The Light Within (Shadow and Light Duology #2)

24. Elliot

twenty-four

Elliot

T hat guy was stalking Elliot again.

That one from the other day—tall, dark skin, velvety black hair. About as stealthy as a neon sign.

Today, he was once again demonstrating a spectacularly poor job of being covert.

Now, to be fair, Elliot had never trailed anyone himself. But he was fairly sure you weren’t meant to stand out in plain view, leaning against one of the stone columns that housed lumenmotes in its glass tip, looking like you were waiting for a bus.

To give some credit, the dude was at least pretending to study a crumpled newspaper, but his eyes kept flicking periodically towards Elliot, as if he was trying to memorise his every move while maintaining a facade of casual disinterest.

Right then. That’s enough of this shit.

Changing paths, Elliot walked right past the column, the very picture of nonchalance. Then, at the last second, he turned, ready to slam his arm against the guy’s neck.

The man stepped to the side, a fluid, swift motion that hinted at him having expected the move.

Elliot gritted his teeth, a frustrated growl escaping him. He reached out, but the guy effortlessly slid backwards. Then he shot Elliot a brief, amused glance before twisting around quickly to sprint down the narrow, winding passageway behind the Lunarium Observatory .

Elliot didn’t hesitate.

He plunged into the chase with quick determined strides, his footsteps echoing off the ancient brickwork and worn pavement.

The man ahead of him darted with an agile grace, weaving through narrow alleys and courtyards. His dark coat flared behind him like a cape, his black hair a wild streak against the pale stone walls. Although, he’d soon be no match for Elliot—his own movements were a blur of practised efficiency, each calculated to close the gap. He leaped over a low wall and vaulted onto a narrow ledge, propelling himself into the next alley with precision honed from years of athletic training.

The narrow passageways twisted and turned like a maze, forcing Elliot to navigate sharp corners and sudden drops with barely a moment’s notice. His lungs burned as he pushed himself faster, his legs pumping rhythmically over the uneven stone pavement.

The chase spilled into an open courtyard, its flagstone floor lit by the soft glow of street lamps. Several walkers gave a sharp gasp at the sight of them. The stalker skidded around a fountain, water spraying up in an arc.

Elliot saw his chance. A sudden burst of speed saw him leaping over the fountain’s edge, landing lightly on the other side and forcing the man to veer off his course.

He darted out of Elliot’s grasp, Elliot’s fingers closing to make a sad fist, as the fountain splattered him in icy water.

The chase continued, taking them zooming over one of the many temporary metal bridges across the giant crack, then past the Aurelia Library, the guy weaving in between the columns of the portico like he was performing some elaborate dance for Elliot’s entertainment.

This fucker is fast. Stupidly fast.

But he was tiring, at least—the man’s ragged breaths fuelled Elliot’s relentless determination, each laboured inhale pushing him to close the distance .

They’d travelled some distance—they were at the far edge of Auri now, with few light sources to illuminate the early evening’s darkness. In front of them lay Sylvan Glade, the small garden where the Verdant Conservatory grew some species of plants. Its sizeable pond boasted a grand bridge with high stone railings, and the man’s strides became uneven as he stumbled onto it.

Come on, Elliot urged himself. Get him.

They neared the end of the bridge. If the man cleared it, he could easily lose Elliot in the thick foliage. Elliot lunged forward with a burst of final, powerful energy. He grabbed the guy by the collar, hard, spinning him around.

The panting man staggered, partially slumping against the stone railing.

Yes!

Elliot wouldn’t have lasted much longer at that pace.

Locking the guy in place with an arm against his chest, Elliot had to tilt his head up slightly to address him. Though the man was slightly taller, Elliot could easily overpower his thin, lithe build now that he had him pinned. He was sure of it.

Elliot allowed himself a few breaths. “ You !”

It seemed as good a start as any.

Elliot appraised the flustered figure in front of him, pushing him firmly into the stone while he hooked a leg around his, lest he get any clever ideas.

Sweat dripped from his captive’s forehead. His deep brown eyes were set beneath a strong brow, framed by high cheekbones and a sharp jawline. His dark complexion was complemented by full, expressive lips, which he licked.

Breath coming in ragged gasps still, he took a moment to say, “Elliot. You caught me. ”

“Damn right I did,” snarled Elliot, giving him another push for good measure. He didn’t like the way he’d said his name—like he had power over him.

The guy had the audacity to smile.

“You won’t be smiling in a minute.”

He was unable to take his eyes off the other man’s face. His lips in particular.

That smile. It’s familiar.

“What’s your name?”

“Malik,” said the man, with a calm confidence that didn’t belong to someone currently being held prisoner.

Malik…

Nope . It didn’t ring any bells.

“What’s that accent?”

“I grew up out on the West Coast, moved to New York for the hub there a few years back. Then a few months ago, I guess adventure came knocking.”

Elliot rarely got homesick for the States, but the tiniest pang shot through him now. The shit Swiss January weather was likely to blame.

“West Coast? Oregon?” Where Elliot himself was from?

“Nah, California.”

Why was Elliot making idle chit-chat with this dude? He shook his head, then looked Malik squarely in the eye. Fellow American or not, the guy was trouble. “You’ve been watching me. Watching us .”

“Yeah. Sorry about that.” Malik didn’t look sorry. Didn’t look sorry at all.

The strange man wasn’t struggling against Elliot’s hold on him. Rather, he seemed almost relaxed, as if this confrontation was more of an inconvenience than a threat. A faint smirk played on his lips, and his eyes glinted with amusement. This wasn’t how Elliot imagined this would go at all. Unease crept up his spine, and he loosened his grip, just slightly .

“Guess the game’s up, huh? Took long enough. You four were all over the place. But hey, it wasn’t a bad gig. Definitely helped having some eye candy around.”

Elliot scoffed. This guy. “I’ll be sure to pass along your compliments.” He’d meant it sarcastically, but thinking about it, it probably would tickle Julien’s ego. More than a bit.

“What?” Malik blinked, then snorted. “Oh, them? Hell no. Julien Montaigne acts like he’s got a stick up his ass, and his boyfriend dresses like a hobo. Not my type. I’m more into uniforms.” Malik raked his eyes up and down Elliot’s gendarmerie’s attire. Then winked.

It took an embarrassingly long time for Elliot to realise the guy was attempting to flirt with him.

Likely, he was trying to flirt his way out of Elliot deciding to punch him in the face, but hey, he’d take it. It had been a while.

“But speaking of which—I gotta know—does Cinnamon Saunders own five identical grey hoodies, or does he just never do laundry? These are the real questions that came out of my investigation. Though, Madame Sinclair didn’t exactly share my enthusiasm. She actually kicked me off the job.”

Elliot schooled his expression. Just what was this guy playing at, revealing so casually that it was Eleanor who was having them tailed? If he was attempting to earn Elliot’s trust, he was failing.

“Really?” Elliot eyed Malik carefully. “Probably a good thing, since you were too busy checking us out to bother hiding yourself properly.”

“Well, after months of it, I just couldn’t be bothered any more, honestly.”

“ Months ?”

The word left Elliot’s mouth hanging loose. No way. It was impossible that this idiot had gone undetected for months .

Nodding, Malik smirked, one corner of his lip twitching up. “My favorite part of your adventures? Watching you three haul those unconscious bodies out of that sketchy warehouse in London.”

Time stilled as Elliot tensed. So long had passed since he’d helped take down the maggot of a crime boss who had made Cinn’s life hell, he’d long since stopped worrying that it might come back to bite him.

“Eleanor… knows about that?”

“Of course she does. It was all in my report. Great stuff, really. Though Eleanor seemed pretty uninterested in my section about your order at the fish and chip shop…”

Malik babbled on, but Elliot tuned him out, mind spinning. How did Elliot still have his job? Why hadn’t Eleanor informed Salvatore Gallo that one of his gendarmes had been gallivanting around London unchecked, taking down gangsters and reducing their minds to mush?

“I… don’t understand,” was all Elliot could say. He dropped his grip on Malik, who shifted away from him, straightening his coat.

Malik ran a hand through his shaggy dark hair. “Ah, got it. So we’re finally getting to the part where I let you catch me this evening.”

“ Allowed ? Come on. You were running pretty fast from where I was standing.”

“The chase is a part of the fun, don’t you think?” Malik gave a low laugh.

Elliot moved away from him, folding his arms. He assessed the man again. “I feel like I’ve met you, but I can’t put my finger on it,” he admitted.

“Yeah?” Malik openly grinned at him now, winding Elliot up further. “That’s probably because I called it quits on this little game a while back—at that New Year’s party.” Malik nodded in the vague direction of the Curio Café.

Oh.

Oh, no.

Fuck, no.

Elliot was powerless to repress the look of horror undoubtedly blooming across his face.

“I tried to talk to you, remember?” Malik didn’t hide the mischievous sparkle in his eyes. “But you were at least ten shots deep, so I can’t blame you if you don’t recall.”

A horrible, distorted memory tormented Elliot as deep-rooted mortification rolled over him in waves.

“I… Didn’t I… Were you the one…” Elliot couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“Yes, that’s right. You came up to me at closing time and rather crudely propositioned me.” Malik pressed a hand against his heart, feigning shock. “I was blushing like a fair maiden. Then you ruined the moment by hurling all over my best shoes.”

That’s why his smile looked so familiar. He’s hot-guy-in-the-tuxedo.

A blurry image of himself pawing at the guy’s waist assaulted him. Oh, what Elliot would do for the ground to swallow him whole right about now. “You’d been staring at me all evening!” was his only defence.

“I was patiently waiting for you to stamp my dance card. Unfortunately, you didn’t even notice me until you were completely hammered.”

Elliot needed to redirect this conversation before it went off the rails. “Let’s rewind so I can get this straight. Madame Sinclair had you tailing us, but you’ve decided to… what, switch sides?”

“Not exactly. But I’ve gotta admit, for a group that spends most of their time throwing insults at each other, you’re surprisingly tight-knit. It made me feel lonely. Got me thinking I’d have way more fun on the inside.”

“What do you mean, not quite ? Look, dude, just tell me what’s going on here.”

Malik started moving backwards. “Look out for a message tomorrow.”

“What?” Elliot snapped. “No, hold on. What do you mean?”

“If I say any more, I’m definitely gonna get lynched this time. But trust me, this will be easier. Just believe me, Elliot.”

There he went again, wielding Elliot’s name like he owned it. Elliot ground his jaw. He trusted this twat as much as he trusted a rattlesnake in his boot.

With one final, calculated smile, Malik turned and took off into the night.

Allowing himself to unleash a loud, frustrated sigh that filled the quiet garden, Elliot stared at the space where Malik had been moments ago. Elliot could chase him again, but he had a feeling he wouldn’t catch him this time.

He also had a feeling he’d be seeing him again soon.

He hated how he didn’t completely hate the idea.