Kindling the Darkness

by Jane Kindred

  Oliver let him slip to the floor. “Darkrock did this.” His voice was unrecognizable. “They did this to me. To Vanessa.” Tears poured down his cheeks, steaming as they fell. “To Colt.”

  The word that Vanessa had said echoed in Lucy’s head, and she voiced it aloud. “Firecracker.”

  Something seemed to snap inside Oliver. As the rage exploded across his face, the tile beneath their feet began to melt, and in an instant, flames were licking up the walls.

  “Run,” he said, his voice like crackling fire, and Lucy ran for the stairs, charging up to the surface with Colt in her arms. The building was burning, and explosions were sounding throughout the compound. Ignoring the shouts of the operatives running past her in the opposite direction and the sprinklers raining down on her, Lucy burst through the door into the yard and took flight under the cover of night, carrying Colt’s body away and leaving Oliver to the inferno of his fury and grief.

  Chapter 26

  Lucy took Colt to the only person she could think of who might be able to save a hellhound: Fran.

  “He doesn’t deserve this.” Lucy felt hollow as she watched Fran work. “He killed that thing—the monster Carter used me to make. He protected us.”

  “I’ve stopped the bleeding, but he lost a lot. And there’s something else going on with him. His temperature is spiking. I don’t know what to make of it. It’s as though he’s fundamentally unwell. My guess is it’s something infernal. He might not be suited to living in this plane. I think the only thing we can do now is send him home.”

  Lucy exploded at her. “I am not going to use the Soul Reaper on him!”

  “Sweetheart.” Fran touched her arm gently. “I wasn’t suggesting that you shoot the poor thing. Of course not. But you need to contact Lucien.”

  “Oh.” For some reason, her eyes were stinging. She’d transformed back while Fran was working on Colt. It was probably just a residual effect of the shift in her irises.

  “You know it’s okay to care about him. To care about anyone.”

  “Ha!” The sharp, dismissive laugh circumvented a less dignified emotional response. “You make me sound like some cold, inhuman bitch.”

  “That’s not what I meant. I’ve watched you your whole life swallowing your emotions, believing they made you feminine and weak.”

  “That’s not—”

  “And I’m partly to blame for that. I gave in to Edgar. I relinquished my right to be your mother. I abandoned you.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “I did. Don’t do that.”

  Lucy scowled irritably. “Do what?”

  “Bury your hurt and anger under the Smok stoicism. Let everybody else off the hook but yourself.”

  “Well, what do you want me to do? Scream at you? Fly into a rage because I didn’t have a real mother because you protected yourself instead of protecting us? What goddamn good is that going to do either of us? Edgar made us both what we are.”

  “No. He doesn’t have the power to make you—or me—anything. Don’t give him that. He failed you, and I failed you, but that doesn’t define you, sweetheart. You are who you are—brilliant, strong, compassionate—because you have the power to be whatever you want to be. To feel however you want to feel. And to express it.” Fran touched her once more, despite knowing that Lucy didn’t do touching, and let her hand linger on Lucy’s forearm. “It’s okay to cry. It doesn’t make you weak.”

  “Dammit.” Tears were pouring down Lucy’s cheeks. “Maybe it doesn’t make me weak, but it sucks. It feels like shit. I hate it. I hate crying.” And now she was blubbering.

  She let Fran hold her, crying a little harder when she realized it was the first time she could remember her mother hugging her—partly because of the NDA Fran had signed relinquishing her parental claim but also because Lucy had always refused any displays of affection. It was sentimental. And made her have feelings. And she fucking hated feelings. Because feelings hurt. Like the little piece of glass that seemed to be stuck in her heart whenever she thought about Oliver’s bond with Vanessa—and that seemed to twist deeper when she wondered whether he’d made it out of the compound alive.

  By the time she’d pulled herself together, Theia had answered the text she’d sent her while Fran was stitching Colt up. Yes, she was still topside, and she’d go get Lucien immediately. They could meet at Phoebe’s place. The quaint, cozy ranch house seemed to be the hub for the Carlisle clan, despite the fact that Rafe Diamante owned several high-end properties around town.

  Fran helped Lucy load the unconscious Colt—still in wolf form—into Fran’s Range Rover, since Lucy had flown here. “Bring it back when you can.” She gave Lucy a quick little hug, which was really pushing it, but Lucy allowed it.

  Theia and Lucien hadn’t returned yet when Lucy arrived at Phoebe’s. Sometimes time passed at a slightly different rate when they were below. Lucy hoped this wasn’t going to be one of those times when an hour below was a day above.

  Phoebe helped her bring Colt inside and put him in the guest bed.

  Lucy observed him as Phoebe tucked a blanket around the little wolf. “He might shift when he wakes up.” If he wakes up. “I should go get him something to wear.”

  “I’ll text Laurel and have her pick up something. She’s on her way here to report back on her undercover assignment.”

  Lucy had forgotten all about the mole at Smok Biotech. “I’m not sure it matters what Laurel found out, to tell you the truth. Darkrock command bragged that they had someone inside, and they’ve blackmailed me into outing myself if I don’t let them basically destroy everything the company has worked for and let them take what they want.”

  “Well, just wait to see what Laurel has to say. You may be surprised.”

  Lucy raised an eyebrow but didn’t ask what that meant. Right now she was too tired and worried to care.

  “Around what size is Colt’s human form, would you say?”

  Lucy shrugged. “He’s about four and a half feet tall, maybe seventy-five, eighty pounds?”

  Phoebe texted the details to Laurel. “She’s on it.”

  Lucy doubted it would matter. From the way Colt was breathing, it wouldn’t be long before it became a moot point.

  “Do you want something to drink? I have hot mulled cider brewing for Yule—Leo wanted glögg, which I thought was mulled wine, but when I told him that, he said to leave it alone. He’d do it himself.” Phoebe laughed. “Apparently, real glögg is more like eating soggy chunks of drunk fruit and nuts out of a glass.”

  Lucy followed Phoebe down the hall while she chattered on. “Cider’s fine.” She hadn’t thought to drink or eat anything. Phoebe opened up a steaming slow cooker in the delicious-smelling kitchen to ladle out the drink. “Yule...isn’t that closer to Christmas?”

  Phoebe made a little obvious glance at the huge Christmas tree in the corner. Come to think of it, there were lights all over the outside of the house that Lucy hadn’t been paying attention to when she arrived. “What day do you think this is?”

  “Um...” God, what the hell day was it? Sometime in early December, Lucy thought.

  “Today’s the solstice. We’re celebrating Christmas early because Ione has to give a big convocation thing or something at Covent Temple, and Leo prefers to celebrate Yule, so it all works out.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I’d be interrupting a family gathering.”

  Phoebe handed her a mug of cider with a little half slice of orange on the rim and a cinnamon stick in it. “Lucy. You’re family. And I really should have invited you. I didn’t even think of it. I’m sorry. We didn’t think Theia would be able to get here for it, so it was just going to be small. But it’s all good.” She smiled and clinked her mug against Lucy’s. “I’ve got a huge rib roast in the oven.”

  So that’s what that fantastic smell was. She was actually
feeling a little faint with hunger now that she thought about it.

  Phoebe watched her for a moment. “There’s a tray full of saffransbullar and meat pies on the coffee table. Have a seat and dig in. That’s what they’re there for.”

  Lucy sank onto the couch and loaded a little plate with savory and sweet saffron buns. Her wyvern metabolism needed some serious replenishing.

  Laurel arrived shortly after, quickly followed by Rhea and Leo, while Phoebe made the introductions. Phoebe dragged them to the kitchen to help with chopping things, and the kitchen seemed to bubble over with laughter and joy. Lucy had always wondered what it would be like to have a sister. Or a joyous family celebration, for that matter. The Smoks’ had always been grand, solemn, corporate affairs designed to show off Edgar’s money and might.

  With her hunger slightly mollified, she set her plate down as Laurel sat in the chair adjacent to the table with a cup of cider. “So Phoebe says you have some news for me.”

  Laurel nodded, cupping her mug in both hands and breathing in the mulling spices. “First, I wanted to thank you for the job. Things were pretty tight this year, and I wasn’t sure how I was going to make my rent next month.”

  Lucy wasn’t sure what to say to that. She’d never even considered the idea of rent—or missing a meal, or having any material need met, really.

  “I’m glad it worked out for you,” she said awkwardly. She felt like an asshole.

  “Oh, I know it wasn’t about hiring me, exactly, so I’m just pleased that our needs coincided.” Laurel smiled warmly and took an experimental sip of cider. “Ow. Too hot. So here’s the thing.” She set the cup down on the table. “I don’t know if Phoebe mentioned to you that I have one of Madeleine’s gifts.” The Lilith blood passed down from Madeleine Marchant was the source of the Carlisle sisters’ abilities.

  “She didn’t, but I assumed you must. What’s your gift?”

  “I see certain near-future events when they intersect with events in front of me. It’s kind of hard to explain. It’s like a probability projection of the butterfly effect. If A happens, B will happen, causing C to happen and on down to the most likely outcome.”

  “And you saw something at Smok?”

  “I did. I mean, first, literally, I saw your assistant putting an entire terabyte drive in her purse. She wasn’t very subtle about it.”

  Lucy gaped. “Allison? She’s the mole? But I vetted and hired her myself.”

  “No, I don’t think she’s the mole.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I don’t think you have a mole. I think you have a magical virus. Something a certain necromancer put in place before he got dragged to hell.” Laurel wrinkled her nose with distaste. “It had his nasty smell all over it.”

  “A virus.” A vein throbbed at Lucy’s temple. She really wished she’d had the opportunity to punch Carter in the throat. “He infected my staff?”

  Laurel nodded. “All of them. They don’t even know they’re doing it, and no one notices it when anyone steals something right in front of them. I wear an amulet that prevents necromancy from affecting me. Otherwise, I think it would have just drifted onto me from close contact.”

  “Why don’t I have it?”

  “Because of your infernal blood, maybe?” Laurel shrugged. “I disinfected the place with some help from Ione, so I don’t think you’ll be having any more problems.”

  “Wow. Well, thank you, Laurel. I never imagined it would be something this widespread. Of course, it doesn’t actually matter now. Carter played every hand just perfectly to continue screwing Smok after his departure.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Stolen data and research were being sent directly to Darkrock, and they used Colt as leverage to get me to let them record my transformation. They’ve threatened to release the video if I try to sue them for anything they’ve done. They can just take it all now with impunity. Or I can let them release the video, and I can kiss everything goodbye.”

  “Colt is the little boy?” Laurel looked over at the bag she’d set at her side and passed it to Lucy. “Oh, here’s the clothing, by the way.”

  “Thanks.” Lucy rose. “I’d probably better check on him.” She started toward the guest room but remembered what Laurel had said about things being tight. Damn. She really needed to start paying more attention to her privilege. “How much do I owe you?”

  Laurel waved her away. “Oh, it was nothing. Don’t worry about it. I’m happy to help.”

  “Laurel.” Lucy walked back to the couch. “To me it’s nothing, because people have been giving me things all my life without me giving any of it a second thought. To you, it matters. Tell me how much it was.”

  Laurel blushed. “It really wasn’t much. I stopped at the dollar store.” Lucy took out her wallet and handed Laurel a one-hundred-dollar bill, but Laurel balked. “No, no. I mean it. It was like twenty-three bucks.”

  “I don’t have anything smaller. Just consider it a thank-you for everything you’ve done.” Lucy set the bill on the table and took the bag into the guest room.

  Colt’s condition hadn’t changed, except that he seemed even warmer now. She took out the clothes and removed the tags and laid them out on a chair just in case.

  As she adjusted the blanket around him, however, the rapid breathing sped up like an engine revving, and the wolf opened its eyes. Three things happened in rapid succession, almost too swiftly for Lucy to register: the wolf recognized her, Colt resumed his human form and a ball of fire seemed to roll off Colt’s skin and onto the bed, setting the bedding aflame.

  Colt bolted out of bed as if he meant to crash through the window, but Lucy grabbed him around the waist and swung him back toward her. He looked up at her with anxious eyes, shaking his head vehemently. Another little ball of fire dripped off him onto the floor, and Lucy stamped it out, but the fire on the bed was spreading rapidly. She could either keep him here or keep Phoebe’s house from burning down.

  As yet another ball of fire rolled across the carpet, Lucy shoved Colt through the door toward the bathroom across the hall. “In there! Water!” He’d drunk gallons of water at Oliver’s place, and perhaps this was why. She prayed she wasn’t sending him to set the whole house ablaze as she threw another blanket on top of the bed to smother the fire and yelled for help.

  The smoke alarm had been triggered, and Phoebe came running with a fire extinguisher and put out the bedding and a streak of smoldering carpet.

  She turned to Lucy when it was under control. “What the hell happened?”

  “Colt,” said Lucy. “I think he was dehydrated.” She grabbed the clothes from the chair and pushed through the crowd in the doorway that now included Rhea, Leo, Ione and Ione’s husband, Dev Gideon, to reach the bathroom and make sure she’d been right.

  Colt had climbed into the porcelain bathtub—smart kid; he’d minimized his flammability—and was drinking from his cupped hands under the running water.

  Lucy closed the door. “I’m so sorry, Colt. I didn’t realize.” She should have had Fran hook up an IV drip to keep him hydrated, but it had never occurred to her what the consequences would be of his not getting sufficient water. And she’d honestly thought he wouldn’t make it through the night. “I brought you some clothes.” She set them on the toilet seat lid. “Once you’ve cooled down a bit, you can put these on, and we’ll get you some proper water from the kitchen. And something to eat.”

  Colt nodded and continued drinking. Whatever it was that kept him from speaking—whether it was a choice or a physiological impossibility—he seemed to fully understand human speech.

  She stepped out to find the hallway had cleared—except for Leo, who stood waiting in the guest room doorway, arms folded as he leaned one broad shoulder against the door frame. “The little wolf,” he said, pushing himself away from the wall. “He’s a hellhound.”
<
br />   “Yes.”

  “You know they’re meant to hunt.”

  Lucy shrugged. “I guess, yeah.”

  “But he’s not one of mine.”

  “I’m not sure what you mean. One of yours?”

  “One of my hounds. They accompany the Wild Hunt. They’re spectral, but Colt is flesh and blood. I think he may be part of a hunting pack meant to join another Wild Hunt.”

  “Another?” Lucy pushed back her hair. “I didn’t know there was more than one.”

  “Oh, yes. They come from many regions of the world, many traditions.”

  “Lucien said he’d escaped hell with a small pack of juveniles. Maybe you’re right. But why is that significant?”

  “Because I think these hellhounds would have escaped with a purpose. To hunt—or to seek the hunter.” Leo started walking back to the living room as if he was done with the conversation.

  “Leo.” Lucy walked after him. “Do you know something about this hunter?”

  Before he could answer, the front door opened at the end of the hall. Theia and Lucien had arrived. Behind Lucy, a soft growl sounded. She turned to see Colt, dressed in his new clothes, standing with legs planted wide, arms out at his sides, ready to run. His eyes had gone red, and they were fixed on Lucien.

  Lucy returned to him and took his hand. “It’s okay, Colt. He’s not here to hurt you. You’re not in trouble.”

  Lucien seemed to recognize Colt as well, whether simply because of his description or because of some infernal sense, Lucy wasn’t sure. “So there you are. You and your brother and sisters have caused quite a bit of chaos, my little friend. I don’t suppose you know where they are?”

  A narrowing of the red eyes was Colt’s only response.

  Lucy drew Colt a little closer to her side. “He doesn’t have to go right away, does he? I know he can’t stay, but he seems to be doing much better than he was.”

  Phoebe came out of the kitchen with oven mitts on her hands. “He could at least stay and eat something, couldn’t he? I mean, you guys just got here.”