Dark Becoming (An Ema Marx Novel Book 3)

by J. D. Brown

  He looked over his shoulder, the hint of a smile touching his lips. “Perhaps.”

  I scoffed. “Did you miss the Women’s Rights campaign in the 1900s? Because they totally won.”

  Jesu shrugged. “I realize you are not a delicate flower, Ema. It is one of the qualities I admire most about you. I guess I just did not think you would take offense to me wanting to protect you.”

  “I’m not offended. I’m just not used to men coming to my rescue. There hasn’t been a lot of men in my life, period. But come on, aside from the impending danger, you have to admit fighting together is a million times more fun. Tell me the idea of it doesn’t turn you on.”

  His brow furrowed.

  I grimaced. Shoot, why did I say that? I lowered my gaze. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “No.” Jesu faced me and took my chin between his forefinger and thumb, lifting my jaw so that I had no choice but to look him in the eyes—those bright green sad eyes. “No apologies. Do not concern yourself with our past right now. Just know that I have your back.”

  I pulled my lips between my teeth and shook my head. “No, you’re staying here with Maria.”

  Jesu scoffed. “You really think I would let you do this alone?”

  “I won’t be alone. I’ll have an entire army. Tancred, Nikolas—”

  “And me.”

  “No. I won’t let you.”

  “Are you going to stop me?”

  “Yes.”

  Jesu chuckled. “I dare you to try.”

  I narrowed my gaze. “Jesu, you can’t. How am I supposed to focus on killing Apollyon while worrying about you?”

  “Easy,” he said, hardening his tone. “Do not think about me.”

  “You’re kidding, right? Jesu, you’re all I think about.”

  “Then it is time you stopped.”

  What did that mean? I know we broke up, but it wasn’t because I didn’t love him. I couldn’t just turn off how I felt.

  “Ahem,” said a third voice.

  Jesu let go of my chin and we both faced the door.

  Brinnon stood just inside the threshold. “Dad’s looking for you two.”

  “You go on ahead,” I said to Jesu. “I need to use the bathroom first.”

  The guys disappeared into the weapons room. I waited until their footsteps faded, then I unstrapped the weapons from my body and raced out the door, to the dungeon. I had some unfinished business to straighten out before I rode off to battle.

  I remembered Brinnon mentioning the dungeon was located in the fourth wing. Still, it took some time before I found a door with stairs that led down instead of up. I descended into darkness without the faintest idea where the light switch might be, or if one even existed, so I left the door wide open, letting the hall light spill in. Jail cells became visible about midway down the stairs, and I knew I had the right place. The dungeon wasn’t very big. A total of six cells, three on each side, were all that made up the temporary prison. The old-fashioned metal bars were unexpected. Nikolas’ holding center in the valley employed vampyre-proof electric fence cages, but that proved not to be the case here in his castle. A vampyre could easily break out of these cells unscathed. I almost expected the room to be empty, forcing me to report an escape, but Jalmari was there, in the last cell on the right, seated with his back to the wall.

  Electric shock cuffs ringed Jalmari’s wrists and ankles, and were attached to the walls by a thick chain. He didn’t stir as I approached the front of his cell. He merely stared at the floor, his head hung low. Jalmari looked well for a prisoner. He wore a spotless white button-down shirt and his hair—which had gotten thicker since I last saw him—was clean and shiny. Sara must have given him a sponge bath and a new shirt. She was too kind.

  More disturbing, though, was the appearance of his hands and face. His features were immaculate. Healed without a single scar, as if nothing had ever happened. Jalmari lifted his gaze and my breath hitched at the sight of his eyes. The last time I saw him, his irises were a milky blue. Now, they were a pale green. He’s getting his sight back.

  The edge of his mouth curled in a grin. “Greetings, little mouse.”

  Great, we’re back to the derogatory nicknames. He really must be feeling better.

  Jalmari’s voice was a little scratchy, but still maintained every ounce of his usual pomp. “Have you come to end me, or just torment me?”

  “How well can you see?” I asked.

  He scoffed to the side. “Torment, then.”

  “I’m wearing a suit of armor right now. I’m about to go to war with your father.” I paused for a reaction. Jalmari stilled and his snide grin disappeared. He looked straight at me, but his gaze was unfocused. That told me everything I wanted to know about the current state of his vision. No wonder he hadn’t tried to escape yet. “It’s because of you that I’m going. Thanks to your help, I have a very powerful weapon to aid me.”

  He grinned at this. “So you found Hesiodos. Bravo. How is the old goat?”

  “You mean Leena’s father? He’s dead now. Lycaon commanded him to memorize the spell. We couldn’t have that.”

  Jalmari worked his jaw for a moment. “How did you find out? Did he tell you?”

  “No, but it wasn’t a difficult deduction. I told him what happened to Leena. He blamed you.”

  “I’m sure he did.”

  “You knew about him. You knew he would be able to read the code. You’re helping me.”

  “You’re a smart cookie to figure all that out on your own.”

  “Why?” I demanded. “You hate me. Why are you helping?”

  Jalmari glanced to the side. “I’ve had a lot of time to think. To re-prioritize.”

  “So killing me is no longer a priority.”

  He chuckled. “I never said that. Don’t think I won’t try again as soon as I get my vision back.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, you’re sitting in a jail cell.”

  “A temporary set-back.”

  I scoffed. “So what you’re saying is that killing your father is more important than killing me right now.”

  “Precisely.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I don’t suppose that means I could ask you for some advice, then?”

  Jalmari held out his chained wrists, displaying them to me. “I am at your liberty, am I not?”

  “Good point. Okay, you know Valafar, the incubus who’s been spying on me? I think his mistress is double-crossing us. I think she’s been working with your dad, though I have no idea why. I’ve seen how powerful Valafar is, and I know she’s even more powerful than him. Any advice on how to deal with her in case she decides to royally screw us?”

  Jalmari shifted his weight and then grinned to himself. “My advice is to do as I have done. Re-prioritize.”

  I waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t say anything else. “Re-prioritize? That’s it?”

  His sinister grin widened, and those pale green eyes of his lifted to lock with mine. Perhaps I misjudged how much he could really see. “Sometimes,” he said slowly, “the person we want to kill the most is not the one we should kill first.”

  “Uh-huh. I just have one more question; how do I keep Jesu from coming with? He insists on fighting by my side.”

  Jalmari snorted. “Of course he does, he’s a fool in love. I’m afraid you’ll have to amputate his legs.”

  “Well, thank you very much, this has been so helpful.” I rolled my eyes and turned to leave.

  “It’s not mine, you know.”

  I paused. “What?”

  “The baby. It’s not mine.”

  Heat rushed to my face. I bit my lip and waited until my initial panic settled. There was no point in letting Jalmari under my skin. That’s what he wanted; to throw me off my game just before going to war. In a calm, quiet voice, I responded. “Don’t worry. I don’t want anything from you.”

  “I’m serious, Ema. It’s not mine. It’s my father’s.”

  I turned around and sc
owled. I couldn’t help it. “Please. We both know I didn’t have sex with Apollyon.”

  “On the contrary, my father was controlling me at the time.”

  “Don’t be stupid,” I said, narrowing my gaze. “Even if that was true, it’s still your body. I know how conception works.”

  “You conceived. I didn’t. Apollyon used me. He wanted to deposit his essence in your womb so that he could be reborn. It wasn’t my sperm that knocked you up, it was his demented tricks. His alchemy. It would have worked, too, if you hadn’t raised him from the Underworld.”

  “Well that’s a contradiction, isn’t it?” I knew I should stop talking. I knew I should go back upstairs and not listen to any of this, but damn if I didn’t get the last word. “If Apollyon’s alive, which I’ve personally witnessed more times than I care to remember, then what’s growing in my womb now, if not our illegitimate love child?”

  Jalmari wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Never refer to us and love in same sentence again.”

  “Gladly.” I crossed my arms.

  “My father’s essence is not complete. There is a piece of him missing. He has a wound on his chest that doesn’t heal. Have you seen it?”

  “No,” I lied.

  “Well I have. Some part of him remained in you. That’s what grows now.”

  “What, like a clone?” I was being sarcastic, but the moment the words left my mouth, my blood drained from my face and I felt sick.

  Jalmari shrugged. “I can’t be certain. I’ve never encountered such a thing before.”

  “Excuse me,” I said, turning away.

  “You have to kill it.”

  I quickened my steps, running to the stairs.

  The chains rattle behind me as Jalmari pushed to his feet. “You have to kill all of him, Ema!”

  I dashed up the stairs and then slammed the door shut. It’s not true. He just doesn’t want to admit he’s the father. That was fine with me. As far as I was concerned, neither of them were the father.

  I sucked in a deep breath and held it, waiting for my thudding heart to calm before exhaling. Feeling an increment better, I headed toward Nikolas’ office. My steps slowed to a stop as I entered the ballroom and found a large group of soldiers milling about. Some of them donned the black body armor. One of them noticed me and sighed.

  “There you are.”

  I blinked. “Jesu?”

  He was dressed head to toe in black. Black T-shirt, black pants, black biker boots. On top of his clothes, the black armor hugged his limbs and torso. He didn’t sport any weapons, but I knew they would come later. The pale blue undertones of his skin stood out against the stark darkness of his attire. His long silky hair had been tied in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. Without the usual frame of his tresses, Jesu’s features appeared sharper, his jaw stronger, his eyes brighter. He looked like something from another planet. A dark alien warrior.

  No, not an alien, I realized. An angel.

  Still, this angel was going to have to learn to watch from afar. “You’re not coming with, Jesu.”

  “Come,” he said, motioning with his hand. “Nikolas is making plans without you.”

  I weaved around the soldiers and followed Jesu to the back of the room, where we continued across the hall. The office door stood open as more soldiers came and went. From the threshold, I could see Nikolas, Tancred, Brinnon, and Maria crowded tightly around the king’s desk. Maps were spread across the mahogany top. Nikolas pointed to them while talking.

  Maria noticed us. She glanced at my armor and beamed. “Just look at you.”

  Nikolas waved me toward him. “Come in.”

  I approached the desk and glanced at a map of Panama. “So what’s the plan?”

  “I had to call in a few favors with the R.E.D.,” he said. “They confirmed rogue vampyre activity on the island, and they weren’t happy about it, but I convinced them to let us take care of our own business. They own a landing strip in the jungle about three miles from the coast.” Nikolas pointed to its location on the map. “We’ll take an aircraft full of our best men and land there, then hike to the beach.” He traced a route from the mainland to the coast with his fingertip. “The R.E.D. will have a boat waiting for us.”

  Tancred took over, speaking an octave louder than his king. “I’ve divided the men into three groups. Group One will head to the island first to scope out the situation and see what exactly we’re dealing with. Group Two will backup Group One. Once they get a visual on Apollyon, both groups will move in and kill as many as possible. Group Three is on close body protection duty.” Tancred nodded at me. “They will be with you every step of the way, and will get you as close to Apollyon as possible.”

  “Okay,” I nodded, taking it all in. “When do we leave?”

  Tancred checked his watched. “One hour.”

  I faced Maria and lifted my adorned wrist, gesturing to the sapphire charm with my eyes. “I’m going to need those magic words now.”

  She nodded and then stepped away from the desk, motioning with her hand for me to follow. We went to the corner. Maria pulled a slip of paper from her skirt pocket and handed it to me. “Do not repeat it out loud until you’re ready to use it.”

  I glanced at the paper and read the words scrawled in pencil.

  Your soul I reap by name; Abbaton.

  “It’s in English?”

  “A rough translation,” Maria explained. “It’s your stone. It’s programmed to your native language.”

  “Cool,” I said. “I just have one question. What’s this word here?” I pointed to the word Abbaton.

  “That is Apollyon’s true name, given to him by his mother. Spells do not work with nicknames or aliases. That’s why he kept changing his.” She snorted. Then she plucked the paper from my hands and went back to the group. Maria handed the paper to Jesu. He dug his free hand under his armor, pulled out his lighter, and lit the paper on fire. The spell went up in smoke. No one could say Maria wasn’t thorough.

  Bridget

  Tall eroded cliffs surrounded the island of Escudo de Veraguas. A thick jungle topped the cliffs and slopped into a small beach along the southeast side. The sun melted below the horizon while I killed the motor, picked up the oars, and rowed the remainder of the distance. I kept close to the cliffs, using the natural walls to stay out of sight for as long as possible. The bow of the small boat soon hit the wet sand. I pulled the oars in and then took a look around.

  Death made a home here.

  A local indigenous tribe had been massacred, the bodies left to rot wherever they landed, the sand tainted red. Either Apollyon was careless, or he wanted the attention.

  Probably the latter.

  Everyone in King Nikolas’ castle talked about Apollyon like he was a mastermind, a legend. You didn’t get that kind of reputation by being careless. Apollyon left his food out in the open for a reason. He wanted to be found.

  Well I found you, sucker. Get ready to lose this round of hide-and-go-seek.

  I scanned the jungle beyond the shore. I couldn’t discern any movement, but that didn’t mean the coast was clear. The humans had been dead long enough for rot to set in, and the air stank. Scenting would be pointless. Using the oars, I pushed away from the beach and paddled toward a tall jagged rock protruding from the ocean near one of the island cliffs. I tied the boat to the rock. The little dingy might be destroyed by the waves when the tide came in, but I could always fly back to the mainland if that happened.

  I shucked off my clothes and quickly stashed them in one of the briefcases. I used a length of rope to tie the cases together and then slung them across my back. From there, I shifted into a howler monkey. I leaped from the boat, onto the rock, and then jumped to the cliff. Nothing too weird about a monkey climbing a cliff with stolen goods strapped to its back. The locals had warned me about the howler monkeys. Apparently, they stole all the time. Still, I kept to the tall brush to avoid being seen as I scaled the cliff and then scampered into the jungle.


  I discovered the tribe’s village not too far inland. I thought Apollyon would have set up shop in one of the huts, but a simple glance proved the village was abandoned, its occupants long since dead. I continued past the ghost village. A little ways through, I noticed more bodies lay here and there, as though the bastard had strung them out on purpose, leaving a trail to follow.

  I rolled my eyes. Of course Apollyon would think of humans as bread crumbs. He definitely expected company, but he couldn’t have been expecting me. More likely, the trail was meant for Ema.

  I took to the trees. I had the element of surprise on my side, and I wanted to keep it that way. That meant I had to play the part of the monkey, not just look it. I continued the trek through the jungle by swinging from limb to limb, following the trail of dead bodies below, letting instinct and years of acrobatic training take over. I kept my eyes open for any suspicious activity, but the island seemed to be uninhabited by anything larger than a bird. Then, I came upon a clearing and a large warehouse-like edifice made of scrap metal. I planted all four paws on a thick tree branch, balancing my weight as I listened carefully. The persistent buzz of insects made it nearly impossible, but I could just make out the faint murmur of voices.

  I’d never met Apollyon, so I didn’t know if any of the voices were his, but I was sure this tin house was his lair. Or least his chosen battle location. I zeroed in on the building, looking for a window or hole large enough to see into, but no such luck. Worse, the only door had a thick chain and padlock keeping it shut. My only hope was to try and pry a panel off the roof without making too much noise. Damn it, that’s exactly what he wants. The rickety metal building wasn’t a fortress, it was a giant bell. Apollyon would know the moment Ema breached the compound.

  The moment I breached the compound.

  So be it.

  My hands trembled in anticipation. I always got a little amped before a kill job, especially when I knew the target fully deserved it. Apollyon was such a horrible father, ending his life was the only thing both his sons agreed on.