Darkness Brutal (The Dark Cycle Book 1) by Rachel A. Marks Page B

follow him.
    Kara’s standing in a tiny alcove patio, which is really just a slab of concrete decorated with a cracked pot spilling over with wilted pansies. She’s got her back to me, facing a blond woman, and they’re passing a cigarette back and forth like they’ve bonded already. The orange tip glows in the dark.
    The blond woman looks like she’s in her midthirties, but as I get closer, something tells me she’s more like midtwenties. Her hair is dull and brittle, her skin is leathery, and her shadowed eyes are full of confusion, like she’s not sure how she got here.
    Kara spots Connor and me. She takes one last drag from the cigarette and grinds it into the pot of drooping pansies.
    Connor and Kara trade looks, and I can see the silent conversation in their faces:
    Seriously, Kara?
    Lay off, Connor .
    Connor nods to the blond woman. “Miss Reese, thank you for being so flexible with the schedule. We’ll try to make this session simpler than when we did the day shoot. We just need to get a few more questions on film and do our dead circle so Kara can be sure about her reading before giving it to you. Mr. Siddhapati will be here in the next ten minutes or so, and he can finish off the interview with you as soon as you’re ready.” He motions to me. “This is our new trainee. Is it okay if he follows Kara on her walk-through?”
    Miss Reese barely looks at me. “Sure, whatever. Will it cost me more?” She gives a weak—but still somehow flirtatious—smile to the crew behind me.
    “No,” Connor says. “The price Mr. Siddhapati quoted you is what it’ll be. Not a penny more.”
    She nods and pulls out another cigarette with shaky fingers. “I need sleep.”
    Connor gives her an understanding look. “We’ll try to finish this up tonight and get you the peace you need, Miss Reese.”
    “Or your money back,” comes from behind us. Sid’s voice. He waves to the camera crew, and they scramble across the now perfectly lit courtyard to obey. They place the cameras firmly on their shoulders, and one guy follows Sid with a boom mic raised high overhead.
    “Ah, Miranda,” Sid says, “you poor thing. You didn’t get any sleep again last night?” He takes Miss Reese’s fingers in his, and her face loses its tension immediately. “I’m so sorry,” he says as he pats her hand. “We’ll fix this mess up by the morning, I promise.”
    Tears fill her eyes, and she nods again.
    He pulls her in for a fatherly hug. “You’ll be fine.” Then he motions at the camera crew, and they lower their aim.
    Watching him is fascinating. His words and actions feel so close to the truth that I almost buy his sincerity. Stunning.
    I try and get a better bead on him, his soul, away from the muted fog of the house, but Connor taps my arm and motions for me to follow Kara as she slips away.
    So I turn from my curiosity and comply, figuring there’ll be plenty of time for reading Sid. I follow Kara to the door of the downstairs apartment on the end. The smell of dryer sheets fills the air; it mingles with stale cigarette smoke and mildew as she reaches for the doorknob.
    A buzz of lingering violence reaches my skin. I really don’t want to feel this. I hate knowing people’s business, especially the dark kind—which is all I ever seem to see lately.
    Kara stops before she opens the door. She glances behind me, maybe checking to see if we’re alone, and then she says, “Just so we’re clear: I don’t like you.”
    There’s a fierce look in her eyes.
    “I mean I really don’t like you.”
    “You mentioned that.”
    “But we have to work together. So I’ll suck it up. But you should know where you stand.”
    Her hostility is taking me off guard. I’m fairly certain she’s not the kind of girl you want on your bad side.
    I raise my hands in surrender. “I’m reading you. Loud and clear. For some mysterious reason, you now hate me.” Even though I’m pretty sure it has something to do with Ava. Kara’s