The Dawn of Darkness: A Paranormal Romance

by K. E. Radke

  The grim reaper had come for her, and she was finally ready for its embrace.

  I gasped at the brutality, and she turned her gaze on me. Drowned me in those inky eyes.

  Light punctured the darkness like a beacon of hope. A pinch of illumination slicing through the pitch-black web encasing her.

  She dropped to the ground. Her legs too flimsy to land on her feet. No ragged breathing. No shroud of smoke. Nothing slithering around, using the dark sky for cover. Not a sound until Rowan stabbed her through the chest with a stick.

  I expected her to die. Blood to bubble from her lips as she fell to the pavement. But she stared at her chest and then swung her arm, hitting Rowan. He flew across the alley and smashed into the wall, crumpling to the ground.

  She came right at me.

  And Gabriel intervened.

  That can’t be a coincidence.

  Twice, he’s saved me.

  “Mija? What are you doing in the dark?” My father is standing outside my car, peering at me through the window with a perplexed expression. When did he leave the house? There’s a scream stuck in my throat that won’t come out. He’s immediately concerned after I startle in my seat and shield my face with my hands. “What’s wrong?” He opens the car door for me.

  “I think I need that beer you promised me,” I whisper, unable to look him in the eye.

  He places a hand on my forehead. “Mija, you’re pale. Maybe you should come inside and relax. Your mother made albondigas soup.”

  My hand clasps around his wrist to stop him from leaving me by myself in the dark. Each breath feels more restricted than the last. “Please.” It’s a wisp of noise, frantic and terrified.

  Placing his hand on top of mine, he gazes into my eyes, searching them for an answer. “Let me tell your mother we’re leaving.” I slam the door shut, and he hurries back to the house, glancing back at me several times.

  It takes all the control I have not to scream a warning. You’re not safe. Not at night. Creatures are lurking. Waiting for their chance.

  I want to protect him.

  But I can’t get out of the car.

  My mother is watching him from the doorway when he comes back out. She holding the pendant around her neck, probably saying a prayer. He comes to the driver’s side door and I’m ready to argue that I need that drink he promised. I’m not going inside.

  “Scoot over. I’m driving,” he says in a hushed tone. His gaze flickers to my mother. I climb into the front seat without getting out of the car.

  We stop in front of a bar he frequents regularly. One that puts up with all his rants about his favorite soccer teams. Every once in a while I’ll get a call to pick him up. I do my best not to cling to him in the parking lot, but I step on his foot twice and almost push him down trying to get inside the building.

  Juan-Carlos, the bartender, looks up from popping the tops off two beers. He nods to my dad and raises an eyebrow at me but says nothing.

  “Dos, por favor,” my dad says and taps the bar twice with his knuckles. Juan-Carlos puts a dish of lemons and beer salt in front of us. Two beers appear and my dad slides one over to me.

  We both grab a lemon and squeeze it into the bottle. I wait my turn for the beer salt. My dad raises his beer to mine. “To a hard day.”

  The men across the way also raise their glasses.

  My hands are wrapped around mine, but I don’t drink it. “Do you believe in ghosts?” I ask lowly, staring at the counter.

  I glance at him sideways, and there’s a grin on his face that quickly disappears when he realizes I’m serious.

  “Maybe I should have let your mother talk to you,” he says warily. “Mija, what is this about? You’re a little old for ghost stories.”

  I silently stare at the liquid inside my bottle, getting warm.

  “I’m gonna need a shot of tequila,” my dad calls to the bartender. The shot is poured in front of him and Juan-Carlos gives me a what-did-you-do look. My dad takes the shot and then puts a lemon in his mouth.

  “Mija, there are things in this world I will never understand.” Warm fingers wrap around mine and I almost jump out of my chair, but his protective hand stays where it is to give me a comforting squeeze. “And I’m fine with leaving them be.”

  “I’m scared dad,” I murmur.

  His fingers tap against the bar. Something he does when he knows I need an answer. He beams and says knowingly, “Because you don’t understand it. You were scared of thunder too. And hurricanes. But that didn’t stop you. Mija, you are the smartest person I know. You will figure this out. And I promise you won’t have to do it alone.” He puts a protective arm around my shoulders and kisses the top of my head.

  “You’re going to help me?” I ask, feeling a bit better.

  “No, I’ll send your brothers.”

  “They’ll just make a mess.”

  “I never said they’d be helpful.”

  “Where do I start?” It comes out like a groan.

  “Form a hypothesis.”

  “Daaad,” it comes out in a pouty whine because I know he’s teasing me. “This isn’t a science project.”

  “I remember that giant science word in English and all you can say to me is that it isn’t a science project.” He guzzles down half the beer in his bottle.

  “I don’t even know what questions I should be asking,” I admit and stare into the beer pathetically.

  “Did you try Google?” he teases.

  In an exasperated voice, I say, “Dad, it’s not funny.”

  He nudges me. “You kids always say it has all the answers.”

  Sitting up straight, I stare at him, knowing what I have to do. I can’t believe I didn’t think about this sooner. Holding up my beer, I stand up and shout, “Salud.”

  Everyone shouts it back. I chug the whole bottle and slam it hard on the bar.

  “Orale! Otra cerverza,” Juan-Carlos hollers impressed.

  My dad is staring at me with an open mouth. Juan-Carlos places another beer in front of me. Bright red and sputtering, my dad shouts, “Ay Chingao! I’m not paying for that. Give that to me.” He takes the beer as his own and yells at Juan-Carlos, “She’s not thirsty anymore!”

  Juan-Carlos appraises me with lifted eyebrows.

  “Stop looking at her!” my dad shouts. “I will tear your eyeballs out of your head!” He reaches over the bar top and when he can’t grasp Juan-Carlos, he stands in front of me so the bartender can’t see me.

  They yell at each other in Spanish, and I leave money on the counter for our drinks. Before I can force my dad to leave, he gulps down the beer Juan-Carlos gave me and takes the ten-dollar bill I left, and replaces it with a five and some change. “No tip!”

  “You still owe me—.”

  My dad growls.

  Juan-Carlos says in a low voice, “I’ll put it on your tab.”

  Determination takes me to the threshold, and I stop right before I exit the building. My eyes assess the dark parking lot. I can’t go out there alone. My dad is still arguing with Juan-Carlos when he runs into me and we both stumble outside.

  A protective arm is around my shoulders and my father is still murmuring curse words under his breath. If we are attacked right now, how would I defend us? I want to dash to the car and get safely inside of it. But I don’t want to leave my father out here by himself. If something is lurking nearby, neither of us has a chance.

  Walking to the car, he grumbles heatedly, “You’re grounded.”

  “For what?” I ask puzzled, sure I heard him wrong.

  His face is still bright red from arguing and he can’t look me in the eye. “You’re never allowed to drink beer ever again!” he sputters.

  And for a moment, I forget everything I’ve been worried about and become a teenage girl again. It’s the best punishment in the world right now. Because I never want to leave my house again.

  My mother is near the entryway the second she hears the car pull up. Her eyes scrutinize us and she prete
nds not to notice the smell of alcohol on my breath. Everyone is quiet when we enter, which is abnormal for having twin brothers.

  “Did I walk into the wrong house?” my dad asks loudly. “I swear when I left, I had two loud boys.”

  The twins giggle on the couch. They’re watching us, and my dad chases them around the furniture so they don’t notice the fierce hug mom gives me. Or the prayer she mutters before she makes the sign of the cross.

  She cups my face and stares into my eyes for a few seconds before she lets me go. It’s quiet again. My brothers round the corner in their chasing game and stand motionless. We stare at each other. Perceptive little boogers.

  How do I protect them?

  “Time to get ready for bed,” my mother shouts at them. They both make the same do-we-have-to face, but don’t argue like they usually do every night. She shoos them toward the bathroom.

  In my room, I sit on the bed and stare at my phone.

  Lies. Rowan wants me to believe all the lies he told me. Hoping I’ll accept them. The lies adults tell themselves so they’re not afraid of the dark. It’s probably in my best interest to leave it be.

  Pretending it didn’t happen will make me go insane.

  If I want answers, they won’t come from him.

  But someone else was there.

  It’s possible he doesn’t know. Just another victim of circumstance. Or he believed the lies we all tell ourselves when things go bump in the night.

  My thumb hits the call button. It never hurts to ask.

  The problem is, if he can’t validate what I saw—maybe I am insane.

  Chapter 14

  Gabriel

  S and swallows my shoes and I second guess my decision because she would be defenseless here. Jenissa’s scent is carried off with the ocean breeze in the opposite direction. An excellent tactic when someone’s hunting you. It’s how I know she’s still alive.

  The corner of my mouth lifts.

  And she almost took out the Boogeyman.

  Coordinating my inhales between the strong winds, Jenissa’s scent seems stronger. I set off across the beach, making waves of sand surge upward. The small grains fill my shoes and I have to stop to empty them. I don’t put them back on and pull off a sock, taking my time. Someone whispers my name.

  Barefoot, I race across the beach to a limping figure coming down the ramp of a lifeguard house.

  She collapses in my arms, covered in blood. The black liquid leaks from her wounds and she hisses in pain when I grab her too tightly. A glimpse of the giant hole in her chest makes me shudder. Vampires heal quickly, but her body will take weeks to mend itself back together.

  Cuts and bullets from regular weapons are like bee stings. Annoying, but easily dealt with.

  Hunters usually fight with blessed weapons. Or a religious relic passed down through their generations. It’s the only way they can win against demons and send us back to hell.

  A sharp stinging sensation turns into a deep burn every time I breathe in next to her. It boils within me, cornering the demon like a scared puppy. Holy water. It can’t kill her unless they drown her in a tub of it. At least that’s the rumor. No doubt started by hunters.

  Holy water is one of the few liquids that reacts differently inside of a vampire’s body. Splashed across our skin it burns, melting flesh and trying to purify the damned soul locked inside of a lost cause.

  Internally, it acts like a ping-pong ball, causing havoc wherever it goes. It’s like a drug, and the effects will eventually wear off, but you never know when. Some burn on the inside like me and others are weakened. I’ve heard stories of vampires sacrificing themselves to the sun with holy water in their system.

  I gather her up in my arms and take off. “You need to leave. The shadow man will find you if you stay.”

  She tsks. “Worried about little ole me.” Her voice sounds far away.

  “Why?” I spit the question at her, enraged. “I warned you he was coming. And you had to have all three? You’re always so greedy.”

  “It would have been helpful to know the Boogeyman switched sides. I would have shared with him,” her voice is barely above a whisper. She pulls a lighter out of her pocket. “Be ready to use that if he shows up.”

  “One of them was still breathing. You left behind a potential hunter,” I growl savagely at her nonchalance attitude. A loose end I took care of for her.

  “Someone interrupted my meal.” She gazes at me with hooded eyes, the epitome of innocence.

  “You were greedy.”

  She mocks me by placing a hand over her heart in an endearing way like she’s truly sorry for her actions.

  “Arizona will help you get off this continent. And if we’re lucky, the shadow man won’t follow. Something keeps him here.”

  She goes limp in my arms. There’s a wave of sand as I skid to a stop to check on her. I place her on the ground and tilt her face toward me.

  Barely moving her lips, she says, “I’m playing dead so she’ll leave without me.”

  I pinch her chin harder than I mean to, and say icily, “This is not a game. You need to be in Fort Lauderdale tonight.”

  I lift her up at the same time she asks, “Did you save her?”

  “Of course I did. Thanks, by the way, for the giant claw marks on my back that will take days to heal,” I say sarcastically. And I’m positive Amelia will want nothing to do with me if she’s not working with the hunters already. I also left behind a potential hunter.

  “A true knight in shining armor. Truly disgusting.” But I can see the tiny, playful smile spreading across her face. She’s quiet for the next few minutes and I have to glance down to make sure she’s still alive. When our eyes meet, she says softly, “Come with me.”

  There’s no reason for me to stay. Not with the Boogeyman in town. Once he catches your scent, it’s catalogued forever. If he wants you dead, it’s only a matter of time before he finds you.

  By now the Boogeyman knows I’m acquainted with Jenissa. But he has no reason to come after me.

  I should shrug my shoulders and agree. Instead, I don’t answer her and look away, pretending I didn’t hear her.

  When we both know I did.

  The phone rings in my pocket. I don’t recognize the sound until Jenissa makes a derisive noise. Her voice is faint, “You lying, cheating scoundrel. If I had the energy, I’d kill you for stealing it. I should have clawed you harder. No one uses the phone to call anyone. Who could it possibly be?” She emphasizes the question in a knowing tone and sounds more like herself.

  Tentatively, I reply, “I doubt it.” It takes me a moment to realize that I want it to be Amelia. And I’m trying very hard to pretend I don’t care.

  Knee deep in seawater to cover our scents, I don’t cross the beach until our neighborhood is close. I dash house to house, searching for an open car sitting in a driveway.

  Lucky number twelve. The keyless fob sits in the Mercedes cup holder ready for me to take it for a spin. Jenissa flinches when I place her in the backseat. I close the car door and my fingers twitch toward the phone in my pocket. Check it now. Every time the damn thing goes off, it’s for Jenissa. It’s in my hand before I change my mind.

  Amelia’s name appears on the screen under missed call.

  Did they tell her? Does she know what I am now?

  There’s also a text message.

  Amelia: Please call me back.

  I’ll call her once I get Jenissa to Fort Lauderdale and she’s safely on a yacht out of here. The phone rings again. Amelia’s name is front and center. I stare at it until it goes to voicemail.

  In the car, Jenissa grumbles, “Desperate much? I guess she really does love a hero. At least you didn’t answer it. Let her squirm awhile. Don’t contact her till tomorrow.”

  A text message chimes.

  “Text message too?” Jenissa asks impressed. “I think I’m scared for you now. What if she has some kind of vampire fetish?”

  I glance at the messages bef
ore I pull onto the road.

  Amelia: Tomorrows my day off. I have school but I wanted to see if you wanted to grab that coffee

  Amelia: Ill be at the A Cuppa Joe tomorrow at 2pm if you want to join me. The one in Old Spanish Town

  I don’t answer her, and the phone goes back in my pocket. Jenissa doesn’t ask me what it says. She’s eerily quiet and I check on her several times in the rear-view mirror. Laid out in the backseat, she doesn’t move the entire trip until I park near the marina.

  Boats bob on the water. Each one tucked into their slip like they’re sleeping, waiting for the sun to rise. Large street lamps give the place a soft glow so no one can sneak around, and bugs sing in tune with the lapping water.

  Arizona comes out of nowhere and taps on my window. In her former life, she lived and breathed for the swamp. Now that she has eternity, all she does is defend nature. If she can’t get Jenissa out tonight, there’s probably a place in the wetlands she can take her where you can’t distinguish scents.

  The person who owns the house we’re borrowing has a yacht here. Jenissa and I came to check it out one day and Arizona was waiting for us on the dock. They almost tore each other’s heads off until I explained we weren’t moving in.

  Arizona taught me how to maneuver the boat on the water. Jenissa came once and couldn’t stand the silence. Idle chit chat isn’t something Arizona is good at. She prefers a quiet life.

  And she never asks questions. It’s one of her best qualities.

  Out of the car, I nod to Arizona and help Jenissa slide out. “Do you want me to carry you?”

  Arizona scans Jenissa but doesn’t say a word.

  “You better get back. Or find a place to stay for the day.” Jenissa winces and stands on her own. Arizona doesn’t offer a helping hand and signals which way they’re going in.

  “Behave yourself,” I tell her. Our eyes lock for a few seconds. I almost think she’s going to ask me to come with her again.

  “You couldn’t find me someone with conversational skills?”

  “Your problem is talking too much. It makes people go mad. One of Arizona’s special skills is she can tune almost anything out.”