Dark Requiem (The Darkling Trilogy, Book 3)

by A. D. Koboah

  He was drawn to me, but I did not know if he was drawn to me as I was now, or because he sometimes saw who I used to be. The amount of pain I had caused him in the past—not to mention the amount of pain he was in now—made me get rid of the skimpy clothes that had clearly tormented him when I first got to the mansion. I also began sleeping in the guest bedroom again. I awoke each night to that familiar panic whenever I opened my eyes and Avery was not beside me, but he was never far away.

  Alone during the agonising daylight hours, I could only think of those days we had spent together in the past and yearn for him.

  One night I awoke in the guest room long past sunset, automatically reaching for Avery only to find myself alone. That blind panic touched my heart. Then I heard a slow, strong heartbeat that could only belong to a vampire, somewhere outside the mansion. I quickly dressed and went to find him. He was sitting on his own in the field of flowers with his back to me, so far from the lights at the front of the mansion that he was almost hidden in the uncaring shadows. He was looking out into the night, no doubt lost in his thoughts and the sorrow in which he had been floundering for so long. I plumped myself down beside him, breaking him out of his reverie.

  “Have they gone off on their own again?” I asked, referring to Shadrach and Mallory.

  “I think Maryse is with them tonight.”

  “Hm. You think Shadrach and Mallory are getting it on?”

  He chuckled. “No. What they feel for one another is much deeper than that.”

  I was silent for a long moment and then spoke without thinking about what I was about to say.

  “I wish I had given my actions a bit more thought before I came here. I’ll bet it’s not easy having someone around who looks so much like Luna.”

  He stared at me in surprise, anguish flaring in his eyes at the mention of the name, along with an extremely complex melding of love, grief and guilt.

  “No, it wasn’t at first,” he said after a few moments. “After I fought with Luna in London during the twenties, I threw away every single painting and photograph of her. After she died all I wanted was to be able to see her face again. It became so I wasn’t even sure if I remembered her clearly. Although she’s gone and nothing can bring her back, I can at least see her every time I look at you. It is you I’m talking to now and you I’m with every night, but through you, I can at least see Luna’s face again.”

  “And I remind you of her in other ways.”

  “No, although your mind is like hers in its complexity. Your personalities are completely different.” He was staring steadfastly up at the sky, as if afraid to tear his gaze away from it. “Luna hid her sexuality, was terrified of it, in fact. You, on the other hand, wield yours like a machine gun and, I have to say, you almost brought me to my knees. But at times, you’ll say something and your tone—even your expression—is so much like hers it sends chills down my spine. It makes me wonder what Luna would have been like if her life had not been so traumatic. I’ll never know. But perhaps she would have been a little like you.”

  “Noisy, silly, reckless, irritating—”

  He faced me again.

  “Oh, I doubt anyone could be as annoying as you, Dallas.”

  He smiled and placed a hand against the side of my head. I leaned into his touch, feeling butterflies in my stomach. He gazed at me intently for a few moments, and it seemed he was going to do more than just that hand against my head. Then he looked away and let his hand fall from my face. He was silent, his brow creased, that anguish in his eyes. It was a while before he spoke.

  “It would be nice to think she would have been happy and as utterly fearless as you are about everything. Free, I think that’s the main difference. You’re free in ways Luna never was. But I’ll never know.”

  He was silent, lost in his thoughts, the grief that had been cleaved to him for so long appearing to overcome him.

  I wanted to lean over and kiss him on the cheek to draw his attention away from his doleful thoughts, but I didn’t.

  “I hate seeing you so unhappy, Avery. Are you telling me that in all these decades, you’ve never been with anyone else?”

  “There have been other women. But no one will ever come close to Luna.”

  “But she’s been gone for so long. And you’re just so unhappy. It hurts me to see it. It hurts Mallory. Why have you never let anyone in?”

  He was silent for a long moment. Then he sighed and looked back up at the night sky.

  “Because...” He sighed again. “Because she promised she would always find her way back to me. She promised me, and whatever else she might have done, she always kept her promises. I just know if I wait long enough, she’ll come back.”

  I bit my lip and remained silent. I desperately wanted to tell him I had kept my promise. I was here now and he would never have to be alone again. But the dream I’d had of myself in that coffin prevented me from saying anything. In the end all I did was place a hand briefly on his arm. I got to my feet.

  “I think Mallory and Shadrach are almost home.”

  I took a few steps away from him only to turn around to find his gaze on me as I had expected.

  “Now why are you watching me walk away, Avery? You know you can’t handle all of this.” I brought up my hand to gesture from my head to my toes.

  He smiled. “I can see I’m going to regret telling you that.”

  “Damn straight.” I flicked my hair over my shoulder before I turned and walked—slowly—toward the gates. I knew his gaze stayed on me long after I joined Mallory and Shadrach when they materialised at the gates.

  Chapter 23

  Akan

  The next few weeks passed uneventfully for Akan. Although the child goddess was no longer in any immediate danger, Akan worried about her and sleep was fleeting.

  He saw her at the temple weekly and at times she appeared to be a child again, her words timid and halting, painfully overwhelmed and confused by what was happening around her. At other times, she was as she had been the day the ekniwa ended, clear and concise, possessing knowledge and prescience beyond her years. Akan watched, his stomach tied in knots, whilst she played a stealthy game of cat and mouse with Mutata as he plotted to be rid of her.

  One night sleep remained stubbornly out of reach, so Akan left his home and ventured into the night. Before long, he found himself at the secret entrance to the temple beneath the mournful trees. He stood outside staring up at the clear, coal black sky, his mind and emotions churning with worry for the child, the two-headed snake restless and ill at ease. That was when he heard a noise from within the tunnel. He darted out of sight behind the trees and stood watching the tunnel entrance.

  Topa stepped out into the night. She came to a stop and peered around her. She squealed in surprise when Akan appeared out of the shadows to her side.

  “Th-the goddess. She told me you would be here. She wants to see you.”

  He sighed, the unease of the past few weeks lifting. He nodded and followed Topa into the temple.

  The saviour of the Enwa people was sitting cross-legged on the gold platform, two torches by the altar keeping the darkness from consuming her. She wore a simple violet robe instead of the lavish ceremonial robes adorned with gold, her small frame dwarfed by the mammoth golden altar behind her. Her thin face was sallow from weeks spent within the temple, her hair pulled atop her head in a simple bun.

  Her face lit with a smile when Akan entered and he saw nothing of the cool hardness he had observed over the past few weeks. Just the face of the child he had, without ever consciously being aware of it, devoted his life to the moment he entered the temple that day and saw her there.

  Topa scurried to one of the corners of the temple and was almost hidden in the shadows. Jow merely gave Akan a disapproving stare when he entered, then proceeded as if she was not aware of his presence.

  Akan approached the altar, battling to keep back tears. When he reached the child goddess he knelt before her. The difference between
the first time he had knelt before her and now was difficult to forget.

  A few moments later, Akan felt her hand on his head. She kept it there only briefly, for they both knew that in some ways, the child he had come upon when he entered the temple all those weeks ago and cradled in his arms during those nightmarish nights whilst she screamed in pain, was dead. To the world beyond the temple doors, she was the goddess, and even that small touch spoke a thousand words of her gratitude to him for saving her life.

  He straightened and settled himself into a sitting position before her. He was a warrior, a taciturn man by nature. Speaking what was in his heart did not come easy to him, but he found himself saying more than he would have said to anyone but the saviour of the Enwa people.

  “There are not many things I have ever been afraid of in my life, but those nights of the ekniwa, I was so frightened you would not live or that...that—”

  “I would not have, if not for you. It was what the kind spirits told me over and over, that you risked your life, the lives of those you love, to save mine. I...I saw so many things, terrible things and beings that...” She faltered to a stop, her eyes alight with disquiet. A tremor passed through her small frame. “B-but there were some who pitied me. I can still communicate with them sometimes and they help me, tell me things I should say and do.”

  “I have never heard of anyone who has survived the ekniwa being able to communicate with the spirits once it has ended. Are you sure the spirits you still see can be trusted?” Akan said.

  “I have no choice. But they woke me to tell me you were waiting outside the temple. So they must be good.”

  “I hope that is so.” He drew in a breath. “Goddess, where did Mutata find you? What was your life like before you came here?”

  Her face creased into a portrait of pain and it seemed as if her breath caught in her chest.

  “I do not remember,” she said after a few moments. “I remember little things, like my mother. I remember always being hungry and my mother crying because life was so hard. I remember my father. His hands, I remember his hands. And also a boy. He used to carry me everywhere. Then all I remember is waking to see Mutata and some other men. I remember thinking Mutata must be a king because I had never seen such clothes. And the gold, I had never seen gold before then. There was so much of it around his neck, and the amount of gold he gave to the other men! It was dark, the moon hidden behind clouds, but I could still see smoke in the distance, blacker than the night, rising into the sky.”

  “It is all you remember?”

  She nodded. “Mutata said I am a divine being, I do not have a mother and father, for I was not born to a man or woman. I did not exist before he found me.”

  Akan held in a sigh, one of deep sorrow, careful to conceal the other emotion her tale had evoked. Anger. He could imagine all too well what the child could not remember. Whether the memory block was natural or one Mutata had used medicines to produce, he was sure it hid the slaughter of her family.

  He remained for a short time but left long before dawn as he did not want to keep the child goddess awake for too long. Her days were always long, the verbal battles with Mutata exhausting. So he left her looking small in the cavernous temple, drowned by the lilac robe she wore.

  He returned home and lay beside his wife. Tanu was tucked in her arms, the way they had slept since the child was born. He stared at his son for a long moment, his thoughts returning to the living idol in the temple who had only the sombre presence of the fearful attendants. He also thought about how his visit appeared to have lifted her spirits. He was able to fall asleep that night and slept deeply, the first time he had slept properly since he laid eyes on the goddess.

  Chapter 24

  A few nights later, although I still felt weak, Avery suggested we go out to a restaurant. I wore a short red dress and pumps. For the first time in weeks I tonged my hair so it hung in loose waves down my back, and wore make-up. I admired my reflection in the mirror and smiled at what I saw. My past memories as a slave, along with the crippling self-loathing which had made me feel as if I had to hide my beauty, still lurked on the edges of my psyche. But I was fortunate enough to be living in a different time. I did not have to fear anyone or anything, especially now. I could walk down the street in this dress and know that although I attracted the attention of males of all races, ages and backgrounds, my body was my own. I smiled at my reflection, revelling in the freedom and relative safety of the world I lived in now. Something I had not been able to do in the past.

  When I went downstairs, Avery was waiting outside by the car, staring out into the night, his hand resting against his jaw; his shoulders slumped with the weight of his burdens. He turned and made to move to the car door when I stepped outside.

  “At last. I thought I was going to have to come up there and drag you away from that mirror...”

  His words trailed away and he came to a stop when his gaze fell on me. He just stared in awe for a few long seconds before he smiled, although sadness still hung in his eyes. Perhaps it even deepened.

  “You look beautiful.”

  I beamed at him. “Thank you, Avery.”

  We entered the car and drove off into the night.

  When we got to the restaurant it was to a hive of noise and activity. I stared around at the people leaving and entering the restaurant, joy in my heart. All eyes naturally gravitated to me and Avery and I noted the admiring glances—not to mention a few jealous glares—from some of the females. I basked in it. In the past, whenever we left the mansion I’d had to pretend I was Avery’s slave or his servant. In this time I did not have to be fearful of taking his hand, as I did now. And he did not have to hide the adoration in his eyes when he turned to me, or stop himself from brushing the hair away from my face, his fingers lingering against my cheek. He did, however, remove that hand from my cheek a few moments later and looked away from me, guilt in his eyes. Yet when his cell phone rang a moment later, he clung to my hand before reluctantly letting it go. He moved a few yards away and answered the call.

  I gazed up at the enigmatic night, at the pregnant moon adorned with pearly, white clouds. It swam in and out of focus as my vision danced between clarity and dense gloom. I was reminded of my weakening body and how close it sometimes seemed I was to being severed from it. It appeared my sojourn on Earth would be a brief one this time, but I refused to let that take away the joy I felt this night. I would relish every single moment I had with Avery until the time came for me to leave this world.

  I was still staring up at the moon, a smile on my lips, when someone spoke behind me.

  “Excuse me, m’am.”

  I turned around to find a little boy, of no more than seven years of age, standing directly behind me. He had dark, lustrous, wavy hair that hung to his shoulders, porcelain skin, and wore a sombre looking black suit and tie. When I first turned around his wide, dark eyes had been trained intently on me, his small pink lips pressed together in a thin line. His expression changed the moment I faced him and was replaced with one of alarm. I felt a rush of warmth and a motherly instinct to protect him.

  “Aww, you are just the cutest thing. And what an adorable little suit.” The instinct to protect him was so strong I moved to him, bringing my hand to his cheek. “Are you okay, sweetie?”

  “No, I’m lost. I can’t find my mummy.” There was something mocking about the way he said those words, but all I could focus on was how cute and vulnerable he appeared to be.

  “Oh, you poor thing.”

  I picked him up and held him to me, even though he was a little too big to be carried. There was a little smug smile on his lips now, the anguish gone.

  “Don’t worry, honey. We’ll find your mother.”

  I looked around to see if I could find someone who looked as if she could be his mother. Avery had finished his phone conversation by then.

  “Thank you,” the little boy said.

  He placed a kiss on my cheek whilst one arm wound around m
y neck, the other resting on the opening of my dress, gently stroking my skin.

  Avery was moving toward me when he came to an abrupt stop, his eyes widening in shock. Abject fear curled around his mouth when he saw the little boy in my arms.

  “Dallas, put him down!”

  “Why?” I stared at him aghast. “You think I’m going to eat him? He’s just a child, Avery!”

  “Not quite,” the little boy replied.

  I turned to him. His expression had changed once more, the smug smile gone, a ring of steel in his dark eyes as he stared at me. It made my insides go cold.

  “Please, Dallas. Just put him—”

  I didn’t need Avery to tell me twice. I put the boy down and stared at him as Avery moved to my side and pulled me to him.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  The boy merely smiled that smug smile of his. Then he turned and moved toward the restaurant entrance. When we didn’t follow, he faced us again.

  “Do not underestimate me on account of my size.” He directed his words to Avery and they rang with barely suppressed fury, his eyes burning with an intensity that chilled me. “I may look like a child, but my mental powers far exceed even that of your little witch—as she is now anyway—so come along and do not try my patience.”

  “Let Dallas go home,” Avery said.

  The boy’s smile was withering this time. He turned and moved toward the entrance, wagging his finger at Avery.