Darkshine

by R. D. Vallier

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The mold stain on the motel ceiling looked like a skull made of broccoli, and I had been staring at it for an hour. The nightmare that had woken me lingered—chaotic images of sunlight slashing Delano apart, as violently as an axe through lilies. Orin snored softly in a pile of blankets on the floor to my left, the six-inch blade tucked against his side. I watched his shoulder rise and fall beside the bed, his chin bent, eyes buried in the crook of his arm. The sun has set, I thought idly to myself, and for some reason felt on overwhelming sense of sadness.

  The heater groaned beneath the window, straining to fight off the cold. I pushed away the sheets and padded around the room, everything wan and sallow in the dim bathroom light. I peeked into the closet, the bathroom, the rust-stained shower, expecting to find Delano's smirk, or darkness coiling along the floor like mist. Instead I found empty spaces and static shadows. But that was good, wasn't it? What girl wanted a shadowman lurking around her bed while she dreamed?

  The neighbor's television jabbered through the thin motel walls. A shadow fluttered in the corner of my eye. I wheeled around to face the door and found a moth crawling along the jamb. I went to the window and cracked open the curtain.

  Delano sat on a curb in the motel parking lot across from the closed office. He looked as if he had just gotten off a catering shift, in his black pants and white button-down, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. A scrawny mongrel stood in front of him, staring intently at his hands. Even in the dim, yellow glow of the ZOOM ZOOM MOTOR INN's electric marquee (AAA & Third Night Always Free!), it was obviously Delano. Shadows coiled around his ankles like dry ice.

  The only way faeries can survive is if the darklings are eliminated.

  I gnawed on my thumbnail. Orin's statement stood out in my memory like a piano slightly off key. I didn't believe he had lied, yet something seemed hidden just the same.

  Delano snapped something thin in his hands and tossed it to the dog's feet. The dog licked the pavement, and a smile touched my lips. I grabbed my overcoat off the dresser and—

  And what the hell am I doing? Am I seriously about to go to him?

  I needed to wake Orin, have him chase Delano out of our lives for my own protection. I went to his pile of blankets, then stopped, staring down at his mess of seashore hair. I had yet to experience Delano's supposed evil. Maybe Orin was mistaken. I turned back to the window. Maybe what I needed was Delano beside me, whispering the secrets Orin refused to tell me into my ear. My folded ear. My folded ear like his.

  The overcoat bunched in my fists. No. Orin's job is to protect me. I needed Delano gone, to know the night was safe to wander.

  I scowled. No. That was my mother's influence. I did not need a man to guide my life. Plus, what good was Orin's protection if he lured me into other dangers? I sighed, frustrated. I needed to ask Delano what was real and ... No. He was darkness manifested, surely brimmed with lies. I needed ... Dammit! I had no idea what I needed. But I'd never figure it out acting indecisive in a dank motel room.

  I buttoned the overcoat over my pajama shirt—the polar bears permanently stained from grime and bad memories but blessedly clean. I couldn't find my pants in the dark and didn't want to risk waking Orin with the overhead light. Fortunately, the overcoat covered me to my knees. I tucked my folding knife into the pocket, slid into my hiking boots without bothering to tie the laces, and tiptoed to the door. The deadbolt peeled back with a clack. I stiffened. Orin did not stir. I released a long, slow breath. This felt like betrayal, but why? I had made no promises to Orin. I was not his property or his lover or his wife.

  I squared my jaw and slipped outside. The moth followed and fluttered into the darkness.

  My heart pounded as I crossed the parking lot. My loose shoelaces whisked against my ankles. Shadows coiled around Delano, but he did not look in my direction. He didn't seem to notice me at all. My misty breaths abandoned my lungs for the night. My bare legs broke out in gooseflesh, and every hair stood on end. Ridiculously I blushed as I realized I hadn't shaved my legs in over a week.

  "Good evening, Miriam," Delano said in his murmuring owl voice. He tossed something to the dog, which ended up not being a dog but a thin, red fox. The fox snatched the tidbit with its mouth and gobbled it down. Delano peered up at me, smirking. The flatness on the right side of his irises had increased, skimming his pupils. "Have a pleasant conversation with Orin earlier?"

  I crossed my arms over my chest. "Wanted to gloat, I see."

  Delano chuckled, deep and low. "Not at all. I merely want what you do," he said. "For you to realize where, and with who, you belong."

  I snorted. "What makes you think I care about your wants?"

  "Considering you fled from me earlier as if I was the devil himself, and now you come to me willingly?" His eyes slid up my body. He flashed a sexy little grin. "Half dressed, no less."

  "Maybe I'm just here to prove I'm not scared of you."

  "Good. You shouldn't be." The fox yipped and pawed his pant leg. I heard a fibrous snap as Delano broke something in his hand and tossed it. The fox snatched it in midair.

  I squinted in the dim, yellow light. "Are you feeding that fox a stick?"

  "No. A Slim Jim I bought at the 7-11." He patted the curb beside him. "Sit. Help me feed her. She's famished."

  I glanced over my shoulder to the motel room. To where Orin slept.

  Delano rolled his eyes. "Oh will you just sit. I could have snatched you from your bed if I wanted." His sexy grin returned. "Unless, of course, you are scared."

  "What are we, schoolchildren?" I said. Delano chuckled. I lifted an eyebrow, then cautiously sat beside him, folding my fuzzy legs to the side to prevent flashing the world. The fox darted off about ten feet and ran a nervous circle on the oil stained blacktop, her ears pricked.

  "It's okay sweetheart," Delano soothed. "She won't hurt you. She's a nice lady. Like you." He made a kissing sound and tossed the remaining stub of Slim Jim halfway between them. The fox slinked forward, ears back, and snatched the morsel. Delano took another Slim Jim from the shadows beside him, ripped open the plastic wrapper, and handed it to me.

  "Go ahead," he insisted.

  I broke off the tip and tossed it halfway. The fox slinked forward and gobbled it down.

  "Foxes are nocturnal beauties I enjoy year round," Delano said. "But since they don't hibernate, I feed them during the harsh months if they ask." I tossed another piece. The fox crept forward another foot and devoured it. "Slim Jims give them horrible gas," he added, "but I figure it helps warm them in their dens."

  I laughed. I couldn't help myself. Delano smiled.

  "So are these the night duties Orin says darklings are punished with?" I asked.

  "Orin doesn't know what he is talking about. He repeats everything the Realm tells him, like a mockingbird incapable of individual thought. And the Realm giving him a solo mission onto Earth proves he is a dangerous mockingbird indeed." Delano noticed the irritation on my face. He shrugged as if to say the truth is the truth.

  "Maybe you are jealous as Orin says, and trying to manipulate me out of vengeance."

  Delano snorted. "Merely listen to him. Orin rarely uses I or me, like all the faerie slaves. It is always we, us, the Realm." I bit my lip, unable to recall such details in Orin and I's conversations. "Besides, I am not being punished," Delano said. "I chose this life. All darklings did."

  "Why would anybody choose a life of cold loneliness?"

  "It wouldn't be lonely if the Realm adhered to their promises and responsibilities."

  I lifted my eyebrow. He motioned for me to feed the fox.

  "Earth is the Realm's child, born without caretakers," he said. "After her birth, some faeries believed it was the Realm's duty to care for her exactly as she was created. Others wanted to exploit Earth for their own personal gains. The faction favoring compassion eventually won, but unlike the Realm, night and winter energies sustain much of this planet's life and magic. A balance was needed. A g
uild of faeries volunteered to undertake these magics so Earth could flourish, sacrificing their light and warmth to serve the dark and cold. These darklings merged with Earth's darkness, quite literally, and vanished in daylight, forcing them from the Realm forever. And since new life cannot grow without warmth, they sacrificed their fertility, too. The Realm promised to replace darklings when they died with infants from preordained families. These infants were left as changelings for fifteen years to accustom them to Earth's ways, then were recollected and trained for their darkling duties. Which worked well. For a while.

  "The faction of protectors made up the majority of darkling volunteers, leaving the exploiting authoritarians unchecked in the Realm. These authoritarians have asserted themselves into positions of power and influence. They crave control, and not just in the Realm. Earth offers bountiful resources they want to exploit, but darklings are strong here and our night energies keep their light powers in check. Thus the Realm slaughtered darkling supporters and rewrote history. They lie to their people—their slaves—insisting darklings are evil and manipulative and will kill their children. The slaves are brainwashed to believe the Realm is pure, so they murder darklings for the greater good without thought or question."

  Delano leaned over and bit the Slim Jim. He chewed in silent contemplation, then continued: "Some faeries stationed on Earth now realize the Realm's despotism, and a rebellion has formed. The Realm cannot afford these freethinkers to spread their dissent. It will destabilize their base of power. Thus the Realm has begun restricting the number of faeries allowed to leave the Realm and shortened the duty rotations for those on Earth assignments, all to maintain control and unquestioning submission to authority. A takeover cannot be successful as long as day and night continue. If the Realm eliminates darklings, however, Earth's environment will destabilize. Night will turn to chaos. And they will conquer it all."

  Delano glanced at the moon and I realized it was the same oval-like shape as his irises. Do the eyes of darklings wax and wane?

  "I was the last of the intentional changelings. I was born revered, but accepted my birthright as a criminal. How could I not? Faeries inadvertently ready changelings for darkling life," Delano said. "We are accustomed to loneliness and have learned to survive being different. Earth culture teaches us freewill, so when the Realm rips it from us we rebel. That's what I did when the faeries brought me back. At first I thought I had found my true place and family. Like you. But I was wrong." He gestured to the night. "Here is where I belong."

  "Orin says darklings are prisoners, punished for treachery and negligence. How do I know you're not making this up?" I asked. "How do I know you are telling the truth?"

  Delano shrugged. "You don't."

  We sat in silence, the motel's electric marquee buzzing softly overhead. Two questions nagged me: Where do I belong? and Who is lying?

  The fox smacked its lips and yipped.

  "She likes you," Delano said.

  "I'm not sure," I said. The fox ran a tight circle several feet away.

  "She does. Watch." Delano cupped my hand in his—cold, cold—and placed the remaining Slim Jim in my open palm. We leaned forward, nearly cheek to cheek. The fox's ears pricked when he kissed the air.

  "Do not fear, pretty lady," Delano said.

  The fox slinked forward and snatched the Slim Jim, its lips tickling my hand. I gasped, delighted; Delano held me still. The fox finished her morsel, then licked my fingers. I smiled. Delano flipped his hand on top of mine, our palms down, fingers laced. I glanced at him from the corner of my eye—his slender nose and sensual lips, the tiny, triangular scar on his cheek. He smelled earthy, like clay soil after a rain.

  Delano placed my hand on the fox's head and leaned back. I scratched the fox—slowly, slowly—fingers in the fur, behind her black-tipped ears. She reminded me of Delano with her harvest moon fur, her black boots like shadows crawling up her legs. But is Delano like the fox? I wondered. Was he a hunter? A trickster? A predator with claws and fangs, deceptively hidden in a beautiful package?

  The fox leaned into my petting. "Oh wow oh wow oh wow," I whispered over and over. After a minute the fox shook her coat, then licked my hand and darted off into the streets. I hugged myself, watching where she had disappeared behind a Dumpster. Delano and I sat in silence for several minutes, my warmth fleeing to him freely. I realized I no longer feared him, and found that terrifying.

  Mist escaped my lips in a trembling ribbon. "I'm sorry I threw a rock at your head. And scratched you. And killed your moth."

  "You are forgiven," Delano said. "You are always forgiven."

  Tears pricked my eyes and I didn't know why. I held my breath to keep them from falling, then stood up and turned my face so he would not see. Delano stood up beside me, then handed me a package no wider than a saucer, wrapped neatly in newspaper.

  I rubbed my eyes with the cuff of my sleeve. "What is this?"

  "A gift I believe you will appreciate. Consider it my apology for a rude introduction."

  I didn't know what to say, so I joked to keep the tears away. "What? No ribbon and bows?"

  Delano tapped the top of the package with his forefinger. A slim shadow snaked off his skin and wrapped around the present, tying a bow with black, misting edges. It hummed against my fingers, like whispered secrets inside your ear. Beyond the motel's office an engine rumbled, then a flash of headlamps lit the driveway as a pickup truck rolled into the lot. The shadows coiling around Delano's feet sped into the surrounding darkness.

  A rotund man stepped out of the pickup truck, then heaved a bundle of newspapers from the bed and onto the stoop of the motel's office. He tipped us a small wave, then stopped mid-step, his eyes widening. He pulled a cell phone from his coat pocket and jumped back into the truck. Tires squealed as he peeled out into the street.

  "Did you recognize him?" Delano asked.

  I shook my head. "No. Why?"

  "Because he recognized you."

  I stiffened. I had assumed the man had reacted oddly to Delano, not myself. I followed Delano to the stack of newspapers the man had dropped, and gasped. My face was in the upper corner of the local gazette's front page. Sam's face was in a small square beside mine, sneering up at me with his six-shooter eyes. Gotcha, those loaded eyes said. Come out with your hands up.

  A light popped on in the back of the motel office, the living quarters for the owner. I darted to our motel room. The doorknob rattled uselessly in my hand. Shit. I had forgotten to take the key. I knocked on the door. "Orin," I called. "Orin!"

  The marquee brightened, as did the moon, the stars. The night lost some of its chill and my body flushed with warmth. I glanced over my shoulder.

  Delano was gone and a bell dinged as the motel owner opened the office door.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  I pounded on the door with my fist. "Orin!" I said, trying to sound urgent without waking up the whole ZOOM ZOOM MOTOR INN. "Orin!" I heard rustling behind the door and realized I still clenched Delano's gift. I shoved it into my overcoat pocket as the door creaked open.

  Orin rubbed his eye groggily. He was in a pair of tattered blue boxers, his hair puffed out like a dandelion. "What are you doing out here?"

  I pushed my way inside. "We gotta leave. I've been recognized."

  He squinted when I threw on the lights. "Huh? What are you talking about?"

  "The newspaper deliveryman recognized me and soon the motel owner will too," I said, tearing through the blankets. I found my pajama pants half tucked beneath Orin's pillow and yanked them on over my boots. "Trust me, okay? We need to leave, now."

  We collected our belongings in a mad haste. I shoved Delano's gift deep into my pack when Orin's back was turned, the shadowy bow still coiling at the edges. We fled the motel room in under two minutes, my shoelaces whipping my ankles as we scurried through the parking lot. The stack of newspapers had disappeared from the stoop, the office windows aglow. "We need to stay away from the main roads," Orin said. "Or else we
risk—"

  Police sirens squalled several blocks away. Orin grabbed my hand and bolted out the motel's back driveway. The sirens grew louder as we sprinted down the sulphur-lit street, past glowing gas stations and boarded up shops. Behind us, red and blue lights throbbed off the motel's walls as we sprinted around a corner, side by side like a pair of prey animals. My hands were two clenched fists and I imagined them throttling Sam's face for making me feel like a criminal. The backstreets gave way to low income suburbs, and back toward the ZOOM ZOOM MOTOR INN the police sirens wailed. My feet pounded the blacktop. My breasts ached beneath too-large clothing. I gulped in the crisp, night air. And out of nowhere, magic came.

  It wasn't a song as Orin had described—not exactly—but more like a whisper. As if the air was quietly introducing itself, making itself known. Help me flee, I thought, and the air obeyed. I didn't bounce as I believed Orin had when he flew across the pasture. Instead the air came beneath my feet and heaved. My arms flailed out, trying to find balance in the nothingness. The summoned air caught me before my feet struck the ground, then tossed me upward again.

  "Miriam!" Orin shouted.

  "It's as you showed me!" I squealed. We approached the end of a cul-de-sac, a house encroaching fast. I stepped, stepped, stepped up the air and over the rooftop, noticing a patch of shingles missing from its peak. I slid down the air into the backyard, hopped across the drained pool, bounced over the fence boards and into the empty lot beyond. I leapt toward the stars, arms gyrating, legs pumping as I soared up invisible stairs. Ten feet up. Twenty. Fifty. One hundred. I hardly heard Orin shout my name below as I spread my arms to embrace the moon. Thank you for this gift, I thought. The air parted and I slid down to the edge of the empty lot, landing gently on my knees in the dead winter weeds. Orin landed on the sidewalk beside me, his boot buckles jingling when he struck the pavement. He looked sallow beneath the street's sulphur lamppost, his eyes as wide as eggs.