Darkness Savage (The Dark Cycle Book 3)

by Rachel A. Marks

  “I brought the journal for you,” Kara says, pointing to her bag that’s set on a barstool behind her. “Eric said you’d need it.”

  Raul is sitting on the stool next to it; Jax is behind the bar, fiddling with a box full of tiny umbrellas. Sid is leaning on the bar, looking wan and thin, his eyes sunken in, heavy-lidded. His cane is shaking a bit from the pressure of keeping himself propped up.

  His choice to stay in this time has cost him, and it looks like it’s nearly ready to claim him.

  “I’m so relieved that you’re all right, son,” he says. He runs a hand across his bald head and over his face like he’s wiping away worry. “The authorities that came to the house were very persistent. After everything that happened today, this won’t go away anytime soon. They will be determined to find you, but we can’t let them.”

  “No,” Eric adds. “You’ll need to stay here for now. Until we can fix this.”

  “And how are we supposed to do that?” I ask. “I’m all over the news.”

  Kara pales at my words. “You are?”

  “Infamous,” Jax says with a smirk, looking at my wrinkled and sandy clothes. “Too bad you look like shit. Sid said you poofed out or somethin’. Seriously wish I could’ve seen that one. Where’d you go?”

  “I ended up at the beach.” I look around for Connor, needing to see that he’s at least all right. “Near Mrs. O’Linn’s house.”

  “That’s crazy-train,” Raul says, taking it all in with wide eyes. “Teleporting? Beam me up, Scotty.”

  I spot Connor standing on the dance floor, leaning against the two-way mirror wall. His eyes are rimmed in dark circles, his skin is almost green in the artificial light of the club, and it looks like a heavy weight is on his shoulders. But he’s standing. He nods at me, and I see he’s trying to act like everything’s fine.

  “I can’t believe I hurt you,” I say, my voice tight. “Man, I’m just—”

  Connor waves off my apology. “I’m fine.”

  “He said that it felt like being electrocuted,” Jax pipes in, tucking a pink umbrella toothpick in his thick hair like a barrette.

  Kara glares. “Way to rub it in, lame-ass.”

  Seeing Connor like this . . . urgency fills me that much more. “I need to find some witch, or Ava’s going to kill her,” I say, turning to Eric.

  “You mentioned that on the phone,” he says. “I’m not sure how you’d find this woman, but a green witch means a witch who uses earth energy. They tend to be very powerful. Could this be a rival of your sister’s?”

  “She seems pretty confident about killing her,” I say. “This whole thing with a game is nuts.”

  “That message could be a distraction, son,” Sid says. “Don’t play into her hands and run off to do her bidding.”

  So, basically, let the witch die.

  Ava’s always been one of the most stubborn souls I know. And even if she’s not the Ava that I knew—not my Ava—she’s obviously enough like the old Ava to know how to get what she wants from me: put people in danger until I fall into her trap. Sid’s right, I can’t let her manipulate me. But I don’t feel right, sitting by and letting her kill people, either. Even if they are strangers.

  “It’s my fault,” I say. “I woke Ava up after Daniel’s warning. I was so focused on having her back that I didn’t consider the repercussions. I need to make this right, and I think I better do it alone or more people will get hurt.” I can’t let anyone else I care about get trapped in this mess with me.

  “No, Aidan,” Eric says, very matter-of-fact. “Your power is gaining strength. It’s not safe to run off on your own anymore. It’s not safe for anyone. You saw the truth of that today at the hospital. You need to allow the Lights you’ve found to take their place, so your power can be balanced.”

  My gut twists at the reminder of what I’ve done. Out, damned spot!

  No, I can’t think about it, or I’ll crumble. I focus back on what Eric said. “I assumed the Lights were already a thing. I’m living with them, aren’t I?”

  Eric ignores my question, asking Sid, “How many do you believe you’ve found?”

  “I think there are six now,” Sid says. “If Raul is added to the equation.” He motions to Raul beside him.

  “Mr. Sid got me the fake papers so I can be legit now,” Raul says to me, lifting his chin in pride. “Your old room is mine. Since you’re shacking up with Kara anyway.”

  Jax barks out a laugh. “I like this guy.”

  Eric frowns. “There need to be at least eight Lights to bond you together. Without enough Lights to spread out your power, it could harm them.”

  “So we’re missing two?” Kara says.

  Sid’s gaze moves from me to Kara and back again. “How do you feel about Rebecca, Aidan? Since the exchange between her and Kara, things have changed, haven’t they? Is she linked to you in any way still?”

  “What do you mean?” I ask. “Of course she’s linked to me.” But the answer comes out quicker than it should’ve, because as soon as the words escape, I realize it’s not that simple. Things have changed, and I’m not sure where Rebecca fits. When I’m with her, it’s completely different. As if whatever tied us together was severed.

  Kara gives me a doubtful look. “You’re positive about that?”

  I reform my answer. “No, you’re right, it’s not the same. But how can I tell if the connection’s really gone? I have no clue what these Lights feel like. Everyone just seems like a friend. Normal, really. Except Rebecca. She’s the only one I felt a strong connection with that I couldn’t explain. And now I just don’t know.”

  “Well, let me ask you this,” Eric says. “If I had told you that Connor was killed in the ER incident, what would you have felt?”

  I glance over to Connor. Just seeing how I hurt him is giving me a million regrets. His eyes seem almost lost, and the smell of weighty exhaustion around him permeates the air. I did that. And I’m horrified. Devastated. So if I hadn’t just hurt him, but had killed him? I can’t imagine.

  Eric moves to Connor’s side. “Come stand with him, Aidan. Let me show you.”

  I move hesitantly to obey, my guilt rising as I get closer.

  “Hold your marked hand out to Connor,” he says. “As if you were going to give him something.”

  I hold out my hand, palm up.

  “Now you, Connor,” Eric instructs. “But place your palm above his.”

  Connor shifts on shaky legs and reaches out, moving his hand over mine.

  Instantly the mark on my chest twinges.

  Connor hisses in pain, jerking back. “Shit.”

  “That is the connection,” Eric says. “Only it hasn’t been solidified yet. You appear to have a very strong bond with Connor, more than the others—besides Kara, perhaps. Most likely because you’ve spent more time together and there’s a true friendship growing between you. And Connor, that feeling you get, that’s Aidan’s power seeking out yours.”

  “Like it did with Rebecca that time in the kitchen,” Kara says. “You said your power climbed over her skin.”

  “And now you’ve taken Rebecca’s place in all this, Kara,” Sid says, then he looks to me and asks, “How does your power react to her?” motioning to Kara.

  I try not to turn six shades of red. I don’t really want to answer that in this room full of people. And how would I even form the words to describe the feeling of her touching me, the way it seems to heal me? How do I explain that the last two times I’ve been with Kara, since the exchange happened, the room glows in golds and blues as our energy twists together?

  Yeah, my power definitely likes her.

  Jax laughs and hits Raul’s arm. “Wow, he’s the color of Holly’s favorite shirt.”

  “Shut up, asshole,” Kara says over her shoulder. But her focus stays on me, like she’s worried about what I’ll say.

  “So your power is affected by her, then?” Eric says quietly, a smile in his voice.

  I clear my throat. “It�
�s like my power wants to protect Kara, more than before. As if it’s constantly trying to bring her closer.”

  “It makes sense that Kara would be the Light now, rather than Rebecca,” Eric says. “When Rebecca’s attachment to you shifted to Kara, the role she was meant to play shifted as well. This could mean her role as a Light was taken away completely, unless a piece of it still remains deep down.”

  That idea sinks into my gut like a rock. Even if what Rebecca and I had wasn’t romance, it was still something. I haven’t seen her since she left the house last week, after her stay. She was distant and sad. And I’m the bastard who hasn’t called to make sure she’s doing all right. Some friend I am.

  “But that’s still only six Lights,” Jax says. “Or seven if Rebecca hasn’t totally been fired.”

  And something dawns on me. “Wait a second. If my power is meant to protect, or link with the Lights, then why did it hurt Connor? I don’t get how that’s going to be a good thing.”

  “Your power is becoming more dangerous,” Eric says. “Especially to your Lights, if they randomly link with you—like what happened with Connor. They will need to be bonded to you and your power in a specific way. You need to allow the hidden passages in the journal to show you the path to accomplish that bond. Then things will balance out again.” He motions to where the book is sitting on the barstool. Raul grabs it and brings it to me.

  I take the journal and study the worn leather. It’s like a counter to my mother’s grimoire. I just wish it had told me everything from the beginning instead of doling out answers one at a time. God forbid this destiny stuff be clear.

  I try to recall how I revealed the first hidden passage. It had something to do with being pissed off, I remember that. And my blood. I open the book and flip through a couple pages. It did something when I gripped it—

  I release a grunt as I hold the leather, biting back the pain as needles stab at the pads of my thumbs again. And then my blood drains out, threading across the pages, filling the space with new text.

  I look over the lines as they clarify themselves more. “It’s an angelic language.” This time the text fills both pages, lighter here, darker there, creating shadows and other shapes within the text itself. A crescent within a larger circle. A cross as the largest symbol, at the upper center of the crescent, along with several other symbols scattered throughout. Wait, that’s not a regular cross, it’s some kind of a knot-like design. Reminds me of the Celtic symbol for unity. This is no simple drawing, no simple instruction manual. It pulses with heat and power in my hands.

  “It’s a spell,” Eric says. “A bonding spell. But I haven’t seen one like this in a very long time.”

  I really don’t want to do a spell that’s so freaking huge. I really don’t want to cast at all. Ever. Magic is all too unpredictable.

  “Bonding powers isn’t easy,” Eric says, “so I assume that’s why this spell reaches such a level. But we need to do it as soon as possible to help protect everyone and disperse your power, even just a small amount.”

  “Didn’t we just say we don’t have enough Lights yet?” Kara asks.

  “So we find them,” Eric says. “As quickly as we can.”

  I don’t want to bond myself even more to people, not with Ava out there, playing this game of wills. I can’t let more people I care about be put in my sister’s path. And maybe I need to be dangerous right now; I need as much power as I can get if I’m going to stop her.

  “I have to deal with my sister,” I say. “Before anything else. I can’t let this go on. I can’t let her game kill anyone else.”

  “You won’t stop her alone, Aidan,” Eric says, his tone turning dark. “And this spell might be the only way to protect the people you care about.” He glances at Kara and a sharp twinge spreads through my chest.

  I turn away, the weight of it all falling over me. Who am I kidding? The people I love are already in Ava’s path. And Eric’s right, I can’t do this alone.

  “We know of at least one other possible Light,” Sid says, leaning on his cane as he hobbles up behind me. “You need to speak to her, Aidan, to see her and read her, and decide what your heart says.”

  “Yes,” Eric agrees. “If she’s still with us, that will leave only one we need to find.”

  One. One Light in a city of more than eighteen million souls. Is he kidding? Unless that person is already in our circle, there’s no way.

  EIGHT

  Rebecca

  This is a crazy, horrible, bad, bad idea. I should not be going to the projects alone at night. My dad—and probably every friend I’ve ever had—would say that I shouldn’t be going to the area at all. But I’m not sure what else to do. This last week and a half have been hell. I need to figure this out, and it won’t get fixed with me just sitting here.

  Connor texted and said that he’s not feeling good, so our “date” to investigate the Hollywood sign isn’t happening. Probably for the best with the way I’m feeling. My dad went to the office for the evening, since Connor wasn’t coming, and I told him that I’m going to spend the evening at Apple’s house. My dad doesn’t know her parents very well, so he won’t call their house to check. He’ll stick to texting me.

  I’ve mapped the route to Miss Mae’s place, and I’m good. I’ll be there and back in plenty of time. No one will know that I was ever gone. I texted Samantha and let her know about my lie, in case my dad calls her parents for some reason. I still haven’t heard back from her, but it doesn’t matter.

  I’m wearing dark, ratty jeans and Charlie’s black hoodie, which I’m swimming in. I have three hours before my dad’s back home and notices I’m gone, so it’s now or never.

  After gathering a few things in a bag, including a flashlight, a couple of drawings, and the soul map Miss Mae made for me last time—large splotches of blood on white velvet that I can’t understand at all—I head out to the garage and get behind the wheel of my dad’s Mercedes. It’s brand new and smells like a leather shop. My gut churns, thinking what he’d say—yell—if he caught me right now.

  I back the car out of the garage slowly, then down the driveway. It takes me a second to see the dark figure in the rearview mirror. Standing right where I’m headed. Luckily I’m only going two miles an hour.

  I slam on the breaks, jerking the car to a stop just before the bumper hits the person, who seems to not be paying any attention. What an idiot. I could’ve run him—her?—over, and then I would’ve dented my dad’s—

  A knock on the driver’s window makes me jump.

  I squint at the brown-haired head and roll my window down. “Samantha? You scared me to death, what are you doing?!”

  “I’m staging an intervention.” She folds her arms across her chest. “We need to talk.”

  “You’re crazy. You couldn’t just call?”

  “I needed to see your face when I ask you.”

  “Ask me what?”

  “What the hell is your damage?”

  I lean back and sigh. “Nothing. This isn’t something I want to talk about now. I need to go. I—”

  I stop talking as she walks around the front of the car to the other side. She opens the door and gets in, settling into the passenger seat. “Then let’s go.”

  I just stare at her, dumbfounded.

  “Well?” She gives me a challenging look. “Let’s go do this very vital thing at seven o’clock at night. In your dad’s brand-new Mercedes. Must be imperative.”

  “Get out of the car, Sam. You can’t go with me.”

  “Why? Am I not dressed badly enough? What are you wearing?”

  I growl under my breath and put the car in reverse again, backing the rest of the way out of the driveway. Maybe if I take her into the projects, she’ll back off. “Fine. You won’t like it, though.”

  “Whatever.”

  It’s a good twenty minutes before we start getting into the part of town that’s not so shiny, and I can see Samantha slinking down more and more in her seat the deep
er we get into graffiti-filled streets.

  “Are you buying drugs?” she asks in a high-pitched whimper.

  “If I said yes would you let me drop you off at the mall?”

  “Very funny.” After a few more minutes, she seems to deflate. “Please, Emery, I’m really worried. You’ve been acting so crazy weird, and I can’t lose you to rehab or something. You’re my best friend, and you tried to kill yourself a month and a half ago! You have to tell me what’s going on. Why do you keep hanging out with all these rebel guys who punch your friends and carry emo girls from parties, or stalk you in their ratty Jeeps? Who are they? You haven’t been the same since you stayed with them. And now you flip out at Apple? You know how she is. She’s already putting together a campaign to get you shunned out of the group. This is no way to start off senior year, Emery.”

  “It doesn’t matter what Apple does, Samantha.”

  She reaches over and takes my hand. “I get that you’re sad, you know . . . about Charlie. I’m sorry if I haven’t been there for you enough. I’m so dumb, I never know what to say.”

  “It’s all right, Sam. You’ve been great.”

  “Not really.” She lowers her head. It looks like she might be crying.

  My heart softens at her guilt, her self-criticism; she’s not just being selfish, she’s obviously worried about it all, and I don’t want her carrying my stuff, too.

  “A lot’s happened since Charlie died,” I say, not sure how much I can explain right now, or what I can explain at all. “I’ve closed myself off lately, I know. It’s not easy to talk about everything. But I can start with how I got this, I guess.” I hold out my arm, bringing her focus to my scar.

  She wipes her cheek with the hem of her green cashmere sweater and looks at the mark, the long line of twisted flesh running from wrist to elbow.

  “I didn’t do this to myself,” I say.

  She goes still. Even the air seems to be waiting for me to just come out and say it all. But Samantha isn’t ready for that yet. So I say the simplest part. “It was a guy that cut me. He seemed to be . . . possessed.”