Ascending Darkness

by J. L. Weil

  “How do I break it?” I asked, doing my best to keep calm and not let the surge of panic draw me under.

  Her white eyes dimmed, growing sad. She didn’t have to tell me what I already knew. Not even a goddess had all the answers. “That is your burden to bear, for blood magic is not of my realm, but you must stop death from consuming you.”

  “I don’t know how,” I said softly.

  “I’m sorry, daughter. You must go.” Her arms swept through the water, not giving me the chance to drill her with the millions of questions jumbled inside my head. She created a wave of water that lifted me upward.

  I broke through the surface, sucking in a sharp bite of air that scored my throat, and stared into Torent’s dark eyes.

  “Christ, Mallory,” he swore, dragging me against him. “I swear to God, you ever do that to me again and I’ll drown you myself.”

  Shivering against his chest, I threw my arms around him and clung to his neck. “I’m sorry,” I shuddered.

  Fear and something close to anger smoldered in his gaze. “I thought you drowned.”

  We were wading in the edge of the lake, the moon shining high over our heads.

  “I’m okay.” As long as you keep holding me, I said to myself. But we both must have wanted the same thing, because his arms never let go as he led us out of the water to the rocky shore. “I saw my father,” I said after a few heartbeats.

  “In the lake? You had a vision?”

  I nodded. “Styx gave it to me.”

  His hand reached out for me, and I shivered as he brushed cool wet fingers along my cheek. “Did she give you the answers you were searching for?”

  Tears welled up in my eyes. I was on the verge of losing it. My bottom lip trembled.

  “Shit. I got you,” he murmured, engulfing me in his arms a second time. His hellfire flared to life, keeping me warm from the night’s chill.

  An onslaught of emotions came barreling at me, and I could no longer fight them off. Leaning into Torent, I let him be the strong one, dropping the walls around me and letting the tears come. They racked through my body, shaking my shoulders. It suddenly felt like I had lost control of my life. Just like that. Nothing made sense. Not who I was. Not who my parents were. And at the same time, it all made sense. Why Mom had left. Why we had never come back. What she had been running from—protecting me from.

  It was only a few minutes that I allowed myself to wallow in self-pity. Drying up the tears, I pulled back and glanced up into Torent’s face. I bit my lip. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

  The hand he had moved into my hair came to settle on my cheek, brushing at the dampness. “Come on, let’s get you home. You can tell me what happened on the way.”

  Did I have the strength to tell him what I had seen without the waterworks boiling up a second time? Torent squeezed my hand, and I realized with him at my side, I had more strength then I’d ever had in my life. He gave me courage and fortitude.

  We hiked back through the woods fairly quickly. I had finished relaying all that I had seen and heard while I’d been in Peacock Lake as we emerged from a cluster of pine trees.

  “My girlfriend is hexed. We make quite the pair, you and I,” he said, grabbing my hand to cross the road to his car.

  My lips turned down, and I tried to wiggle my fingers out from his, but he wasn’t letting go. “I’m not your girlfriend.”

  “It’s only a matter of time,” he added with a shit-eating grin.

  Leave it to Torent to make me forget about the blood hex for even the briefest amount of time. He would know exactly what to say to get under my skin.

  We approached his Jeep, and I was more than ready to go home, but before I could reach for the door handle, I found myself pressed up against the cool metal of the car, Torent’s firm body capturing me there. My heart raced at blinding speed, and I cursed him for making me feel like this.

  “Don’t you ever scare me like that again.” His fingers were on my wrists, thumb pressed against the inside of my pulsing vein.

  “It was never my intention. I just wanted answers.” Answers I still didn’t have, but Styx had given me something to start with, and it was more than I had an hour ago.

  He idly traced circles up my forearm. I breathed in the scent of him, earthy and crisp. The combination of his touch and smell caused my stomach to flip.

  “I make you nervous,” he murmured, his lips hovering so close to my cheek his hot breath rushed over my skin. “This thing between us scares you.”

  Lifting my lashes, I met his smoldering eyes. “And it doesn’t you?”

  “You should be a little afraid. You bring out the darkness inside me.” Gold flecks brightened in the center of his irises, and I saw he was on the verge of losing control, but the problem was, I was right there with him.

  His lips came down on mine, not soft or gentle, but with a passion that made my heart burst. Did I feel this connection to Torent because we both had something dark and evil in our souls? If that was so, should we be embracing or running from each other? I didn’t know, didn’t have the answers. All I had was this moment and how he made me feel. Beautiful. Powerful. Desired. Loved.

  He broke off the kiss as swiftly as he took my lips, leaving me gasping and aching for more. My hands struggled against the hold he still had on my wrists, dying to dive into his hair and pull him back for more. He was taunting me. His tongue traced my lips, and I shivered, feeling the cool metal of his piercing against my mouth. He took a lazy journey along the column of my throat, sparking electricity wherever he kissed.

  I sighed when he released one of my hands to trace the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip.

  “Open for me,” he whispered, reclaiming my mouth, but this time, his tongue swooped in.

  My entire world fell off balance, and I was spinning wildly out of control. His fingers intertwined with both my hands, and I squeezed, holding onto him for dear life.

  Ending the kiss, he murmured thickly, “I want to be anywhere right now other than here.” A pause lingered in the air between us. “Get in the car. I need to take you home.”

  It was probably a good thing we weren’t somewhere else. With my emotions all mixed up, I didn’t have the energy to refuse what my body and heart clearly wanted. One thing was certain. I wanted Torent. That hadn’t changed.

  Chapter 7

  The house was dark and silent when I got home. Nothing stirred. Feeling like an emotional basket case, I tiptoed to my room, looking for solitude to sort out what I’d learned, besides the fact that I was falling wholeheartedly in love with a demon.

  That was a problem for another night.

  After stripping out of my grimy clothes, I flopped down on my bed, telling myself I wasn’t going to have another pitiful-me moment. For so long, mystery swirled around the man who was my father, but tonight I discovered he was a mage, a detail no one had bothered to share. His aspiration for power had led him down a dark path—the darkest.

  Although I hadn’t inherited his power, I had inherited his blood hex.

  I needed more information about that night. Who was the man my father had murdered with his spell? I had a hunch, but I needed facts. Mom would have been the most accurate source, but she had gone to great lengths to keep this from me. Something told me she wasn’t going to be extremely forthcoming with the details.

  Did she know about the repercussions of that night? About the blood curse? I didn’t know if I was more afraid to find out she did or didn’t. Either way, she had hidden this from me, had lied to me.

  Thinking about the man I never got the chance to understand and only dreamt about caused my heart to tighten. Abandonment was a strange thing, inducing emotions that appeared in sporadic patterns. At this point in my life, I rarely thought about the man who fathered me. He had become only a tiny piece of my past that was better left in the past. I did have those few days a year I wallowed, becoming a little girl who wanted nothing more than to see her father . . . just once. Then I
’d stepped foot into Havenwood Falls, and it seemed the past was determined to taint my future.

  I had so many questions, most of them not good.

  As a child, I learned to stop seeking those answers from Mom. Seeing how upset they made her was enough to have me biting my tongue. I hated to cause her sadness, and it was evident my father was the source of deep scars that had never healed.

  Rolling over, I swung my feet off the bed to grab my laptop. Time to slap on my cryptic detector. If there was one thing my generation had skills at, it was the Internet.

  I slunk behind my desk and opened my computer. It was amazing what you could find on the web—and truly frightening at the same time. When the Google homepage came up, I took a deep breath and typed in his name.

  Roth Dorian.

  How many times had I searched his name over the Internet? A hundred at least, but not once did I get a hit on a Roth Dorian from Havenwood Falls. Why would this time be any different?

  Except . . . it was.

  My heart beat triple time in my chest at the results scrolling down the screen. Headlines from the Sun & Moon Tribune popped out at me, causing a sick twist in my stomach. A part of me wanted to believe the vision had been false—a lie. My father couldn’t possibly be a murderer, because if he was, what would that mean for me? Did that mean I was truly doomed?

  I mulled over the words on the screen:

  Breaking news. Family seeks answers after the mysterious death of their son.

  One dead in an apparent murder, rocking the small town of Havenwood Falls.

  Roth Dorian convicted of murdering his best friend.

  Local news had chronologically documented the events. Something or someone in Havenwood Falls had kept it from leaking out. It was the only explanation, which meant it was definitely supernatural causes that had killed . . .

  What had been his name—the poor guy my father had chosen to play God with?

  I clicked on one of the headlines, skimming through the text. It was dated six months from the month and year I was born. His name jumped off the screen, and my temples started throbbing. It couldn’t be.

  Ryle Kendall.

  Suddenly pieces of the puzzle were fitting together. I’d stake my nymph powers on Ryle being related to Brooklyn and the root of the rift between our families. Who could blame them? My father had murdered someone they loved, but just who had Ryle Kendall been?

  Scrolling further down, a picture caught my eye. I gaped at my father’s image from over eighteen years ago. Seeing the man who was responsible for my creation made my belly tangle in knots. He had changed from the single picture Mom had tucked away in a keepsake box. I used to sneak into her room and climb into the back of the closet, playing with the trinkets and staring at the smiling man with his arm around Mom. They had seemed so young and happy in that second captured by film.

  But in his mug shot from that horrific day, he appeared older, harder, and cynical. His auburn hair was disheveled. Long lashes surrounded vibrant green eyes, no longer twinkling with lightheartedness. I had his slim nose and almond-shaped eyes. It was weird staring at him and seeing parts of myself.

  Murderer. Murderer. Murderer.

  The word stared back at me as if it was flashing in neon lights, bold and bright on every screen.

  With an exasperated oath, I snapped my laptop closed and faced the view outside my window—tall oak and aspen trees towered toward the sky, glittering with a dusting of white snow.

  I toyed with the end of my braid. My father had killed Brooklyn’s relative. No wonder her family hated mine. I couldn’t believe Mom had any involvement. She wouldn’t have.

  This had to be the reason she had run from Havenwood Falls.

  I spent the rest of the weekend stressing over what I was going to do with the information I’d learned. Torent texted me a few times to check on me. I was grateful for his support. Dealing with this on my own would have sucked.

  Multiple times on Sunday I tried to work up the nerve to talk with Mom, ask her what had happened that night, but the right time never came up. Or maybe it was me. Maybe I wasn’t ready.

  Monday came before I knew it, and I realized who I needed to talk to. It wouldn’t be easy, but she could fill in some of the remaining holes.

  I was dreading lunch, knowing it was the only time to corner Brooklyn. My stomach twisted like a pretzel, and I was positive I wouldn’t be able to eat without hurling.

  Taking a seat at my usual table, my knee whacked into the edge, and I swore. My nails scraped against my teeth as I chewed on them, watching Brooklyn strut into the cafeteria like she was queen. She liked to make an entrance and was often the last to arrive, which only prolonged the nerves scrambling inside me.

  Beck snuck up behind me. “Why do you look like the green hot dogs they serve on Wednesday?” He slid into the chair next to mine.

  I gritted my teeth. “Because I feel like one.”

  He raised a brow.

  “I have to talk to Brooklyn,” I explained with anguish.

  A grim expression crawled onto his face. “Do you have a death wish?” he hissed.

  “Today, I do.” Staring at the table where Brooklyn and her sidekicks, Leena and Cora, were sitting, I drew in a breath. Stalling was my specialty. Instead of stalking straight up to her and unleashing what I had on my chest, I quickly gave Beck a rundown of my date with Torent.

  “That is some serious family baggage.” He ran a hand through his blueberry-colored hair. “Do you really think you’re hexed?”

  “I don’t want to believe it, but there is definitely something happening to me.”

  “God, this is so messed up. You’re too nice of a person to be cursed by something your father did.”

  I rubbed my eyes, suddenly bone tired. “Thanks.”

  Beck glanced over at Brooklyn’s table with wary eyes. “Good luck,” he whispered and patted me between my shoulder blades. “I got your back if shit goes south.”

  I hoped it didn’t come to that. The last thing I wanted was another confrontation with Brooklyn in front of the school. Forgoing food, I grabbed a vanilla shake and weaved my way through the cluster of tables toward the center of the cafeteria. Brooklyn and her friends always sat in the same spot, the table directly in front of the large window.

  Brooklyn saw me immediately. She was chatting with Leena and Cora, twisting her midnight hair around her finger. Cora laughed at something Brooklyn said, but Brooklyn’s lips puckered when I stopped at their table. She narrowed her dark blue eyes. Everything about Brooklyn reminded me of an untamed tsunami, and for a second, I thought about turning around and leaving.

  No.

  I would solve nothing by chickening out and hiding in my room, pretending the problem didn’t exist. Things would only get worse. The only way to break this blood hex was to find out more about its origin, and I needed Brooklyn to do that.

  My nails tapped on the table. “Mind if I join you?”

  “Yes, I do mind,” Brooklyn snapped. “We don’t associate with trash.”

  I had expected nothing less than a cold welcome from my fellow nymph. Ignoring her ill behavior, I plopped my ass into the seat beside Leena, not caring if I pissed her off. She was already always angry with me. The entire room went on edge, wondering what would happen next. Our complicated relationship was no secret at school, so the stares and whispers were expected. I glanced at Brooklyn, Cora, and Leena. The four of us were nymphs. We should have been friends, but circumstances made that impossible.

  And that was why I was here.

  I wanted to know what information Brooklyn had. She might be able to fill in all the holes about that night, and with any luck, she would know something about the blood hex, but I needed to be careful. The last thing I wanted was for Brooklyn to use it against me somehow.

  “I need your help,” I stated, meeting her directly in the eyes.

  Brooklyn threw her head back and laughed. “That’s rich. Why would I ever help you?” Her voice h
ad grown louder.

  My stomach clenched, but I forced my lips into a half smile. “You’re going to make a scene, huh?”

  Leena and Cora had become very interested in their salads. I couldn’t blame them. Brooklyn had a way of drawing attention, even negative attention.

  She flipped her hand over, examining her hot-pink-painted nails. “Is there a time I don’t?”

  My chest heaved. “Fine. Let me get to the point. We’ve already established you hate me. I’m not looking to be BFFs. I have some questions.”

  Her eyes hardened. “You’ve got five minutes before I give you the shock of your life.”

  She wasn’t kidding. Brooklyn would be the kind of supe who wouldn’t care about rules. No magic in front of humans, so it would be wise to heed her warning.

  “You said my father was evil. I know he was convicted of murdering someone in your family,” I said, getting straight to the point. I didn’t have time to beat around the bush.

  Leena and Cora both let out audible gasps, hands flying to their mouths. I took it Brooklyn hadn’t told her besties about the strife between our families.

  The expression on her pretty face could have been construed as impressed—or maybe it was haughtiness. It was hard to tell. “I can’t believe it has taken you so long to figure out. He was my uncle, my father’s brother. I was deprived of knowing him, thanks to your father.”

  I didn’t think this would be easy, but Brooklyn was going to make it worse than swallowing a mouthful of bile. “Looks like we have more in common than either of us would like.”

  She scoffed. “I’m nothing like you.”

  “Whatever. I didn’t have time to make you a list, and I don’t want to argue. What I want to know is if you have any information on what happened that night.”

  Her dainty shoulders shrugged. Brooklyn loved nothing more than having the knowledge I wanted. It gave her an edge. But she surprised me by divulging information. “Only what I’ve been told, that your father was a power-hungry warlock who turned to the dark side. His dabbling in black magic corrupted his heart and soul. My mom and my uncle, who was a year younger, had been friends with your mother. When your mom noticed things had changed inside your father, she wanted to leave him and turned to my mom for help. Your mother knew your father wouldn’t let her go easily, especially if he found out she was pregnant, which he had. The three of them sought the help of a witch to perform a spell that would sever any ties with your father, including memories of your mom being pregnant.”