Dark Rising Trilogy

by DeAnna Browne

  A scream tore through the room. Pove.

  Darion was there, behind the Soultorn. And in one quick movement, he sliced its neck. Both Becca and the Soultorn collapsed on the ground. Becca gasped, each breath laced with a throbbing ache. A dark mist rose up from the Soultorn’s body, like black snow swirling in the air. It built up momentum and then exploded, the effluvia gradually dissipating before touching the ground.

  Becca thought she’d seen demons killed before, but this was nothing like that. Strong arms pulled her back as the Soultorn’s body lit up in flames.

  “Are you okay?” Darion asked. He didn’t wait for an answer, but began his next incantation.

  She nodded. His arms were a warm comfort in the midst of hell. The smell of blood and burnt flesh awoke her with a renewed sense of panic.

  Pove, the market manager, raced toward them, curses filling the air.

  “Go,” Darion shouted, his coat charred and hair matted with blood. He turned to faced Pove. Without his demon, Pove was weaker, but he had other guards rushing to his aid.

  Darion didn’t need her to help. They’d discussed it before. His magic was easier when he only had to focus on keeping himself free of the flames. Her stomach sank at the idea of leaving. But she must.

  She found Caleb opening the other cages. “You okay?”

  He continued to work on the locks. “Fine.”

  She reached for his arm. They had to get out of here.

  Fire exploded nearby. Becca ducked down. Another explosion sounded far away.

  She blocked out the cacophony of screams, shouts, and curses that filled the air and turned her attention back to Caleb. He had a cage open, pulling out a petite blonde in a short green dress. The woman’s lips tightened in a fierce line as she watched chaos erupt around her.

  Becca yanked on his arm. “We gotta go.” Her voice was rough from when the Soultorn had almost strangled her. She grabbed her knife and purse on the floor. Darion was far from them, pushing back the guards with dancing flames. But she was never one to run from a fight.

  He glanced back at her, sweat dripping down his face. He nodded, urging her to leave. She would see him again. No matter what.

  “This way,” she told Caleb, rushing out the door.

  Once in the frantic crowd, Becca slowed her pace. She ran a hand through her hair, and attempted to blend in with the others. Shop keepers, closed up shop while wizards and witches hurried to different exits.

  An explosion echoed in the back of the market. A scream escaped a woman with pink hair who knocked into Becca.

  “It’s okay, dear,” a plump man said, patting her hand. “The coven will take care of it.”

  “Of course,” the woman replied with a slight waver to her voice, obviously on edge. “Let’s get out of here.”

  This upper class hasn’t been shaken up for some time, Becca guessed. It might be good for them. She veered toward the main exit—more people, less chance of being singled out. The blonde from the auction trailed next to Caleb. Becca would worry about that later.

  They hurried down the stone path and passed through the illusion. The smell of oil and dirt welcomed them back to reality. Becca coughed, her throat raw and pained.

  They were almost there. The smoke and roar of Darion’s fire was gone, replaced with cars racing out of the parking lot. Becca glanced back, the illusion gone from her eyes. She couldn’t just leave Darion. He was smart and knew how to fight. He would make it out. He had to.

  At the edge of the lot, Becca stopped by a large dumpster. The car was hidden a few more blocks down the street.

  “Please tell me you have a getaway car,” the young woman said, the strap of her dress falling over her shoulder.

  Becca narrowed her eyes. She was glad the girl got out, but she didn’t have time for an attitude. If Darion didn’t get out, Becca wasn’t leaving.

  “Caleb, head south a couple more blocks. We left a car there, next to an old wash shop. Keys will be on the floor. Take…” Becca looked at the girl.

  “Grace,” she said.

  “Take Grace and head out if there is trouble,”

  He squared his shoulders, in his stubborn way. “I’m not leaving.”

  A few blocks off, a small store exploded, spraying debris high into the sky.

  “This way.” Becca’s heart raced as they ran across the street. She raked her brain for a way to contact Darion.

  They only made it a few feet when a blue car pulled in front of them, blocking their path. She raised her knife.

  The dark window rolled down. Darion’s smile rose up on one side, his illusion gone. “What? The car’s not nice enough for you?”

  She lowered her knife and took a deep breath. She had never been so happy to see him. Hurrying around, she opened the passenger door. “Blue was never my favorite color.”

  Caleb and the girl slid into the back.

  The smell of smoke lingered in the car. Darion eyed her dress that was a little worse for wear. “We can’t all pull off silver like you can.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Becca’s hand tapped rapidly against her leg, while their car sped down the highway. Darion had taken off the illusion with a simple spell, evidently wanting to see the real Becca as much as she did.

  Though she was grateful to return to her rugged hands and smaller frame, the unease didn’t leave her stomach. She should be doing something, anything. She turned to look behind them again for signs of someone following them.

  The road was empty.

  “No one is following us,” Darion said, keeping his eyes focused ahead.

  In the back seat, Caleb looked as anxious as she did, glancing out the windows. Driving in cars was rare for both of them. A tin box out in the open left a big target.

  Next to Caleb, Grace leaned back against the seat, her dress riding up her leg. She played with a strand of hair and looked bored, as if running for her life was a daily occurrence.

  “We’re good, Becca.” Darion assured her. “We’re past the city limits. They won’t be able to trace us this far. I know a nearby town that we can get lost in.” They needed to run. Far and fast.

  “Wait,” Caleb said. “Why do we have to go to a city? Can’t we hide out in the country?”

  Darion gave a hearty laugh. “If you haven’t noticed, I’m not a country boy. I can char a good piece of meat, but that’s about the extent of my talents. And isn’t that where you came from?”

  “I’d pick the country any day over the wizards in the city.” The disgust in Caleb’s voice was evident.

  No one replied. Darion kept driving.

  Caleb ran a hand over his face. “What about Elizabeth? What about your answers?”

  Silence filled the car. Becca struggled to swallow. Her throat was tight from when the Soultorn almost choked her to death. What I wouldn’t give for ice water. Or a strong drink. She dreaded the coming conversation, reliving it all over again, but Caleb deserved it.

  She turned in her seat to face Caleb. “After Jeremiah knocked you out at Nikko’s—”

  “And sold me,” he added with a bitter scowl.

  “Yeah that too. After that, he knocked me out and I woke at his house. He said he saved Elizabeth from the fire, but she died from complications. But then, the bastard proceeded to burn off my Hand of Mary tattoo, so I’m not sure how much I trust his word.”

  Darion’s faced tightened at the mention of what he did, even though she left him out of it. Becca didn’t need a reason for Caleb to hate him.

  “What?” Confusion crossed Caleb’s face. “I know he always hated me, but you’re family.”

  “Yeah, some family. Also found out my dear old uncle is a Master Magician and member of Ryma’s inner circle. One hell of a family.” She swallowed a lump in her throat and turned to watch the green trees pass by in a blur. “I’m not sure what happened. He must have played a role in the fires. I just can’t figure out what for. Revenge from another magician on his family?”

  “
I haven’t heard of anything,” Darion said.

  Caleb’s face flushed with anger. “So they’re just going to get away with it?”

  “There’s nothing we can do. We’re not strong enough to take on Jeremiah.” She could only wish getting to her uncle would be so easy.

  Instead, Elizabeth’s death felt hollow and meaningless. It festered like an open wound. Shame washed over her that she didn’t save her sister. No, instead they were running from Jeremiah—the man who should pay for it.

  But how could she fight her uncle? How could she fight someone who could use her, bend her will, and twist her into whatever he wanted? Becca’s stomach turned at the memories from her youth and what her uncle was really capable of.

  “Who’s Elizabeth?” Darion asked.

  “My sister, a couple years younger than me.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You said you didn’t have a sister.”

  “I don’t, anymore.”

  Darion jerked the car to the side of the road. It bounced over the uneven weeds and rocks.

  “What the hell?” Grace exclaimed in the back seat.

  They rattled in their seats as the car slowed to a stop by a cluster of trees.

  Becca couldn’t imagine this was all about omitting her family history. “What’s wrong?”

  Darion parked the car and turned on Becca. “You said you didn’t have a sister when I asked you at Nevada’s.” It was more of an accusation than a statement.

  “I don’t. She died with the rest of my family.”

  She’d purposefully avoided telling Darion about her family. She didn’t want to relive the past and see the pity in his eyes. It had always been that way between them. She never spoke about her past, and he didn’t push her.

  “What happened? Exactly.”

  His eyes were intent and serious. Something wasn’t adding up.

  “Wizards happened,” Caleb answered. “They burned our homesteads to the ground. We found our parents’ remains, but didn’t find her sister Elizabeth. That’s when we started looking for you for answers, but Jeremiah found us first.”

  “Your sister, does she look like you?” Darion asked.

  “No,” she said. A sinking sensation pulled at her.

  “Blonde? Petite?”

  “Yeah.” Becca’s breath picked up. How did he know?

  “Hand of Mary tattoo, the same as yours?”

  “We both got them as children.” Becca could hear his words, but wasn’t sure what he was saying. A sick feeling rose in her throat. “How did you know?”

  Darion leaned back into the seat and let out a long breath before speaking. “Jeremiah called me up for a job. A few days before I found you. He wanted for me to remove a tattoo, just like yours, off a girl.”

  Her breath caught in her throat.

  “I think he’s building his forces,” Darion continued.

  “But Jeremiah said she was…”

  “She was alive the day before I rescued you. No injuries from a fire that I saw. After talking to him, I think he has some big plans for her. And for his role in the coven.”

  She leaned forward on the dash of the car, her heart pounding. “She’s alive.” Her sister was alive. A rush of relief ran through her body. Silent tears fell into her lap.

  “Thank God,” Caleb whispered from the back row.

  Darion laid a warm hand on her back. It took several minutes before her breath slowed and Becca understood everything he’d said.

  “What plans?” She forced the words out as she straightened up.

  “I’m not sure, exactly,” Darion said softly. “He hinted at a coup or rebellion, but I have a hard time believing he’d challenge Ryma.”

  “Why Elizabeth?”

  “He removed her tattoo for a reason. The way Jeremiah is caring for her, I’d assumed it would be to host a high-level demon.”

  There was a tightness crushing Becca’s chest. She wanted to scream, to release the pressure building inside of her.

  His eyes were sincere as he reached for her hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know she was your sister.”

  She pulled back and averted his gaze. She’s a person. It was cruel to blame him for Elizabeth’s capture, but it hurt to know Elizabeth was so close. Maybe even in the same house. Darion drew back, giving her space.

  “What’s Jeremiah doing?” Caleb asked, anger tightening his words. “What does this have to do with my family?”

  “I’m not sure how the two are connected.” Darion stared straight over the steering wheel, a mask concealing all emotion. “Maybe your parents were witnesses? He’s trying to gain power, make a move up in the coven. And if your families were outside city walls and stood in his way…well, Ryma won’t reprimand him for it.”

  Becca felt as if there was more to it than that, but she could care less about politics. Her sister dying was one thing, watching her be turned into a Soultorn to be used by her uncle, that was more than she could bear.

  She faced forward, biting back tears. There wasn’t time for those. “We have to save her.”

  “We won’t be able to get into Jeremiah’s place, or know for sure which one of his many holdings he’s at. His wards are some of the strongest in the city.”

  Becca wasn’t going to leave Elizabeth there. “There has to be something.”

  “There will be a coven meeting soon. Lots of people coming in and out. It’ll be our best chance. All the thirteen leaders have to be there for upper-level magic. If he has plans for her, he’ll bring her. They’ll do the ceremony there.” Darion stared off, a haunted look in his eyes.

  Becca sat up, strengthening her reserve. She couldn’t let

  Jeremiah get away with this, with any of it. “Turn the car around. We’re not running, we’re fighting.”

  Caleb punched his seat. “Hell, yeah.”

  Grace sat up straight. “And here I thought things were going to get boring with you guys.”

  Becca glared at Grace. She might not deserve Becca’s anger, but Becca didn’t ask her to get in the car. “Who said you’re coming along?”

  “Rebecca.” Caleb said her name as a warning. One she didn’t need.

  “Where I’m going next, I’m sure she doesn’t want to follow. We can take her to the city.” Becca glanced in Grace’s direction. “Don’t worry. She knows how to survive on the streets.” She regretted the words once they left her mouth. It wasn’t about Grace, but this little blonde was one more thing Becca didn’t want to deal with.

  “Rebecca,” Caleb tried again.

  “I gotta take a leak,” Grace said casually and opened the car door. “Just so you know, I’m no whore. I was a slave.”

  Guilt stabbed at Becca.

  “Yeah. I never chose my life. But don’t worry. I don’t need some wannabe magician to survive.” Grace turned to Caleb, one leg already out the door. “No hard feelings, muscles, if you’re not here when I get back.” She strode off into the forest without looking back.

  Becca pushed her conscience away. It was only a couple miles to city limits. Grace could find work there, just like Becca had done years ago. She needed to focus on her sister.

  “You kept telling me how you’ve changed, Rebecca. But despite your new ability with a knife, I never saw it. Until now. I’m sure you wished Darion would have helped your sister, not because he knew you, but because she needed it.” Caleb slammed the car door as he left.

  Becca hit the dashboard. He was right, but she wasn’t ready to admit it.

  “Is he always this self-righteous?” Darion said, no levity in his voice.

  “He’s going to get himself killed.”

  “Maybe. But I bet he sleeps pretty well at night.”

  She grabbed the door handle to go track Caleb down. She wasn’t going to leave him out here and, if that included bringing Grace along, then so be it.

  “Give it a bit. Cool down.”

  “I don’t need to cool down,” she huffed and wished she could have said it a little calmer. She sank in
to the seat, admitting defeat. “Why doesn’t he understand?”

  “He’s a good guy. There’s not much of that left out here. As infuriating as it is, he’ll save every stray along the way, despite the cost. Sometimes, that goodness is worth saving.”

  Darion flipped his lighter again. “Damn saint.”

  It was true. Caleb contained something rare and pure that reminded her of home. It was that same goodness that wouldn’t let him abandon a slave outside the city. Becca would always love and care for Caleb as much as family. But was that all?

  Darion studied her closely, as if trying to pick out the same thoughts she was trying to straighten.

  “So back to the city?” she asked.

  “I have a place we can hide out for a couple days. Up north, bordering the city limits. Who knows? By then, they might get a glimpse of what we’re up against and decide to head off on their own. Run into the woods and create a little family or something.”

  The idea put a sour taste in her mouth. “Sure.”

  “You know we have to talk about what happened back there at the market.”

  She opened her mouth to deny it, but one glance at his face and she knew better. She had pushed away the incident, not wanting to face the truth of what she might be. “I’m not sure what happened.”

  “I know. But we need to figure it out before we face your dear uncle again.”

  She closed her eyes briefly. The idea of having this weird magic inside of her for years made her chest tighten. She didn’t want to be anything like her uncle. “I’m not a magician. Wouldn’t I have known it?”

  “Your Hand of Mary may have suppressed it.”

  “But I can’t be. I’m not—” Part of her knew it was a lie. Since her tattoo was removed, she had been feeling other magicians’ power. At first she’d thought it was just Darion.

  His magic was warm and smoothing. She’d thought he’d projected it purposely. But at the market, the prickling of magic over her skin was constant, something she’d never felt before.