Dark Gift

by Kim Richardson

  “This is so freaking weird,” muttered the cat, and I had to agree with him.

  “Rowyn,” said Lucian, and I could sense some pleading in his tone, which freaked me out more because it actually sounded like he cared. “Sooner or later the angels will come and there will come a time when you won’t be able to fight them. You will die. Accept my gift... and live.”

  I raised an eyebrow at the archdemon. “You want to help me? Why? You don’t even know me.”

  “Think what you will,” said the archdemon through a mouthful of smoke and seemingly displeased by my attitude. “But you are my daughter. My only daughter. And I want to protect you. If you take my gift, you will never have to worry about angels, werewolves or any other miscreant half-breed. Accept my gift,” pressed Lucian, “and you will be my true daughter.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” I said, my eyes narrowing suspiciously.

  His mouth twisted as he sent columns of smoke through his nose. “It means that you will share some of my power,” said Lucian, and I swear I thought I saw some dark, haze-like wings appear from his back for half a second. I blinked and they were gone. His eyes darkened for a moment. “Unimaginable strength and power. Magic. All of it.”

  Interesting. With more power, not only could I stop the angels from trying to kill my ass, but maybe even defeat Lisbeth somehow...

  “Rowyn, don’t,” warned Tyrius, seeing my resolve. That cat knew me far too well. “You don’t understand what he’s giving,” he cautioned. “It’s not a gift. It’s a curse.”

  I pulled my eyes away from the alarmed cat and turned to face the archdemon squarely. “Just so you know,” I said, hands on my hips, “I was a very rebellious child.”

  “I wouldn’t expect anything less from a daughter of mine,” said the archdemon proudly, and Tyrius hit his forehead with his paw.

  My heart pounded madly in my chest. What was I doing? Was actually considering taking a gift from an archdemon who said he was my father? The same one who wanted to get my attention by killing half-breeds and mutilating them? Obviously, the archdemon was mad. But I’d gotten a glimpse of that power.

  My breath slipped from me in a wisp of sound. It was hard not to be flattered. This could be the answer to all my problems...

  “This gift,” I asked, my anxiety surging like a sugar high. “How does it work exactly? I know it doesn’t come wrapped in a box with a giant red bow.”

  “First you must accept it,” said Lucian, clearly pleased, gesturing with the hand that held his cigarette. “Then,” continued the archdemon, his gaze intent. “I simply transfer it to you through me with a single touch.”

  It didn’t sound too bad, but then again, he could be full of crap. “How do I know you’re not lying? How do I know this gift isn’t going to kill me?” I asked, glancing at his bubble of power that was still holding us. Holding us for protection? Or were we trapped and hadn’t figured it out yet? “Witches claim to get their powers through demons, and sooner or later they always end up dead,” I said, looking back at the archdemon. “Or out of their minds. How do I know this power won’t fry my brain?”

  “Yeah, you’re the one who’s fried if you think Rowyn’s going to accept your lame ass gift,” growled Tyrius. He jerked his head at the archdemon and glared at him.

  Lucian’s eyebrows were arched, and he looked bemused. “It won’t. For the simple reason you were intended to handle it.”

  I steeled my face into a bored countenance, though my heart was jackhammering my rib cage. “Excuse me?”

  Lucian’s eyes went to my neck again, and my skin pricked. He flicked the butt of his cigarette, his red eyes moving to the spot in the underbrush where it landed on the ground. “Have you ever wondered why you were not marked with an archangel sigil like the other angel-borns?”

  My eyes narrowed, and my chest tightened into a knot. “Yeah...”

  “It’s because she has demon blood, dumbass,” said Tyrius, clearly irritated. “We already know this. How about you give us the truth or I’m going to pop a hole in your bubble.” He flicked his right paw, and five razor-sharp claws shot out, all pointed to the haze-like barrier.

  The archdemon smiled at Tyrius, surprising me. “Cute pet,” he said. “Though he could use a muzzle.” He looked at me, not seeing Tyrius’s horrified expression.

  “There was a simple reason for that,” explained Lucian as he pulled yet another cigarette from his metal case and put it to his lips. “My blood had an influence on the matter.”

  Tension made my neck muscles ache. I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like the next words out of the archdemon’s mouth. “Which is what?”

  “Lock and key.”

  I shook my head. “Stop giving me your Obi-Wan Kenobi crap and give me a straight answer.” I could see Tyrius sitting beside me, concern in the slant of his eyes.

  A mock-hurt expression came to Lucian’s eyes as he peered at me from under his thick lashes. “An archangel sigil is a mark of ownership—”

  “We know that too,” interrupted Tyrius, and I glared at him to shut up.

  “—a branding,” informed Lucian. The orange glow of his cigarette shone in the semi-darkness as he lit it. “It doesn’t make them special,” chuckled the archdemon. “Au contraire, it marks them as property. The Legion’s property. They own them. The angel-borns are nothing but cattle,” said the archdemon. “Useless slaughter meat. But...” he added and took a step toward me, so close that I could see his skin had no pores. But I refused to move.

  “It is also a protection,” informed the archdemon, and he blew more smoke. “A lock. The sigil locks the body, keeps it from being able to accept, to wield the power from an archdemon—like me, your daddy dearest. And without they key you can’t open it. You can’t unlock the potential.”

  Subconsciously, I moved my hand over my neck. Somehow it all started to make sense. “And your blood did this?”

  “Yes,” the archdemon smiled. “My blood was the key. By removing the sigil, it allows the transfer of your gift. Your power.”

  “Because I’m not branded,” I said, partly to myself as I let this new information sink in.

  “You are free to open yourself and accept what is rightfully yours,” said Lucian, smoke coiling from his lips. “Unmarked, for the sole purpose of granting you the ability to harness this power. Free to receive your gift. Your dark gift.”

  Dark gift. Somehow, I wasn’t frightened but rather, strangely enticed to this idea. Did that make me bad?

  I thought about it. “Do I get wings?” I ventured, smiling. Please say yes. Please say yes.

  A wash of relief rippled over the archdemon’s face. “I am afraid not,” he laughed at me, his eyes dancing in delight as he took another long drag of his cigarette, looking utterly satisfied.

  “Bummer,” I added frowning. Wings would have been awesome. “Hypothetically,” I began again, “if I were to say yes, what would it do to me? Would I become an archdemon like you?”

  “No,” answered Lucian before I had the chance to make a mental image of myself, dark and terrible. “More like what you are now with an added bonus. A day-walking part-archdemon.”

  “Rowyn,” Tyrius said loudly, the alarm in his voice bringing me around. He was suddenly at my feet. “You’re not seriously considering this? Please tell me you’re just pretending for his lame ass’s sake.”

  “I can hear you,” said Lucian, though he looked bored as he flicked more ashes from his cigarette.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know... maybe? Shouldn’t I?” Did that make me evil or just crazy? “If I was stronger, more powerful, I could stop Lisbeth. I could stop the angels from trying to kill me every time I close my eyes. This could be good for me.”

  “And bad,” said Tyrius with desperate worry. “It could be very bad.”

  My chest was heavy with doubt, and my throat was tight. I couldn’t help but wonder, though, what it would feel like to be all-powerful.

  “Rowyn,” said the baal
demon, and the strain in his voice pulled my attention back to him. “I don’t think this gift is such a great idea. Embracing darkness changes someone. Trust me, I know. I’ve seen my share of witches going over to the dark side and never coming back. In fact, it changed them physically, and I’m not talking about an Avon make-over.” Tyrius took a breath and said, “They weren’t themselves anymore.”

  I swallowed, my throat tight.

  A flicker of annoyance flashed across Lucian’s face and a thread of tension entered his stance of prior relaxed idleness.

  The archdemon scowled at Tyrius. “I think I’ve been patient enough with your insolence, demon.” He lifted his hand and all my warning flags went up.

  I stepped in front of Tyrius, blocking him with my body. “You touch him,” I seethed, a ribbon of tension squeezing around my chest, “and we’re going to have a serious problem, Dad.”

  Lucian laughed, but it was tinged with bitterness. “As you wish.” His red eyes landed on me. “You should control your pet before I change my mind and make myself a new fur hat.”

  Tyrius spat and hissed. “Why you red-eyed candy-ass!” The cat lowered himself into a pre-attack stance, his tail slashing behind him and his eyes dilating to almost black.

  “Tyrius!” I nudged him with my boot. “Will you shut up!”

  “Yes, Tyrius,” said Lucian, his eyes narrowed. “Please shut up.”

  The cat growled but stayed silent.

  The archdemon sighed with a mouthful of smoke. “I can’t stay here all night. I have demons to kill... humans to torture. So what will it be, daughter?” he asked with a bright smile.

  “Don’t call me that.” Yikes. Just him saying that word sent an ice-cold chill cascading through my body.

  “Ro-o-o-wyn,” drawled the Lucian. “Choose.”

  “What? Like right now?” My pulse pounded in my head. “Don’t I get a couple of days to think about it?”

  Lucian shook his head. “In a couple of days you will be dead. Tick tock, Rowyn. I intervened tonight with the hope you’d be willing to accept my gift. But I won’t do it again.”

  Fear, or maybe tension, sparked through me. “Is that a threat?” I asked, finding Tyrius’s eyes pleading with me, his fur bristling.

  “A reflection,” replied Lucian, with a sense of finality. “Yes or no.”

  Shit. What the hell was I supposed to do. My eyes went to the archdemon. He scared the crap out of me. And although it was tempting to have a little bit of dark magic, dark power, whatever, he had killed those half-breeds for the simple pleasures of killing. He’d enjoyed it. The dude was insane. If I took that power, I might end up like him. Stupid crazy.

  I met Lucian’s stare. “I can’t accept,” I said, and I saw him frown. “No offense but I don’t know you. And I’d be an idiot if I did.” I’m not that stupid. Got give me some credit. Tyrius let out a huge sigh, which only aggravated the archdemon further.

  Lucian shrugged, a motion that looked too mundane and unnatural on him. “It’s your life,” he said and flicked another cigarette butt on the ground. “And I cannot force you to accept this gift. But without it, you will die.”

  “I’m still alive. Aren’t I?” I stated, trying to sound brave, but I heard the doubt in my own voice. “I’ll take my chances. I’ve been doing okay so far.”

  “You call this okay?” Lucian pointed to the werewolves behind his demonic barrier, which I’d forgotten. “Werewolves are animals. Savages, with an innate instinct to kill. They will track you down and then they will kill you.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Dad,” I said dryly. I shifted on my feet, seeing Tyrius’s tension in his body. “Are you going to let us go?” I gripped my knife. I didn’t trust the bastard. Even less now by the frown and disappointment on his face. He’d expected me to say yes. I didn’t think he’d just let me go. He’d been planning this for a while, years.

  “Of course,” said Lucian, casually.

  “Really?” I didn’t care to hide my surprise. “Just like that?”

  Lucian smiled. “Just like that.” The archdemon snapped his fingers. There was a soft puff of displaced air as energy flew around us like a wind, lifting strands of my hair from around my face. There was a sudden pop of air pressure in my ears, and the scent of sulfur rushed around me.

  I blinked. The barrier bubble was gone.

  Through the break in the trees, I could see the two pyres still alight, tall orange flames flickering above them. The werewolves were still standing around their burning pack members. They never even noticed us.

  And when I moved my gaze back to Lucian, he was gone.

  17

  It was safe to say the ride home came with a rollercoaster of emotions. Not only was Tyrius livid with me for actually considering accepting Lucian’s gift for half a second, but my mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings. My stomach was knotting over this sudden news, my insides tight and cramping. I was either sick or having a panic attack. Maybe both.

  I hadn’t been this confused since my real father, the man who raised me, had sat me down and tried to explain to an eight-year-old me, crying at the time, why I wasn’t marked with an archangel sigil like the rest of the angel-born children or my parents. My poor parents. I’d been practically inconsolable in my misery wanting to be like the other kids—the angel-born. I’d only stopped crying when my father had told me it was because I was special.

  No. Lucian had made it so. Had planned on crafting me into an Unmarked to allow for his gift of darkness.

  I’d been partially right about the Unmarked thing being a result of my demon blood, or rather archdemon blood. But I’d never have thought or guessed in a million years it had to do with allowing the transfer of demonic power, a gift of power, a darkness.

  Crap, this was bad. If the other angel-borns were protected from this demonic power by the sigils, what did that make me? More of a freak?

  Probably. But what if I was meant to have this gift? What if I was supposed to possess this darkness all along? Was this power, this darkness, truly evil? Wasn’t power just pure energy? Strength? It wasn’t good or bad, not until you made it so. And this gift was exactly that. A gift to make me stronger, more powerful, to be special like my real father had told me all those years ago.

  A dark Hunter...

  As it was, Tyrius and I were the only ones who knew what being an Unmarked truly meant, apart from Lucian. I was positive Lisbeth didn’t know. If the old hag didn’t know, it meant the Gray Council didn’t either. Good. I was going to keep it that way. No need to send more crap my way. The crapper was full, thank you very much.

  If I didn’t figure out something fast, I would be blamed for the half-breed killings. Jax had probably figured out that my name was carved into the last victim’s chest by now. Lucian was truly insane if he thought killing innocent half-breeds was the way to go with me. It wasn’t. Hopefully, now that we’d met he’d stop with his madness.

  Not only was I a mess, but to make matters worse, I’d lost the grimoire. Technically, the female werewolf had burned it, but it still meant I’d lost it. Okay, so I didn’t need it to summon Degamon anymore, but I still felt it was a major loss. I’d grown attached to that dark witch grimoire. All those spells I would now have to forgo. I didn’t like it. Without the book, I would never have been able to transform myself into a faerie to get into Sylph Tower and kill the queen. It had given me a lot, and I was sad to see it go.

  Still, Lucian had said he could find me another grimoire. But I wasn’t ready to face the archdemon again. I wasn’t sure what to make of him, of the situation with this gift of his, of him being my other biological dad—a genetic contributor. What if this time he wouldn’t take no for an answer?

  He’d also said that the gift was a “one time only” offer. But somehow, I didn’t believe that was true.

  “Damn, what a night,” expressed Tyrius as he stretched next to me on the passenger’s seat, looking long and regal in his tawny fur and black mas
k. “I almost pulled a muscle.” His blue eyes flashed. “You believe any of that crap he said?”

  “He didn’t try to hurt us or kill us,” I argued. “Maybe he was telling the truth.”

  “Bull,” said the cat. Tyrius’s suspicion coursed through me, confusing me even more. “Demons lie all the time. And archdemons being the first demons that ever were, with them creating all the lesser demons. What does that tell you?”

  “That you’re a liar?” I laughed, and quickly regretted my slip of humor at the scowl on the Siamese’s face. “Okay, bad joke. Can you lighten up a little? I’m the one who has to deal with this. I’m the one with the schizo father who tore up half-breeds all over New York City that I’m most probably going to be blamed for.” I let out a long breath. “You know what I think? I think you believe he was telling the truth. It’s why you were all fidgety like a baal on coffee. You think he’s my father. Don’t you?”

  Tyrius kept his eyes on the road. “He’s a father. Or is it a second father? Or daddy two?” The cat shook his head. “This whole thing is very untoward. I feel like I’m in a bad soap-opera episode where two fathers step forward to claim the kid.”

  I made a face. “My entire life is untoward. Where have you been? And don’t think I haven’t noticed you’re avoiding my question, kitty.”

  The cat shifted on his seat and gave a little sigh. “Okay, fine. I do. Yes, I think he is one of your fathers.”

  “Do I look like him?” I don’t know why that was important to me, but for some reason it was.

  I felt the cat’s eyes inspecting me. “You’re dark like him. The dark hair, your complexion. Your other father was fair and had hazel eyes. But you look like your mother, if that’s any consolation.” It didn’t make me feel any better.

  My eyes jerked back to the road ahead. “And you think accepting his gift would have been a bad idea? Am I right?” I was still on the fence about whether I’d done the right thing. The wiser part of me was terrified of this gift and what it could do to me, and of Lucian. He was an archdemon, for souls’ sakes. But the other part, the stupider half of me—which was me most of the time—was curious and a little mad for wanting to explore what this power meant and what I could become.