Darkness Savage (The Dark Cycle Book 3)

by Rachel A. Marks

  He looks up to meet my gaze. “I’m not a good person, Rebecca. I never have been. I’ve told you that.”

  I have no clue how to respond. I could argue, but right now I’m just trying to figure out where this is coming from. And he’s right, I’ve only known him a little while. But I was really starting to care about him. It felt real. And safe.

  “I didn’t want to get so close, to feel this way for anyone again. I’ve hurt too many people, I—” His voice cracks, breaking something in me, too. “I’ve done things. Very bad things, Rebecca. And I wasn’t even going to tell you, that’s how big of a bastard I am. But this spell today, what we’re about to do, I don’t know what it might mean, for you, for me, all of us. And I feel like it’s wrong of me to keep it all from you now.”

  I can’t speak to even ask what this horrible secret is. It all feels too huge, the emotions, the pain in his eyes as he looks into mine.

  His hands are shaking when he finally whispers his confession, “I hurt a girl once. We were both high, and I don’t remember half of it, but she woke up with bruises on her arms and her neck. From my hands.” He looks at his palms and his voice twists. “She died the next day. The cops said it was an overdose, but I know she killed herself. Maybe because of whatever happened. She’d threatened to do it before. And I just pushed her, like I wanted her to do it. I was always—” He chokes up, and his head falls into his hands. “I don’t remember what I did to her that night, why she had the bruises. I don’t remember anything. But, I know what I come from; my dad beat me, my mom actually cut me when I pissed her off. I’m rotten because of everything they did to me.” He looks back up at me, pleading. “I mean, how could I hurt a girl, ever? If that’s inside of me . . . I have to protect you, Rebecca. You’re lovely and good and . . .” He shakes his head, not able to say any more.

  “Connor . . .” I go to him, I can’t help myself. I kneel at his feet and take his hands. I swallow the ache in my throat and try to speak. “You’re so wrong. You’re not rotten. You can’t blame yourself for—”

  He pulls away. “Didn’t you hear me?”

  “Yes!” I stand, my frustration rising with me. I get why he didn’t tell me, I get why he’s pulling away, but it doesn’t make it any easier. “You want me to be pissed at you? You want me to hate you?”

  He averts his gaze. “Yes.”

  But I know he doesn’t mean it. I move to sit beside him on the couch, not sure what to feel about it all. He says he hurt a girl, I should believe him. But when I look at him, the guy who’s more patient with me than anyone, the guy who made me feel like I could be whole again, it’s impossible to believe. He’s talking about a completely different Connor.

  “So you pulled away because you thought you’d hurt me?” I ask, finally.

  “I let us go too far,” he says, his voice colder now, under control. “I’d made a promise to myself not to get too close, to hold back with you. But I lost control. If your father hadn’t come in, I wouldn’t have stopped what was about to happen, damn the consequences. You deserve more than me, Rebecca.”

  I shake my head at his blindness. “Gee, you’d think I’d be able to decide for myself who I want, but I guess not.” I stand, the urge to punch him rising again. “There were two people in that moment in my living room, Connor, but apparently I don’t count. How weak do you think I am? Do you really see me as some damsel in distress that just needs to be saved, protected? From myself? From you?”

  I release a growl and step closer, kicking his shin, surprising even myself.

  He grunts out a curse and stares up at me. “What the hell?”

  I feel crazy but I want to do it again. “Stop being a martyr and be honest. You’re afraid.”

  “Of course I am!” he snaps.

  “But not because you could hurt me, you’re afraid because you can’t control this.” I wave my hand between us. “You can’t stay in your stoic shell anymore. And now you’re pulling away because you’re a coward. You’re afraid of getting hurt yourself.”

  He just looks at me, his mouth open.

  “Well, I was scared, too!” I say, my voice getting shrill. “But I was ready to take the leap with you. And then you hurt me. Yes, you’ve already hurt me, Connor. So whatever it is you were trying to spare me from, you failed. You’ve taken my heart. And then stepped on it.”

  I turn and head for the door, fire coursing through my veins. I need to get away from this, all of it.

  He comes after me, taking my arm and stopping me. “Please, Rebecca.” He moves to stand in front of me, blocking my path. “I don’t . . . I can’t . . .” but he can’t seem to form words to explain. Instead he reaches out and touches my cheek. “Please, I need to fix this.”

  “You need to decide what you want, Connor,” I say through the tears filling my throat. And then I push past him and leave the apartment, leave my confusion and my need for him behind.

  As the door closes, I tell myself that it’s for the best. I think of the green light in my hands and wonder if maybe he’s right, we were just going to hurt each other. I could lose myself to this thing growing inside of me. I could already be lost.

  I ignore the cracking in my heart and walk away.

  THIRTY-ONE

  Aidan

  I’m hit with Rebecca’s heartache as soon as she comes out of the apartment onto the landing that overlooks the inside of the warehouse. She tries to hide the emotions roiling inside her as she comes down the stairs, but they’re pulsing from her as she walks toward where we’re preparing for the spell.

  I rise from my attempt to draw the intricate symbols on the cement floor and go to her, pulling her aside. “Are you all right? What happened?”

  She shakes her head, eyes turning red.

  I want to comfort her, to hug her, but I know that might give the others the wrong idea. So I just squeeze her shoulder and whisper that I’m here to talk if she needs me.

  She nods and looks to the chalk drawing I’ve started on the floor. “So, is this the spell?” she asks, obviously trying to distract herself.

  “Yeah.” I turn to the white markings, feeling how unbalanced it is still. “I’m not doing it right, though, I don’t think.”

  “Where are you seeing this? In your mind?”

  I laugh and pick up the journal, showing her the blood ink on the pages. “No, these are the instructions.”

  She starts to comment but then pauses when Connor comes out of the apartment and heads down the stairs. She watches him as he crosses the room, her eyes never leaving him as he walks over to Holly and Raul who are setting up the altar near the row of office windows. Finger is standing close but keeping to the shadows, watching everyone intently and looking very uncomfortable about being out of the house. Tray and Jax are off to the side, talking softly.

  Sid’s in a chair by the door, Kara standing at his shoulder like a centurion. At seeing me and Rebecca together, he struggles to rise. Kara moves to help him, and lets him lean on her as they come closer.

  “Is something amiss?” he asks.

  “Everything’s fine,” I say.

  Rebecca points to a part of the image on the page of the journal. “If this is the section you’re drawing, then I see what you mean. That crescent shape is at the wrong angle. It needs to tip more toward the oval symbol here.” She moves her finger from one shape to another, her features focused, and I realize I shouldn’t be the one drawing this. This is her gift, not mine.

  I hold out my piece of chalk to her.

  She looks from the offering to my face with a question in her eyes.

  “You’re the artist,” I say with a smile.

  She gives a little smile back. She plucks the chalk from my fingers, and settles onto the floor with the journal opened beside her. She looks intently over the pages for several minutes, then begins to slide the chalk over the cement.

  “Very good,” Sid says as he watches her, nodding. “Yes, this is good.”

  And it is. The confidence
she has in her task raises mine. After watching for a while I leave her to work on drawing the complex spell and go over to Tray, make sure he’s all right.

  “How’s your sister?” I ask him and Jax, who’s standing beside him. Jax smells even more anxious than Tray does.

  “Our mom has her at the house,” Jax says, “so the wards will protect them, at least until we can finish this.”

  Tray shifts on his feet. “I really appreciate your help, man. Seriously.”

  I nod, unsure sure how to answer. It’s not like I’m doing anything. “So, you’re sure you’re okay with this?” I ask, motioning to Rebecca’s growing drawing of the spell. “I have to be honest with you, we’re not sure what it’ll do exactly.”

  “It’s fine, worth it to try. And I know Kara trusts you. And my brother. So I will, too.”

  I glance at Jax and wonder what he’s said to Tray about me. I’m surprised he’s said anything positive. “Okay,” I say. And then I leave them and go over to help Holly and Raul figure out the oils and other herbs, which ones to put where. After a good twenty minutes Rebecca’s voice breaks through our organizing.

  “I think I’m almost done,” she says, sitting back on her heels.

  I look over to her drawing, and my insides kick like a jolt in my chest.

  Everyone steps closer, gazing down at the labyrinthine details of the artwork. It’s stunning. Beautiful. Its subtle power hums at the air the longer I look at it. And I know Rebecca’s right, it’s almost done.

  “You rocked this, chica,” Raul says.

  Holly shakes her head in amazement. “It’s crazy detailed.”

  “Wow,” Tray and Jax say at the same time.

  Connor stands beside Finger, looking stoic, a shadow over his features, and I wonder again what’s going on with him.

  “How annoying, Miss Perfect,” Kara says with a smirk. When Rebecca glances at her, she winks.

  “I may have overdone it,” Rebecca says, her cheeks pink from all the attention. Most of them have never seen her artwork.

  The floor is covered in different shades of white chalk, making the design look like it’s emerging from the ground. As if it’s moving and alive. The curves seem ready to rise and cut into the air, the circles have become spheres that could roll away. And the lettering, the runes, could be carved out of the earth. I can almost I hear them each whisper their sounds and incantations.

  A part of me wonders how much of the power is from the drawing, and how much was placed into it by Rebecca’s hands. It felt as if it was buzzing on the page, but now it feels wide-awake.

  She takes the time to work a little more around the edges, then proclaims the piece finished. Holly begins placing oil on everyone’s foreheads, and Raul walks around the circle three times with a smudge, like the instructions say. Jax and Tray move closer, and Kara settles Sid back into the chair against the wall so he can watch. They all seem to be embracing the moment; it’s a relief to watch. Only Finger and Connor stay on the rim and wait.

  Rebecca and Holly are talking about where we should all be standing during the spell when I move next to Connor. I lean on the wall beside my friend and feel Finger’s hold on him, like the silent boy’s trying to calm Connor’s obvious turmoil.

  “I ruined it,” he says, his eyes locked on Rebecca. “I’ve lost her.”

  “She’s not that easy to lose,” I say, still unclear what could be going on between them.

  He looks at me sideways.

  “Just trust her,” I say.

  “Have you ever looked at my soul?” he asks, surprising me. “Like you have the others.”

  I turn to him and meet his gaze. “Yeah.” He seems to be waiting for me to elaborate so I say, “I saw handprints and the mark of a thief on the back of your shoulder—I assumed it was from when you were a drug addict.”

  He chews on the answer for a second and then asks, “Are there any marks from me trying to hurt anyone? Violence or murder?”

  I see he’s desperate for the answer, and terrified of it at the same time. “No, Connor,” I say quietly. “You don’t have violence in you.”

  He’s not sure what to do with my answer, but he nods and looks back at Rebecca, not asking anything else.

  Everyone is gathered around the spell now, attempting to find their places in the pattern on the floor. I step forward to see if I can figure it out, but Finger surprises me, placing a hand on my shoulder to stop me. He gives me a look and nods, like he’s saying he’s got this.

  He walks over to the others and, one by one, puts each of them into the crescent pattern in the shape of an arrow, bodies facing at an inward angle. Jax and Tray at either end, just within a hand’s reach of each other. Then Raul in front of Jax, and Holly in front of Tray. Connor in front of Raul and Kara in front of Holly. And then he motions for them all to hold hands as everybody faces the large symbol for unity between Connor and Kara.

  I realize . . . that’s where I’ll stand, in that intricate weaving of lines. But Finger still hasn’t placed himself or Rebecca.

  He takes my hand, takes Rebecca’s, and then leads us over to the spot where the unity symbol is. He places Rebecca in front of Connor and me in front of Kara. He situates us until we’re facing each other, like a couple getting married, and then he steps back to look at everyone, as if he’s making sure it’s correct.

  I want to ask why I’m standing with Rebecca, facing her, why I’m not alone in the central spot, but I don’t. It’s not as if Finger could or would answer me anyway. And as I stand where I was placed, I begin to sense the vibrations of the markings at my feet, the hum of the magic now moving up my legs.

  Finger settles in front of Rebecca and me, like the tip of the arrow, and I realize he’s the one meant to be at the head of the group. He’s the link, just like he was when he helped Rebecca give her anointing to Kara.

  He nods at me, and somehow I know he’s saying for me to take Rebecca’s hands.

  “What’re you doing?” she whispers as I reach for her, giving Kara a nervous glance.

  “I think we’re still soul mates,” I say, shocking myself with the words as they leave my lips.

  Her eyes go wide, and the smell of her fear fills the space between us. “But I gave that to Kara.”

  “Maybe a soul mate isn’t like you’re thinking,” I say. “We’re friends.” I squeeze her hands and sense her relax a little.

  She gives a slight nod. “Friends,” she whispers back.

  Heat moves through my fingers where we touch. My palms tingle, and I realize the spell’s already starting. I realize I can’t move. I’m locked in and my power is beginning to flicker to life in my chest. Kara puts her palm on my shoulder, and Connor mimics her, placing his on Rebecca’s.

  Rebecca’s jaw tightens and she blinks like her eyes itch. Her hands grip mine even harder.

  “Oh, shit,” I hear someone say behind me—Tray, I think.

  I wonder if he feels it, too, the air charging, coming to life with electric vibrations. It absorbs into me as the atmosphere in the warehouse hugs my body, pressing in.

  Finger places his hand on Rebecca’s shoulder. He takes a deep breath, focusing.

  And then he puts his hand on my marked arm.

  My body jolts, muscles clenching, head snapping back.

  A burst of electricity cracks the air. Glass shatters, objects fly across the room and crash into walls, the garage door rattles. A storm of energy rises above us, misty clouds of blues and greens crackling overhead as wind begins blasting the pipes in the high ceiling and shaking the lights. Thunder rumbles, angry and troubled. It shakes the ground and shivers in the supercharged air sliding over my skin.

  My power courses through me, over me.

  There’s a gasp, and then another. Grunts of pain and shock.

  I try to move, to look. And the first thing I see is Finger. His whole body is covered in colored light, gold and green, mingling together as it slides in swirls across his body. The gold comes from me where
he grips my arm, and the green is spilling from Rebecca’s shoulder, joining mine at Finger’s chest, where they entwine, only to trickle down like a strange waterfall over his stomach and down his legs, to the ground.

  It fills the drawing at our feet in a gleam of marbled light. White rays slice the air here and there around the pattern where the runes are. Each time a burst comes, one of the bodies in the circle reacts, bowing as if they can’t stand, shivering and chattering their teeth, or crying out in pain.

  The electric storm builds and builds inside the circle, inside of me. The power humming higher, coiling tighter, and flaring brighter. Until it’s all too loud, too much. I’ve gone deaf, the world’s gone white, and all that exists is the beat of my heart.

  Seconds pass. Minutes. Eons.

  Then a pulse of power blasts from the ground beneath us, just before it all falls into stillness.

  The hum dies. The air returns to normal.

  And all around us pieces of glass and broken plastic tink and ping back to earth, like odd-shaped rain.

  THIRTY-TWO

  Aidan

  Everyone opens their eyes slowly, their expressions full of hesitancy and trepidation.

  Jax breaks the silence first. “Holy fucking hell-tornado, Batman,” he says breathless. “What a rush.”

  We all stare at each other, like we’re not sure if we should move, we’re not sure of what just happened. Or what it could mean. My body aches, my muscles are stiff, skin stretched out, a more extreme version of how it felt after my powerburst yesterday, when the boy attacked Tray with the knife and that demon’s claws dug into me.

  Everything around us is in a shambles. It’s a good thing that the valuables are in the locked vault, because what was in here—chairs, boxes of stuff, papers—is strewn all over the place. The windows of the downstairs offices are all broken, and the roll-up garage door is bent outward.

  Sid is still in his chair, eyes wide as he grips the seat, like the wind tried to lift him out of it.

  But we’re all okay; everything seems fine.

  People start to move from their spots now, feet a little unsteady.