Face the Dark (Hunters of the Dark #3) Page 5

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  “Do we know anything about him yet?” Shanna asked a few hours later. They were in a two story house in suburban New Jersey. The guy had been treated and cleaned up and now sat in the living room on a sofa, staring at nothing.

  Felicia glanced at her from the doorway where they observed him quietly. “His name’s Quentin Lightheart.”

  Shanna blinked. “You picked up something from him?”

  “His wallet,” Felicia said sheepishly. “They found his clothes with a bunch of the other victims’. He’s from New Jersey, a quiet suburb like this one.”

  “His parents?”

  “They were the older couple on the table.”

  Shanna nodded to herself. “I figured as much.”

  Felicia sighed. “Shanna, are you sure you should be here? Because it might not be a good idea.”

  “It is,” Shanna insisted, meeting her sympathetic look with a little annoyance. “I can help him. I owe it to him to be here.”

  “Okay,” Felicia said, backing down.

  Shanna stared at Quentin, taking in his damp hair, his strong shoulders and arms. He looked like a normal teenager, probably eighteen like herself. If it hadn’t been for the events of that warehouse, he would probably be a well-adjusted guy, preparing for college, maybe playing football with his friends. Anything not having to do with monsters. The types of things she herself may have been inclined to do.

  “He cleans up nice,” Felicia noted.

  “Yeah, he does,” Shanna concurred. She perked up as the two scholars with them entered the room and sat down across from him. They set a tape recorder down on the table between them, the young female scholar looking in their direction expectantly.

  Felicia nodded and guided Shanna to the seat just to Quentin’s right, before settling into a chair next to her.

  “Alright, let’s begin,” the female scholar began. “Quentin? Do you remember anything that happened to you, Quentin?”

  They all watched Quentin, waiting for some form of response, but he just sat there, staring past them. The scholars exchanged a look.

  “Your parents were there,” Felicia said, breaking the silence. “They…” She closed her eyes, her head jerking slightly. “You were brought there first. They brought them in…to make you watch.” she gasped, doubling over.

  Shanna looked down at Quentin’s hand and saw it shaking. She glanced up at his eyes, brimming with tears and interlaced her fingers through his.

  “They’re dead,” he said softly. His grip on Shanna’s hand increased. “They’re dead because of me.”

  “No, no, Quentin,” Shanna told him. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “If they didn’t want me, they wouldn’t have brought my parents in.”

  “Why did they want you, Quentin?” the male scholar asked.

  Quentin looked down at Shanna’s hand in his, then up at her. “I was nice to her. She didn’t like that. She followed me, then took me away from my home. Then tore apart everything I cared about. Right in front of me.” Shanna watched his adam’s apple bob up and down in his throat. She was afraid that if she met his gaze, she would begin crying for what he’d been through.

  “They were monsters. Real monsters,” he whispered.

  “You remember then?” Felicia prodded.

  “I remember everything,” he said. He reached up and touched Shanna’s face, forcing her to look him in the face. “I want to fight back. Let me fight back.”

  Shanna glanced over at Felicia, hesitating, then met his eyes, seeing herself reflected in them. “I promise.”