Available Darkness Box Set | Books 1-3

by Platt, Sean

  “Twenty-five? Jesus, where did he get that many people? Are they Harbinger?” Mike asked.

  “I doubt it, unless Harbinger’s gone gangster,” Hopman said.

  Mike asked, “Gangster?”

  “Yeah, like street gangs,” Hopman said.

  What the hell is going on?

  Larry

  Larry woke in a pool of silver from the crescent moon above.

  His body was on fire. He was on his back, soaking wet, sprawled on the side of the road in a puddle of mud. He reached to his gut and came back with five sticky fingers covered in red.

  Abi!

  He craned his neck to look around; the car was gone. The bastards who pulled him over were in a cop car, but when they got out of the vehicle, he recognized their black uniforms from the motel raid. They’d grabbed Abi, and now they’d be going for John.

  He’d let John and Abi down. Again.

  “Fuck, I don’t wanna die like this.”

  Larry rolled to his side, adding more blood to the mud.

  He thought of the duffel bags he’d loaded in the car, some with emergency medical supplies. Always prepared was his motto. Now he was stuck on the roadside with a leak in his belly and Well, fuck me! for a plan.

  He felt in his pants pockets, praying his cell was there. It wasn’t.

  Fuck.

  He remembered the healing spell John had taught him just weeks ago. He wasn’t sure how powerful it was. John had said it was good for “minor injuries.”

  This one doesn’t seem minor.

  Larry closed his eyes, trying to recall the words. The spells were in the Otherworld’s magicians’ language — something he’d taken considerable efforts to learn. But now that he actually needed the spell, his mind was drawing a blank.

  Come on!

  His head swam. Maybe it would be easier to sleep ...

  No, you fat fucker, you fight this!

  He reached deep into his mind, remembering the night John had said the words. He could almost hear him in his memory.

  Larry coughed again, another thick glob in the stew.

  Then the words came. Four sentences, chanted four times.

  He began speaking, but by the time he reached the third line, Larry was chewing on a barbed wire cough. His ribs felt as if they’d been pierced by iron spikes. More blood gushed from his mouth, his mouth filling with an ugly metal taste. He closed his eyes, laying his head sideways on the ground, waiting for the coughing to stop.

  He started again. No interruptions, or the magick wouldn’t work. He barreled through the sentences, once, twice, and a third time before the wheezing began building again. He spoke anyway, muscling through the cough until every word had hit the cold night air.

  Nothing happened.

  He coughed again, more blood. Larry wanted to cry.

  Then he felt it.

  His hands started to vibrate, crackling with energy. He craned his neck to look at his palms, bathed in glowing green light. He reached up, running his palms over his gut as a cold fire spread through his body like someone holding ice over his wounds.

  Something fluttered under his skin. He coughed again, repeatedly, his guts retching what appeared to be damaged tissue. He stared at the asphalt spattered with his insides and noticed two dark objects swimming in the warm mess: bullets.

  Coughing subsided, replaced with a tundra in his throat.

  Then the glow was gone, along with the pain and cold.

  Larry reached down to feel his stomach, where the holes had been, and found nothing but an incredibly smooth, and rather impressive, belly.

  He laughed in the darkness, hopped to his feet, and started running in search of the nearest phone.

  He wondered why he hadn’t thought to try the healing spell on Abi, and with some amount of shame, if some part of him wanted her out of the way so John wouldn’t be compromised. If that were the case, he couldn’t admit it to himself. It was one thing to kill Adam, but another to allow the death of an innocent child.

  Whatever the case, Larry couldn’t let his guilt distract him. He needed to get back to John and find Abi — to prove himself and recover John’s trust.

  He also had to atone for another sin, one that no one else had seemed to notice. But he had.

  Given Abi’s wounds and that she’d been thrown back by the gunshot in the motel parking lot, the bullet that hit her had to have come from his gun. Yes, it was accidental, but that didn’t make him feel like any less of a shit.

  John

  Fifteen minutes later

  “You sure you wanna do this?” Tiny asked.

  “Are you?” John said.

  “Hell yeah!”

  John liked his gusto, even if they were stepping into suicide.

  “Remember,” John said, “nobody moves until I say so.”

  “Got it.”

  John met Tiny’s eyes. “Thank you, Tiny. I owe you.”

  John got out of the van and walked toward the compound.

  Larry

  Larry raced into the gas station, the first place he’d found on the road, and found a pimply faced long-haired guy in his twenties sitting on a plastic chair in a bulletproof glass booth.

  “You all right?” The cashier dropped his Guitar magazine.

  Larry leaned over, hands on his knees, raising a finger as he was catching his breath

  Fuck, I’m too fat.

  “I … need to … use your phone.”

  The guy pointed at the glass and then at the drawer that allowed him to collect money or pass a pack of cigarettes through it, but nothing larger. “Can’t, dude, but there’s a phone booth out there.” He pointed to a phone booth Larry couldn’t see beyond the store’s promotional poster-papered windows.

  “I promise, dude, I’m not gonna rob you. I’m … trying to save someone’s life. Can you give me some quarters?”

  “Oh shit. I forgot, the pay phone’s out of order.”

  “I’ll pay you to let me use your phone!”

  The cashier looked suspiciously at Larry.

  “Do I look like a robber? How many fat robbers do you know?”

  Larry realized he was soaking wet, filthy, and covered in blood.

  “Oh yeah. I was shot. Someone kidnapped the girl I was with. If I don’t make this call, she’ll die.”

  The cashier was frozen, swallowing slow and staring at Larry.

  “Please,” Larry said, too exhausted to try charming the guy. “She’s going to die.”

  The cashier reached over, opened the door, and let Larry into the booth. “There are video cameras,” he said.

  Larry reached into his pockets, pulled out a wad of wet bills, and put them on the counter, “This is yours, buddy. Thanks.”

  The cashier handed Larry the phone, and he dialed John’s cell.

  John

  John was just yards from the compound, which was surrounded by a huge iron gate. He could feel eyes on him: video, human, and Otherworlders’.

  His ringing phone was a scream.

  He reached into his pocket, expecting instructions from Abigail’s captor.

  “Gus’s Shell Station,” the screen read.

  “Hello?”

  “John! It’s Larry! They got Abi!”

  “I know. Jacob wants me to meet him. I’m going in.”

  “No, dude, you can’t. He’ll kill you.”

  “I’m done fighting, Larry. If Jacob wants to go home, let him. It isn’t worth the fight.”

  “Where’s Tiny?”

  “I told him to go back to the warehouse. Obviously, they were on to our trap. No point in seventy men dying.” John knew he was probably being listened to and hoped Larry would hear his subtle clue, the exaggerated number of men.

  “Just go home,” John said. “It’s over.”

  “What about Caleb? Jacob needs Caleb if he wants to open the portal. How are you going to get him there?”

  “I had Tiny call him and told him to come alone.”

  “What makes you
think he’ll come?” Larry asked.

  “Every lock has a key.”

  “Be careful,” Larry said after a long pause.

  “Always, Larry.” John hung up and walked through the compound’s opening gate.

  Larry

  Larry glanced at the kid. “Is that your red Hyundai?”

  The cashier, who’d been counting Larry’s money, glanced up uneasily. “Yeah, why?”

  “I’ve got another favor to ask,” Larry said with his very best smile.

  Sixty-Nine

  Caleb

  The Omega squad assumed position around the warehouse.

  Caleb’s phone rang.

  UNKNOWN NAME appeared on the caller ID.

  “Agent Baldwin,” he answered.

  A deep, urgent voice: “The man who killed your wife is at 3399 Westchester Avenue. Go alone. He’s expecting you and wants to talk. But if you bring anyone, he won’t tell you what really happened.”

  “Who is this?” Caleb asked, pulling away from Mike and the others.

  “Are you listening?” said the man on the other end.

  “Yes,” Caleb said, confused.

  “Listen carefully because I’m only going to say this once — Omnusob Ahtwhan Cognizi.”

  Something clicked inside Caleb. He dropped the phone and fell to the ground.

  Caleb awoke in the blue moonlit bedroom from his childhood. He was a child again in the dream, vaguely aware of his adult self and unsure if this were another buried memory or a dream of his making. Skeletal trees cast shadows like spiderwebs on his wall, swaying back and forth in the steadily rising wind. Raindrops pelted his window.

  There were no sounds of a drunken father downstairs. The world was a graveyard, save the storm outside.

  A light appeared under his door ― someone in the hall.

  Johnny?

  Caleb was about to climb out of bed when he noticed something flint black on his white sheet — a knife. A shiver ran down his spine. He picked it up and headed for his door.

  He stepped out of his room. Not into his hallway, but rather a seemingly endless corridor with hundreds of doors stretching into infinity. Lights above, as many as there were doors, flickered in unison, strobing the corridor as the boy followed intuition down the hall.

  One of the doors shook in its frame just paces ahead.

  Fear slithered through his guts, but the boy crept forward, emboldened by the blade, now humming, burning bright in his hand like some magical sword.

  He reached the door. Lights flickered then went dark. He paused, hand on the doorknob. The lights flickered back on.

  He wasn’t alone.

  His little brother, Johnny, stood beside him in blood-splattered PJs.

  “Don’t go in there,” Johnny warned of the room Caleb was about to enter.

  The lights flickered out again. Caleb felt something whip past him. He flinched, lashing out with the knife but striking nothing.

  The lights came on again, and now Johnny was a grown man.

  “Don’t go in there,” he warned.

  “You!” Caleb said, “You killed Julia!”

  The lights flickered on and off, the wind howling outside, chunks of God knows what repeatedly hitting the windows and roof. Something whipped past him in the darkness, scratching his arm. He lashed out with the knife, this time striking something solid. Caleb and victim fell sprawling to the ground, lost in the darkness. When the lights flickered on, Caleb was on top of his little brother, a child again, a pool of crimson soaking through the front of Johnny’s pajamas.

  “Don’t go in there!” Johnny gasped for air, blood bubbling from his mouth, the lights overhead holding their chaotic rhythm.

  “I have to.” Caleb stood and faced the door now rattling in its frame. He reached out, but the knob refused to turn.

  “Omnusob Ahtwhan Cognizi,” Caleb said, though he wasn’t sure where the words had come from or what they meant.

  The doorknob clicked.

  The lights died, and the world was cast into darkness.

  Caleb stepped into the room, which was nothing like the others in the house. No, this was a well-lit, fancy hotel room. One he’d been in before. The room went dark again, and someone screamed. A woman, her voice familiar.

  The scream grew louder in the dark, and another joined. The second voice, a man’s, drowned the woman’s cry. The man’s scream grew louder, almost animalistic. Caleb’s knees shook, his jaw chattering as the scream turned into a wailing, agonized cry.

  Then the world fell silent.

  Caleb stood frozen, vaguely making out the shapes in front of him where the hotel bed had been. A man spoke.

  “Julia?”

  Lights flickered on, and the boy saw the dead body on the bed, the murderer crying over his wife’s burned corpse.

  Caleb awoke, tears streaming down his face, agents surrounding him.

  “I remember,” he said.

  “What’s going on?” Mike asked, helping Caleb to his feet. “Remember what?”

  “Everything. Now give me your keys.”

  “What?” Mike asked.

  “Give me your keys. I know where John Sullivan is. I’m going alone.”

  “The hell you are,” Mike said, “I have specific instructions not to let you … ”

  Caleb pulled a gun on Mike. “Fuck your instructions, Mike. Give me the keys.”

  Seventy

  John And Caleb

  John

  John was greeted at the doorway by two gunmen in gear matching the motel goons, both barrels aimed straight at his forehead.

  “We need to search you,” said one of the men.

  “You’re not searching shit,” John barked, calling their bluffs and walking right by them.

  He sensed ten armed men in total. Six in the house and four outside, two in sniper positions on the roofs of the garage and guest house. He sensed three Others in the basement downstairs, two on the edge of monstrous. But he could not sense Abigail.

  Either she wasn’t there, or her signal was dampened.

  Two stairways wound to a second floor landing, where Jacob appeared like some macabre master of ceremonies.

  “Brother,” he said with a friendly wave. “So glad to see you! It’s been years.”

  “Where is she?”

  “I assure you the girl is in safe hands. For now. But as they say, the clock is ticking, and morning is on its way.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Let’s just say that if the sun rises before my portal opens, she’ll be ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”

  “You fuck!” John spit, ready to charge the stairs.

  One of the gunmen pushed his barrel into the back of John’s head.

  “We have a couple of hours,” Jacob said, “to get Caleb here.”

  “He should be on his way,” John said.

  “Really?” Jacob sounded genuinely surprised. “You always manage to surprise me, John.”

  “How do I know you’ll let Abigail go if I give you what you want? How do I know you won’t kill us all?”

  “If I wanted you dead, I could’ve done so a long time ago. You’re a lot easier to track than your brother. The Guardians must’ve really wiped him clean. Truth is, I have no interest in anything on Earth anymore. I only want to go home. Once I leave, you can all go about your wretched lives on this planet. Or hell, come with me. You’re free to do as you wish. As for my soldiers, they can come with me or return to their lives. Everyone is free to do as they please.”

  “You don’t even know what you’re going back to,” John said. “Why so eager?”

  Jacob descended the stairs. “I’ll be honest with you, Brother. I’ve grown weary of this world. I came here because I hated our mother for leaving me with Father, and for bringing you and Caleb here. I wanted to make her pay. To make you all pay.”

  John said nothing.

  “What kind of mother leaves her son behind?”

  “She said you were infected. S
he wanted to create new lives for us, ones where we weren’t hunted like monsters.”

  “She fucking gave up on me!” Jacob spit. “You don’t give up on your children!”

  “You’re right,” John said. “I’m sorry.”

  Jacob stood directly in front of John, staring into his eyes.

  “You know what? I actually believe you.”

  “She shouldn’t have left you. She should’ve taken us all, but I think she was afraid you’d infect us.”

  Jacob laughed. “And yet you were already infected. Irony can be so cruel. Tell me, how is it that Caleb has not been infected?”

  “He was, briefly. But the Guardians were able to help him.”

  “Not you, though, eh?”

  John shook his head. “No.”

  “We’re a lot more alike than I would’ve thought,” Jacob said. “Guards, stand down. I don’t think he’s going to try anything. Right, John?”

  “No, I just want this over — and Abigail back.”

  “You’ll have her back once Caleb helps me get home. He will help me, right?”

  “I hope so,” John said.

  Caleb

  Caleb arrived, greeted by two gunmen in black paramilitary gear and assault weapons.

  “I was told to come here. My name is Caleb Baldwin.”

  The men asked him to step out of his vehicle and patted him down. They found his gun in its holster and took it. He prayed they wouldn’t find the knife, which he’d taped to the underside of his belt. Content with the gun, they ushered him inside.

  John

  “Ah, the guest of honor,” Jacob called out to Caleb’s arrival.

  John looked at his brother, saw recognition in his eyes. His memory was back. How long, John wondered, until The Darkness returned as well? Caleb looked like a man whose world had been pulled out from under him. John wasn’t sure what drove his brother but hoped he’d play along until John could dispose of Jacob and ensure Abigail’s safety.