Darkshine

by R. D. Vallier

  "Ignore him, Miriam," Orin said, poised to lunge beside the sniffer. "Darklings murder and torture faeries and exploit changelings for their own sick desires. He is trying to trick you."

  "Miriam—" Delano started.

  "Darklings are outlaws," the sniffer said. "Prisoners who stole their power from their punishment."

  "Lies!"

  "He is darkness manifested. A demon," Alston added. "And you are another victim he wants to enslave and devour. Don't trust him if you value your life!"

  Delano's irises burned like hellfire, half eaten by the moon. "Lies! You must come with me!"

  My brow furrowed, and I stepped toward Orin.

  "No! Come with me!" Delano screamed. He disappeared in a burst of shadow and reappeared in my face, nearly jerking my arm from its socket. I screeched as shadows raced up my legs, my body, covering me like a pall. "I tried being polite," Delano snarled, his fingernails digging into my arm and his shadows shrouding my throat. "But I refuse to lose you—"

  Orin smashed the glass of water into Delano's cheek. A glass shard sliced his skin, but Delano's grip and shadows tightened around me. Then steam burst in his face and he stumbled backwards, yowling. I broke through the shadows, gasping, and scrambled behind Orin.

  "Leave her alone!" Orin shouted. Magic shimmied around his hand like heat off blacktop. Delano cursed, pawing frantically at his eyes and cheeks. His flesh looked bubbly, and I realized Orin's magic boiled the water on his face.

  The sniffer's light plowed into Delano. The darkling flew six feet into the air and landed on his back. The sniffer whipped a knife from his belt and lunged. Delano rolled, merging with shadow. A spark leapt as the sniffer's blade struck pavement. Delano emerged as a shadowman beside the fence. Darkness dripped off his body like when he had first introduced himself in the woods. But he snarled instead of smiled and the shadows did not melt into the surrounding darkness. Blackness whirled around him in thin strips, as if he stood amid a swarm of bats.

  The sniffer launched a blast of light at Delano. It hit the black whirlwind and ricocheted back into the crowd, slamming three faeries into the side of the restaurant. Delano grinned as sly and malicious as a necromancer. The water on his cheek froze into a starburst pattern. Faster and faster the shadows whirled around him. Delano threw his head back and screamed. At first I thought it was pain, that Orin had made the water boil again. Then Delano's voice became the wind, strong and howling. Everyone skidded backwards; I leaned into the gales to hold my footing. Clouds raced overhead and blocked the starlight, the moonlight. Ice pelted the world. The chain-link fence waved and clinked as the wind tried to tear it free from its posts. All warmth drained into the darkling inside the shadowy whirlwind, who grinned like a devil with blood moon eyes. Alston lost his footing and flipped backwards, feet over head. The lamplights illuminating Bob's Mini Storage exploded; bursts of glass tinkled against the pavement. A woman screamed as shrapnel tore into her arm. Snow formed miniature drifts against the faeries' feet; snowflakes caught and melted in the folds of their clothing, their eyelashes, their brows. Every body shivered. Every jaw quaked, the chattering teeth unheard in the screeching gales.

  The sniffer circled his hand above his head, a silent command which made all the faeries tense to attack. They shimmered in unison, their combined magic making my skin crawl. But in a blink Delano and his whirlwind disappeared into the shadows, leaving a raging blizzard in his wake.

  The faeries cursed and split to search the lot, leaning into the gales, shouting to be heard above winter's screeching. The sniffer's greyhound paced where Delano had stood, its nose to the ground and ears pressed against its skull. The pelting ice stung my skin like needles. No wonder meteorologists never make accurate predictions, I thought.

  Orin squeezed my shoulder. "Are you hurt?"

  I shook my head, a silent lie. My heart had been ripped in half and left sputtering inside my chest. Who was that monster in the shadowy whirlwind? Where was the gentleman with the starving fox? Or the passion I had snuck into my arms? I shuddered, thinking of Delano's blazing eyes, the bloodlust grin as the faeries fell before him, his screams that I belonged with him as if I were a piece of property, a thing to do with as he pleased, just as Orin had warned. Delano had feigned defenselessness. He had feigned weakness and sympathies, and for what? To gain my trust? To lower my guard? Orin had been right. Delano was a manipulator, an incubus, a liar who used compassion and seduction as bait. Delano was the fox, after all. And God help me, I was the fool.

  The sniffer yanked me from Orin and slammed my back against the wall. His pant legs flapped in the wind. "Supporting darklings?" he spat in my face.

  "What? I—"

  "You tried to aid Delano," the sniffer snarled. "Supporting darklings is a slight against the Realm." His eyes pierced like steel as he whipped the knife from his belt.

  Orin pushed himself between us, his arms out and chest forward like a shield. "It's not her fault!" The sniffer's knife tapped his jugular, the blade pressing a white line in his skin. Orin held his ground, unflinching. "Miriam's a changeling," Orin said. "And the whole drive of a darkling is to manipulate and confuse changelings. It's not her fault. Blame Delano."

  The sniffer's lip curled, exposing teeth and gums. A drop of blood slid down Orin's throat. For a terrifying moment I thought the sniffer would slit Orin's throat right there and let him bleed out in the falling snow. The sniffer's eyes then narrowed. He stepped back and sheathed his knife. "Watch her," he grumbled, then slinked back into the restaurant with his greyhound at his heels.

  Orin released a shaky breath and wiped the blood off his throat with a tissue from his pocket. "Are you okay?"

  I nodded, squeezing my lips tight, trying to act brave. Orin pulled me into a hug anyway. "I am so, so sorry," I said, and buried my eyes against his trembling shoulder. "Delano tried to kidnap me! He was more concerned about losing, as if this is all some sort of sick game." I snuffled. "You were right. The whole time he used me, tried to trick me. I am such an idiot."

  Orin stroked my hair. "You are not an idiot. I hate that it came to this, but at least you now see the truth." I nodded against his shoulder. My teeth chattered. "You're freezing," he said. "Let's go inside."

  Orin escorted me into the restaurant. I let the door close on the darkness behind us, and readily embraced the light.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Morning inched toward the horizon, illuminating my insecurities. I held my breath as I headed to the restaurant. Yesterday felt like a fading dream, the evening a lingering nightmare. The faeries were kind to you because they pitied you, my old insecurities said. They don't really like you. How could they after the havoc Delano caused because of you?

  As I approached the crowded table, however, I realized my old insecurities were just that. Old. Seven faeries smiled as I approached, and enthusiastically waved me over to join their meal. Orin scooted over on the bench, allowing me into the clique as if I had joined them every breakfast since birth. As if the whole changeling fiasco had never happened. Our driver, Breena, was seated across the table adding honey to her teacup. Alston was also there, his nose red. I smiled, wondering if he had ever gone to bed. Orin wrapped his arm around me in a good-morning hug, then poured me a cup of tea from the table's kettle. A waitress brought me a plate of fried eggs.

  Breena handed me a burgundy sweater. "Put this on when we leave," she said. "It's Realm wool. Finest wool in all the worlds. You will need it. The weather is terrible."

  "Thank you," I said, and ran my fingers along the sweater's braided front. Realm sheep must be made of velvet.

  Alston chuckled. He had a goose egg on top of his bald head where he had whacked it on the pavement. "That was some excitement last night, eh? I haven't had a good fight in decades. I'm surprised Delano had the balls to show up here."

  Orin stabbed his eggs with a fork. "He's been troubling us the whole trip."

  Breena snorted. "No wonder California is having a heatwave in January."<
br />
  "What do you mean?" I said.

  "Darklings keep territories," Alston said, rubbing his goose egg gingerly. "Delano's territory is near the Realm entrance in central California. But since he is chasing you all the way out here, their winter has gone crazy."

  I shouldn't ask prying questions, I thought, a heartbeat before one blurted out of me: "But why would winter change if darklings have no true powers on Earth, only stolen?"

  "Earth has been manipulated and abused for so long that she becomes confused when darkling magic is ripped away." Alston chuckled. "Global warming, anyone?"

  "But won't that still cause major environmental problems if the darklings are killed off?"

  "When. Not if. There may be some minor issues at first, but the Realm has all the means for a speedy repair." Alston smiled amiably. "Who knows! That might be your first healing assignment, little changeling."

  The restaurant's red door flew open with a bang. A frigid wind gusted through the heat, and the faeries genially griped. A hooded man in an oversized coat entered. He scanned the room as if expecting a friend, then skulked to the bar and plopped himself onto a stool. Snow melted off his shoes in falling clumps. He clenched his coat to his chest, demanded hot mead, and slumped deep into his shoulders.

  Breena turned to me, using the pause to change the topic. "Excited about the ley line?"

  I washed down a mouthful of eggs with some tea. "More nervous than anything."

  Alston waved his hand. "Nonsense. Makes you a bit disoriented the first time, but it cuts lots of time. You will be in California before you know it."

  "And unfortunately miss the heatwave if Delano tails in fast," Orin said. The front door opened with another gust of frigid wind. The clerk who had checked us in—the faerie woman with the amber eyes—darted across the restaurant and disappeared into the hallway.

  "You showed lots of guts last night," Alston told Orin. "If you want a great promotion, kill that darkslime bastard. That will speed you through the ranks."

  Orin smirked. "I'll leave Delano's death to the sniffers," he said. "Unless, of course he—"

  A piercing roar came from the hallway. I threw my hands over my ears, thinking a rabid bobcat had somehow snuck inside. A streak of brindle flashed in my peripheral. The stranger at the bar dashed for the door, toppling over the barstool. The teeth of the sniffer's greyhound tore into his calf. The stranger fell, screaming. The greyhound shook his leg like a game of tug-o-war, blood splattering its narrow snout. The man's shoe flew across the room and bounced off a tabletop. Red soaked through his cargo pants and sprayed the bar and flagstones.

  The sniffer strode across the restaurant from the hallway, his cinnamon coat flailing behind him, and crushed his boot heel into the stranger's sternum. He made a cutting motion with his fist; the greyhound backed off, hackles raised and growling.

  "Durin Reimse," the sniffer said in his melodious voice. "You are guilty of treason against the Realm. Any last words?"

  Durin Reimse spat on the sniffer's shin. "Fuck the Realm."

  The sniffer whipped the blade from his belt, then yanked Durin's tongue from his mouth and sliced it off. Durin screamed a tongueless scream, blood gurgling inside his throat like mouthwash. The sniffer tossed his tongue to the floor with a wet smack, and watched his victim writhe. I clutched the edge of the bench, my flesh crawling. The faeries huddled together, silent and wide-eyed. The amber-eyed clerk hovered in the hallway's entrance, chewing her lip.

  "We are as strong as our weakest link," the sniffer said, and slit Durin Reimse's throat. Blood gushed in torrents; his body bucked against the flagstone. The sniffer yanked Durin's coat-collar with both hands, making his victim stare into his flat, granite eyes as he died.

  The sniffer dropped Durin's corpse to the floor, then slammed his boot into the ribs. The body jolted, as if startled by the loud bone-breaking snap. The faeries leapt from their seats and cheered. I shrieked and jumped nearly out of my skin. The faeries then rushed the sniffer, vying to touch him, praise him, thank him for keeping them safe. The dead man's blood passed from palm to palm as he shook each of their hands. Red footprints danced around the floor as the faeries treaded through the expanding puddle.

  Fried eggs crept up my throat. Holy hell. My desperation for community has made me blindly embrace the faerie Mansons. I grabbed the clerk's wrist as she dashed for the sniffer. She turned, her amber eyes gleaming.

  "What was that man's crime?" I asked.

  "Sedition."

  I imagined suicide bombers and gun-wielding rebels and streets full of dead civilians. "He was a terrorist?"

  The clerk nodded gravely. "I recognized his face from an alert the Realm released last week. He was caught distributing fliers questioning the Realm's work conditions in the mines."

  "The sniffer killed him because of fliers?"

  She lowered her voice and leaned in close, like a sinner confiding a terrible secret to a priest. "Notice how he doesn't have that warm glow like the rest of us?" I forced my eyes to the corpse. He wasn't as pale as Delano, but he didn't have the other faeries' radiance, either. I swallowed audibly. He looks like me. "That means he started using night magic," the clerk continued. "Only a matter of time before he joined the darklings."

  When she realized I had nothing else to say (what could I say?), she hurried off to shake the sniffer's bloodstained hand. The sniffer glared at me from over her shoulder. His lip curled and my insides curled with it. Durin Reimse's blood pooled against the side of the sniffer's boots. Orin stood in the puddle with him, hands in his jeans pockets, rocking on his heels like a child in a playground talking to the school's most popular kid.

  The room started to spin. The blood's cloying, copper reek mixed with the taste of eggs in my throat. I cupped my hand over my mouth and sprinted outside.

  The restaurant door slammed behind me. I vomited up my fried eggs and tea and all the bile in my stomach, the mess steaming in a snowdrift. I leaned over my knees for nearly a minute in the falling snow, gasping, making sure everything was out. A gale sprayed me with snowflakes and chilled my clammy brow; the tastes of acid and sulphur burned my mouth and throat. When I looked up my heart quickened. The sky was still dark.

  Delano.

  Maybe he hadn't tried to kidnap me. Maybe he had tried to save me from a sniffer's blade. I paced the length of the building, muscles taut, boots crunching in snow past my ankles. I squinted through the haze, eyes scanning the walls, the rooftops, the lot, as if I was speed-reading the world. "Delano?" I whispered, snowflakes melting in my hair. I was too afraid to shout, too afraid my tongue would end up on the flagstone. Too afraid to flee, fearful the fangs of a blood-crazed hound would drag me back, screaming. "Delano!" I whispered louder, almost whimpered. "Delano! If you're there, please come out. Please!"

  In the dark crept nothing darker.

  Wind whipped across my cheeks. The chain-link fence clinked. I leaned against the storage wall and slid to my knees in the snow, the tears sliding down my cheeks feeling as fat as pearls. Did the sniffer keep glaring at me because three nights ago I had summoned darkness? Maybe he sensed it. Maybe he was waiting—yearning—for me to slip, for his greyhound's teeth to rip my flesh, for my changeling blood to soak the floor.

  The door creaked beside me. I tensed, fists raised.

  "Breena is ready to leave." Orin's voice was upbeat, cheerful. A red fingerprint dirtied the back of his hand. "I need to change clothes and then—What's wrong?"

  Snowflakes snaked across the lot. I wiped my tears on my sleeve. "Tha-that man."

  Orin dropped to his knees in the snow and threw his arms around me. "It's okay. He's gone now. We're safe."

  "The sniffer killed him!" I snapped, and slammed my hand into his chest.

  Orin fell to his backside, recoiling at my rage. "Y-yes. For the good of everyone."

  "And what about me? If the sniffer discovers I summoned darkness, will he slash my throat for the good of everyone?"

  Orin blanched. "Th
at's different. You were ignorant. It's not as if you used it for evil."

  "Does the Realm care what I used it for?"

  Orin watched the snowflakes melt on his knees and said nothing. At least I have my answer.

  "Maybe that man was like me," I said. "Maybe he was—"

  "No! He was bad. If the Realm unleashed a sniffer on him they had a good reason. Understand?" His outburst made me flinch and nod without thought. Orin stood up. "Get ready to leave." He peered over his shoulder at me before opening the door, tears shimmering in his eyes. "And don't mention this to anyone."

  Orin disappeared back into the restaurant. I stood up and hugged myself, scanning the lot for ruddy eyes and starlight flesh, for any misplaced shadow. Instead I found snow covered pavement and a lightening sky, and an old, familiar loneliness creeping back into my life.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  After witnessing night magic capable of flattening a crowd, and murderers disguised as saints, the ley line no longer seemed so scary.

  I followed Breena and Orin to a locked storage unit at the end of the lot. The soles of their boots were wet with blood, and left pink prints in the snow. The pelting ice had become quarter-sized snowflakes during the night, thick enough to hide the rest of the storage complex in a gray, winter haze. Breena shimmered with magic, which melted a path in the snow as we approached.

  My heart sank when Breena rolled up the storage unit's door. Inside waited a rusting, red Jeep Wrangler. Its plastic windows were yellowed and cracked, offering shoddy protection from the raging blizzard. The seats were torn, the floorboards filthy with dirt and trash. A loop of wooden beads hung from the rearview mirror. I buttoned my overcoat and climbed into the backseat. Orin took the front, with Breena behind the wheel. The two of them chitchatted about the weather, plans for an upcoming holiday, and advancements in Realm security. The reek of the dead man's blood lingered in my nose.