Darkness Fair (The Dark Cycle Book 2)

by Marks, Rachel A.

  Rebecca leans away from me, like she’s trying to get away from my words. “I thought you killed it.”

  “No, my sister exiled it, or I thought she did. The day Lester hurt you—I watched the demon go.”

  “Why do you think it’s back?” Connor asks, glancing over to Rebecca.

  I shake my head and find myself at a loss for words again. So instead of explaining, I opt to stay focused on what the demon’s return means for Rebecca. “If you keep your amulet on and I keep mine, it won’t be able to find us.”

  If Hunger is back, it’s a complication, but as long as the beast focuses on me, then it’ll be fine. All I’ll need to do is sneak up on it with a nice sharp blade . . .

  Just thinking about gutting the thing thrills me. I would so love to get my hands on the beast that killed Rebecca’s brother. And at the moment, I feel like I have nothing to lose.

  I died. I was dead. Again.

  My throat stings at the memory of it all, the visceral echo of the agony from the claws tearing open my stomach, from the demon’s beak stabbing through my chest. A strange helplessness fills me as I realize . . . I’m stuck. Not even being ripped to shreds by a demon can save me from this path I’m on. Not even a horrifying death can help me find an escape. For some reason, I’m trapped here, in the madness that my existence created. I’m caged in the flesh, unable to stop what’s coming . . . The Cycle of Darkness has now begun.

  TWENTY-NINE

  Aidan

  I head upstairs to my bedroom, exhaustion and confusion a lead blanket on my shoulders. I need sleep. A lot of it.

  But I find myself pushing open Kara’s door instead of my own.

  Her blinds are closed, keeping the streetlights out. I hear her steady breathing, see the shape of her body on the bed. I want to climb into the sheets beside her, even if it’s not right. She’s the only one who can quiet this storm inside of me. She’s the only one who makes me feel like I have a choice in all this mess. It’s selfish as hell but I need her.

  So I close the door behind me and sit down on the wood floor, leaning against the wall beside her bed. The darkness coats me and I close my eyes, listening to her sleep, trying to feel for her energy.

  After a few minutes her body shifts and I hear the sound of sliding sheets. “Aidan?”

  “Sorry,” I say. “I’ll leave in a minute. Just sleep.”

  “What’s wrong?” She sits up and climbs out of bed, coming to stand over me. “Are you okay?”

  The soft tone of her voice, the concern in it, breaks my resolve to not burden her with any of it tonight. “I don’t know,” I whisper.

  She kneels in front of me and reaches over to turn on the lamp beside the bed. The soft light reveals her worried expression. “What happened?”

  I have to say it. I have to make it real. “I died.”

  The air goes still with fear. “What?” she breathes.

  “A demon, it . . .” I shake my head, not able to find the words for the memory, “but I came back.”

  She looks me over, her eyes wide and full of emotions. “Where?”

  “What?”

  “Where were you hurt? I don’t see any new cuts or anything.”

  I pull my shirt over my head and set it on the floor. Then I shift so the light shines on my side where the demon’s claw dug the deepest.

  “Oh, Aidan—” Her hand covers her mouth, tears glistening in her eyes.

  “They’re just scars.”

  She nods, a tear sliding down her cheek.

  “I’m fine, Kara.” I feel the need to say it out loud even though it’s not really true. “I’m okay.”

  “Your poor body,” she says, touching my healed wounds, her fingers gentle. “The scars are so big. There are so many of them . . . What kind of demon did this?”

  “A corporeal one. Midlevel. Huge.”

  “My God.” She comes closer, her side leaning on mine as she touches her lips to my shoulder, warming my chilled skin.

  I soak in her touch as she traces her fingers over my hair. “There’s no blood.”

  “I woke up and it was all just . . . gone.” My voice sounds casual, but when the memory of talons and tearing flesh flashes, the stark violence of the event jars me again and I shiver.

  She moves around to study my face, my neck, my arms, like she’s searching for more scars. Her face is so lovely, so real, her scent like honey and warmth. She’s only in a tank top and underwear, so much of her skin ready to touch mine, ready to heal my heart, my soul.

  I reach out and slide my fingers up her leg to her hip. “I need you, Kara,” I whisper, like a confession. As much as I don’t understand my life, my world right now . . . this, Kara and me, when we’re together, I get it.

  She answers with her own touch, running her palm up my arm, then trailing her fingers over my clavicle. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I’m sorry that things are so mixed up right now. I should’ve told you what I’ve been dealing with right away, but I was scared that—”

  I stop her repentance with my lips.

  She releases a small sound of surprise as I let her feel my greed. But then she’s surrendering, pressing into me.

  So I take more, pulling her closer, dragging her onto my lap. She wraps herself around me and I grip her hips. I trace the curve of her waist, kissing her until my death doesn’t matter, nothing does—not even breathing—if she’s not with me. I’m completely lost in the sensations of her, her smell, her sounds, and I know she’s following me into the chaos, into the swirl of need and hunger and desperation.

  She holds on to me like a raft in a storm. I close my eyes and taste my fear on her lips. I feel my pain in her skin as she pulls it from me, as she seals my inner wounds with her hands, sliding them over my face, down my chest and scarred sides. I think about her blue light, how it poured into me, wondering if this is how she felt, released, unburdened. Or if I was actually hurting her, stealing something from her, taking parts of her I wasn’t meant to have.

  The chill of her sweet energy weaves over us as she envelops me. And I know that if I open my eyes right now, I would see it, twisting around our bodies. But I don’t open my eyes, I don’t let myself think about what we’re doing, what it could mean, or how I shouldn’t let this happen before I understand everything.

  I don’t care. I only need. I bury the worries, the reality of what I don’t know.

  I pull her down to the rug, clutching her to me as the barriers fall, as we shed our clothes, shed our inhibitions. My mind tells me to slow down, my heart tells me not to hurt her, and I ready myself to pull away before she shrinks back in fear.

  But she doesn’t waver. She kisses my scarred skin. She tells me she needs me. And nothing in her hesitates. Her breath, her flush of desperation echoes her words, like a voice far off, calling out for me to save her.

  So I stare over the edge and let myself fall.

  I watch the wave curl and crash in a white rush. It sprays salt and sand outward, then slides its way up the beach, closer and closer, until it touches my toes and wraps around my ankles, rising to my thighs in a surge. The chill of the water stings at my legs; the sand under my feet shifts as the tide stops and begins its return to the sea. My jeans stick to my skin. The salt tingles in my nostrils.

  But the water doesn’t return. I stand, damp and cold, watching the fog, waiting for the ocean to rise again. To come back to me. Same as before. Over and over. The rhythm of back and forth, the song of always.

  Instead, the beats of my heart count the time, and nothing happens.

  Until the fog shifts, gathering, forming into something. Someone. The smell of brine turning into the scent of death, becoming rot and ruin and flesh decaying into earth.

  And there. The fog becomes a living thing. Becomes my sin.

  Lester.

  He stands where the waves should be. A white form of the boy he once was. Only a memory now.

  He lifts a smoky arm and points to something behind me. His mouth opens in a si
lent scream that vibrates the ground beneath my feet. But I feel the meaning, the message, as I turn to look, knees shaking. I see the cave opening. See it growing, wider and wider, until the darkness of it becomes everything, swallowing my whole world.

  A skull rolls from the cave, coming to stop beside my foot. And then another and another, until they’re spilling from the opening like a river of death.

  “Look what you’ve done!” he screams over the clacking of bone. “Look what you’ve done!”

  THIRTY

  Rebecca

  There’s no way to process or understand it all. There just isn’t. Does that man—Aidan’s father—really know my future? And now Aidan says that demon from before is somewhere close again. What did he call the thing? Hunger? Shivers roll over me and I hug my legs to my chest, snuggling deeper into my blankets.

  I’m lying here, watching Connor sleep sitting up, as I try to sort everything out in my mind. But order isn’t exactly happening. Nothing’s going into its proper place. Nothing fits. My head aches from trying. There’s been a strange pain behind my eyes since Aidan’s father touched my forehead with oil, and it just keeps getting more horrible the longer I lie here, thinking about everything. I consider taking one of the little blue pills that the psychiatrist prescribed for my “depression” and “anxiety,” but I hate how they make me feel. Or not feel, I should say.

  I just need food. Or a run. I need something.

  Holly was up a while ago, off to summer school, so I can’t convince her to distract me. She wasn’t happy about our intruder, Connor, but I convinced her to leave him in his awkward position and let him sleep. Of course, Connor would probably prefer his bed to the way he’s “sleeping” right now, on Holly’s Hello Kitty desk chair with his feet propped up on the foot of my bed. He’s being a horrible watchdog, in this state.

  And I’m sick of lying here, thinking the same things over and over.

  “Hey.” I sit up and tap his foot. He has really long toes.

  He grunts, annoyed.

  “Take me somewhere.”

  His eyes open halfway and he gives me a what is wrong with you? look.

  “Don’t you have class today?” he asks. “At some rich-kid music academy?”

  “There’s no way I can pretend I’m normal after last night.”

  He just looks at me like he’s not sure what to do with me.

  “I know. I’m a hilarious mess. Can you please take me out? If not now, later, after you get some sleep? Maybe to the mall or something?”

  He rolls his eyes.

  “Or the beach, maybe?”

  He tilts his head like he might actually be considering that request.

  “Yes!” I say, feeling like I hit the right note. “You can surf. We both can!”

  His eyes widen. “You surf?”

  “Don’t look so shocked, Bodyguard. I’m a CaliGirl.”

  He’s still looking at me like he’s not buying it.

  “Okay, fine, I surf a little.”

  “Enough to kill yourself, probably.”

  “You can teach me, then. Charlie was—” I stop, my throat clogging up. I try to force it all deep down again, shaking myself back into focus. “I mean, I just need a refresher.”

  He’s studying me like he does, with those honest eyes. “Okay, we can go for a little while. But I have to be back this afternoon to check on a job.”

  I smile in victory, feeling thrilled to be doing something totally normal and familiar in the midst of all the crazy.

  “You shower. And I’ll find a bathing suit in Holly’s closet.”

  “Calm down, CaliGirl,” he says, trying to hide a smile as he stands up, stretching. “It’s just some saltwater and sand.” He’s even taller as he reaches up like a cat in the sun. I try not to notice the small strip of flesh that shows at his belly.

  I move to Holly’s closet in case I blush. “I can get ready quick, so don’t be a diva in the shower.”

  “I’m getting in the ocean. I don’t need a shower.”

  I turn back to him, giving him a look that says I disagree. “After being at the club last night? Aren’t you feeling sticky?”

  He shrugs.

  “Well, I’m showering.” I turn back to the closet, opening a drawer to start my search. “Last night was just too . . . ick.” Between sweating on the dance floor, then having my head anointed by some mysterious Aidan-double, I feel like I’ll need to turn inside out to get clean.

  “There’s a drought, you know. It’s polite to try saving water.”

  I spot polka dots and pull a bikini top from a tangle of underwear. “It’s also polite not to smell like a dead rat.” I hold up the top and wave it at him. “Now leave so I can do girl things.”

  Connor’s gaze averts and he looks uncomfortable. He slips on his flip-flops, mumbling, “Right,” before turning to leave the room. “I’ll load up the Jeep.”

  THIRTY-ONE

  Aidan

  I wake in a rush, my skin chilled and damp, as if I really was standing in the tide a moment ago, like it wasn’t a dream.

  Lester . . . the sight of him like that, tortured, lost . . . It makes everything in me shake. The vision replays over and over in my mind.

  Look what you’ve done!

  It echoes, making the brands on my soul burn. Memories circle me like a beast ready to devour me again. My dagger sliding into Lester’s neck, my palms coated in his blood. Ava’s blood on my hands as I pull the blade from her tiny chest. My mother’s blood, a dark shadow spreading over my life. So much blood. So many things gone wrong.

  I turn over and look at Kara, making sure last night wasn’t a dream. The bad memories begin to fade as I study her.

  She’s facing away from me, the curves of her body outlined by the sheet. Perfection I can hold in my hands. I want to touch her but I don’t want to wake her. There are too many emotions inside me right now. Wonder and remorse, amazement and guilt; it’s all jumbled, thinking of what we did.

  What I want to do again.

  What we never should’ve done in the first place.

  Afterward, there was a moment when I thought she was going to cry, but she just clung to me and kissed me, and all I could do was hold her in amazement. The terrified girl I kissed that night a month ago seemed to have disappeared entirely. She was all warmth and hunger beside me in the darkness. The only sorrow and pain in that bed was my own. I don’t know why or how, but this time it was Kara comforting me. Her heart seemed unburdened, even as I handed her my own troubles, telling her what had happened, every detail I’ve been obsessing over, everything that’s taken me captive. I even told her about the way her energy spilled into my chest. She listened and kissed me and told me not to worry, that things aren’t always what they seem.

  She kissed me until I was falling into her all over again. This time I tried not to rush, I wanted to make each touch count, each breath mean something, until I drifted off to sleep, entwined in her arms. And as I sank into dreams, I released the weight of my past that I’ve held tight. The need to hide myself faded a little more.

  That was last night. And it was amazing. But now the sun is rising and I’m opening my eyes to the stark reality of what I’ve done. How I’ve made a promise, even if I didn’t mean to. I’ve claimed Kara for myself now, in more ways than spiritual ones. And she’s claimed me.

  We’ve challenged Fate again.

  But I want the weight of our choice not to matter. I want to press forward with her, be with her. Again and again. And yet, I know that can’t happen. Not until we figure out what’s going on with her—what’s going on with both of us.

  I shift closer, touching her shoulder, my chest tightening as I realize I’ve surrendered my heart to her, more than she’ll ever know. My lips follow my fingers along her skin, and I try to think of how to show her what I’m feeling, really show her.

  She sighs and scoots back against me. I brush her hair from her neck, kissing the small birthmark at her nape. “Kara,” I whis
per, reaching around to slide my palm over her belly and hug her against me. “Are you awake?”

  She sighs again and then her breath catches as her body jerks, like she’s in pain.

  I back away a little. “What’s wrong?”

  She rolls over. Blood leaks from the corner of her eye to stain the pillow.

  All the air leaves my lungs.

  Another drop spills from her ear.

  “My head,” she says, her words muddy. “It’s . . .” She lifts her hand to her temple. “God, it’s pounding.”

  I stare in disbelief and horror; it’s happening again.

  “Ah, God . . .” She hisses air through her teeth, and both hands go to her head. Pain creases her features, pinches her mouth. And more blood leaks from her ear.

  “Kara,” I reach out, not knowing what to do.

  I grip her shoulder as she shivers and presses into my chest with a whimper. “It hurts.”

  Dread rises up and beats at the inside of my chest. I press my palm into her back, my mind spinning, horrifying thoughts roiling inside me. How could I . . . how could I have let my guard down for even a second?

  After a few torturous moments of her trembling against me, her skin chills under my touch and she begins to still.

  And then she goes totally limp in my arms.

  My heart stops. I shift back, trying to see her face. It physically hurts to look at her; the blood spilling onto her cheeks from her eyes; her slack mouth. But I can feel her pulse in her neck.

  Don’t you dare leave me, Kara.

  I settle her into the bed before running to get Sid.

  She’s still passed out when Sid and I get back to the room. I have some myrrh oil in my pocket; I’m hoping it’ll help her spirit feel safe. Holly comes in with a rag to wash Kara’s face. Jax just leans on the doorjamb, looking more serious than I’ve ever seen him.

  I consider calling Connor, who’s apparently off surfing, but decide to wait and see what happens. There’s nothing he can do. Last time, she woke up fine. And if he’s with Rebecca, having a simple day . . . those are so few and far between for all of us. After what went down last night, I can give him a few more hours to be normal and blissfully unaware.