The piece of equipment didn’t stand a chance.
All of the lights shut off, and darkness enveloped us. Aside from the glow of our swords, I couldn’t see a thing. The blue and purple blades illuminated the reaction on Pierce’s face, and Jada dropped her weapon. The metal clanged against the ground as the emergency lights flickered on, sputtering electricity into the air. In the distance, I could hear the slam of our entrance. The foundation shook, and the vibration sent the first wave of safety through the air.
Pierce let out a sigh. “I cannot believe that worked.”
“It didn’t,” Jada’s voice wavered as she spoke, but her widened eyes told us more.
I spun around to face what she saw, and everything in me froze like it did during the Marking of Change.
Darthon was in the doorway—locked inside the secured room with us. His blond hair glowed in the white emergency lights, but his smile was brighter. His sword was worse. It drew out of his arm, inch by inch, and his dark stare never left mine.
“I knew you’d use your sword eventually,” he said just as he shot toward me.
56
Eric
Jessica tried to jump between us, but Pierce was faster than he had ever been before. His grip dug into Jessica’s arm, and he yanked her back. A screech escaped her as Darthon reached me.
My back hit the wall before I even realized what had happened. Our swords clanged against one another. Even though I hadn’t thought about it, my reflexes had protected me, and my grip tightened as his face solidified in front of me.
This was it.
“How are the injuries?” Darthon glowered as his sword pushed closer to my throat, but he shouldn’t have spoken. His cheek was ripped. His right eye was swelling shut. He was as injured as I was. He hadn’t gotten into our shelter easily.
I could hear the shouts, but there were too many of them. I didn’t know if it was Pierce, Jada, Jessica, or someone from outside the room. I only heard Darthon, but I saw more than him.
An electric bubble surrounded us, shielding us from the others. It was the same one he had used to take me to the Light realm, but this time, even though my molecules pulled, we remained in the Dark’s shelter.
“It’s destroyed,” he screamed. “The entire place is destroyed, and it’s your fault.” Spit landed on my face, but I knew his blood did, too.
The pressure increased, but I pushed back. My muscles strained with my breath. The heat was too much.
“Zac and Linda are dead.” He shoved his knee against mine. “Because of you, everyone’s dead. You’ve had your chance to kill—”
“I’m not dead!” The shout split the bubble.
The barrier keeping us apart from everyone was gone, and everything I saw broke my insides. Pierce and Jada were no longer shades. They were human, bloody and unconscious—possibly dead—but Jessica was standing, and she wasn’t alone. Fudicia was at her feet.
As she stood, Darthon’s concentration broke. This was my only chance, and I chose to take it.
57
Jessica
Darthon’s sword met Shoman’s, and the two slammed into the back wall. A crack split up the stone, and dust spewed out in a suffocating cloud.
I tore away from my guard, but he had grabbed me again. “Jessica—”
It wasn’t Pierce’s voice at all. It wasn’t even his grip.
Fudicia was holding me, and her nails were poison in my veins. “Don’t.”
I tried to squirm away from her, but it was what I saw that froze me. A bubble of electricity surrounded us, Pierce and Jada on the outside. When they pounded on it, a burst of lightning shattered to the ground. Both of my friends flew backward, hitting the other side of the room like they were nothing but ragdolls. They didn’t even fight back. They slumped to the floor, unconscious and bleeding. The attack hadn’t even made Fudicia flinch.
“This fight is between Darthon and Shoman,” she said it like she was protecting me.
I tore my eyes away from Pierce and Jada before I lost my concentration. “Eric will die.”
“Better than you,” she growled. Her teeth were spikes.
She was never on our side. I knew it. Deep inside of me, I knew it, and it was that fury that gave me the strength. I yanked my sword at her, and she leapt away from me, but she never tore down her shield.
Her white hair blended in with the bubble. It was the Light’s energy that allowed it, the same energy I had in my own veins—if only I had transformed into a light again, if only I let it consume me.
Fudicia’s black eyes widened like she could sense what I was thinking. “Don’t do this—”
Before I let my veins fill with the fire of the Light, Fudicia jumped toward me again. I latched onto her arm and swung her to the ground. Her body hit the floor in a single thud, and I swung my sword at her. She barely had time to roll away. Her black eyes were on me as I walked over to her, ready to kill another light.
“If you’re a light when Darthon dies, you will die, too.” She got the words out before I froze. It made sense. Darthon wanted to kill me no matter what, and his encouragement of having me on his side when he won would guarantee it. But Fudicia’s voice wasn’t the reason I froze. It was another voice entirely.
“Zac and Linda are dead.” Darthon was screaming. “Because of you, everyone’s dead. You’ve had your chance to kill—”
“I’m not dead!” Fudicia shouted. “I killed Zac,” she said as she stood up, “and I joined the Dark.”
She was on our side, and I had almost killed her.
Darthon was staring at Fudicia, but Shoman was staring at him. I saw the flicker of darkness cross his eyes before he did it. Shoman swung his sword at Darthon. The blue blade cut through the air, and Fudicia’s screech was the only warning.
Darthon leapt to the side, but not fast enough. Shoman’s sword hit Darthon’s leg, and Darthon hit the ground. Shoman was on his feet, and before Darthon could ever stand, Shoman kicked him back down. This time, I was the one to freeze.
In movements that seemed too slow for reality, Shoman lifted his sword and brought it down, but it never met Darthon. Fudicia had intercepted it. She had tackled Shoman. The battle wasn’t between the two, after all.
My blood began to course again, and I shot toward them. This time, no one held me back. As I neared, Darthon stood up, and I swung my sword at his. Our weapons collided, but sparks never shot out. Instead, the beams blended together, stretching to the ceiling. The smell of fire filled my nostrils.
“You shouldn’t have chosen his side,” Darthon spat.
I didn’t have time to listen to him. I didn’t even have time to look at Shoman or Fudicia. I only pushed harder against the blade, allowing his fire to burn my face. I didn’t care. As long as I got a chance to kill him, Shoman would get his shot to truly kill him when he came back to life.
Darthon’s scowl softened. “I don’t want this.”
In that single second, Robb’s brown irises poked through the black pits Darthon had for eyes, but even then, the stare was one I had seen before. When he had hit me outside the bar, his clouded expression was filled with desperation, but it was lined with evil—the kind of evil no one came back from.
“No one has to die,” Fudicia yelled, but I ignored her voice. “The prophecy—”
It was too late.
I swiped my blade through the air and missed when Darthon’s leg collided with mine. I hit the ground face first and barely had time to look up as he swung his blade down at me.
“If I die, you die, too.”
His voice was in my head—as if I had become a light already—and his sword was the only thing I could see as he brought his blade down. The white light split through the air, burning ablaze as it sizzled through flesh, tearing against bone and muscle. A screech filled my ears, and all of time was frozen in the flickering emergency lights.
Darthon’s sword never hit me.
Fudicia crumbled on top of me, a deep slice cutting her torso fro
m her shoulder to her hip. The edges of her skin were black. She spit up blood as she gasped, and in her gasp, she flickered into Linda—the girl I had met on prom night, the one who had already been protective of Robb, the girl who had sacrificed herself for me instead.
No one moved.
“I never left your side,” she said, looking up at me. “You only thought I did.” From the Light realm to the shelter, she had used an illusion to follow us. I hadn’t felt her because I hadn’t thought to check, but she touched my face to prove she wasn’t an illusion anymore—that she never had been. “The books are safe.”
She died.
Linda was dead, and Darthon screamed.
58
Eric
No one could move. The lingering silence was draining, and the image before us was worse. Linda—Fudicia—was dead, yet a smile stayed on her face, a smile meant for Jessica, for the Dark, for everyone she had sacrificed herself for, for the people that—apparently—never had to die in the first place.
As the realization of her words hit me, my sword disappeared, zipping into my veins, and energy crept its way into my heart. It was still beating. Only seconds had passed. Two more breaths than Linda would ever have. And her death had caused my sword to deteriorate. It was the only reason I had energy again. It had almost zapped me of everything I had, and by the looks of it, the swords of Darthon and Jessica had done the same to them.
I was the only one who could move. It had sucked nearly all of my energy out. As Darthon screamed, I leapt to my feet. I only had seconds to yank Jessica out from beneath Linda’s body. She slid out easily. The blood helped.
I held back my vomit as I stumbled back, pushing Jessica the entire time. She had to grab the console to keep from falling over, and my eyes moved over Jonathon and Crystal for only a minute. They were breathing, I think. I had to concentrate on Darthon.
By the time I faced him, he was standing on shaking knees, but his eyes were on Fudicia.
“Is it true?” I screamed, refusing to pull my blade back out. It was draining my powers. I had almost nothing left. “Can we both live?”
He was silent, but his glare was his response as he raised his gaze from Linda’s body. His growling grimace stretched over his face. “You’re dying for this.” Even if it were true, he wasn’t going to let me live.
I stepped back. “I didn’t kill her.” Still, I searched for some sign—any sign—that he would give in, that he would stop. “You did.”
“I wasn’t aiming at her!”
It was the last thing he screamed. He flew toward us, but I wasn’t his target. I was never his target. He went straight for Jessica. Their swords collided, but both were weak. Her feet slid backward right as I intervened.
I kicked Darthon’s ankles out from beneath him. He hit the ground, but he never got rid of his sword. If he kept it up, I could win, but for once, I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to kill him—not if he could live, not if he could have another chance—but Darthon squirmed back up.
This time, I kicked him in the face. “Is it true?” My scream scratched against my throat.
Darthon tried to stand. I had to kick him again. “Stop fighting!”
He was practically killing himself.
“We’re all going to die anyway,” he spat. “All of us. Every last one of us.”
His words didn’t make sense until his sword disappeared. He had realized what I had. The descendant power was draining, and he was gaining his energy back. A bubble of electricity shot up from the ground, splitting right between Jessica and me, only to ostracize Darthon and me together. From the outside, Jessica yelled something, but her words sounded like I was underwater. It didn’t travel through the energy.
I tensed, readying myself to fight Darthon. “I don’t want to kill you,” I said and meant it.
“You won’t have to,” he huffed, scrambled to his feet, and straightened. His shoulders broadened, and heat filled the space between us. He had gained his energy back as fast as I had gained mine, but neither of us pulled out our swords. I didn’t know how long it would take to drain me again—if it would be instant or over time—and I wasn’t about to take the chance.
Jessica shouted again.
I ignored her as I made my decision. It only took me one minute to look over Darthon’s face. Robb—Darthon—whoever he was—was already dead on the inside. He had died long ago, sometime in childhood, between his dog and his parents. He had let his tragedies take him, but I would have to be the one to complete his destruction.
I took the first attack, slamming my fist against his face. I hit him again—for Abby—and once more—for Camille—and one more time—for Linda. Each time I hit his face, a lost loved one flickered through my mind, and with every hit that collided with him, he laughed.
Blood sputtered out of him when I stopped. His chuckle was loud, and the blood smeared against his spiked teeth. I hit him again—this time, for him. I wanted him to come back.
When we were kids, we had met by the willow tree. Or so I had been told. I was too young to remember, but we had gone back for Independence Day nearly every year. He had even asked why I hadn’t invited him the year after my mother died—the same year Camille was assigned to me—and I hadn’t explained a word. He accepted it without another question, but the year Abby died he hadn’t been so easy. At her funeral, he confronted me, and I hit him. I hit him for the first time, and I hadn’t stopped after one hit either.
Still, he apologized to me. This time, he did nothing of the sort.
“Why are you laughing?” I screamed at him.
“I’m not,” he said it at the same time I realized he hadn’t been laughing.
His chuckles had morphed into sobs—struggled gasps of screaming air—but his tears had already stopped. The wet trails left rivers of clean flesh on his grimy face. Still, his eyes were pitch black. He wasn’t Robb. He was Darthon, and he looked directly into me as he spoke, “I wish I was sorry.”
It was in that second, his hand grasped my wrists, and he yanked my left hand backward. I heard the bone snap before I felt it.
He was on top of me before I knew it, his knees pushed against my ribs. I writhed beneath him, screaming, as his fingers moved up my hands. “This is the only way it’s fair,” he muttered, his eyes moving over to me and over to my hand.
His warm fingers were wrapped around the jewelry that protected my life.
I tried to move, but it was too late. He pulled it off, and I couldn’t breathe.
“You’ll never know if it was real,” he spoke about the prophecy as I died. “Find peace in that.”
59
Jessica
I didn’t have a choice. When Darthon separated Shoman from me, I could only watch behind the globe Darthon’s Light powers produced. I couldn’t become a light to get through. Fudicia said I would die if I did, and I believed her now. Eric looked like he was winning anyway.
Until he wasn’t.
In one second, Darthon was on top of him, and Eric was kicking. His screams—somehow—made it through the barrier. I felt his heartbeat leave before I knew what Darthon had done. The rings. Eric’s was off.
I didn’t hesitate.
I let the fire consume me. Every bit of my insides burned, and I invited them to burn more. My blood boiled, and my teeth seethed, but I only saw my hair as it glowed white.
I was a light, and I would be until the end.
I broke through the barrier, but breaking it wasn’t difficult. It simply didn’t hold me back. I walked right through it. Darthon’s back faced me. He didn’t even see it coming.
I broke his neck just like the first time, and just like the first time, I knew he would come back to life. Only Eric could kill Darthon, and right now, Eric was Eric—a human—and he was gasping for air. His green eyes were on me, widened, but I couldn’t look back for long. He would live through it, and I knew it, but he didn’t know everything.
I picked up his ring and slipped it back on his hand.
A hiss tore out of him as air filled his lungs, and he sat up. His hand landed on my leg. “Thank you.”
I didn’t look at him. “Do it.”
Darthon groaned.
“Fast.”
Eric transformed, only tearing his sword out for the kill, but he froze when Darthon spoke, “She’ll die if you kill me.” His tone was emotionless, and so was his face as he rolled over, chest facing the ceiling. Darthon wasn’t even fighting back. “She’ll die because she’s one of us.”
I fell out of my form. At least, I tried to. But it didn’t work.
“I can prevent it in here,” he half-growled, half-laughed. The bubble was the last bit of strength he was using.
“He’s lying,” I spoke to Eric, knowing what I had to do before Darthon regained his strength. “Kill him.”
Eric—as Shoman—looked from Darthon to me.
“Trust me.”
And he did.
Shoman raised his sword, Darthon shouted—like he never thought Eric would believe me—and it was over. The blade met Darthon’s throat, but he didn’t die immediately. He gurgled, and I closed my eyes as I fell to the floor.
At first, I thought it was from exhaustion, but then, I knew it wasn’t. My heart was slowing. My lungs weren’t taking in as much oxygen as they needed to. But my body tingled.
“Jessica,” Eric was speaking to me, but it was his touch that I concentrated on. The warmth was unlike the Light’s warmth. It was solid, as if he had completely embraced me, but it was only his fingertips. “Jessica, are you okay?” His voice rose. “Jessica—”
Death Before Daylight Page 32
