The Reign of Darkness

by Britney Jackson

  Rose glanced warily at Kara, her eyebrows lifting in disbelief. “You’re his second-in-command,” she mumbled. “Should you really be laughing about that?”

  “Should I? Probably not,” Kara said with a grin. “Will I, anyway? Yeah.”

  Rose shook her head, a small smile pulling at the corners of her lips. Her smile faded, after a moment, though. “But this isn’t just an issue for Aaron, is it? If these vampires are older than Aaron, what chance do we stand against them?”

  “Physically? None,” Kara said seriously. She turned toward Rose, leaning close enough to whisper, “But you just balanced a ship, in a reckless ocean—with your mind.” She tilted her head, catching Rose’s gaze. “Age, physical strength—those aren’t limits for you. Whatever happens, I fully believe you can handle it.”

  Rose blew out a shaky breath, which rustled a lock of red hair that had fallen in her face. “Kara, I don’t… I just don’t have that kind of faith in myself.”

  Kara leaned heavily against her elbow, her body tilting toward Rose’s. “I know you don’t,” she said, her tone soft and sympathetic. “But one day, you will.”

  Rose’s chest tightened, suddenly. She couldn’t look away from those ice-blue eyes of Kara’s that were so open—so full of affection and sincerity. Even as thunder rumbled in the distance, and lightning flickered in the clouds, she could only look at Kara, only think of Kara. Kara’s statement—and the certainty behind it—struck Rose as intensely as a lightning bolt. The kind of faith that Kara had in her—it unnerved Rose. She was too much of a disaster to deserve that kind of faith. Too much of a failure to not disappoint. And she didn’t want to fail Kara.

  “So,” Rose found herself saying, “you’re not still angry at me, are you?”

  Kara leaned back on her heels, confusion twisting at her face. “Angry?”

  Rose blushed. “Earlier. You said it was hard to be angry at me when I…”

  A grin broke out across Kara’s face, as she remembered what Rose was talking about. She leaned in, her brows lifting. “When you keep, eh, pleasing me?”

  Heat rushed to the surface of Rose’s skin. She looked away, watching the dark, angry waves, instead. Clearing her throat, she said, “Something like that.”

  Kara chuckled. “Oh, Rose,” she said, shaking her head, “I wasn’t angry.”

  Rose’s bright blue gaze shifted to meet Kara’s. “But you said you were.”

  “I said I was trying to be,” Kara corrected. She reached out, taking Rose’s hand. Rose turned to face her, and Kara drew her closer. “When I get pissed off, everyone knows—usually because I kick someone’s ass. I wasn’t angry with you.”

  Rose’s brows furrowed. “But if you were, you would’ve kicked my butt?”

  Kara snorted, “No.” She slipped her arm around Rose’s waist, her palm tracing the curve of Rose’s spine. “I’d never hurt you. Or your ass. It’s too pretty.”

  Rose reached behind her, grasping Kara’s hand, as it trailed suspiciously low. She smiled, suppressing laughter. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation.”

  “As am I!” Kara said, feigning innocence. “I wasn’t the one who brought up your ass.” She peered over Rose’s shoulder. “Or how nice it is to look at.”

  “What?” Rose said, bursting into a fit of giggles. She pushed Kara back a step, as Kara burst into laughter, as well. “Are you even listening to yourself?”

  “Not really,” Kara teased. “Too busy listening to your beautiful laugh.”

  Rose rolled her eyes. “Oh my word! You’re full of it tonight, aren’t you?”

  Kara leaned forward, capturing Rose’s mouth, mid-giggle, in a kiss. The laugher died between their lips, as she cupped her hands around Rose’s face, and slipped her tongue into Rose’s mouth. Thunder rumbled in the distance, as Rose lost herself in the kiss—in the taste of Kara’s mouth, the sensation of her tongue.

  An icy drop of water hit Rose’s arm, as she reached out to grasp Kara’s jacket. She pulled Kara closer, as more raindrops pelted them, increasing in speed and pressure—until, eventually, it was an utter downpour. The cold made Rose clutch even tighter to Kara—her only source of warmth in this icy downpour.

  Kara tasted rain in the kiss, as it soaked their skin, drenching their clothes and hair. She laughed, “This is beginning to feel like that shower you interrupted.”

  Rose pulled back, her cheeks flushed, despite the cold. With a shy smile, she muttered, “That’s the second time you’ve mentioned that night in two days.”

  Kara stared at Rose, for a moment. She pushed a few wet strands of hair out of Rose’s face. “Well,” she said heavily, “it was a life-changing night for me.”

  Rose blinked in surprise. Then, slowly, her smile changed, becoming less amused, and more…affectionate. “It was,” she said breathlessly, “for me, too.”

  Kara smiled, her light blue eyes full of love and gratitude. “I wasn’t angry at you,” she said again. But this time, she looked completely serious. “Not really.”

  Rose squinted, as the rain dripped into her eyes. “It’s okay, if you were.”

  “But I wasn’t,” Kara assured her. Her thumb traced the curve of Rose’s cheek, wiping away a few drops of rain. “It bothered me that you didn’t tell me. But anger? Nah, I don’t think so. I wouldn’t be angry about something like that.”

  “Still,” Rose whispered, nervously biting her lip, “will you forgive me?”

  Kara sighed, “You don’t need forgiveness, sexy.” She looked down, her eyebrows quirking in amusement, as Rose played with the corners of Kara’s thin, leather jacket. She wasn’t even sure if Rose realized she was doing it. “I’m fucked-up in a lot of ways,” Kara said, after a moment. “I won’t judge you for your ways.”

  “I’m still sorry,” Rose said softly. “You were right. I should’ve told you.”

  Kara wrapped her arms around Rose, pulling Rose against her. She kissed the top of Rose’s hair—which was now drenched with rain—and leaned her head against Rose’s. Despite the fast winds and the cold rain, Rose’s soft, curvy body felt pleasantly warm against her own. “You’re dealing with a lot,” she murmured. “No one expects you to deal with it all correctly—if there even is a correct way.”

  Rose slipped her hand under Kara’s jacket, feeling the soft, thin fabric of Kara’s shirt beneath her fingers, feeling the warmth of Kara’s skin, which seemed to radiate into her. The pressure of Kara’s arms around her soothed the turbulent emotions inside her. “I can block it out, usually,” she murmured. “Until I sleep.”

  Kara looked up, watching as the rain pelted the deck of the ship, leaving dark stains on the wood. She held out one hand, frowning, as she felt the pressure of the rain increase, just as Rose started to cry. She dropped her hand quickly, not sure what to think. “You don’t have to block it out,” she said, after a moment of confused silence. “Whatever you feel, however you deal with it, I’ll understand.”

  Rose stepped back, squinting curiously at Kara. It was hard to see her in the rain, but she’d heard something in Kara’s voice—like a mixture of alarm and distractedness—that worried her. But whatever it was, Kara seemed to mask it, now, behind a perfectly controlled expression. “Thank you,” she said sincerely, “for telling me how you felt.” She looked down, anxiety dancing in her chest. “I wouldn’t want communication issues to come between you and me,” she paused, as the memories flooded her mind, “the way they came between Kallias and me.”

  Kara slid her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket. “Don’t worry,” she said, her shoulders lifting in a slow, careless shrug. “I value you too much to ever let that happen.” She took a step backward, as if she were about to head back to their room, and offered Rose a wry smile. “No offense to your ex, of course.”

  Rose blinked. “I’m pretty sure that was full offense to him, but okay.”

  Kara just winked. Another bolt of lightning zipped across the sky, briefly illuminating the deck of the ship. A cras
h of thunder immediately followed. Kara took another step back. “Come. We should warn Erik and Elise,” she said, as the waves crashed harder against the ship, “because this storm is going to be rough.”

  A Strange Symbol

  Rose wandered aimlessly in the dark, for what felt like forever, searching for something—anything—that she could actually see. Because so far, she’d seen nothing but darkness. It wasn’t that she was uncomfortable with it. As a matter of fact, she felt more at home in the darkness than she did in the light. But there was an urge, somewhere deep inside of her, to fight this. To refuse to surrender.

  She froze, as she heard a sniffle. Someone was in the darkness with her.

  Rose began to run. The sensation was strange—her feet hitting nothing but intangible darkness, her eyesight registering nothing but inky, black shadows. But stopping wasn’t an option for her. She heard soft, broken sobs, increasing in volume, as she ran toward the sound. She stopped, as a familiar form came into view. The woman lay, curled up, in the floor, her blonde hair covering her face.

  And there was a floor, now, Rose realized. A whole room, actually. With mud-brick walls and stone floors. The room manifested itself around the woman, as if it had been made for her. Rose stepped forward slowly, hesitantly. “Alana?”

  Alana looked up—her dark blue eyes swollen and irritated from her tears. “Rose,” she breathed, as if she were in awe. She scrambled to her feet, practically lunging toward Rose. She grasped the pocket of Rose’s hoodie. “You see me?”

  Rose leaned back, frowning at Alana. “Of course I see you. I always see you,” she paused, then, her blue eyes narrowing, “in my nightmares.” She pulled Alana’s hands, which were startlingly cold, off of her hoodie, and turned to leave.

  But Alana’s voice sounded so small and sad, as she called, “Nightmares?”

  Rose spun around, prepared to tell Alana that she was sick of her games, that she just wanted one night of peace. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t really Alana, that it was all just a manifestation of her worst fears. She still planned to yell and scream to her heart’s content. Until she got a good look at Alana. Usually, Alana seemed so put-together, so in control—just like she’d been in real life. But here, now, she looked different. Her pale blonde hair was messy and matted—nothing like the smooth, clean perfection it usually was. Her face was reddened with tears, and her dark blue eyes were bruised with exhaustion. “What happened to you?”

  Alana shrugged. “I died. You were there,” she said dully. She returned to her spot on the floor, sitting up against the wall. “It was all right, at first. I came to this room. I relived some of my happiest memories with Kara and Erik.” Her dark blue gaze shifted up, meeting Rose’s gaze. “Did you know we left the colony for a few years, once? It was nice. Quiet, even. Erik learned to control his power. He used it to help me. I still craved vengeance, but for a while, love was enough.”

  Rose watched her curiously. None of her nightmares had ever played out like this before. “Let me guess. Kara found a girlfriend, and you got jealous. And so, love wasn’t enough, anymore,” she said bitterly. “Or was it Erik, that time?”

  Alana looked down at the floor, her brows creased with pain. “I deserve that,” she admitted. “I did hurt them quite often. I treated them like possessions.”

  Rose frowned, not sure what to think. “This is the weirdest nightmare-version of you I’ve ever encountered. Since when are you self-aware? And nice?”

  “You gave me peace, Rose,” Alana told her. “I’ve had time to think.”

  “How did I give you peace?” Rose muttered. “I didn’t do anything.”

  Alana’s dark blue eyes widened. “You don’t know, then?” she breathed. “It hasn’t happened.” She scrambled to her feet again, startling Rose. “So, there’s still time? I could help you.” She stepped back, her brows creasing. “I could help.”

  “Help me with what?” Rose mumbled. “What kind of nightmare is this?”

  “You could see your brother, too,” Alana said suddenly, “if you wanted?”

  Pain seared through Rose’s chest, like a laser, and before she could stop herself, she fell to her knees, sobs spilling from her mouth. “How dare you,” she whispered, as Alana watched her worriedly. “How dare you bring him into this.”

  Alana knelt in front of her. “You don’t understand. This isn’t what you think it is. I know it’s confusing, but the memory’s there. You just have to see it.”

  Rose shifted, bringing her knees up to her chest, resting her face against them. “Put what you want in my nightmares. But not him. Leave him out of it.”

  Alana reached out, tucking a little bit of hair—that was wet with her tears, already—behind Rose’s ear. “I’m sorry about the nightmares. I know how terrible that is. I wish there was something I could do to help,” she sighed, as Rose looked up at her, frowning. “But you have to realize: this isn’t a nightmare. This is real.”

  “How is it real?” Rose said. “You’re dead, and yet, you’re here, talking to me.” She rolled her eyes tiredly. “If you’re going to lie to me, at least try a little.”

  “If you knew what you were,” Alana said, “you’d know I’m not lying.”

  Rose wiped angrily at her eyes. “What I am,” she scoffed. Her bright blue gaze shifted toward the floor. “Even if what you said had been halfway believable, I still know better than to trust Nightmare-Alana. I wouldn’t trust the real Alana.”

  Alana’s dark blue eyes narrowed. “Oh, you wouldn’t?” she said, her tone clipped, full of barely restrained fury. “It’s your lover who lies to you, Rose. Not me.” She raised up on her knees, leaning toward Rose, spitting the words at her, like venom. “And I, of all people, would know. She belonged to me first.”

  “Ah,” Rose said bitterly. “Now, you’re acting like the Alana I know.”

  A familiar look came over Alana’s face—one that Rose recognized easily, one that always came, right before Alana snapped. “So, this is the side you want, then,” Alana sneered. She lunged forward, in an instant, shoving Rose against the wall, as she hovered over her. She grasped Rose’s long, red hair and jerked it back, tilting Rose’s head back. Rose stared up at her, confused by her sudden change in attitude, stunned by the excitement and exhilaration she saw in Alana’s eyes. “This is the only side you’ll respond to?” Alana snarled. “Then, it’s the side you’ll get.”

  A soft whimper escaped Rose’s lips, as Alana roughly twisted at her hair.

  Alana tilted her face closer—close enough that Rose didn’t know if Alana meant to kiss her or bite her, only that she clearly meant to do something. “Does Kara do this?” she hissed, jerking Rose’s hair. “She always liked to do it with me.”

  “Umm, that’s,” Rose grunted, wincing, “not something I need to know.”

  Alana brushed her mouth against Rose’s. “Only way to make you listen.”

  As soon as Alana’s lips pressed against hers, Rose threw Alana backward with her mind. Alana hit the opposite wall so hard that, if this had been real, Rose thought it would’ve injured her. But it wasn’t real, of course, and Alana was back up before Rose had time to breathe. “Finally,” Alana laughed, as she raced toward Rose, once again. This time, she grabbed Rose by the throat, instead. She climbed on top of Rose, pushing her head back, as she tightened her hold on Rose’s throat.

  Rose’s head began to spin, and her lungs burned from the lack of oxygen.

  Alana pressed her lips against Rose’s again. She kissed her lightly—the softness of her lips just barely pressing into Rose’s. She pulled back. “Things are not what they seem,” she whispered. “You think you can’t breathe, but you can.”

  Rose frowned, wondering how she was supposed to breathe with Alana’s hand around her throat. But then, she opened her mouth, and felt the air rush in.

  Alana released her throat, then, and smiled. “Do you see now?” she said, so quietly that a human wouldn’t have heard. “You couldn’t breathe because yo
u thought you couldn’t. Your limits don’t actually exist. You just believe they do.”

  Rose’s breath came faster. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”

  “I’m trying to tell you what you are,” Alana said, “before it’s too late.”

  “What?” Rose said. Her eyesight began to blur at the edges, and her lungs began to burn. Shadows stretched higher, enclosing around them. “What am I?”

  Alana collapsed on the floor, leaning tiredly against Rose. “It’s too late.”

  —

  Rose opened her eyes. She blinked up at the ceiling, her head still reeling from that rollercoaster of a dream. She sat up, slowly, glancing around the room.

  “Too late for what?”

  Rose turned, glancing over her shoulder, at Kara. She’d expected to find Kara under the blankets, still half-asleep—since it was the middle of the day, still.

  But instead, she found Kara wide-awake already—sitting upright, against the headboard. She had both legs stretched out in front of her, tucked underneath the blankets. Her foot brushed the bare skin of Rose’s leg, and though it was their only contact, it radiated a pulse of heat through her, all the same. She stared into those glistening, cornflower-blue eyes of Kara’s, her brows furrowing, as she saw something there, in Kara’s eyes. It was an ache of some kind—sadness or…grief?

  “What?” Rose sputtered, blinking out of her daze. “What do you mean?”

  “You said it while you were asleep,” Kara murmured. Her voice had that sleepy lilt to it now—the one that made Rose shiver a little. “That it was too late.”

  Rose swallowed uncomfortably, as her dream replayed in her mind—the strange way that Alana had behaved, the sudden shift in attitude, the way she’d seemed to be trying to tell Rose something, the way she’d never gotten to… That was the last thing she’d said to Rose. It’s too late. “Is that all I said?” Rose asked.