Darkness Fair (The Dark Cycle Book 2)

by Marks, Rachel A.

  Connor shoves Jax aside, grabbing my bag like he’s trying to be helpful. But then he says, “This is a bad idea. Isn’t there somewhere else you can stay?”

  “No,” I say through my teeth.

  He slips the strap of my bag over his shoulder and then just stands there and stares at me. It’s a digging stare, like he’s trying to figure me out, not like how guys usually study me. And he’s actually looking at my face. It makes me notice his eyes and how light his eyelashes are, almost white. Something about him reminds me of Charlie. Probably just because he smells like the ocean.

  Okay, I should not have noticed that.

  “Fine,” he says at last. “You’ll bunk with Holly again.”

  I like Holly. She’s totally insane but she’s easy to get along with and not judgmental in the least, unlike my other friends who pick you apart like birds fighting over roadkill.

  “Fine,” I say.

  I follow him up the stairs, into Holly’s room. He sets my bags on the spare bed. “Holly’s at the college. She’s taking summer classes. But she’s usually home around five.”

  “I know,” I say. “We text.” I’ve kept in touch with her a little. “And we’re Facebook friends.” I sit beside my suitcase on the bed. “Where’s everyone else? Are they out investigating something?”

  He doesn’t answer for a few seconds. He folds his arms across his chest, looking me over like I’m a problem. “It’s nothing personal,” he says, his serious tone unnerving me, “but you really don’t belong here. Especially now. There’s too much going on, and all you’ll do is cause trouble.”

  I don’t say anything, unsure how to respond to such a blunt assessment.

  And if that wasn’t enough, he adds, “We don’t have time for any more 90210 high school bullshit.”

  Whoa, low blow. “Are you kidding me? Last time I was here, I got my arm sliced open and nearly died. You think I don’t understand how intense things can be? I just need a freaking place to sleep for a little while.”

  “It’s not as if you can’t afford a room at the Hyatt. You came here to be close to him.”

  “It’s not like that,” I say, feeling like he’s accusing me of a crime or something.

  “Aidan isn’t on the market, Rebecca.”

  Guilt turns to defensive anger. “I don’t deserve the third degree, Connor,” I say, mimicking his derisive tone.

  He pauses at that and his posture changes, a little less aggressive. “Look, I’m sure you’re a nice kid and all, but—”

  “I’m not a kid,” I say, probably with a little more heat than I need to. It’s all so infuriating and mortifying. “I’m perfectly capable of minding my own business and staying out of the way. I’m sixteen, not six, so kiss my butt.”

  He releases a small puff of laughter and his hands go up in surrender. “I get the message. You’re older than the hills and wise as an owl.”

  I want to throw something at his smug face. Who does he think he is, talking to me like this? I’m here, asking for help, and he’s acting like I’m trying to break up the couple of the year. As if he has a say in who I can like or who can like me. What a total a-hole.

  And, for the life of me, I have no sassy comeback to throw at him. Which just infuriates me more.

  His smile fades a little and he moves like he’s going to leave, heading for the door. When he’s right beside me he pauses, only an inch away, and whispers, “I know you could probably have any guy you want. But you’re not going to get this one.”

  He says it like an apology. But I hear it like needles in my heart.

  He moves to the door and before he slips out, he says over his shoulder, “And don’t think he’ll be happy that you’ve come back.”

  ELEVEN

  Aidan

  I have to sit through two cases on Judge Judy before the two women let me off the couch to leave. I finally convince them that I’m fine, I was just dizzy from not eating, which made me trip and hit my head or something, I don’t know. I’m so confused and distracted by everything that Eric said, I just babble until they stop clucking like flustered hens.

  And to keep them from calling 911 or their concierge doctor, I eat two PB&Js and drink a glass of lemonade, a glass of milk, and then somehow manage to get down three Oreos.

  I’m pretty sure I’ll hurl if I move too much.

  Apparently, I was only “passed out” for a few seconds. But I was with Eric for much longer than that. He talked about a whole lot of stuff he didn’t actually explain. Ava’s father is coming and he’s a badass dominion angel of some kind. And he’s pissed. All that was pretty clear. What wasn’t clear was why Ava’s dad is suddenly interested in saving his daughter who he abandoned to Darkness. He’s creating a very large problem by leaving ranks, though. Now parts of the spirit world are breaking into chaos because of it. And as things begin to crumble, everything twisted and nasty on the other side of Sheol is beginning to peek through.

  “Read the journal,” Eric kept saying in answer to my questions about my new role. And also in answer to my questions about how I can save my sister.

  After the fourth time he said it, I pretty much yelled at him that I had been reading the damn journal but I couldn’t find any real information on anything except my new body. He just looked at me stoically and said I wasn’t reading it right and that the most vital thing I needed to know for now was in the first under-passage—whatever that means. Then he touched my head and sent me back to my body before I could ask him anything else.

  He’s been standing behind my great-grandmother’s chair ever since, his body still and his features grave. He said he’s going to protect the house and the souls inside, mark it to warn any other spirits away—including other angels—until I can get the land warded. The demons are apparently going to be drawn here, to the area near the cave, now that the doorway is cracked. Eric made it fairly clear, though, that he’s got better things to do than babysit and watch crime dramas, so I have to hurry. The guy’s turned into a major stiff. A bossy one.

  I’ll need to block the cave opening with more wards, the strongest I can find. And I’ll have to figure out something with Sid to protect Mrs. O’Linn’s house, as well as the beach—something to keep the demons from attempting more spells with any animal carcasses. I’m going to have my work cut out for me over the next few days.

  I make it to the door, the ladies following me. To soothe their worries I take a paper bag of yet more food from Fa’auma. My great-grandmother lectures me about eating better and scolds me for interrupting her “repose.” In spite of her disapproving frown, I can smell her concern for me and feel her hope that I’ll come back soon so she can make sure I’m okay.

  “I’ll see you in a day or two,” I say and lean over, pecking her forehead with a kiss. Her skin is soft and smells like baby shampoo. A wave of affection rolls through me, but I know she’ll hate it if I try for a hug, so I just pat her bony shoulder and step back. “Don’t worry, I’m tough.”

  “Oh, nonsense,” she huffs. “I don’t worry.” But she looks a little flustered from my kiss, touching her pink cheeks as I say my good-byes.

  When I get down to the beach, Sid is gone, but Kara’s sitting outside the cave, waiting for me.

  “Sorry it took so long,” I say. “I just wanted to be sure they were okay.” But instead I chatted it up with my guardian angel, then was force-fed half the peanut butter and jelly in Southern California.

  “Sid had to go wait in the car,” she says. “The pull of the doorway was making him sick.”

  I nod and look down the dark corridor of the cave. The pull doesn’t even feel that strong anymore. Definitely not as strong as it was before Ava went to sleep. I think of what Eric said about Sid not having much time left, and my stomach hurts.

  “The leg the demon dragged in,” I say. “We need to figure out who it . . . goes to.”

  Kara scrunches up her nose. “Ugh. That was just . . . Sid couldn’t be in the cave for more than a second, so he
made me check it to see if there was recent bleeding. Looks like the demon didn’t get the leg off of anyone living.”

  That’s a relief.

  She holds up Ava’s bag and hands it to me. “I picked everything up, so it wouldn’t get lost. I thought you’d want it.”

  I take the worn brown leather satchel, knowing it holds the reason we’re standing here talking about demons ripping off legs: my mom’s grimoire. “Thanks,” I say. Even though I don’t really want it, I need to be sure it stays hidden, too.

  “Is everyone all right up there?” she asks.

  I move away from the cave and look out at the waves. “Yeah, but we have to get to work, putting wards up around this place. Eric said the demons won’t stop coming.”

  “Eric? You saw him?” She’s the only one I told about Eric being an angel. Everyone else still thinks he’s been missing because he’s on some expedition to find illegal loot.

  “Sort of.” I breathe out, feeling tired and stuffed with cookies and sandwiches. I turn and rest my hand on her upper arm, needing a connection to her. “I just have to think. And figure out how to block some of the negative stuff that’s about to come rolling in.”

  “We just got more salt from Costco. And Connor and I can try out some of the rune magic we’ve been learning.”

  “For now, I need to get out of here.” Maybe the gateway’s affecting me, too, because I’m feeling overstimulated and nauseated. Or maybe it was the whole out-of-body-experience thing. Can a guy get motion sick from traveling through space and time in seconds?

  Kara moves closer, reaching out to touch my face. “You don’t look so hot, either.” Her fingers graze my jaw.

  I give her a half smile. “They fed me a few pounds of Wonder Bread and Skippy up there. My hotness may now be buried in layers of PB&J.”

  “Seriously?” She rolls her eyes and slips her arm in mine as we head for the car. “How did I ever fall for a guy who can’t handle a few old ladies doting over him?”

  I pause when we’re halfway up the path. “Wait. Did you say you’ve fallen for me?” I wrap her in my arms, her warmth soothing my raw nerves already.

  She laughs into my chest and tries to pull away, but I don’t let her go. I kiss her temple and grip her by the shoulder as we continue walking.

  I try to hide that I’m using her steadiness to hold me up a little.

  I need to come up with a plan to get this place locked up tight, to protect my great-grandmother and Fa’auma, and Ava. And I have to hope that whatever Ava’s father is planning, it won’t make waking her up impossible.

  Kara drives Sid home in the Mustang. They get back to the house before me; the sleek red classic is parked ahead of me in the driveway. I sit in the warm cab of the Camaro after I pull in behind it, not wanting to go into the house yet. I just need a few more minutes to breathe. And digest—both the six pounds of food in my gut and the fact that I’m facing some kind of possible creepy spiritual jailbreak. After I’ve been sitting and staring at the license plate of the Mustang for a few minutes, my phone vibrates on the seat beside me.

  A text from Kara. You need to come inside. Now.

  I sigh and pull the keys from the ignition, then slide from the car. As I walk along the path to the back of the house, I sense myself being tugged by Sid’s shed, but I ignore the pull. There’s nothing good yanking on me from in there. I breathe past it and walk up the back steps, through the door, into the kitchen.

  “Oh, man,” Jax greets me on his way out. “You’re so screwed.” He pats me on the shoulder as if he’s consoling me.

  He actually seems genuinely concerned, which is unlike him, so I pause. “What’re you talking about?”

  He gives me a sigh and a shake of his head, then says, “Don’t let the females get you down, bro,” as he goes out the back door. I get the feeling he’s making an escape.

  “There you are,” Kara says, coming into the kitchen. She doesn’t look happy.

  “What the heck is going on? What’s wrong with Jax?”

  “Oh, he’s just worried I’m going to murder you.”

  I study her, trying to figure out if she’s kidding. She’s definitely not in the same jolly mood she was in a little bit ago. “Because . . . ?”

  “Because your other girlfriend is going to be living with us for a few weeks.”

  I step back, thrown. “Rebecca?”

  She gives me a look. “The fact that you knew exactly who I was talking about isn’t helping me feel better.”

  “She’s staying here?” Not good. Worlds colliding.

  “So you didn’t know?”

  “No. No way.” Rebecca said she had a surprise for me when she texted about our coffee date—the coffee date I ditched her on yesterday.

  “Well, she’s made herself at home in Holly’s room again. It’s like old times.” She gives me a stiff smile. I take a breath, processing the news. Kara must think the look on my face is panic because she adds, “I guess I can take Monday, Wednesday, Friday, if you’re worried about writing up a new make-out schedule.”

  I laugh, despite the tension coming from her. She’s even cuter when she’s pissed. “You’re hilarious.” I reach out and pull her closer, planting a kiss on the top of her head. “My make-out schedule is all full up.” Her skin warms a little under my palm. I rub my thumb up and down her arm, trying to soothe her, trying to decide how annoyed or worried I need to be about Rebecca joining our house again.

  Talk about bad timing.

  “I really don’t want to be the crazy jealous girlfriend, Aidan,” Kara mumbles, sounding deflated.

  A spark tingles in my chest at her words. “So you’re falling for me and I’m your boyfriend? This is moving pretty fast for me. I don’t know . . .”

  She half-heartedly smacks me on the chest. “Don’t be cute.”

  “Now you’re asking the impossible.”

  I win a small giggle and a sigh that feels like relief. “You’re impossible.”

  “True.”

  TWELVE

  Rebecca

  Holly grabs my hand and pulls me out of our room to the landing. “Listen, you have to face this stuff, KWIM? It’s major bad mojo to keep toxic memories all bunched up inside your head.”

  A second ago I was jitter-talking, and I mentioned a nightmare that I had where this thing that looked like Gollum from The Lord of the Rings was trying to feed me poisoned birthday cake. I thought it was kind of funny and that it would lighten the mood, but I shouldn’t have opened my mouth. Apparently Holly thinks of herself as a home-brew psychologist now that she’s taken three classes at the junior college.

  “The dream is like a window,” she says. “The 411 on your deeper self.”

  “So, I’m scared of The Two Towers? Or cake?” I know she’s hinting that I’m scared of the demons and stuff—of course I am—but I’m not sure this is something I want to be digging deeper into. Not now, anyway. My stomach is all jumbled. I’ve been sitting around for more than an hour, waiting for Aidan to get back home.

  After the Connor confrontation, and seeing the look on Kara’s face when she spotted me a second ago, I’m ready to puke from nerves.

  To say the emo-rocker girl didn’t appear happy would be an understatement. And she’s very intimidating. She seems like a dark Asian faerie or something. Her look is all edges and contrast, with black boots, dark jeans, and an off-the-shoulder Star Wars shirt. Her wide, innocent-looking eyes are juxtaposed against her wild, purple-tinted black hair. And she has about nine dozen piercings in one ear and only one in the other; in my experience a lopsided piercing pattern is usually the sign of not giving a damn. She’s that punk-pretty that only certain girls can pull off.

  Holly acted like it was no big deal when Kara’s glare shot daggers at me. She just calmly explained to Kara why I’m here, as if we’re all the best of friends. I think she was playing it cool on purpose—smoothing over the reintroduction of an old wrinkle.

  Kara wasn’t playing along, though.
I recognized the look on her face. I’ve seen it on the faces of other girls enough to know when I’m an unwanted addition to a group; the look of a threatened diva. As if Kara doesn’t know she could have Aidan worshiping at her feet if she wanted. It bothers me, more than normal jealousy. I swear, it’s not just the average triangle-shaped love scenario. My life is not Twilight—if it was, I guess I’d be Jacob. Totally depressing.

  But it’s not like that. It’s more complicated. More intense. My proof is that I can feel Aidan’s emotions.

  Yes. Feel them. Like I’m me, but I’m him, too. It’s really strange. The first time I noticed it—when I was at the party that night on the beach, and he emerged from the darkness, so concerned about me—I felt his worry, and I thought I was losing my mind. Later, I realized that the strangeness didn’t stop there: Even though I’d never met this guy before, I’d been drawing him for years. Aidan was the angel in my artwork—like I’d been envisioning the future. It was crazy. But also comforting. It made the odd sensation of experiencing his emotions a little more tolerable.

  Not that I ever enjoyed it. Especially the moments when I had to feel his need for Kara—my God, knowing his hunger for her, his desire, that was . . . disturbing. I’m really hoping I can just avoid the two of them together.

  Kara’s in the kitchen now, so I can breathe a little easier. Except for this psycho-testing I’m undergoing with Doctor Holly.

  “Okay, so you were lying there.” She points at the top of the staircase.

  I nod, like I’m listening, but I’m actually trying to figure out if it was a terrible mistake, leaving Samantha’s and coming here.

  “Hey-loo?” Holly sings, waving at my face. “Lay down.”

  This is ridiculous.

  She motions to the top step. “In the spot where it happened.”

  I know she won’t stop babbling about all this nonsense unless I go along with it for a second, so I lie down on the landing and fold my hands over my chest. “What now?” I ask, pretending I’m into it.

  “Well, you RET—replay the emotional trauma, of course.”