble. I wish I could turn mine off."

Her words cause me to freeze, disturbing something in me. She repeated what I always say—but coming from her, it's… weird.

I can't imagine Avery not having emotions. Sure, she needs a handle on them. But there's something about hers that always surprises me.

They make her… Avery.

Grey was right. She's got everything bottled up, and once she gets a grip on them, they will unleash, destroying everything in their path. But I'm starting to realize it's not in a negative way.

She's everything I hate—annoying, unpredictable, overly trusting. But also caring, thoughtful, receptive. Most people here respect me out of fear. They are loyal to reap the benefits.

Not her though.

While I had forced her to stay on task, she did it because she wanted to.

Even now, she opted to try to protect me— without me asking for it. Not that I would ever ask someone to protect me— I am more than capable of protecting myself. But she wanted to do it for no reason other than she wanted to.

Peculiar feelings stir inside me, making me shift uncomfortably. Avery notices, grabbing my forearm gently.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I snap back.

I wait for her to recoil, but she doesn't. "Are you sure?" she asks concerned. "Here, let me move."

She goes to move her body but I grab her waist to keep her put. "I said I'm fine."

"Don't be ridiculous," she scolds. "It's not comfortable in that position. My back feels better now. Lie down."

"Back off, Avery."

She pulls my arm, trying to tug me toward the floor of the casket. "God damnit, Damon. Stop being a stubborn ass—"

I don't know what possesses me to do it. I don't even think about it in advance.

Her arguing, her defiance, her caring, the way she grabs my arm—it snaps something inside of me.

And before I can stop myself or realize it's happening, I do the unthinkable.

I kiss her.