Dark Curse

by Kim Richardson

“Come on, Rowyn!” shouted Tyrius. “What the hell was that? Downward dog? Kick faerie-Jackie Chan’s ass!”

  My self-assurance quickly boiled to anger at my first hint of pain and blood. The bastard had managed to cut me. The fae was grinning in the I’m-going-to-kick-your-ass kind of way. That was my way. There was something not right here. Something was off.

  I stared blankly at him. He was a faerie. I was sure of it. He had enough fae stench on him to make my eyes water. So what then? He’d been sure of himself to take me on even though he knew I’d killed Daegal and his queen, which could only mean he was a better fighter than I was.

  The faerie’s mouth was spread in a wide, feverish grin. He laughed at me, and I snapped my gaze around behind me, catching the smug smiles of the other fae. They were enjoying this. Roars of laughter erupted from them. Evidently, they thought I was going to die. That was it.

  A slow burning sensation began to spread from my core and out into my body. A wild impulse to kill filled me, borne of the curse. And I accepted it.

  I felt something in me shift and I tossed my dagger away. I didn’t need it anymore.

  I don’t know why, but at that moment I looked at Gareth. However, the worry I saw on his face wasn’t directed at me. It was for the faeries.

  I’d had enough.

  I could still hear the faeries’ laughter, loud in my ears, like a chant.

  They were laughing at me.

  The darkness spilled through me like a shot of adrenaline, sweet and delicious, blending with my soul, my will. My hold on the darkness strengthened, and I pulled on it. Energy churned within my core, my soul, gold and black mixing in darkness and light. The darkness’s need to run grew stronger and stronger. My hands started to shake uncontrollably. Eyes fixed on the advancing fae, I set it free.

  A burst of energy flung out of my open palm and hit the fae in a cloudburst of light.

  The fae jerked, his head snapping up as he let out an unnerving, wailing cry. Convulsing, he fell to his knees as a wave of black and gold coated him, burning him from the inside out. He pitched to the ground, but not before I saw the blisters rising from the burned flesh around his face and hands. The fae lay outstretched on the scorched asphalt, burned down to little more than an appallingly blackened skeleton, though one leg retained enough muscle matter to continue blistering and roasting.

  They were laughing at me. They wanted to kill me.

  Screams rushed into my ears. Was that my name? Was someone calling me? There were a few more screams and then the quick, light sound of frightened feet, and I whirled.

  The Dark Arrows scrambled. They were trying to run away.

  It didn’t matter.

  My lust to kill pounded in me like a second heart. I smiled, my chest burning with hatred and power as I advanced slowly. The darkness in me felt my need to kill, and it redoubled, twining into my deep well of power. Energies roared through me in a torrent as I spun and flung out my palms.

  Twin tendrils of gold and black energies, of darkness and light, poured out of me and hit the scurrying faeries. I laughed. The roar of energies gave way to hideous shrieks, and then a steady, eerie silence masked by the sounds of sizzling flesh and black smoke.

  “Rowyn!” called a voice.

  I looked up, blinking. I could feel the darkness lift within me, a poison seeping from my soul and from my mind until only a whisper of it remained. Dizzy, the fog lifted through my thoughts.

  “Rowyn!” cried the same voice.

  I turned to find Gareth standing next to me, watching me with a horrified expression on his face. A headache flared up with a vengeance. I sagged in sudden exhaustion, the effort of the darkness an enormous drain on me, and had to plant my feet firmly on the ground to keep from falling over.

  “Rowyn,” said Gareth, his eyes wide as he looked at something behind me. “What have you done?”

  I followed his gaze and a groan slipped from me. Dear God. What have I done?

  Blinking, I took in the scorched skeletons of the faeries. I’d burned them alive. A wave of fear took me when I realized what I’d done. The ground spun, and I felt light-headed. I was going to throw up.

  I had killed those faeries for no reason and I had liked it. My lips parted in shock, and I lifted my head to find Gareth still watching me, sadness and fear in his eyes.

  The change in me had started.

  I was becoming a demon.

  18

  “Again,” commanded Gareth, standing with his hands on his hips. His dark bangs had fallen into his eyes, and the three-day-old stubble he had cultivated gave his features a dangerous edge, making him look mysterious and sexy. He bent at the waist. “Again!”

  Clearing my mind, I tapped into my will, attempting to pull the darkness forth again for the sixth time. My body hummed with force as a slip of the dark energy rose up inside, filling me with its seductive power. But then I felt a tug on my will, and the prickles of power quit with a surprising abruptness. It was gone. Again.

  “It’s not working,” I complained, irritated. I wiped my sweaty forehead with the back of my hand. My breath was coming in fast like I’d just jogged around Gareth’s block. Twice. We’d been at it for hours and the result was always the same; the energy would rise up, I’d hold it for a few seconds and then it would draw back and disappear, the connection lost. It was like the wick from a candle kept trying to light but a breeze kept putting the fire out.

  “Again,” ordered the elf. His eyes were hard chips of dark glass in an otherwise handsome and determined face. “Come on, Rowyn, concentrate.”

  I lifted my arms, exasperated. “What do you think I’ve been doing all this time? Painting my toenails? Waxing my bikini line? I. Have. Been. Concentrating!”

  Jaw clenched, Gareth murmured something under his breath, which only stirred up more of my annoyance. “Try it again. Or...”

  Pulse racing, I narrowed my eyes. “Or what?” I growled, my heart thumping madly.

  Gareth let out a frustrated sigh. He took a firmer stance, his head canted in irritation and his hands clasped before him. “Again.”

  Tired, I glanced over to the couch we’d pushed up against the wall along with the rest of his heavy chairs and furniture to make room for our “practice” sessions in his living room. I just wanted to fall into the soft cushions, preferably with the elf on top of me.

  After my horrifying and very public slaying of the Dark Arrow faeries, Gareth had immediately picked up what was left of the dead faeries—some bones that hadn’t been scorched to ashes and their weapons since apparently my gift couldn’t melt through metal—and had piled their remains in the back of his truck with Danto’s help.

  Me. I had sat on the ground with my knees up, trying very hard not to puke my guts out while attempting to come to terms with what I’d done. Only a monster, a savage demon could kill so viciously all the while enjoying it, relishing in its kills, its victims.

  Just as I had.

  Once the evidence had been neatly picked up, Danto and Layla offered to drive Tyrius back to my gran’s, and the elf had taken me back to his place to “work things out,” as he’d put it.

  We’d been at it ever since.

  “We’ve been at it for hours,” I said, my throat dry. I needed a drink, a very large glass of wine, or the bottle. “I can’t keep going like this. I need a break.”

  My jeans were torn where the Dark Arrow fae had cut me, the only evidence that it had happened since my skin had healed itself.

  Gareth’s face went hard with anger. “What you need is to get a hold on this power before you kill someone else.”

  Damn. Now I was pissed. “You don’t need to rub it in,” I snapped, my anger overpowering my fatigue. “I know what I did. I was there. Remember? Hell, the whole goddamn paranormal community knows by now.” Knows I’m a monster...

  My focus blurred, my expression slipping in disgust and anger, not at Gareth, but at myself for having killed those faeries. My stomach churned. I was a freaking mo
nster. I’d killed a dozen faeries with my lovely archdemon father’s gift. Fan-freaking-tastic. The worse part, the part that had me in a panic, was the part where I’d actually enjoyed the killing.

  A brief look of pain passed over Gareth’s features. “A curse this powerful takes an equal amount of power to control it,” he said, his voice a dark mutter. “Power of mind and of will. Controlling this power is a task that not just anybody can do. But you can. It needs to become second nature to you. Like the flick of an emotion, only stronger. It’s the only way you can control great power.”

  “I’m trying,” I said, my thoughts swirling as I tried to concentrate, over the pounding in my head.

  “Not hard enough,” pointed out Gareth, his voice rising. “Rowyn, you don’t seem to understand. You’re the only one who can kindle this demon magic. If you don’t want Lucian’s gift to control you, you need to step up and take command of it. You have to find a way to channel it yourself. If this darkness gains control of your body and your mind, you will lose. You will lose yourself and he will win. Whatever this is,” he gestured, “it’s not what you thought. It’s evil.”

  “I know. It’s changing me.” Dear souls. I knew it to be true. I had felt it.

  “You can stop it.” Gareth straightened, giving more emphasis to his words. “But first, you must master it. You are its master. You, Rowyn. With the ability to invoke the demon magic and end it. All with your mind.” He hesitated, his eyes meeting mine. “Lucian doesn’t care about you. He only cares about what your body can do with his gift, and he wants to control it. Don’t let him.”

  I let out a shaking breath. “I won’t become his puppet,” I said firmly.

  “So do something about it,” he snapped. “Get angry. Get even. Show this archdemon how truly powerful you are by taking control of this gift.” He paused, his expression just shy of vehemence. “Show him he was wrong.”

  I gritted my teeth. “He is wrong.” I felt my anger tighten around me until I thought I would scream.

  “Prove it,” said the elf, his voice tight. “Power changes people. But you can change with it, and I’m not talking about going to the dark side. You need to master it. You’re the master of this power,” he said. “Not the other way around.”

  “Right.” Easier said than done. I shifted uneasily, feeling the weight of his words around me, pulling me down. The truth was, I didn’t know if I could ever control this wild, demonic power in me before it swallowed me whole. Until the me disappeared, leaving only the monster.

  My eyes burned. Blinking fast I took a steadying breath. God, I was not going to cry. No, I was going to get even.

  “Trust me,” said Gareth. My eyes flicked to his face as a small, encouraging smile appeared on his lips. “You can do this. Don’t let him win.”

  I nodded, thinking of Lucian, my hands curling into fists as I imagined punching the chain-smoking archdemon in the face. I will not be used, echoed in my thoughts, and hatred bubbled up, demanding revenge.

  “Let’s try this again,” encouraged the elf, and a little smile touched his lips. “Any kind of magic or curse requires you to gather in the energy for whatever it is you’re trying to do. Now, focus, Rowyn. Gather the energy. Shape it with your thoughts and feelings.”

  “Okay.” I took another deep breath to try and slow my pulse as I concentrated. A tingling whispered in my mind, the only warning I got. I stiffened as the darkness rose through my mind, tapping into the demon energy and tuning it to my body, my mind.

  The archdemon’s curse dove deep into my psyche, melding with me until we were one. I trembled as a slip of dark energy poured through me. Black and gold energy streaked from the tips of my fingers, illuminating Gareth’s apartment with tiny spills of golden light. Grinning, I looked at Gareth, energy radiating out from my skin, stirring and rising like a heavy storm.

  Delight filled me on a quick intake of breath. “Okay. Now what?” I asked, feeling proud and nervous at the same time. The prick of the archdemon power tingled across me, heavy and slow. God, I hoped he knew what he was doing.

  “Good. That’s good,” said Gareth, a radiant smile on his face. “Now, focus the energy with your mind and hold it there. Don’t do anything else, just hold it.”

  My breath came in fast. “Ah—you forget that I have no freaking idea how to do that, right?”

  “You’re doing it right now,” offered the elf.

  My gaze slid to my hands and then back to the elf. “Guess I am.” Holy crap, I was! Black and gold threads of energy raced over my palms and fingers like a shimmer of electricity, winding around my skin and tingling my fingertips as it waited for a command.

  The elf nodded, his face both serious and excited. “Energy, magic, power—all need a great amount of concentration to work. Same for pullomancy.”

  “Which you still refuse to teach me,” I teased. Black and gold threads of energy coiled around my fingers and wrists like gleaming jewelry.

  His entire face brightened in the light from my demonic energies. “When you want to do something with it, the power needs to come from inside of you. For it to work, you need to focus on what you’re trying to do, visualize it, believe in it to make it work. You can’t make something happen that isn’t a part of you inside.” He took a breath, seemingly excited. “Then you have to shape it into what you want it to do. When you’re ready, you have to release it in the direction you want it to go.”

  My pulse pounded, and my ears popped at the sudden change in air pressure. “Okay, I get that part. But how do I actually do that?”

  Eyebrows high, he looked at me. “You... with emotions.”

  My lips parted, my thoughts rambling. “Emotions?”

  “Witches use incantations, wands, and talismans to channel their magic,” said Gareth. “Elves, we use a combination of our elf dust with elemental magic and incantations. Emotions are a kind of channel for power and magic. You have archdemon power. It’s in you. You don’t need a spell or magic or elf dust. You need emotions.”

  “Emotions,” I repeated, knowing to be true. I’d been pissed the three times I’d used my darkness. It made sense, strangely enough.

  Gareth was silent as his eyes traveled over my face. “Which is why we need to be extra careful with you. Your emotions run high. You’re an extremely emotional person.”

  I scowled at him. “Excuse me?” The tendrils of energy on my hands stretched and lengthened, mirroring my emotions.

  Gareth looked at my hands. “See?” he raised a brow. “You have a tendency to lose your temper. And that’s really dangerous.”

  Crap. He was absolutely right. Heat rushed to my face. “Fine. I have a short fuse. So sue me.”

  “More like an anger bomb,” said the elf, making my frown deepen. “There is power to be had in hatred and anger. You...” Gareth took a breath, exhaling long and low. “You have a temper, Rowyn. You act upon your feelings and always have. But in your case, now with this power, it’s a dangerous combination. You need to keep it in check. Focus, so that your anger doesn’t control you.”

  I knew I had a short fuse, had since I was little. It sprang up after years of bullying by the other angel-born kids. I got angry and lashed out. It was my defense mechanism, and it worked. They stopped bullying me, but that underlying anger was always there. Waiting. Lucian’s gift seemed to have unlocked that old hatred, spinning it a hundredfold. Damn. What had that bastard done to me?

  “Ease it down, Rowyn,” said Gareth, but I was barely listening as I watched the gold and black threads playing along my hands, enjoying the slip of adrenaline rush I felt.

  I was going to burn Lucian with it. Kill or be killed, echoed in my mind. I wouldn’t be his demon puppet.

  “Rowyn?” called the elf. “You need to reel in your emotions. Let go of your anger. Rowyn?”

  It’s beautiful, I thought, as I watched the energy spindle across and around my fingers. How can something so beautiful be bad? It wasn’t bad. It was beautiful and strong. It was pow
er. And it was mine.

  “Easy, Rowyn,” said Gareth, eyes wide as though he felt something in me shift.

  I reached out for the darkness because it wanted me to. It was my gift, all of it. Mine. I could do what I wanted with it. It belonged to me. I could call it back, control it.

  Gareth stared at me. “Rowyn, no!” he cried as if knowing what I was going to do.

  Extending my will to my gift, to my darkness, I smiled and wrapped my will around it. And when I had it all, when I felt I had every last drop, I pushed—

  My head flung back and I screamed as the darkness welled inside me in a rush. With the sensation of fire, the demonic energy bounded in my mind as if it were alive. It wanted to be set free. It wanted to kill. Fury overwhelmed me, a naked lust for the kill.

  I was invincible, unstoppable. I could the feel power in my arms and hands, the raw power of the demonic energy coursing through me, sharpening my senses, wild and unyielding. I let out a laugh as two balls of raw demonic energy formed in my palms. Why shouldn’t I enjoy myself in this darkness? This was my gift, mine alone.

  And I was going to use this power as I saw fit, everything else be damned.

  At my will, my twin balls of energy leapt up from my palms and shot across the apartment, lighting it as though it was daylight.

  A terrible cry went up.

  I whirled around, and still I pulled on the darkness, taking it into myself. When I saw Gareth’s face, the horror and fear on it, the fire that laced up the drapes and the couch, I felt a pull on my chi. With an abrupt tug, the tingles of darkness quit. The power was gone.

  “Oh my God, I could have killed you,” I whispered, horrified, my throat throbbing as I felt the blood leave my face. Nice going, Rowyn. That’s how you scare away the men with your crazy ass.

  The elf shook his head. “No. It’s why I have my coat on.” I’d seen how his trench coat had acted like some sort of shield against Ethan’s magic. Gareth leaped over to the couch and flung a handful of white dust over the fire, and another over the drapes. There was a sudden pop, and the fire went out in a cloud of black smoke.