No Light

by Mara, Devi

  She rushed across the room and hurried up the stairs. She saw the ashes from the end of the hall. The door was thrown open and, as she walked closer, she could make out the edge of her bed. She forced herself to step into the room and look around. Her mattress lay against the wall between the bed frame and the wall.

  The pile of ash lay in front of her smashed dresser. She dropped to her knees at the edge of the scorched circle and reached out to touch the small part of the book cover that survived the fire. The brown cotton flaked in her hand, until only a part of the title remained. The Dems. Her fingers curled around the words.

  "Hey. I just came to see if-"

  Her head popped up at the familiar voice. She glanced toward her door, as she heard her father respond.

  "It's none of your business. Now, get the hell outta here!"

  "I was supposed to meet your daughter for lunch, but-"

  "I said, get outta here!"

  Sarah climbed to her feet. She tucked the remains of the book into her pocket.

  "Just let me talk to her-"

  "Talk to her? You can take her ass with you, for all I care," she heard her father say.

  "Fine! Where is she?"

  She glanced around the room for anything salvageable. Her eyes landed on her knapsack. She hurried over to pick it up off the floor.

  "Upstairs. End of the hall. Can't miss it. Get her and get the hell outta my house!" her father yelled.

  She heard Luke mutter something under his breath, then his footsteps started up the stairs. She pulled open her dresser and jerked the folded clothes out of the drawer. She did not bother to fold them, just shoved it all in her knapsack. The footsteps paused behind her, just outside her room.

  "Sarah?"

  She closed her eyes. "Yes, Luke?" She heard him come closer.

  "Are you okay? What happened? I saw the living room..."

  She jerked her bag closed and turned to face him. She watched him look her over, before he took in the damage to her room.

  "What happened?" he asked. He turned his head to stare at her.

  She shook her head. "I'm not sure, but I need to get out of here." She started to walk around him.

  "Did you hear what I said downstairs?"

  She paused at his soft tone. "Yes."

  "I meant it. I would be happy to take you with me." He lightly grasped her hand and she tried not to twitch. "If you don't mind."

  She heard the question. Her mind spun over everything she had learned and her head began to ache. She nodded.

  "Just for a couple days. If it's no trouble." He didn't reply and she peeked up at him.

  He grinned. "No trouble, at all." His smile faded, as he looked at her.

  She raised an eyebrow, at the hand he held out toward her. When his fingertips grazed her cheek, she flinched violently.

  "What happened?"

  She looked away, staring at the floor. "Fell."

  He hummed thoughtfully.

  "Can we go?" she whispered.

  He nodded. "Whenever you're ready."

  She raised her head. "I'm ready now."

  ...

  "I apologize, I don't usually have guests."

  Sarah stared at the large guest suite and shook her head. Her eyes moved over the beautiful room, taking in everything from the glistening hardwood floor to the bed draped in plum and purple.

  "The last person to stay with me was my cousin. She had a thing for purple." Sarah glanced at him in time to catch the end of his grimace.

  "It's beautiful." She smiled, when he visibly relaxed.

  "Great!" He looked around. "Everything you need should be in the bathroom or the closet." He paused and scanned her. "Do you have any other clothes?"

  Sarah looked down at herself. "Not many. Why?"

  He tapped his chin. "I think Megan left some clothes here. They should be about your size."

  "Your cousin?"

  He nodded. "She's almost sixteen, but she wore a small until a couple years ago. I think her older clothes will fit you."

  Sarah nodded. "Thank you."

  "I'm just glad to help." He stared at her.

  She shifted her bag on her shoulder and looked around.

  "Okay. Well, I'll leave you to get settled then," he said in a rush.

  She watched him leave and let out a slow breath. She let her bag slide down her arm to thump onto the floor. Her eyes wandered the room and landed on the bathroom. The closet door next to it was open just enough to show the outline of clothes on hangers. She tilted her head to the side and shrugged.

  The closet light came on automatically when she stepped inside. The right wall held an assortment of tops and bottoms. Far more clothing than she had ever owned in her life. The back wall was filled shelves. Shoes, purses, and various colorful accessories covered every inch of space. She frowned and wiggled her toes inside her boots. Her eyes moved to her left.

  Dresses in every color crammed the bar along the wall. Sarah took a step back from the dizzying sight. She jerked her eyes away. She quickly grabbed a shirt and a pair of drawstring sweatpants and shoved the closet door closed. She stepped into the bathroom and paused. Her eyes moved from one shining white surface to another.

  She pushed the door closed and leaned against it. The bathroom counter was made out of white stone with thin veins of gold. She started to set the clothes on it, but thought better of it. She set them down on the bench beside the door. A large, round bathtub filled the center of the room, and she walked around it to reach the shower.

  She stood outside the glass shower wall and frowned. She leaned forward and peeked through the left doorway. The glass wall ran between the two doorways. She looked up and, against the opposite wall, half a dozen showerheads pointed at the tile floor. She swallowed hard.

  A dozen knobs lay in a row on the wall to her left. They appeared to control the shower. She reached out to twist the closest knob. Water shot out of the nearest showerhead. She smiled, until the glass began to fog. She frowned at the intense heat wafting toward her. She tweaked the knob until the fine mist cooled.

  She toed off her boots and stuffed her socks into them. Her pants and shirt draped over the bench next to the borrowed clothes. She paused and looked down at herself. Her ratty underwear was ready for the trash, but it was all she had. She shifted from foot to foot.

  Her eyes moved to the door. She took a deep breath and pulled open the bathroom door, to peek around the corner. The room was empty. She raced across the room and dug fresh underwear out of her bag. Her eyes did not leave the bedroom door until she was safe inside the bathroom, again.

  She stripped off her remaining clothes and stepped into the shower. The warmth made her shiver, and goosebumps popped up all over her body. Her eyes fell closed. The water poured down on her head to flow over her shoulders and down her back. She tipped her head back to let it run down her chest and over her sharp hip bones. She opened her eyes slowly.

  She studied the bottles on the shelf beside her. Several different kinds of shampoo, soap, and conditioner, filled the small space. She pursed her lips and grabbed a shampoo with a picture of an apple on the bottle. It smelled as advertised. She lathered her hair and piled it up on top of her head out of the way.

  She hurried through the rest of her washing with a soap that professed to smell like peaches. It was pleasant, but not as nice as the shampoo. She stood under the showerhead and rinsed her hair and body, still smiling at the warmth. She forced herself to step away and turned toward the glass wall. A bath towel hung on a hook just outside.

  She wrapped it around her body twice and tucked it in under her arm to keep it in place, before she turned back to turn off the water. Her hair fell over her shoulder and she glanced down at it. The deep red appeared darker in the soft light. She gently ran her fingers through the long strands to straighten out the snarls, as she drifted over to the sink.

  Her eyes slowly rose from the stone basin to stare at herself in the mirror. She trailed her fingertips from
her high cheekbone to a pointy little chin. She wrinkled her nose. A light dusting of freckles over the bridge of her nose and forehead disrupted her pale skin. She sighed and met her eyes in the mirror.

  They were not as bright as Farran's. The thought rose to her mind unbidden, but once it was there she could not banish it. His eyes were the lightest jade when he was amused. She smiled. Her own were almost dull by comparison. She shook her head and left the mirror to dress.

  The t-shirt hung on her loosely, shifting forward to show her collarbones anytime she moved. She shrugged her shoulders and it shifted to the side to show her bra strap instead. She pursed her lips and stepped into the sweat pants. She tugged on the drawstring, until the fabric bunched up around the waistband, but they still hung low on her hips.

  "Sarah?"

  She jerked her eyes away from the baggy clothes to stare at the bathroom door.

  "Sarah?" he called, a little concern creeping into his tone.

  She pulled open the bathroom door and looked around the bedroom. He knocked on the bedroom door.

  "Are you okay?"

  "I'm fine," she called back. She looked down at herself. "You can come in."

  He paused just inside the room and stared at her.

  "Is this okay? You said I could borrow something..." she trailed off, uncertain.

  He blinked, and shook himself. "Oh! No, that's fine. It's just..." He cleared his throat. "You look different."

  Sarah looked down at herself. "Do I? Oh, because the clothes are a little big." She shrugged and rubbed at her bare arm.

  He coughed, and muttered what sounded like, "Something like that."

  ...

  Sarah wandered downstairs in another borrowed outfit. The slim cut jeans fit with the belt she found in the back of the closet. It was cinched tight, with the tail of the t-shirt bunched up along the waistband for added bulk. She found an old hair band under the dresser in the bedroom and used it to pull her hair into a low ponytail. She glanced out the windows she passed on the way to the kitchen.

  Luke's backyard was still covered in a layer of pristine snow. Red and blue birds circled the birdfeeders along the back fence. She smiled.

  "Well, you look lovely this morning."

  She jerked her head around to stare at Luke. He stood in the kitchen doorway, leaning his hip against the doorjamb. His eyes smiled along with his lips. She gave him a tentative smile.

  "Thank you."

  His smile widened. "You're welcome. Hungry?"

  She nodded and watched him walk into the kitchen. She sent another look out the window, before she followed him. The breakfast bar was already set for two. He waved her toward one of the stools.

  "I made pancakes and sausage. I hope that's okay." He looked over his shoulder at her.

  Sarah raised her eyebrows. "You didn't have to go to so much trouble. I usually just have cold cereal..."

  He laughed and turned back to the stove. "Nonsense. You're a guest. Since I hardly ever have those, I figured I might as well use my skills. As lacking, as they may be."

  Sarah grinned at his self-depreciating tone. "I'm sure you're a better cook than I am."

  He sent her a warm smile. "I can't imagine you are bad at anything."

  She felt her cheeks heat and dropped her gaze to the table.

  "I'm on medical leave until the day after tomorrow. What do you think of spending the day together?"

  Sarah peeked up at him. "I guess that would be okay."

  He smiled. "Great. Would you mind handing me your plate?"

  She quickly handed it over. He piled two pancakes and a few links of sausage on her plate and passed it back.

  "Is that too much?" he asked, as he filled his own plate.

  She stared at her plate with wide eyes, but shook her head. "No, it's fine." She saw him grin from the corner of her eye.

  "Syrup?"

  "Please." She watched him hunt through the cabinets beside the stove.

  "All I have is maple and strawberry."

  "Maple, please."

  "Maple, it is." He snatched it from the top shelf and turned to set it on the table between them.

  "Thank you."

  He smiled. "My pleasure."

  She looked up from her plate at his warm tone, but he was focused on his plate. She watched him cut up his pancakes and add syrup. He glanced up and met her gaze.

  "Is it good?"

  She nodded and took a bite. His eyes dropped to her mouth. He looked away.

  "What would you like to do today? We could go see a movie or maybe, go shopping." He raised his eyebrows.

  Sarah laughed. "Are you making fun of me?"

  He smirked. "I would never. Especially, when you look so damn cute in those clothes." He snapped his mouth closed.

  She stared at him. Her mind inexplicably brought up a picture of Farran. She imagined the same words from him and her face flamed. She dropped her attention back to her plate.

  "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you," Luke apologized.

  She smiled. "I'm not offended." She paused to wipe her mouth on her napkin. "I would like to buy some new clothes, but with my suspension..." She frowned down at the table.

  "I insist you let me buy you a few things."

  She looked at him in surprise. "I didn't mean-"

  "I know that, but you are a guest. It's my responsibility to make sure you have what you need." He pushed his plate away. "While you're staying with me, anyway."

  She studied his earnest expression. "If it's no trouble."

  "It's not."

  ...

  His blunt nails scrapped against the front of his suit, as if he could dig the pain out. His jaw ached from trying to keep himself quiet. The pain increased each time it came. At the beginning, it had been the surprise that made it seem so painful. After a day, each wave felt like it would rip his insides out. It never stopped.

  The first day, the waves would ebb and flow. A day later, the waves were mere minutes apart and there was no relief in between. He cursed himself for what his clouded mind told him must be the thousandth time. That girl was responsible for this. At the thought, the pain crest over him again.

  His head rolled to face the bars of his cell. Tradis paused, as he passed and stared at him. Farran watched his eyes darken. He shook his head. Tradis visibly sighed, but nodded. Farran watched him cross the front of his cell. He vanished in the direction of the Main Hall with his handler in tow.

  Farran rolled over onto his back. It did not relieve the pain, but it eased slightly. He glared at the ceiling. That stupid girl was the cause of all this. The pain spiked. He bit back a curse. It had taken him eighteen hours to evaluate his symptoms and determine the cause. His frustration at himself added to his anger.

  It had been so long since anyone had marked a human, he had not recognized the symptoms. He raised his head off the sleeping shelf a couple inches and let it fall. Of all the humans he had contact with in six thousand years, his ator would choose the most pathetic weakling to mark. The pain spiked and he let out a string of curses.

  "A'kar, teo, lat keim!"

  He collapsed against the stone. His mind continued to think of the tiny human. She carried a part of his ator within her. He smirked slightly. He pictured the way she looked with his ator swirling under her skin. The pain faded. His eyebrows raised. He shoved himself into a sitting position.

  "T'ak an si abad," he muttered to himself.

  It could not be that easy. He imagined the feel of her small body in his arms. The feel of her skin under his hands. The pain retreated to a dull ache. He scowled. It was that easy. In his mind's eye, he lifted her hair in his hands. He closed his eyes and remembered her scent. She always smelled like the seasons.

  He could clearly smell winter when she was afraid. Her shyness and confusion were like spring. He had caught the spice of autumn once. When he stripped off his shirt in the shower room, she had smelled faintly of autumn leaves and pumpkin spice. He tilted his head. The pain faded unti
l it was barely noticeable.

  The overhead lights flickered and his eyes popped open. He glanced toward the bars of his cell. In the back of his mind, he continued to speculate about the scent of summer.

  Chapter Ten

  Blessed Bones

  "Your boyfriend seems like a sweetheart."

  Sarah's head snapped up. She glanced at the store clerk in confusion. The young woman gestured toward the doorway of the dressing room.

  "The guy sitting outside." She raised an eyebrow.

  Sarah frowned. "He's just a friend."

  "Really? Because he's been giving you some eyes, if you know what I mean."

  Sarah glanced toward the doorway. "He works with me. We're just friends."

  "Well, alright then, honey. I was just sayin'." She slipped a slinky dress off of a hangar. "No man I know would drop this kind of cash unless it was an investment."

  A knot began to form in her stomach. "I don't think of him that way." She took the dress and slipped it on over the newly purchased under things.

  "Oh, nice!" The woman stepped back a few feet to stare at her. "Spin."

  Sarah turned in a slow circle. "I'm not sure why I would need a dress like this," she muttered, sliding her hands over the fabric.

  The soft jersey draped her form, flowing over the small curves like water.

  "It's very flattering. I was worried we may need a belt." The woman reached out to smooth the dress around Sarah's waist. "But, I think this fabric blend has enough stretch to it."

  Sarah glanced in the mirror. "Are you sure red is a good idea?"

  "Of course! With that beautiful hair, all you need is some light makeup."

  Sarah frowned at her reflection. "You don't think it's too short?" She relaxed her arms at her sides. Her fingertips brushed the hemline.

  "It's mid-thigh, honey. I'd almost call it closer to knee length. You're hardly being risqué."

  Sarah turned her back to the mirror and glanced over her shoulder. Her pale back peeked through the crisscrossing straps. "I'm not sure about this."

  "You have to at least let him see it."