Death Before Daylight

by Shannon A. Thompson

  “Why’d you do it?”

  His question was the only thing I heard. When I looked at him, his fingers were tangled in his hair, his shoulders were slumped, and his eyes—for once—weren’t on me. He stared at the bed sheets instead, and his whisper was barely audible when he repeated the question. His fingers tightened in his hair.

  “It wasn’t for him.” I thought of Bracke and Pierce and Luthicer, but I mainly thought of Camille and Eu, the two who had died for my sake. Even when I did it, I knew it wasn’t for Eric. It was never for Eric. It was for the Dark, for the people who finally explained my identity and protected it with their lives. My life was the only way I could give them back theirs, and I had failed. I was alive, and so was Darthon.

  “You don’t want to be one of us that badly?” Darthon’s hiss was more of a whimper.

  I searched his neck, the only part of his body that was exposed. I yearned to grab his collared shirt and pull it down. I wanted to see if he was scarred, too.

  “I’ll never be one of you,” I said. Even if I had to die, I wouldn’t become a light. Especially if it meant the Dark’s bloodline had to die. The Light wasn’t my family. Even if my biological family had been born into it, they had died trying to escape, and so would I. They ran for a reason. They died for a reason. I knew that now.

  “Don’t do that again,” Darthon said.

  I bit my lip, refusing to speak.

  “It’s not worth it,” he said, opening his mouth to close it, to open it again. “Do you know what Eric would think?”

  “It wasn’t for him,” I snapped, but Darthon’s silence brought on the thoughts.

  Eric’s mother had killed herself. He told me how Camille had accused him of trying the same, how it had torn him apart, how much he was against suicide. But mine was different. It wasn’t out of depression. It was out of desperation. Mine was different.

  “I don’t care what it was for,” Darthon said. “It’s not worth it. If you want to kill me—”

  “I do.”

  Darthon’s face flushed. “Then, do it in the human realm.”

  Realm—like everything was separated.

  “Just don’t kill yourself,” he struggled with his words, choking on them as he spit them out, one by one. “You can’t die anyway.”

  “That doesn’t make sense—”

  “It will,” he said it like he didn’t understand it either, but he promised that he would figure it out.

  “And when it does?”

  “I’ll kill Eric.”

  I swallowed.

  “Until then,” he paused as he stood up, “I’ll send you back, but only if you promise.”

  I knew what he was saying. He wanted me to promise to stay alive. “I can’t do that.”

  “I’ll let Eric go, too,” he said, spinning around to face me. His angular face softened, and for a moment, I wondered what he looked like as a child. “I’ll send you both back—alive.”

  Eric.

  The images of his bloody body flooded my mind, crushed my insides, reminded me of how alive I actually was, how alive he was.

  “You’ll let him go?”

  Darthon nodded without hesitation. “If you change your mind about becoming a full light,” he began, “come back to me.”

  Before I could ask what he meant, the door opened, and Fudicia walked in. The half-breed followed. He was carrying Eric, and when he dropped Eric on the ground, I leapt from the bed only to land by Eric’s side.

  “Eric,” I gasped his name.

  His shallow breathing was unnerving. While most of his injuries were half-healed, dried blood stained his skin. Like paint, separated shades of browns and reds mixed with his bluish bruises. I doubted I would ever be able to paint again.

  “He’s not dead, Jess—”

  “That doesn’t make it better,” I snapped, digging my nails into the pieces of his shirt that had remained intact. “What the hell is your problem?”

  If I had lost my energy before, it was back now. I was ready to fight again.

  Fudicia and the half-breed stepped between us like they knew what I was thinking.

  I looked over their faces, young, yet old at the same time. The indentions of their expressions, the determination imbedded in their skin, told me they weren’t afraid of hurting me anymore. They would if I tried anything again. Darthon was better off hurt than dead.

  “We’ll continue protecting you,” Fudicia said.

  “You’ve done enough.” I wanted to scream, but my words were calm. I was too focused on Eric.

  “Wake up,” I coaxed, attempting to reach his unconscious mind. “Wake up.”

  His eyelashes didn’t even flutter.

  “So, Jess,” Darthon was next to me when he spoke, somehow moving past his guards without a fight. “Are you ready to go home?”

  I glared at him. “I don’t see why you’re doing this.”

  “I have my reasons.”

  When he laid his hand on my shoulder, I tried to move away, but his fingers dug into my skin. “You can’t get away from this,” he whispered, only inches away from me. “Trust me,” he paused, “I tried.”

  And then, I was gone.

  ***

  I was wrapped in the flames of the sudden hell Darthon created. The heat tore at my skin, my face, my hair, and my breath was stolen by the wind. As soon as I believed I would burn to death, the flames flipped into frigid water.

  My fingers tightened, and cloth ripped beneath my touch. Eric. His faint heartbeat flickered, and I reached out until I grasped his shirt again. It didn’t tear this time. I pulled, yanking myself more toward him than him toward me, and we spun.

  I gasped as my head broke the surface of the river, and my hair tangled around my neck. I tried to scream, but the air escaped as a whimper. My telepathic line was my only hope. “Eric.” Every section of my mind screeched. If he didn’t wake up, he would drown, and I would drown with him if I didn’t get him up. The Dark needed him.

  I dove back down. When my feet skimmed the riverbed, I kicked to prevent my ankles from sinking into the mud. Grasping Eric’s shirt, I attempted to swim up, but I couldn’t tell if we had budged. The water was moving too fast.

  With one last shove, I broke the surface as thunder crashed above us. Even the surface was drowning with rain. “Eric,” I shouted again, but the wind shouted over me.

  Another wave smashed into my ribs, and I dropped into the river again, my body crushing into the muddy ground below. My hands searched the bottom, my eyes opened without need, and my body shook with panic. After everything we survived, we were going to drown. But I wouldn’t accept it until we did.

  I pushed my way through the water and latched onto a branch. Before I could pull, it pulled me.

  “Jess.” The sudden voice came from the branch before I realized it wasn’t a branch at all. It was a person—a boy—and Darthon flashed in front of my vision.

  I shoved him away. “Let me go.”

  But he didn’t. He grabbed me again. “It’s me,” he said. “Jess, it’s me.”

  The boy’s green eyes pierced through the brilliant lightning, and my fingers dug into his arms. “Jonathon.” Even though he was a shade, his human name came first.

  “You’re okay,” he said as I spun toward the river.

  Three men lunged into the water.

  Urte and Bracke’s hair melted into the blackness, but Luthicer was the glowing angel who yanked Eric’s body out of the water. As soon as the elder picked Eric up, Luthicer laid him on the shore. Eric wasn’t breathing. Urte knelt down, breathed air into his lungs, and pushed on his chest. Bracke barked orders, but I couldn’t hear anything except for Pierce.

  “You’re okay now,” he kept repeating. “You both are.”

  19

  Eric

  It was a familiar scene. Bright, buzzing, florescent lights. Feet tapping the ground. Heavy words masked with low whispers. Even before I opened my eyes, I knew I was in a hospital. I only prayed it was in t
he shelter instead of a human one.

  I shuddered as my eyes adjusted to the brightness. The moist air was cold, and the bed beneath me was warm from my body heat. It was soft. I had almost forgotten what it was like to wake up on a mattress instead of a stone floor.

  “Eric.” The man’s voice was as familiar as his ice-blue eyes. “You’re awake.”

  The last time I had heard that phrase my enemy had spoken it. This time, it was my father.

  “Hey,” I croaked out the word.

  My elbows propped the rest of my body up. That’s when I saw myself. My arms were torn, and even though my chest was wrapped, blue bruises pushed over the sides. The only difference from the Light realm was the rest of my skin. It wasn’t covered in dried blood. Someone had cleaned me.

  “How are you feeling?” The nurse spoke this time. I hadn’t even noticed her, but I did notice the old walls. We were underground. The Dark’s shelter was my hospital this time.

  “I feel—” I paused as I moved, my sore muscles inching around, “better.”

  My father waved her away, and she obeyed because she had to. He held the authority now. Not Darthon.

  “You’ll heal faster now than you did from your car wreck,” he said as she left the room. “We found you before any humans did.”

  I sighed. If humans had found me, I would’ve been in the hospital for days. Now, I would be fully healed in that time.

  My mind spun, but I drowned out my thoughts and leaned back, tracing the dark ceiling before I closed my eyes. I breathed in the scent of the shelter, the thick musk of the earth we took safety in. I had never noticed the smell until now. Correction—I had never taken the time to notice it.

  “You can tell we are underground,” I whispered.

  My father didn’t respond.

  I opened my eyes to make sure he was still there, and he was, sitting in a chair by my bedside. “I wonder—” I stopped myself from telling him what I was thinking. What else hadn’t I noticed? What else had brushed past me during my training days? Were there other parts I hadn’t smelled, or touched, or felt? I couldn’t believe I had ever been alive at all.

  When my dad finally spoke, he said the last thing I thought he would say, “It’s going to be hard returning to your normal life.” He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. “It always is after something catastrophic. Take your time.”

  “Catastrophic?” I repeated the word like I had never heard it before. Was the Light realm catastrophic? It soaked into me just like my own blood had. But that wasn’t the worst part.

  A memory. A problem. Something that had been said. A thing that had happened. I wasn’t sure I could remember, but it lingered like my injuries, pushed against my skull like a migraine.

  I shivered.

  “Jess is all right,” my father guessed what I was thinking.

  Jessica.

  Her name struck me.

  Stay away from Jessica. It was Darthon’s deal—his orders—his face was melding right in front of me, but it tore apart when I breathed her name, “Jessica.” I sat up, looking around the room for her, but we were alone. “Where is she? What did Darthon do to her?”

  “Relax.” It sounded like an order. “There was barely a scratch on her.”

  “What?” I couldn’t believe it. “She wasn’t hurt?”

  “She was a little delirious when we found you,” he admitted. “Other than that, she was the same as she was when you were kidnapped.”

  The same. Darthon hadn’t hurt her at all. Not a single bit. He had kept his word, and now, I had to keep mine.

  It couldn’t be true.

  Darthon’s deal had to be a dream, a fluke in my memories, an illusion brought on by torture. After all, I had been killed—hadn’t I?—and I was unconscious. I didn’t even know how long I had been out.

  “What day is it?”

  “You were gone for three days.” That was it.

  My father’s face twisted into a wrinkled frown. “We tried so hard—so, so hard—to get you both out, but we couldn’t even reach you. It was impossible.”

  “Dad.” I stopped him. “This isn’t your fault.”

  “We should’ve been able to do something—”

  I shook my head. “I couldn’t even do anything.” Not there. Not in that realm.

  “How are you alive?” he asked, but his words stuttered out.

  He knew what I did. Shades died in the Light realm. Even Camille—a half-breed—succumbed to their power. I shouldn’t have stood a chance. I knew that when Darthon took us.

  “I—I don’t know.”

  Before he could ask another question, a knocking broke through our conversation. A teenage boy walked in, and his green eyes locked onto mine. His grin almost broke his face.

  “You’re all right,” Pierce said it like he would rush across the room, but he leaned against the wall. “You looked horrible last night.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Well, you did.” Pierce’s voice cracked, only calming when he faced my father. “My dad wants to talk to you, Bracke.”

  My father stood up. “Where is he?”

  “The meeting room.”

  He walked to the exit, only to turn around and look at me once more. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

  “I know.”

  When he spun away, it wasn’t quick enough. I saw the mist in his eyes, the deepening of his wrinkles as he fought back his tears. My dad—the man I had only seen cry once—was about to cry again.

  My chest tightened.

  “You’ll get to go home tonight,” Pierce said and broke up my thoughts. “The nurses said you’re healing faster than any shade they’ve seen before.”

  “But—” I gestured to myself. “I’m human.”

  He pointed to my arm. An I.V. was in my vein. “It pumps Dark energy into your bloodstream,” he said. “Only the latest and greatest by Luthicer.”

  The elder I once hated had somehow become a friend. “That guy is a genius.” But I remembered his daughter, Jada, and how she came to us the night we left. All my memories were slowly creeping in with the medicine.

  “So, how was it?” Pierce didn’t hold back. “What was the realm like?”

  “I don’t know.” I raised my hand to rub my head, but I stopped when the I.V. pulled. It stung. “I was unconscious most of the time.”

  “You and Jess both.” Her name. “Neither one of you will tell me.”

  “Where is she?” I asked, fighting the urge to pull out the medicine so I could check on her myself. “Is she okay? What did she say?”

  “Nothing.” Pierce frowned for the first time since entering the room. “She’s pretty upset about the whole thing. Had to fight just to keep her out of here. She wouldn’t even let the nurses look at her.”

  “But she’s okay?” I half-expected them to be lying. “She’s not hurt at all?”

  “Not like you. Just a few scrapes,” Pierce seconded my father’s story. “But it doesn’t seem right.”

  “As long as she’s okay,” I interrupted.

  “But why would Darthon hurt you and not touch her—”

  Darthon.

  His face formed in my memory. As clear as Pierce sat in front of me, I saw him. The brown hair and eyes to match. Robb McLain.

  “I know—” who Darthon is.

  The last words didn’t slide off my tongue. I choked on them. My throat burned where Robb had grabbed me, where Darthon had placed the illusion on my skin, the one I had agreed to.

  “I know—” I tried to speak again. Robb McLain is Darthon. Robb is Darthon. Darthon. I know who he is.

  Not a single word came out.

  The illusion was real. I couldn’t tell them. I couldn’t speak.

  “Eric?”

  “Jonathon.” I only used his human name to warn him. “Something—” isn’t right with me.

  There it was again. The burning on my throat, the spell in my blood. The medicine was acid. I yanked it out.

  Pierce l
eapt up. “Eric—”

  “I’m fine,” I stuttered, unable to look at him as I realized the truth. A lie had escaped me, but the truth was impossible to explain. Darthon was controlling me.

  “Eric?”

  Her voice was the only reason I didn’t panic.

  Jessica stood in the doorway. Her curly hair was pulled back, causing her blue eyes to look wider than usual, and her cheeks flushed when I met her gaze. She rushed across the room before I could muster a word.

  Unlike the others, she wasn’t afraid of my injuries. She touched me like she always had, dug her nails against her palm like I always hated. I grabbed her hand to stop her from doing it. Her skin was soft.

  “Sorry,” she muttered, knowing what she had done, but her face lit up. “How are you? Are you okay? Have you eaten yet?”

  I laid my palm on her face and dragged my thumb over her cheekbone. “Stop worrying about me,” I said. “How are you?”

  She bit her lip before she said, “I’m really happy you’re okay.” She was still worrying about me, still refusing to listen to me. As much as it bothered me, it reminded me of the reasons I loved her. And she was right in front of me again.

  “I’m fine, if anyone was wondering,” Pierce spoke up. “Other than being ignored, of course.”

  Jessica laughed, and it was the sweetest sound I had ever heard.

  “Shut up, Jonathon,” she spoke through her giggles, but she wiped away the tears that escaped her eyes. I wondered if she was crying out of happiness, relief, or fear. I wanted to know.

  “Scorn me for worrying about you two,” Pierce continued sarcastically. “It’s not like I’m your guard or best friend or anything like that.”

  She stuck her tongue out at him, and he stuck his tongue out back. Like children, they giggled. Like an adult, I watched. But Jessica’s focus was back to me, and I knew she heard my silence over Pierce’s voice.

  “Eric—”

  “I’m okay,” I said before she could question me, and I pulled her against my chest before she could look at my face and know I had lied. “I’m glad you’re okay,” I whispered against her forehead before I kissed it. She tensed against me.