Darklight

by Forrest, Bella

  Darklight

  Bella Forrest

  Contents

  Problems reading?

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Read more by Bella Forrest

  Copyright © 2019

  Nightlight Press

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Chapter One

  I focused on the five dark silhouettes perched atop the Ferris wheel of Navy Pier Park. The ride was closed for renovation, but crowds of tourists bustled on either side of its boarded-up enclosure: a steady stream of warm targets.

  “Team A, be ready,” I breathed into my comm, and glanced to my teammates behind me within the wheel’s perimeter. Six helmeted heads nodded back, their hands tightening around silver barrels.

  “Team B is going in,” came the low, confident voice of my brother and second-in-command.

  A large helicopter whirred overhead, drawing closer to the wheel and slowly circling it.

  I glanced at my watch. “Greta, you should be in position.”

  “Yup, and waiting for your command, Lyra,” the clipped voice of Team C’s leader replied.

  “Start the haze,” I said.

  The hiss of decompressing gas filled the cool spring night, and Greta boomed through a megaphone: “Please evacuate the pier. This is an emergency. Head for the children’s museum. You will receive further information there. I repeat, please evacuate the pier.”

  Beyond the enclosure’s walls, a semi-dense fog billowed from the ground, covering the crowd. Shouts and cries rang out, followed by a stampede of panicked footsteps. I refocused on the wheel’s apex, ignoring the guilt that panged in my chest at the sounds of alarm and confusion. The smokescreen could be inconvenient and frightening, but ultimately it would prevent the tourists from being targeted.

  The silhouettes started shifting, clearly noticing the helicopter and the commotion. I caught the rustle of an opening wing.

  Placing some distance between myself and the base of the wheel, I raised my gun, and my colleagues did the same. “All right, Team A. On my count. Three, two, one…”

  I aimed for the largest shadow and fired, my entire body vibrating from the force of the bullet’s release. I heard the creature’s rasping cry, as guttural and grating as a vulture’s, followed by four others as my teammates hit their marks.

  But the shadows barely jerked. Instead, their massive wings shot out, and they launched into the air so fast that I lost them in the darkness.

  It was far from my first encounter with the strange avian species, but I still shivered when the light from the nearby Wave Swinger attraction touched their sleek, ink-black forms. In many ways, each resembled the common stork—long and graceful, with an extended beak, broad wings, and thin, dangling legs. But these weren’t the kind you’d see carrying babies on greeting cards.

  At least three times larger than the biggest earthly stork, they soared through the sky like dark omens, propelled by unnatural speed and a craving for blood. Their talons resembled an eagle’s, while their beaks were sharp and strong enough to puncture metal—they could suckle a human dry in three minutes if they found a main artery.

  There was a reason we called them “redbills.”

  “Zach, get to work!” I yelled.

  Gunfire exploded from the helicopter, peppering the birds with artillery. It took more than a single shot to bring them down—even with bullets specifically designed to deliver their death.

  “Spread out!” I ordered my team. “Don’t let them dive!”

  The redbills began to circle the aircraft. The chopper was their greatest source of aggravation, and, judging from the way their beaks angled toward it, they were preparing to strike back. I leapt onto the wheel’s frame and pulled myself up the metal skeleton for a better angle. I fired a round at the largest predator.

  “Focus on the biggest!” I shouted. “But don’t let the others get close enough for a snatch-n-fly.” Rookie mistake of the year.

  My team fired, angry streaks of laser-blue cutting through the darkness. At least ten bullets struck the creature from my team’s direction, in addition to a round fired by one of the chopper’s gunmen. The redbill’s wings beat violently but held its flight. I’d never seen one so large, and with its massive size came extra resilience.

  After another onslaught, it finally floundered, an unearthly shriek ripping from its throat and spurts of dark blood raining from its body. It backed down, swerving shakily toward the water at the end of the pier. It would probably be underwater in moments.

  My team’s focus switched to the next target, a redbill spitting nasty hissing sounds which reminded me uncannily of curses. It darted right up to the aircraft, its powerful beak close to ramming the tail.

  Swearing under my breath, I pulled myself higher up the wheel and leaned a little farther out of my comfort zone to get a better shot. I fired, my artillery joining my team’s focused stream. Shots pummeled the bird’s underbelly, but it didn’t falter. It took two intense rounds before it fell away, hissing loudly as it plummeted with a crash into the roof of a snack joint.

  “Good job!” I shouted. “Three more to go!”

  I released three bullets in swift succession at our third target, then leaned out even farther to attempt a shot at its neck. My finger was on the trigger, pressing—

  “Lyra, watch out!”

  Something clamped around my waist. My feet slipped from the frame as an impossible force yanked me to the right like I was a rag doll. The gun flew from my hands and the breath left my lungs—then I was flying.

  The pier bled rapidly away beneath me, and a mass of shimmering dark water replaced the ground. My eyes stung. I couldn’t hear my breathing over the roar of the wind.

  I winced as I felt the cold, painful press of armor against my flesh, as if it were closing in on me, and glanced down. Two blood-speckled claws engulfed my waist, the giant talons squeezing tight.

  I didn’t glance up, because I didn’t need to. All but one bird had been in my peripheral vision before I was snatched. Clearly the first hadn’t been as injured as it looked—or it had somehow recuperated and flown back with a burst of energy.

  Either way, it didn’t matter. If this redbill squeezed any tighter, it was going to crush me even before its deadly beak could gouge me.

  Those realiza
tions hit me within moments, flying disjointedly through my brain as my reflexes finally kicked in. I yanked my knees toward my chest and fumbled in my boots to reach the knives strapped there. I pulled both out and slashed them across the creature’s claws, hoping it would drop me.

  Its legs retracted, shifting me into a more vertical position, but the bird’s grip barely loosened. Instead, it shrieked and thrust down with its beak, catching my right thigh. My suit dented into the muscle with a pain like being punched, and I gasped in both pain and anger. If it hit the same place twice, it’d cut right through.

  Time for plan B. There was no time to replace the blades in their sheaths. I let them fall, then pulled out a small rectangular pulse patch from a sleeve in my suit’s right shoulder while keeping my eyes on the creature holding me. As the bird thrust its beak down at me again, I jerked my head to the side, narrowly avoiding a second strike. I slapped the patch onto the bird’s right ankle and pressed the center of it, hard. The patch glowed bright blue for a split second, then beeped.

  The effect was instantaneous. The creature’s talons loosened as the device sent a powerful surge of energy rushing through its body. My suit was specially insulated, but if it were damaged enough, the pulse would’ve killed me, too. Which was why the patch had been the backup plan.

  My stomach dropped as the stunned bird and I hurtled down in freefall, the black, choppy waves rising to meet us at breathtaking speed.

  The impact jolted every bone in my body, and though the ice-cold water didn’t reach me through the suit, my skin prickled at the instant drop in temperature. I struggled against the instinct to gasp, preserving the precious air within my helmet.

  I opened my eyes to a swirling confusion of bubbles, wingtips, and pale shafts of moonlight, and thrashed to put some distance between myself and the redbill. It was still alive, though it seemed to be struggling to get to the surface.

  The surges created by its writhing body made it hard to fumble for another patch—especially with my suit dragging me down. I managed to pull one out and kicked back toward the bird. An insanely risky move, but I managed to catch the tip of its wing as it curved through the water. I held on for dear life, slapped the second patch on with my left hand, pressed hard, and let go.

  The violent currents subsided a moment later. Lungs burning, I prayed that the redbill was finally dead while I struggled to remove my helmeted suit, the heart-stopping cold engulfing me as I kicked to the surface. The pulse was over, and I didn’t have the energy to sustain the suit’s weight.

  Then again, hypothermia might kick in soon. But I trusted my brother to fish me out before that.

  Breaking the surface, I heaved a gloriously deep gasp of air while I reached for my comm and wiped my eyes.

  Two redbills hurtled toward me from the sky above, their razor-sharp beaks angled to strike.

  My heart lodged in my throat, and in one motion I gasped again and dove hard and fast, bracing myself for beaks to slice through the water. I should’ve expected them. It was Bill Behavior 101. The birds saw their companion take down prey (or so it looked from a distance), and they wanted a piece of it. A snatch-n-fly had never happened to me before, so I wasn’t as prepared as I should’ve been. Simulations only took you so far.

  I wouldn’t be able to survive this kind of attack even with a suit. The only idea I had was to get as deep as possible, rely on the water to hide me, and resurface far enough from them to get away, all before my lungs gave out. It sounded impossible.

  It never came to that. The redbills didn’t follow me. There was a commotion above the surface: two deep, echoing booms followed by a bright flash. Two enormous splashes disturbed the water around me.

  I rose back to the surface to breathe, blinking furiously when I reached air. Our aircraft hovered in the sky. A tall, broad form dangled from its extended ladder, a wide-barreled grenade launcher gripped in one hand.

  “Lyra!” Zach bellowed, his head swiveling wildly as he scanned the waves.

  “I-I’m here,” I managed, almost choking on an incoming wave. I raised a hand and flailed.

  I could’ve sworn I heard his sharp exhalation even from this distance, and the helicopter moved closer. Slinging his gun over his shoulder, Zach climbed to the bottom of the ladder as it swung directly overhead. He reached his hand out to me, and I kicked hard to grasp it, allowing him to haul me up.

  I swung around to the side of the ladder opposite him, both of us clinging to the same rungs, and met my older brother’s brown eyes with a deep inhalation. His lips stretched slowly, the sheer panic I’d seen in him only moments before melting into his signature devil-may-care grin.

  “Having fun?” he asked, reaching through the rungs to smooth back my sopping wet bangs.

  “A friggin’ ball.” I batted his hand away and started climbing before I froze in the harsh wind.

  Zach followed me up. “Are you hurt?”

  “Mostly shaken. A few bruises. I’ll survive.” My teeth chattered.

  “Not gonna lie, you had us all crapping our pants back there. I don’t think any of us saw that sucker returning for more… At least all’s well that ends well, eh? You gave me a chance to use this baby.”

  He was referring to the grenade launcher. We weren’t supposed to use heavy explosives unless a location was cleared of citizens, which was why we’d started with weaker gunfire at the pier. Out here, though, we could blow things up to our hearts’ content.

  Something Zach enjoyed more than was probably healthy.

  “You’re welcome,” I replied, my voice dryer than the Sahara.

  As I reached the top of the ladder, a pair of strong hands grabbed me and hauled me up. The warmth of the aircraft’s interior enveloped me like a sauna. Our captain—and our real first-in-command—stood before me, his sharp blue eyes narrowed in scrutiny. But before he or I could say a word, someone attacked my head with a towel.

  “Better get you warm fast, Lyra.” A familiar voice came from behind me, muffled by the towel scraping my ears as it swiftly transformed into a turban. Hands spun me around until I stood face-to-face with my brother’s girlfriend. “Come and get changed,” Gina said firmly. Her light amber eyes were concerned and relieved as she took my hand and led me to the back of the aircraft.

  “Yes, get changed, Sloane.” Captain Bryce’s thick Scottish voice sounded from behind. “And then we all need to talk.”

  “That sounds ominous,” I muttered.

  “Pretty sure it’s the usual drill.” Gina sighed.

  Passing Teams A and B, I saw that everyone was unsuited and wore relieved expressions, though some had a tinge of thinly veiled amusement, similar to my brother’s expression on the ladder. I threw a playful scowl at those faces.

  No, it hadn’t escaped my crew that their first-in-command (albeit in training) had been the one to fall into what our trainers labeled Rookie Mistake of the Year.

  But come on. This one had been different. After all those injuries, I couldn’t have expected the bird to be that fast or stealthy. I needed more experience with bills of that size.

  A set of warm, dry clothes had been laid out in a makeshift changing room. Gina waited outside while I peeled off my wet uniform.

  “You got rid of all the birds, right?” I called through the curtain, realizing I’d only seen two come after me, which left one unaccounted for.

  “Yeah. Once you got lifted, Captain gave permission to override grenade protocol so we could deal with them faster and get to you. Team C had mostly cleared the area by then, anyway. Pilot’s taking us back to base now.”

  “Good.” I caught the reflection of my face in a small mirror while reaching for the dry clothes. My hazel-brown eyes were bloodshot, my usually sun-kissed skin still pale from the cold. But after wringing out my ponytail and pulling on a cozy, fleece-lined getup, I felt much better.

  I stepped back into the corridor.

  “Now for some hot chocolate,” Gina said. She turned and made for the front of the chop
per, and I followed, watching the back of her short, blonde bob and ignoring my smirking colleagues on the way back. I sank into the seat next to my brother in the center of the common area while Gina fixed me a drink in the mini kitchen unit.

  Captain Bryce’s eyes lighted on me from the front of the room, and a moment later, he cleared his throat.

  “We’ll commence the Stripping, then,” he announced, every syllable tart and sharp.

  I recoiled involuntarily and felt the whole room do the same around me.

  A verbal stripping for each of us was what it would be—there really was no other term to describe the very detailed performance breakdowns Bryce gave his trainees after every mission. Nor was there any way to prepare for them.

  I flinched when his eyes turned to me, but then, apparently changing his mind, he strode to the seats on the far left, the first of which was occupied by Colin Adams, a member of Team B. Bryce stopped less than a foot in front of him and crossed his arms over his chest.

  “So, laddie. What made you think popping your first bullet before Zach’s command was a good idea? Did you think you’d earn an extra point for enthusiasm? Were you wanting to get ahead of your colleagues? Naturally trigger-happy, are we? Or is there some great intellect in that hard helmet of yours that I’m missing?”

  His blue eyes bore intensely into the Chinese-American, whose face flushed furiously.

  “N-No, sir. I’m sorry. I was just… nervous,” he mumbled.