Darkness Fair (The Dark Cycle Book 2)

by Marks, Rachel A.

  “Just get in the Jeep,” he orders.

  I set my jaw and turn back to the Audi, going for the door handle. He grabs my wrist from behind and spins me around, getting so close his heat mingles with mine as he puts his lips to my ear and whispers harshly, “You want me to say it so they can hear? You want them to know that the demon that wants you dead might be back?”

  My pulse skips at the word demon. And it dawns on me what he means. The demon Hunger. Aidan said it might be back, but why would that mean Connor needed to stalk and kidnap me?

  I pull away a little so he’s not so close. “I’m wearing my amulet.”

  He shakes his head, then glances behind me, probably to the other two girls who’ve gone totally silent. “Can you please just come with me?” His voice has a desperate edge to it now.

  “You could’ve just texted me, you know,” I say, backing away.

  “I did. You didn’t answer.”

  I give him a disbelieving look, pulling my phone from my pocket. I press the button to turn on the screen and nothing happens. “Battery’s dead.”

  “Hey,” comes a sly voice on my left. Apple. “You trying to steal our girl?”

  Connor keeps his eyes locked on me.

  “Who’s this, Emery?” Sam asks; she comes to stand beside me, taking a protective pose.

  “He’s hot,” Apple adds, raking her eyes over Connor’s muscular form. “Way cuter than the Valley reject you invited to my party last month.”

  Heat rises on my cheeks. “This is Connor. Connor, this is Apple and Sam.”

  Connor really looks at them now. “Apple. That’s your name?”

  She giggles her high-pitched flirt-giggle and touches her long blonde hair—she is so typical when it comes to boys. And designer bags, for that matter. “You always follow girls into hotel parking lots, Connor?” she asks.

  “I just need to talk to Rebecca here, and then you can get back to shopping.”

  Samantha is giving him an assessing look, like she’s making sure he’s safe. “Why do you keep calling her Rebecca?”

  “Yeah, only her brother called her that,” Apple says, totally clueless as to how her words just stabbed me in the heart.

  Samantha glances sideways at me, a pained look in her eyes.

  “And you might be cute,” Apple adds, “but you’re no Charlie.”

  I want to curl in a ball and block out the sudden pain. How could Apple be so clueless? Yes, she’s a bitch, but not usually this much. She must really think Connor’s cute.

  He looks away from them and back to me, his eyes gentle. “Come on, I’ll explain everything, I swear.” He holds out a hand in offering, a lifeline as the storm rises inside me.

  So I take it and let him pull me to the Jeep, ignoring Apple’s chatter behind me. I mouth to Samantha, I’m okay, as I get into the passenger side.

  She motions back for me to text her before we pull past them in the roundabout.

  I don’t let myself cry as we head down the familiar streets and Connor doesn’t say anything, not until we’re pulling off the freeway again and entering his neighborhood.

  “I’m sorry,” he says finally. “I was a total jackass to you yesterday. I should’ve thought before I said anything. I—”

  “Don’t worry about it.” I just want to forget our kiss and his subsequent rejection of me. Definitely not wanting to talk about it. “Can you tell me now why you needed to kidnap me, though?”

  He blows out a puff of air. “Your amulet won’t protect you against this thing if it gets one of its minions into a human host. Once a demon’s possessing someone, the human eyes will see you and the thing will be able to do whatever it needs to do for its master.”

  A wave of icy air washes over me as I realize how vulnerable I was all day at Starbucks and then school.

  “And I can’t see demons like Aidan can,” he adds, “so if it’s close to you, I’ll have no idea. We just need to be careful, Rebec—I mean . . . damn.”

  “It’s all right,” I say, exhausted from it all. “Call me whatever you want.” Then I turn to him and add, “And thanks for coming to make sure I’m safe.”

  “Aidan left me a note,” he says quickly, like he’s confessing it to me.

  “He did?”

  “It’s what I was reading when you came into my room yesterday. He reminded me about the demon and told me to be sure and watch out for you.”

  Of course he did. “Oh,” is all I can manage. Because it wasn’t Connor wanting to protect me. Again, it was Aidan.

  “I was the ass who didn’t even think of it.”

  “Well, I’m not your problem,” I say, looking out the window, trying not to be disappointed yet again. I’m not Aidan’s responsibility anymore, either. I guess it’s time for me to learn to take care of myself.

  And with that thought comes a feeling of steadiness. It is time for me to stand on my own. Past time. I guess I’ve sort of been doing it already, but I need to get over my fear of being alone.

  Connor swerves the Jeep, shocking me as he pulls off to the side of the road and jerks to a stop, putting it in park. He sits there for several seconds in silence, gripping the steering wheel.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, when I can’t take the silence anymore.

  “The reason I came after you,” he finally says, “is that just thinking about you being hurt or tormented by anyone or anything makes me nuts. I came because I can’t stand the thought that I hurt you, because I’m a prick and a coward and all I can think about is how much I want to kiss you again. From the second I saw you standing in the house two months ago, right after you met Aidan, my gut’s been in knots. I go to sleep trying to erase your smell from my head, wake up needing to erase you from my dreams before I go crazy.”

  “Connor,” I whisper, “I—”

  But he turns to me and moves closer, so close, sticking the words in my throat.

  He lifts his fingers and brushes my cheek. “I know you care about Aidan. Maybe it’ll always be Aidan, I don’t know—with this fate shit, no one knows. But I won’t pretend I don’t care if that’s going to push you away and hurt you. I thought it was the right thing to do, but I can’t, I just can’t let you believe I don’t care.” His eyes settle on my lips. “Because I do. So much, it feels like a punishment.”

  I stare at him in stunned silence, unable to formulate a response. His touch slides down to my jaw, and his thumb and finger take my chin, tipping my head.

  “I want to kiss you again,” he says quietly. “This time I won’t pretend to regret it.”

  I wait, holding my breath, until he closes the distance between us and my eyes shut, a sigh of relief leaving my chest. His lips brush mine, so gently it’s like a whisper, but it sends a rush of heat over my skin. His hand moves to my shoulder, gripping me, like he’s straining to hold back. With each touch my heart beats faster, and as the kiss deepens I feel myself getting lost in the moment of breathless tension.

  And then he pulls away, and I open my heavy eyelids. His features are pinched like he’s in pain, and I’m not sure what he’s feeling.

  “Don’t,” I whisper. “Whatever you’re thinking, just stop. It was perfect.”

  “I’m not a good guy, Rebecca.”

  “You are to me,” I say.

  He shakes his head but he doesn’t say anything else. He just breathes deep, in and out, and then squeezes my hand before letting go, like he’s trying to reassure me. I can only sit back in the seat and watch him pull onto the road again. I try to hold in a sigh, as the feeling of this moment soaks in, deeper and deeper, into my skin, my heart, to a place inside where whatever happens after right now, that perfect memory won’t ever be stolen from me.

  THIRTY-NINE

  Rebecca

  Kara peeks her head into Holly’s room around eight o’clock. “Do you still want to come?” she asks me. Her voice is tight, but there’s vulnerability in her eyes.

  I have no idea where she’s taking me or what we’re going t
o be doing, but I feel like it’s important that I at least try to be her friend. Even though I’m pretty sure that’s never going to happen. I mean, she’s Kara. She hates me.

  The weird thing is, I don’t hate her anymore. If I ever did. I just don’t trust her. Aidan trusts her, though, and I trust Aidan, so I’m going to see where this open door leads.

  “I’ve just gotta get my boots on,” I say, grabbing them off the closet floor.

  Holly looks up from her book. “Where are you amigas going?” She’s sitting in bed, trying to get through The Jungle, by Upton Sinclair, for some English class she’s taking. She has to keep setting her alarm for thirty-minute intervals to stay awake. I already told her that Kara’s taking me on some mystery adventure tonight, and hinted that maybe she could come along, but Holly was pretty adamant that she’s staying out of all adventures for a while, since the ones she took with Ava got Lester killed.

  Kara opens the door a little wider when she answers. “I just need to check something.”

  Holly glances over to me, looking like she’s trying to send me a message: Don’t go, maybe?

  I zip up my second boot and stand, straightening my sundress. “Well, I’m ready for whatever.” I grab my pink cardigan off the foot of the bed.

  Holly snorts. “Don’t say that. A dead lady came to me last night in my dream. She’d kicked the proverbial bucket while bungee jumping. Those were probably her last words before the bungee snapped.”

  “God,” I say.

  “Yeah, she wants me to find her fiancé and hit him in the balls with a socket wrench—apparently he was some sort of car mechanic, I don’t know . . . but he cheated on her with her sister. Yikes.” She sighs, like she’s gossiping about an actual friend. “Anyway, I told her she should just AMF and move on.”

  “Are we seriously talking about this right now?” Kara asks.

  I slide on my cardigan. “What’s AMF?”

  Kara groans. “Does it matter?”

  “Adios, mother effer—but, like, with an ucker at the end.” Holly winks.

  Kara throws her head back. “So lame. I’m leaving. Good-bye.” And she turns, heading for the stairs.

  “You better consider this,” Holly says as I’m rushing to follow.

  I pause and give her a questioning look.

  “Kara’s in a bad place right now, friend. You want to be careful. Her claws sting when they come out.”

  “I know.” I’ve felt them dig in. “But I need to try and make this right.”

  Holly frowns. “Why?”

  I shake my head, not knowing the answer myself. It just feels important. “Please don’t tell Connor, okay?” I don’t need him chasing after me again. If that demon, Hunger, and its minions really are out there looking for me, they’ll find me eventually. And I can’t hide in this house forever. Time to take my freedom back a little—from boys, from fear.

  When I hurry out the back door, Kara’s sitting on the porch step, waiting for me. “You finally ready?” She stands and starts walking through the yard, to the garage. I follow, deciding silence is my best bet for now.

  We climb into the Camaro. She starts the engine then pushes something, making music fill the cab. It’s a man singing, and the thing she pushed—which looks like a smaller version of a VHS tape from the ’80s or something—says Simon & Garfunkel on the side. It sounds nice, melodic and relaxing. I wouldn’t have expected Kara to like something like this, though.

  “What kind of music player is that?” I ask in fascination. I can hear a whirring sound just underneath the notes.

  She laughs. “Haven’t you ever seen an eight-track?”

  Uh, that would be no. “Does it play video, too?” Didn’t VHS play video? I look around for a screen but I don’t see one.

  She laughs harder. “Oh my God, you are hilarious. Wow.”

  Okay, I’m going back to being quiet.

  After a good half hour we’re pulling off the freeway, into what appears to be a not-so-nice neighborhood. I stare at the people walking down the street, the graffiti and dilapidated buildings, wondering if we should really be in an area like this at night. “Where are we?”

  “I think this is Lynwood or Watts. Around there.” She looks sideways at me when we stop at a light. “You scared?”

  My heart speeds up. “I’m just not sure we should be out here at night.”

  “Where we’re going isn’t that bad,” she says. “Better than the place in Chinatown where I grew up. Some of the walls in our building were made of cardboard and pieces of furniture. The old lady who ran the complex was crazy as shit. Tossed a kid’s dog off the roof when it peed in the hall.”

  I don’t even know how to comment on that.

  “Just don’t look anyone in the eye,” she says, turning down a residential street.

  I grip the edge of my cardigan.

  She smirks. “I’m kidding. Relax.”

  “We’re in the projects. At night.”

  “People actually live here, you know. They don’t just shoot each other and steal each other’s cars. There’s, like, kids and grandmas and stuff.”

  “I know.” She’s making me feel like a prissy rich girl from The Hills or something. God, I better not come off as prissy.

  She parks under a streetlight, in front of several rows of apartment buildings. We get out of the car and I move to walk close beside her, trying not to think about all the movies and TV shows I’ve seen where there were stabbings and shootings in places that looked just like this.

  Kara points the key fob at the Camaro and clicks the alarm on as we make our way down the path between the two buildings.

  “She’s right up here,” Kara says, pointing to the second building down on our right.

  “She, who?”

  “The witch.”

  Not liking the sound of that. I try not to look at the group of six huge guys standing by an apartment door on our left. “Why’re we here?” I ask, but she doesn’t answer.

  A whistle comes from the group of young men and someone catcalls, “Don’t go, Ginger. You’re breakin’ my heart.”

  We finally stop in front of a door and Kara knocks. There’s a strange symbol above the peephole. A few seconds pass when all I can hear is the clinking of chains and sliding of locks, then the door opens.

  “Kara, child,” the woman says, with a warm smile on her face. “You surprise me, I thought you’d be done with all this.”

  Not a super good reader of the future, then.

  She’s pretty, in a safe, grandmotherly sort of way. She’s a round African-American woman with silver-grey hair, tied with a scarf. Her dark eyes seem to carry a lot of mischief in them. Her grin shows her teeth, and several are covered in gold. Her clothes are colorful and flowy, and about a dozen necklaces clatter at her chest; several dozen bracelets clack as she moves in for a hug.

  She squeezes Kara—who pats the woman’s back awkwardly—then turns to me and grabs me for a hug. I don’t have time to respond before she’s holding me out in front of her by the shoulders, looking me over. “Oh, girl, you’re goin’ down a rough road.” And she makes a sound in her throat like an underline of the statement. “Poor thing.”

  “This is Rebecca, Miss Mae.”

  “Lovely.” She squeezes my upper arms. “She’s just lovely. Look at that hair! Pretty as a sunset.”

  I give her a stiff smile. “Thanks?”

  Miss Mae laughs heartily and waves us in.

  “Who’s coming to visit, Aunt Mae?” Someone asks from behind me.

  We all stop and turn. A young African-American man stands outside on the porch with a group of guys—the ones that hooted at us when we walked by.

  “You reading people’s futures again?” he asks. “Inviting the riff-raff back into the hood?”

  “Don’t be nosy, now, Tray.” She waves her hands like she’s shooing a stray dog.

  He looks the same age as Connor, maybe a year or so younger, but there’s a hard edge to his eyes that makes me
think he’s seen too much pain. He’s dressed in baggy jeans and a large white T-shirt, and he has gauges in his ears and an intricate tattoo on his neck. He smiles and his gaze skims over me, then Kara. He seems to recognize her. “Back again? How’s my brother?”

  “Jax is fine,” Kara says. “Better now that he’s not living with his dad.”

  Tray nods and then looks over to me again. “You a new recruit to the house of crazies?”

  I shake my head.

  “She’s a friend of the new guy, Aidan,” Kara says.

  He smirks at her. “I thought you were that Aidan guy’s friend.”

  I expect her to be annoyed, but she just smirks back and punches him in the shoulder. “I’ll tell Jax you said hey. But you should come by one of these days. Things have been tough since Lester.”

  Tray nods. “I’ll find time.” Then he reaches out, touching her cheek in this very endearing way that makes me wonder. “You taking care of yourself?”

  “Always.”

  “You let us work, now,” Miss Mae says to them. She takes me gently by the arm. “Come on now, sweetheart. Let’s get that lily skin inside before the wolves pounce. Those boys’re crafty. They’ll have your doe eyes full’a stars before you know it.”

  A couple of the guys laugh and Tray smiles at me, and I see what she means. He’s got the same smile as Jax, slick and handsome, but he seems much more dangerous. Mostly because he’s being a gentleman.

  “Nice to meet you, friend of Aidan’s,” he says.

  “Rebecca,” I say, as Miss Mae pulls me farther into the apartment, shutting the door.

  The place is small but tidy. I can see she’s tried to cover the water stains on the walls with paintings and quilts, and the stained carpet with rugs. The kitchen, living room, and eating area are all in one room and there’s a door beside the kitchen—probably leading to a bedroom and bathroom. The space is dimly lit, with only one lamp. I expected to see a lot of black, with skulls and pentagrams everywhere, but instead everything is full of color, with images of animals and nature settings in paintings, photos, and fabrics.