Darkly - Episode #8

FBI's Dark Forces Division

Want to start at the beginning? You can find the 1st episode and all episodes HERE.

Quick recap: Kinley Scott feels tricked. She’s stumbled into an off-books FBI job that has to be part of the Dark Forces Division, but no one’s suppose to know about that. She does and it’s either a fluke that they recruited her or they know more about her skills than anyone should know.

Now… onto Darkly Episode #8.

“You lied.”

It took three hours before I made the accusation. I’d caught Gil and Alec in the breakroom and decided they’d been testing me. I spoke up because it would look even more suspicious if I said nothing.

Pulse racing, I thought through my body language. Certain reactions were expected—to appear clueless—regarding what had happened in the cellblock. My natural ones would be far off the mark. I’d seen things.

“We have leftovers,” Gil said, completely ignoring my complaint.

Alec paused, twirling a fork in spaghetti. “Team B has a former chef. Their leftovers are delicious, even if they are a bunch of moody A-holes.”

Gil agreed, happily digging into steaming bolognese.

Another test. Avoidance. Easy to recognize since I’d done the same thing. Right after the unseen hands strangled me in the holding cell, I made a joke about static electricity and overreacting. Alec had laughed but offered no explanation.

Oh, he’d told Gil. They shared a look right in front of me. Right. In. Front. I wondered how long it took them to check the footage. There had to be a recording. Not that it would be shared. Strange things were more need-to-know, but they knew… especially if Ward Six was part of the FBI’s Dark Forces Division.

“You lied to me,” I repeated.

“How did I lie?” Gil’s neutral expression hit me hard.

Damn his twisted luck. How had he trapped me? Me! Of all people? I wasn’t even a statistic on a government chart. Maybe that had changed because somehow he’d vetted me to work at Ward Six. His first offer came minutes after I’d spilled my coffee.

Honestly, the speed helped to mask the truth. A facility this elite should require an FBI panel of senior agents and a month of picking through every minute of a candidate’s life. He’d met me, rolled with the Omega Task Force, stepped in to save me from Wilkes’s wrath, and planted me smack dab in the middle of Ward Six.

Savage, if he knew about me. He didn’t. He couldn’t. Something else made him decide.

Alec glanced between us, clearly spotting a standoff. “It’s just how it’s done, Kinley. Don’t make it personal.”

I’d read about secret societies—not that the FBI fit the mold, although maybe it did—and many let in newcomers by degrees. They tested, waited for a response, and then revealed their secrets. Supposedly, it was the best way to know if someone would keep the secret or freak out.

“How did I make the cut?”

Gil shrugged. Clearly, I was still an outsider. He wasn’t going to share much, not yet. “What do you think it takes to be part of Ward Six?”

“All I know is what I’ve seen.” I joined them at the table but did not sit. “The clinic has a… can’t believe I’m going to say this… force field, and that cell has a… presence.”

I raised my hands like I’d just uttered the craziest shit, licked my lips, and let out an unsteady breath. Now was not the time to play it cool. I needed to sweat over the facts, especially something most civilians left unnamed, even though I could name it. Heck, I could probably give a full-blown lecture about the purpose of Ward Six.

The Gray Scale.

Ward Six had to be about finding people on the Gray—a slang term. That had to be what the building’s force field scanned for, but what it did with the information was a mystery. After all, it let me inside.

No one talked about the Gray without a little fear. It provoked ridicule, teasing, and relentless speculation. Publicly, no one believed in the Unseen. Well, no one who wanted a job, friends or freedom.

“Where do you fall on the Gray?” Gil asked, never breaking eye contact.

“I don’t know,” I lied, leaning into my training. Not FBI training. Childhood training. “That’s not my life. Unless it is now. I won’t ignore what I know is true, and until today, I didn’t know. But you did. Bringing me here… you omitted that part.”

“You can leave,” Gil said, and the offer rang true, although I knew it wasn’t.

The last thing I could do was leave. It would be the biggest admission that I was on the Gray and should be followed, contained, and eventually eliminated.

The intensity of Gil’s stare was too much. With a sinking feeling, I realized he could see something in me; that’s how I’d been vetted. Gil had that ability. Exactly how it worked? I could only guess. I’d never meet that skill. But if Gil was on the Scale, it had to mean Ward Six only hired the Unseen. Perhaps, ones that didn’t know? Ones that could be molded?

Panic spiked in the vicinity of my heart, and if Gil saw it… he must, right? But how much did he sense? Maybe just enough for a new recruit, but not enough to lock ‘em up in a cell.

“Don’t leave!” Alec quickly interjected. “We need you, and you’ve been pulled behind the Gray Curtain, so to speak. You’ve gotta be curious.” Clearly, the role of Good Cop would be played by Alec for the foreseeable future. If I had one.

He smiled, and after seeing the same awkward twist of his lips several times today, I labeled it as a well-crafted facade. A sneer would have been more genuine.

“This is bullshit,” I told them. “It’s time to read me in. I want to know what I’ve gotten myself into because I’m not going anywhere.”

Gil and Alec shared a look. Similar to the one I’d witnessed earlier but with a hint of satisfaction. They’d had a hunch about me.

I had a hunch, too… Gil had to be a telepath. Rare to be one and know it. Telepaths were usually executives, forward thinkers who sensed trends. Like most abilities on the Gray Scale, the world associated them in ordinary ways. A star athlete put in hours of training. A singer was born with an angelic voice. A doctor had an expensive education. Any kind of skill was earned or a heaven-sent gift. They were results born of dedication or luck, not magic.

Everyone failed to understand that magic was natural, and time dedicated to a magical skill only made it stronger. Such knowledge had been lost, though, long ago. The truth had disappeared into whispers in the wind.

Until A.I. swept through every facet of human life. It triggered something opposite of technology. A pushback from the Unseen… and while the bright side of magic hunkered down and hid, the dark side rose.

What side was I on? Time would tell because I had no idea.

The rest of our shift felt like a viper wound up tight, ready to strike. One false move… I’d be exposed. Not ideal for work productivity, but Alec said we were in a lull, which meant they didn’t really have to explain anything to me just yet.

All I could be sure about was that they knew I was on the Gray Scale, and that’s what got me the job. I just needed to pretend that I hadn’t known.

“Don’t worry,” Alec had promised. “You’ll find out more when we have our next guest.”

I waited. And waited.

It took seventeen days.

Perhaps Wards One through Five were more busy, but Ward Six didn’t experience a steady flow of customers. The delay gave me plenty of time to worry.

I kept my head down, organized my computer—a fancy brand new model—and tried to act normal. At the designated time, the teams swapped, and we had four days off at the townhouse.

On that first rotation, I expected Gil or Alec to explain a little more about Ward Six, but Alec took off and Gil watched sports. It became our new normal. Clearly, I was in for a slow burn, when it came to getting any dirt on Ward Six.

You’d think that would have made me relax. It didn’t.

I felt even more exposed, and knowing the FBI like I did, it meant they were watching. It had to be the most dangerous time of my career. They’d set me up with just enough information to crash and burn. In fact, they were probably counting on it. Most candidates tended to fail at this stage. I vowed not to be another one. Not to make one false move, which took my anxiety to an unhealthy level.

Worst of all, I needed to send a message.

Granted, I’d cut ties with my old life, but it hadn’t been easy. They still kept tabs on me and would notice that I abandoned my daily routine and living arrangements. They’d notice and come looking for me. Or worse, they’d send someone. I had to get a message out that all was well.

None of the normal ways would do. Even the unexpected ones were out. My only chance—the new computer.

Tricky.

The computers were monitored. Every swipe, key impression and personal biometric—heart rate, body temperature, even blood oxygen levels—all logged away, should review be needed. But I had my own way of talking to the computer, and I’d tested it. Outside monitoring had not been able to pick it up. I could send a message to my family. The only problem… it would look suspicious to them. I’d left home in a bit of a mood about how and when I used my skills, so they’d know something was up.

It couldn’t be helped.

Deciding was the easy part. Maneuvering to get the computer time, so Alec wouldn’t notice, more challenging. I needed continuous concentration to establish the first connection, and Alec was usually sitting five feet away. I managed to find my opening and communed with the computer, sending a message home.

The success was a bit anti-climatic, because they couldn’t respond. Once done, I kicked back and relaxed which meant I maintained a high level of fretting, second-guessing myself and feeling the fool. Fun, right?

On my sixteenth day with Ward Six, things changed. We were off again, hanging out at the townhouse when Nina sent me a text. It read: Omega Task Force crashing. Burning. Meet me for drinks. You know where.

Gil was watching sports. Don’t ask me which one. All I knew… it wasn’t the game I was playing.

I showed Gil the text. Sure, part of me wanted to keep it to myself, but the FBI had to be monitoring my phone since Day One. Maybe taking it to him would buy some goodwill. He read it and grunted.

“Okay, you’re not happy.”

“No,” Gil said, drawing out the one word for ironic effect, “this is my happy face.”

I joined him on the couch, leaving a wide space between us. “What should I do?”

“Go, but talk to me before you make a decision.”

Could I actually leave Ward Six? Hmm… I didn’t believe in easy outs. “Didn’t I make some deal with the devil?”

“You mean Ward Six?” Gil shook his head. “What do you really know? Nothing. It’s early days. If you want to go back to Wilkes, you can. It’s still all part of the same factory.”

Finding it hard to believe it was that easy, I made a sound of disbelief. “Nina probably wants to gossip. She can’t bring me back.”

“You want me to talk you out of it?” Gil frowned, and surprise flashed in his eyes. “I want you to stay if that’s what you need to hear. Ward Six can take you places that Wilkes can’t.”

I had no intention of working for Wilkes again. “Maybe I want to go to Washington and just see what she has to say.”

He faced me, unflinching. “It’s risky.”

“I can make it there and back today,” I promised, “especially if you lend me your car.”

Gil raised an eyebrow. “I meant as a career move. If the Task Force is falling apart, you don’t want to be connected to that level of failure and right now you aren’t.”

“What have you heard about Omega?” I asked. “That is, after the success of finding Amanda.” The public reports had few details. Gil, however, would have access to everything.

Gil leaned back into the couch cushions. He suddenly seemed exhausted. “The investigation has stalled. Questioning Amanda didn’t produce any leads.” He stretched out his arms, relieving some tension. “Nina has her own agenda, and Wilkes is still an ass, but you made mistakes, too, and they’ll throw that in your face.”

“Will they?”

“At some point it will help you to understand what you did right,” he paused, as if deciding to finish the sentence, “and what you did wrong.”

“What I did wrong?”

“Going forward, you’ll need to deal with it and learn from it, but not at a D.C. bar with Nina.”

And there it was—Gil’s opinion. He wanted me to ignore the text and commit to Ward Six.

“You want to professionally critique my time with Wilkes?”

Gil shook his head. “I’m trying hard NOT to do that.”

He leaned over and put a hand on mine. I couldn’t tell if it was a gesture to console or an offer to spend my last day off with him.

“Is it wrong to hope they need me on the Omega case?” I asked, ignoring the heat of his touch.

Our eyes locked, and suddenly, reading Gil was easy. It took one gaze to see the truth of his words and that he was on my side. A flush of acceptance and praise flooded my senses, along with a tug of longing. Those eyes. They took my breath away.

Oh boy. I blinked, realizing I was under the influence. Gil wasn’t a telepath, he was an empath and wielded mind control. He’d just used it on me, probably not the first time. But the compulsion had limits. He couldn’t make me do something I didn’t want to do. I pulled my hand away from his. My eyes narrowed. I shook off the tendrils of false desire, like stray thoughts that had no merit.

He watched me do it, too. One eyebrow rose, impressed. I’d passed another test. “Relax, I agree. Go to D.C. and see what they want,” Gil said, and nodded. “Drive safe.”

The dated saying rang in my ears. No one ever said drive safe anymore, except ironically or to show they cared. Maybe he cared. Maybe he thought Nina was trouble and would confuse me. Or he cared about losing me, since he’d picked up on my Gray and wanted more time to figure me out, turn my Unseen talents to his purpose. I was under his microscope, and maybe, just maybe, Nina could help me escape.

“See you at the next shift change,” I said.

Gil accepted my decision. “Don’t be late.”

“What happens if I’m late for a shift?” Suddenly, I wanted to know and wondered why it hadn’t been mentioned.

Gil shrugged. “No one’s ever been late.”

His tone suggested that I didn’t want to be the first.