Darkness Descends: A Skye Faden Novel

by Alisha Ashton

  Latharn inclined his head to her in appreciation. Now that the clan was out of his hands for the first time in 4,000 years, he was understandably eager for a bit of downtime.

  Skye inclined her head to him in response, still wishing that she could have kept him close by. She supposed she owed it to him to respect his wishes in this.

  With a sigh, she went on, “And now, my King and my Dark One will voice their selections for our pack. I have asked for their input as they have known you all for just a tad bit longer than I have.”

  The men all laughed warmly in response.

  She watched intently as Taran and Ciaran called upon more members of their new pack. She made a point of trying to remember every face, every name, because – after all – this was to be her family.

  Epilogue

  TWO WEEKS LATER

  “Aodh, do you see my other boot?” Skye pleaded as she continued searching under the bed.

  He shrugged behind her before shaking his head and lifting the closest chair to check beneath it.

  “Yes, that’s very helpful,” she grumbled sarcastically in response to his silent question. “Don’t you think if I knew the last place I’d seen it, I’d already have the damned thing?”

  Miko knocked on the doorframe, poking his head in to ensure there was no nudity before entering.

  “You guys ready?” He asked, inclining his head to Aodh and looking around for Skye and the others.

  “Have you seen my boot anywhere?” She called as she popped up from beside the bed, holding up the one boot she could find for comparative purposes.

  “Nope, can’t say that I have,” he told her before laughing and pointing at her hair. “Think you might wanna run a comb through that before we go out in public? You’re gonna scare the locals,” he warned.

  “Hardy-har-har. Laugh it up, but if I don’t find my boot, I’m not going anywhere,” she insisted.

  “Why are you asking me, anyway?” Miko asked as he plopped down in one of the chairs and made himself comfortable. He swung his legs over the arm and fished his cell phone out of his pocket. “I only just got out of the damned hospital. Where are the members of the official Skye-Jockey-Team?”

  Skye arched a brow at him, trying like hell to suppress a smirk at his latest title for her men.

  “After all, they are the ones always pulling clothes off of you,” he offered. “Seems like it would make more sense to ask them.”

  “Yeah well, I intend to – if they ever get back, that is. They went out a few hours ago to get supplies for the trip or something,” she said distractedly as she wandered into the bathroom.

  Aodh smiled watching her hobble as she pulled on her lone boot.

  “Supplies?” Miko repeated incredulously, calling to her over his shoulder without ever taking his eyes off the game he was playing on his phone. “What the hell kind of supplies are they gonna need? It should be like, ‘Fangs? Check. Claws? Check. Over 4,000 years’ experience whooping ass? Check. Okay, cool, we’re good to go’.”

  “Huh?” She called over the ruckus of things being overturned in her search. “Oh, I don’t know what they were getting – I didn’t think to ask.”

  “Right,” he breathed with a skeptical smirk. “The queen of query ‘didn’t think to ask’ where her boy-toys were running off to just a few hours before our flight. More like she hadn’t regained her powers of speech from the last romp before they took off,” he muttered, which earned a silent laugh from Aodh.

  “Well tha’s more or less accurate,” Ciaran agreed as he entered the room. “Mornin’,” he greeted cheerfully.

  “Ooh! Ciaran, great – you’re back,” Skye called as she rushed out of the bathroom busily braiding her hair. “I can’t find my... Hey, you got a haircut!” She noted happily.

  “Oh...” he breathed and reached up to his hair guiltily for a second, as if he had not intended for her to see it yet. “Yeah, tha I did. And the survey says... ?” He asked as he ruffled his significantly shorter jet-black locks.

  “Survey says you rock spiky hair incredibly well,” she offered in the breathy voice that always drove him wild.

  He grinned wickedly and waggled his eyebrows, knowing by her scent just how much she approved of the new look.

  Miko cleared his throat noisily, reminding the amorous pair that there were others present in the room.

  Skye laughed and – upon recalling what she needed to ask – temporarily abandoned checking Ciaran out.

  “Do you know where my other boot is? I’ve been looking everywhere,” she whined.

  “Might wanna try up top the wardrobe there,” Ciaran offered, pointing behind Aodh and smirking as the giant reached up to retrieve it.

  “How the hell did it get all the way up –?” Miko began before shaking his head adamantly. “Nope, never mind, I don’t wanna know. Forget I even asked. With you three freaks, the answer probably involves a swing or something.”

  Ciaran shook his head. “Far too soon to need anything quite tha inventive. It was just in Taran’s way, is all. Got tossed off in a fit of... ‘post-resurrection bliss’, if ya will.”

  “Dude, Tar got resurrected – what – like two weeks ago? You mean to tell me she hasn’t been fully clothed since... ?” Miko started to ask.

  At Ciaran’s impressed nod and Skye’s guilty clearing of throat, he trailed off.

  “Freaks!” Miko breathed in disbelief. “All right, fine – but speaking of the recently-though-only-temporarily-deceased, is he ready to go yet or what? We need to get rolling soon or we’ll miss our flight,” he said, pausing his game long enough to check the time.

  “Tha’s the very reason I’m here,” Ciaran said with a wide grin and looked over at Skye. “A stóirín – I’ve something to show ya.”

  “Really? What’s that?” She asked suspiciously as she pulled on the elusive boot and tied its laces.

  “Ah, I heard no mention of ‘tell ya’. I believe I said ‘show ya’, did I nah?” He taunted and held out a hand. “So, are ya coming along or what?”

  She smirked at the mischievous twinkle in his eye.

  “All right,” she agreed as she took his hand. “Since you’re so obviously up to no good, you can count me in.”

  “Ooh, tha’s my girl,” he purred as he pulled her toward him.

  “It’s not a kinky new toy or something, is it?” Miko asked with an arched brow. He was trying to gauge whether it was safe to follow along and find out what the surprise was to stem his own curiosity.

  Ciaran laughed. “Nah, but ya’d best be careful – with the way ya keep asking after our sex lives, I’m beginning to wonder whether you’re lobbying for an invitation, pet.”

  At that, he blew Miko a kiss and winked at him. He struggled to keep a straight face when Miko’s expression contorted in horror.

  “Dude! No!” Miko cried, growling in disgust and shifting uncomfortably under Ciaran’s roving gaze.

  “Aw, what are ya afraid of? Nah like I’m going to break ya. After all, you’re one of us now. Real sturdy-like, yeah? Think of it as an initiation of sorts,” Ciaran goaded, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

  He burst out laughing when Miko frantically climbed from the chair.

  “Skye!” Miko whined, twitching as if his skin was crawling. “Keep your freak on a leash, would you? And tell him to stop eyeing me up like prime rib!”

  “Oh, stop it. He’s only messing with you,” she said as she rolled her eyes. “And just so you’re aware, once he does decide to break you in, I’m sure he won’t give nearly as much warning,” she added matter-of-factly.

  “I swear to God, I’m gonna puke if you guys don’t knock it off,” Miko told her, gagging for emphasis as she and Ciaran both cracked up.

  “All right, enough playing around then. Don’t want ya damaging the carpet,” Ciaran teased. “To answer what ya really wanted to know, yes – it’s safe for ya to come along and see what we’ve in store for Skye.”

  “Was that so difficult?” M
iko asked as he fell in behind them.

  “Would have been far simpler for ya to ask what ya were really wanting to know to begin with, don’t ya think?” Ciaran countered.

  They descended the stairs and Skye got the feeling – judging by the expectant faces gathered in the main hall – that she was really in for something here. Eògan, Drostan, Latharn, and even Aiyana were all grinning like Cheshire cats as she approached, muttering to one another conspiratorially.

  “I got it. You guys brought me Brandubh’s head on a stick, didn’t you?” She asked with a smirk.

  “While I have to agree tha would be quite a thing to celebrate, this is just as wondrous a sight to behold,” Latharn told her with a wink.

  She eyed him appraisingly for a moment before motion behind him caught her attention. Her brow arched severely finding Aiyana mouthing ‘Oh my God, girl!’ over and over and nodding her head excitedly.

  Ciaran cleared his throat, motioning for everyone to be quiet. He took several steps away from the group, backing up until he was standing beside an opened door leading to a room with no lights on in its interior. Once everyone had settled down, he addressed Skye in a public tone.

  “Being as how we’re just hours away from flying to the States to launch the extermination...” he began.

  The men broke into cheers at that. After allowing them to carry on for a moment, he held up a hand.

  “We thought it best for ya to meet your new travelling companion,” he said with a grin, enjoying the confusion on her face for a long while before continuing. “Skye, it is my pleasure to introduce to ya to...”

  His voice suddenly sounded far away as a figure started toward her from the darkened room behind him. Her jaw hung open in disbelief, her breath caught in her throat and heart skipped a beat.

  “... the 21st century version of your mate and our brother, Taran!” Ciaran finished dramatically, holding up a hand to show him off as he stepped out into the light.

  Skye exhaled sharply in astonishment.

  Taran’s long, wild hair had been cut stylishly short. His long beard was now an expertly trimmed goatee, revealing the strong line of his jaw and making him – if at all possible – even more attractive. He was wearing a black leather bomber jacket, faded and weather-beaten to perfection. By the looks of it, he had purchased it in its exact state for – no doubt – quite a pretty penny. A close-fitting, marbled gray t-shirt was beneath, hugging the contours of his glorious chest and giving glimpses of his stomach above his belt as he walked.

  Oh, and bless his antique heart, he was even wearing a pair of jeans...

  Dear, sweet, fluffy LORD did he look good in jeans.

  “So wee one, what d’ya think?” He asked with a smile, holding his arms out and turning around for an inspection once he stopped in front of her.

  The men were instantly clapping and whistling their approval of the makeover. Aiyana cupped her mouth with her hands and added a howl to the mix until the others laughed and tousled her hair for it.

  Taran looked down at the clothing that was covering his usually bare chest disapprovingly.

  “Eh, I can nah say as though I’m crazy aboot all the layers,” he confessed as he shifted in the unfamiliar garments. “But – for this day and age – Ciaran informs me I should cover up a bit.” He smiled over at Ciaran, who was nodding in approval of the end result of all his advice.

  “You... you cut your hair,” Skye breathed in a daze, pointing up at the absence of long, braided, and wavy tresses.

  He nodded and laughed at her awestricken expression.

  “Aye,” he said, running a hand over his short hair self-consciously.

  After spending his entire life with it reaching, at the very least, the middle of his back, it felt strange for it to be just an inch in length.

  “I saved ya a lock, though, if it’s any consolation,” he offered before pulling a long, braided tress from his pocket and handing it to her. “The men assured me tha having it so long was a dated look. As in several centuries past its expiration.”

  He shrugged awkwardly, unsure of whether the stunned look on her face was a good thing or a bad thing. He lowered his voice, leaning closer and taking her hands in his.

  “I s’pose I just thought, with us going to your country, it’d be best if I looked the part,” he confided.

  He was beginning to worry over her silence. Perhaps this had not been as wise a decision as he and Ciaran believed it to be during the hours it had taken to accomplish.

  “So... do ya like it... or –?” He began anxiously, but was cut off when she leapt into his arms and kissed him deeply.

  “Ah, just to clarify, tha sort of reaction still means a resounding ‘aye’ in this century,” Latharn called over the laughter and cheers of the others.

  Taran laughed into her mouth as he scooped her up off her feet.

  “You look so freaking good, babe!” She insisted once she finally let him up for air. She gazed down at him in wonder, draping her arms around his neck as he held her up. “Not that you weren’t gorgeous before, but holy hell do you look fine now. I’m gonna have to beat girls away from you left and right.”

  “They can look - but they can nah have me, my love,” he assured with a wink.

  “I’ll have to teach you the meaning of the phrase, ‘mile-high club’ once we get on the plane,” she whispered.

  “I do nah have a clue what you’re talking aboot, but judging by tha look in your eye – I’d say I’m sure to enjoy it,” he laughed.

  “Definitely,” she purred. “You know, with this look you kinda remind me of someone,” she said, tilting her head to the side and studying him curiously as she tried to place the similarities in his features.

  “Aiyana keeps telling me I look like a ‘Gerard’ something-or-other from the ‘movies’,” he offered.

  “Holy shit, he does!” Miko cried in disbelief.

  “Doesn’t he?” Aiyana laughed.

  “Ya know, I’ve always thought tha. Perhaps they’re related,” Ciaran offered. “I mean it is possible, after all. Maybe we should check into the genealogy. Ya could pop on over and say, ‘hey, ya do nah know me, but I’m your great – to the power of a thousand – uncle’.”

  “Are there even any records that date back that far?” Aiyana asked curiously. “We have a hell of a time tracking down vamp origins prior to 1200 AD.”

  “Our records go back quite a bit further than tha,” Latharn assured. “Just a matter of devoting a few years to the task of looking – it’s nah as though they’re in a computer. We’d have to go through the physical documents one by one. In fact, our historians are set up over in the states in New York. Ya could just...”

  Miko waved the suggestion off dismissively. “Screw genealogy – you could be his stunt double! I mean, it’s not like you can get hurt or anything. Seriously, how much do stunt doubles make? This could be big bucks.”

  “Settle down, pup,” Latharn sighed. “We’ll nah be in need of any employment for quite some time.”

  “Went to the bank, did ya?” Eògan asked.

  “Aye, had to fund this new and improved Taran, now didn’t we? Along with the insane amount of new clothes Ciaran just had to buy whilst we were out,” Latharn said with roll of his eyes.

  “I’ll have ya know I look positively divine in every last one of those outfits,” Ciaran assured as he pointed over at Latharn. “My wearing them in public is a great and generous service to the world, it is. And besides, we couldn’t have Taran shopping alone, now could we? Had to show the man the styles of the day, yeah? Make sure he was comfortable and such.”

  “Tha wee bastard dragged me to at least another ten stores after I was finished shopping,” Taran whispered in Skye’s ear.

  She laughed at the revelation that Ciaran was a fashion-whore. She had to admit, though, if the outfit he was currently wearing had been picked up that day, he was wholly accurate in his assertion that he looked divine in it. His distressed denim designer jeans hug
ged him in ways that sent her temperature soaring. His white v-neck t-shirt served as a delicious reminder of just how toned his physique truly was. She sighed blissfully at that.

  “As I was saying, we had a makeover... and a closet shopaholic to fund,” Latharn continued. “Though, with the amount of hair they cut off Taran, we could have sold it to a wig-maker and easily paid for everything. Unfortunately, they had to go and tell us of some charity we could donate it to and – of course – like a pack of suckers, we signed away the rights to his mane,” he laughed as he pulled a paper from his pocket and reviewed it. “Ya know, I have nah been to tha bank in nearly 80 years. I’d forgotten how they react to our account. They just aboot fell over themselves to help me.”

  Miko’s face twisted in confusion as he stole a glance at the paper.

  “That’s a really long account number. Mine’s only like nine digits, but maybe it’s different over –” He stopped abruptly as his eyes widened in shock.

  Latharn smirked over at him.

  “Dude, is that the friggin balance?” Miko asked in astonishment.

  “Like I said,” Latharn laughed as he folded up the paper and placed it back in his pocket. “We’re in no need of employment.”

  “And we’ve still half the lower level filled with ‘artifacts’ to sell if we run through what’s in tha account,” Drostan added.

  “Ne’er would have believed just how much our old spears and torques and such would be worth after so many centuries,” Taran said and smiled up at Skye as she continued running her fingers through his short hair.

  “You sell your stuff to what? Like museums?” Miko asked.

  “Museums, universities, private collectors... We always have to set it up carefully, of course, so’s nah to raise any suspicions,” Latharn explained. “We find a bit of land owned undeniably by our kind and claim we dug it up there. After finding a buyer, we sell off the items and, if we want, the land as well so tha they can dig to their heart’s content searching for more.”