My mom harassed me to stop riding the bus. But what did she expect me to do? Sit home all day and give up?
I told her we had to keep on like normal. “Don’t give up, and don’t give in,” I’d say. It seemed like the only way to fight against Ciardha’s Dark Energy. Each time I got my face busted up or my ribs bruised, it became a little harder not to give in to the anger and allow it to take me to whatever dark place beckoned. But I kept it at bay. I couldn’t give in. My mom needed me, and I’d be no help to her if I became one of the lawless thugs with black eyes that roamed the streets after dark.
Since we had only one car, I insisted my mom drive it to work.
“I’m not going to let you on the bus, Mom. Driving is dangerous enough.”
She pulled my head down, got on her tiptoes, and kissed my forehead. “You’re such a good kid, Jake. You don’t deserve this.” She gently touched my busted lip.
“None of us deserve any of this,” I’d said.
“Except maybe for her.” My mom had twisted her face into a scowl.
“Maybe,” I’d said.
But I didn’t mean it. As mad as I was at Emily – as much as I wanted to forget I’d ever known her so I could excise the pain in my chest where my heart for her used to be – I couldn’t wish one second of the hell-storm we lived through on anyone. Not even her.
I walked on the sidewalk, my head down. My eyes darted from side to side to look for danger, my messenger bag slung across my body, arms tight to me. Lucky for me, it wasn’t a busy day. I saw a few people, mostly older folks, quickly walking in the same eyes-averted-head-down-don’t-look-at-anyone-or-talk-to-anybody way that I walked. On the bus, I got accosted for change from a junkie, track marks all over his arms, crack sores around his mouth and on his face. I pulled out my pockets to show him I had no cash.
And I didn’t either. I’d learned that fast. Never carry money, credit cards or debit cards on your body or in your bag. I carried a bus card and packed my lunch. All that junkie or any thug could get out of me would be a peanut butter sandwich – or my blood.
I arrived at Wheaton Community College for my 9:00 Psych 101 class in one piece. I counted that a successful morning.
Once I got on campus, I relaxed – a little bit. It wasn’t because everyone there was cool. Far from it. There were plenty of students and even teachers that would shake you down for your dough. Girls had it worse. I’d heard talk that there was a band of guys gone dark that had raped a lot of girls on campus during the day between classes. I’d never seen this, and BA, I would probably have thought it was some kind of urban legend. But even if I hadn’t seen it, I figured it was true.
I wondered, sometimes, what I’d do if I walked to class and saw some girl being raped. Would I stop and help? Or would I walk on, eyes averted, and try to forget what I’d seen?
BA, I would have said I’d help. But I was less and less sure of that. With each passing day, it felt more and more pointless to fight the daily battle against people gone dark. It was like squashing one ant, but leaving the two-foot-high hill of fire ants. You’d still get bitten.
“Hey, Jake!”
My buddy Tristan yelled out to me from across the quad. Only Tristan was brave enough to be so overtly happy. I would have ignored him and acted like I didn’t know him if it wasn’t for the fact that I felt pretty sure no one was going to try anything on him.
I sauntered across the grass to where Tristan stood. I’d grown and was pretty sure I was finally at my full height of 5’11”. But Tristan towered over me, standing at 6’3” and weighing over two hundred pounds.
I’m glad he’s a good guy.
Once we’d come back from the Umbra Perdita, I couldn’t see auras anymore. That was a shame too. It’s a skill that would have come in handy. Even before you got close to someone or talked to them, you’d be able to see if they were still Lucent or if the darkness had overtaken them.
If I could see auras, I bet Tristan’s was damned bright. Even without the whole aura thing, he sort of glowed.
“What up with the broken lip, man?” Tristan asked.
I touched my lip. “This? It’s nothing.”
“A pretty black and blue nothing. You gotta fight back, J. You can’t let those dudes walk all over you. You’re goin’ to end up broken in two someday.”
“If I fight one, three more’ll come out of the shadows, T.”
“Not if you’re with me.” Tristan held up his right arm and flexed it until his bicep bulged. I think his bicep was as big around as my thigh.
“I don’t need a bodyguard, T.”
“I know you don’t. But there’s strength in numbers. It’s gettin’ rougher out there. We should start traveling together, that’s all I’m sayin’. Have each other’s backs.”
“T, let’s be honest. Having me at your back isn’t sayin’ much.”
Tristan laughed his deep, bass laugh. “Don’t underestimate yourself. I’m not askin’, I’m tellin’. From now on, we travel together.”
Who was I to argue with a mountain?
Tristan was not only a massive guy, strong and more than able to hold his own in a fight, but he was so upbeat all the time. Sometimes it annoyed me. Like when I was in a bad mood and wanted to bitch and complain, Tristan always found some bright side of the thing I complained about. It pissed me off. Sometimes you want to wallow in a dark mood. But I have to admit, it was probably my friendship with Tristan that kept me from turning completely black on the inside.
One time I asked him how, with all that was going on in the world, he could be so happy. And he said, “Easy. If I give in, I die. Remember that, man. If you give in to it, you die.”
I knew better than anybody that Tristan was right. He hadn’t been in the Umbra Perdita, but his faith had shown him the truth. And he was smart enough to use it.
It was easier to stay positive when I was around him. It was like Tristan’s positive attitude about things spilled over to me and even to others around him.
I stayed near him as much as I could.
We had a few minutes until class – or longer if our prof never showed up. We were shootin’ the shit about sports when I felt my phone, tucked inside my bag, wedged between the pages of my notebook, vibrate.
I dug the phone out and checked the caller ID. ‘Gabriella Hoffman.’ I didn’t know any Gabriella. But Hoffman. Could it be?
“You going to answer that?” Tristan asked.
“I’m not sure who it is.”
“They can’t beat you up over the phone, man. Answer it.”
I hesitated another second, but when it rang again, I hit the answer button.
“Hello?”
“Jake?”
“Yeah. Who’s this?”
“It’s Greta.”
Silence.
“Greta Hoffman.”
Hearing that name was like a punch in my gut. I was suddenly clammy, and my stomach seized into a knot.
“Jake, are you there?”
I tried to respond, to tell her ‘yeah, I’m here’, but my mouth was full of cotton. I hadn’t seen Greta for almost a year. The last time I saw her, she was walking down that hill in the cemetery, going her way, and I went mine. None of what happened was Greta’s fault, but she’d been there. She was a part of the nightmare I’d tried so hard to forget. When I heard her voice, it was like a rush of horrific images flooded my mind. It made me want to puke out my French toast.
“Jake?”
I finally managed to squeak out, “I’m here.”
“Phew, I thought you’d fainted or something for a minute there. I’m glad you picked up. I need to talk to you.”
“Why? You haven’t ever needed to talk to me, Greta. Not BA, and not for the past year.”
“I think it’s pretty obvious why.”
“No. No, it’s not obvious.”
“Maybe you haven’t noticed, but there’s a friggin’ Apocalypse going on out there. That’s why.”
“Yeah, I noticed.”
I touched my still-sore ribs, all the reminder I needed. I doubted perfect, pretty, rich and mighty Greta Hoffman had a set of broken bones or bruises to match mine.
“Well? Don’t you want to do something about it?”
“I’m pretty busy trying to stay alive. Besides, why are you calling me? I’d suggest you contact the redhead with the magic arm bracelet.”
“I have talked to her.”
She had talked to Emily? Greta Hoffman had voluntarily talked to Emily Adams? That was even more improbable than the God of Dark Energy taking over our planet. It made me instantly nervous.
“And?”
“And she has agreed to join with me to recruit people to fight the Dark Energy followers.”
Silence.
“Jake? You still there?”
“Yup. Let me get this straight. You and the witch want to create some little band of light knights or something?”
“Ooh, I like that. Light Knights! Or maybe Lucent Knights. What do you think?”
“I think you’re nuts.”
I looked over at Tristan and mimed a ‘she’s crazy’ motion with my hand around my head. He smiled at me and went back to whatever it was he was doing with his phone.
“Why am I nuts for wanting to fight back?”
“Haven’t you noticed that you can’t fight against this darkness? Oh, you probably haven’t noticed anything. Your daddy probably has a driver take you to school and pick you up and shelter you from all the shit going down.”
“How dare you! You don’t know anything about what I’ve gone through. I was there, or have you forgotten that?”
“I’ve tried to forget it all, but so far haven’t been able to expunge you and her and the whole damned circus from my mind. Well, Miss Hoffman, because you were there, you’ll remember that Ciardha single-handedly took down a Goddess with nearly infinite power. So I’m thinking you, me and the redheaded witch don’t stand much of a chance.”
“So you’ve given up? I always thought you were a nerd, but I never thought you were a loser.”
“Loser. That the best you can come up with?”
That one did sort of sting, though. Was Greta right? Had I become a loser?
“Childish.”
“Whatever. Look, class is getting ready to start, so I’ve gotta go. So fabulous catching up with you Miss Hoffman. Take care of yourself.”
“Jake – wait! Don’t hang up yet.”
Desperation in her voice. Interesting.
“What, Greta?”
“Before you say no, just come meet with me. One time. Meet with me and hear me out, then you can say no and good-bye and never have to see me or talk to me again. I swear if you meet with me one time and say no, I’ll never hound you again.”
“And if I don’t meet with you?”
“I’ll be like wet toilet paper stuck to your shoe.”
Lovely thought. I knew Greta. She was totally capable of being wet toilet paper stuck to my shoe.
“Okay, fine. I’ll see you. Once.”
“Great. You name the time and place.”
“My last class is over at 3:00, and I have to be at work by six. So meet me here, Wheaton Community College, room 21-A at 3:15. I don’t have much time, so don’t be late.”
“I’ll be there.”
I pushed the red ‘End Call’ button with relief that it was over. For now.
“What was that all about?” Tristan asked.
“Old business.”
He raised his eyebrows at me. “You need my help?”
“Nah, not yet anyway.”
“You need me, holler.”
“Thanks, man,” I said. He put his hand out, and we fist bumped.
It was just a meeting with Greta. I was pretty sure I could handle that. I’d meet with her, tell her to hit the pavement, then get back to my routine of avoiding human contact like it was the plague, ’cause it pretty much was.
3. Ciardha
The Apocalyptic World
Ciardha traveled as a dark wisp for weeks and gathered into himself the plentiful Lucent Energy that abounded amongst the human population. In her close-minded naiveté, his sister had gifted Lucent Energy to the humans she so adored. The humans called it love. Ciardha called it dinner. His powers grew strong on the feast as he converted the Lucent Energy into Dark Energy.
In his wisp form, Ciardha floated on the air currents and observed humans as they slept and ate, as they rode the bus and worked at their desks. He skulked in the dark corners of bars and in the shadows on the street. When he first arrived, he hid from the humans. But he soon learned that even when he hovered before their eyes in the brightest light of day, human eyes seemed not to see him.
While his power grew merely from feeding on the negative emotion he felt around him, Ciardha wanted more. I shall have so much more.
“I must walk among them,” he thought to Dorcha.
Dorcha had never known the power of speech. In her animal form she could only bray or let out her shrill whinny in response to her master. In her wisp form she knew not how to form her thoughts and send them to her master.
“You need not answer me,” Ciardha thought to her. “You are without the intelligence necessary to provide insight to me, anyway.”
Ciardha drifted in the lengthening shadows of a downtown twilight as he watched for a suitable body.
“There, getting out of that vehicle. He is strong. Full of power. And my sister’s energy is weak with him. Yes, he shall do nicely.”
Ciardha’s mark was a man of no more than thirty, tall and slim, with dark brown hair and molten chocolate eyes. His jaw was angular, his lips thin. The man was dressed in a black leather coat, which made his pale skin nearly glow in the first dark of night. The man placed his hand into the hand of the valet, smoothly passing along a large bill for the promise of a watchful eye over his luxury vehicle.
Ciardha’s wisp closed the gap between himself and the target nearly instantaneously. He had only to desire to be merged with the essence of that which animated the man’s body and it was so.
Ciardha felt a small resistance, like a hand pressing against him. But it lasted only a moment. Ciardha used the man’s mind to envision the intense power that Ciardha knew he would soon possess in this land filled with Lucent Energy. Like a snow fort melting in the midday sun, the man’s resistance gave way, and Ciardha possessed him fully.
“Follow me,” he thought to Dorcha.
A doorman held the large, glass door to the hotel open for him, and Ciardha walked stiffly through it and entered the marble-floored lobby. He felt confined by the fleshy form that was his new home. Have I but imprisoned myself again? It was a great annoyance to have to use legs to walk rather than zip from place to place on the wind, no effort at all. As he pushed the button beside the elevator to go up, his arm felt heavy. While he had appeared as a human in the Umbra Perdita, that body was but a façade, an illusion of form. How do humans suffer these ponderous mounds of flesh merely for the sake of existence?
The sentient being that still resided inside Ciardha’s new body knew where to go. It guided him as he walked down a hallway, turned left and approached a door. Ciardha reached into the pocket inside his coat and removed a plastic card. He watched as his hand pushed the card into a slot in the door. He heard a small beep and a click, then he turned the handle and pushed the door open.
Ciardha entered a dimly lit room. As he scanned it, he saw a table with two chairs and a long piece of dark wood furniture on which rested a large rectangle that spoke and displayed moving pictures. In the middle of the room was a large sleeping platform. And on the sleeping platform rested a creature that Ciardha’s human form found pleasing to gaze upon.
The woman was young, no more than twenty. Her pale face was surrounded by long, straight, nearly black hair with a bright pink stripe down one side. Her eyes were icy blue orbs over full, pink lips.
She raised herself from the bed, and as she walked to Ciardha, her slim hips swayed beneath
the champagne-colored silk gown she wore. Her small breasts were high and firm. The gown was cut so that most of her small breasts were revealed save for the buds of her nipples that stood out under the light silk of her gown.
Ciardha felt a sensation in this body that he had never felt before. It started in his loins and spread to his stomach. Ciardha felt the organ in his chest pound slightly harder, his breath became more labored, his face felt hot. Ciardha judged the sensations he experienced in this human body to be pleasant in a way he had not imagined was possible.
“Master,” the woman said in a husky voice.
“You called me master,” he said to the woman. “You know of me?”
“Of course I know you, Master. I’ve waited here for you all day as you commanded. And I’ve grown so lonely.”
She is speaking to this human body. This body is master of this woman. I chose well indeed. Perhaps he is master of more as well.
“What is my name?” Ciardha asked.
“Master,” the woman said. She stood less than two feet away, and she undid the strings of her gown that had been tied behind her neck. The small slip of fabric that had covered her breasts fell to her waist, revealing a slim waist and more of her pale, pink skin.
“What do others call me? What is my given name?”
“You told me never to speak it,” she said as she moved closer. Her attempt at a kiss was interrupted as Ciardha’s hand hit her hard across the face. Ciardha heard the woman whimper from the pain. He looked forward to the surge of delicious energy he would feel from her hurt and fear. But the lovely surge of dark thoughts never came. Instead, she seemed to transmute her feelings of fear and pain into a feeling of adoration for her master.
This body will be a more than suitable home for Dorcha. It already understands its subservient place.
“I command you. Speak to me my given name only this one time.”
The woman quickly obeyed. “Daniel,” she said. “Daniel Roberts.”
The Akasha Chronicles Trilogy Boxed Set: The Complete Emily Adams Series Page 47