by J. A. Saare
EDGE OF DARKNESS
Rhiannon's Law
J.A. Saare
Edge of Darkness Copyright ©2021 by J.A. Saare
All rights reserved.
Cover Art J.A. Saare ©2021
First Edition May 2021
Editing by Devil in the Details.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Contents
Quote
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Epilogue
Excerpt: PERFECT DARK, The Company of Wolves
About the Author
Look For These Titles By J.A. SAARE
To Shirley who urged me to keep writing when I was afraid to. If anyone is responsible for me pushing forward, it's her. I love you, Mom. Thank you for accepting me as the daughter of your heart when I married your son.
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To Skittles. You've been with me through the good and bad over the years. I can't thank you enough. Your friendship means the world to me. Love you mucho and always.
* * *
To the Mickey that makes my Minnie. I love you, sweets.
* * *
To the readers who have supported me and patiently waited for Rhiannon's return. I appreciate your encouragement more than you know. It's been difficult, as things have happened in my life and turned my world upside down. It took several years to find myself again and get back on track.
* * *
Dad, I love and miss you.
* * *
We need not fear death, for it is simply the next phase of life. We never die, we simply change form—just as we have since the day we were born.
~ The Collective Truth
Chapter One
Rhiannon’s Law #105: Never say never. There’s always a chance you’ll find yourself in an unfortunate situation doing precisely what you vowed you’d never do, and you'll look like a complete moron. If you don't want to feel like a dumbass, don't make promises you can't keep.
I lifted my head, glaring at the entrance of Carousel Skate Center, remembering that no matter how fucked life seemed, it could always get worse. The windows along the brick building were painted black, making it impossible to look inside. The cheerful posters along the exterior made me want to hurl. Bright, neon lights illuminated a sign above the door, taking me all the way back to the 80s. I looked at the blinding decoration above the entrance and winced when I read the business tagline.
MOVE AND GROOVE AT CAROUSEL!
My stomach contorted, and I forced aside momentary nausea.
I did not want to go inside the place.
Since it was Friday night, there’d be children, teenagers, and adults moving and grooving inside the joint. I pictured them skating to snazzy beats on a circular wooden floor, trying not to bust their asses as they danced on thin wheels without a care in the world. They’d be smiling, laughing, and completely unaware of the danger nearby. Like free-range cattle, chewing on cud and fresh hay, living out a false promise of protection and happiness in heavenly pastures.
Pastures of hell.
Many people didn’t know the world was a horrible place. An evil place. They thought the skating rink was a safe haven. If they knew the truth, they’d run in the other direction.
I shook my head to clear it, trying to focus.
Just shut up already. You can’t save the world.
My heart skipped a beat.
That wasn't a fair assessment.
I had tried to change the world. I'd put everyone and everything I loved on the line, wanting to make things better. And I'd lost. The cards I'd been dealt were destroying me bit-by-bit and piece-by-piece. I wasn’t a Timelord or Star Captain. I wasn't someone who had the power to control shit. But I'd wanted to make things right. I wanted to make everything better. Regardless of the fact, nothing I did seemed to work or matter.
Despite my best intentions, things were getting worse.
Once upon a time, I had a friend who could read people’s futures with a simple touch. He'd always known what was coming. He told me to navigate the future, I'd have to accept what had been and what was to come. Even with his foresight, I hadn't listened. I'd focused on the things I wanted to change.
Back then, I thought I had the answers.
I'd been wrong.
What I wanted was never going to happen. Not anymore. Not ever. The friend giving such sound advice was gone. He'd died because of me. I’d never see Paine again. Not at a coffee shop. Not as a passerby on the street. Not at home. Not anywhere. He'd given his life to save mine.
And the worst part?
He'd known it.
He'd willingly sacrificed himself for me. Even as he fought the glory of heaven, determined to remain with me and stand by my side, he'd been forced to cross over. Awareness of the sacrifice gnawed at my heart. His loss ate at me. Hour after hour. Day after day. I missed him so fucking much.
More than that, I needed him.
He'd done more than chase away my shadows. He'd given me hope. He'd contrasted my darkness with light. I'd been so damned stupid I hadn't realized just how profoundly he grounded me. With each new day, the realization grew stronger. Without him, I'd been left in a free fall. Unsure and doubtful of myself.
With a sigh, I straightened my shoulders and cracked my neck.
I wasn’t a hero or heroine on a television show. Hell, I didn’t come close. I was an ignoramus bitch who got into trouble and didn’t play well with others. I was stubborn, rude, and dealt out punishment when I felt it was needed. No one could call me a role model. I wasn't even a suitable anti-hero.
My thoughts drifted to my boob tube hero: Peter Petrelli.
Since I spent a majority of my time cooped indoors where vampires and other monsters couldn't find me, watching shows on the tablet Disco had given me had become a staple in my daily routine. Peter had become an instant hit. He was the ultimate badass and the reason I’d been on a Heroes binge. My motto had become: What would Peter do? He had moves like Jagger and a face angels would kill for. I only wanted him to come to the abysmal place I called home to make my world a little better.
Listen to yourself, asshat. Peter wouldn’t help you.
He’d kill you.
I wasn't a good person. I was the villain.
I'd fucked everything up and then some.
There was no way Paine could change that, even if he were alive.
Getting my head on straight, I strode toward the skating rink. I faltered on a small sliver of cracked concrete and nearly tripped.
Damn it.
I could
n’t be like this. Not here and definitely not now.
I had to stop thinking about my lost friend, favorite television program, and my ultimate superhero. I took a moment to remind myself shows and movies were conjured to make mortals feel safe and hopeful. They were created for assholes like me who wanted to see the good in the world. A man with a cape or a woman with flashy gold wristbands wouldn't show up when things turned to shit. Villains lurked around corners, hidden where you couldn’t see them.
To get things done, I had to do them myself.
My feet felt heavy as I resumed my trek.
I owed Bane—an arms dealer and potential ally—a favor to prove my trustworthiness. Although Disco had done his part in securing a safe location while he amassed a small but formidable vampire army the last few months, he'd soon agreed we needed Bane. The man wasn't who he appeared to be and had contacts throughout the world. He knew vampires, werewolves, witches, warlocks, necromancers, and other beings that understood and weaved every kind of magic. I needed that know-how to locate Marigold Vesta's resting place.
The sooner, the better.
She'd take over my body if I didn't.
She'd send me to the ever after in an instant.
If this is what Bane wanted to seal the deal and prove our loyalty, I'd give it to him. My vampire lover was powerful without question. He could alter perception and reality. But without the amulet I’d given him, he couldn't mask his whereabouts. Vampires who'd taken his blood could and would find him. They'd hunt us down without hesitation. Even as the Master of New York, Gabriel Trevellian, AKA Disco, wasn't God. He'd only been capable of keeping us hidden while we killed vampires and half-demons using the talisman.
Without Marigold's amulet and Bane's help, we'd be toast.
“I can hear you, you know.” Disco’s voice flittered through my head. Waves of reassurance came from him, each warm stroke like a direct caress. I also felt his dominance, control, and calm. "You do need to focus. I’m not comfortable with you out in the open. Get inside.”
“I’m going, I’m going.” I took a steadying breath and beat-feeted it toward the door.“What if you can’t control the environment?”
“You know I can.” He sounded agitated, which was nothing new. If anything, he seemed more authoritative and bossy. "Stop questioning me, and stop fooling around.”
“If anyone sees anything,” I reminded him, "we’re fucked, fucked, fucked.”
He didn’t respond, and I struggled to curb my frustration. In the last few months, he’d changed. We both had. We’d played a dangerous game and lost. He’d had to say good-bye to his blood-brother. I had to let go of my sister. We'd both suffered grievous wounds, creating scars we'd carry the rest of our lives.
But we dealt with our losses differently.
Death had left a hole in my soul, one I was certain would never fully mend. When I couldn't cope, I let the pain surround me and used it as a weapon. Gabriel, on the other hand, had stopped giving a shit altogether. He cared about and loved one thing—me—and that was that. As careful and loving as he had once been, he now had a lethal violent streak. I'd told him numerous times he was the only thing I had left, my anchor in turbulent waters.
If that went away…
"It won’t go away,” he whispered in my head in a softer tone. “Get inside.”
His words were reassuring, but something was wrong. I couldn't identify it, but I felt it. It was like wiring had been cut, severed, and reworked. In some ways, he was still my Disco. He always would be. In others, he had become the Gabriel I'd been introduced to.
Disco was my lover. I adored him.
Gabriel was my master and not to be fucked with.
That vampire was more efficient, ruthless, and dangerous.
"Focus, Rhiannon." The reprimand was like a wave of fire in my head. "Move."
I rushed to do as he said and made it to the door.
Once there, I froze.
My parents had loved to take me skating, bringing me to a center a couple of times a month, which was why I vowed never to return to a rink. Unfortunately, Bane needed access to a vampire inside. I took steadying breaths as I stepped into the building, my gaze landing on a young man behind a partition of glass. He had on a vintage Aerosmith shirt and sported a groovy haircut. He frowned when he saw me, no doubt wondering why a grown woman in a hoodie, skinny jeans, and knee-high shit-kickers had decided to get her skating groove on.
“Just one?” he asked, studying my attire.
“Yep.” Admission was only five bucks. I handed him a bill and attempted to settle my nerves, trying to appear excited and content. “I haven’t done this in a while, so I’ll probably bust my ass. But you know what they say?”
His dark eyes darted up. “What do they say?”
“Sometimes your cards ain’t worth a dime if you don’t lay ‘em down.”
The joke was lost on him. He looked puzzled.
Not a Grateful Dead fan, apparently.
He accepted the cash, and I waited to receive a small, plastic stamp on the back of my hand. I didn’t want to let the guy touch me, but I followed procedure. Once done, he pulled away, and I took a step back. He reached for a black light and swept it over the back of my hand. I saw the greenish glow—CSC—right under my knuckles that indicated I’d paid my entry free and therefore could skate in peace.
“Enjoy your evening and have a good one,” he said and pushed a button that opened an enormous black door. “It’s almost time for shoot the duck. You missed wipe out.”
You have no idea how ironic that statement is.
I shot him a fake grin. “Damn, I did? That sucks.”
I made it inside, my eyes adjusted to the darkness, and I grimaced.
Please, God, give me strength.
"It Takes Two" by Rob Base and DJ EZ Rock blasted in my ears. It was a great tune, but it didn’t inspire warm and cozy feelings. Nor did it make me want to show everyone my trucking moves. Instead, I felt small and insecure, like a lost child looking for help. This kind of facility had been a refuge when I was a child. Like the dimwits on skates around me, I had thought the world was a good place.
I kept going, putting one foot in front of the other.
The mirror ball above the rink splashed multi-colored squares all over the room.
Teenagers, parents, and a few small children crowded the place—just as I’d known they would. I didn’t bother looking for the booth to exchange my boots for skates. I reached out with my senses, trying to find who I’d come for. I blocked out the scent of nachos, pizza, and popcorn. I waited for the light hum that spread over my skin when undead beings were around. The vampire that Bane wanted owned the place and had a large room in the back. It was fucked-up in so many ways. Parents believed their kids were safe here, and the vamp used their trust to feed on their children. He feasted on the blood he preferred night after night, and humans were none the wiser.
“The building stretches along the opposite side.” Disco informed me. "The room has to be nearby. Look there.”
“I’m on it.”
I walked toward the DJ booth. The bass in the room throbbed through me, making my teeth rattle. I kept waiting for someone to notice me, but no one did. Disco was doing a fine job masking my presence. That was his power—one the amulet I’d given him magnified—keeping those around me in the dark. He could make anyone see what he wanted them to. Right now, I was invisible to every human in the place. That was why Bane had chosen this as our task.
He didn't want witnesses.
I spotted a guard in front of a door and knew I’d scored. He wasn’t in formal attire, but I pegged him for what he was. A vampire slave. Likely he was Norad Cotton’s familiar, which made him dangerous. Since I didn’t have time to ponder the possibility, I went directly to the man.
“I’m here to see Mr. Cotton.” I’d gotten better at playing pretend, although I did miss Goose—my friend and colleague who only talked to me via secret messages as it was the only saf
e way to communicate at present—by my side. He had a gift when dealing with people. “I have an appointment.”
An image flashed before my eyes. The false memory Disco planted in the man's mind rushed through my head. With a simple thought, the vampire slave perceived me as a former guest who would do no harm to his master.
Big Boy turned to the door, removed a set of keys, and slid one into the knob. He opened it with a simple turn of his hand. I thanked him and strode into another room. The door closed behind me, and the sound changed. In fact, there was zero noise. The tiny area had been soundproofed. Three men waited inside. Two stood on either side of the door I'd entered. The other waited behind a plain desk shielding the door behind him.
There was also something else, an odd and oppressing sensation lingering inside the space. It didn't take long to identify the source of the hum because it was the dark kind.
Magic.
“What can I do for you?” the man behind the desk asked.
Take me to your leader. I've come to kill him. “I’m here to see Mr. Cotton.”
“Is he expecting you?”
“Yes.” A total lie. Cotton wasn’t expecting me at all. “I was told to come tonight.”
“One moment.” The man retrieved a phone under the desk, which was completely unexpected. The magic in the room must have kept Disco from using his ability. Otherwise, I'd already be on my way to my target.
Fuck me.
If a call got through to Norad, the jig was up.
“Is that necessary?”
