Light Shadows

by S. L. Jennings

  I want to know my dad. I want to know about the Warlock that betrayed his race for a woman he was programmed to despise. A woman that he had been trained to kill. What secrets lie behind those ice blue eyes? What hidden pain is he concealing under that controlled, stoic guise?

  “Can you tell me…how? How you came to know my mother? Natalia?”

  A smile twitches his lips just at the mention of her name, and I imagine her face manifesting in his mind. “She was a brave warrior, highly trained and cunning. Incredible strength and speed. Of all the Dark Hunters, she was the most revered. Had killed more of my men than I’d like to admit.” He chuckles, as if the thought of the beautiful, petite woman slaying men twice her size was amusing. But I can see that he not only loved her—he respected her. He admired her skill.

  “When Dorian and I were given the order to hunt her after lesser men failed, I was excited at the chance. Finally, a real fight. Something to break me out of the monotony of my existence. Something to make me feel alive again. But what I found instead was so much more. I was…intrigued. I hadn’t been interested in much more than killing for many decades. But I found myself curious of her. Desiring just a moment of her attention.”

  I try to picture the day in the woods that my mother wrote about in her journal. The day she first saw my father while perched atop a tree. I find myself smiling too. “Do you think she felt the same? Do you think she was also intrigued?”

  “At first, no,” he replies with a shake of his head. “She abhorred everything the Dark stood for. We were not a merciful people. We slaughtered many of her kind through years of fighting. I could understand her hostility—she was sent to extinguish us. That was her objective. However, she was not without compassion. Maybe she saw how much war had withered away my will to live. Maybe she found honor within me when I did not expose her that day.”

  “Why didn’t you? Why did you lie about seeing her?” I’m on the edge of my seat. This is the most we’ve spoken to each other since he arrived. There’s so much I want to know about him, my mother, even Dorian. He could answer all the questions I’ve been harboring for the past two decades.

  “I do not know. But I believe it was something bigger than both of us that kept us from killing each other that day. It was destiny—the Divine’s will. He would not have spared us otherwise.”

  “And what about the next time? When you ambushed her in the abandoned warehouse? Did you plan to spare her then too?”

  He shrugs, and it looks like a foreign gesture for him, as if he is not familiar with the movement. “I don’t know what I was thinking when I failed to strike. I told myself that I had been fooled by Light illusion during our first encounter. I had not planned to let it happen again. There was no deception in her golden eyes as we bound her from all sides. She didn’t cry or show one ounce of fear. She was bold and proud and radiant. Her Light was brighter than any I had ever seen.”

  My mother was a gorgeous, badass woman, even in the face of Death. Wow. What a legacy to live up to. What I wouldn’t give to have the chance to learn from her.

  “I had to seek her,” Alexander continues, immersed in the tale he’s probably replayed over and over since the day he was torn away from her. “I had to figure out why I was so drawn to her. It was driving me mad, distracting me from my work. Dorian was suspicious. We were closer than brothers, yet he had never seen me act so reckless and unpredictable. I knew he wouldn’t approve, so I set out to find her on my own. Naturally, the Hunters were nomadic, but my tracking abilities were superior. And when I found her, she nearly killed me.”

  “And you let her.”

  He nods once. “Yes. I was on her territory. It was foolish of me, but I hadn’t been able to think rationally since that day in the woods. When she realized that I would not fight back, she bound me, but she healed me.”

  “She healed you? So the Light can heal the Dark?” So I do have a chance at helping the people I love?

  “More or less. Our magic is like positive and negative charges. Yin and yang. We are opposites in every way. To heal me, she had to reabsorb her energy. Then she gave me her life force so I could regenerate.”

  “But didn’t that…change you?” Wouldn’t that make him more Light?

  “Not in the way you would think. It created a physical bond between us. Slight and temporary, given the small amount of herself she transferred to me, but I felt her living inside me. And it only solidified my desire to know her.”

  I look away from his mesmerizing gaze to find that I’ve somehow shifted closer to him and am on the very edge of the couch. I’ve been so engrossed in his story that I didn’t realize I’d been moving.

  “So that’s what did it? That’s what made you—”

  My next words are cut off by a garbled scream, as blinding pain sears my back. I try to reach behind me, convinced that someone has taken a red-hot branding iron to my skin. I can smell my own flesh burning, melting straight down to the bone. Alexander is already on me, ripping off my shirt as I double over on the floor in pain, shrieking, crying, choking. I vomit through sobs until I’m too weak to even heave.

  “Oh, no,” Alexander gasps in horror behind me.

  It’s the last thing I hear before I pass out face down in my own bile.

  PEACE LIVES HERE.

  It's swims within the cool, clear waters carried by a rippling tide. It shines in the bright sun hanging above, radiating warmth and life. It's buried in the soft sands beneath me, tickling my toes and the back of my legs with tiny, grainy kisses. It's carried by the sweet winds that caress the tops of my shoulders.

  There's no suffering in this place. No pain. No strife. It's my very own hidden paradise.

  I sit in the same spot where Dorian had made love to me under a million stars. The same spot we’d sat when I died and my mind and body had needed time to heal.

  "Aren't you forgetting something?"

  His voice both revolts and thrills me. It's not that I'm surprised he's here–I'm wise enough to know that he's never too far away–but I was seeking peace. Serenity. A safe house in the midst of a harsh storm.

  "That's why I'm here," he says, reading my thoughts. "You recognize what I could provide you–safety, comfort, contentment. Do you not remember the last time we were here together? The way you wanted to please me? The joy you felt with just an ounce of my appreciation? Imagine the full impact of my favor, Gabriella. You would never have to feel anything more than bliss for the rest of your days."

  I turn towards Stavros's voice although I know he is not there. My blood doesn't sizzle in my veins. My skin doesn't dampen and ache to be touched. My mouth doesn't salivate with the uncontrollable need to have him on my tongue.

  "But you want to hurt me," I manage to say, sounding every bit of the meek, little girl that he believes me to be.

  He laughs, and a frigid gust of wind rakes over my skin, pebbling my nipples. "I do not want to hurt you, Gabriella. I want to teach you. I want to guide you. And when you're ready, I want to fuck you. And I will. You and I both know it. You were not meant to lay with a mere prince. You were made to inhabit the bed of a king. To sit beside him on a throne built of the sacred blood of Dark royals. You need a man, Gabriella. Not a boy."

  I want to dispute his claims—to tell him that Dorian is all the man that I’ll ever need—but the tide suddenly rises and I'm lying in two inches of freezing cold water. Dark clouds eclipse the bright sun and the soft sands harden against my skin.

  I twist and turn my body, but I sink deeper into the water. The flawless white sand that used to tickle my toes becomes dark and sticky, grasping onto my limbs, pulling me under like a vacuum. I fight to stay at the surface, but it’s too strong. Within seconds my arms and legs have been completely devoured by the quicksand. I open my mouth to scream, hoping that the king will show mercy, but a bolt of lightning slices open the sky, purging torrential rains from the heavens.

  I can’t breathe. I’m choking, drowning. My body is bound by the earth,
while the sky punishes me with a sheet of rain so thick, I can’t even see two inches in front of me. Water collects in my eyes, my nose, my mouth. And although I can no longer hear the roar of the wind, I hear his laughter taunting me once more, before the earth swallows me whole.

  I AWAKE THRASHING, gulping air, clawing at pillows and blankets like I’m fighting for my life. I’m face down, but there is no quicksand. I’m not being buried alive on that beach in Skiathos. I’m in my bedroom, and I’m completely dry, save for the feel of wet, soft velvet brushing my back with slow, gentle strokes. It leaves behind a trail of pleasurable tingles, blooming sensation up and down my spine. I’ve felt that softness before. On my lips, on my nipples, between my thighs. It’s brought me more pleasure that any one person should be allowed to feel.

  “You’re licking me?” I whisper. I knew Dorian was here, the moment I opened my eyes. His scent of rainwater and sex surrounds me, intoxicating my senses.

  He shifts, settling beside me, and the velvet strokes cease. Still, warmth and comfort continue to radiate over my back.

  “My hands are skilled, but my tongue can give you so much more.” I don’t miss the smile in his voice. Even when he’s concerned for me, he can’t help but drip with eroticism. “I came as soon as I felt your agony, but you had just fallen unconscious. How do you feel?”

  I do a mental assessment of my body, grateful that the spontaneous, searing pain is gone. There’s not even a hint of vomit on me, save for the vile taste in my mouth. He must’ve cleansed me before putting me to bed.

  “What happened?” My voice is raspy from screaming and retching, and it hurts to swallow. Feeling my discomfort, Dorian hands me a glass of water that I appreciatively gulp down in seconds. “There was so much pain…then I was on the beach…” With Stavros.

  I turn to my side and glimpse the tight, grim line of his lips. “I know. I brought you back. I’m sorry I wasn’t here when it happened. I was so sure that you had been spared.”

  I pull the sheets up to cover my bare breasts before sitting up. “Spared?”

  “From the curse. Your mark.”

  My mark? My hand flies to my shoulder blade where my fingers trace a patch of raised skin, indicating some type of design. It’s cold to the touch, yet it doesn’t hurt. I’ve been marked. While I was writhing on the floor, feeling like something or someone was carving their initials in my skin with a blistering poker, I had been tagged as a corrupted beast—the price I’d been forced to pay for simply being born to a Dark father.

  After the Dark disbanded from the Light, the Divine cursed them to wear a mark signifying their family name. It was only visible to those who were supernatural, or Otherworldlings, as Dorian put it, as a way to identify their shame and perversion. Dorian wore his on his ribs, bold script that read Skotos in Greek lettering. When nothing showed up the moment I ascended, I just assumed that my Light side had pretty much cancelled out my Dark. Especially considering that my magic is operating on a different wavelength than any of the two powers.

  I bound out of bed and race to the bathroom, eager to see the brand that will be etched into my skin for eternity. How could I possibly be categorized? Polemos? Will the sins of my father haunt me for the rest of my days? Or have I created a new house, completely unique to who and what I am?

  Naked from the waist up, I turn at just the right angle to see a symbol carved into my right shoulder blade. It’s an upside down triangle, although it’s broken at the very top and the two ends don’t meet. Within the triangle, there appears to be a P with an X branching from it. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen, and certainly nothing like the tattoos those Dark wannabes received.

  “What is it?”

  Dorian steps into view behind me and rests his hands gingerly on my shoulders. “The upturned triangle is what we symbolize as human. The emblem inside it is the Polemos house sigil.”

  I frown. “But that doesn’t make sense. Yeah, I get the part about Polemos, but I’m not human. Right?”

  He nods once, letting his solemn gaze drop to the floor. But not before I see the apology in his eyes. “You are not. And the break in the triangle signifies a flaw—a fracture. As if a human was broken enough to be infiltrated by magic. Polemos magic, to be exact.”

  The full impact of his words hits me hard enough to make my knees buckle. Dorian swiftly catches my falter, and I lean against the sink, letting the pieces fall together. “This symbol doesn’t represent me, does it? This isn’t my mark.”

  He shakes his head, cringing.

  “It’s my punishment, right? My cross to bear for killing that boy…that innocent, human, fucking kid that was possessed and sent on a suicide mission by a piece of shit Dark coward.”

  “I’m sorry, little girl.”

  I’m sorry, little girl.

  “Oh my God. Jared,” I whisper as remembrance slams into me. “What happened, Dorian? Is he ok? Where is he now?”

  Again, Dorian looks at me with regret in those endless baby blues, and I feel my blood grow cold. “The boy is fine.”

  Fine? Then why the hell is he looking at me like that? Like he’s just discovered that last bit of my heart that’s still unmarred, still beating with life, only so he can crush it in the palm of his hand?

  “Well, where is he? Can I see him? Give me the keys. I’ll shoot over to his room now.” I take a step toward the bedroom, and Dorian stops my advance with a hand on my elbow.

  “That’s not possible, Gabriella. He’s…gone.”

  “Gone?” I pull out of his grasp as if his fingertips are laced with arsenic. “You just said he was fine. What happened over there? What is it that you’re not telling me?”

  He opens his mouth, but quickly snaps it shut before diverting his eyes. I know that gesture. I despise that gesture. It’s Dorian’s way of averting the question. He can’t lie, so simply omitting the truth is the next best thing. I won’t let him get away with it. Not this time. He will tell me what happened even if I have to infiltrate his inner most thoughts and feelings and sift them out myself.

  “Don’t,” he murmurs through a tightly clenched jaw. He shoots me a look that flares with the promise of violence if I push him. Bring it.

  “Tell me, Dorian. I won’t ask you again.”

  He bores that penetrating gaze into me, the one that says he’s two seconds away from unleashing his inner demon and making me eat my words. He doesn’t do threats—give or take. “Leave it alone, Gabriella.” There’s a peculiar inflection in his voice, as if he’s just been transported to ancient Greece.

  “I won’t let this go.” I shake my head, my eyes still locked on his so he can see the resolution in pools of blue and gold. “He’s my friend, Dorian. You know how I feel about him. And if you think I’ll just pick up and move on without knowing he’s ok, then you honestly know nothing about me.”

  He’s as still as stone, completely unmovable, for a long beat before releasing a resigned sigh. “He’s at the airport. He’s transferring to Notre Dame for their soccer program. A slot just opened up recently, and he has to be there today.”

  “What?” I take a step back, putting even more distance between us. “What are you talking about? It’s the middle of the semester. He’s a junior. Why would he transfer now? And all the way to Notre Dame? How is that even…”

  I stand there, mouth agape, finally seeing the real reason Dorian has been looking at me with such guilt and anger painted on his face. He’s guilty because he had something to do with Jared’s sudden move across country. And angry with himself because he knew this would hurt me.

  “Why were you at Jared’s dorm, Dorian? What reason would you have to tear yourself from my bed during the time I needed you the most, just to pay Jared a visit in the middle of the night?” My voice is calm, cold, much like his own.

  “You know why, Gabriella. You saw what happened with Donna. Did you really think I’d let that happen again?”

  I purse my lips and lift an accusing brow. “So you’re tell
ing me that you did this for me.” It’s not a question. “That this has nothing to do with you wanting Jared out of the picture for good.”

  “Have you given me a reason to want that?” He pins me with a glare as icy as his words.

  “Absolutely not,” I say, rolling my eyes. “My loyalty has never been on trial. Can you say the same?”

  Dorian sucks his teeth and snorts, a tight, sardonic smile on his lips. “Your friend was in danger, Gabriella. The girl who tried to attack him had been compelled by an Orexis—she shared their brand and had their magic on her lips. I did what needed to be done to ensure his safety, which included exposing myself. I didn’t have any other option. Should I have stood by and let him accept her kiss? To have the very life sucked from his body by a small, unsuspecting girl?”

  “No, of course not—”

  “Then what is it you want from me? You want me to suffer for what I’ve done? You want me to feel bad for wanting you all to myself? Because I don’t. I won’t apologize for doing what needed to be done.”

  His words take the steam right out of me, and I bite back my initial retort. “I just wish you would’ve told me. So I could say goodbye...So I could tell him…” I shake the thoughts from my head and turn towards the bedroom. “I don’t have time for this. I need to get to the airport.”

  “No.” The finality in his voice stops me up short, and I turn back to him.

  “No?”

  “No.” He scrubs a hand over his face, the static of aggravation rolling off him in waves. “It’s impossible.”

  “Impossible?” I touch my palms to his chest, fully aware of my current state of undress. If he won’t listen to reason, maybe a little distraction will do the trick. “Nothing is impossible, Dorian. You of all people should know that.”

  He leans into my touch, eyes closed, and inhales the small space between us. “He…he no longer knows you. You can’t say goodbye, because Jared has no recollection of you ever being a part of his life.”