Light Shadows

by S. L. Jennings

  She unscrews her bottle of OJ and takes a sip. “Yeah. Beautiful. And creepy. Really creepy.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  Morgan twirls the orange juice bottle cap between her fingers, spinning it on the countertop. “You know Alex has been working on a way to dull my sight, so I’m not constantly haunted by ghosts. Still…something in this house isn’t right. I feel this restlessness, as if something—or someone—is trying to get my attention.”

  I turn towards Morgan, who diverts her eyes to the plastic bottle cap, refusing to meet my questioning gaze. I flick my wrist reflexively, and the bottle cap freezes on its side, completely still as if suspended by invisible strings.

  “Whoa! What the hell!” she exclaims, nearly tipping over on her stool. I stretch a hand out to steady her, and end up freezing the seat too, motionlessly balancing on one leg.

  “Sorry!” I say, reaching out to grab her before she topples over. Both the bottle cap and the stool fall into place simultaneously.

  Morgan shakes her head before a chuckle bubbles up from her chest. “Wow, Gabs…you’re kinda awesome, aren’t you?”

  I inhale relief and exhale my fear before shrugging. “I guess. Takes some getting used to at first. But it’s pretty cool, when I can remember to control it.”

  Morgan moves forward, fascination sparking her big, brown eyes. “So all this time, you never knew what you were? You seriously never sensed that you were more than human?”

  I shrug again, picking up the OJ bottle cap. “I mean, I always felt out of place. Like no matter what I did, I didn’t fit in. I tried to be normal—I honestly tried to be happy with being mediocre. But, I just knew something was missing.”

  She nods thoughtfully. “And then you met Dorian.”

  I lift my gaze to hers, my eyes squinting with a smile. “And then I met Dorian.”

  “Damn. I heard of some encounters that are life changing, but nothing ever quite like this.”

  My cheeks flame and I divert my eyes to my hands. “Yeah. He’s pretty special.”

  “Pretty special?” Morgan trills. “Homeboy is loaded, fine as all hell, and he adores you, Gabs. I’ve never seen someone so…connected…to another person. It’s like he can feel and see everything through your eyes and acts accordingly. Like he moves his body around yours to protect you from feeling any pain.” She looks towards the wide picture windows that frame lush, green forestry and a small body of water. “Must be nice to feel that way—so loved and cherished. I thought I had something close to that once. Now I doubt I’ll ever feel that again.”

  In that moment, I felt like the biggest asshole in the world. I had lost, yet I wasn’t the only one. Morgan was hurting deeply, no matter how good of an actress she was. When I ascended, I stole something from her. Her innocence, her buoyancy. I stole her life. And although it was inadvertently, I can’t help but feel responsible for stripping away any chance at a real future, free of all the supernatural terrors of our world.

  I did this. I caused this. Had I not chosen to be forever undecided, I could have spared her.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, not knowing what else to offer.

  She shakes her head. “Like I said before, Gabs—not your fault. You had no idea this would happen. And I still could have ended up like this. You know, my dad went through the same thing. Maybe it was just always in my blood.”

  “It was.”

  Tingles claw their way up my spine when I hear his voice. God. It’s wrong—I know it’s wrong—but I can’t help it. And while I may hate myself for feeling this way when he’s in my presence, I have to find out why…Why does he do this to me?

  Niko strides into the room, so gracefully that I can’t even really tell if his feet ever touch the ground. The grin on his face is so devilishly alluring that even Morgan has to turn her head to hide her blush.

  “What do you mean?” I ask, seeing that Morgan has been stunned speechless by his presence. Niko in his full glory is hard to digest, even for the strongest man-eater. Morgan is no match for his charms, even with him being an asshole to her no less than a day ago.

  “It was in her blood,” he replies, stopping to stand across from us. “I did a little digging into Morgan’s family history. We always suspected that her grandmother gave her life to protect her from you, Gabs. But what if that spell wasn’t one of protection? What if there were rumors about you—a prophecy—that trickled down to lower forms of magic? That spoke of a girl that would resurrect peace among Otherworldlings and humans?”

  I sit there at a total loss for words, unable to press for more, but thankfully, Niko continues. “I’m inclined to believe that Morgan was not cursed, but chosen. Chosen to stand beside you as an ally, not a casualty.”

  “But how do you know that? Why would anyone choose this? To be haunted by ghosts every single damn day? How could that ever help?” Morgan asks, throwing her hands up.

  “I don’t know,” Niko replies, shaking his head. “I don’t know what any of this means. But there are things happening—things that have happened in the past—that prove that this prophecy has been in motion for years. Before either one of you were even born.”

  “I just don’t get it,” I whisper. “Who would do this to her?”

  “We weren’t the only ones counting on your ascension,” he explains. “Other forms of magic—even the unnatural ones—have their own reasons for wanting you to restore peace among the Dark and the Light.”

  I look up at Niko curiously. “Is that what you want?”

  He holds my gaze for long, tense seconds before looking away. “It doesn’t matter what I want. I learned not to desire things a long time ago.”

  There’s that sad inflection again. That hidden sorrow that sometimes rears its ugly head within a single tremble of his voice. I open my mouth to say something to offer comfort, but he quickly nods towards Morgan.

  “Morgan, Alex has been working on something to help you sleep. You’ll find him in the study, getting his Harry Pothead on. Scurry off now, love.”

  And just like that, Niko is back to bad jokes and brashness. Still, I won’t let him get away with brushing me off again.

  “How do you know all this?” I ask, as soon as Morgan is out of earshot.

  “I don’t,” he answers, turning for the door.

  “Wait. You do know something. In fact, you know a lot more than you want the others to know. Like how you were able to get me to unfreeze Dorian and Alex. Spill it, Skotos. And I don’t want to hear any bullshit about you not knowing what I’m talking about.”

  He drops his head and takes a deep, aggravated breath before turning back to stand across from me. “Fine. But you have to swear to keep this between us.” He holds up a hand and sweeps a finger in a circular motion, spelling the room to conceal our voices.

  “I promise.”

  “I’m serious, Gabs. Telling anyone, especially Dorian, could be dangerous for us all.”

  “I swear, I won’t say a thing,” I say, holding up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

  “You were never a girl scout,” he smiles, shaking his head.

  “But I could’ve been.”

  “No. They would’ve kicked you out. But I will admit, imagining you in that little green getup is pretty damn tempting.”

  “Shut up,” I reply, rolling my eyes in jest. “Stop trying to distract me and get on with it. Seriously, Niko, how do you know all this stuff? What you did to me at the Broadmoor didn’t feel like Dark magic. But it felt…dark-dark. Like it was wrong.”

  “That’s because it was,” he replies with a sigh. “After…Amelie…I started to search for a reason for her death. Why would I be forced into her life only to kill her? It’s like she knew that would be our fate. It didn’t make sense. I told you she was a Laveau, one of the most powerful Voodoo bloodlines in the world. After much…coaxing…I found someone willing to teach me. I needed to control the evil that took Amelie away from me to ensure that it would never, ever happen again. In se
cret, I spent years learning their rites and rituals, and even stumbled upon a few of their legends.”

  “Voodoo? So like what Morgan’s grandmother was into?”

  “No,” he replies with a shake of his head. “Haitian Vodou is different from the Voodoo that’s found within the piss-stained streets of New Orleans. But they all shared a common thread. You.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, Gabriella. They’ve all been waiting for you. Everyone from the Celtic Wiccans to the Curanderos of Peru to the Mo Phi in Thailand. They had all been waiting for your ascension.”

  I choke on my next word, my mouth suddenly bone dry. “Why?”

  “I don’t know,” he shrugs. “That’s the part that stumps me. That and…”

  “And?” Shit. There’s more? What could be more disturbing than learning that you’re part of some crazy-ass prediction that spans across the globe?

  Niko looks down at his hands, flexing his knuckles. “Each prophecy depicted you as their own form of savior—the chosen one, the embodiment of both good and evil. And while some details were lost in translation, they all explained that there would be those that would stand with you and fight. A human, birthed from ancient folklore…”

  “Morgan!” I trill, sliding to the edge of my stool.

  “One birthed from the sun. A daywalker or one that walks in the Light…”

  “A Light Enchanter?” I frown, perplexed. “But…but I don’t know anyone from the Light.” My mind flashes to the attendant in the airport—Analiese. But that was back in Colorado Springs, and I didn’t even get to talk to her. Could she somehow play a part in all this?

  “I know…I’m not sure how the Light are mixed into this. They’ve been very clear that they want no part as far as you’re concerned. Choosing to rally with you is cause for execution according to their laws. And now that you’re half Dark, I doubt any would willingly come within ten feet of you.”

  I can’t help the sting of pain that his words inflict on my fragile ego. Great. An entire race of the Divine’s precious creations is choosing to hate me just for breathing? I haven’t done anything to them, but their kind just can’t seem to stop fucking with me. First they kill my mother. Then Xavier, although completely psychotic, came damn close to bringing me to the same fate just days ago. And the one Light Enchanter that tried to help me, Solara, was murdered trying to protect me.

  Fuck the Light. If it hadn’t been for my mother’s memory, I would’ve shunned them altogether, just like they had done to me.

  “So that’s it?” I ask, my mood taking a nosedive. “That’s what you can’t figure out? How the Light would ever want anything to do with me?”

  “No, Gabs. It’s not that. It’s…”

  “Just tell me already!” I snap.

  Niko hisses out a breath before leaning forward onto his elbows, leaving only mere inches of space between us. “The prophecy only speaks of two born out of darkness. Two Dark Ones. Not three.”

  “What?”

  “Do the math, baby girl. There are three of us here. One will not stand with you in battle. Which means he will either betray you, or meet death before that time comes.”

  I only have a fraction of a second to digest his words before a shadowed blur catches the corner of my eye. Someone’s here. Niko sees it too, and within my next breath, he dissipates into a billow of grey smoke, leaving me only with his whispered words echoing inside my head.

  “Do not speak of this. Ever. No matter what he does to make you submit.”

  IT’S LATE WHEN I make it back up to the white room. After picking my jaw up off the floor when Niko disappeared, I resumed studying the book Alexander gave me, forcing my mind to focus on something—anything—else but the prophecy.

  Someone in this house would betray me, or die. Both outcomes felt equally morbid. Of course, my mind went straight to Alex since he was the newcomer in the group and I barely knew him. But my heart…my heart couldn’t accept that my blood—my father—would ever go against me. And the thought of him dying? After just getting him back? I couldn’t wrap my head around it.

  Then there was Niko, my friend, my companion. Things had gotten weird between us lately. Not a bad weird necessarily, but ever since I felt his mind that day at the Broadmoor when he opened to me, I felt an odd draw to him. Like we had connected on a cellular level, much like I had done with Dorian. I knew how he felt about me; I knew he would never betray me. Plus why would he share these secrets with me only to stab me in the back?

  Still, the fact remained that Niko was Dark, and he admitted to not truly knowing if he wanted his race to join with the Light. He was the less reformed of the group, the less accepting. Maybe his distaste for the Light would override his loyalty to me.

  When it came to Dorian, I knew within the very marrow of my bones that he loved me, and he would do anything to protect me. I didn’t have to guess; his heart spoke for him. The link between us was growing stronger every day, and soon I wouldn’t be able to distinguish his feelings from mine. And while it was worrisome—and pretty damn invasive—it really came in handy during times like this when I was faced with so much doubt.

  No, Dorian would never willingly betray me, but I knew he would die for me. And that scenario was the scariest of them all.

  Our room is empty, and a few dozen flickering candles are the only sign that Dorian has been here recently. I hadn’t seen him all day and was beginning to worry. However, I was grateful that he had given me space to study and think. His mere presence was a distraction, especially when all I really wanted to study was the way his mouth fit over mine. Or the taste of his tongue when he playfully slid it over the seam of my lips. Or the sound he made in the back of his throat when he finally pushed inside me after teasing me to the point of pain.

  God, I live for that touch. I die for his kiss. I worship every sigh and groan that rumbles inside his hard chest. Just the sound of his pleasure is enough to make me come.

  I shake my head and blink rapidly, realizing that my lustful daydreaming has led me to the bathroom. I’m completely naked, standing before the large vanity mirror and my hand is between my legs, my fingers slipping over my sensitive folds. I gasp, embarrassment painting my face. What is wrong with me? Has ascending made me into some kinda nympho?

  I hurriedly jump into the shower, eager to douse my raging hormones with some cold water. I have to get a handle on myself. What kind of savior could I be when I was turning into a bona fide peen fiend?

  Unfortunately, the shower does nothing to dissuade my pressing issue, but I am cold enough to keep the fluffy white towel tightly wrapped around my naked body. I scurry from the en suite bathroom to the bedroom in search of my warm pajamas, when my body is plucked from the ground and my back goes crashing into the wall, hard enough that it rattles the colorful canvas pictures on the walls. I’m stunned, confused, disoriented… but all of that is strangled from my throat when I realize exactly what’s happening to me.

  I dangle several feet from the ground, my thighs resting on Dorian’s shoulders as his hands cup my ass. He’s holding me up, his face buried at my apex, breathing raggedly as he opens my legs wider. His mouth doesn’t touch me just yet, but I can feel his cool breath, can hear him inhale the scent of my exposed sex. A deep growl erupts from his chest and he nuzzles my flesh with his nose, breathing the most potent part of me. I’m embarrassed, but so fucking turned on. I don’t know if I should beg him to stop or beg him for more.

  I grab a handful of his hair and push him away, only to pull him right back again. “Dorian,” I gasp. “What the hell are you—?”

  My last words are broken into a moan as I feel his tongue replace his nose. No, not just his tongue. His entire mouth. He’s licking me, sucking me, eating me like a starving man. Like he’s never tasted anything so sweet in his centuries of existence. He groans loud enough to vibrate my sex, sending shockwaves from my clit to my nipples. And he doesn’t stop. He moans like I’m the one sucking him. Like I’m the one paint
ing a masterpiece with my tongue. He’s ravenous, dangerously so. For a second, I fear that he may actually take a bite out of me, and the prospect of carnage only excites me further.

  My body jerks and shudders as the first drops of my release fall on his lips. Dorian laps up every bit, catching each drop on his tongue as he moans his delight. We shift, and with my eyes closed in an orgasm-induced haze, I feel like I’m falling. When I try to catch myself, I find that we’re on the bed. Dorian is under me, and I’m straddling his face. He reaches up to rip the towel from me completely before grasping my heavy breasts and guiding my body into a slow, grinding rhythm.

  Holy. Shit. He wants me to ride his face.

  I find that my body is no longer my own. My hands grip the headboard involuntarily. My hips begin to rock back and forth, causing unbelievable friction against Dorian’s lips and tongue. Even the feel of his stubbled chin grazing my sensitive, wet sex makes me buck and whine. Yet I can’t stop. I can’t keep from doing it again and again, moving faster, grinding down harder. His fingers pinch my nipples, the sting bringing on a new layer of sensation, and I cry out. I mean to beg him to stop, but it comes out as a garbled plea for more. I don’t know if it’s Dorian controlling me, or the Dark within taking the reins, but as I scream his name and fuck his face, I know that without a doubt, this is what I want.

  I’m coming again, trembling uncontrollably as I brace myself against the headboard. Then there’s another shift, and Dorian is no longer under me. He’s behind me, guiding my hips to him and spreading my legs, exposing a stream of wetness running down my thighs. He doesn’t say a word, and he doesn’t have to. Not when his body speaks to me with every single tongue in every single language.

  The tip of him presses at my entrance so maddeningly slow that I try to push back against him. He won’t let me. He just continues to torture me one inch at a time, refusing to fill me like I beg him to. It’s like he doesn’t even hear me crying for more—like he’s in no hurry at all to put me out of my misery. I may already be dizzy with two, toe-curling orgasms, but I need him inside me. I need him to make me so full that there’s no room for anything else.