by Kristie Cook
“So what do we do now?
He sighs and a shadow crosses his face. “I guess all that we can do is be ready.”
“I can do that,” I smile. I think last night I proved to myself and everyone else that I am more than capable of taking care of myself now. “So you really aren’t disappointed in me?”
“Of course not. Why would you think that?”
“Last night, after Dugan and his followers rushed off, you looked upset. I thought it was because I ruined everything you had been planning for weeks. I thought you were mad that I put the Light Elves at risk,” I choke on the words. After everything he has done for me, I hate that I may have disappointed him.
“Of course I was upset. What kind of father would I be if I wasn’t upset that my only daughter put herself at risk like that? I never wanted you to have to go through any of that. If anything, I am disappointed in myself that I couldn’t defeat Dugan for you.”
My heart swells with affection for my father. I throw my arms around his neck and hug him tightly.
“I love you, Dad.
“I love you too, Mia.”
Alberico and I finish the rest of our breakfast talking about much more pleasant things than Dark Elves, like school and my job and even cheerleading. Try-outs for next year’s squad will be in a few weeks and I’m in charge of organizing them. After our showdown with the Dark Elves, I’m more than confident I’m up for the challenge. In fact, I’m looking forward to doing something so completely ordinary again.
After breakfast I head to Jacoby’s room as I promised earlier. I feel a little giddy about seeing him, even though I just saw him an hour or so ago.
The door is ajar so I just let myself in.
“Jacoby?” I call out when I don’t see him. Maybe he is waiting for me in my room.
I’ve never been in his room before, so curiosity gets the best of me, and I decide to take a look around. His room seems slightly smaller than mine, but that could just be because of the slate and gray tones making the room much darker than my pale gold room. I know his closet probably isn’t nearly as massive as mine. Guys don’t need all the extra space for their shoes.
I wander over to the large bay window. It faces the west so he probably has a perfect view of the sunset every night. I idly wonder which view would be more beautiful, my view of the lush gardens or his of the rich gold and pink hues of the setting sun. I decide it’s a toss-up.
“Hey, Lark.”
I turn at the sound of his voice to find him coming out of the bathroom.
Wearing nothing but a towel and a crooked grin.
“Oh! Sorry! I was just, uh, checking to see if you were ready to leave yet,” I stammer as the heat rises to my cheeks. Nobody should be allowed to look that good in a towel.
“Not quite yet,” he smirks slyly, gracefully sauntering over to me with his damp hair glistening.
“Um, well, I’ll go. So you can finish, um, getting dressed.” I turn to leave but his hand catches mine.
He pulls me against his damp chest and places his hand on my back. He presses his lips lightly on my forehead before leaning down and kissing my lips. Even the lightest touch leaves me breathless and tingly, and I feel like my heart is seconds away from exploding with joy. I wonder if it will always feel like this?
I hope so.
“I’ll be ready in a few minutes,” he sighs wistfully.
I’m still a little incoherent from the kiss, so I just nod.
“Gotta get you home before bedtime,” he grins. “You’ve got school tomorrow.”
“We’ve got school tomorrow,” I correct him as I slowly make my way out the door, smiling brightly at the turn of events in my life.
I know that things aren’t over yet. In fact, they are just beginning. I may be blessed by the Sun goddess, but I have royally pissed off the Dark Elf king. I know that he will eventually seek revenge. And when he does, I’ll make sure I am ready to face the consequences.
But for now, I have other things to worry about.
Like homework.
In the Shadows (Lark #2)
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Promise
by
Kristie Cook
Chapter 1
9 Years Ago
The sensation of being watched clung to me like a spider web, invisible threads bristling the back of my neck and down my spine. I brushed my fingers across my shoulders, as if I could drag the feeling off and flick it away.
It was ridiculous, of course. Not just ridiculous to think I could pull it off so easily, as if it really was strands of a web, but it was even more absurd to feel it in the first place. Nobody ever held that much interest in me. Occasionally, people stared with curiosity when they picked me up on their “weird radars,” but usually they just ignored me. No one ever watched so intensely.
Yet the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end at the feeling as I visited my favorite Washington, D.C., monument for likely the last time. I sat on the stone steps with the stately Thomas Jefferson behind me and gazed over the Potomac River tidal basin, enjoying the peace just before sunset. Well, trying to enjoy it anyway.
I blamed the ominous feeling on my unruly imagination, with it being twilight and the sky looking so foreboding. It was the perfect backdrop for one of my stories. The sun hung low—an eerie, orange ball glowing behind a shroud of haze, a column of steel-blue cloud rising around it, threatening to snuff it out. I envisioned something not-quite-human watching it from the shadows, waiting to begin its hunt under the cover of darkness.
That’s all it is, just my fascination with mythical creatures, I told myself. Uh-huh. Right.
Surrendering hope for a peaceful moment, I hurried to the closest Metro station. The feeling of being followed stuck with me on the train ride home, but at my stop in Arlington, I forgot the sinister sensation. Some kids from school stood near the top of the escalator as I stepped off. I’d witnessed before their favorite summer activity: dressing in all black and hassling people exiting the Metro station. So mature, but what can you expect? They were younger—they hadn’t graduated with me over a month ago—and apparently, still stuck in the rebellious phase that I’d never been through myself.
I usually took the elevator to circumvent them, but had been too distracted tonight.
“Hey, there’s the weird girl who heals,” one of them said loudly to the others. “It’s s’posed to be really freaky to watch.”
“Hey, freak, got any tricks to show us?” another called.
I pretended not to hear and crossed the street to avoid them. My eyes stung, but no tears came. I wouldn’t allow them. It was my own fault—I’d been a klutz with the Bunsen burner in Chemistry and my lab partner saw my skin heal the burn almost instantly. People harassed me about it every day the last two months of school. If I didn’t let them get to me, they were usually just annoying. Usually.
Night had crept its way in during my ride home. I walked quickly through the bright commercial district and turned down the darker residential street for home, still four blocks away. Footsteps behind me echoed my own. I quickened my pace. Two more days. That’s all. Just two more days and we’re out of here.
“C’mon, dude, we just wanna know if it’s true,” a boy’s voice said.
“Yeah, just show us. It doesn’t hurt, right?”
I glanced over my shoulder. Three teens followed me and I caught the glint of a blade in one of their hands. I realized their plan to satisfy their curiosity—slice me open and watch the wound heal. What is wrong with people? Of course, it hurts! Bungalow-style homes lined the street, each with an empty front porch. Not a single person sat outside on this summer’s evening. No one to witness their fun and my agony. My heartbeat notched up with anxiety.
Pop! Crack! The streetlights along the entire block blacked out at the sounds. I inhaled sharply and halted mid-stride. The footsteps behind me ceased, too.
“What the hell?” Surprise and fear fi
lled the boy’s question.
A couple appeared from nowhere, three houses down, standing in the middle of the street. It was too dark to see their features and I could only tell their genders by their shapes. The woman’s high-heeled shoes clicked on the pavement as they walked toward me. The man, big and burly, pulled his shirt over his head and handed it to the woman. Without breaking stride, he took off one shoe and then the other, leaving him with only pants. What the . . . ?
I considered my options. The woman and her half-naked companion blocked my way home, but I wouldn’t just raise my chin and walk brusquely by them, pretending they meant no harm. Because I just knew they did. I stood trapped between the boys with the knife and the bizarre couple. Somehow, I knew the knife was less threatening.
“Boo!” The woman cackled as the boys took off running. As she and the man closed in on me, the alarms screamed in my head.
Evil! Bad! Run! Go!
My sixth sense had never been so frightened. I couldn’t move, though. Fear paralyzed my body. My heart hammered painfully against my ribs.
The couple stopped several yards away. The woman studied me as if assessing a rare animal, while the man lifted his face to the sky, his whole body trembling. I followed his gaze to see the thin, gauzy clouds sliding across a full moon. The woman cackled again. Panic sucked the air from my lungs.
“Alexis, at last,” the woman said, her voice raspy, like a long-time smoker’s. “We’ll get such a nice reward for you.”
My eyes widened and my voice trembled. “D-do I know you?”
She grinned, a wicked glint in her eyes. “Not yet.”
Or ever, if I can help it.
I turned and ran. My pulse throbbed in my head. Breaths tore through my chest. My mind couldn’t focus, couldn’t make sense of this absurd couple and what they wanted with me, but my body kept moving. The bright lights of the commercial area I’d just left beaconed me to their safety.
The woman abruptly appeared in front of me before I was half-way down the street. The shock sent me hurling to the ground and my head smacked hard against the pavement. Stars shot across my eyes. My hands burned from asphalt scrapes. Fighting the blackness trying to swallow my vision, I rolled onto my side, gasping for breath. A sticky wetness pooled under my temple.
My eyes rolled up to the woman, who now pointed what looked like a stick at me. Her lips moved silently as she waved a pattern in the air. I felt pinned to the ground, though nothing physically restrained me. Panic flailed uselessly below the surface of my paralyzed body, making my breaths quick and shallow. I was done for. They could do anything they wanted with me. There was no escape now.
My vision faltered. Now two women stood over me, two sticks pointed at me. Two moons wavered behind them. I didn’t know if it was fear or the head injury that caused everything to slide apart and together again. I squeezed my eyes shut.
But I couldn’t close my ears, couldn’t block out the gnarl. My eyes popped open with terror, expecting to see a wild beast, but the feral sound came from the man. His eyes rolled back, showing only whites. His hands clenched into fists. His muscles strained, the veins protruding like ropes along the bulges. His body shook violently until the edges of his shape became a blur.
“I can’t hold it,” he growled.
“Then don’t,” the woman said. “Don’t fight it. It’s time!”
A ripping sound tore through the night as the man lurched forward, his skin shredding. A gelatinous liquid spurt out of him like an exploding jar of jelly. His pants tore into ribbons as his body lengthened and grew. The shape of his limbs transformed. His face elongated, his nose and mouth becoming a . . . Holy crap! A snout?! I gasped, a scream stuck in my throat. By the time his front . . . legs . . . hit the ground, fur covered his body. He was no longer man. He was— A freakin’ wolf?!
The beast moved closer, a low growl in its throat. Its stench of decaying corpses and rotting leaves overwhelmed my sensitive nose, the disgustingly sweet odor gagging me and forcing me to breathe through my mouth.
Pop! Another woman appeared, again out of nowhere. Her pale skin glowed and her white hair shimmered in the moonlight.
“I smell blood,” she said, her voice a flutter of wind chimes. “Mmm . . . delicious blood.”
The scrapes on my hands had already healed, but not the cut on my head. It must have been deep enough for a normal person to need stitches. For me, it could take ten minutes to heal. So my blood was still fresh.
I could only smell the wolf’s rancid odor as it hovered over me.
“Back off, mutt,” the white-blonde snarled as she stepped closer. “This is too important for the likes of you.”
“How dare you!” Stick-woman gasped. “We had her first!”
“Alexis is mine. Always mine!”
What the hell is happening?! What do they want with me? Whoever they were, they wanted to do more than just terrorize me. I could hear it in the way the blonde said I was hers. She wanted me to hurt . . . or worse. Cold fear slid down my spine and hot tears burned my eyes.
Pop! My heart jumped into my throat as another man materialized in the darkness and strode toward me. Not more! The wolf growled. Both women hissed. Goose bumps crawled along my skin.
The man stepped in front of me, placing himself between me and the others.
Good! Very good! Safe! My sense slightly calmed me.
“You’re alone?” the blonde asked. “Ha! You haven’t a chance.”
The wolf lunged at my protector. He raised his hands and thrust them out toward the beast and it flew back as if blasted by something unseen. I heard a thud and a whimper as it hit the pavement. I blinked several times, disbelieving what I just saw.
The women hissed again. The first one raised her stick, pointing it at my protector. The blonde took a step toward me.
Pop! Another person appeared, between the two women and my human shield. The women responded immediately—their teeth gleamed in the moonlight as their lips spread into grins.
No way could my protector stand up against this second man. The new one was taller, wider in the shoulders, thicker in the torso and arms than my protector, who was now out-numbered and out-muscled. The second man took a single step toward us. I didn’t dare look up at him, afraid of what I might see. But I felt his eyes rake over me. My trembling turned to quakes.
My sixth sense continued shouting conflicting alarms, everyone’s intentions so strong. Good and Evil both screamed in my head and I couldn’t tell which this new person was.
But then he turned to face the women and their expressions darkened. And I knew. He was on our side. I swatted down a leap of hope, though. The attackers still out-numbered my protectors.
The wolf, now back on all fours, stalked toward us. The fur on the back of its neck rose. Hunger shone in its eyes as its lips curled back in a snarl. Its pace quickened, my heart galloping with it. It lunged once more. I tried to scream. My constricted throat only allowed a whimper.
Then the wolf flew backwards again and fell to the ground a second time. The bigger man’s hand hung in the air, palm straight out facing the wolf, as if he’d hit it, but I never saw the contact.
Both women eyed me with obvious greed. Then their eyes shifted back to my brawny protector and confusion and even fear flickered across their faces. He turned his hand toward them. Their eyes widened, looking as terrified as I felt.
They disappeared with two pops.
“I’ve got Alexis! Take care of that one!” The lankier man easily lifted me into his arms and sprinted toward my house. The beast’s stench continued to fill my head, a persistent odor that wouldn’t leave even as distance separated us.
A wolfish howl behind us diminished into a human cry of pain. I shuddered in the arms of the stranger.
***
“Alexis, honey.” Mom’s voice, soft and distant, pulled me out of unconsciousness. “Honey, it’s time to get up.”
“Huh?” I mumbled, disoriented.
“We need to go.
”
I forced my eyes open and squinted at her against the brightness of daylight. She knelt on the floor next to me, where I was wrapped in a blanket, a pillow under my head. How did I get here? The last thing I remembered was the stranger running with me in his arms.
Renewed fear gripped me and I sat up with a gasp. Pain shot from the base of my skull to the backs of my eyelids. I pressed my fingers to my temples. Was it real? I examined my hands. No scrapes. I touched my head. No bump or cut. It meant little, though. They would have been healed by now anyway.
“What happened last night?” I asked, my voice husky.
“Hmm?”
I started to tell her about my night. Her brows pressed together as I told her about the boys with the knife.
“I can’t believe how mean kids can be,” she interrupted. “You should have let me move you after the burn.”
I shook my head, just once. It hurt too much to move it more than that. She misinterpreted it, though, thinking I still protested her offer to move to avoid my humiliation. I hadn’t wanted to leave so close to graduation. But that happened months ago. It didn’t matter anymore.
“I know,” she said. “We’re moving now and you can have a fresh start.”
“No, that’s not it. There was this couple in the street, too. And the man . . . he changed into a . . . a werewolf. And the woman—I think she was a witch.”
Mom’s eyebrows arched. “Honey, do you realize what you’re saying?”
I did. And it sounded ludicrous. In fact, in the morning light, I knew it was more than ludicrous—it was absolutely impossible. But it had felt so real . . . .
Confused, I studied her inhumanly beautiful face. She always said we had similar features—chestnut hair, almond-shaped, mahogany eyes, smooth, light-olive skin—her words, not mine. It described her in an understated way and was overkill for me. I resembled her, but she looked like an angel and I looked like her very human daughter.
She also looked, impossibly, twenty-six years old. Mom didn’t age. One of her quirks. By the time I was fifteen, we had to tell people we were sisters because she looked too young to be my mother. I called her Sophia in public, but Mom in private.