Dark Rising Trilogy

by DeAnna Browne

  Sweat dripped down the side of Darion’s face as the fire return to normal. “It’s been awhile since I pulled that out of the fire.”

  “Can I let go?” Becca asked, her heart hammering in her chest.

  “I guess.” He pulled back. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” Her hands shook as she wrapped them around herself. She struggled to find her magic. After several quiet moments, she could feel the quiet humming.

  It was still there, her magic resonating deep within. She stood, avoiding his gaze. “I need a drink. It’s hot in here.”

  “Okay. Let’s take a break,” he said, standing up as she hurried out the door.

  The rush of power was thrilling to Becca, intoxicating even. Her limbs tingled with each step. Fear coursed through her body—not at the show of their magic, but because she liked it.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “You can do this,” Becca told herself in the bathroom mirror. She had hidden in the bathroom for long enough. As her father had often told her, “Time to pull up the bootstraps, princess.”

  She pulled her hair back into a tight ponytail and headed back to practice.

  Darion kept his distance and carried himself with an unfamiliar formality. They didn’t physically connect magic again. Instead, they focused on elemental magic.

  “There are five elements essential in completing a pentagram: Fire, Water, Earth, Wind, and Spirit,” he explained as he laid out small silver bowls of water, dirt, and sticks on the coffee table. “I’m pretty sure, your affinity is to spirit, but we need to know if it entails other elements.”

  Becca hesitantly picked up the bowl, not sure why she was nervous.

  “I want you to hold the water and repeat the word, pello,” he said. “The word is Latin for to move or drive forward. But the word isn’t always as important as the meaning and focus behind it. The words, often varying, help hold one’s attention and focus your energy.”

  “So I could use any word for a spell?” Why can’t magicians simplify things?

  “In theory, yes. But common words don’t hold the emphasis for us. We need something, outside our normal vernacular to help focus the magic.”

  Latin it was then. Becca held the bowl, focused her power, and repeated the word. She didn’t have the same rush or explosion of power as before. There was a slight ripple in the water, but it could have been her shaking hands.

  “Nope.” He replaced the bowl in her hands with a small one of dirt.

  She tried again, repeating the same spell. Nothing. She couldn’t even get the small pile of sticks to smoke. They opened a window and tried for a breeze but the air seemed to stop in its place. A small part of her was disappointed. If she was going to have magic, she would rather have something practical.

  “Spirit,” Darion said, scooting the bowls to the side. “I figured as much. It’s just a bit more difficult to train for.”

  “How’s that?” Becca couldn’t imagine how she would train at all.

  “There are several different types of magicians that specialize in spirit magic. It’s more complex and difficult to determine.” He shifted from foot to foot. “There are those that excel in calling the dead, in controlling demons, or control the living, an enchantress.”

  “Enchantress?” It sounded like some kind of prostitute.

  “Yeah.” He nodded. “Makes sense. It’s your uncle’s specialty. Granted he is gifted in several areas.”

  “That man is a curse, nothing more.” She bit back her fury. Darion wasn’t to blame for her family tree. And neither was she, she reminded herself.

  “I agree.” Darion’s studied her closely, as if looking beyond her words. “But we need to see what you can do.”

  She took a deep breath. “Okay.”

  He closed the gap between them. “Grab my hand.”

  “Is this like before?” She remembered the rush of power and sizzle of magic between them.

  “No. I’m won’t use a spell, and my barriers are tight. I want to see if you can affect my spirit or consciousness.” He held out his hand.

  She grabbed it lightly. Something so simple, felt like so much more. His touch grounded her. She could feel the warmth in her face. “What’s next?”

  “Gather your magic, like we practiced before. Then speak the word Impero. Focus your energy on making me move or do something against my will.”

  “Can I do that?” As interesting the power might be, it unsettled her to control others like her uncle could. She wanted to be nothing like that man.

  “I’m not sure.” He stood close. His damp hair brushed back out of his face. “But we should find out.”

  She closed her eyes, steadied her breath, and searched for the humming deep within. She focused on the soft noise until it grew into a constant buzzing. She then opened her eyes. “Impero.”

  Something passed between them and Darion’s eyes glossed over briefly. Confusion crossed his face as he stared at his shoe. “Why did I want my shoe?”

  Becca couldn’t help the smile that crept onto her face. “Because I wanted you to eat it.”

  He guffawed. “Eat it? Come on, Becca. I’m not going to subject myself if you’re that cruel.”

  “I would have stopped you.”

  “If you could have. Changing courses can be tricky. But the fact you forced a thought into my head is impressive.”

  “So what does this mean?” Her smile fled. What did this make her?

  His edges of his mouth turned up. “It means you won’t have to ever ask twice for a date.”

  “Seriously.”

  “You have an affinity to Spirits. If developed enough, you could become an enchantress. We haven’t seen your ability with the dead or a demon, but the possibilities are there.”

  “Possibilities…” She didn’t want to control demons, but better to control than to be controlled by one. Then she thought of talking to her parents one more time. “What about the dead?”

  “Calling the dead is hard, but it can be done. You need a part of the person. And the longer they’re dead, the more magic is needed. You would need the strength of a demon.”

  She wondered about her parents. Could they tell her what happened? What she should do now? Their bodies were far away. And part of her was scared to show them who she had become.

  “Raising the dead isn’t a skill that will help us save your sister, so I’m not going to focus on it.”

  Becca nodded, pushing out the idea of her parents. Let them rest in peace. “Okay. So what’s next? You eat my shoe?”

  “How about some defense?”

  “Sounds good.”

  Unfortunately, nothing was ever as it sounded.

  Two hours later, Becca decided defense wasn’t her forte. She couldn’t gather her magic enough to block a weak spell or even freeze a fly.

  It had been a long day of failures, weak attempts, and pathetic consolation.

  She leaned over panting, sweat dripping down her face, as she attempted to shield herself from Darion. “Contego,” she said firmly, with a confidence she didn’t possess.

  Some magicians didn’t need to speak the word, but that was few and far between Darion had told her. She obviously needed to scream the word for it to work.

  From a few feet away, Darion threw a piece of plastic fruit at her. It hit her arm. She sank into the couch and kicked it back to him.

  “I don’t have anything left.” She wiped sweat off her forehead. Her gray shirt was damp with sweat. “I don’t feel any magic at all.”

  “That’s when you have to push past yourself,” Darion explained. “Gather the potentia around us.”

  “Potentia?” She was tired of this new language. “Why can’t you people speak English?

  “Latin for power. Imagine a fog or vapor settled all around us from the other dimension. If you can harness that power, it’s yours for the taking.”

  “If only it was that easy.”

  “It’s not easy. Most wizards went to school for year
s to master it.”

  “And I only have two more days.”

  He smirked. “You’re a fast learner.”

  She threw a pillow. He stopped it a foot in front of his face then plucked it out of the air. “Really? You can do better than pillows.”

  Grace peeked her head in. “Working hard, huh?”

  Becca dropped the pillow, and guilt settled in. The task ahead of her was impossible. Even if she had months to prepare, she would never be ready.

  “We’re trying to,” Darion answered. “But Becca isn’t the easiest student.” He lifted one of the pillows in jest.

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Grace set a couple forks and jars of beets on the table. “Something to it eat?”

  “Beets? Good thing my taste buds ran away years ago.” Becca grabbed a fork, hoping food would ease the headache drumming in the back of her head.

  “Thanks for the food,” Darion replied.

  Grace shrugged. “I figure it’s fair for room and board.”

  “And all the clothes you’ve raided?” Darion asked, but as he dug into the food, he didn’t appear bothered.

  “I need them more than she does.”

  Becca rolled her eyes. She tried to not think the about the girl or Darion’s past. This magical Darion, one with a past she’d never heard about, was like a closed box she wasn’t sure she wanted to open.

  Grace turned to Darion. “Caleb wanted to know if you wanted to bring the catch in before or after dinner.”

  “Probably after dinner,” he replied.

  Becca cocked an eyebrow. “Bring what in?”

  His eyes drifted to the floor. “Our next lesson.”

  “What is it?”

  He avoided Becca’s eyes and turned back to Grace. “Go ahead, and tell him to bring it now.”

  After she left the room, Becca asked again. “What is it?”

  “It’s hard to explain how to contain a person or animal in a pentagram. We needed—”

  “I’m not calling a demon to play with.” Fear ate at her reserve. The idea of calling a demon, of pulling its power inside of her, made her insides cold.

  “This isn’t a game.” His voice grew quiet, his eyes darkening. “I don’t sit around playing with living things for the fun of it. You learn to survive.”

  Caleb knocked on the door and then walked in with a cage in one hand, a small red fox inside. The animal hissed at them as it was placed on the table.

  She couldn’t blame the fox. She couldn’t count how many times she felt trapped in this crazy world, fighting to survive.

  “He broke his foot on someone’s trap,” Caleb told her.

  Becca stood up. “I’m not putting a devil in that thing.” It wasn’t the killing that bothered her. She’d hunted before. But how could she call on devils without some part of that darkness tainting her.

  “Why not?” Darion stood, color flooding his face. “Because it’s not some two-bit job Nikko is offering you? Nikko gives people drugs or supplies their dark magic.”

  “It’s different,” she said between clenched teeth. She did what she had to. She never forced anyone to take drugs. And she was pretty sure that this animal didn’t want this.

  Darion slammed his hand against the cage and the fox snarled. “This animal is going to die. So you can learn something that might save your sister. Or we can all die trying.” He stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

  “Take it out,” Becca told Caleb.

  “As much as it kills me to say it, he’s right,” he said, picking up the cage. “I was hoping to get a decent pelt off of it actually.” He started out but turned at the door. “You won’t become your uncle.”

  “I know.” She touched her neck, the wound slowly healing. “But my mother gave my tattoo to me for a reason. Maybe she knew what I was going to become and wanted to save me from it, to save me from whatever twisted witch I could become.”

  “I don’t think she wanted you to be a drug runner either, though. And who’s to say what you’re going to become. Only you can decide.” He paused, waiting until she looked at him. “Don’t worry. I’ll be around to kick your butt, if needed.” He walked out the door.

  They were right, both of them. But there was fear in the pit of her stomach that didn’t want to do it. She remembered what Darion said back at the market about transferring a demon out of the host. Maybe she could do that and save the fox. But it wasn’t the fox that scared her. It was the idea of drawing power from the depths of hell, touching it, and still remaining true to herself.

  Darion stood on the porch, watching the forest that surrounded him. Night had fallen dark and thick amongst the trees. Only a few bright stars peeked through the canopy of leaves.

  He’d never felt so helpless being one of the magically strongest people in the house. And maybe that was why. He was responsible for these people, some practically strangers, and, more than likely, they would all end up dead or imprisoned by the end of the week.

  And Becca!

  He paced, wishing he could shake some sense into her. He would do anything for that girl, but watching her die at the hands of Jeremiah was not one of them.

  Caleb came out the front door. “You want to be alone out here?”

  Darion stopped pacing and held tight to the wood railing, staring out into the surrounding forest. “I’m okay.”

  “She really knows how to get to you, huh?”

  Darion didn’t answer. Becca was infuriating at every level. Her stubbornness was going to get them all killed. How could he teach her with years of ignorance to overcome?

  The heaviness of night settled around them. Darion reminded himself to breathe. Maybe this country boy had it right. Darion didn’t think he’d miss the madness of the city.

  Caleb relaxed on a nearby porch chair, tilting it back against the house. He was the quiet type which Darion respected, but part of him wanted to pry into Caleb’s mind to see what he could find out about Becca. Maybe he didn’t want to know.

  “Was Becca always this infuriating?” Darion finally asked, his face turned out to the night.

  “Yes, and no.” Caleb chuckled. “I haven’t seen her for years. When I knew her, she was impulsive and stubborn, but not so afraid or angry.”

  Darion would have loved to seen that Becca, but then she wouldn’t be his Becca. The one who would infuriate him one minute then excite and challenge him the next. He admired the brave and determined Becca who would only lower her guard when they were alone. He missed his Becca, the one who trusted him without a second look. He might never get that chance back again.

  He turned to face Caleb, resting on the railing. “What about her uncle? Wasn’t he around?”

  “No.” Caleb shook his head. “He would come to visit rarely. And if so, I was always shown the door. But, man, she loved the wild. She had the sense of being a lady drilled into her along with her fear of magic. But her spirit was always free.” He spoke with a longing in his voice that set

  Darion’s nerves on edge. “Now, she’s different.”

  “This world has a tendency to break all of us a bit,” Darion said. He couldn’t ever remember a time when he thought the game of life was played by fair rules. His life was planned for him since birth, and nothing had turned out the way it should have, starting out with his parents’ death. All because of their faithful service to the coven.

  A dim porch light shone behind Caleb, casting shadows on his sober features. “True, but you never saw her whole.”

  Turning back to face the dark night, Darion struggled to find a solution that left everyone unharmed. “I can’t see an answer. There’s not a way inside Ryma’s estate that doesn’t end with us being captured.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I’m going over and over the possibilities, and I don’t find anything.”

  Caleb tipped the chair back down on all fours. A night owl sounded in the distance, accompanying the other insects’ song. “I don’t think any of this are under the assumption that we’re getti
ng out of this unscathed.”

  “You’re okay with Becca getting hurt?”

  Caleb flinched. “Of course not. But if you think she’ll stay on the sidelines while her sister’s life is at stake, you don’t know her very well.”

  “I know her. That’s the problem.” Darion pulled out his lighter and flicked it on. Frustration built inside. He was ready to start this whole forest on fire. But that wouldn’t help. He’d tried it before.

  “We don’t expect you to save us,” Caleb said. “Just fight with us.”

  You can’t fight this, Darion wanted to tell him. The coven was stronger than all of them. Thirteen of the most powerful magicians in the state compared to one pyro, one untrained enchantress, and two Mundanes. Those weren’t odds, but casket options. He’d already told them several times. Maybe they didn’t understand, or maybe Caleb understood and it didn’t matter.

  Darion closed his lighter with a click and turned to Caleb. “You know, sometimes you’re hard to hate.”

  “I know how you feel. Then I watch you with Becca, and you make it easy.”

  Becca. It all came back to Becca. Darion loved her. He had to admit that to himself. Damned as he might be, he loved her. Even if he’d didn’t have her.

  “Caleb, if anything happens to me, you have to grab Becca and run. Okay?” He couldn’t bear the idea of putting everything on the line and still losing Becca.

  Caleb straightened. “What do you mean? What are you planning?”

  “Nothing yet.” Darion shook his head slightly. Ideas raced through his mind. He loved this stubborn girl. Admitting that to himself helped him realize how far he was willing to go for her. “Just promise me you’ll get her out, with or without her sister. Even if you have to duct tape her and throw her over your shoulder.”

  Caleb looked him straight in the eye. “I give you my word.”