Challenged by Darkness (An Urban Fantasy Novel) (Befallen Tides series Book 2)

by Anna Sanders

  Keaton felt sheepish, and he really hated feeling that way. Hell, it wasn’t like he wanted to hug Sabrina. She was just an overly touchy sort of person. She made it a point to put her hands on him whenever the opportunity arose. What was he supposed to do about that? Sabrina was utterly harmless, completely innocent, and endlessly caring. And the only reason she felt so inclined to touch him was because of their comfortable past together.

  Even so, watching Winx walk away with that renewed chip on her shoulder made him feel as if he were doing something wrong. When he wasn’t. Was he?

  Sabrina pulled back to look him in the eyes. “She seems… a delight.”

  Oh boy. This was going to be a continuing problem, wasn’t it? “Winx is the person I came here with. She’s who I was supposed to be helping while I was off speaking with you.” He managed to separate himself from her touch as politely as possible. “I owe her a lot.”

  “You shouldn’t have to owe your friends anything.”

  Keaton shrugged a shoulder and look down the street where Winx had departed. “She hasn’t exactly had it easy. We need each other.”

  They were quiet after that.

  Keaton looked around the area for good spots to take the bodies. Good thing they were so close to the woods. But what was going on with that truck? Was it their obligation to do something about that, too? Sniffing softly, Keaton walked near the treeline. This road had seen a lot of death recently, before the savages they had just come across. There was old blood all over the place. Something had fed here before their arrival.

  Something glittered to the side, and his head snapped toward it. On the ground was a lock of someone’s hair. It was braided with tiny ornate beads of different shades. Keaton’s insides stilled in terror. He wanted to kneel down and look closer, to pick it up and smell. But he didn’t have to.

  There was an odd trail through the trees. He was compelled to follow it. Every now and then he’d see a scrap of clothing or more hair, or a fingernail. Eventually, he was walking through puddles of blood. Urgency forced him on.

  When he found what was left of the body, Keaton sank to his knees, anguish twisted his features into a stunned mask of grief. A howl of pain started in his chest and eventually bellowed out of him. He could already hear his companions approaching him, but he paid no mind. His body doubled over as sobs wrecked him.

  “No!”

  Sabrina was the first to crash through the clearing, as she was quicker. But Winx was not too far behind. She tried not to fear the worst, but suspicion clouded her. And all was confirmed when she found Keaton sitting next to what used to be Stori Silver.

  Winx had to look away. It was revolting. The smell of the leftover bandit, all the blood and hair… if it wasn’t for the clothes and what looked like a part of head on the ground, nobody would know it was her.

  “Oh God.” This was terrible. Poor Keaton. She reached a hand toward him, but Sabrina was already there. She was on the ground with him, cradling him to her chest with the ardor of a saint.

  “Keaton. Tell me, what has happened?”

  “That’s his cousin!” Winx answered with more ire than she’d meant to. Clearing her throat, she tried again. “It…was his cousin.”

  “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.” Sabrina held him closer, if that were possible. “Don’t worry, honey. I’m here for you.”

  Winx crossed her arms and tried not to look at Stori again. It was too gruesome. “We can bury her, Keaton,” she said, not even sure if he were listening. “She will have a proper service. If you want.”

  She had nothing to offer him. She hadn’t known Stori all that well, and someone who hadn’t met Stori at all was comforting him already. So Winx turned and walked back down the trail. Every turn seemed to earn a blow to their side. Another life lost, another family member felled.

  When was the opposition going to suffer? She hoped it would be soon.

  CHAPTER 6

  The next day was bleak, and even the forecast mirrored it.

  Stori’s funeral service was short and filled with those who didn’t know her. Keaton tried to equate her death to one that all of the bandits had suffered, one that would unite them through the commonality of loss. But Sabrina’s makeshift pack wasn’t a very welcoming one. Those who stood vigil with him remained silent as he sang native prayers to his cousin before placing a wooden plaque over her grave.

  Winx was beside him as well. She had helped transport the remains, and then she had helped him with the small monument, decorating it with the beads that she’d found around the former crime scene. But all the while, she had barely talked to him, and she’d remained curt with anyone who intruded upon her thoughts. A part of him understood. The other part wanted to reach out to her. But there were too many things in the way now.

  Sabrina had been the one to insist that they move Stori’s body to her property. While Keaton prayed for his cousin, she wove her fingers with his and leaned against his shoulder. He even thought that he saw a tear trail down her cheek.

  After the rituals, Keaton was just tired. He would have liked to stay and give proper vigil for Stori, which could have lasted for hours. But he could not remember the last time that he had slept. He was not even hungry, just bone weary.

  “Is there anywhere that I can…”

  “Yes.” Sabrina started to lead him away. “Come with me, we’ll get you some rest.”

  Keaton was conscious enough to know that they were walking past the hammocks and sleeping bags in the living room, then past the kitchen and guest rooms. Soon enough, he crawled beneath a quilt on an overlarge mattress, and sleep stole over him before he could analyze any of it.

  All of this was irritating. Winx didn’t want to be stuck at Sabrina’s shelter for homeless animals. The dubious looks they were giving her made her want to scream.

  Then again, her clothing was still covered in all sorts of yuck. She’d only had the opportunity to clean the parts of her skin that were exposed, and she had open wounds to take care of as well. But honestly, who could expect her to be clean after all of that? After having the muck of a dying savage land in your mouth, you get pretty fucking humble.

  She stood by Stori’s grave for a tiny bit longer without really knowing why. Maybe because she was still so shocked. If anyone should have gotten killed, it shouldn’t have been the happy mate to the alpha. All Stori had wanted was to find Ottanu, and she had defied everything to try to get back to her in a timely fashion. Then after everything, Stori had died thinking that her wife had hated her. Winx couldn’t imagine that sort of pain.

  “God, your wife is going to be so, so sad,” Winx whispered. “You will be honored. Because you didn’t deserve this.”

  She wandered away from the grave, but she had no real destination. If Keaton hadn’t been dead on his feet, this time would be useless. But the guy was in hell and totally sleep-deprived. She just hoped that he’d be able to return to his whimsical self.

  Winx headed over to her duffel bag sitting on the porch step and took out her toiletries and some fresh clothing. She fully intended on cleaning herself before going back to mulling their situation over. It was going to take a lot of planning to figure out where to go from here. The lixyns wanted them to continue on to Washington. But the lixyns didn’t know what had just happened here…or so they were lead to believe. Right now, it was less of a hassle to believe the stupid note Keaton had found and try to go from there.

  As she tried to discreetly look for some underwear, someone walked up behind her. Winx looked over her shoulder to see a boy, who couldn’t be older than about eighteen, standing there. He had that mixed look that most bandits had; his hair was unkempt, and his clothing hung haphazardly from his too skinny frame.

  “You’re a demon,” he said with a deeper voice than she’d expected. It wasn’t exactly an accusation, but neither was it a question.

  Winx didn’t have the patience for whatever this was. “Sure. And?”

  “You are the one who draws them
here.”

  “I can.” It wasn’t exactly a threat. But he and the others must have heard it that way because there was a collective gasp around her. Winx gave a leisurely, wicked smile. “And?” she repeated.

  “You can’t stay here,” the boy said. “They’ll come for us, and we can’t defend ourselves. You’re putting us all in danger.”

  She could have argued, but the kid had a point. Somehow, she kept getting found. It wasn’t amiss for the bandits, who had already seen so much, to protect themselves by being wary of a daevor.

  But did that mean Winx was going to take off and leave Keaton here? Not a chance.

  “Listen, buddy. I’ve had a very long night. If you’re so afraid of me, do yourself a favor.” Winx reduced her voice to a stage whisper. “Shove off. All right?”

  Winx opted to shove everything back in her duffle bag and carry it with her. When she stood to her full height, the teen jumped backwards. It was a good feeling, being so intimidating. But Keaton’s pack had always treated her like she were their only hope. She was unused to all this criticism based off of her race.

  Winx gave the crowd a slow glare. Then she walked out into the forest. There was running water around here somewhere, and she’d bathe in a creek if she had to. At least she’d be clean while people were treating her like shit.

  Keaton didn’t want to wake up, but there was no mistaking the early morning light creeping in the window. He had slept for a day if the time on the bedside table was correct.

  It had been bad not knowing which pack members had been killed while he’d been away, and it was still hard even now, while they were in a different state. But knowing that Stori was dead, that one of his family wasn’t whole and alive? That was harder.

  He sat up slowly as he rubbed his stubby cheeks. Looking around the room told him two things. One, he was in the master bedroom. There was no doubting that. Two, this had to be Sabrina’s room. The entire bedding smelled like her. She’d given up her space for him? Or she’d slept in here with him. He didn’t know which because she wasn’t currently there. And he wasn’t sure which one he would prefer.

  Keaton climbed out of Sabrina’s bed and grabbed clothes from his backpack, which was sitting on the dresser.

  After ten minutes and a stop in Sabrina’s shower, Keaton was freshly washed and shaven. His wet, dark hair rested on his shoulders, and his clothing was comfortable and clean. It did little for his spirits, but he was presentable, at least.

  He walked from the back rooms to the kitchen, which always seemed to have people cooking in it. Going by the three people standing around the counters, this was no exception. This time, the difference was that someone was sitting at the usually-abandoned dining room table: Sabrina. She looked agitated until she saw Keaton, and then her entire countenance brightened.

  “Keaton. You look much better. How did you sleep?”

  He scratched his head. “All right. I guess. How long did I sleep?”

  “You slept just as much as you needed to.” She slid the chair next to her out with her foot. “Please sit down. We’ll get you fed.”

  Keaton did as she asked as his stomach growled. “I guess I am hungry.”

  “Of course you are.” She placed a hand on his wrist. “They’re making stew today because of the snowy weather.”

  “It’s snowing, and everyone is still outside?”

  Her smile faded a bit. “Most of the pack has reservations with being indoors. They feel like tents are better for a quick escape.” She looked away with a sigh. “I’ve tried to reason with them. But they’re scared.”

  That was evident.

  “And they’re scared of Winx,” she continued.

  Keaton rose a brow at her before laughing slightly. “They should be.”

  Sabrina’s gaze widened. “Really?”

  “Of course. Winx is a spitfire.” He was amused by her confusion, not taking her fear seriously on purpose. “She’d never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it, though.”

  “That’s not how she’s acting,” Sabrina said, lowering her voice conspiratorially.

  “You have to give respect to earn respect. Just give Winx her space, and you’ll get along fine eventually.”

  Speak of the devil. Winx herself walked into the dining room, and Keaton had to catch his breath. She was cleaned from head to foot and wore a roguish outfit: a black spaghetti-string top and form-fitting jeans. She wore makeup to hide her recovering black eye and other puffy wounds, and her other bandages were freshened. It all made her look tough and unobtainable.

  She nodded when she saw him. “How are you?” Winx winced as she said it, like even she knew it was a crap thing to ask.

  Keaton gave her a sad smile. “I’ll live, right?”

  “Maybe. You’re pretty resilient.”

  A compliment from Winx? Maybe he was still sleeping.

  She was looking at him oddly, almost as if she missed seeing him. But it wasn’t like she was going to say it. Keaton knew that wasn’t her style. Instead, Winx blew a gust of a sigh and pointed to the kitchen. “I’ve made my cameo appearance for the day. Now I’m going to make a snack.”

  As she walked into the kitchen, the three cooks made room for her quickly, stopping whatever they were doing and standing back. Winx glowered but didn’t otherwise acknowledge it. She grabbed an already packaged sandwich from the fridge and made good on her word to vacate the room.

  Keaton watched her go with regret. The cooks got back to their stew with aplomb, as if they hadn’t overreacted. Sabrina shivered beside him.

  “Callous thing,” she muttered to herself.

  He was immediately distraught. “Has everyone been treating her like that?”

  “We’ve tried being nice, Keaton. But she insists on being difficult!” Sabrina squeezed his wrist. She hadn’t moved her hand an inch. “I want you here. I know you, I like you, and I think it’s best you stay. But I have to think of what’s best for the pack. If she keeps this up, we may have to make her leave.”

  “If she leaves, I leave.” It was simple: he was with Winx, no matter what. Even after all his doubts and fears, he would never watch her go. He’d be beside her.

  “Why?” she asked. “I don’t want you to go. You have so much to offer this pack, Keaton. Why would you stick by her?”

  “We belong together. I will not abandon her.”

  “She can take care of herself, and she prefers to be on her own. You’ve seen that. Maybe you need to consider that this is where you two go your separate ways. You don’t have to keep running to her rescue. Not when you have yourself to think about.”

  Keaton had seen that. If he were entirely honest with himself, he could admit it: Winx didn’t need him. But that didn’t change anything. “Winx and I, we have each other’s backs. It is what it is, Sabrina. And if you cannot understand that-”

  “Fine, fine! I just… we need you.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re strong, able, resourceful.” Sabrina smiled. “You could help patch the holes in this place. You’re alpha material.”

  “What about you? This is your place. Why don’t you consider yourself the alpha?”

  She brought a cup to her lips and sipped at its contents without looking at him. “We could both be alphas,” she mused.

  Winx didn’t like the snow at all, so when she walked out of the house, she remained on the porch. The best place to keep away from stares was facing the backyard. There were some bandits milling about, but it wasn’t as bad as it was in the front. She curled into a cushioned chaise and tore into her sandwich.

  Keaton was around his kind again even if it wasn’t his original pack, and they were equipped to console someone like him, someone who had lost almost everything. But the fact that Winx herself was also alone didn’t seem to register with any of them. She was the outsider here. And why should she have expected any different?

  She finished her food quickly, threw the plastic wrap onto the ground, and leaned back to stare at t
he blank white sky. Washington was starting to look a whole lot better.

  CHAPTER 7

  The tower was a stunning pearl marble. Tall columns stretched before skylights that poured in arresting amounts of sunlight. Rushes with tiny, perfectly bloomed flowers decorated the walls along with vases made of blown glass. It was a palace in every sense of the word.

  The princess’s room was just as immaculate. A bed with a lavender canopy dominated a large portion of the space, and a bubbling hot spring in a polished square smack in the middle took up much of the rest. Cozy chairs, a table, an entire entertainment center: it was everything a princess could possibly request.

  But Genevieve was not impressed. Or distracted.

  It probably went without saying that the lixyn hadn’t been happy about London and Roy compromising her breakfast or taking away her duties. She didn’t care for their myriad explanations, either. No, she would enact some sort of retribution when the opportunity arose.

  “I apologize, Your Highness,” London said for maybe the hundredth time. “But your uncle, the High Chancellor himself, demanded that we bring you to a safe l holding by any means necessary. He has been worried sick about you, and he’s terribly angry with me for allowing you to assist with our operations.” He gave her a small frown. “Which you assured me he knew about.”

  She did not feel any remorse for her fib. “I have an obligation to my people. All of my people. I’m not about to expect them to follow me blindly after all of these attacks.”

  “Your people, Princess, don’t expect you to put your own life on the line for their safety. No ruler ever does such a thing. You’re doing exactly what you should by employing the proper authorities to handle this situation, and by staying alive. That is your duty.”

  “I do not want to hear it!” Genevieve’s normally too-cute face was skewed with open outrage. “You drugged me and took me here against my will. My uncle could not have ordered that.”