Cast into Darkness

by Janet Tait

  “Get it over with, my son. Do me the favor of making it quick, the way I did for your grandfather. That’s the point of having family.”

  Make it quick. A kinetic knife across the throat. A spike of ice in the back of the head. The feeble pinpricks of red light in his father’s eyes seemed to beg him to make a choice.

  He thought about Kate. About lying next to her on the small bed in her little apartment in Ithaca, her feeding him fresh apples and crumbs of cheese, and her laugh as she rehearsed lines from her latest play with him. He thought about a thousand afternoons in the future like that one, afternoons he would probably never have.

  He remembered the lessons his father had tried to teach him—strike fast, strike hard. The way he’d beaten Dmitri into a bloody mess after their botched mission, then provoked him into an attack that left his cousin half-dead.

  Did he want to be the man his father had raised? The one who would plunge a dagger into his own father’s heart to take his place? Did he want to belong to a family that invited Kate’s father here under a flag of truce, then murdered him?

  He hauled his father to his feet. “Come with me.”

  Kate struggled as the primal magic wrapped its inky tendrils around her. She opened her mouth to scream, and darkness filled her throat. She tried to take in another breath, and the blackness sank into her lungs. She pulled against the tarry ropes, and they snapped tighter. The more she resisted, the more she was engulfed by the primal magic’s shadowy doom.

  Her heart went pitter-patter, like a rabbit trying frantically to escape a snare. Her breath rasped in her throat. Her vision dimmed—the form of Melina standing over her, of Dylan reaching inside his jacket for a talisman, shielding himself from the power rushing toward him with the same white light she’d used. Then everything began to fade. The sound of the battle, the gulls overhead, the waves on the shore, all muted out. The feel of the grainy sand rubbing into her skin disappeared. She couldn’t even taste the blood in her mouth anymore. Blackness filled everything inside her.

  The white light, the counterspell. She had to try it. It had worked before. If she could just move her fingers a little. She tapped out the ginkgo-leaf pattern to the spell and chanted the words as best she could.

  The light sprang into being around her, like the sun rising after the longest night. It swept across her stiff body, pushing against the blackness. Maybe, just maybe… Then the darkness washed over it like an oil spill, extinguishing it completely, and she felt the magic’s cool contempt, as if to say, Oh, that thing again.

  The last bit of hope deep inside her went out like the spark of a campfire on a stormy beach. She had nothing left to try.

  Kristof marched his father down the beach to where Melina stood, hands on her hips, watching Kate as she lay on the sand. Kate was curled in ball on her side, eyes closed, fists clenched, shaking.

  “What did you do to her?”

  “Nothing. She did it to herself. Fighting the primal magic, trying to control it. She’ll kill herself. I don’t have to lift a damn finger.”

  Kristof took a step toward Kate. Melina’s eyes went hot with anger. “Oh no. You’ve interfered quite enough.” She glanced down at their father. “Do your job. Finish him, brother dear.”

  “What will you do if I don’t? Make Dmitri your puppet instead?”

  “Maybe. At least he’ll shoot from the front.”

  He pushed his father down to kneel on the beach. A few yards away, Dylan rolled shaking to his feet, counterspell no longer needed. Victor stood braced against the cliff, Brooke at his side, fending off a pair of his father’s enforcers. Dmitri moaned at Victor’s feet, hands clutching his bleeding stomach.

  “Let Kate go,” Kristof said. “You don’t need her.”

  “‘You?’ Don’t you mean ‘we’?”

  He looked down at his father, crawling toward the amulet Cooper Hamilton had brought as a good faith gesture, blood coloring the dark sand an even darker black. “What do you think?”

  “I think someone has to teach you what family means.” Melina glanced down at Kate. His sister’s aura lit up with a black-green fire.

  Kate’s breath left her body with a soft finality. Her lungs burned, aching for one more inhale, one more beautiful whiff of air. Her blood yearned for oxygen, for the vital pulse of life. More, just a little more.

  There must be something she could do. The white light Brian had used in the Sanctum had been a clue. Maybe he’d left her another.

  The journal. No, no, that hadn’t meant a damn thing. But in his room, when she’d been looking for clues… She’d found that copy of the Tao te Ching, the last thing Brian had read.

  Why was she thinking of it now? It was a stupid book, something Grayson would assign as a way to think about magic, about power.

  Yes. Maybe it was exactly that.

  The passage Brian had marked… What had it said?

  When two great powers clash

  the one that yields

  will emerge triumphant.

  Brian had known what the stone did all along.

  She yielded. Stopped fighting the blackness that suffocated her. Relaxed into the power and gave up.

  Its insatiable hunger responded. It reached in and dragged her completely under, its ebony liquid filling her with its essence. Her heart slowed. Her pulse wound down to almost nothing. Her entire body froze. Her thoughts flowed like the dark sea itself, a thick, viscous ooze through her mind. Primal magic flowed around her and through her.

  And it welcomed her.

  The sea of blackness sprung into glorious life before her as all the shades of darkness revealed themselves to be shades of gray. There were depths in the depths of which she had been unaware. As she looked around at her inner landscape, she realized the power held still and quiet. Its magic no longer flowed in an unending circle above her, its waves no longer crashing on her shore. The intention she’d felt became a presence—one that paid attention to her.

  Looming before her like a dark torrent, it waited for her to negotiate. For her to offer it a price, instead of her life.

  Melina. Take Melina.

  No. A strong no.

  Before it could lash back, she made another proposal.

  Kate felt outside herself for all the life that roamed the rocky seashore of the Makris family’s little island. From the thousands of life-forms crawling, running, and flying around her, she made an offer.

  A hundred tuna, swimming in a school offshore. It considered, and she thought that somewhere in its vastness it calculated the worth of a hundred tuna versus the effort it had taken to release her from Melina’s spell holding her under the sand.

  No. Too small.

  She thought about what else she needed to do, thought about how Dad had negotiated. Then she made another offer, for this spell and another.

  A little short, the feeling came back.

  Cut me a deal. This is a long-term relationship.

  Primal magic brushed Kate with a light touch of its power. Just enough to acknowledge that the deal had been made.

  Kate’s lungs burst open and sweet, sweet air rushed in.

  Kristof’s counterspell flared white against Melina’s black primal magic. Inch by inch, she pushed his shield back until it barely surrounded Kate and himself, their forms overshadowed by the power of her dark art.

  He had to come up with another plan. And fast. Before…

  Melina’s veil of darkness wiped his counterspell away like ink spilled across virgin-white paper.

  His veins were on fire. Every muscle in his body popped and twisted in an agony ten times worse than any he’d suffered in the Pit. His hands clawed at the sand, looking for anything he could grab, throw at her, anything.

  “What happened to you, Kristof? Why didn’t you trust me to know what was good for us both?”

  Through a haze of pain, Kristof saw Melina standing over him, arms outstretched, green-black fire arching down into him. The pain increased, his blood boiling in his
veins, his skin combusting. In a moment there would be nothing left of him but smoking bone on the shores of the warm sea, with his sister’s burning hands bearing witness.

  Then, from behind him, hair blazing in the noonday sun, Kate stood and reached into the stream of power. She pushed its greenish darkness back into Melina. The power welled up and imploded, filling Melina with a verdant miasma that permeated her skin, her eyes, her hair. She screamed and screamed again, her body convulsing. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she dropped limp on the sand.

  The pain racking him ended. He could breathe. He could swallow.

  The magic left Melina, searching for its price. And found it. His father tumbled to the shore, a step away from Cooper Hamilton and the amulet he wanted back so very much.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Kate sat on the warm sand next to her father. She held his stiffening hand in hers, her thumb tracing the lines of his palm. She should close his eyes or something. Wasn’t that what people did?

  “Kate.” Kristof. He was standing behind her. She felt his life force, the trillions of cells in his body that made him him—a side effect, she supposed, of her deal with primal magic. Kate sensed Melina’s life force, as well, along with Melina’s own connection to primal magic. Her spell had suppressed that connection, not killed her. What does it say about me that I wish it had?

  “We have to talk.” Kristof’s voice was gentle.

  Victor knelt on the other side of her father’s body. His face had a cut across it, and he reached up to wipe the blood away. “Go,” he growled with a glare up at Kristof. “I’ll take care of him.”

  She tucked her father’s hand against his chest and stood.

  The breeze from the sea had intensified, whipping Kristof’s hair around his face, framing those deep-blue eyes. His shirt was ripped across the shoulder and stained with blood, dirt, and sand. Something inside him had loosened, broken. She didn’t know what, only that the tension that had tightened his shoulders and chest had disappeared and his eyes were clear.

  Well, good for him.

  They walked down the beach until they were a little ways away from where Victor sat vigil over her father’s body, from where Dylan stood guard over Melina’s unconscious, spellcuffed form. Kristof tapped out a privacy spell, and they waited until the violet shimmer settled over both of them, watching the sun sparkle over the waves.

  She glanced back at the beach. Brooke argued with Victor, waving her bangle-clad arms at him. He shook his head, crossed his arms, and turned away from her. She tugged at the sleeve of his uniform like a puppy, taking the silver chain from around her neck and offering it to him.

  Some of the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. “Brooke thinks she works for us. Why?”

  “Long story. Not important now.” His eyes drifted to the boats far out to sea.

  “Isn’t it? Brooke works for you. You sent her after me, after the stone. You could have taken it from me, that night at my place. All you had to do was put it in your pocket and walk out the door and everything would have been over. Why didn’t you?”

  He sighed. “I asked myself that more times than you know. I made all kinds of excuses—operational needs, my father not finding out—but none of those reasons really mattered.”

  “What did?”

  “You. I didn’t want things to end. With you.”

  The waves crashed on the shore as she processed what he’d said.

  Then, “I’m sorry. About Brooke, the stone, Dmitri, bringing you here, your father… I can’t tell you how much.” He fell silent, staring out at the sea. “If I could change what happened…”

  A painful, dry chuckle erupted from deep inside her. “Who are you trying to fool? You wouldn’t change anything. You have exactly what you want. Your father dead. Control of the Makris family. Your sister under your thumb.”

  “What if that’s not what I want?” He brushed a strand of hair from her face. The touch of his hand on her cheek made her breath catch.

  “Don’t.” She stepped back.

  “What if I could throw all this away? Running the family, dealing with Melina, Dmitri, all of it? What if you and I could be together, no politics, no families…just us?”

  She searched his face and recognized the deep yearning in his eyes for everything he’d said. The life they’d led at college, built on a foundation of lies—only this time it would be built on truth.

  “Kristof…” She leaned into his arms and held him, her head resting on his bloody shirt. He bent down and kissed her, and he tasted like the ocean and lost nights in Ithaca. Her pulse jumped as he stroked the soft place under her ear.

  “You can’t walk away from your family. They’ll come after you.”

  “Maybe. But after today they’ll have other things to deal with. Melina. Choosing a leader. Chasing down the heir gone rogue won’t be the highest priority.”

  She searched his face, looking for the cocky young operative, the secret agent who could run a hundred scenarios through his head in an instant. He had vanished in the flare of a teleport spell. Kristof’s face had softened, and a touch of Kris’s ease had entered his eyes.

  “I can’t make any promises,” she said. “I don’t know if…”

  “Can we try? Just Kate and Kristof. No lies, no secrets, no families?”

  She stood still for a long moment. So many dead, on both sides. So many betrayals. Then she thought about what he’d done on the beach—standing against his sister, providing Victor with the lockpick so he could free himself, using Brooke as a distraction. Protecting Kate from Melina long enough for her to make a deal with the primal magic insider her. Did those actions make up for his betrayals?

  She wasn’t sure. But she knew what her heart wanted.

  She slipped her arm into his. They walked back down the beach, his hand on the small of her back, and as she leaned into him she felt like maybe, just maybe, something good would come from today.

  Kristof held out his hand to bring them to a halt. Back at the cove, Dmitri faced off against Victor, who still guarded the body of Kate’s father. Behind Dmitri were the three members of the Synedrion. Aunt Elena stood in the deep sand, crimson robes draped around her, arms crossed. Uncle Stavros’s hand rested on a set of talismans pinned to his neat, red military uniform. Dmitri’s father—Kristof’s uncle Yannis—led a row of Makris guards to surround Dylan and the still-unconscious Melina. A troop of Makris enforcers lined the cliff above them.

  “What—” Kate began.

  “The Synedrion. Our ruling council, like your Council of Affiliates. Let me handle this.” Kristof let her go and strode toward his relatives. Kate hurried after, her bare feet pulling in the sand.

  “—can’t let Kate leave here alive. She used primal magic. That’s a killing offense.” Dmitri addressed his relatives, then turned to point at Kate. His face paled, customary smirk absent.

  “She’s not the only one who used primal magic.” Kristof bowed to his aunt and uncles. “This is a complicated matter. It isn’t something that should be decided quickly.” Time. Got to buy enough time to get her away. Both of us, if at all possible.

  Victor grabbed Kate and pulled her away from him. Further from the Synedrion and the enforcers. Good.

  “No, we should act now,” Dmitri said. “I saw what she can do. Kill her now, or she’ll destroy us all.”

  Uncle Yannis spoke. “Dmitri has a point. He told us what she is—a primal magic caster. And our enemy. Why shouldn’t we act now, while she is here, in our territory?”

  “Because if you try it she will destroy you, like she killed Papa. Let her go.”

  “We have our own primal magic caster.” Aunt Elena pointed at Melina, still lying unconscious on the sand. “At least, so Dmitri says.”

  “Yeah, and she used primal magic to kill, too,” Victor said. “She’s just as guilty of breaking the law as Kate. Come after Kate and we’ll go after Melina. Stalemate.”

  Dmitri smirked. “Not exactly. You’re her
e, now.” He pointed to the row of Makris enforcers on the cliff above them. “No matter how much primal magic she uses, one of their spells will cut you in half.”

  “No.” Kate stepped up in front of the Synedrion. She shoved her hand into the pocket where Kristof had seen her put her father’s shield talisman earlier. “There’s been enough killing today.” She looked at his aunt Elena, who drew herself up as if Kate was about to blast her into tiny pieces, then his two uncles. “I was always told there were Rules to this Game of yours. Nulls are off-limits. Normals can’t know who we are or that they don’t run things.” She glanced over at her father’s body, and the pain in her eyes caused his heart to ache. “That we don’t assassinate each other. It seems like the Rules don’t matter anymore. Maybe they should.

  “I didn’t want this power. Frankly, it sucks. I don’t intend to use it. You leave me alone, I’ll leave you alone.” She turned and walked back to Victor.

  “You can’t trust—” Dmitri began.

  “Shut up. You don’t have any say in this,” Kristof said.

  “Oh and you do? Uncle Nico never officially named you heir.”

  Kristof rubbed his hand across his eyes. He wasn’t going to fall into this trap. Kate. He wanted Kate.

  “I don’t see any reason we should let them go,” his uncle Yannis said. “Dmitri is right. Take them out now, while they are weak. That’s the only way.”

  The light that had blossomed within Kristof died. He turned and looked at Kate, a sad smile on his face that said good-bye in all the ways he couldn’t say out loud.

  “My cousin is an idiot and completely unfit to be heir,” he said.

  “Me? You’re the one who helped the Hamiltons fight Melina.”

  His aunt drew herself up. “You did what? Explain.” Kristof put a hand on his aunt’s shoulder and walked down the beach a few steps with her and the rest of the Synedrion. He mixed just enough lies with the right amount of the truth—that Brooke appeared to be working for the Hamiltons made his case even simpler. He slowly won his aunt over, and she nodded her head when he told her he had to stop an out-of-control Melina from killing their father. Then Uncle Stavros was next to agree. Uncle Yannis was a lost cause. But it only took two to make a ruling.