Dark Secrets Box Set

by Angela M Hudson

  I saw the light switch on in her heads.

  “What do you think?” I asked.

  Mike huffed, sinking back in his chair, while Morgaine sat straight. “She has a point, Mike.”

  “I know,” he said.

  “I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Margret joined our private conversation. “What does our new guest think of this?”

  “I haven’t mentioned it, but I think he’ll be happy with it,” I said.

  Arthur slammed his napkin on the table then pushed his chair out and stormed away. Mike sat staring into his plate, his face red, holding his breath for about two beats after Arthur left, then shoved out from the table and stormed away too. A quiet hum of laughter settled over the room, lightening the mood. And it stayed that way for the rest of the night.

  With the tension of a kingless nation eased and the renewed possibility of an heir to the throne, I think my people felt a sense of hope for the first time in so long, even if that heir to be born wasn’t the prophecy child Morgaine had told everyone about.

  I placed a soft hand to my belly and looked around at all the smiling faces. Very soon, I was going to make everything all right for these people. Very soon, their king would return and, together, we would finally unite all Vampires and Lilithians. Including the ones under Drake’s reign.

  15

  A circle of darkness made the field an eerie place to be. I slowly wandered forward, only seeing the grass appear at my feet with each step as I followed the distant, gloomy hum of a song. Each word came like a lost soul sung its last wish, and the hollow, haunting ring of the tune left bumps of chill down my bare arms.

  I stopped dead when I saw a man kneeling on the ground under my tree, his shoulders hunched, his dark hair shining with flames I could feel but not see. His hands moved purposefully up and down, and when I stepped closer, hesitant and ready to run, he looked up at me, his glassy green eyes set beneath a blood-stained face.

  I flinched and shot back, but the man just went about his business, ignoring me.

  In his lap, a mess of hair and blood colored the night, seeping down the pale white skin and yellow dress of the limp girl lying there, her head buried facedown against his knees. A great gaping rip had opened the flesh along her spine, and the man rocked back and forth over her, stitching her skin closed from the top of her neck, down.

  “What happened?”

  “She loved me,” he said. “She trusted me. She was the only one who ever did, and I hurt her.”

  “Jason?” I touched his shoulder.

  “I can’t make her smile again.” He stopped rocking and looked up at me. “Look what I did to her. Look how broken she is.”

  We both looked back at the girl, and almost as if he forgot I was here, his song started again with a new kind of melody, laden with a sliver of malice, as he continued his vain attempt to suture her up. But she couldn’t be fixed. She was damaged beyond repair, and no matter how tight he pulled that stitch, she would never look at him again.

  “Jason.” I tried to make him see, tried to make him realize I was here, but he was lost in his own agony, too far gone for me to save. He was with her, in whatever Hell they had been dragged down to.

  “Oh, Ara.” He lifted the girl, making her spine bend in an unnatural way, and cradled the back of her head against his face. “Ara. Ara. Ara,” he said, over and over again.

  It started echoing away, becoming a ghostly call, like a wild wind howling through the treetops. I looked up, heard it resonate from over the hill, somewhere out there in the darkness.

  Ara.

  I looked behind me.

  Ara.

  My eyes flashed open to a dark room, my blanket scrunched in a tight fist, the cry of the wind living outside my dream. It howled again, screaming my name. So I jumped out of bed and wandered slowly across my room, following the noise. It was so dark I bumped my leg on several things as my bare feet fell carefully over the floorboards and rugs beneath them. When I reached the fireplace, the sound of my name being screamed carried up the emptiness inside it and whirled around my head.

  “Aaaaarraaaaa!”

  I grabbed the mantle and leaned in, holding my breath, but the noise stopped.

  “Hello?” I called cautiously, squatting down, placing flat palms on the hearth. It was empty, deep, nothing but a draft and the smell of soot and ash inside. I crawled into the hollow a little, praying nothing creepy sprung out and grabbed me.

  And the noise came again. I lifted my head, rocked back on my heels and looked around. It wasn’t coming from the fireplace; it was coming from the wall.

  I was just about to rush across my room and flick the light on, when I heard glass breaking down the hall. I ran for the door, yanked it open and looked past Falcon to the end of the corridor. Arthur came out from his room, cursing to himself, and walked toward the stairs, carrying his stone mixing bowl.

  “What’s going on?” I asked Falcon.

  He shrugged. “Nothing. Why?”

  “I heard screaming.”

  His eyes narrowed. “It was probably just a bad dream. I haven’t heard anything.”

  I nodded, but I knew I heard it, even if he didn’t. “I don’t expect you to understand, Falcon, so you can follow me if you want to, but don’t stop me. I need to see what Arthur’s up to.”

  I took off walking, vaguely mindful that Falcon was behind me, and also extremely glad. That noise was a sound of pure terror. The person who screamed it was a lost soul, suffering an agony that couldn’t be repaired. I had to find them. I had to set them free.

  When I came upon the second-floor landing, Arthur was already gone. I spun around a few times, trying to catch his scent.

  Falcon cleared his throat and pointed toward the west wing.

  “Thanks, Falcon.”

  “Don’t mention it,” he said, and we started walking.

  The noise continued down here, and this time, I knew Falcon heard it. He went stiff, coming up quickly beside me. “What is that?” he said.

  “That’s the screaming I heard.”

  A door popped open at the end of the hall, and Falcon grabbed my arm, pulling me closer to the wall. I let myself breathe again and shrugged out of my knight’s grip as the man who emerged approached.

  “Arthur?” I said.

  “Ara?” He stopped dead. “What are you doing out of bed?”

  “I could ask you the same thing.” I nodded to the bowl. “What happened?”

  He looked weary, worn. He rubbed his brow and walked past me. “Night terrors.”

  “Night terrors?” I looked at Jason’s door. “Is he okay?”

  “He’s asleep now. As should you be.”

  “I heard my name being called.”

  Arthur dropped his hand from his brow and pressed it to my back, guiding me down the corridor. “He was calling for you in his sleep.”

  “Why?”

  He sighed. “Who do you think he was dreaming about?”

  My heart tightened. “Is it… does he dream about the tortu—”

  “Yes,” he cut in. “Leave it in the past, Amara. It’s late.”

  And that was that. He walked ahead and disappeared, leaving me in the darkness of the second-floor corridor.

  I looked up at Falcon. “Night terrors.”

  He nodded. “Guilty conscience.”

  “But he shouldn’t be feeling guilt.”

  “He wouldn’t be human if he didn’t, Ara.”

  I smiled. “He’s not human.”

  “Yes, he is. He’s just an immortal human.”

  * * *

  The evening chatter seemed to be louder tonight, the people alive with the presence of our newcomer. And though I was feeling quite refreshed from having seen my husband yesterday, I still found myself looking at his empty chair.

  Morgaine hardly took her eyes off Mike all night, and he’d hardly touched his food, even Eric was quiet. None of the knights were yelling jokes down the table at each other and the tell-tale sign
that Arthur was in some deep pit of turmoil was when Margret forced her opinions around about the reign of Genghis Kahn, and he just sat there with nothing to say. Her theories were enough to make me choke. In fact, the only time Arthur came to life was to rap Jason across the back of the head every time he leaned forward to gawk at me.

  On the bright side, at least Mike and Arthur shared one thing in common, for once: they both wanted to flatten Jason.

  The same conversations we’d had nearly every night continued down the table, except, tonight, Jason was joining in. I tuned out most of it, since it was irrelevant. My husband was alive, so who the father of my child should be really wasn’t important, nor was it worth debating.

  “These discussions have gone on long enough,” Walter said. “Fact is, we need a new king and an heir—the prophecy is of little significance at this point.”

  “Well, I’ll do it.” Jason shrugged; everyone looked at him. “Even if the queen doesn’t love me, I’ll be more than happy to step into my brother’s role.”

  “And what a powerful king you would be,” Old Margret said, grinning bashfully at Jason. “I’ve only heard stories of your talents.”

  He winked at her. “Even then, I bet you haven’t heard the half of it.”

  You tease!

  He looked over at me and scratched his nose, attempting to hide his laughter.

  “Yes, imagine the gifts their child—our future queen—would possess,” Walter said.

  “Remarkable,” another said.

  “I still believe she should pair with Arthur. He is, after all, a firstborn son,” a vampire woman said. “Perhaps we can achieve the prophecy child, and I am sure Arthur would make a great king.”

  “Can we stop deliberating who my best friend needs to have sex with, please?” Mike said and dropped his head into hands. “We’re at the damn dinner table, for God’s sake.”

  I reached over and pried his hand away from his hair. “It’s okay, Mike.”

  “No. It’s not.” He looked around at everyone. “Forget the prophecy child. She is not having sex with him or him!” He pointed at both Arthur and Jason.

  “I disagree. I think she should unite with her former husband’s brother. If the prophecy child was supposed to be with blood of David Knight, then surely his own DNA would suffice in place.”

  “Yes, in magic this works, too,” Gray Beard said. “With a spell based on one’s blood, a twin can offer themselves up in place.”

  “But,” the other gray-beard man said, “our runes never predicted anything which indicated your child need be blood of a firstborn, or that she would be powerful—only that there were two options: one path would lead to the end of all this, the other would see it resolved but not final.”

  A few arguments broke out across the table. I looked at Morgaine.

  “Ara, what matters is what Drake believes,” she said, obviously sensing my confusion. “He’s the one we’re running from.”

  “Okay, but what does it matter if we have a prophecy child or not, I—”

  “Because she is the one foretold to free the Damned,” Morg said, practically singing each word out in an impatient tone.

  “I disagree.” I folded my arms, finally ready to challenge her. “You said the prophecy foretold her making a change, seeing an end to Drake, not that no one else could.”

  “I agree with Ara,” Jason said, smiling as if he’d been in our conversation the whole time. “Our queen may actually be the key.”

  “Shut up, Jason. You’re just saying that because you want to be the one who fathers the child!” Morgaine spat.

  Jason sat back in his chair, his smug grin making him look incredibly cute. “Last I checked, prophecies foretold events that happen. If this child were meant to be with my brother, he wouldn’t have died. It was always meant to be me.”

  “I agree,” said a woman. “I say they marry at once.”

  Mike spat his food out on his plate, coughing.

  “Well, for now we’ll just see what happens.” I looked at Mike then Arthur. “Jason and I aren’t even together.”

  “Well, Your Majesty, you have a duty to uphold.” Margret sipped her drink, her pinkie in the air beside her goblet. “I agree with Francine; you should marry tomorrow and conceive immediately.”

  “Now, just a minute.” Mike stood up. “Ara is only nineteen. There are plenty of years for a child.”

  “That may be so”—Arthur stood too and glared at me—“but she has a responsibility to her people. If there is a possibility of a child, she should take it.”

  “That’s it. There are to be no more discussions about this,” Mike said, slamming his hands on the table.

  “Perhaps you’d be more willing to discuss it if you were among the options,” Arthur said.

  “This has nothing to do with my feelings for Ara. She is a young girl, goddamn it, and I won’t see her forced to have a child with someone she doesn’t love.”

  “Well you’ve got no choice. Neither does she.” Arthur pointed at me, his face red with fury. “None of us bloody well do.” His voice softened on the end and he walked briskly from the room, shaking his head.

  A wash of stunned silence rolled over the table until, one by one, everyone went back to their meals and Mike sat down.

  “Mike?”

  He looked at me, clearly biting his teeth together inside his mouth.

  “None of this matters.” I motioned around the table, referring to the topic of childbearing with other men. “Our informant will see to it.”

  He looked around, probably checking no one caught on to my not-so-cryptic remark. “That’s not what this is about, Ara.”

  “Well, what are you so upset about?”

  He sat back in his chair, shaking his head, then exhaled and pushed out from the table.

  “Mike?” I called, but he kept walking.

  “Wow, this party is getting smaller and smaller,” Morgaine noted.

  “What’s wrong with him, Morg?”

  “He’ll be all right,” she said. “He was kind of hoping the people wouldn’t support a union with anyone else for a while.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they can make you marry and sleep with Jason if that’s who they choose.”

  “Make me sleep with him?”

  “Yes. Why do you think Lilith hated Peter so much?”

  “Oh.” I smiled down at my empty plate.

  “Yes, but what he’s worried about is that”—she blushed shyly—“I don’t know what you know about history, but when a royal is married, the consummation is witnessed by the highest-ranking members of your House. You would marry Jason and then Mike would have to watch as you…”

  “Really?” All the blood left my body.

  “He’ll just have to get over it,” Jason said, sitting in Mike’s chair.

  Morgaine’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. “You’d better hope Mike doesn’t come back and see you sitting—”

  “Shut up, Morg.” He threw a pea at her from Mike’s plate. “I’m not afraid of him.”

  “Should be,” she scoffed under her breath.

  “So”—he grinned, leaning closer—“care to sneak away from this dreary evening?”

  “No way!” Morgaine sat forward, throwing her napkin down.

  I rolled my eyes. “Morg, stay out of it.”

  “No. Mike will freak.”

  “Yeah, and Mike is about this close to getting replaced by Falcon.” I held up an imaginary tiny thing between my fingers. “He needs to chill out. He’s making me tense all the time.”

  “You wouldn’t replace him.”

  “Yes, Morg. I would.” I stood up with Jason. “I can only take so much of his over-protectiveness.”

  “It’s for a good reason, Amara.”

  “Well, Jason is officially my boyfriend now.” I stared her down. “If my advisor”—meaning David—“says it’s a good idea, then you can damn-well go along with it, Morg. Discussion closed.”

&nb
sp; She sat back, folding her arms, practically resting her bottom lip in her lap with its pout.

  * * *

  “I’ve never been in the Garden of Strategy before,” I said, strolling over the squares of marble and grass, patterned like a chessboard.

  “Elysium has one just like it,” Jason said.

  “Did anyone ever hold a game here?” I nodded to the decaying ruins of stone pawns and knights, their cracks bleeding vines and moss.

  “Once.” He nodded, keeping his gaze ahead of us. We strolled along, quiet then, until we reached the end of the manor just below his room and, above that, my windows. We both looked up, my head turning slightly to the side to catch his thoughtful gaze.

  “What is it, Jase?”

  “Can I talk to you in private?”

  “Sure. We could go to the Garden of Lilith,” I suggested. “The guards aren’t allowed in there.”

  He looked over his shoulder to Blade standing in the shadows, playing with his phone, not too concerned about what we were doing or saying. “I’d rather go someplace else they’re not allowed to go.”

  “Where?”

  “Up.” He grabbed my hand, grinning, and jumped into the air, taking me with him. I felt his arms wrap my waist and barely had time to hold my breath before we flew through the open window and into his room.

  “Jerk!” I shoved him when he released me to the safety of the floor.

  He just laughed and wandered over to light a lantern. The room came to life under its golden flame and he sat down on the foot of his bed, placing the lantern on his blanket box. “Come. Sit.”

  I plonked down right on his hand; he moved it, clearly finding my sudden moodiness quite amusing.

  “I’m going to get in trouble now, you know. You should have told me you were gonna do that,” I said.

  “Why? Then Blade could’ve stopped us.”

  “Exactly.” I folded my arms.

  “Don’t do that.” He shoved his hand between the fold and pushed them down. “You know damn well you would have come anyway, if I asked you.”

  I smirked at his smirk. “Okay. Fine. I would. But, just tell me next time you’re going to hoist me a few feet into the air.”