Darkness Fair (The Dark Cycle Book 2)

by Marks, Rachel A.

  I open my eyes to her standing over me. She’s lovely and alive, her eyes sparkling silver blue. The familiar cave walls surround us. The altar is behind her, the gateway just three feet to my left.

  Eric is sitting beside me. His muscles are tense as Ava kisses my cheek, and he doesn’t relax them until she moves away again, tucking her violin under her chin, drawing the bow over the strings.

  “Oh, I missed this so much,” she says over the instrument’s sighing.

  “Are you all right?” Eric whispers to me.

  I can breathe, but when I try to speak my throat closes and I choke, coughing.

  “We can’t stay here,” he says close to my ear. “She’s not right, Aidan, something isn’t—”

  The violin stops and Eric swallows his words. A spark of fear lights around us. Eric is afraid? Of Ava?

  She steps closer, studying my throat, then leans down. “You’re not healing,” she says, sounding distraught.

  I manage to say, “Resurrection, it—” but then I break into a fit of coughs, my throat swollen and seared. What did that angel do to me? And how did we get away? I push all my questions into the air.

  She sets the violin on the altar and kneels beside me. “We’re okay. You’re going to heal—won’t you heal?”

  I have no idea.

  “I brought us back here,” Ava says, giving a sideways glance at Eric. “Your guard was being a big baby and wouldn’t do it.”

  Eric begins, “Please, Ava, don’t—”

  She clucks her tongue and holds up a finger, stopping his words. “No, no. You’re just causing trouble. I won’t rip you to shreds like I did that other angel—you’ve saved my brother many times, after all—but I will rip out your tongue just to watch you grow it back.”

  Dread works its cold fingers inside my chest. What did she just say?

  “Oh, don’t be a spoilsport, Aidan.” She opens her hand, her palm facing Eric. “All I want is to be together, just us. He’s a big downer.” She moves her hand up and Eric rises in the air, hovering higher and higher. “Balloon angel.” She giggles and then closes her fingers tight in a fist. Something pops, and Eric’s gone with a suck of air.

  I stare at her, stunned. What’ve you done to him!? What’s wrong with her?

  She turns back to the altar and picks up her violin, then plays a long high note. “I know you like him but he’s really just a stick-in-the-mud. He doesn’t tell you anything. And you deserve to know things. You and I deserve to know what our purpose is and why. Don’t you think?” She draws out several more notes before adding, “He’s fine, though. I just sent him to Egypt. He’ll wink his way back here in no time.”

  The notes spilling from the violin slide up and down, carrying the song into a rhythmic lull as I take in what she’s said, what she’s done.

  I don’t understand. I don’t know what to feel or think, everything is an ache or a bruise inside of me, in my heart and on my skin.

  “Yes, I know,” she says, sighing. “You expected a different sister to come back to you. The sweet, wide-eyed child. But I’m not that sister, am I? I sort of thought I would be, but I’m not.” She shrugs. Oh, well.

  Who are you, then?

  I am the future, she answers with a swell of pride. She closes her eyes, and her body moves as the music’s tempo picks up and she makes it a part of herself. I am the key to the next cycle.

  She pulls the bow hard with a final sharp note and opens her eyes.

  I gasp.

  They’re colorless. No sparkling blue at all. Her irises are white as snow.

  I press hard into the rock wall at my back. Every nerve catches fire with the agony of what I’m seeing. Ava. I heave breath into my lungs, and tears cloud my vision of her. She’s broken. She’s wrong. She’s not my Ava.

  No, I am, she says. Completed and whole.

  I sense movement to my right and turn. Several forms are approaching from the beach, through the shadows of the cave entrance. Sulfur billows into the space, suffocating me even more. Demons. At least a dozen of them.

  I try to move, try to push myself along the wall to get away as they come closer. They don’t seem to even notice me, though, and that’s when I remember my amulet. Ava smiles at them, as if they were little children come to ask for candy. My stomach churns.

  One claw rises over the rest, touching the hem of her shirt. And I can barely believe my eyes; it’s the small demon from the day after the earthquake. The one who ripped the dog to shreds and tried to do a spell by arranging the pieces of its body.

  Ava looks up at me, like she hears my horrified thoughts.

  “Isn’t he wonderful?” she asks. “A bit of a brutal thing, but he’s so loyal.” She reaches out and pats his head. “He tried so hard to bring me back. I met him after I crossed the Veil and he was so helpful, guiding me to the right beings. Do you know how slow time passes on the other side, where the ghosts live? A second lasts an eternity. But it allowed me to learn a lot before those Powers got ahold of me, telling me I was corrupted. I knew this little guy would come through.”

  She moves to the gateway, studying the crack and the black tar leaking from it. “They’re anxious to escape Sheol, see? A few have crossed already.”

  A demon in the group pipes up, rattling off a bunch of noises that I don’t understand at first, because my power is so weak. But after a moment I make sense of it: “He destroyed one. He is Destroyer. Fire and Pain.”

  “Yes, yes, I know,” she says to them as they all grumble their agreements. “But he’s off-limits.” She holds out a palm to them. “Okay, who wants to do the honors?”

  The dog-spell demon twitches a wing emphatically. She moves her hand closer to it.

  It slices across her palm with a long talon, releasing a line of dripping red.

  Don’t do this Ava! I scream at her, knowing what horror she’s about to let loose. I manage to lift myself, sliding my back up the wall. My power stirs to life from my panic and I find my feet. This isn’t you!

  Yes, it is.

  You have a choice.

  So do you. Do this with me, Aidan. We could fix everything.

  Fix it? With carnage and death?

  “Oh, Aidan, you still believe this mess can be saved. That was always your problem. But this world . . . it’s just not worth it. It’s certainly not worth your blood.”

  I won’t let you do this.

  “And how are you going to stop me? Are you going to kill me?” She tilts her head like she’s actually curious to see if I would. Then she holds out her bloody palm, almost touching the gateway, like she’s teasing me.

  The demons around her chatter their teeth and click their talons together, cheering her on.

  “Don’t worry, the great-grams and her house will be protected,” she says, like she’s trying to make peace. “Your wards made sure of that. I can feel how strong they are. Nice job.”

  I feel for my power but it’s barely a hum. My blade is in my back pocket—I can’t—no. But I need to stop her—how can I stop her? My sister isn’t supposed to be this thing. This isn’t her. This isn’t you, Ava!

  “No matter how many times you say it, it won’t make it true.” She gives me a sad smile and reaches for the wall.

  I lunge, knocking three demons out of the way, and grab her by the arm, yanking her back. We land with a spray of sand, my grip on her arm solid. She releases a giggle, like she used to do when she was close to getting caught in hide-and-seek.

  And then I see why: a bloody smear just below the rift.

  “Too late,” she sings. “You should’ve used the knife on me.”

  I watch helplessly as the streak of blood becomes a second crack, sinking the wall in at that spot with a heavy thud, shaking the cave, jolting the ground beneath us. Fissures grow from the carved-out spot and join the first cracks, more black ooze appearing as the rock collapses inwards again and again.

  Ava kisses her palm where it’s cut and then blows the kiss at the wall.

&n
bsp; Wind and silver threads whoosh around us in a shimmering tornado; they dance for a few seconds, like glinting faerie lights. And then they all collect together and spray toward the doorway, hitting the stone in a rush. A grinding of rock, and the wall gives way, bits flying into swirling darkness. Into nothingness. An empty expanse looks back from the other side, as if we’re sitting on the edge of the world.

  I look into the void, stunned. The dark wind rushes around us, the pull of its gravity a roar in my ears.

  Ava leans against me, putting her head on my shoulder. “Isn’t it lovely?”

  It’s lovely and horrifying and wrong. And a piece of me dies, watching the ash and silver storm churn. My mother gave herself to save her children, the two of us, sitting beside each other at the end of the world: Ava, the daughter who began it, and me, the son who failed to stop it.

  “They’re coming,” she whispers conspiratorially. “I can hear them. Don’t be afraid.” She rubs my back in comfort. “You can share this with me. It’s how it should be. Remember, I said everything would be all right in the end.”

  Oh, God.

  The first beast that emerges is half bear, half man, with teeth six inches long and cloven feet. Another comes, a bug-like creature with long tentacles and a clacking jaw. Two more, with horns and spikes growing from their blue skin. The next several seem to mesh together, a mass of claws and teeth and saliva, the space crowding with their stench.

  I gasp for clean air, unable to look away, unable to move to run. Ava rises and pats me on the head before walking right into the mass of shadow and talons, her white form disappearing among it all. They part slowly, moving aside to make way for her.

  She stands in front of the doorway. The charcoal and black storm behind her grasps for her, and whips her hair around her face, which is filled with contentment. I watch her, realizing I need to run for her, to shove us both into the void and let it be over. But my cowardly limbs hesitate and Ava places her hand over the empty space. The gateway returns with a growl and grind of stone, the walls shivering from the impact.

  Ava moves among her subjects, touching them and studying them, one by one. She seems to be speaking without saying anything; they grunt as if responding, and move as if following directions.

  When she has greeted each one, she motions toward the beach. One by one, the creatures of all shapes and sizes slip past me and out the cave entrance, escaping into the world, a dark army of madness and death. All the while Ava smiles, her white eyes watching what she has unleashed. “This should be interesting, right?” she says. And then she winks at me and disappears with a pop of air.

  I sit in the sand and stare for so long at the dried bloody print left behind on the gateway that my eyes water and my head begins to ache. I’m not sure how long it is before I can make myself move. I get to my feet, leaning on the altar before stumbling out of the cave and onto the beach. There are no demons here that I can see. The sun is setting over the horizon, but the sky above seems darker than it should. Distant shadows creep over the blanket of violet and orange on the horizon, swallowing up the colors and the sun.

  I fall to my knees and find my voice at last, screaming into the air. I shove my rage, my remorse, my sorrow and brokenness up, up, up as far as they’ll go. Crying out to the heavens. But the heavens only stare back in silence.

  I make my way back to the club. I start by walking, keep walking for several miles, finally catch a bus, then another. It gives me time to think, which turns out to be very bad. Because I find no solutions. Only questions. Always the questions. Where is Eric? What happened to Jaasi’el? Did Ava really kill him?

  But most importantly, where did Ava go, and what happened to her horde of demons?

  My God, what did I just witness?

  I find myself standing in the parking lot of the club, staring into the alley, numb, inside and out.

  Someone taps me on the arm. “Aidan, I have a message. Come inside.”

  I shake my head. No messages.

  “Eric is safe.” It’s Hanna. She heard from Eric. Eric who trusted me. “He’ll find you again soon, but he’s going to stay on the other side of the Veil until he can gather reinforcements and receive orders.”

  Ava told me she ripped the dominion angel to shreds—her own father. What good will reinforcements do against that sort of evil?

  “Aidan,” a soft voice says.

  I turn, unable to believe what I’m hearing. “Kara,” I say, breathless.

  She’s standing next to Hanna, her dark hair framing her face, her light eyes full of sorrow, her familiar sweet energy spilling out around her. So much of it. More than ever before. It curls against her fingers, her shoulders, a lovely summer-sky blue. It’s so bright. Brighter than I’ve seen it. With all that energy, if I didn’t know any better I’d say she was an angel.

  “I’ll leave you two alone,” Hanna says.

  Once Hanna has walked back toward the club, Kara comes closer, concern etched into her features. “What happened? You’re so sad.”

  “My God, Kara,” I whisper. “Ava . . .”

  But it’s like I don’t have to say anything else, she hears me. She steps forward and touches her fingers to my chest, just over my mark.

  The blue light of her energy slinks up her fingers and soaks in, every inch of my skin going warm in a rush. Peace fills me—awareness, and hope. Kara’s peace, Kara’s hope.

  “You’re not sick,” I say, my throat tightening from the tenderness of it all, a balm to my crushed spirit.

  She shakes her head and then slides her hands up my chest, resting against me. I wrap her in my embrace, clutching her to me, burying my face in her hair. “I love you,” I whisper. “God, I love you.”

  She holds me tighter and rises up to kiss my jaw. “I know,” she says, sounding amazed. “I can feel it.”

  “How did this happen? How are you not sick?”

  She moves to see my face. “Rebecca healed me.”

  I stare at her in stunned silence.

  “I know, it’s crazy,” she says. “But she sort of passed on her blessing to me, the one that linked her to you.”

  “How is that even possible?”

  “Sid said that it was Finger who did the transfer. But it was all Rebecca’s idea.” She shakes her head like she can hardly believe it. “The girl is . . . she’s so not normal. And it’s weird, but I feel like a part of her is in me now. Like, I feel different.”

  I pull back and look at her more closely.

  She laughs and pats my chest. “It’s all good things, Aidan. Don’t get scrunchy face. You’re worried and nothing’s happened.”

  “Something always happens.”

  She sighs and leans against me again. “Can’t we just enjoy the win?”

  “Yeah.” I run my fingers over her hair, and try to soak in the feel of her, try not to think about what could happen. Or about Ava.

  After a second of standing there in each other’s arms, she says, “You’re still worrying.”

  “How would you know?” I squeeze her tighter into my chest, loving how she fits perfectly against me, reveling in her smell, the way she fills the holes in me.

  She giggles.

  “What?”

  She steps out of my arms and there’s a huge grin on her face. “You are a total sap, aren’t you? A big mush.”

  “Excuse me?”

  She just smiles at me and takes my hand. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

  “Okay, weirdo.”

  She tugs on my arm and pulls me toward the warehouse. “Let’s go pack your stuff.”

  I let her lead me inside and back to the vault, and watch as she takes over and starts tossing my few possessions into my duffel. I lean on the wall and study her as she moves around me, focusing on her soul. But as I look over her arms, her neck, I can’t see anything. No silver mark from the curse on her nape, no red handprint around her throat. I try opening myself up more, but there’s nothing on her skin. Either I’ve lost my ability or
Kara’s soul is—

  Wait. I can see a golden light on her back, at the base of her neck.

  A handprint.

  Is that really the only thing on her soul? A golden handprint.

  My hand.

  FORTY-SEVEN

  Rebecca

  Connor walks me out to the cab that’s waiting in front of the house. I’m heading to Samantha’s, since my dad will be home in a few days. I figured it was time to get some space, anyway. Since the transfer two days ago, there’s this odd ache inside me. Like whatever I gave to Kara was carved out with a very dull knife. It might take some time for the pain to fade. I really hope it fades.

  Aidan offered to walk me out, an offer I normally would have jumped at. But I declined. I don’t feel like I need him anymore—one of the effects of the transfer, I guess. I can’t sense his emotions anymore, either. That ability passed on to Kara, too. I have to wonder what else did.

  I haven’t tried to draw yet. I’m having trouble reconciling that I may have given that ability away, also. It’s too painful to think that I could really be that . . . empty.

  The one good thing that may have come of it—besides saving Kara, of course—is that I no longer have to worry about that demon. Sid and Aidan both agreed that I won’t even be a blip on its radar anymore, since the vital part of me that it was trying to destroy isn’t a part of me now. So I can go live my life.

  Free.

  I wish it felt like that. I keep thinking through it all, trying to figure out if I did something wrong. I knew when I gave away whatever was in me to save Kara, I knew that it was going to be a sacrifice. I knew, I just . . . I wasn’t expecting this . . . vacancy.

  Connor matches my pace down the path, not touching me. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he says as he opens the door to the cab.

  “Yeah,” I say, absently. I toss my bag onto the backseat and then turn to face him.

  “Rebecca,” he says, a frown creasing his brow. “What is it? You’ve been distant all day. You know we’ll still see you, right?”

  “We?”