Dark Rising Trilogy

by DeAnna Browne

  Darion’s blank face was void of any response. Caleb wanted to shake him, wanted to make him feel for this girl next to him dying.

  “I’m not that kind of magician. And I’m not sure there is one who can help. But she wouldn’t want her body here, dead or alive.”

  Caleb’s fist tightened. How dare Darion write her off so easily? Just another dead Mundane to him.

  Darion checked the man behind him. “He’s gone.”

  “Is that him?” Caleb asked. If he was Jaqar, the man who did this to Grace, he wanted to revive him just to kill him again. If only Grace would have let him help in the first place.

  “Yes. I need to get rid of his body.” Darion stood and put a hand on the door next to him. After a moment, he opened the door and pulled the man into the room.

  “We need to get her out of here,” Caleb said, pulling Grace up in his arms.

  Her eyes fluttered open. “Hey, muscles.”

  His heart raced with joy. “Hey.”

  Her skin paled against her lips that were tinged blue. “Did I get him?”

  “Yeah. He’s dead.” Caleb forced a smile on his face to hide what was really happening. “Why didn’t you let me help?”

  She closed her eyes for a moment and swallowed. “My demon to kill. No one else could have.”

  “You brave, stupid, wonderful Grace.” He pulled her into his chest, kissing the top of her head. This small girl who could barely weigh a hundred pounds just took out one of the deadliest magicians in the city.

  She closed her eyes. Her breath came out in short gasps.

  “No, Grace. Stay awake. Stay with me.” He rubbed her bare arm, trying to give her warmth and life. “We need to get her out of here. Now,” he hollered to Darion inside the room.

  Darion returned, a couple girls at his side.

  “Here,” Darion put some money into their hands. “Take the service stairs straight down. Good Luck”

  “Who are they?”

  “What Grace used to be? Servants of Jaq. I figured Grace would have wanted them saved as well.”

  The girls quickly left down the hall. This is what Grace did. Saved these girls. He wished she could have seen it. “How’s she doing?” Darion asked kneeling next to them.

  “Not good. She needs help.”

  Darion put his hand on her chest. “I can’t do anything. I’m not a healer. But it shouldn’t be long.”

  “Long?” The realization of her death slowly sank in. He prayed to whatever or whoever was listening. But it went unanswered. Grace’s labored breathing eventually stopped.

  “I’m sorry, Caleb,” Darion said.

  Caleb placed her on the floor and prepared to give her CPR, anything to keep her here. He didn’t want sorry, he wanted her alive and well.

  Darion stopped his hand. “Anything you do will just prolong the pain. There is no antidote. She knew that.”

  “How can you be so casual?” Caleb wanted to throttle him. Make him feel something for this girl that had been through so much.

  “This isn’t the first casualty and probably won’t be the last.” Darion’s face hardened. “If there’s any way of saving Becca or her sister, we have to move. And Grace wouldn’t want her body used after death.”

  Caleb wiped away the tears on his cheeks. Not because he was embarrassed. Grace was beautiful inside and out. He would mourn her death. But this wasn’t over. He needed to focus on the task at hand. He would make these magicians pay.

  Darion handed him a couple of knives. “I found them in the room.”

  They were light, for throwing. Caleb sheathed the knives and then picked Grace up in his arms.

  “You’ll need to take the servant’s back entrance. If they ask, tell them you’re taking the body out to the cooler for Jaqar. Then go to the garage and secure a vehicle.”

  “What about Becca? The meeting is starting soon. She’ll be there. I’ll come back up. You’ll need my help.” Caleb wasn’t about to leave knowing Rebecca and her sister were still here.

  “You’re a Mundane. You won’t be allowed in the room, unless you’re a sacrifice.”

  “And Rebecca’s there.” He felt almost hallow, as if death was mocking him, taking away everyone he cared for.

  He couldn’t sit in a car, waiting for Rebecca to be killed. Darion didn’t know him very well if he thought he’d agree to that.

  “Just find us a way to get us out of here, okay?” Darion asked. “Trust me. I won’t be leaving this place without her.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Becca’s mind pounded with magic. A fog of confusion layered her reality. A loud door shut somewhere in the distance. She was sitting in a cold dark room. The daze slowly lifted as Becca took in her new surroundings.

  The night sky darkened the long windows while several candles littered the floor and walls. It was a large room, mostly empty. The bare brick walls and concrete floors seemed to echo a past filled with hellish ceremonies Becca didn’t want to imagine. She was in the center of a deathly assembly hall.

  On the floor, she found herself trapped in the very circle she just learned how to create, a demon’s pentagon. Too bad her lessons with Darion never covered how to escape one. As she reached out, magic sizzled against her skin like an electric brick wall, lighting her nerves on fire.

  She slowly stood and turned around. She wasn’t alone. A gangling teenage boy sat in another pentagram and, in a third one, Elizabeth still wore the red dress.

  Becca screamed for her sister and reached out. She ignored the pain burning up her arms. Elizabeth was slow to respond, looking around, confused, as if she couldn’t figure out who was speaking.

  “Cut it out,” a guard said. “No one can hear you. And we’ll have to sedate you, before you can hurt yourself.” Two of them stood by large wood doors.

  The pentagram surrounding her was a complex barrier. She could hear them, but they couldn’t hear her, convenient when trapping people against their will. On second look, the taller one had the pitch black eyes of a Soultorn.

  Becca pressed the tight spot between her brows to relieve the tension. She needed to think, to figure a way out of this.

  She couldn’t help but test the circle again, this time, though, with one of the protective spells Darion had taught her. She inched her foot forward only to jerk it back at the pain that traveled up her leg. She stifled a cry.

  The human guard laughed at her attempt. She swore at the guards, before remembering they couldn’t hear her. She noticed Elizabeth staring at her.

  “Elizabeth,” Becca said, facing her sister. Would she even recognize Becca now? “Elizabeth, please.”

  Becca sat down in the circle, reviewing every spell, even throwing some toward the guards. But they didn’t flinch. Nothing could leave the pentagram. It was how magicians were protected from the demons they summoned.

  ‘Rebecca?’ The word rang out in her mind, as clear as if Elizabeth has said it aloud.

  “Elizabeth.” Becca spoke the word aloud, but her sister didn’t respond. She tried only thinking the word instead. ‘Elizabeth.’

  Her sister’s eyes lit up in recognition.

  How was this possible? How could they talk, not only through the pentagram but in each other’s mind? Was it one of the spells Darion taught Becca? Or maybe a sister thing?

  She didn’t know or care how, she was just grateful that she could.

  ‘Is this a dream?’ Elizabeth’s voice sounded again inside Becca’s mind.

  ‘Sorry, but no.’ Becca shook her head. ‘Do you have the dreams, too?’ Maybe this connection between them was stronger than she knew. It was bitter sweet, finally talking to her sister, before they were both put up to slaughter.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Elizabeth rubbed her hands together, folding and refolding them in her lap. ‘I thought you were dead.’

  ‘I thought you were dead, too, for a bit.’ Becca didn’t know how to warn or prepare her sister for what was to come next. ‘But the night’s not over.’<
br />
  ‘The fact we’re both sitting inside pentagrams doesn’t look too good,’ Elizabeth said in earnest.

  Becca chuckled slightly. She could only laugh or cry at this point.

  Without notice, the large doors slowly opened, creaking against the hinges. Magicians filed into the room, each one with a grace and reverence that unnerved her. Several had Soultorns trailing behind them, their dark eyes a portal to hell.

  ‘We’ll figure something out,’ Becca told her sister, wishing she believed it.

  Jeremiah entered with an entourage of two younger magicians and a Soultorn trailing behind. With his head high and chest puffed out, he looked like a buffoon as he took a place close to Elizabeth’s pentagram. Becca couldn’t stand to watch him.

  Scanning the room, her breath caught as she found Darion. There were a million questions she needed to ask him since their kidnapping. She tried speaking to him, in the off chance, this new mental telepathy worked on him. It didn’t.

  He avoided her gaze and spoke quietly to a beautiful redheaded young woman at his side.

  A trickle of fear stabbed at Becca. When Darion talked of his plan, he said he was going to turn himself in. He never mentioned being attacked at the cabin or turning Becca over to Jeremiah.

  Darion stood relatively free now, and she couldn’t help but wonder if this was part of the plan? She glared at him. Why wouldn’t he even look at her? Maybe he realized what side he needed to be on to stay alive.

  Calm down. She ignored the pain in her chest, and focused on getting Elizabeth out alive. She needed to think.

  Silenced filled the room and every head turned as a black robed figure emerged. Though never having seen his face, Becca knew it had to be Ryma—the coven leader. His scarred head and grisly face looked as if he earned his position the hard way.

  He projected some kind of energy. She could almost feel his magic like an electrical current. He reached the front of the room, and his two Soultorns stood behind him, reverently.

  She stepped back, instinctively, her body telling her to run.

  ‘This is bad.’ Elizabeth’s voice echoed in Becca’s mind. Elizabeth was on her feet and, like Becca, as far as she could get from Ryma.

  ‘We’re not gone yet,’ Becca reminded her. ‘We fight to the end, okay?’

  The sisters shared a quick glance. Tears swam in Elizabeth’s eyes, but she straightened her back. ‘Okay.’

  Becca wasn’t sure if it was the candles or maybe incense, but the strong warm smell reminded her of death, of rotting flesh, of the hell from which they called these demons.

  Ryma bent his head and so did the rest of the room, respectfully. Then he began chanting in another language which sounded like a prayer or some kind of rite. Yet it didn’t have the feel of the religion her mother taught her. It was cold and vile, but taken as serious in every other respect.

  Ryma lifted a hand to silence the crowd. “We will have the pleasure of creating three Soultorns tonight, calling on the demons of the highest levels. Then following, Darion will be giving his blood pledge tonight.”

  Several heads turned to Darion in surprise.

  Ryma raised a wide goblet high in the air. “He will be bound to me and to the coven.”

  “To the Coven,” the magicians replied in unison.

  This has to be a joke. A fake. Darion can’t pledge to this man.

  She knew he planned on it, but he couldn’t follow through. At Ryma’s command, Darion moved to stand behind Ryma just like another puppet. Another magician at Ryma’s beckoning call. Rage seeped into her body, taunt and ready to strike.

  “Farina.” Ryma called a beautiful witch with porcelain skin and thick red lips forward. Hand in hand the two magicians moved toward the pentagram that held the young man.

  They had to be combining magic, like Darion and Becca had done. But not quite the same. Darion said magicians put up guards, protected themselves so the other magician couldn’t take them over. Only a child would ever trust someone like that and not guard themselves.

  And me.

  Her blind trust in Darion tore at her. How could she have let him hurt her again?

  Ryma spoke a few words, and the young man stuck his hand through the pentagram. The rest of his body remained stiff like a soldier at attention. Ryma sliced effortlessly across the boy’s palm and dark blood dripped into the glass goblet.

  The witch cut herself next. Her crimson blood dripped into the glass. Ryma gently twirled the liquid like a fine wine. The witch quickly dealt with her wound. The stunned boy dropped his hand to his side where it continued to drip blood onto the cement floor.

  Ryma spoke over the cup then handed each of them a turn to drink from the goblet. He continued the summons, calling a demon that hovered in the air.

  Becca couldn’t watch. She focused on the silent drops of blood that slid down the boy’s fingers and fell to the floor.

  Drop by drop, the crimson beads pooled on the floor.

  It was the blood that tied them together, Becca remembered. That was why her connection with the fox was so weak. She had not shared blood with the animal, since Darion had worried the animal may not be clean.

  Blood. The one thing I share with Elizabeth. Becca rubbed the scar on her hand from that summer day they became blood sisters. That was how she was communicating with her sister. It had to be. Could they do more?

  Elizabeth’s blood ran inside her veins. That had to be something.

  ‘Elizabeth,’ Becca called to her sister.

  ‘Am I next?’ Elizabeth’s voice trembled with fear.

  ‘Elizabeth. We need to focus. We have to get out of this.’ Becca wondered if Elizabeth had magic like she did. There had to be a reason Elizabeth had a tattoo. If only they could combine their magic like Becca did with Darion? Becca didn’t know the spell, but she had to try something.

  ‘What are we going to do?’ her sister asked.

  ‘I’m not sure yet. But we have a bond and combined strength. We’ll figure out something.’ Becca forced her voice to have more confidence than she felt.

  Ryma finished the ritual, and the small boy now stood with pitch black eyes. A faithful servant. Becca tried to ignore the sickness creeping up her throat as the boy took his place with the other Soultorn.

  A smug satisfaction crept into Jeremiah’s face as he relished her dismay. Darion stayed neutral, not even an ounce of disgust. How could he stand it? How would he look as they turned Becca into a Soultorn?

  “Jeremiah.” Ryma called him forward. A servant handed Ryma a new glass goblet and together they started toward Elizabeth.

  No! Not Elizabeth first.

  Becca had counted on being first, on utilizing their combined power to attack. She couldn’t do anything if they opened Elizabeth’s pentagram first.

  Becca began shouting spells to her sister, over and over. ‘Just say it. Project. Use my power.’ The same cues that Darion had taught her days ago.

  Frantic, Elizabeth tried to repeat the words. But Becca couldn’t feel any power leaving. It wasn’t working.

  When Jeremiah opened the pentagram, Elizabeth froze, her body stiff and eyes glazed over as before. Ryma took her arm.

  Becca continued talking to her sister. ‘Listen. Try to gather that humming power inside of you. Try it. Please.’ Becca pleaded, but there was no response. Not anymore. Becca spoke the words over and over, in vain.

  Jeremiah cut Elizabeth’s hand then proceeded with his, collecting the blood in a goblet. Ryma began the incantation.

  Becca screamed. It bounced inside her pentagram, no one else hearing the pain and heartache.

  Without warning, something exploded outside the room. The candles flickered briefly. Murmurs broke out among the wizards—possible spells of protection.

  Ryma paused the incantation and, with a flick of his hand, Darion rose off the ground. He writhed in pain, but he didn’t make a sound. The other magicians backed away from him.

  “You really think you had a chance against
me. You’re a child,” Ryma said, almost amused. He threw Darion against the wall, where he stayed, held a foot off the ground. “I will deal with you after I’m finished here.”

  He’d tried. Darion tried to save her sister, but it wasn’t enough. Becca’s heart sank. Smoke lingered in the air, but Darion didn’t move, his muscles straining.

  She never should have doubted him. He had always been at her side. She was grateful for his sacrifice, but wasn’t sure it was worth it. Now his neck was on the chopping block too. She pounded against the portal, using every curse she could think of.

  Jeremiah continued the ceremony. Becca ignored his words and kept repeating the basic spell. It couldn’t end like this.

  In a blink, a demon larger than life filled the room. It had numerous heads. One, almost human like, held a crown.

  Its legs or arms—she couldn’t make out the difference— were huge pincers. The demon roared. The voice pierced her to the depths of her soul. A few other wizards winced in pain.

  Jeremiah stood proud, a touch of blood in the corner of his mouth. “Bael, by the power of the coven, I command you to enter the vessel I place before you.”

  Ryma placed a hand on Jeremiah’s shoulder, she assumed, to combine their magic. He finished the spell in another language.

  In a mere blink, the demon was gone.

  Becca’s scream raked her body, a pain she couldn’t describe. Her sister, beautiful Elizabeth, had lost those innocent sky blue eyes. In their place, a monster stared out, showing the depth of hell itself.

  Becca felt as if her whole body was going to tear in two as Elizabeth or the demon Bael stepped outside the pentagram. A voice cut through her cries, strong and deep.

  A deep chuckled sounded in her mind. Becca spun around, wondering where it was coming from. No one else seemed to hear. ‘What do we have here? Ties to multiple magicians?’

  Jeremiah and Ryma faced the group of magicians and spoke of strengthening old alliances. It sounded like Ryma was even giving Jeremiah his own city. The surprised crowd focused on the pair, ignoring Becca completely, which was for the best

  ‘Who is this?’ Becca asked as she turned around in the pentagram. A sinking feeling in her gut told her she had a clue.