Innocent Darkness

by Suzanne Lazear

  Red and blue lights flashed in her rearview mirror. Her hands trembled as the hoverboard appeared, causing the automobile to shake and she forgot to go easy on the thrust. Dread made her palms sweat.

  “This is the Los Angeles Air Patrol,” a voice boomed though his megaphone. “I command you to pause your vehicle in the name of the law.”

  Two

  Consequences

  Panic coursed through her as her foot slammed on the thrust, mind screaming at her to go faster and flee the officer. The engine squealed as she pushed the limits of the Pixy’s speed. A bug flew straight into her goggles, leaving a brown smudge in the center of the left lens.

  A siren pierced the air, the hovercop pursuing them. The Pixy couldn’t outrun a hoverboard, which was why hovercops patrolled the skies and the streets below.

  “Pause your vehicle,” he ordered again, voice booming though his megaphone.

  “Pause, Noli, pause!” V gripped the side of the car, knuckles white.

  The engine thumped. She eased on the thrust. Nothing happened.

  Her heart skipped a beat. “V, the pedal’s stuck.”

  The gears shrieked as the metal ground together and she lost control. The Pixy plummeted towards the ground. She pumped the lever, and flipped switches. Nothing. Paralyzed with fear, she could only stare at the rapidly approaching ground.

  “Cut the engine, cut the engine,” V shouted.

  V’s instructions brought her back to her senses. Cutting the engine, she locked the wings, then pulled up on the wheel to keep them from crashing headfirst. Her backyard loomed ahead.

  “The fence, Noli. Watch the fence.” He pointed at the wooden fence separating their yards.

  Gritting her teeth, she pulled harder, struggling to avoid it. It wasn’t enough. She shut her eyes and braced herself as her beloved car smashed through the barrier, crashing into her backyard. The sound of crunching metal roared in her ears and she jerked forward, her chest hitting the steering wheel with a thud. When her eyes opened, the sight of crumpled metal, a broken wing, and smoke greeted her. Her heart still raced.

  “Switch places now.” Pulling her into the passenger’s side, V climbed over her, taking the driver’s seat. The hovercop descended. Noli sank into the passenger’s seat. “Go along with whatever I say.” V squeezed her hand in reassurance. His cap sat askew.

  She nodded, heart in her throat. As usual, V remained the calm voice of reason while she became the impetuous wreck. With her previous violations she could be in all sorts of trouble. Hoverboarding in the hills was one thing, flying an unregistered automobile over a residential neighborhood without a permit, another.

  The hovercop landed his shiny brass and wood solarpowered hoverboard in her backyard. He wore the standard Los Angeles Air Patrol uniform—a black leather airsuit, black aviator’s cap, and matching goggles. A pistol hung from his utility belt, next to his megaphone and other interesting gadgets.

  Perhaps Fortuna would smile upon her and they’d get off with a scolding and having to rebuild the fence. They excelled at rebuilding fences.

  V fiddled with the gold and green medallion he wore hidden under his shirt. He only took it out when nervous and never around his father.

  “Halt in the name of the law.” The officer pulled up the mask of his helmet and her heart sunk. Officer Davies and she went way back.

  Officer Davies approached the wreckage. It would take a long time to repair the damage. Her mother’s shrieks already echoed in her ears. Magnolia Montgomery Braddock what were you thinking? Have you not humiliated this family enough? When will you grow up?

  “Names.” He pulled out a pen and pad of paper from a pocket on his airsuit.

  “Steven Darrow and Magnolia Braddock, sir.” Answering for them both, V gripped the wheel so tight she feared he might break it. Noli tugged at the navy ascot at the neck of her white blouse, trying to not look too guilty.

  At the mention of their names, the officer sighed. “You’re in the wrong seats.”

  “No, sir. I drove the entire time.” Reaching into his back pocket, V brought out his billfold, and handed the officer his operator’s license.

  Officer Davies examined the paper, brown eyes skeptically. “You don’t have a flying auto addendum.” He returned the permit to V. “Do you even have a permit, Noli?”

  Squirming in her seat, Noli bit her lower lip. “No, sir.”

  “Registration.”

  Her heart thumped like the Pixy’s engine. Opening the glove box, she withdrew the long-expired registration papers and handed them to the officer with bated breath.

  “This expired years ago.” Exasperation filled the officer’s face. “Magnolia Braddock, what were you thinking? Flying in a residential neighborhood, without a permit, with an unregistered auto. After everything we’ve been through, everything we’ve talked about.”

  “What seems to be the problem, Officer?” Mr. Darrow, V’s father appeared. Noli groaned softly as terror swam in V’s green eyes.

  “They took the auto for a ride, sped, and crashed.” Officer Davies shot them a look.

  Noli made a face. Obviously, they’d crashed, considering the lack of fence, and the various and sundry auto parts spread about her already cluttered backyard.

  “Magnolia possesses no permit, the car is unregistered, and Steven doesn’t hold a flying auto addendum.” The officer shook his head, making a noise of dismay.

  “I see.” Mr. Darrow stood tall and imposing, regal even, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. His angular jaw held stubble, arms and legs muscular. Maybe when V finished growing he’d look like that. She liked V as he was—not that she’d ever tell him she found him attractive.

  “Are you hurt?” Mr. Darrow looked them up and down, scanning both with unspectacled green eyes that always seemed to read their very souls.

  She stretched a little, testing for injuries, then rubbed the center of her chest. That would bruise, but she’d live. “A few aches and scratches. V?”

  “The same.” Dirt streaked V’s face and he didn’t meet his father’s gaze. He never quite lived up to his father’s expectations and it weighed on him.

  “Since it is our property, Officer, perhaps you could remit them into my custody with a warning?” Mr. Darrow’s proposal outweighed going to the station. She’d still get in trouble; Mr. Darrow would ensure that. He didn’t like Noli much and thought her a bad influence on V.

  Perhaps she was.

  Officer Davies pondered this and Noli held her breath. The officer nodded. “I can let Steven go with a warning. Truly, he should know better.”

  “Excellent.” V’s father crossed his arms. “He’ll be punished, I assure you.”

  V’s face fell. His father’s punishments got creative.

  “And Magnolia?” Mr. Darrow added belatedly.

  Officer Davies frowned. “I’m sorry, Mr. Darrow. With her past history, I’ll have to bring her into the station.”

  Noli exhaled sharply, the blood in her veins turning to ice. “The station?”

  “Should I send for her mother, Officer?” Mr. Darrow shot Noli a disapproving look.

  Noli hung her head, struggling to contain the tears.

  Officer Davies shook his head. “No, I’ll send someone to the shop to get her.”

  “Come along, Steven.” Mr. Darrow walked towards his house.

  V turned to her with concern-filled eyes. He squeezed her hand in reassurance, cheer forced, “We’ll fix the fence and the car, don’t worry.”

  “Of course.” Her voice went glum. Maybe Mama would sell the Pixy for scraps.

  With one last squeeze of her hand, she watched as V gracefully eased his way out of the broken car. Giving her half a wave, he made his way over the wreckage and across the broken fence into his own backyard leaving her alone with Officer Davies.

  Kevighn Silver walked the dark, foggy streets of San Francisco, his soul weighed down in defeat, long coat brushing his legs as his walking stick tapped on the cobble
stones, beating the tattoo of his failure. Another candidate lost. Again.

  Desperation rode him like a rider on the hunt rode a horse. The time of the sacrifice quickly approached. If he didn’t find a suitable girl …

  Annabelle’s suicide weakened the land more than he’d ever let on. The replacement girl they’d found to be the sacrifice hadn’t been nearly powerful enough, leaving the land hungry. This cycle, the chosen girl must be extraordinarily special; not only to satisfy the land’s hunger, but to atone for the shame he still suffered for Annabelle. Some of the lesser creatures had already lost their magic; parts of the Otherworld grew unstable.

  It was all his fault.

  As the high queen’s huntsman, he found one special girl every seven years. She only needed to possess the Spark—that special something some mortals possessed. It was joy, creativity, life. Chosen girls lived a charmed life in the Otherworld, spoiled and cosseted by all. When the appointed time came, her blood spilled, nourishing the land, the very magic composing their world. Without the magic, the Otherworld would fade away—along with the creatures who dwelled there. Their absence would affect this strange world, too. Unbeknownst to mortals, magic escaping from the Otherworld fueled their creativity. If the magic of the Otherworld disappeared, the creativity of mortals would as well.

  He entered an older part of San Francisco. This area he liked better than the rebuilt ones with their technology, gadgets, and shiny bits of metal. The dismal weather kept everyone inside, leaving him alone with his troubled thoughts.

  Keeping his desperation at bay proved difficult but necessary, anxiety made him stupid. Finding a girl used to be simple. If he didn’t succeed, they would all die. Him included.

  Tomorrow he’d figure out where to travel to next. San Francisco itself now held a dangerously high amount of aether for those with the Spark and finding a girl here would prove difficult. He’d caused that, as well. The Otherworld mourning her lost sacrifice triggered the earthquake that had destroyed most of the city six years before. Tonight he’d drown his sorrows in opium. His step, but not his heart, lightened at the thought. Mortals did have vices down to, as they would say, a science.

  Ah, opium and soft women. The very thought made him toss and catch his black and silver walking stick. Yes, just what he needed—and he knew the perfect place to go.

  “Noli, your mother’s here.” Officer Davies entered the empty room at the local Los Angeles Air Patrol station. She sat on the bench, her knees drawn to her chest, arms wrapped around them, head resting on her arms.

  “Noli.” Officer Davies sat down next to her on the bench. “We’re not singling you out. We’re not out to spoil your fun.”

  “I know.” Not raising her head, she sniffed.

  “I understand how losing your father—”

  “He’s not dead.” Passion colored her voice. “He’ll

  come home. It’s only been six years.” Six years. She’d begun to lose hope. Not that she’d ever admit it, even to V. “No one wants you to follow down the same path as Jeffrey, which is exactly where you seem headed no matter how many warnings I give you or how many chats we have.”

  She raised her head, jaw clenching in defiance. “What do you mean follow down the same path as Jeffery? What’s wrong with being an aeronaut? Someone needs to fly cargo vessels.”

  “That’s what your brother says he does? Fly cargo vessels?” Officer Davies still wore his airsuit, but not his helmet, revealing messy brown hair the same color as his eyes. He wasn’t a bad sort, for a hovercop.

  “Of course. My brother would never lie to me.” Her arms crossed over her chest. The officer sighed, his kind face weathered with age and elements. “Talk to your mother. You’re a good girl—a smart girl. Not a girl who’s failing school, and spends her time hoverboarding illegally or tinkering on a deathtrap.”

  She glared at him for calling the Pixy a deathtrap. “I’m not quite failing.”

  Not quite failing everything. She excelled in botany. Noli loved botany and had secretly dreamed of becoming a botanist. Once. Before her father disappeared. When her parents told her she could do anything.

  Lies. To do anything you needed money.

  If she got a job after she graduated from school she could not only help support her mother but save up so she could go to the university and become a botanist anyway. Maybe.

  Officer Davies’ expression hardened. “This might appear silly, just two young people out for a joyride. But with your record, the judge will see a troubled girl with no guidance on the path to trouble. Flying without a permit one day, stealing autos the next, perhaps even air piracy … ”

  “Judge?” A lump formed in her throat as the word barely squeaked out.

  “You were in a residential neighborhood. If we take this before the judge, you’ll probably lose.”

  Her chest tightened. That would mean a detention center. Her mother’s social status balanced precariously with them being distressed gentry. Noli getting in trouble and playing the hoyden didn’t help. Their biggest hope lay in her marrying well—not that anyone expected her to. She possessed no great beauty and too much intelligence, thus, her idea that she should simply get a job and save her family. If she was sent to a detention center, her mother’s reputation would plummet. It might even affect her mother’s shop if people refused to buy her dresses. Also, who would take care of her mother? Right now Noli didn’t earn much in the way of money, aside from the occasional repair, but she did a lot to keep their family together.

  “There is a place … ” he began.

  Her eyebrows rose. Already, it sounded dreadful.

  “A school for girls from good homes who have difficulties,” he added, as if sensing her hesitation. “I’ll speak to your mother and the captain about it. Perhaps we can get you back on track before you become an air pirate.”

  “I’ll never become an air pirate.” Even if they went to the poorhouse. Air pirates were nothing but terrible, horrible, criminals.

  “Good.” He offered her a hand up. “Your mother is waiting.”

  Noli stood, brushing off her skirt and apron, steeling herself. The true yelling would wait. Distressed gentry or not, the Braddocks still possessed their pride.

  Steven kept watch on Noli’s empty house while he picked up pieces of wood strewn across his yard making it resemble something from a picture of a battle. He hoped the police didn’t come down too hard on her. What he’d have to tell her would be difficult enough.

  His father had lectured him severely. Irresponsible, reckless actions, such as this disrespected their family name and weren’t expected behaviors for his rank and station.

  As punishment, he’d clean up the mess in both their yards. He’d rebuild the fence, paying for it out of his own money. Every day after school he’d work until dark, before starting his lessons and chores. This seemed reasonable and he’d perform the tasks without complaint. The final part of his punishment seemed most unreasonable.

  No longer could he associate with Noli—no fixing the Pixy or helping make repairs on her house; he’d even been forbidden to speak with her. The idea alone made his soul hurt. He’d do anything for her, as he would for his own brother and sister. More even.

  Picking up another splinter of wood, he threw it into the wheelbarrow, wiping the sweat off his brow with his sleeve, stomach grumbling with hunger.

  His father reminded him constantly that they weren’t brother and sister—or children. It pained him, but he’d obey his father and tell Noli they couldn’t be friends anymore. She’d be destroyed, since nearly all her friends had abandoned her after her mother opened the shop. He’d pretend his father was right and he was better off ignoring her.

  After all, he could hardly tell his father why Noli meant so much to him, why he’d continue to watch over her from afar. No, no, he couldn’t tell his father at all.

  Three

  Conversations

  “Noli?” Her mother stood in the doorway of Noli’s room, hold
ing a small lamp, the slightest of frowns on her face.

  “Yes, Mama?” Noli sat at her desk, doing her homework by candlelight. Running the gas lamps got expensive.

  “We need to chat, you and I. Could you please join me in the parlor?”

  “Of course, Mama.” Time for a scolding. Standing, she blew out the candle and followed her mother down the staircase, the tiny flame of the lamp casting eerie shadows on the walls.

  Mama had been pale and mostly silent when she’d claimed Noli from the station. Actually, tears had glinted in her eyes. Noli figured it a valiant act by her mama to maintain her dignity. Everything now was a pretense to uphold their pride. Why her mother clung to the idea of being high-society when high-society had shunned them, Noli didn’t know. The middle class seemed to have much more fun and not be so stuffy and constricting.

  Supper, a simple affair since they no longer could afford a cook, also lacked the expected yelling. Silence unnerved Noli far more than shouts. After supper, she did her chores and started her schoolwork without being asked.

  A small fire crackled in the seldom used parlor—the nicest room in the house. She tried to keep it dusted, fresh, and in good repair. Just in case. Not that suitors would come a-calling. No one would want her for a wife—not even V, who was really the only man she knew who her mother would deem suitable and Noli found interesting.

  The floral settee she sat on only smelled mildly of disuse and dust when she said down. Her insides twisted into anxious knots. Mama sat across from her in a matching chair. The low table between them held her mother’s silver tea service and fine china cups. She’d refused to sell them, saying Noli needed them for her dowry. Mama also refused to use any of the money Jeff sent, tucking it away in a place even Noli couldn’t find, claiming she saved it for Noli’s dowry as well. Did anyone even have a dowry anymore?

  Noli eyed the table’s setting in surprise, especially the plate of rare bakery cookies. Her mother poured the tea like they were at a tea party. Dress shop aside, her mother remained the same proud, wellborn woman Henry Winston Braddock married twenty-two years earlier back east and spirited away to the wild west so he could build cities, bridges, and other urban marvels.