The Dark

by Cheyenne McCray

  My hair’s plastered to my head and cheeks, and my jeans and T-shirt are so soaked they stick to my body. Damn rain. My arms ache from fighting Stormcutters with the Mystwalker knife that is beyond effective against Darkwolf’s creations.

  No, D’Anu do not kill.

  But thanks to my murdering Mackenzie, which resulted in the D’Anu’s separation, each witch is a solitary practitioner. We now each have our own individual guidelines.

  I hold back a smile as images of the other witches come to mind. They fought with ferocity and anger, using a combination of magic and the Mystwalker knife.

  They aren’t so untarnished now, are they?

  I catch sight of Copper and Silver, but none of the others. Perhaps Darkwolf and I are lucky enough that the rest died on the battlefield.

  No. There’s Hannah with her disgusting Drow King husband.

  I really hate that snotty rich bitch. Maybe I’ll kill her next.

  I turn my attention on the oh-so-perfect Silver Ashcroft, who is using her magic to heal a gouge in Copper’s arm. She glances at me but quickly averts her gaze.

  Better yet, Silver and her baby should die.

  Yes.

  I imagine Darkwolf’s pleasure as I eliminate the other witches one by one. They’ll be frantic wondering who’ll die next, and how. Before anyone can catch me, I’ll get out and let them wonder where I went.

  Darkwolf gave me the ability to use the transference when we’re ready. Our mental connection is strong, much stronger once I killed Mackenzie and embraced the dark sorcery that I used to commit the murder.

  How he’ll thank me for ridding us of more of the D’Anu.

  Who cares about death, about the stench of battle?

  Darkwolf’s going to fuck me.

  I’ll share in Darkwolf and his incredible powers. I’ll rub people’s faces in it, people who always thought I was weak and less-than.

  That’s all I can think about, all I care about.

  I’ll want him to take me over and over, as I’ve imagined countless times while I’ve waited for Darkwolf to come to his rightful power.

  It will be far better with him than Fredrickson or any other one of the PSF officers I have taken secretly, some in their sleep without their knowledge.

  Maybe I’ll have a Marine or two while I wait to be with Darkwolf.

  I need to get a grip. I’m shuddering like a school kid. At least nobody can see my erect nipples beneath my body armor, and I hope they don’t notice the lust in my eyes.

  For appearance’s sake, I kneel beside a dying Marine as if I’m going to save him. I let my magic flow from my hands to his body and I know he’s too weak to be a match for me. I glance around at the hundreds of people on the field and see no one looking, and again I hide a smile.

  I touch the Mystwalker band around my throat and it forms a dagger in an instant. The man’s eyes meet mine a second before I stab him low, where no one can see. The blade pierces his kidneys.

  A strangled sound comes from his throat. His eyes widen and he reaches for me.

  So strong, these Marines.

  I easily block his reach with an invisible barrier and I twist the dagger.

  He coughs more blood before his body slackens and his head lolls to the side, his eyes wide and unseeing like Mackenzie’s had been.

  But her death was far more satisfying.

  Dark sorcery fills me, stronger than ever before. The Marine’s murder enhances my dark powers. I feed on it and know that not one of the other witches can stop me from helping Darkwolf achieve his goals. They don’t even know I’m the one they’re looking for.

  Oh, they suspect me, but only as much as they suspect any other of the D’Anu.

  Let them wonder. It only makes the game more fun.

  30

  Daire clenched his bow and looked over the mass of bodies as he searched for Cassiandra with his gaze.

  The hollowness that had taken residence in his chest since her rejection expanded at the thought of her being one of the many dead scattered across the field.

  I would have felt her death, would I not?

  The loss of such a powerful presence would leave a greater hole in his heart and ache in his chest.

  No, Cassiandra is here. Somewhere close.

  Daire caught a whiff of something exotic over the stench of death. Something strangely enticing that did odd things to his senses. Like the scent of a sun goddess rose twined with myrrh and sweet woman’s perfume.

  He followed the scent while at the same time searching for some sign of Cassiandra. Frustration caused his muscles to bunch and ache.

  Where is the Princess?

  The exotic perfume strengthened as he skirted the dead and wounded until he reached the far end of the field.

  Cassiandra’s powerful presence hit him. Relief to know she was alive eased the hollowness in his chest.

  There. On her knees, tending wounded with her magic.

  The honeyed scent he had been following closed in on him, drawing his gaze. A woman approached him, her lips parted as she focused on his face.

  Unlike Elvin females, her hair was short, but still she was one of the most beautiful women he had ever been in the presence of. The human’s features were as exotic and enticing as her perfume. Her breasts swelled beneath her clothing, and her curves begged for his touch.

  As she came closer, he noticed she held something in her hand that had a human symbol on it he couldn’t read.

  Despite the horrors and chaos surrounding them, he found it difficult to tear his gaze from her dark eyes and full lips. Somehow she had cast a spell on him that he couldn’t break. Yet he sensed no magic in her of any kind. She was fully human.

  In moments she was but two steps away from him. She cleared her throat. “Kat DeLuca, Channel 17 News,” she said, and he let the smooth sound of her voice flow through his veins.

  “Why don’t you tell me your name?” Her gaze drifted over his face before she met his eyes again. “And what you are?”

  Surprise tickled his chest as he studied the woman who called herself Kat. How could she not recognize his kind?

  “I am Elvin, of course.” Daire realized he still gripped his bow in his fist. He slung it over his shoulder. “I am known as Daire.”

  “Daire.” The way she said his name sent a swirl of need through his body. It was as if they were alone in another time, another realm.

  She raised the thing she held and brought it close to her mouth, and it was as if she was speaking to the black ball atop it. “That would explain the pointed ears. Where do you come from?”

  “Otherworld,” he replied when she put the ball in front of him before drawing it back.

  He frowned as movement caught his attention.

  A man stood behind Kat, wielding a black box on his shoulder. Daire saw his own reflection in a circle of glass on the box.

  His senses vibrated with the wrongness the thing projected. What the man carried needed to be destroyed. Immediately.

  Daire’s muscles tightened as he raised his hand and released invisible energy directly at the black box. His magic hit the thing with such force that it flew from the man’s grip.

  Daire’s power flung the box against something high and hard, like gray stone only completely smooth. The impact shattered the box, the crash loud before its many parts scattered across the wet ground.

  “What the—” the man started with fury in his voice.

  But when Daire raised his palm again and faced it toward the man, his anger quickly turned to palpable fear.

  “Uh. Hey. No harm done.” He turned and slipped in the mud before he fled from where Daire and Kat remained.

  “So much for that.” Kat tossed the thing she’d been holding onto the ground, where it landed with a thick splash in a slick of muck.

  “What is that?” He glanced from the thing Kat had thrown over her shoulder back to her beautiful features.

  “A microphone,” she said almost absently as she looked
past him. Her features paled as her gaze swept the battlefield. “Somehow all of this didn’t seem real when I held the microphone with a cameraman standing behind me.”

  Kat brought her hand to her side and winced as she slid her palm down the material that covered her. “Even with these wounds as a reminder.” A look of fear and pain flickered in her eyes as if she was remembering something terrible.

  “Are you injured?” he asked, taking in her body from head to toe but seeing nothing that remotely appeared as if she’d been touched during the battle.

  “This injury was from—” She shook her head. “If Jake hadn’t been there to save me after that demon got to me, I’d be dead.”

  Heat curled in Daire’s belly at the mention of the human’s name. The human who was attempting to steal Cassiandra from him.

  Daire cocked his head in thought. Somehow he had forgotten about the Princess in these few moments he had been enthralled with Kat.

  Even though Daire did not like the human male, he felt a surge of gratefulness at the fact Jake had saved this woman’s life.

  An expression of hurt and sadness, if not a little anger, crossed Kat’s face as she stared at the battlefield. “There’s Jake, with the woman he left me for, a so-called witch.”

  Daire followed her gaze and saw Jake kneeling beside Princess Cassiandra, next to an injured human.

  Oddly, the sight of Jake and Cassiandra together did not bring the familiar pang to the hollowness in Daire’s chest. Instead he found himself more aware of the human woman beside him.

  “I should be helping instead of standing around watching and reporting all of this tragedy to people who don’t have a clue.” Kat sounded angry with herself, and he looked back at her. “I’ve been hiding behind that microphone ever since all of this—whatever it is—started.”

  She met Daire’s gaze. “I thought I was helping by reporting everything that’s been happening.” She tilted her chin, and resolution filled her gaze and tightened her features. “But all I’ve really done is sensationalize these horrors that have been destroying our people and our city.”

  Daire had been so captivated by Kat that he, too, had failed to perform his duty.

  He bowed low, and surprise lit her dark eyes as he rose.

  “Come,” he said. “We shall do what we can to aid your people.”

  31

  Cassia used her healing magic on a Marine who had taken a Stormcutter dagger to one of his lungs. Thank the goddess his injuries weren’t beyond what healing abilities she possessed.

  When the Marine breathed easier, the hole in his lung repaired with her magic. Cassia looked up at Jake, who had stopped at her side. He had been tending other wounded with a human first aid kit the last time she had seen him.

  In the stadium lights he appeared tired, frustrated, and angry from battle. But his expression softened when their gazes met.

  Jake crouched beside Cassia. “Sure you’re okay?”

  “Not a scratch.” With her magic and her eyes she scanned his mud-and blood-covered body, and she felt or saw nothing life-threatening. Shallow wounds at best.

  “Cassiandra.” The familiar male voice caused her to jerk her attention up to see Daire standing above her.

  “Daire!” Such incredible gratitude welled inside her that tears stung her eyes.

  Despite the muck and blood covering her, she pushed herself up from where she knelt and flung herself against Daire.

  “Thank you for coming.” She sniffled and rested her head against his chest. “You and our people saved countless lives.”

  He held her for a moment, and the familiar comfort of such a close friend embraced her.

  She drew away and tilted her head up to look into the intensity of his green eyes.

  “I petitioned the Elders when I visioned your need.” He rubbed his hands up and down her arms, and studied her from head to toe as if making certain she had suffered no injuries.

  “To my great astonishment, they acquiesced the moment I asked it of them. As soon as our warriors had prepared for battle, the Great Guardian sent us to this San Francisco Otherworld. I think it was she who influenced the Elders.”

  Surprise tingled through Cassia. Had her mother truly helped, even though she had said she would not?

  All that mattered now was that the Light Elves were here.

  Cassia completely stepped out of Daire’s grasp when she came to the full realization that Jake was at her side.

  Jake’s expression was hard, but he wiped muck off his hand onto his jeans and reached out to shake Daire’s hand.

  “Thank you doesn’t say enough,” Jake said. “Showing up like you did—I don’t think there would have been anything left of us if you hadn’t.”

  Daire took Jake’s hand and gave him a slight nod before they released each other’s grip. “We have come to join your Alliance until this threat is eliminated.”

  Cassia let out a long exhale and silently offered her thanks to the goddess Anu. The Light Elves were staying—this wasn’t a onetime shot.

  Daire glanced across the field of bodies to where Light Elves tended to the wounded. “We are a thousand strong.”

  Cassia looked up at Jake. “The abilities and magic of the Light Elves are such that it is more like three thousand of them have joined us,” she said.

  Jake nodded. “They were pretty impressive.”

  She became aware of someone watching her and met the gaze of Jake’s previous girlfriend, who stood off to one side. Cassia’s face burned due to the fact that she was the reason why Jake had broken up with Kat.

  Kat DeLuca glanced from Cassia to Jake. “What can I do to help?”

  Jake raised his brows. “You’re not reporting for the news station?”

  “No.” Kat glanced at the devastation and back to Jake. “Right now there are more important things to do.”

  Jake gave Kat an expression of approval. “We can use all the help we can get.” He gestured to the field. “Let us know when you find someone who’s injured so we can take care of them. We’re running low, but more trucks with first aid supplies should be here any moment.”

  Kat nodded and turned away. As he joined her, Daire said, “Many of my people can use healing magic on those we find who might still live.”

  “Healing magic?” Kat’s voice drifted back as she moved across the field with Daire.

  Cassia stared at the vast number of dead and wounded. It all looked surreal beneath the stadium’s lights. A fist lodged in her throat and tears slipped down her cheeks. This city was being torn apart.

  And so was she.

  A few days had passed since the massacre in the stadium, and the Alliance was no closer to figuring out where Darkwolf was now than they had been before.

  Jake rubbed his forehead with his thumb and forefinger as he paced back and forth in the Alliance’s command center.

  At the moment he was alone in the almost totally closed-in room. The door was open but the lights were off. The large wall monitors, various computers, and other equipment gave the place an eerie glow.

  He clenched his fist in frustration as he brought his hand away from his face. The Alliance didn’t even know how many Stormcutters Darkwolf had created. For all the Alliance knew, the warlock-god had thousands more that he’d kept hidden someplace else.

  Darkwolf could have his army scattered in every city around the Bay area.

  The anger burning in Jake’s chest had never let up since that last battle.

  Volunteers from the Red Cross, police, and fire and rescue had flowed in from all over the nation when the dark goddess mummified thousands and thousands of people just a few short weeks ago.

  Because that time the bodies had been nothing but withered husks, there had been no decomposition or disease. The bodies had been moved to one of the buildings in the city.

  The volunteers and the National Guard had worked around the clock to identify the dead and to be certain people received burial or disposal in accordance with th
eir religious beliefs. Even with the tremendous number of volunteers, they were still working on the beyond-daunting task.

  Now, after the battle with Darkwolf, a “morgue” had been set up in one of the buildings with cold storage to prevent disease, and to process bodies quickly.

  More volunteers continued to flow into San Francisco, but with so many dead from the dark goddess’s massacre, and now Darkwolf’s, there weren’t enough people to handle it all.

  Speaking of not enough people—or beings—if those fifteen thousand Marines Bourne had promised didn’t show up soon, things could go from bad to worse in a hurry.

  He hoped Darkwolf wasn’t churning out an army that could match what they had coming after him.

  But the god-stopping gun—Jake’s weapons team was nearly finished. They were waiting for one difficult-to-obtain, highly dangerous material that Jake and his men were going to have to beg, borrow, or steal in order to get.

  For the time being the Light Elves, Drow, and Mystwalkers had returned to their homes, until their commanders summoned them. Daire had stayed to represent the Light Elves in the Alliance, and Alaia remained for the Mystwalkers.

  Due to the fact that Kat was human, and Daire had previously shown a clear dislike of humans, Jake found it amusing that Daire was spending so much time with her.

  She had begun dropping by HQ, minus her microphone and reporter’s ID badge. To help or just to be with Daire, he wasn’t sure.

  But one thing was sure—he was a lot happier with them hanging together than having Daire panting around Cassia. Maybe he’d given up on this whole having-sex-with-Cassia-transition thing.

  Otherwise Jake just might have to kill the sonofabitch.

  “Jake?” Cassia’s voice brought him to a stop from pacing and he faced her.

  She was so beautiful. A bright light in such dark times.

  “Are you all right?” She moved toward him.

  His body tightened as he caught her sweet scent of vanilla, sunshine, and spices, which carried to him over the warehouse’s now too familiar smells.

  He didn’t know how much longer he could take being with her but not being with her. He needed her in every way he could have her, in every sense of the word.