Dark Rising Trilogy

by DeAnna Browne

  Granted, she had been here before and recognized many of the servants and guards. She headed down the stairs to the basement, to the complex system of servants washing, cooking, and mending—whatever was required of them. It took an army to run an estate this size. That was what this was, an army of ants, buzzing around, and unseen, for the most part.

  She arrived at the kitchen that was teaming with servants and hot dishes. Cooked tomatoes and garlic filled the air. She hadn’t eaten all day, but that didn’t matter. She couldn’t lose this opportunity.

  She caught the eye of a sandy-haired man. “Hey, is there any way I could get some drinks and snacks for Jaqar.”

  The man’s eyes widened slightly at the name.

  “He works up quite the appetite, you know?” Grace twirled a piece of hair, acting bored, while the man looked her up and down. Yeah, buddy, soak it in, ’cause it’s the last you’ll see of me.

  She couldn’t blame him too much. The green blouse she slept in clung to her chest, and the black soft pants fit like a second skin.

  The man looked over at an older woman, with silver hair wrapped in a bun.

  She nodded. “I’ll get you a plate of muffins and coffee.”

  “Fruit too,” Grace added. “Jaq loves his fruit.”

  The man chuckled and ordered a young homely girl to put together the plate. Grace leaned against the wall, waiting. She almost envied these workers hidden below. Most were too plain, or marred, to be presented in the estate. Down here, people lived a simple life with a decent wage. Grace always imagined her mother working at a place like this.

  Never meeting her mother, Grace’s imagination was all she had.

  Instead, she found herself barely nineteen and plotting her first murder. Actually, she’d been planning it since she lived at Jaq’s. But this is the closest she had ever come after years of dreaming about it.

  “Got a smoke?” she asked a bus boy as he went by, but he shook his head. She continued to twirl her hair, forcing herself to stay calm. No use in tripping before the finish line.

  They finally handed her a tray, and she carried it back upstairs. She passed a guard who told her Jaq’s room number. It was the farthest from the dining area. The same room he stayed in before.

  Being he was the black sheep of the coven, Ryma often hid him away. Ryma ignored the girls Jaq tortured and people he hurt. This time, the isolation would make things easier.

  Before she got too close, Grace set the tray on an entry table. She pulled a tiny vial from her bra. It contained three small white balls that she’d procured earlier from the cabin. She’d found them when digging around in the master bathroom.

  It was a sign, a gift that she had been waiting for since she first met Jaq. She crushed one bead in the bottom of each mug and poured the steaming hot coffee on top, dissolving the last trace of poison. The last bead rolled around in the vial.

  Before she could think too much, she popped the bead into her mouth, carefully tucking it under her tongue. She didn’t want to think what would happen if she was caught. A murderous servant received a grisly reward.

  She wiped her damp palms on her skirt. She couldn’t tell if it was excitement or nerves. Picking up the tray, she continued forward.

  A tall security guard stood in front of the door. He was a lithe man, with wide shoulders. Jaq usually had a guard outside his room. Not for magical protection—he was strong enough on his own—but to help cover his extracurricular activities from the more prominent straight-laced members of the coven.

  Grace flashed the guard a sexy smile. “Room service.”

  “We didn’t order anything.”

  “I’m an old friend, hoping to reconnect,” she tried again. “Thought he’d like his usual coffee and Vodka. I know it’s his favorite.”

  The man stared intently at her, as if trying to decipher her true intentions. He looked over the tray and popped a blueberry in his mouth.

  “So, you just show up and think you can get an audience with Jaqar. You may want to try another door, or maybe wait till I’m off work.” He smirked, picked up a spoon from the tray, and stirred in a bit of sugar.

  Her heart picked up its pace. “This isn’t for you,” she told him, stepping backward. “I came for Jaq.”

  It wasn’t quick enough. The man picked up the mug, with a cocky eagerness.

  “Stop—”she said. She couldn’t let this man ruin her plan.

  He ignored the warning and took a drink. “You think a two-bit girl like you isn’t worth my time or money. Always wanting the big fish, but I’ll tell you—”

  The man slumped to the ground, the coffee spilling. He twitched for several moments then stilled. The first man she had ever killed lay at her feet, and all she could think was that it was the wrong one.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  “Elizabeth,” Becca cried out.

  But Elizabeth didn’t move. She was focused on some spot in the distance, but thankfully her eyes were still clear blue. She wore a red lace dress that clung tight.

  “Elizabeth,” Becca screamed louder, hoping to jar her sister out of whatever trance he’d put her in.

  “Please. She’s not going to respond to you,” Jeremiah said.

  “What did you do to her?”

  He rubbed her sister’s arm. “Just calmed her down a bit.”

  Becca banged on the invisible barrier, ignoring the pain shooting up her arms. “Why her?”

  “Because it couldn’t be you. The day I found you in the barn with that boy, I knew I had to find someone else.”

  She froze, the truth of those words stabbing at her. She had been trying to find Elizabeth, save her, and now, she realized she gave her sister up to this monster years ago. Guilt stabbed at her.

  He dismissed the older woman in the room and then proceeded to sit Elizabeth down in a chair. Becca’s rage flared. How dare he touch her, and treat her like something he owned. He sat himself down in the chair across from Elizabeth. He had no right to be near her sister.

  “Why don’t you use me instead? Let her go.” Anger laced every word. “A willing volunteer has to be worth something.”

  He scoffed at the idea. “Rebecca, that ship sailed long ago. You tarnished yourself with that farm boy. A demon of Bael’s power demands a clean, pure sacrifice. And that was no longer you.”

  He smiled, and Becca wanted to claw the image of his face. Was that why he abused Becca years ago, because she no longer matched his definition of pure? He made sure of that.

  The upside, though, was that maybe Jeremiah hadn’t touched Elizabeth. He better not have.

  She pushed back those memories. She had given them too much power over her life. Pounding on the cage walls, she poured her magic into her fists, She couldn’t sit here watching her uncle. He needed to die.

  In a flash, she flew to the back of the cage. It felt like a hundred ropes pulled her back, her body struggling to move.

  “Let’s not hurt yourself. You still have some worth. You’re a present really, to help secure my place.” He poured himself a drink, while Elizabeth sat in a frozen stupor.

  “You’re sick.” Becca panted, struggling against the magic that bound her. “You’re my uncle.”

  “I’m strengthening our family name. Our magic has been repressed for too many decades by religious bigots. But don’t worry. We’ll be known again. And your sacrifice will be considered noble by my descendants.”

  “My mother trusted you. And you killed her, and my father. I’ll spit on your dead body as you rot in hell.” She would use her last breath to kill him, if that was what it took.

  “If I do, I’ll be welcomed there like the royalty I am.” He raised his glass in the air as if toasting his own grandeur—or psychopathic greatness as Becca thought of it.

  She struggled to keep her face empty of her emotions, fear eating away at her from the inside. Darion and Caleb were gone, probably murdered by the monster in front of her.

  Even Grace deserved more than ending bac
k up for sale. And all three of them, even Elizabeth, would have been better off without her. The ache in her chest made each breath difficult.

  Her dark fears surrounded her, closing in. As much as she loathed to admit it, she was powerless against this monster. Though she’d sacrifice it all for her sister, her all wasn’t enough.

  Grace froze. She had seen dead people before. After all, she had lived in Jaq’s house. But she’d never killed someone. Did he have a family? Loved ones?

  He worked for Jaq, she reminded herself. Grace had been handed off to several of Jaq’s men to be raped more than once. Jaq would say it was her job. But no more. This man sold his soul to the devil already. She just moved up the appointment.

  A muffled noise came from down the hall.

  Crap! A dead man in the hall was going to create a problem. She set the tray down, hooked her hands under his arms, and pulled. Damn, this man was heavy. She remembered a sitting room off the hall and dragged the body down there. Her arms strained as she hurried into the room.

  It held a coffee table and a couple of chairs. She rolled him under the table, shoving his legs in tight. The pearl shaped poison slid from under her tongue.

  She froze, a hand covering her mouth. She had to be more careful. One small bite and she would be lying next to this man. She tucked the pill carefully back under her tongue.

  She grabbed a nearby duvet, spread it on the coffee table, and placed the centerpiece back on top. I’d hate to be the cleaning person to find that mess.

  It was getting late. The darkness of night shadowed the room. If she didn’t hurry, she might miss Jaq. She took a deep breath to slow her shaking hands.

  Hurrying back to Jaq’s room at the end of the hall, she steeled her courage. She picked up the empty mug off the floor, and hid it in a nearby flower arrangement.

  She closed her eyes and swallowed carefully. I can do this. She had to do this. Or she would never forgive herself. Before she could bend down to pick up her tray, the door opened.

  It was him, Jaqar—the monster who had haunted her sleep for years.

  “You’re not Eddie.” His brows raised in question.

  Looking Grace up and down, he straightened slightly, adjusting his clothes. His long blond hair and muscular body were set off by a dark suit. Licking his lips, he acted as if she was his next meal. His ego demanded a whole separate room.

  Grace consciously slid her mask in place. She lifted her chin and bit on her lower lip slightly. “Remember me?” Her insides churned at her velvet voice.

  His eyes flashed in excitement. “Barbie, was it? Or Candy?”

  “Candy,” she agreed. She easily donned a different name, she actually preferred it. Then they never touched her, the real Grace. Just the name she pretended to be.

  He reached for her arm. “Good to see you again.”

  Her blood boiled, but she kept that tapped down. She had years of perfecting that ability. “Wish I could say the same,” she said with a smile.

  “I always liked that attitude of yours.” He pulled her in close as her heels dragged on the heavy rug.

  “I am someone else’s property now, Jaq.” She held back the revulsion. He was sweaty with a slightly floral smell, sickening sweet. “I am not yours anymore.”

  He laughed loudly, getting more excited by her refusal. She’d watched him play this game more than once. Like a child, Jaq always wanted what wasn’t his. She tugged against his grasp, but he just tightened it, pulling her close, his vile breath hot on her neck.

  She closed her eyes briefly for what was about to happen. She was ready, she told herself. It was worth the price to see him dead. Worth the countless hours of torture, rape, and murder she had witnessed and endured at his hand. This was a cost she was more than willing to bear.

  He forced his mouth hard and heavy on hers. And before doubt entered her mind, she bit down on the capsule, a tasteless fluid flooding her mouth. Without swallowing, she pushed the poison into his mouth.

  He was briefly excited, thinking somehow she was participating in this sick game. He paused for a moment, and fear coursed through her body. Could he taste it? Could he stop it in time?

  He began kissing her harder, his hands digging into her arms. She struggled under his grasp, not needing to pretend anymore. She wanted away from this man, and the poison in his mouth.

  It had to work. She’d been planning for years. Once learning of the poison, she’d thought about taking it herself. That was before she met Caleb. Pure, innocent Caleb that saw her as more than she ever was.

  By the time Grace had counted to six, his body tightened around hers. His eyes, pale and wide, showed the surprise the rest of his paralyzed body could not. Grace untangled herself from him and began spitting out the poison from her mouth until there was nothing left.

  Jaq’s body trembled on the floor, face down. He deserved to die that way. After several long seconds, his body stopped moving. She’d done it. He was dead.

  “My name’s Grace, you bastard,” she spit.

  A slight tingling began in her fingers. Nerves, she told herself. Raising her hand, she noticed it shaking uncontrollably. She grabbed the wall to steady herself. Her legs were no longer under her control.

  She must have swallowed some of the poison. The small amount of poison she might have absorbed couldn’t kill her. Right?

  Watching Jaq’s dead body, she couldn’t muster any regret.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Indecision racked Caleb. He wasn’t sure where to go next to find Becca. He’d be best to follow Grace’s lead and poise as a servant, but he didn’t know exactly how to do that. Hiding out in this bedroom with the man he just killed wasn’t a good option.

  He would borrow his clothes, though. The man’s dark buttoned shirt looked like some type of uniform, with a crisp collar. Caleb cringed at the smoky smell of the man, as he undressed him. The sleeve fell above his wrists and the material stretched tight across his shoulder. It would have to do. He pushed through his uncertainty and left the room, locking the door behind him.

  It was a hallway with plush carpet and scones lining the beige walls. To his left the hallway dead ended, so right it was. He meandered through the halls for time, trying to get a feel for where he was at. He passed a couple ladies that had a similar dark uniform. They watched him, but didn’t say a word.

  At a window, he peered through the heavy curtains. This was more than a home, they were at an estate, a mansion.

  Grace had to be right. There were at Ryma’s. He’d better move fast.

  After talking to a young servant, he realized he needed to go upstairs for Jeremiah’s private rooms. He slowly made his way up and began searching that floor. Unfortunately, it was a little more crowded. Anxiety bubbled up in his stomach, as he approached a couple, obviously dressed for the party. They passed by without a second glance.

  The man behind them though had a similar black shirt and clipboard in hand. Giving Caleb a double take, he stopped him in the hall.

  “What are you doing way up here?” The man was shorter than Caleb but somehow managed to still look down his nose at him.

  “I was told to come up.” It was the simplest lie he could think of.

  “By who?”

  “Jaqar.” It was the only name he could use besides Ryma or Jeremiah. And maybe he could help out Grace.

  “Maybe…” The man wasn’t buying it. He flipped through papers on his clipboard. “What’s your name?”

  With a hand clenched into a fist, Caleb prepared to answer the man the hard way.

  “Caleb, my man” Darion called out to him from down the hall. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Did you get lost again? I swear you’re as dumb as a minor demon.”

  The small man gave Caleb a dirty look. “Get your act together or I’ll feed you to a minor demon.” He stormed off before Caleb could reply.

  “Have you seen Becca?” Darion asked, beating Caleb only by a second.

  “No. I was searching
for her now.” Caleb wondered how Darion made it out.

  He appeared to be in okay shape.

  Caleb grabbed his arm, pulling him in close. “Did you do this?”

  “Yes and no.” Darion didn’t flinch. “I didn’t want for us to come this way, but we can fight about it later. We need to find Becca. I have a sinking feeling she’s part of the festivities that are due to start soon.”

  As much as Caleb wanted to hate him, Darion was their only way out. Releasing his arm, Caleb stepped back. Darion wasn’t the enemy, not now. “Lead the way.”

  “This is the back way to the ceremonial rooms,” Darion explained as he maneuvered the hallways. “Less people this way. If we see Jeremiah before the ceremony, I’ll distract him with magic, and you grab Becca. Then don’t stop running, got it?”

  “Yeah, I got it.” Caleb flexed his hands by his sides. “What if we don’t?” Things hadn’t been working out as planned lately.

  “Then we improvise—” Darion stopped short.

  Caleb put a hand out to stop from running into to him. “What?”

  It was Grace. She lay motionless in a pile on the floor. Next to her was a man, unconscious or dead.

  Cold dread spread over Caleb’s body, as he rushed to her side. This couldn’t be happening. Not so soon. He’d just spoken to her less than an hour ago. She’d just kissed him.

  The reality of what they were doing hit him. As Mundanes, maybe this was all a suicide mission.

  “She’s not dead, yet,” Darion murmured as he looked over her body. He opened her mouth then checked her pulse.

  “Come on, Grace, wake up.” Caleb brushed the hair off her face. “Can’t you give her something…a remedy, a spell? Dammit, you’re a magician.”

  There was a slight pulse, weak but there. Her breath was slow.