Dark Journey Read Free Page A

know where the words came from—they were instinctive.
    "Where did you meet?" he demanded, pompous as ever. "Laura hasn't left this mountain since she was a teenager."
    Alex glanced at her. She didn't know how she was certain, since he still wore those mirrored sunglasses that shielded his narrow, elegantly-boned face, but she felt as if she could read the expression in the eyes she'd never seen. "I've known her for years," he said easily.
    For a bald-faced lie, it had the curious ring of truth. She didn't deny it, simply sat back, sipping at her cognac, for once comfortable among her battling siblings.
    "Odd that she never mentioned you," Jeremy said, and the undercurrent of suspicion was obvious. "Excuse me for being rude, but why are you wearing sunglasses? It's nighttime, and the house is far from brightly lit."
    "My eyes are very sensitive," he said. "I'm sorry if it bothers you."
    "Ignore my husband, Alex," Cynthia said, in her most charming voice. "He has the manners of a lout, and he's very possessive of his little sister. You'll be staying, won't you?"
    For a moment, the world seemed to stop. Laura sat there, bathed in the heat of the fire, her family surrounding her, and yet she felt distant, apart, watching. Waiting for what Alex would say.
    It mattered. She wasn't sure why, but it mattered terribly that he should stay. A matter of life and death, she thought oddly.
    Please,
she begged silently.
    The moment passed, the voices returned, and Laura's damaged heart started beating again. "I will stay," Alex said.
    And suddenly Laura knew that life had just changed, shifted, irrevocably. There would be no going back, and she wasn't certain whether she was frightened or glad.
    Perhaps a little bit of both.
    She stole a glance at the man sitting next to her. He was like no one she had ever seen, and yet he seemed so familiar, a part of her in some way she couldn't define.
    It no longer mattered. The die was cast. He would stay. And life would change, forever.

CHAPTER TWO

    H e was afraid to touch her, he who wasn't afraid of anything. She sat close enough to him on that overstuffed sofa that he could smell the trace of her perfume, the scent of cognac on her mouth. It had been so long since he'd tasted brandy, tasted another mouth. He wanted to so badly he thought he might die of it.
    He kept his sour amusement to himself. He knew better than anyone that one didn't die of lust, of longing, of loneliness. The acknowledged causes of death were far more pragmatic. But the real cause of death was that he chose to take someone.
    Lightning crackled outside the thick pine walls of the house, and everyone jumped. Everyone but Alex. They were uneasy, this group of assorted siblings, and his presence wasn't making things any more comfortable. He considered leaving. But then, if he was to go, he would take Laura with him, the old man, as well, and the assembled Fitzpatricks would be a great deal unhappier.
    "Did you see the news tonight?" Jeremy said, trying to inject a note of normalcy into the evening. He was a pleasant-looking, undistinguished middle-aged man who probably had a long life ahead of him. There was nothing the slightest bit remarkable about him, apart from his air of self-importance, and Alex barely paid attention to him. "Someone jumped off the Empire State Building."
    "Why is that so remarkable?" Cynthia demanded in a captious voice. "People have been committing suicide since the dawn of mankind."
    "But that's what makes it so interesting. The man who jumped didn't die. He fell God knows how many flights, and he didn't die." Jeremy took another swallow of his whiskey.
    "Don't tell me he got up, brushed himself off and walked away?" Ricky demanded, his voice both belligerent and slurred.
    "No. He broke every bone in his body. His internal organs were smashed to pieces. But he's not dead."
    Silence reigned for a moment. "You choose the most morbid topics of conversation, Jeremy," Cynthia finally remarked. "Could we