The Dark

by Cheyenne McCray

  The man glared at Jake before he grinned, eased off Jake, and stood. “How’s it going?”

  “Sonofabitch.” Pain shot through Jake’s injured arm as he shoved the dagger into its sheath before pushing himself to his feet, still keeping an eye on his old friend. “Bourne, you’re a real lucky man.”

  David Bourne laughed and rubbed his hand over his high-and-tight haircut. “So that’s how you greet your Marine buddy, Captain Macgregor?”

  Seeing Bourne brought back rushes of memories. Good ones, for once. Jake had served in the U.S. Marine Corps for eight years after getting his bachelor’s degree at San Francisco State University.

  He’d trained with Bourne for six months at Quantico, Virginia, in the Officer Candidates Course, and they’d both served in the MEU out of Camp Pendleton.

  Over his years of service, during special recon missions, Jake had commanded his squad and dealt with some weird paranormal shit. After he’d led his men into the dark magic trap, he’d decided to leave the service to head the San Francisco Paranormal Special Forces.

  He couldn’t take back the past, but he could do all he damn well could for the future.

  Every muscle in Jake’s body tensed when he thought about last night.

  Another failure, and more good men and women dead.

  Above his wounded biceps, Jake rubbed the eagle, globe, and anchor insignia tattoo on his upper right arm.

  Jake pushed away the feelings, the failures eating away at his gut. “These days it’s dangerous to be pulling stunts like that,” he said.

  Bourne shrugged. “I had ya.”

  As he brushed grass off his T-shirt and jeans, Jake shook his head. “I’m the one who almost gave you a second smile.”

  “Could have taken you out but let you have it easy.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Bourne hooked his thumbs through his jeans belt loops as he looked around the meadow where Jake had been going through his exercises. “Hard to believe there’s a war going on in this city, peaceful as this place is, Bull.”

  When they were at Quantico, Bourne had given Jake the nickname “Bull” for his bullheadedness, and it had stuck throughout Jake’s years of service.

  Jake had retaliated by pinning the nickname “Speed” on Bourne for his ability to get any woman into bed every time they’d been given leave.

  “Believe it, Colonel Bourne.” Jake scooped up a towel from where he’d left it on the grass and wiped sweat from his forehead. The chill San Francisco air was already cooling his body down from the workout. “Things are so screwed that for all I know you could be on the other side.”

  “Definitely fucked up.” Bourne’s green eyes met Jake’s and his expression grew serious.

  “’Bout time you were shipped in to get in the middle of this.” Jake tossed his towel over his shoulder and began walking toward a tree-lined path, Bourne falling in step beside him.

  “Brigadier General Christian’s orders.” Bourne’s demeanor changed from casual to that of a highly trained military officer. Bourne commanded an elite unit of the U.S. Marines out of Camp Pendleton, the Fifteenth Marine Expeditionary Unit, MEU.

  “With the Marines being spread thin due to the war in the Middle East, getting our shit together for this magnitude of a threat, in such a short amount of time, hasn’t been easy,” Bourne added.

  “I figured.” Jake glanced at the sky and the thickening clouds. “It’s all come down pretty fast since that stadium full of people were slaughtered. But the military—slow as Christmas.”

  “The whole country’s losing it over this—whatever this is—now that it’s common knowledge,” Bourne said. “And now that nobody’s lying about terrorist attacks anymore, what happened in that stadium—”

  “You don’t know the half of it, Speed,” Jake said as they reached his black sports car. A military jeep was parked behind him.

  Bourne gave him a sharp look. “We’ve got three ships, twenty-two hundred Marines, and a crapload of major equipment.”

  “More than we have.” Jake felt a measure of relief that at least some reinforcements were at their disposal. “I just hope that’s enough.”

  “Must be worse that we thought.” Bourne shook his head. “If that’s the case, after we do some reconnaissance, they’ll send in the MEU. Even with what’s going on in the Middle East, we’ll be able to pull that together.” Bourne flexed his muscles. “Should be more than enough.”

  “Let’s hope to God you’re right.”

  “You can’t be serious, man.”

  “I wish I wasn’t.”

  The entire time they’d walked to the vehicles, Jake remained entirely aware of Bourne and every movement the man made. After all that had been going down in San Francisco, what Jake had said earlier to his old buddy had been true—no one could afford to completely trust anyone.

  It wasn’t until the last three to four weeks that it had hit the fan on a public, large-scale basis. What had been going down over the past few months escalated in the last few weeks from an unknown, practically invisible threat to a full-fledged paranormal war.

  With the destruction of the dark goddess, Ceithlenn, and evil god, Balor, officials had thought the threat was over, but they weren’t even close to being right.

  “We’ve heard all the bullshit from the bureaucrats.” Bourne leaned his back against Jake’s car. “Not to mention damn near every high-placed official in this city has vanished, from the mayor to a senator. Some of the wealthiest, most influential people in San Francisco, the world even, just gone.”

  The tenseness in Bourne’s body was obvious in the flex in his muscles as he added, “Give it to me straight.”

  Jake snorted. “You probably won’t believe it.”

  “I’ve seen the news footage.” Bourne’s stare was intense. “Our unit has reviewed the coverage over and over since we deployed, and we’ve been briefed—as much as they can tell us.”

  He shook his head. “Looked like some sci-fi flick. A bitch with wings, monsters ripping throats and gutting civilians, then all of the monsters and bitch disappearing. This is some tripped-up mess we’re supposed to believe.”

  “What you saw was real.” Jake settled his hip against his car door and casually rested one hand on his duty belt, near his Glock. “We’d been fighting those sonsofbitches since Halloween, but managed to keep it under wraps for a few months until the winged bitch—a freaking goddess from a place called Underworld—started killing masses several weeks ago—in broad daylight.”

  “What’s been handed down to us is that she was destroyed. Saw it on the tapes.” Bourne shifted against the car. “Some think she’ll be back.”

  “Fortunately we’re positive she’s history.” Jake rubbed his temples. “Now the problem is a warlock named Darkwolf who somehow absorbed that goddess’s powers and magic, along with the power of another god.”

  “God, goddess, warlock, magic, powers.” Bourne gave a humorless laugh. “A little too much to swallow.”

  Jake wiped his sweaty face again with the end of the towel. “I wish.”

  Bourne’s expression showed he was assessing the situation. “What’s with this warlock?”

  “Some heavy shit went down last night.” Jake shook his head. “I’ll fill you in later. Things aren’t looking too good right now.” Jake pushed himself away from the car and studied Bourne. “How’d you find me?”

  “I’ve got high-level security clearance on this one, Bull.” Bourne uncrossed his arms and hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans again. “The higher-ups told me to find you and your Paranormal Special Forces team at that warehouse on the pier that you and a bunch of freaks commandeered to use as your HQ.”

  Jake’s scalp prickled and he scowled at Bourne. “Those freaks are damned good in a fight and have saved all our lives more than once. Watch what you say or you might just find yourself on the receiving end of their ‘talents.’”

  He clicked the remote and unlocked his car as he went on. “I
’m surprised they’d give you my location.”

  “The chicks who called themselves something like Deeanoo witches checked me out.” Bourne smirked. “One ‘witch’ named Rhiannon had a vision that I’d be covering your ass in some mess or another.”

  “D’Anu witches,” Jake said. “They’ll probably be bailing your ass out.”

  With a grin, the powerful Marine shoved his hand into his back pocket and pulled out his own keys. “Whatever you say.”

  Jake’s muscles tensed, automatically wanting to defend every odd being on the team that was going to take down the warlock, Darkwolf.

  Instead, Jake relaxed and the corner of his mouth curved in an amused smile. The team didn’t need his defense—once Bourne saw the witches, D’Danann warriors, Dark Elves, and Jake’s own PSF officers in action, Bourne would be choking on every ounce of skepticism.

  The sudden smell of rain and a gust of wind sent a chill down Jake’s spine. He looked up at the swirling black clouds directly above them. The early evening light vanished and everything around them darkened.

  A musty, bitter odor filled the air.

  Jake’s heart jackhammered as he glanced at his friend. “We need to get the hell out of here.”

  “What the hell’s going on?” Bourne shouted, just as rain began pouring in sheets and plastering their clothes to their bodies.

  A water funnel appeared. Then another.

  “No time to explain.” Jake drew his Glock and gripped it with both hands as he aimed it at one of the funnels barreling down on him. He had to shout to be heard over the growing wind and thunder. “When they come to a stop a man will be on you with a blade. Shoot to kill.”

  “What the—” Bourne started before the sound of a gunshot echoed through the park.

  At least twenty more funnels appeared, surrounding them, and Jake’s heart thundered harder than the vibrations from the storm. Water splashed his face hard as the first funnel came to a stop and a Stormcutter slashed at his face with an ice dagger.

  Jake was ready and popped him in the head with one shot. Bourne was at Jake’s back, cursing, the sound of his own gun muffled in the fierceness of the storm. Jake jammed his foot against one man’s thigh, shoving him away at the same time he took out another Stormcutter.

  Every time one of the funnels came to a halt, water splashed Jake’s eyes, impairing his vision. But he continued to battle with a vengeance. He clenched his jaws as he fought with his elbows, his fists, his legs. Bourne continued to fire and shout, letting Jake know he was still alive.

  Just as he was about to shoot a Stormcutter, another one appeared.

  Too close for Jake to move.

  The Stormcutter shoved a dagger into Jake’s gut.

  Excruciating pain ripped through Jake as the Stormcutter buried the ice blade deep. A shout of agony tore from Jake’s throat.

  The Stormcutter cried out with triumph as he drove Jake to the ground with the power of his thrust.

  Nearly blind with pain and weakness as blood gushed from his body, Jake still managed to get off one more shot, and blew out the bastard’s brains.

  Jake got off a few more shots before another Stormcutter buried a second dagger below Jake’s rib cage. His arms went slack, the gun too heavy to keep a grip on as blood bubbled up his throat and filled his mouth and dribbled over his lips.

  The gun slipped onto the grass. Rain pounded Jake as he looked through glazed eyes at the grinning faces of several naked men who now surrounded him.

  One of the men stepped forward and stood over Jake, a dagger in his hand.

  He drove the ice blade straight toward Jake’s heart.

  4

  Otherworld and San Francisco

  * * *

  “Jake!” Cassia screamed just as Daire reached for her shoulder broach to unpin her ascension dress.

  Daire snatched his hand away as images of Jake dying almost blinded her.

  “No! No, no, no.” Her voice came out in sobs. She barely saw Daire, but managed to say, “I’m sorry,” before she gathered the strength of her increased powers and entered the transference to cross the veil between Otherworlds.

  Screams still tore at her mind as she flung herself through darkness and appeared next to Jake’s body. Her feet hit wet grass and rain drenched her.

  Naked, tattooed men surrounding Jake stumbled back in surprise when she appeared. One of them had been close to driving a dagger into Jake’s chest.

  Fury exploded within Cassia.

  Fire filled her mind and heart, and flames flew from her fingertips. She shouted to the goddess as she spun in a circle, her arms outstretched as the fire blasted from her body.

  Screams cut above sounds of rain and thunder as her fire burned the men and hit water funnels behind them. The water evaporated and fire engulfed each man that appeared. Their daggers melted.

  Smells of burned flesh and burned grass, along with something bitter and sour, filled the air as the men dropped to the ground, writhed, and turned to ash.

  She wiped out every funnel-being using her Elvin magic. The only man she allowed to live was the one she instinctively knew had been fighting beside Jake.

  No remorse battled her consciousness for those she had killed. She was not a true gray magic D’Anu witch—those who would incapacitate but not kill. She was fully Elvin, and the Elves had no such compunctions when they fought.

  One glance at the man beside Jake told Cassia the man would live.

  But Jake was close to drawing his last breath.

  Fear twisted her insides so hard it felt like her heart was being squeezed between two great boulders. Cassia dropped to her knees and cradled Jake’s head and shoulders.

  With a thought she transferred them both to Otherworld.

  The transference seemed to last too long, a suffocating blackness that she’d never felt before, and Cassia wanted to shout.

  She arrived on the warm wood floor in the palace in the trees, at an Elvin being’s feet, the one being who could help her save Jake.

  The Great Guardian.

  “Please, Mother.” Tears rolled down Cassia’s face as she supported Jake in her arms and looked up at the Guardian. “He’s not meant to die. He has purpose. He is needed for the battles ahead.”

  The Guardian knelt beside Jake and Cassia, and studied him as blood poured from his mouth and his chest heaved in hard jerks. His eyes opened and closed like he was trying to focus and as if it took tremendous effort to move his eyelids.

  “You have feelings for this man, Cassiandra.” The Guardian looked at Cassia. “But he is mortal. If he’s near to death, we shouldn’t interfere.”

  “Mother!” Cassia lowered Jake’s head to the floor and ran her hands above Jake’s body, her sparkling magic flowing in and out of him, telling her how extensive the damage was. Her head nearly spun at the magnitude of his injuries. “A lung, his intestines, spleen, and liver. This is beyond my skills.”

  “You know that with your ascension came power surpassing what you mastered before.” The Guardian put her palms on Jake’s bloody abdomen. “But it will take both of us to heal this human’s wounds.”

  Cassia’s breath came in heavy gasps and her heart throbbed in her ears as she placed her hands over Jake’s chest. Magic beyond magic flooded her veins, heat beyond heat.

  He wheezed and coughed up more blood as he looked up at her with glazed blue eyes. Confusion, and something else she couldn’t recognize, filled his gaze.

  “I’ll save you, Jake. I promise,” she whispered without allowing her magic to be interrupted. “Mother and I both will.”

  “Cassia.” Her name died on his lips before he closed his eyes, and his body went slack.

  Tears flooded Cassia’s cheeks nonstop as she closed her own eyes and focused on his wounds. The ice daggers hadn’t been poisoned, so at least they didn’t have to be concerned about that.

  With all her concentration, she focused on repairing every organ in his body. In her mind’s eye, she watched as her s
parkling magic combined with her mother’s glowing powers.

  Organs and an artery began to knit themselves back together, stopping the loss of blood and allowing them to function as they should.

  One by one, every organ, every part of Jake’s body that had been ripped apart, was repaired.

  Cassia began to feel light-headed from the drain on her body and magic. Her mind spun as she opened her eyes, and her focus wavered in and out.

  She continued using her own healing powers on Jake as she watched her mother. The Guardian’s magic flowed strong and pure until Jake’s skin had been sewn together, with only pink scars remaining.

  The Guardian’s features were impassive as she treated Jake’s biceps on the right arm, below a tattoo. She erased those wounds as well, leaving only scars. “He will need time to completely heal and will require much rest.”

  Dazed and a little disoriented, Cassia looked up at her mother. “Why did you leave scars?”

  “To remind him that he is mortal.” The Guardian eased to her feet as gracefully as if water could flow upward. All of the blood that had been on her hands and robes vanished. “And to remind you, Cassiandra.”

  Cassia looked at Jake and brushed his dark, wet hair from his eyes, blood streaking his forehead from her fingertips. He looked peaceful yet exhausted, but no longer tortured with pain.

  Blood coated her hands, her arms, and her once beautiful ascension dress. The rain-soaked dress clung to her skin and her hair hung in wet clumps. Her body numbed and shook as the power of her fear and anger began to subside. But the dizziness in her head increased.

  Shock. She was going into shock.

  “Ah, my child.” The Guardian’s voice seemed to come from far away and light pressure pushed against Cassia’s head. “It is time for you to rest. Both of you.”

  Cassia slumped forward, her cheek settling on the bloodied T-shirt that covered Jake’s chest.

  And felt nothing more.

  Cassia paced beside Jake’s bed. He had been asleep much longer than she had expected. Her mother had told her that Jake would need more time to recover from the shock his body had taken, but it had been three days. The Guardian said he would need at least one more.