West (A Darkness Series Novel)

by Stacey Marie Brown

  My legs took me across Lars’s property into the forest. I curled over, the beast tickling under my skin. Pain shot up my back and down my limbs. I crumpled to the ground with a gasp. Turning had never been especially comfortable, but it hadn’t been this painful. It was part of my nature as a Dark Dweller.

  Except now it had changed. My muscles twisted in agony. They wanted to stretch and grow into their familiar form, but stabs of anguish rippled through, keeping them from doing what they wanted to do. My body withered on the ground, tears seeping out the corners of my eyes. Since being held in the Seelie dungeons, I had only changed a handful of times, and each time was harder. At first I could ignore the pain, but now it crippled me.

  “No!” I growled. I grabbed my wrist and put all my energy into changing my hands into claws. Torment shredded my arm, and I clamped my jaws together. I pushed harder. Sweat poured down my face. Nails sprang from the tips of my fingers; black sleek fur covered my deformed hand. A paw started to emerge. For one moment my human hand dissolved and became a beast’s razor-sharp claw. Then it was gone. I couldn’t even hold the shape for more than a few seconds.

  My chest burned. Rez was right about one thing. I was a fraud. Nothing about me was true anymore. My entire identity was gone. I was no longer a Dark Dweller.

  I had been locked in the dungeons for months, years to those on earth, with metal spikes digging into my throat, depleting my blood and magic. Dark fae can’t be on the Light side for a long period of time without side effects. When I say side effects, I mean permanent ones, even death. Somehow I survived. Deep down I knew the reason had to do a lot with a certain girl—one with black-and-red-streaked hair.

  Ember.

  For a long time I thought she was merely in my head and I dreamed her next to me, touching my face. But the raven, Grimmel, would say something later and make me think she must have been there. She could put herself in a place in real life and actual time in a dreamwalk, but not physical form. I could not see or interact with her but the raven could.

  I never told her she was a huge reason why I was still breathing. Why every time I closed my eyes wishing for death to take me, I would force them back open and hold on another day.

  My thoughts would start out on Ember, but my mind would slowly shift to another. A woman with long, golden, wavy hair, soft brown eyes, and a southern accent and smile that could still bring me to my knees. A girl my heart reached for at night—whom I saw in my dreams so clearly I forgot she was no longer part of this world.

  She was dead because of me—because I let her get too close.

  A roar broke through the night, and the ground and trees shuddered with my grief.

  Oxygen huffed in and out as I lay there. The physical pain was a thin shell compared to the agony inside. I couldn’t even stay in my beast form at all now. The beast was slipping further and further away, tearing a hole into my soul.

  I felt empty.

  Worthless.

  I stopped liking the man I was a long time ago. Now I couldn’t even revel in hiding behind the dweller.

  This made me want to run again like I had when we first came to Earth, leaving my group in the Northwest and traveling in the States. Anger and frustration had invoked the need to get away—to be by myself. Not a normal Dark Dweller trait. But my mother, Ciara, never set me up to be normal. She was the free spirit of the tribe. The one who would leave me when I was a baby in someone else’s care and take off for days to be “free” with nature. This only got worse when I was two, after my father died. Like mother, like son, I guess.

  My mom died when our clan was attacked by the Dae in the Otherworld. I had no brothers or sisters, which was also another abnormal trait for Dark Dwellers. Knowing my mother, there had been no plans for more. One child held her back enough.

  Now, staring at the night sky, my breath coiled in the air, and the cold numbed my body. I liked feeling numb.

  A bolt of green light darted across the sky, like a shooting star. I sat up with a jolt. I knew it was no star. The green ball curved down, crashing into the force field Lars had spelled around his property, crackling along it like veins.

  I heard a faraway battle cry, sinking my stomach. Then the sky ignited with luminous emerald light. As if it were raining, hundreds of small spheres the size of baseballs smashed against the protective barrier, sputtering and splintering the shield like it was glass. Contrasting magic drove against each other. The sizzling noise crackled against my skin.

  Holy shit. We’re under attack.

  Rez! Marguerite!

  I jumped to my feet and ran toward the house. Shouts came barreling at me from all around as Lars’s men sped for the property line.

  Who the hell would attack the Unseelie King’s compound? Whose balls were that big? Individuals had challenged him but never bluntly attacked his complex. No magic could ever counter what he had over his land. Right?

  More waves of magic pummeled down on the shield. Loud pops and snaps sliced over the surface, but it held in place.

  I gritted my teeth as the manor came into view between the trees. As I ran for the house, more and more men darted past me, rushing to defend their King’s property. The beast only wanted to protect who was in it. I tore down the drive, my eyes locked on the door. It swung open as Rez and Marguerite scuttled frantically out, their gazes locked on the glowing sky. The buzzing overhead grew louder, the raid battering more intense.

  “What are you doing? Get back in the house!” I yelled.

  Rez’s head snapped to me, relief filling her eyes.

  “Oh, thank the gods. I thought you were out there. Maybe caught.”

  “I’m here…now get back in there,” I responded. I pointed to the house and turned to follow the men to the border.

  “Wouldn’t that be their target?” Rez reached for me. “Wouldn’t we be safer with you?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “Where is Lars?”

  “He ran to see what was going on.” She pointed into the night. “Goran is going to freak out he’s out there.”

  “You ladies go back into the house. I’m going to go see what’s happening.” I turned to leave.

  Rez’s fingers dug into my skin. “I’m coming with you.”

  “No. You aren’t.”

  “Yes. I. Am.”

  “Fuck, sweetheart. I don’t have time to bicker with you.”

  “Then stop wasting our time,” she exclaimed and squeezed Marguerite’s hand. “Stay in the house and if anything happens...” She paused. “Go into the basement. You know the room. You’ll be safe there.”

  Marguerite nodded, looking back and forth between us, and hustled for the house.

  “What room?” I asked as we started moving toward the fighting.

  “It’s a room designed against nuclear blast, magic attacks, chemical warfare, or any other assault against the King.”

  Damn. “Stay close, darlin’.” I headed toward the gates. Lars was not my favorite person in the world, but he was still our King and I respected him. I preferred the devil, a demon in Lars’s case, I knew…and I would protect him if it came down to it.

  We reached the gate, pushing past a few of the guards. Rimmon was gone from his post, probably already after the attackers.

  My fingers wrapped around the metal, my gaze focused on the darkness past the border. The green glow illuminated the grounds in the distance. My mouth dropped open. Thousands of strighoul lined up, each carrying a sling containing magic orbs.

  “Strighoul?” Rez exclaimed next to me. “They are not smart enough to pull off an attack like this.”

  “No, they aren’t.” My eyes weaved among them all. “They must have help.” They were the bottom feeders in the fae world. Stupid and ugly as hell with teeth like thousands of tiny jagged blades. They were a kind of cross between ghouls and vampires. They ate fae to possess their powers, showing little interest in humans.

  Since the fall of the walls between the worlds, strighoul had been a prick up our
butts. Their numbers were growing, and so was their confidence. They were now openly attacking groups of humans and fae. Taunting. But it was still a far cry from boldly striking at the King.

  I pushed away from the gate and went deeper into Lars’s land, edging the border to see how far the line of strighoul went. Rez strode quietly beside me, taking in the thousands of carnivores ringing the property. We passed strategically placed men holding their positions, probably awaiting word from a commander.

  “Shit.” I rubbed my forehead. There were so many more than I thought, but finally the end of the mass came, and I moved closer to the line.

  “Hey.” I spotted one of Lars’s men at the edge of the property behind some trees. Travil, I think his name was. The King lost a lot of men in the war against the Queen and a few had gotten “bumped” in their positions because of the sudden gaps. Travil was promoted from night guard to private guard of the King in the last year. “What’s going on?”

  Travil jerked his head to look at me, his body tense, gripping his bow and arrow, if that’s what you wanted to call it. It looked more like some modern torture device although it was high-tech and probably could slice a grape from a mile away. He was a large, dark-haired brute of a man, and had the kind of face so serious and stony you could never imagine him cracking a joke or laughing. Ever.

  “She shouldn’t be out here.” His little eyes squinted so much they appeared closed. But I knew not to be fooled; his eyesight was like a hawk’s, along with his hearing.

  “Tell her that,” I scoffed, approaching him.

  “I can decide for myself where I should or shouldn’t be.” She cocked her head and stared at Travil. She held much more authority than he did and he knew it.

  He flicked his head back to the open field with a snarl, aiming his bow and arrow out. I was about to ask what he could see when flames of strighoul energy plunged into the air and arched down on the compound like missiles.

  The night sky lit up and the protection spell sputtered at the intrusion.

  “What is the plan?” I kept my eyes locked on the outlines.

  “We’re getting in place now. Goran will give us the word, then we attack,” he grumbled. “It won’t take us long to cut through them.”

  More waves came crashing down on the barrier, setting the hair on my arms straight up.

  “We’re all in place, sir,” a voice crackled over a walkie-talkie on Travil’s shoulder. I recognized Goran’s voice.

  “All right. On my count.”

  “One.”

  “Two.” Anticipation nipped at the air.

  “Three!”

  Energy sung like a choir, but Lars’s men were soundless and deadly, rushing over the boundary like ninjas.

  Everything in my body thumped with the need to follow. To become what I was good at: a silent killer. I couldn’t stay behind. I was a fucking Dark Dweller. I was used to slicing throats and ripping apart bodies in seconds. I was not meant for the sidelines.

  “West?” Rez called me just as I stepped forward. My shoulders hunched forward, and a growl vibrated my tongue.

  “Stay here!” I commanded and slipped past the spell, magic pumping the blood in my veins faster.

  Kill. Kill. Kill, the beast chanted, hearing the sounds of death already breaking through the night. The wails of slaughtered strighoul enhanced my need for blood, my craving the high of a kill.

  The beast wanted to play. It rocketed to the surface like a charging bull. My legs crumpled underneath me, and I crashed to the ground with crippling aches.

  No. This was not going to happen again. I could shift. I would make myself this time. It was no longer even about the fight. I was going to change simply to know I still could. The noises of metal slicing through flesh, the crunch of men colliding in rage, spiked my beast with a need to join.

  Shift! Now!

  My face slid into the dirt, my insides cramping. I gritted my teeth in pain. Only hair sprouted on my arms this time before retreating. I rolled onto my back. The beast wanted to come out no matter what. It slammed desperately against the blockade within. The more it was denied, the more it hit back, bruising my muscles from the inside.

  My voice wedged in my throat, and spots corrupted my vision.

  I stared at the stars, colors bursting in vivid shades, the clamors of battle and death echoing in my ears. And I lay there like a newborn. Vulnerable and useless.

  Unbearable agony overtook me and forced me to hide under the comfort of oblivion, away from the pain.

  When I woke, silence encompassed me. I heard no clashes of combat or killing. I also sensed I was alone in the field. There may have been no sounds of death, but the smell of blood, guts, and flesh drenched the area.

  It was clear Lars had won, not that I had any doubt. From what I could see by the outlines, more than half of the strighoul were now fertilizer. With a groan, I sat up, my muscles sore from constricting. I glanced around. The field was clear of living strighoul, but hundreds of lumps scattered the field in permanent sleep.

  Don’t fuck with the King.

  Incense, embarrassment, and self-hatred quarreled inside me, pushing me back on my feet. The disgust at myself, the fact I didn’t even help fight but passed out like a wasted frat boy, roused my fury. People danced and partied around me, having the best night, while I drooled and puked on myself.

  “Dammit!” The word burst from me. I bent over my legs and hauled in deep breaths. It took me a while to calm down, and the only reason I shoved down my loathing was the thought of Rez and Marguerite. I needed to see if they were all right.

  I turned toward the compound, or the direction I thought it was, but the more I thought about where they were or how to get to it, the more confused I became. Right. Once you left the protective shell of Lars’s property, you couldn’t get back in unless you were linked in with a spell. There were probably just a few who were. I was definitely not one of them.

  “Screw this.” I spun the other way and proceeded into the forest. Rez and Marguerite had been inside the barriers and had a ton of people watching over them. Rez was the King’s mistress, not mine. He could worry about her. I needed a fuckin’ drink.

  Mike’s Bar reopened quickly after the war. In this new world where nymphs, trolls, and humans mixed, the demand for alcohol was even more crucial. Mike’s had been a hangout for the seedy and outlaws and had mostly served humans. Now most of the customers consisted of Dark fae underbelly and the scum of the human world.

  Strangely, I missed the old place. Early on, our clan had made it clear no one fucked with Mike. He was a human under our protection who had helped us so many times it was second nature to take care of him. Since no one wanted a Dark Dweller on their ass, they treated Mike and any other human clientele who ventured in with respect. Rules were bending now, resulting in less respect and fear, and there were always punks pushing the envelope, seeing how far they could go.

  Mike’s Bar was stuffed full of all types of degenerates by the time I got there, the hour well past midnight. Mike took one look at me and poured me a triple whiskey. “Thanks, Mike. You’re a good man.”

  I tossed it back in a gulp and nodded for another. Brown liquid pooled in my glass as Mike refilled it, then went to take care of other customers. I glanced up at the multiple versions of myself in the mirror behind the bar. The glass was still splintered from when Eli had punched it years before when Ember had disappeared and he thought she was dead. After that, he had changed into his beast form for two years. It was as if he lost a piece of himself when she was gone.

  I could relate.

  Anger bristled along the ridge of my shoulders, needing release. I needed to fight. My eyes caught a pair of blue eyes in the mirror, full of need. Or maybe fuck.

  The woman could have been really pretty. She had long brown hair and a nice enough body, but a hard life and probably drugs and alcohol zapped the youth from her face and eyes. She was only about thirty, but her face looked like a map of leathered lines.
I had done her a couple months back and ever since she had sought me out, purring in my lap every time she saw me.

  I normally didn’t go back to the same woman, but tonight I needed to take the edge off, and there would be no chase here. I set down my glass, stood, and walked for the back door, my gaze only landing on hers once.

  She practically squealed and followed me out to the alley, where the musky smell of garbage, stale alcohol, and rats doused the lane. I didn’t say a word as I grabbed her arms and turned her facing the dirty ally wall, pushed the leather skirt up to her hips. Bare beneath, no undies; she had come here for this.

  I never learned her name, nor did I want to. She was using me too, and I was more than okay with that. The anger inside was like a razor, slicing, the darkness oozing out.

  “Call me darlin’,” she whimpered as I undid my pants, pulling myself out.

  I didn’t want to talk. I wanted nothing more than to be the beast I could not shift into. But one word whispered in her ear, and she was so wet for me it made my job much easier. No foreplay or lead-up needed. I thrust into her and she groaned and arched her back. The more I plunged into her, the more the darkness swirled, sweeping away my thoughts.

  Her screams and whimpers became background noise. I was not even in the vicinity of gentle. My beast did not seem to care for my choice of victim, leading my release further from my grasp, driving me harder.

  She held on to the wall, trying to keep upright, her cries loud and crude. She spoke, but I didn’t hear a word she said. I felt her clamping around me. She was about to orgasm, and I was nowhere near relief. My annoyance flamed.

  She bellowed, and I knew she’d gone over the edge. I didn’t stop, only drove harder, jealous of not getting the same. Dammit! Just let go, I screamed at myself. It didn’t help. I roared with ire, grabbing some of her hair and yanking it back.

  Then an image flashed in my brain, gripping my chest. Someone else with long brown hair, her body bending over for me, taking the brunt of my abuse with moans. My dick tensed, heat and blood slamming into it, ready to burst.