The Reign of Darkness

by Britney Jackson

  The princess nodded. “You’re right,” she said, catching Kara by surprise. “When you know what’s going to happen, it’s easier if you distance yourself—no personal connections, no emotional attachments. I never intended to get personal. I never intended to see any of you as people. You were all just parts of a formula.”

  “I suppose that’s how your uncle sees it, too,” Kara assumed.

  “Erastos has most likely left all sanity behind, by this point,” the princess said, “but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t understand how easy it is to just…cut it all off.” She sighed and looked up at Kara. “I shouldn’t have listened to my mother.”

  That earned a chuckle from Kara. “You’re just now realizing that?”

  “I confided in Rose, once,” Princess Myrinne told Kara, “only because I knew, deep down, that she already knew—because Darkness played a part in it.”

  Kara’s smile faded. “She played a part in what?”

  “The death of my people,” the princess said, “and the birth of our kind.”

  Kara frowned curiously at that. “Wait. Rose knew? How did she…”

  “She tapped into her pre-human memories,” Princess Myrinne said, “but only briefly. Not enough to…realize. The point is: she understood. She told me I was wrong, but she understood—that I was desperately hanging on to the only family I had left.” She shrugged. “My mother cared for me. No one else ever did.”

  “Zosime does,” Kara told her. “Ligeia does, too. I think even Colina…”

  “I was unfair to Colina,” the princess said. “Rose was right about that.”

  Kara nodded sadly. “She’s right about a lot of things.”

  “Do you want to know why I didn’t trust you?” Princess Myrinne said.

  Kara snorted, “I never wonder why people don’t trust me. If they do trust me, that’s when I ask questions.” She looked away. “Like when Rose trusted me.”

  “I didn’t trust you,” the princess said, “for the same reason humans fear the dark. It’s unpredictable. Unknown. I knew what to expect from everyone else because of the prophecies. But not you. Because you weren’t in the prophecies.”

  Kara blinked at that. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re not part of the prophecy,” Princess Myrinne said. “You weren’t fated to be here. Rose was fated to fall in love with Kallias—but never with you.”

  “I know you don’t like me, but fucking hell,” Kara sighed. “That’s cruel.”

  “I’m sorry,” Princess Myrinne said honestly. “I don’t mean it to be.” Her shoulders lifted and fell in a helpless shrug. “I’m just telling you the truth. You’re not supposed to be here. In the prophecies, you’re called the Wolf, and you were only mentioned once—when you were meant to die: fourteen hundred years ago.”

  Kara blinked, as she remembered Darkness mentioning it. “The fever.”

  “Darkness was meant to collect you, after that battle,” Princess Myrinne told her, “when you were injured by a battle-axe and suffered a deadly infection.”

  “She…” Kara trailed off, her breath coming faster. “She left me alive.”

  “She defied fate, Kara,” Princess Myrinne said, lifting her eyebrows, “for you. People can’t change fate, but Darkness is more than a person. Rose…is more than a person.” She paused for a moment, letting that sink in. “According to fate, our world ends now. Whether it’s because of Darkness or the war—we all die.”

  Kara’s brows furrowed. “You think Rose can change it.”

  “I don’t know,” the princess said. “I only know that she has before.”

  Kara shook her head, her expression pained. “But if Rose is gone…”

  “It was Darkness who did it last time,” Princess Myrinne reminded her.

  Anger hardened Kara’s intense, blue gaze. “I don’t care to see Darkness.”

  “She’s part of Rose,” the princess said. “Isn’t part better than nothing?”

  The hardness of Kara’s expression washed away, leaving behind sadness and grief. “I don’t know,” she said softly. Her brows furrowed. “I suppose it is.”

  “My mother tried to kill you,” Princess Myrinne reminded her. “Erastos told her to. I’m sure of it. I didn’t realize until I found out Erastos was alive, but now that I know…well, I know my mother. She did it because he asked her to.”

  Kara nodded. “When I met Erastos the first time, he seemed…uneasy.”

  “For the same reason I was,” Princess Myrinne said. “You’re a wildcard.”

  “Always,” Kara bragged. “But I’m surprised you even know that term.”

  Princess Myrinne laughed, “I’ve been working on my modern lingo.”

  Kara snorted at that. “So, Erastos is afraid of me. What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know for sure,” Princess Myrinne said, “but I think it means you could change things.” Her pale blue eyes shifted away, a sudden distance in them. “Before I destroyed the prophecies, I used to read the notes in the margins—left by former high priests. There was one note in particular that always bothered me. The other notes were written like notes—about the prophecies—but this one used the language of the prophecies, and it said, ‘The Wolf’s howl shall call the Dragon home.’”

  That flicker of hope warmed Kara’s chest again. “The Dragon is Rose?”

  “Most high priests dismissed it,” Princess Myrinne warned. “It was only a note, after all. It wasn’t part of the prophecy itself. But I always wondered: what if the one who wrote it had precognitive abilities? What if they knew something?”

  Kara’s chest rose and fell quickly. “You think I could bring Rose back?”

  “I don’t know,” Princess Myrinne said, “but it’s worth a try, isn’t it?”

  A sad, almost tearful smile broke across Kara’s face. “I’ll try anything.”

  The princess smiled at that. “Then, we need to find out where she is.”

  “I know where she is,” Kara confessed. “I’ve known the entire night.”

  “You what?!” the princess said. Her eyes narrowed. “You lying sack of…”

  “Yep,” Kara interrupted. “I’m going. Alone. I need you to cover for me.”

  Princess Myrinne scowled at her. “Of course you do.”

  “You did promise to kick Aaron’s ass,” Kara reminded her.

  Princess Myrinne’s eyebrows quirked up a little at that. “Yeah, all right.”

  “I know Erik will be upset,” Kara said with a sigh. “Tell him I’m sorry.”

  Princess Myrinne nodded. “The other vampires want you to betray her,” she said with a frown. “If this doesn’t work, that’s what they’ll expect you to do.”

  “Oh, I’ll betray someone,” Kara said, her eyes dark, “but it won’t be her.”

  Princess Myrinne’s frown deepened. “Even if it means the world ends?”

  “I’ve told you all already,” Kara said. “I’m not the hero. That was Rose.”

  Princess Myrinne nodded, accepting that. “Okay.”

  Kara opened the doors that led out of the basement—causing air to rush around them, as if it were being sucked upward. She hesitated by the door, caught off-guard by Princess Myrinne’s complicity. “You’re not going to argue with me?”

  The princess shrugged. “She’s my goddess. I’ll worship her, regardless.”

  Kara let out a soft laugh. “I guess we agree on something, after all.”

  25

  The Reign of Darkness

  Kara had never thought of any weather as particularly…apocalyptic before, but if she had, it would’ve been weather like tonight’s. Bolts of lightning streaked across the sky so frequently that it was never fully dark. Instead, the sky had taken on a surreal shade of violet—with dark gray funnels in the distance, where twisters and whirlwinds wreaked havoc on the earth. Even with supernatural strength and speed, moving in this kind of weather was exhausting. Every muscle in her body ached from walking against the wind, but s
he continued, anyway—stopping only to reorient herself in the low visibility of the storm. The military base wasn’t far.

  Kara hadn’t expected to see any humans out in this weather. Even Kara, with all of her enhanced senses, narrowly avoided injuries, as structures collapsed around her. But as she neared the base, she found herself dodging more and more bullets. She hid behind a tree, as she tried to use her senses to locate the shooters.

  She listened for their heartbeats, their breathing, and their movements—until she knew exactly where to find them. Then, in a blur of movement, she ran toward them. She found the soldiers in a building—with their guns set up to fire through the windows. She moved so quickly and quietly that none of the humans saw her coming. She managed to kill half of them before they even noticed her.

  By the time she reached the next group of humans—in another room—they’d sounded the alarms. Two of them attacked Kara, at once, but Kara gripped the handle of her battle-axe and swung the heavy weapon, her body twisting with it. The blade sliced through the first human easily. Then, Kara stepped back and shoved the handle of the battle-axe into the second human. When the second one hit the floor, she swung the blade into his head, before he could climb to his feet.

  Kara killed several more—using her battle-axe for the ones who charged at her, and her throwing knives for the ones who kept their distance. Her sensitive ears ached from the alarms, but she pushed the pain to the back of her mind and continued fighting, anyway. After last night, after all of the sadness she’d felt, she found it almost…cathartic to pour her aggression into a battle. This was the one thing she did well, after all. She made bad decisions, screwed up her relationships, and disappointed people, but at least she was reliable and competent during battle.

  Kara pulled up short, as she found the last room empty. She rushed over to the window, watching as humans fled from the building. Her brows furrowed, as she wondered why they’d brave such a brutal storm, rather than stay and fight.

  A wave of horror poured through her, as she remembered the sirens. All of that time, she’d assumed those alarms were meant to warn them that they were under attack, but now, she realized…they were warning them of something much worse. She leapt through the window and ran toward the trees, but it was too late.

  Kara heard a faint whistling sound—followed by a deafening explosion.

  For a moment, Kara saw nothing but light, as she hit the ground, feeling it quake beneath her knees. The light blinded her, and she squeezed her eyes shut, for a moment, until she could open them again. What she saw, then, stunned her.

  There were flames everywhere—all around her—and yet, somehow, they weren’t burning her. Somehow, she was safe. The flames surrounded her, pushing against some sort of invisible wall—yet, somehow, not breaking through. “Rose?”

  “Not quite.”

  Kara knew that voice—that warm, gentle voice. It was Rose’s voice. Yet, for all its similarities, it sounded totally different. Colder. Darker. More powerful.

  She turned slowly, blinking, as she found Darkness standing behind her.

  A second explosion rocked the area, and acting purely on instinct, Kara dropped to the ground and covered her head. She heard a scream somewhere—of a human who hadn’t made it far enough away. She heard the crackling of fire, all around her. Yet, somehow, she felt nothing—not even the heat of the fire.

  A few moments passed. Then, she heard Darkness call her name. “Kara.”

  Kara looked up, shocked to find a wall of shadows dancing around her, protecting her from the fire. Her wide, light blue eyes shifted from the shadows to the woman who looked eerily similar to her lover, and yet different, all at once.

  Darkness tilted her head to the side. “Kara, what are you doing here?”

  “I came for Rose,” Kara said breathlessly. “I need to speak with her.”

  “I’m afraid you’ve wasted your time,” Darkness sighed. “Rose is gone.”

  Kara climbed to her feet and took a step toward Darkness. She swayed a little on her feet, still disoriented from the explosion, but the shadows followed her as she moved, protecting her from the flames, no matter where she went. “I don’t believe you. Rose is still in there. I know she is. I know she can hear me.”

  A soft, bitter laugh escaped Darkness’s lips. “You’re in denial, Kara.”

  “I’m not,” Kara insisted. “I need to talk to the woman I love—to Rose.”

  Darkness sighed and turned away from her. She walked through the fire easily, shadows dancing around her, protecting her the way they’d protected Kara.

  Kara followed her, and somehow, those shadows continued to shield her from the flames, even as Darkness left her behind. The shadows didn’t dissipate until Kara was safe, away from the flames. She squinted, trying to see the shadowy creature in the darkness, and she chased after her, following her up a set of steps.

  The steps led into a tiny, block building—with nothing significant inside.

  “I was expecting a dark lair,” Kara said. “This is kind of boring, actually.”

  The creature actually laughed at that. It was a soft, warm laugh that made Kara’s stomach flip—because it sounded exactly like Rose. “Sorry to disappoint.”

  Kara watched, as the creature made her way over to the window to watch the storm outside. “So, this is where you’re doing it?” she said. “The apocalypse?”

  Again, she gave Kara that familiar laugh. “That’s not quite how it works.”

  Kara breathed out a pained sigh. The emotional turmoil inside her, each time she heard that familiar voice, was more than she could handle. “How, then?”

  Darkness turned to face Kara. “We’ll end this the way it started.”

  Lightning struck outside, briefly illuminating most of the room. But not where Darkness stood. That corner of the room remained dark—as dark as the shadows in her eyes. A rumble of thunder followed—its sound dark and ominous.

  “Yes, well,” Kara said, “there’s some debate about that.”

  The dark creature stepped forward, her shadows reaching out for Kara. “Oh, but you know the truth, don’t you?” she purred, her voice as soft as velvet. She expected Kara to step back, but Kara kept her feet planted in place, boldness and curiosity flashing in her intensely blue eyes. The creature reached out, taking Kara’s hand, shadows curling around Kara’s fingers. “You know how it started.”

  Kara stared at their joined hands, watching the icy shadows swirl around them. Then, she looked up, meeting Darkness’s unnerving gaze. “With you.”

  “Yes.”

  Kara pulled her hand from the creature’s grasp and stepped back. A gasp escaped her lips, as she fought to breathe through the panic seizing her chest. She couldn’t reconcile the sensation of Rose’s touch with this…goddess that had taken Rose from her. It hurt to even try. “Please,” she said breathlessly. She looked up, her eyes burning with tears. “Rose can’t be gone. Why else would you save me?”

  Darkness frowned at that. “Why else?” she repeated—her voice full of disbelief. “Do you think I care nothing for you? Do you think I would hurt you?”

  Kara shook her head, confused by that. “But you’re… You’re not Rose.”

  Darkness shook her head. “I thought you, of all people, would know.”

  “Would know what?” Kara asked softly, barely able to voice the words.

  Darkness turned away from her. “Forget it. Just leave,” she muttered, her voice tinged with despair. “The storm is worsening. You should take shelter.”

  Kara stared blankly at the shadowy goddess. “You’re planning to destroy the world,” she reminded her. “How is taking shelter going to save me from that?”

  Darkness glanced at her. She held out her hand toward Kara, but Kara instinctually took a step back. Darkness dropped her hand, pain flashing vividly across her face. Rose’s face. Kara couldn’t stand the sight of pain in Rose’s face. So, she stepped closer and nodded at Darkness’s hand, imploring her to try
again.

  A relieved smile pulled at one corner of Darkness’s lips, as she lifted her hand and touched Kara’s face. She brushed her thumb over Kara’s reddened skin.

  “The wind has battered your skin,” Darkness said. “I never wanted that.”

  Kara frowned at the creature. “You’re the one who created the storm.”

  “That’s not…” Darkness trailed off. “I never wanted it to hurt you.”

  “No,” Kara said, her tone clipped, “just everyone else on the planet.”

  “You don’t understand,” Darkness said with a sigh. “How could you?”

  Kara watched as the creature stepped back—distancing herself, yet again. She sensed Darkness’s pain in the same way she sensed Rose’s, and the realization that she’d hurt her, somehow, caused her stomach to tighten with guilt. She hadn’t meant to hurt her. She just wanted Rose back. She’d do anything to see her again.

  Kara fell to her knees—much like she’d done the night she’d met Rose. Kara placed her battle-axe on the ground, releasing it, and then rested her hands on her leather-clad thighs. She bent her head, her sleek, blue and black hair falling around her face. She didn’t move, didn’t speak. She simply waited for Darkness.

  Darkness frowned, baffled by this reaction. “Kara? What are you doing?”

  “Showing you the reverence you deserve,” Kara said, her voice cool and even. Her accent came through stronger than usual—influenced, perhaps, by the familiarity of the traditional behavior. She looked up, hesitantly, her intense, light blue eyes visible through the curtain of dark hair. “Because I know what you are.”

  Darkness closed her eyes and sighed, and even though she had her eyes closed, Kara still saw the sadness pass over her face. When she reopened her eyes, the shadows within them danced slower than usual—more like a dance of passion than one of destruction. She reached out, curling her fingers beneath Kara’s face and lifting it, until Kara’s piercing, ice-blue gaze met hers. The shadows danced over Kara’s skin, as well—cool and soft, like silk. “Please, stand,” Darkness said. “I’ve never cared for worship, anyway, but even if I had, I’d never ask it of you.”