COME, THE DARK: (Forever Girl Series Book Two)

by Rebecca Hamilton

  “And that is all you want,” he says, dropping my hand, his eyes begging me to tell him otherwise.

  I want to tell him that I want it all. I want Anna...and I want him. But that’s not what I say.

  “It’s what I want most.”

  I know it means leaving him behind, and that thought stabs in my chest. I can’t live with the pain of losing them both, but I have to be willing to lose one of them. Without William, my heart will ache indefinitely, but without my daughter, I cannot live.

  “You’re both so horribly lovely,” Tess says, standing between us. “I’m with Cord. We should fight. Worry about the rest later. I say we test Cord’s new ability and lure the Morts and Cruor out during the day.”

  William opens his mouth, but I can’t let him speak. We need to stay focused. I lock eyes with Tess. “So we bait them. Can they sense I’m a spirit elemental or only that I’m Ankou?”

  “Use you as bait?” William shakes his head. “Is that what you’re suggesting?”

  “You two can stay close by.”

  “They’d be happy to capture any of us,” William counters. “Let me do it.”

  “I’m clearly better bait,” I say. “They’ll know I have less experience as an Ankou.”

  Tess chews her lip, avoiding eye contract. I stare at her, waiting for her to take my side.

  “What do you think?” I press.

  She’s twitching her foot in an irritated way, but not saying anything, until finally she looks up to glare at William. “Are you going to tell her?”

  “We still have other options,” he says.

  She raises her eyebrows, and now I’m the one glaring at him. “I think I should be able to decide, whatever it is.”

  “Not now,” he says more firmly.

  “I will do this alone if I have to,” I say, anger building in my chest. “If you want to help, you need to be honest with me. Stop trying to protect me!”

  “Stop needing me to,” he says, his eyebrows pulling lower of his eyes. He immediately shakes his head as though that can erase his words. “That’s wrong,” he says. “You’re strong, Cord. You don’t need me to protect you, but I need to.”

  I understand now that his anger is his only defense; it both worries and endears me to him that he cares so much to protect me that he would rather me be cross with him. But I can’t let it go. Not now. I swallow, trying to keep my emotions at bay. “This isn’t about what you need.”

  “Nor is it about what you need,” he says smoothly. “I’ve stood by while many people fighting this same battle have died. I blame myself for not putting an end to it, but there was always someone new...someone else who could fight this war.”

  “Then fight with me,” I challenge him.

  He looks away. “Not everyone can be replaced. Sometimes there are people...sometimes...Cord—” He breathes out slow. “—I can’t stop you if you want to fight, so of course I will fight beside you. But is that what you really want? To risk your life?”

  I steel myself against his words, trying to keep my expression unreadable. He is the first man I’ve ever felt I could trust with my heart. But can I trust him to allow me to decide my own fate, to allow me to face the Maltorim, whatever the consequences may be, so that I can take the only chance I have to get back to Anna?

  When I don’t respond, William lifts my hand with his fingers. “We could try something else first. Something with less risk.”

  “We don’t have time to try other things first,” I plead. “If we are going to take a risk, now is the time to take it.”

  “If you fail, you will never have the chance to return to Anna.”

  “And if I don’t try, the same will still be true. You told me that. At least if we try, I have a chance.”

  He presses his lips together and stares past Tess. Determination sets his expression, replacing all his previous hesitation. “We will have to get rid of the Morts, too, and that includes the ones already possessing human flesh,” he says. “We won’t be able to attempt any healing until after the fight is over. Be prepared that some innocent people may die waiting.”

  “So we work fast,” I say optimistically. “Just tell me what we need to do.”

  April 1692

  We do not wait for nightfall. William drinks some of Tess’ blood to help counteract the Cruor side of his nature. He can only drink so much without weakening her, but it should buy us a few hours. We set up an altar in a large clearing near the ocean, in the place where it all began, where I first met William and Tess. I know it’s the same field because the tree stump in the middle of the clearing is unmistakable, seemingly made of many thinner tree trunks woven together.

  I have everything I need—even the witch’s ladder is still in the pocket of my dress, available to me in the event I ever need it again.

  I act under the direction of William and Tess, while they hide beneath the shade of my wings. The sunlight is uncomfortable, but there is a distinct difference from how I feel now to how I’ve felt in my history as an Ankou when touched by the sun’s rays.

  Now that I’ve got a handle on my Ferrum nature, I’m counting the minutes in clicks of my teeth. Snap out. Snap in. Snap out. Snap in. The Cruor’s fangs seem like child’s play by comparison.

  Since we’re performing moon magic, and the moon has such a pull on the tides, we’ve chosen a ritual connected to the element of water. My command of this element has been strongest since I’ve joined spirits with the spirit elemental, and I sense my connection with her is our only hope.

  Our altar, a flat-surfaced rock, faces west, encircled by large white oval stones. On it is a silver flask filled with water and a moonstone engraved with the raiðo rune—the rune of journey. William has made dragon’s blood by mixing water with a red powder he derived from the stem of a dragon’s tree found on the little-known island of Socotra—one of the few travels we have had to make. Floating in the dragon’s blood is a white lotus flower.

  William steps up behind me, takes my wrists, and crosses them over my chest. “Close your eyes,” he whispers. “Imagine the full moon. Imagine her beauty, imagine her as a reflection of yourself.”

  My heart flutters. I allow my body to relax against his, my head leaning back into his chest. “You are universal and constant,” I say aloud, and I try to envision the moon, not William, as I say this. “In the dark of night, you shine down upon us and bathe us in your light.”

  “Stay steady,” William instructs. “I’m going to share my energy with you now.”

  His fingers intertwine with mine, his palms cool against the backs of my hands. This magic has nothing to do with being Ankou; it’s a ritual his father wrote based on Pagan traditions. Together, we raise our arms up, and a surge of energy—a palpable tingle—travels down my arms, covers my breasts, and spreads to my stomach.

  “I am the wind in the sky,” I say, recalling the words Tess had me memorize, “the spark in the fire, the seedling in the earth, the water in the river.”

  As William’s energy continues to course through me, it’s as though a magnetic force is weaving itself around our bodies, and there is both comfort and fear in that—the comfort of having him, the fear of losing him—but I don’t let it deter me.

  “I am the sun and the moon, together on this day,” I say.

  Speaking the words aloud, I start to believe them. That somehow, with William at my side, I see the beauty and perfection within myself. And I want more now. I want more than my life with Anna back. I want to share my gift with William. With the world.

  After a deep breath, William releases my hands, and I pluck the lotus flower from the dragon’s blood and eat it.

  William breathes in deeply again, and my lungs act with his. He whispers close to my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “Feel the power within you,” he says. “When you are ready, you can conclude.”

  The energy is welling within me like a chattering in my soul. My own. William’s. The spirit elemental’s. My passion. My love. My p
ain. My joy. Until finally the emotions are on the brink, ready to overflow.

  “Now,” I whisper to William and Tess.

  My eyes are closed, but I hear the tinkling as they put their chimes back on. I feel William’s large hands slide over my hips and stomach as he ties my own chimes around my waist.

  It’s time.

  “Come, moon,” the words leave me like a mist of warm air on a cold river. “Come black the sky, come allude the night.”

  I breathe in one last slow, deep breath, trying to find confidence in my words. Trying to trust that what I say will somehow truly impact the physical world around us. Trying to trust that what I feel goes beyond my connection with William.

  At least, I brave the final words.

  “Come, the dark.”

  I don’t open my eyes right away. I just feel. And I feel the moon; I feel his glow, feel the soothing airiness he brings to the world.

  “You’re doing it, Cord,” William says low in my ear, awe floating from his voice.

  I lower my arms and blink my eyes open, and what I see sends a rush to my chest. The moon has eclipsed the sun, has swallowed her whole, so that only an orange ring of light glows around his edges.

  Cruor know to avoid an eclipse—know when they are coming. But this one is a surprise. We might actually be able to trick them into believing it’s night.

  I peek over my shoulder, meeting William’s intense gaze with my own. I can’t speak, can’t tell him what’s on my mind, but I know now that I must find a way to bring William back with me when I return to Anna. I am strong enough to love him and to love her. My love has not been divided all this time, as I had imagined; instead, it has multiplied.

  My guilt melts away, but a new weight replaces the emotion. I can’t lose him.

  There is no time to dwell on this discovery, though. As Tess weaves between the trees enclosing the clearing, her chimes call out the Morts. They know it’s us, and the Cruor and Marked Strigoi will soon follow. The creak of trees on a quiet day is soon replaced with the loud thunder of footsteps. The moon is out, the moon is full, and already Maltorim soldiers are whipping from between the trees and into the clearing.

  I focus my energy on holding the moon and allow the battle to take place, only hoping that William and Tess are prepared for what lies ahead—to keep the Maltorim’s Cruor soldiers at bay until enough of them have entered the clearing to demolish them all in one fell swoop. We only get one shot at this.

  William and Tess pounce in front of me, standing half crouched with swords drawn. Cruor infiltrate our clearing, and hundreds of humans possessed by Morts stalk into the battle as well.

  But nothing is worse than the dead. The dead the Maltorim have risen. The soldiers with no life left to lose. Their expressions empty and their movements unnatural. A truly terrifying, mindless army.

  Along the edges of our battleground, water sweeps in, lapping up to my feet. The waves cast the field in a blue ambience—sterile, cold reflections of light in the dark clearing. I need to keep the water at bay. Our chimes cannot get wet, yet the water is what will lend me strength enough to complete this task.

  Sticks and weeds float along the surface. The peaty smell of algae, dirty water, and wet animal accost my senses, and the presence of ocean water is so heavy I taste the salt on the air. Soon, the seawater is rushing over the dead grass, rising until we are ankle deep. Flooding the clearing in a way that only magic can, drawing water from distances so great I wonder if all of Salem has been washed away.

  The water moves with cold fluidity around my ankles and splashes onto my shins, and I step onto the altar. The water splashes up against the rock, as though drawn to me, and I know that, although I am an element of air, I am a ruler of water. I can control it. I need to control it.

  William and Tess have taken out half a dozen of the Maltorim soldiers already, but the field is crowding. They will not survive much longer, but a little longer is all we need. I twist my wrist, and the water below me trickles upward, defying gravity, pledging its allegiance to my command.

  I can do this.

  I sweep my hand upward and forward, directing a wave of water to crash into a crowd of Maltorim soldiers. The water glitters with my inner ability, a force beyond itself, knocking the Cruor men to the ground. It’s enough to allow William and Tess to regain superiority long enough to move several Mort spirits from the dead bodies they possess. My heart pangs as the human shells fall with a splash. The humans that are still alive—I will need my Ferrum nature to save them, to remove the Morts without harming or possibly killing their human bodies.

  Almost there. Hang on.

  There are at least a hundred Maltorim soldiers now and even more humans possessed by Morts. I hadn’t realized so many had been working against us. Tess and William drop the Cruor and Marked Strigoi one by one while trying to fend off the possessed humans a little longer. The fur of slain animals peek out of the water’s surface, and the black tar of the eliminated Cruor oils the water’s surface.

  On the opposite side of the clearing stands a man, his black shirt unbuttoned and chest open to the wind that the sea I have conjured has brought with it. His charcoal hair is slicked back, and his dark stare is intent on mine. The golden sheen to his skin gives him away for the traitor he is: the Ankou that has betrayed us to help the Maltorim.

  I can’t concentrate on holding the moon while the battle is going on around me. Tess and William need me to stay strong in my purpose, but they also need help fighting. In the end, we can’t run forever. Right here and now is our best shot.

  Tess warned me we could not afford to travel anymore, but William had managed it to get the supplies we needed for the ritual. I need to risk it now, too. I cannot cross this field any other way, not with the hordes of the mindless and possessed and walking dead. I can only hope my decision to fight does not mean abandoning my call on the moon too early.

  I take a running step off of the altar and directly into time and space, coming out on the other side of the clearing with my sword drawn and swinging to decapitate the traitorous Ankou. But he grabs my wrist, stopping my blow, and stares into my eyes with burning intensity.

  “Cordovae,” he says, as though my name is a disease.

  Something stabs into my lower back, just to the side, and a burning spreads into my bloodstream and scorches my skin. My arm drops to my side, sword still in my grasp, but my world grows dark around me. I cling with everything I can to the moon, to keep her there for William and Tess a little longer. More than half of the possessed dead bodies have dropped into the waters now.

  “I loved you once,” he says to me, grabbing my arm, and I feel my face twisting with my mind as I try to figure out what he means. “You were too good for me. Too pure. Too weak.”

  His nails dig into my bicep. “I led you to the stakes,” he whispers loud in my ear, his voice like a snake. “I set the fire myself.” He shakes me now, and the look in his eyes—it’s pure insanity. He thinks I am Cordovae? Not with her spirit, but herself in the flesh? His eyes are nearly black. “How dare you come back? You were meant to die in Logroño! I saw you die! Tell me how you did it.” He shakes me again. “Tell me how you came back!”

  He’s becoming increasingly frantic, and I realize then he doesn’t want me to die. Not again, not yet—not until he knows how Cordovae is still alive.

  I turn my nose up at him. “Does it matter? You’ll die here today. You will die with this pathetic army.”

  He laughs, staring over my shoulder. “And so will your friends.”

  I twist to look behind me, my heart sinking at the sight: A Mort, possessing a large, dead human man, stalks up behind William, holding a large rock over his head.

  Even as it’s starting to come down, I force my way through the pain to swing once more at the Ankou before me. This time, my sword slices into his neck, decapitating him, dropping the rest of his body first to his knees and then to the torrents below.

  “She never loved you,” I
say to his corpse.

  I spin back to William. He’s staring at me, a stunned look in his eyes as the remaining possessed dead bodies in the field drop into the crystal blue water. The body of the one holding the boulder is instantly crushed. Those bodies were nothing without their spiritual puppet master.

  “Now, Cord!” William yells, and I release the moon.

  It moves slower than I hope. If it doesn’t lurk away from the sun fast enough, it could mean the death of any or all of us. I close my eyes, drawing more energy from water that floods the clearing and embracing the spirit of the moon, both working together, empowering me as I use my willpower to control the elements.

  Finally, the moon creeps away from the sun, and light bursts out, slanting onto our battleground and incinerating the remaining Cruor...sending them up in flames until all that remains is their charred ashes falling like snowflakes into the water.

  In that one moment, the majority of the Maltorim’s Cruor delegated to preventing us from our goal are eliminated, and with the Maltorim’s lone Ankou dead and unable to control the Morts, they are more disorganized. But we still have a lot of work to do before a new army is forged.

  The Marked Ones—the Strigoi that work alongside the Maltorim—still remain. A hand thuds on my shoulder, and I turn around. Adrian and his comrade, Charles, stand behind me.

  “Now we make amends,” Adrian says, and with that, he and Charles charge into the clearing, engaging the remaining Maltorim warriors.

  Their alliance stuns me, but does not move me as much as the two other presences that glide into the battleground. On the other side of the field, closest to my altar, stand Vanessa—the postpartum woman I helped escape Salem—and Grace, the woman who saved me and yet who I abandoned.

  Relief that Grace was, after all, someone I could trust, floods through me. I run across the soggy clearing to where most of the Strigoi have gathered and fight alongside my comrades—all of them—for once feeling like we have a chance of survival. A chance to put an end to the darkness.

  That is until I remember that William and Tess are fighting under a blanket of sunlight, one that surely suffocates their Ankou bloodline. Their weariness reflects in my own, as I’m weaker than I realized from forcing one final travel to put an end to the miserable Ankou who was controlling the army of the dead.