by Amy Marie
“Wh—” Inigo can’t even get a word out before the air is pressed out of him.
It doesn’t take long for the rest of us to jump to action. Joe waves his hand and a gust of air slams the door shut behind the men. He and Dylan move to jump on the old man and overpower his hold. They wrestle him away from Inigo and into a nearby chair, restraining him with a few cords plugged into the wall nearby.
“Mr. Sinclair? What the hell is going on?” Inigo yells, confused by what just happened to him.
“The destructor has the power to control people. He’s been possessed, he can’t answer you,” Rafe explains.
“We can’t keep him here,” Joe says. “She’ll know what we’re doing. It’s like planting a bug.”
Tara stands between the old man and the coffee table, but maneuvers herself to sit on the box containing the jewelry, blocking the artifact from his view, just in case Joe’s right.
“We can’t just turn him out. What if they kill him?” I argue.
“We can tie him up in the other room,” Inigo offers.
It only takes a couple minutes, but the guys manage to transport the old man into Inigo’s spare bedroom and safely tie him to the bed.
“Now what do we do?” Dylan asks in a whisper, so Mr. Sinclair can’t overhear.
“We have the necklace,” Rafe says quietly, thinking out loud. “Maybe we can put it on Mr. Sinclair to test it out. If our theory is right, the necklace will put an end to the possession.”
My eyes wander in the direction of the guest room, where a few thuds can be heard in struggle as the possessed man tries to break free.
“But then Lilly will know we have the necklace,” I argue, keeping my voice low.
“She has to know she has a fake by now,” Rafe says.
“But she doesn’t know that we know that. And she doesn’t know we have the real one. Maybe we can play this to our advantage,” I say.
“How?” asks Tara.
I pause for a few moments, pacing back and forth in contemplation. My gaze drifts around the room and stops on the photos of the Seine.
“I have an idea.”
Chapter 15
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Rafe whispers to me as I lay down on the couch. I’ve just laid out my plan to the others, and they agree it’s our best shot.
“It’s the only way without letting them know we have the necklace,” I insist. “Make sure everything else is ready. Keep Broderick safe.”
He gives a reassuring nod before I close my eyes. After the vision from the necklace, my body is weary, so it doesn’t take me long to drift off to sleep.
I’ve never been able to successfully navigate my dreams, but I’d been concentrating on Darcy so much before I fell asleep that when I come to again, I’m sitting along the river in Boston at our favorite spot. If he were to meet me in my dreams, this would be the perfect setting.
I drink in the scenery that I’ve come to know so well. The calming water flow dances along the tree-lined path, spilling over a natural line of decomposed granite stones. The path of mossy stones entices me to cross, but I patiently wait on my side searching the opposite bank for my dreaming guest to arrive.
But he doesn’t come.
I wait for what seems like an eternity, but who knows how long in dreaming time. Just when I think I might wake up, a yellow and black bird calls overhead, enticing me to follow its flight. Knowing this is the sort of thing dreams are made of, I follow the path. I’m back into the trees, tracking along a worn and familiar trail. The dense foliage finally opens up and I come upon a familiar white manor home.
Eleanor’s home.
Darcy is throwing rocks up to a second story window — my old window.
I take a moment to admire him in his Romeo guise, pretending to not be controlled by Lilly. I have to admit, he had me fooled. The pain of that knowledge throbs with a longing ache to have the real Darcy back. There are parts of me, deep down, that want to forget the others and take the necklace for myself just to be able to bring him back to me. I’m quick to suppress those thoughts. I’ll never be that selfish. I’m not like Talbot.
I take a deep breath, steeling my emotions for the task at hand. I step from the trees, reaching out to Darcy. My hand is both yearning and revolting to touch him, knowing what must be done.
When we connect, he turns in surprise. Grabbing me by my arms, he pulls me in to grasp me tight. “Nora! Thank God!”
“Is it you?” I step back to ask him, though I already know.
“I am asleep,” he affirms. “As soon as I could rest, I knew I had to find you. I had no idea Lilly was going to attack! I would have told you, I swear.”
Liar.
Tears fill my eyes, but I play it off as fear instead of anger.
“We lost the necklace,” I say. “Just when we figured out what it can do!”
“We will have to think of something,” Darcy says, pulling me close again.
“What if we plan something here?” I say after a moment, pretending like the idea just struck. “A sneak attack! Lilly will never suspect. And you can help us!”
“She controls my body when I am awake,” he sounds unsure.
“But she doesn’t control you here, right?” I meet his eyes, and I’m almost convinced that she doesn’t. But after the museum, I know better. I look down, burying my face into his chest.
“What do you suggest?” he asks.
“What if we make a trade? I brought the Statera to Paris. I can talk to her through Mr. Sinclair, and tell her that I’ll give the book and myself up to you if she stops possessing the fire soul,” I blurt out my idea, gauging his reaction. “We can meet on one of the bridges in front of the museum. Just you and the fire soul for the trade-off.”
“But how will that—” he starts to ask, but I interrupt him.
“Bring the necklace. Keep it in your pocket where you used to carry the dagger. I can sneak it off you and put it around your neck. Her power will be useless on you. I’ll never be in any real danger once we get you back!”
I see the wheels turning in his head as he calculates. His face strains, like he’s waging a mental war inside. Maybe I’m wrong about Lilly controlling him in his dreams? Maybe he’ll tell me the necklace is fake?
Despite the redness spreading in his cheeks, he remains silent. If there was ever any trace of doubt that Lilly has control, it’s now gone.
“That could work… though, I hate the thought of using you as bait,” he says. “It will take some convincing for her to let me bring the necklace. And even once I come back to you, we will still have to fight the fire.”
“Right,” I agree, resisting the urge to strangle him for being fake. “I know we can find a way. The others will be ready. Maybe we can get you both back!”
“Perhaps you should keep the elements under safeguard. Just you and Rafe should meet us,” he says. “Together you and I can overpower the fire.”
I meet his eyes with tears in my own, heartbroken at how our souls are deceiving each other. “Tell me this will work,” I beg him. Tears spill over and something in the air changes again. The dream is ending.
“Meet me at midnight, on the Pont des Arts,” he says, pulling me in for a kiss.
I put my hand up, stopping him. I’m not sure I can fake a kiss.
“Kiss me when you’re free,” I say. “I’ll meet you by the river.”
And with those heartbreaking words, the dream fades.
Chapter 16
One of my worst habits is lip biting. I bite my lip when I’m feeling shy, holding something back, or most often when I’m plagued with worry. Right now, it’s the latter. I’m going over every scenario in my mind of what could go wrong with the plan I’ve set in motion.
My fingers tap nervously on the car door of our Uber. “The Pont des Arts,” the driver announces our arrival when we pull up to the multi-arch bridge.
Several street lamps cast a soft glow over the pedestrian metal walkway that connects th
e left bank of Paris to the right. After what happened at the museum, I wondered if the bridge would be closed, but the crime scene tape begins on the other edge of the riverside quay. At this time of night, the investigation seems to be put on hold and no one appears to be loitering in the streets.
“This is where he said to meet?” Rafe asks.
“Yep.” I breathe out. “You ready?”
At his nod, I tip the driver and we exit the car.
The evening chill has settled over the Seine, condensing into patchy layers of shallow fog that drift along the river, setting the mood for the exchange. I can just make out two dark figures lingering at the far end of the bridge.
They’re here.
I hesitate a moment, mentally preparing myself for what must be done.
Rafe scans the bridge and riverbank down to our right as if searching for any waiting traps. As he looks further down the river, a small reassuring gust of wind ruffles our hair, and he lets out the breath he was holding, looking to me for the cue to proceed.
Briefcase in hand, I take the first step forward. Every step we take farther onto the bridge is matched by the pair on the opposite end. We’re set to meet in the middle, but Darcy and Shkote’Nsi stop about ten feet from us, bringing Rafe and I to a balanced halt.
“My light,” Darcy dips his head to greet me with a taunt.
“What would the word be for hollowed shell of darkness?” I retort, never mistaking that he’s being controlled by Lilly’s empty power.
“It is just the two of you?” he asks, gesturing to me and Rafe.
“As instructed. The elements are under safeguard,” Rafe speaks up.
“You have the book?” he asks me.
I hold up the briefcase so Rafe can open it in my arms just enough to show them the Statera is inside.
Rafe closes the lid after a few seconds, pushing down to make sure the seal locks. He meets my eyes for just a moment, assuring me he’s ready.
“I’m coming to you,” I announce to Darcy. With a side glance to Shkote’Nsi, I add, “No tricks.”
The young fire soul holds up his arms in innocence, but watches my every move as I slowly step toward Darcy.
“Where’s Lilly?” I ask when I get within his reach.
“Taking care of things back home, but do not worry, she has her eye on things here,” he says with meaning.
I set the briefcase beside my feet, never breaking eye contact. I slowly straighten as tears fill my eyes. “Darcy, if there’s any part of you in there, can I at least say goodbye?” My shaking hands reach for him, or more precisely… for his pocket.
As my hands connect with him, he stands still as a statue.
“I’ll never give up on you,” I whisper just before swiping my hand into his pocket to remove the necklace. Before he can react, I press the pendant into the palm of his hand, just like my dream instructed.
Darcy looks down at his hand, and then back at me with wide eyes. After a few seconds, his face transforms into a gross version of his usual half-smile.
“Your greatest weakness is your inability to sacrifice. Even if this was the real necklace, you would have done much better to save the fire,” he sneers, thinking he’s tricked me.
Tears fall unchecked as I match his stare. “I know,” I whisper, right as I cock my leg back to kick the briefcase over the edge of the bridge.
In the same moment, Rafe charges Shkote’Nsi, who was so preoccupied with watching me he never saw it coming. With his tackle, Rafe launches the both of them over the side of the bridge where I know Dylan waits below the surface of the water with the real necklace.
Darcy’s face transforms into dark rage as he launches me into the air with a punch meant to knock me out. Luckily, I’ve been training with Dylan, so I roll on impact with the ground into a crouched defensive stand, ready to fight my counterpart.
“Your elements cannot save you from my dark power,” Darcy says with a gleam of Lilly in his eyes.
“I don’t need saving anymore,” I snarl, channeling my power into the palms of my hands. I shoot a stream of burning light at Darcy, which he just barely dodges by diving to his side. The light sears a hole into the rail of the bridge, perfect for my escape.
I run toward the gap, ready to dive into the water and join the others, but a crushing weight plows into my side, bringing me to the ground. I’m rolled over as Darcy straddles my body. His hands reach down to squeeze my neck. The expression on his face is pure evil, an empty frenzy of darkness.
Seeing the lust for destruction in Darcy’s features is too much. Something inside me snaps, and even though his grip is tightening to cut off my airflow, my eyes glow with new resolve. A strangled scream escapes my throat and a burst of light explodes from my core, projecting him into the air several feet.
The thud his body makes on impact would pronounce any mortal injured, but the curse has Darcy back on his feet in seconds. He moves to relocate his disjointed shoulder before staring me down.
“Someone has found her power,” he taunts before channeling his own stream of dark magic aimed straight for my heart.
In a knee-jerk reaction, I push beams of light out to intercept his attack, causing a loud roar from the clash of power force.
“I cannot die, Nora. There is only one outcome here,” he yells over the collision of our power.
Before I can respond, I feel the presence of balanced energy nearby. I’m pushing forth with all my might to keep Darcy’s power at bay, but the reinforcements are literally right behind me.
“Keep fighting, Nora,” I hear Dylan whisper behind my right ear as a wet glowing hand settles gently on my left shoulder. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see a man’s tanned hand glowing an orangish red — the color of fire.
Chapter 17
Shkote’Nsi grips my shoulder gently, combining his power with mine. His radiating fiery power weaves through the beams of my light. The effect almost makes our combined energy radiate warmth like rays of sunshine — which just so happens to be Darcy’s weakness.
As our powers coalesce, the energy from my hands begins to overtake the dark stream of Darcy’s powers. When our infrared power pushes back far enough to reach Darcy’s hands, he jumps back as if scorched.
He looks up in question, not understanding what’s changed, until he sees the fire soul at my side with the real necklace around his neck.
“How—” he begins, but we don’t let him finish.
I take Shkote’Nsi’s glowing hand in mine and we push forward, knocking Darcy back in paralyzing pain. I didn’t think there were any tears left in me, but my body manages to produce more as I’m forced to torture the body of my cursed soul mate.
A rumble approaches from behind. As it nears, I recognize the chop of a propelling rotor — our getaway ride has arrived.
I squeeze Shkote’Nsi’s hand to get his attention. “Concentrate on making a shield to hold him back. We just need it to hold long enough for us to get away,” I yell over the racket.
He nods in acknowledgement. In less than a minute, we’ve set up an ultra-violet shield along the bridge. When our defense is secured, we turn and make a break for the helicopter.
Dylan runs ahead to open the door for us, ready to go. A drenched Rafe is already buckled in inside, holding the salvaged briefcase. We clamber in and signal to Joe that we’re okay to go. In seconds we’re lifting off, leaving a raging Darcy burning below on the ground.
The others celebrate our success, but I look down to the man I left behind on the bridge with a shudder.
It was the only way.
I attempt to console myself, but knowing I chose to save the world over Darcy doesn’t make leaving him behind any easier.
“I am sorry,” the young fire soul tries to offer me his sympathy. I can only offer him a weak smile in return.
Rafe is in his seat, staring at his phone in frustration.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, silencing the celebrations.
“When I heard Darcy
say Lilly was taking care of things back home, I thought I better check in on Char and Besim. I couldn’t get ahold of Char before. Neither one of them is responding now,” he says. “Let me try Dansé.” He holds his phone back up to his ear.
“It’s late. Maybe they—”
“Bloody hell!” Dylan exclaims as he looks down at the screen of his own phone from the co-pilot’s seat.
“Jesus Dylan, try not to do that while I’m flying! What is it?” Joe asks.
Dylan’s voice shakes as he reads the report out loud from his phone. “The aftermath of the recent earthquakes has begun to take its toll. A quake on the San Andreas fault line broke the southern coastal half of California off, and the land mass flooded into the ocean. But the worst of the destruction is along the East coast from North Carolina up to Massachusetts. Most of the United States’ eastern seaboard has been wiped out in a mega-tsunami!”
“Jesus!” Joe says as my eyes immediately lock on Rafe’s.
Char!
“What else does it say?” Rafe pleads for more information.
“It’s catastrophic. They can’t even estimate the damage.”
“Joe, we need to get to the airport. We have to get home to help them!” Rafe says. I’ve never seen him this panicked.
I’m not sure if I’m numb to the pain after what happened with Darcy, but I’m the one who attempts to calm Rafe down. “We’re already on our way, Rafe. I’m sure they’ll be fine. They were already protected in the shelter.”
“Which won’t do shit against an eighty-foot tsunami wave!” he curses in agony.
I flinch against the truth of his words. My mind just can’t process any more grief. In self-preservation, I shut myself down by dazing in and out, numb to my surroundings.
Before I know it, Joe announces our arrival to the airport with his call to air traffic control. “De Gaulle tower, this is helicopter foxtrot uniform tango juliet, requesting to land direct to the general aviation ramp.”
The French controller approves our landing, and in minutes we’re on the ground, fueling up the private jet. Tara and Inigo were sent ahead to the airport to prepare for a quick departure, Rafe runs inside the building to search for them.
