Darkness Savage (The Dark Cycle Book 3)

by Rachel A. Marks

  “My skin is vibrating, dude,” Jax says, studying his arms.

  Tray holds out a hand to show him. “Mine, too.”

  Holly is running her fingers over her face and eyes. “I need a mirror. I think my eyes are—” Her voice cuts off and a grin grows across her face. “I can see them,” she says, sounding giddy suddenly. “It’s Frank from my dream last night.” She waves at nothing, saying hello.

  Finger watches everyone, looking happy, his eyes sparkling. My gaze follows his around the room, and I find myself smiling like an idiot, too. We’re all okay.

  But then I notice Connor off to the side, like he’s trying to back himself into the shadows. His face is scrunched in what appears to be pain, and his hands are shaking, sweat glistens on his brow, dampening his hairline.

  “You okay?” Kara asks as she steps toward him.

  He shakes his head and moves away, like he’s scared of her getting too close. His eyes squeeze shut as he shivers. The smell of misery is like singed air around him.

  A flash of silver-white light comes from his fingertips, then sinks back in.

  He hisses in pain and folds in on himself. Like he did when my power touched him.

  “Connor?” I move closer, urgency filling me. “What is it?”

  “I don’t know,” he grunts. Another flash of white light, and he falls to his knees.

  Everyone converges. Rebecca falls to his side and tries to help, but he rolls into a fetal position, yelling at her, “Get back!”

  The light pulses in his hands once, twice . . .

  In a burst, it surges, an explosion of heat coating his whole body in the white glow.

  He screams in agony, and my insides panic, my own power flaring in response. But I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what’s wrong.

  Just as suddenly as the light had come, it sinks back into his body.

  He gasps, trying to catch his breath. After several tense seconds he tries to sit up, shaking.

  Everyone’s staring at him in shock.

  “That was his ability to heal awakening,” Kara says, sounding stunned but sure. “I felt something in me, like . . . like I just realized it. And I knew it was true. Connor will be able to heal us eventually.”

  “And apparently your thing is that you’ll know shit?” Jax asks with nervous laughter.

  “Like Aidan,” Holly says.

  “What about me?” Raul asks, fear in his voice. “What’s my crazy thing gonna turn into, compa?”

  I shake my head, feeling lost.

  Hanna rushes in through the side door. “Is everyone okay? I heard a scream.” And then she looks around her tattered warehouse, eyes widening. “Oh, my.”

  “Sorry,” I say. “Things got . . . out of hand.”

  “No, it’s . . .” but her voice fades as her gaze falls on Connor, who’s still sitting on the ground. “Connor, are you all right?” She walks toward him.

  Whatever just happened seems to be over for now. He runs a hand over his face and tries to get up. He won’t let anyone help him, though. He gets himself into one of the chairs with a sigh of exhaustion.

  Hanna turns to Sid. “Are they all okay?”

  Sid just shakes his head, still in shock. I wonder what it all looked like from his vantage point.

  “I think everyone’s fine,” I say, glancing again at Connor. He’s the only one who appears to have had an adverse reaction. But if what Kara said is right and that was just a part of his Awakening, then it means his body is accepting his power. If anyone knows the pain of that, it’s me. I vividly remember the fire in my skin during my Awakening. It felt like I was being burned alive.

  I want to go to his side, but it looks like he’d rather be left alone right now. Except for Rebecca. He’s letting her touch his shoulder in comfort.

  “Well, let me help,” Hanna says. “I can get some coffee, maybe some muffins for everyone or something. You all look very pale and worn down.”

  “You’re TBE, Hanna,” Holly says. “That would be awesome. I’m, like, scary starving.”

  Kara comes over to my side and takes my hand in hers. “Don’t worry,” she says. “It’ll be difficult at first, but this is all going to be good for them.”

  I squeeze her hand and touch my shoulder to hers. The feel of her skin sends a wave of calm over me. “And you know this, how?”

  She shrugs. “Mystery, mystery. This guy I know gave me some of his power, and I’m going to be figuring it out for a while.” Then she rises on her toes and plants a kiss on my cheek. “I’ll let you know when I do.”

  THIRTY-THREE

  Rebecca

  The sun is setting over the horizon as Connor pulls his Jeep along the curb in front of my house. He insisted on taking me home, even when Aidan and I argued against it. Connor still doesn’t look too good. Even after a meal and several hours of rest in the apartment, his eyes look tired and his hands are shaking a little. But he was determined not to let me go with anyone else.

  I should’ve been annoyed, or nervous to be alone with him, but I’m feeling surprisingly released from it all. As if the crazy explosion of power we all shared shed something from me.

  He didn’t say a word during the ride here and neither did I. I could sense that he wanted to, though. I can sense that he’s struggling with how to fix it all. I can sense a whole lot more than I could before.

  And I can actually smell something odd on his skin, like maybe his nerves are making him smell like burnt coffee. It’s weird.

  I get out of the Jeep, and he follows, coming around quickly to catch up with me. He walks beside me on the path to my front door, his body only inches from mine.

  “Are you going to be okay, Connor?” I ask as we come to the doorstep.

  He folds his arms across his chest, looking like he’s warding off a chill. “I’ve handled things with you . . . badly.”

  “Yes.” I sigh, not sure I can have this conversation again. “But what I meant was, are you going to be okay after the spell? Something’s hurting you because of it.”

  “I just can’t seem to get it right,” he says, like he didn’t hear me, like he’s not able to let go of what happened between us. “I said I didn’t want to hurt you, but I did. I keep hurting you.”

  “I’m tired, Connor. I’m not sure this can be fixed right now.” I try the doorknob but it’s locked, so I bend over to get the spare key under the potted plant. “Can we just call a truce?”

  “Rebecca,” he says, his voice beginning to waver a little. “During the bonding. Your magic. I felt it go through me.”

  I stand straighter and look up at him. “You did?” The only things I felt during the spell were the storm and the pain; this horrible sting in my skin that was like something sucking my insides out through my pores. It was all so overwhelming.

  “I felt you. Like I’ve known you my whole life.” He reaches out and his fingers slide over mine. “Your energy smelled like summer. Like a forest after the rain. And even though I know you’re not sure about . . . about us. Because of what I said. I wanted you to know . . .” He takes my hand in his and pulls me closer, leaning over me. He presses his forehead against mine gently, letting our breath mingle. “I wanted you to know I’m yours. And I’m completely wrecked that I hurt you.”

  My heartbeat stutters and I’m filled with confusion. I don’t know how to respond. I want to kiss him, I want to run away and cry.

  I pull back a little. “Goodnight, Connor,” I whisper, the pain clear in my voice. And then I unlock the door and slip the spare key into its hiding place again. I wait for him to move out of my way so I can go inside.

  “Connor, please—”

  His fingers reach out and graze my cheek, stopping all sensible thought as they slide into my hair, gripping me. Before I can absorb his touch, his lips cover mine, stealing my breath. The meaning flows through me, though. It takes hold of me, as strong as iron, and pulls me close. To him.

  And I let him kiss me. I let myself forget the w
ay he hurt me, as his hands move over my shoulders, my sides, my lower back. As his arms hold me to him.

  We slowly twist together until we’re nearly drowning in the moment. And I know this is desperation I taste on his lips, it’s sadness I feel in his skin. And all I can think is how much I want to heal him.

  “Come inside,” I whisper into the kiss. “Please.”

  He’s breathing hard as he presses his forehead to mine again. “We can’t.”

  He’s right. Of course he is. I don’t even know what’s going on between us right now. But a part of me aches, thinking he’s saying no because he’s pushing me away one more time.

  He kisses me gently, like he knows what I’m thinking. “We need to work this out first.”

  I nod.

  “I need to prove to you that I’m worthy.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “I want to,” he says. And then he pulls me into him again, his arms strong as they wrap around me, his chest warm against my cheek as he keeps me close.

  I take in his scent of salt and sun, and try to banish my doubt. Even when he releases me and walks away, I ignore the dread that fills me. I push back the sense of looming pain. I touch my fingers to my lips and pray that won’t be the last time I feel him holding me.

  Then I turn back and walk into the house, shutting the door behind me. I lean against it and cradle my head in my hands, trying to breathe and not let myself cry. After a few deep breaths the confusion and desperation still a little.

  I try to imagine peace and calm. I even imagine I can hear music in my head. Sad, aching music. A violin drawing low notes across the air.

  My eyes fly open.

  A violin.

  “You’re so tragic and adorable,” a small voice says over the slow notes. “You and Connor—I hate to admit it—I didn’t see that coming.” Ava appears around the corner from the living room, her violin pressed to her chin, the bow drawing mournfully over the strings. She wrinkles her face, looking displeased. “You don’t think he’s a bit . . . weak? I mean, compared to my brother . . .” She smiles wickedly. And begins swaying with the rhythm of her music.

  Her wild eyes are almost white, they’re so pale. A white sundress with faded yellow flowers flows around her bony knees with an unseen breeze, and thin silver lines web her bare shoulder and run down her right arm, as if her veins were filled with metal. Her bare feet are caked with dirt and muck to the ankles. I wonder suddenly if some of it is dried blood.

  I grip the door handle and start to press the top of it with my thumb.

  It clicks. Locks sliding into place.

  Ava clucks her tongue, lowering her bow and violin. “No, no, green witch. You can’t leave yet. There’s still stuff we need to chat about.”

  I slide along the door to the wall of the living room, panic rising. I’m trapped.

  She’s going to rip me to pieces.

  “Yes, I was going to kill you,” she says, her tone almost playful. “But then you had a bit of luck the other night, and I realized I was being so dumb. Why would I kill you when I could have you as my very own friend?” She shrugs and rolls her eyes, like she’s been so silly.

  “So,” she says, swaying back and forth, heel to toe. “I have a present for you. It’s in your backyard, a surprise.” She waves behind her to the French doors.

  A present. In my backyard? I do not want a present from Ava. Terror climbs in my throat as my mind ticks through the possible things it could be.

  “Don’t guess yet!” she says with a giggle. “Not until I go.”

  She’s reading my mind?

  “It’s just super big all of a sudden,” she says. “You’re as loud as my brother now.” She shrugs like it doesn’t mean anything. “You’re probably just lots more powerful than you were. Which is good. It means we’ll have more fun.” Then a troubled look surfaces in her pale features, and she says as if to herself, “As long as she doesn’t learn to block me out like he did.”

  She blows at her bangs and rolls her eyes again. “Well, your gift isn’t going to come get you, so you better scoot.” She motions to the back doors again. “I’ll see you soon.” And then she wiggles her fingers in a good-bye wave, just before the air cracks and she’s gone.

  The hair on my neck rises and my skin tingles with electricity.

  I look around the room worried it’s some sort of trick. She just came and went? She didn’t hurt me. She didn’t leave any dead things.

  She left a present in the backyard . . .

  Whether in spite of the gnawing fear or because of it, my feet move through the entry, past the dining room, to the doors at the back of the house.

  I push aside the white curtain with trembling fingers and look through the glass.

  The air freezes in my lungs. My throat fills with a cry of pain, of horror, that I can’t find the will to stop.

  Because, there, under the willow tree, only ten feet from the bench where I used to sit and read every morning in the summer—the bench that he built just for me—

  Is Charlie.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Aidan

  After Connor leaves with Rebecca, Finger and Sid leave, too, heading back to the house. Finger seems different than before the spell, less afraid, as if he’s finally found his place, and my heart feels lighter when I look at him. Before he left with Sid, I asked him if he was okay, and he just gave me a secret smile and put his hand on my shoulder. I didn’t think anything of it until I realized—Finger’s never touched me before—except during the spell.

  Connor hasn’t come back, and I wonder if he stayed with Rebecca, if he was able to fix whatever was troubling him, but then he texts that he’s headed to the house.

  He definitely needs rest. Whatever happened—or is happening—to him, it’s taken even more out of him than me touching him with my power did the first time. Kara assured me several times that he was okay, but that didn’t hold back my anxiety. And he was upset even before the spell. Something is tormenting him.

  Everyone else stays at the club, gobbling down everything Hanna feeds us until we’re stuffed and flopped all over the living room of the apartment.

  I’m sitting on the floor beside Kara, both of us facing the couch where Jax, Holly, and Raul are splayed out. Kara stays quiet as everyone says what they hope to gain from the spell, how fun it’ll be on their next job when they get to try out their new abilities—Raul wonders if he even got anything out of it, saying he doesn’t feel much different, that there was no aftereffect on his body like there seems to be with the others.

  “It’s ’cause you’re already perfecto, friend,” Holly says. She’s lying across the couch, her head in Jax’s lap, her feet on Raul’s.

  Tray sits at the small bar that divides the kitchen and the living room. He’s called the house to check on his mom and sister three times, and they’re apparently fine. Selena has been happily playing Xbox with Finger.

  “I definitely feel different,” Jax says. “Like . . . aware, or something.”

  “Yeah,” Tray agrees. “Me, too.”

  “Rebecca’s energy was crazy,” Raul says. “Did you feel how deep that girl is?”

  “Totally,” Holly says, nodding emphatically. “And so different from Aidan’s power.”

  “You felt our power?” I ask. “Like you could tell them apart?”

  Jax barks out a laugh. “A bit.”

  Then they all crack up, like the differences between Rebecca’s power and mine were so vast there’s an inside joke about it. I just smile and feel less alone than I ever have. Like I’m really known for the first time.

  “Well,” Kara says, “we could chat all night, but I think we should leave Aidan to sleep.”

  The others all look to her like they forgot she was here—she’s been pretty much silent since she said goodnight to Sid.

  “I don’t wanna leave,” Raul says. “I’m comfy. And who could sleep after all that?”

  “I’d better go check on my mom,” Tray say
s.

  Jax starts to rise, but Holly stops him and whines, “No, you guys can’t go. We should stay here tonight. All of us.” Both Kara and Tray protest, but she cuts them off. “Sid’s got Connor and Finger at the house, so he’s looked after, Kara. And, Tray, your mom and sister can sleep in my room. We know they’re safe at the house, so take a break from all that for once.”

  “Holly’s right,” I say. “Just stay here.” I reach over and weave my fingers through Kara’s. I don’t want to be alone yet. I realize I’ve needed this, this intimacy with all of them. “I’ll find some blankets and you guys can fight over the second bedroom and the couch.”

  It takes a minute but Tray relents. Kara seems content; she leans on my shoulder and listens as the rest of them keep talking, gossiping, and laughing. After another hour or so I get the blankets and pillows from the linen closet for them, then Kara and I break off to my bedroom.

  We strip down to our underwear for comfort before we curl into the king-size bed and expensive sheets. We huddle close and kiss for a little while. It’s easy, rhythmic and soft, as if we’re actually having a quiet conversation. I touch her cheek and whisper with my skin that I love her, she slides her fingers over my shoulder, and I feel her delicate hope in response. After a few minutes we pull apart.

  She sighs in contentment and stares at me with her light-blue eyes as my fingers slide through her hair.

  “I finally get it,” she says.

  “What?”

  “What it really feels like to be safe.”

  I can’t help the trepidation that stirs in my gut. I don’t want to say it out loud, but we’re not safe. Not yet.

  A soft smile makes her dimple appear. “You don’t need to frown, silly. I don’t mean physically. I mean in my heart.”

  I lean close and kiss the tip of her nose gently.

  She snuggles into my chest. “There’s this peace in me now. It’s so strong, like I’m anchored to an unmovable force. And I know, whatever happens, I’m going to be all right.”

  I hold her to me and feel her heart and mine beat in tandem. I listen to the silence and pray that her hope won’t be shattered. I pray for that same peace to fill my skin. And I ask God, ask the power inside of me, to accept her strength, her faith, as my own.