Darkstone

by D. Jordan Redhawk

  “Wait!” Joram stared. Her free hand found her chest. “I’m your imaginary friend?”

  “I recognized your voice, both speaking and singing. It hasn’t changed much since you were a child—maybe gotten a little deeper and rougher, but it’s the same.”

  “That’s impossible.” Joram shook her head in adamant denial. “The whole point of imaginary friends is that they’re in your head, not real. Besides, wouldn’t I know? Wouldn’t I have some memory of this?”

  “I don’t know if you’d be aware of it, but you are real. Not imaginary, thank God.” Naomi laughed at the exasperated look she received.

  “You know what I mean.”

  Naomi sobered. “I know it sounds insane. Not for an instant did I believe I’d ever hear your voice again.” She interrupted herself for a moment. “Though you told me many times at the monastery that I’d hear you again. Huh.” Joram made a noise in her throat, drawing her back to the present. “The story gets crazier, though. Are you ready?”

  “Crazier than being appointed as a former imaginary friend? Bring it on, mi empress.”

  Joram’s easy acceptance of her words bolstered her waning determination. “My training was for a purpose. My destiny is to stop someone from opening a door between dimensions.” She internally winced, having the fresh experience of explaining her goals to a nonbeliever once already today. Despite Anders’s appearance at the apartment, she knew Rebecca was still giving her the benefit of the doubt.

  Joram’s face drained of color. “What?”

  Naomi frowned. Was Joram’s response because she’d come to the conclusion that Naomi was insane? “Someone will attempt to open a dimensional door, one that will release magic into the world. I’ve been trained to stop it from happening by any means necessary.”

  Joram swallowed hard. She pulled sharply away from Naomi’s touch, crossing her arms over her chest, but remained on the couch.

  Horror dribbled through Naomi’s heart as she evaluated Joram’s body language. Closed off, defensive, wan with shock. “You know.”

  Joram visibly gathered herself. “The question is how do you know? Who are you?”

  Naomi turned sideways, propping an elbow on the back of the couch. “You know who I am. I’m Naomi Kostopoulos, a foreign college student studying religious anthropology in the United States.” Though her words weren’t a lie, she hated the guilt nibbling at her insides. She was much more than a simple college student and they both now knew it. “I’m also the one person trained to stop this disaster from happening.” She stared intently at Joram, willing her to understand. “Opening that door will destroy the world.”

  “That’s not what I’ve heard.”

  Naomi arched an eyebrow as she ignored the hollowness in her chest. “Really? And who told you otherwise? Anders?” Joram flushed, indicating Naomi’s point had hit home. I’m not here to antagonize her. I need to persuade her there’s another way.

  “How are you supposed to stop this from happening?”

  Tears stung her eyes, and Naomi’s voice dropped into a whisper. “It’s assumed I’ll have to…to kill the person responsible.”

  Bleak eyes bore into Naomi’s. “And if I’m that person?”

  Naomi swallowed against the lump in her throat. “Are you?”

  “I am, mi empress. I’m the Harbinger of Invocation and tomorrow I have no choice but to open that door.”

  And there it was, the truth baldly stated between them, unretractable and resolute. Naomi fought with her tears, gaining a modicum of control. “You’re wrong, you know.” Joram’s brow furrowed. “You do have a choice. You were Chosen, weren’t you? Just like I was?”

  A glimmer of surprise flickered in Joram’s gaze. “Yah mon. When I was four.” Her lip curled. “I sold out at fourteen and haven’t looked back.”

  Naomi sniffled, smiling. “We’ve both spent our lives being manipulated by forces beyond our control but I’ve recently had an epiphany.” She wiped tears from her cheeks. “We still have choice, free will, whatever you want to call it. None of this can happen if we don’t choose to take the actions we’ve been commanded to take.” Naomi pried Joram’s hand away from her bicep, entwining their fingers together. “You can choose not to complete the final ritual and I can choose not to hurt you. I love you, Joram. I’ve had trouble reconciling my future actions in my heart for years, and now I know that I absolutely don’t have the strength to do what I’m supposed to do.”

  Joram stared, the returning color in her skin fading once more. “You…love me?” Naomi’s nod didn’t ease her shock. “But how can you love me? We hardly know each other.” She scoffed, failing to break Naomi’s grip on her hand. “Rhaatid! We’ve only gone out on two dates!”

  Clamping down on their joined hands and shaking them, Naomi said, “Didn’t you hear me? I’ve known you since I was thirteen. I fell in love with you then.” She chuckled at Joram’s dismay. “You haven’t changed all that much, sweetness. Trust me.”

  Seemingly at a loss, Joram dropped her gaze to their joined hands. She actively held Naomi’s hand for the first time since Naomi’s arrival. A myriad of emotions wavered across her face—hope, regret, doubt and resignation. Despite the pressure of eventual discovery, Naomi kept quiet, letting Joram work through all that she’d said. At the monastery, Joram had gone silent in thought many times during their discussions. This was no different.

  “Are you sure this will destroy the world?”

  Not expecting the turn of conversation, Naomi scrambled to follow. “So I’ve been told. The fey folk aren’t the friendliest of people. They held absolute power over our people for a very long time. When that door is opened they’ll have free access to our world once again. It’s not just bringing magic into the world, it’s bringing them into it as well.”

  “So you’ve been told,” Joram repeated. “What I’ve been told is that closing the door was the greatest mistake ever made, that had it remained open mankind would have eventually thrown off the yoke of slavery and come into its own anyway, and we would be the stronger for surviving the struggle.” She looked at Naomi, a starkness in her green eyes. “Instead, we fragmented without a common enemy to bind us together. We’re destroying each other.”

  Naomi gave a slow nod of concession, remembering the man who had visited her that morning. Though the point of view was valid, she couldn’t credit Anders’s honesty. He seemed to enjoy playing with words. “I won’t argue that it’s not possible. Rebecca has suggested that the open door was in its natural state and the closing of it perverted the world.”

  “Rebecca knows too?”

  Smiling at Joram’s brief daze, she nodded. “I explained everything to her this morning.” She sobered, shivering. “She was there when Anders came by.”

  Joram growled. “I’ve got a few words for him, beginning with ‘fuck you’ and ending with ‘asshole.’”

  Delighted, Naomi leaned forward. “So you won’t do it? You won’t complete his ritual?” Her happiness faded at Joram’s resolute expression.

  “I don’t have a choice.”

  “But you do have a choice! That’s what I’m telling you. They need us to willingly act or none of it works. That’s why they emphasize the word.” She released Joram’s hand, crooking her fingers to indicate quotation marks. “Chosen Ones.” Again she captured Joram’s hand, pulling it into her lap. “We don’t have to do it. If you don’t open the door, I have no task to complete.”

  “You don’t have to do it,” Joram said. “But I do.”

  Naomi watched Joram stand and walk away, a gaping hole opening in her chest. Blackness seemed to flicker at the edges of her vision and she couldn’t seem to catch her breath. “But…why?”

  Joram stopped at the table, pushing through the vegetables on the tray. “Because I promised him I’d do it. He finally told me what was going on last night, and I promised I’d complete his stupid Invocation on the condition that he’d cut me loose forever.”

  “Then break you
r promise.” Naomi’s voice cracked and she clamped her mouth shut.

  A harsh laugh escaped Joram’s lips. “No, I don’t break promises. Others do, but not me. They promise and smile and then hurt you. I’m better than that.”

  The odd reference confounded Naomi, but she let the strangeness pass. She had no doubt that being raised by Anders had done a lot of damage to Joram’s psyche, just as it had apparently done to Chloe. “You are better than that but you can’t open that door.”

  Joram straightened, drawing in a deep breath. “Yes, I can. And I will. Tomorrow night at the third encore it’ll be done.” She gazed at Naomi, defiant. “And then I’ll never have to put up with Obeah Man again. He can take his damned piccolo and stuff it up his ass.”

  “Joram—”

  “No!” Joram held up her hand. “You say you love me. Well, this is me! I don’t break promises even to save my life. I swore I’d do this and I’m going to do it. Ah sun it set.” They stared at each other.

  A sharp knock at the door caused Naomi to jump. The doorknob rattled. “Joram?” Chloe asked. “Are you ready? Everybody’s waiting.”

  “I’ll be right out,” Joram called.

  “Okay.”

  “Don’t tell her I’m here,” Naomi whispered.

  Joram frowned. “Why not? You said she’s the reason you’re backstage.”

  “Well…I might have exaggerated that a bit.” At Joram’s raised eyebrow, Naomi explained about being held in another room by security and what she’d done to evade them. Joram swore while Naomi patted the air in a calming gesture. “She only did it to protect you. She said Anders would kill me if he knew I was here, and you would be devastated.”

  After a long, studied moment, Joram agreed. “She’s right. He would and I would be.”

  Heartened by the admission, Naomi closed the distance between them, easily slipping into Joram’s arms. She reveled in the embrace, drawing a brief moment of needed comfort from their intimacy. Though Joram hadn’t echoed Naomi’s professions of love, Chloe had stated she suspected Joram of loving her. Naomi had to take it on faith, something with which she had long experience. “Search your heart. Why should you believe anything he says after the way he’s treated you all these years?” Naomi pulled back to study Joram’s face. “Why does he deserve such loyalty?”

  Joram looked away. “I have to go.”

  “I know.” Unable to let the subject go, Naomi released her. “Make the right choice, I’m begging you.”

  Not meeting her eyes, Joram paused to check her reflection in the mirror. “You stay here for a few minutes before leaving. Anders is probably in with the rest of the band. He’ll be distracted and you can get out of here.” Her gaze was sharp and worried. “Don’t let him catch you.”

  “I won’t.”

  She nodded and went to the door. Unlocking it, she peeked outside before looking back. “I can’t tell you I’ll break my promise but I will think about what you’ve said.”

  Naomi took the peace offering for what it was. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll get you back on the VIP guest list for tomorrow. I want you to be here. Even if—” She faltered and swallowed, self-consciously scanning the room. “I love you too, you know.”

  Despite the grimness of the situation, Naomi felt a brilliant smile break across her face. “I know.”

  Still discomforted, Joram cleared her throat and left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

  Naomi collapsed onto the chair at the table. Oh, God! She’s going to go through with it. What am I going to do now?

  * * *

  Joram wasn’t surprised to see Chloe waiting outside her door. Her friend didn’t act any different, linking their arms in companionable silence. Had she really confined Naomi? “Is Anders there?”

  “Yes. The fans are falling all over themselves.” Her tone was carefully neutral, a sure indication of her dislike of the situation.

  Unable to blame her, Joram didn’t care for Anders’s sudden appearance on the scene. The band had done most of the work, they should receive the accolades. His presence here grated against her nerves—she could imagine how the others felt. Shaking her head, Joram gave Chloe a sidelong look. “I know about Naomi.”

  Chloe’s expression stiffened. “What?”

  “She escaped.” Joram patted Chloe’s suddenly tight grip on her forearm. “Don’t worry. I understand why you did it.”

  “I’m only protecting you.”

  “I know. You always have, right from our first meeting.” Joram patted her hand again. “Take a minute, get yourself back together. You know he smells anything the slightest bit off.”

  Chloe took a bracing breath, tossing her hair as she threw off her anxiety. She’d always been a master at hiding behind her mask, enough so that sometimes Joram wondered what had happened to cause her to build such a thick-skinned facade. “I’m ready.”

  “Let’s do it.” Smiling, she led the way toward the noise of people talking and laughing two doors down.

  Ivan greeted her just inside the door with a beer and an uncertain smile. Joram took the drink without returning the warm greeting, leaving him to stew. She hadn’t said two words to him since he’d indicated he’d been in close communication with Anders over the ballad. Her absence from regular rehearsal had also helped to make him uneasy in her presence. She regretted that she couldn’t fire him on the spot—but Anders took care of personnel, no one else. Besides it wouldn’t matter if she dumped him. There were probably a half dozen others reporting her activities to Anders. Killing one cockroach didn’t mean she’d gotten them all.

  Anders held court in a corner of the room, surrounded by a number of sycophants bearing backstage passes. Some of the attendees were roadies or music technicians but most were audience members. They fawned over him, ignoring the band members standing nearby, and he accepted their attentions with broad, magnanimous gestures and a wide smile. He wore a black leather jacket and jeans, looking enough like an aging rock star with his shaggy hair and beard that Joram wondered why he wasn’t doing his own dirty work as the lead singer of a band.

  There’s a question. Why can’t he do this himself? He knows what to do with the songs, how to build the ritual itself. Why did he need to find someone else to do it for him?

  He spied her as she neared, interrupting someone speaking to hold an arm out in her direction. “And here she is, the woman of the hour!” Everyone in the room turned toward Joram and followed his lead, applauding as she approached with Chloe on her arm.

  The urge to smash his exultant smile into pulp was compelling. He’d hunted Naomi down and threatened her in her own apartment. He’d interfered with Joram’s ability to contact Naomi, knowing his hindrance would cause her pain. But when has he ever cared whether or not he’s caused me pain?

  Rather than allow her visceral desires to have their head, she bared her teeth in a wolfish smile, calling upon decades of experience as she swaggered into his circle. Chloe released her, stepping back as Anders took her place at Joram’s side, throwing an arm around her shoulders. Repressing the familiar disgust at his touch, Joram made nice with the fans.

  An hour or more of banal conversation passed. For the majority of it, Joram was ignored in favor of Anders’s sheer magnetism. Long exposure had lent Joram a level of immunity to his charm. She watched with well-hidden aversion as the crowd fawned over him. He accepted laurels for the band with poise, insinuating they’d never have gotten as far without his help. Though true, his words did little to endear himself to the rest of Invocation. Joram watched them silently fume, moderately pleased at their mutual feelings. Her anger at her bandmates’ lack of support last night had faded from memory at Anders’s revelations, but here was a reminder to her that their rejection had been based in fear, fear of what Anders would do if disobeyed.

  Anders had never deigned to be present during their shows or the meet and greets. She had to wonder why he’d chosen to today. Was it because he was so close to seeing
his goals realized or was he truly worried about Naomi’s influence over Joram? As she flattered her extended audience she gauged his overbearing presence, noting nothing untoward. Must be excitement. No reason for him to think I’d defy him. I’ve never really done it before.

  Lack of sleep and the shock of Naomi’s revelations eventually overcame Joram’s concert rush. She’d been up for thirty plus hours and it was beginning to take a toll. With many apologies, she extricated herself from Anders’s toadies, picking up Chloe on her way to the door. The rest of the band coalesced around her. There’d been no time to talk before tonight’s gig and they were ill at ease with Anders so close.

  Rand studied Joram. “You don’t look that good.”

  Jarod snorted. “Ever the diplomat.”

  “Fuck you,” Rand said with little heat. “Just calling it like I see it.”

  Heartened that her friends were making an attempt to connect with her despite last night’s disagreement, Joram smiled. “Anders had me out all night. I haven’t had any sleep.”

  Bayani nodded. “We missed you today.”

  Joram avoided his eyes. “I had a lot to think about.”

  Bayani’s eyes flickered to Anders and his crowd of new friends. “No doubt.”

  Affection filled Joram as she looked over her bandmates, her friends for the last dozen years. Though hesitant to resist Anders, they nevertheless wanted to support her as best they could. Their friendship, especially Chloe’s and Jubal’s, had made life livable, had given Joram the opportunity to forget where she’d come from and the Choices she’d made in her life.

  They can’t help me now.

  “Here he comes,” Jubal murmured.

  Joram braced herself as she glanced over to see Ivan and Anders heading toward them. “I’ve got it. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

  The others took their cue and drifted back to their places around the room, making themselves available to their fans though few took up the opportunity.