Darkening Chaos: Book Three of The Destroyer Trilogy

by DelSheree Gladden

  “Come on, Libby, we’ve always celebrated our birthdays with each other. Every year we’ve done something special,” he argues.

  He’s right, of course. For seventeen years we have spent our birthdays together. The only one we’ve missed was Lance’s last birthday. But that was back when I hated him for trying to kill me and he hated me for being the Destroyer. He forgave me for missing his party.

  “Will you pick me up for school tomorrow?” I ask, biting my lip to keep it from trembling.

  “Milo isn’t picking you up?” he asks.

  “I didn’t ask him,” I admit. “I don’t think he wants to.”

  “What happened? I thought he was starting to cool off.”

  Lance didn’t like Milo to start with, and time hasn’t changed that. He has never wanted me to be with him. When Braden appeared, after Lance was sure he wasn’t trying to kill me, he was all for me ditching Milo. I know he can’t stand Milo, but for the last few weeks he’s been extra cooperative and pleasant with him for my benefit. Why I want to stay with Milo is a mystery to him, but he worries about me being happy.

  “Milo found out I’m watching over Braden,” I say.

  Lance sighs. He wanted to help me out with Braden, and he has a few times, but with school and the Ciphers and Seekers, he didn’t have enough time. “Sorry, Libby. What did he say?”

  “Nothing I didn’t deserve, probably.” I let my gaze wander from the compound and ask Lance the question that has been plaguing me. “Am I wrong to protect Braden?”

  “No,” he says, “but I understand why Milo is angry about it.”

  “I do to. I really do, but I can’t not do it.”

  Lance turns to look at me. “The reason I can feel your emotional responses through the bond and Milo can’t is because I know you better than he does. I know that regardless of that fact that you are ridiculously in love with Braden, your need to protect him doesn’t have nearly as much to do with loving him as it does with who you are. It wouldn’t matter who was in Braden’s situation. You would be bound and determine to protect whoever it was, because it’s the right thing to do. I can see that. Milo can’t.”

  I smile, my eyes glassy with tears and gratitude. “You really believe that?”

  “Of course I do,” he says. His eyes go back to watching the compound.

  “Thank you, Lance.”

  Feeling a million times better than I did a few seconds ago, I settle in to watch the compound with Lance. Milo will eventually understand what Lance sees. I’m sure he will. If he were in my position, he would be doing the same thing. He just needs a little more time to see it. I can wait. At least, I think I can. Judging from Milo’s ability to hate Guardians, he knows how to hold a grudge better than anyone I’ve ever met. Forgiving me will take time, but time is never something I’ve ever had a lot of.

  “Me driving you to school doesn’t count as something special to do on your birthday,” Lance says, “just so you know.”

  “How about some ice cream after school, then?”

  “Just ice cream? I was thinking dinner and a movie,” Lance says, “but we can do ice cream after the movie if you want. What do you say?”

  Worry starts building in my mind that Lance is trying to take me on a date, a real date. He accepted a while ago that we are only friends now, but that was back when I was dating Milo and trying to not have anything to do with Braden. Maybe he’s given up on both Braden and Milo, and now he sees this as his chance to renew something between us. Part of me is so tempted to see where a real date might lead. I miss being held, being kissed, being told that everything will be okay. I hate going to bed knowing how much I’ve hurt people. It’s tempting, but the answer has to be no. I just can’t be with Lance in that way anymore.

  “Lance, I don’t …”

  “I want you to have fun, take your mind off all this for a while,” he says, gesturing at the silent Guardian compound. “You’ve been so down lately. It makes me worry about you, Libby. I don’t like seeing you like this.”

  “It’s not a good idea, Lance. I like our relationship how it is now. I don’t want to mess that up,” I say, hoping I don’t hurt his feelings.

  Lance is silent for a few seconds, and I’m afraid I’ve offended him until I feel a small stream of amusement drifting out of him. Confused, I have to look over at him. His warm, half smile doesn’t help me figure it out. He catches me staring at him and throws his arm around my shoulder. He tries to hide the laughter in his voice, but fails pretty miserably.

  “Libby, I wasn’t trying to ask you out on a date. I know how you feel about that already.” He pauses and really looks down at me. “And to be honest, I feel the same way, now. I’m glad we’re friends again, and I think that’s how things should stay between us.”

  “Really?” I hope he’s not just saying that for my benefit. The honesty in his mind and emotions is clear, but I still remember the days of him and Milo fighting with each other because of their jealousy.

  His arm tightens around my shoulders. “Really. I didn’t think I’d ever feel that way, but I guess it just kind of snuck up on me. I love you, Libby, and I always will, but it’s changed. Well, I guess not really changed, because I loved you as my best friend before we ever starting dating. So I guess it’s just back to what it was supposed to be in the first place. Does that make sense?”

  For the first time today, I truly relax. I lean into Lance and let the tension in my body go free for a few minutes. “Yeah,” I say, “that makes perfect sense.”

  I can feel his relief and pleasure seeping into me. It’s a nice feeling. At least one of my relationships is still functioning.

  “Actually,” Lance says, “I was thinking that maybe we could invite some of the others to go with us tomorrow. You know, give everyone a chance to unwind a little? Hope especially. She’s still pretty intense about everything. She’ll only come if you do.”

  I can’t really pinpoint anything specific, but something about the way he said her name, or maybe the emotions that popped up when he said it, catch my attention. It’s hard to say her name without sounding at least a little happy. That isn’t it, though. Lance’s fingers drum against my shoulder, a nervous tick he’s always had. What does he have to be nervous about? Suddenly, it clicks.

  “Hope, huh? You been spending much time with her?” I ask.

  “I don’t know. I guess. She doesn’t really have any friends at school, mostly because she scares people away, but people know she’s with us, too. Anyone who isn’t with us treats her like she has the plague, and even the people on our side are scared of her. I, uh, I’ve been walking with her to class and stuff,” Lance says, stumbling through it. The something odd that struck my attention earlier gets stronger. Embarrassment.

  I laugh, and revel in a moment of happiness. “Lance, do you like Hope?”

  He freezes. “No. I mean sure. She’s nice enough.” Lance stops himself, because Hope really isn’t that nice. Maybe she would be if she weren’t so angry all the time. “I don’t know, Libby. I feel like an idiot. She pretty much ignores me most of the time unless I’m talking about missions, and she glares at me constantly, but I just really like her for some reason. Am I crazy?”

  “Is this what convinced you to be okay with me and you not being together anymore?” I ask through another laugh.

  His sheepish smile makes me laugh even harder. This is just too funny. It was strange enough that Lance, Mr. Quarterback, handsome, flirty, rich, generally amazing guy ended up with weirdo-me. He should be dating the cheer captain and hosting the most outrageous parties. Instead, he’s watching a motionless Guardian compound with me and finding himself attracted to an angry, although quite pretty, slightly homicidal teenage girl. These are the kinds of things that make it hard for me to believe in destiny. It’s just too strange.

  When I finally quit laughing, I say, “I don’t think you’re crazy, Lance. I think it’s nice that you’ve found someone else you’re interested in, even if she does
scare me a little.”

  He grimaces, and I nudge him playfully.

  “I’m just kidding. I’m sure Hope is a really great girl. She’s just been through a lot. I can’t imagine being held prisoner by the Guardians for eight months. I bet what she really needs is a friend to show her that everything isn’t as bad as she thinks it is. I definitely think you should take her to a movie.”

  “So, you’ll come?” he asks.

  I shake my head. “Thanks, but I actually have something else I need to do tomorrow. Maybe we can see a movie this weekend.” On the weekend, Daniel is free to watch Braden’s house for me.

  “What do you need to do tomorrow?”

  “You know no one else is free to watch Braden. At some point, Drake is going to show back up. I’m afraid of what will happen to Braden if he doesn’t let me protect him,” I say. My throat constricts as I think of someone hurting Braden. No matter who it is, it would be my fault. I let him get captured. I didn’t rescue him in time. I stripped him of the only way he had to protect himself. My eyes fill with stinging tears. If I can’t keep him safe, I don’t deserve to win this fight.

  Lance sighs next to me and stares out at the compound below us. “And you miss him.”

  “And I miss him,” I whisper. A thought traitorous to Milo, but true, regardless. Renegade tears slip past my control and plop down on my jeans. I miss him so much. It’s been torture waiting for him to do … something. Worse than when he was taken. At least then, I could still believe he loved me. I thought for sure Braden really loved me before, but the way he ran when our link was broken, the fact that he refuses to see anyone, including me, makes me wonder if it was only an illusion after all. Almost as much as my promise to Milo, facing him and finding out for sure whether his love for me was all forced keeps me from making contact. If everything I’ve put him through wasn’t bad enough, I’ve also put him in incredible danger. More tears fall and it starts getting harder to breathe.

  That one morning, I kissed him. It wasn't the sneak attack from the first time he kissed me, or the sudden rush of elation when I stopped him from killing me, or the quick secretive touches and looks he would give when I wasn’t expecting them. For the first time, I kissed him because I honestly wanted to. I wanted nothing more than him at that moment. Sure, I thought I was still asleep and dreaming when I did it, but I think we all know what an excuse that is. Awake or not, I wanted to kiss him. I refuse to admit to myself that it was all pretend.

  “Are you going to try and see him?” Lance says.

  No. That’s what should spill out of my mouth without hesitation. Instead, I remain quiet. Every day I sit and watch him it gets harder not to imagine seeing him again.

  Lance starts to say something, but his voice cuts off when we both spot a car rolling up to the compound. I grab for my binoculars and smash them against my face eagerly. Colors are pretty nonexistent using these things, but I saw before I brought them up that the sedan was black. Now that I can see more clearly, it’s obvious the body style of the car is identical to the one I saw at Braden’s. That, in itself, doesn’t mean much since it’s the same kind of car every prick who thinks he needs to be chauffeured around town uses, but it makes me hopeful.

  My hope is rewarded.

  “That’s him,” I hiss at Lance when he finally steps out of the car. I tap my Perception and watch the thick shadow of Vision tapping waver about his body. His light colored, oiled hair stands out in the field of night-vision shades of green. His fluid movements boast of pretty hefty Speed and Strength talents as well. Great. Even from here I think I can feel his evilness. It’s oozing up the hill to contaminate us. I watch him closely, flinching when his dead expression flits up at the hill we’re sitting on. We’re too far away for him to actually see us, though, and his gaze turns back to the compound.

  “It’s eleven o’clock at night,” Lance whispers. “What is this guy doing here? What couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

  “I don’t know. Why isn’t he going inside?” I watch him as he stares out into the high desert, waiting. What could he be waiting for out there? Somehow I doubt he’s a big owl enthusiast.

  Eleven motionless minutes pass with Drake simply standing by his car and staring out at the sagebrush and tumbleweeds. Lance and I both tense when his right hand darts up to his ear where an ear piece must be hidden. He mouths something I can’t decipher and moves a few steps away from the car. Seconds later, the sound of someone struggling through the scrub brush tumbles toward us. I blink in surprise when a pair of gigantic thugs burst into the open, lugging a thrashing Guardian behind them. They yank him up to a standing position before Drake.

  The captive’s head lolls to the side. I gasp and grab Lance’s arm. Despite the dirt and fresh bruises he’s sporting, I recognize him. “Lance, that’s the guy I stabbed down in the containment cells when we were rescuing Hope. What was he doing out in the desert?”

  “It looks like he was running away,” Lance says.

  Drake walks over to the young Guardian, places his hands on either side of his face, and whips it to the side. I swear I can hear the snap of his vertebrae even from here. The Guardian’s body slumps in the thugs’ hands, but they hold onto him impassively. Drake’s own expression never changes once. Cold, malicious energy builds around him as he dusts his hands on his jacket and turns away. Not a single word is spoken. He climbs back into his car and is driven away as the thugs haul the poor Guardian back inside to be disposed of.

  I can’t believe the absolute inhumanity of what I just witnessed. I feel cold as we scramble to our own car so we can follow him. My hands are shaking wildly as I snap my seatbelt into place. That man just murdered one of his own, one of his brothers. He didn’t even bat an eye as he ended that poor guy’s life. If I didn’t already, I’m beginning to understand why Blackwood and Braden are so terrified of him. Who is this Drake person, and what on earth is he planning to do to me?

  Chapter 14

  No Second Chances

  I should have been so exhausted by the time I finally got home last night that sleep shouldn’t have been a problem. I’ve never been a very good sleeper, but last night was even worse than usual. I kept seeing Drake snap that guy’s neck over and over again, and then coming after Braden to do the same. He didn’t stop Blackwood from hurting Braden because of any moral objections, just the number of spectators. Somewhere in the back of my mind there was worry for my own life, and everyone else’s as well, but in my nightmares all I could see was Drake’s slender fingers closing around Braden’s throat.

  Trying to shake off the nightmares is impossible. I have never wanted to ditch school so badly in my life. Unfortunately, that’s not an option today. Or any other day. Why did I get myself un-expelled again? I sit at my empty kitchen table sipping at a glass of orange juice with my eyes closed. If I open them, my head will start pounding. First day back to school and I look so awful everyone is going to have a whole new reason to want to stay away from me. What I wouldn’t give for one night with Braden. My cheeks color at the thought. Guilt is quick on the heels of my blush. For the sleep, I tell myself sternly. The only time I’ve ever gotten a decent amount of sleep is when I fell asleep on Braden’s lap. He probably would have made me breakfast this morning, I think, instantly regretting the thought. I have got to get control of my head today!

  Thinking of that unexplained peace I felt waking next to Braden brings a swell of sadness to my heart. I think I have stolen that as well. I didn’t feel anything of the link of being Spiritual Companions the two brief times I’ve seen him since I took his talents. The thick band of beaded bracelets carefully concealing my left wrist shifts as I lift my glass, worsening my depression. I’ve never flaunted my diktats, but I haven’t had to hide them in a while, either. I can’t let anyone see the new second row, or literally the entire world will be calling for my death. No one in their right mind will stand for me stealing other people’s talents. My head slips down to the table and stays there until Lan
ce knocks on my front door.

  Prepared for my less than stellar mood by the connection he shares with me, he completely ignores my sourness and thrusts a tiny wrapped box into my hand. His grin doesn’t cheer me up. It actually kind of makes me want to smack him. But I don’t.

  “Lance, you really didn’t need to get me anything,” I say.

  “Whatever. Just open it.”

  I sigh and start tearing the paper away. The sight of the dark blue jeweler’s box makes me glare at him. He laughs and gestures for me to open it. I lift the lid and stare at its contents in confused amazement. The silver chain holds a single pendant, a beautiful double layered engraving on a circular background, but I have no idea what I’m looking at.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  Lance lifts the necklace out of the box and holds it up to the light. “It’s a replacement for the one I gave you last year.”

  My birthday last year, that was the day this whole catastrophe I call my life really imploded in on itself. Lance had given me a necklace with the sign for Naturalism on it since I had been pretending that was my only talent at the time. A momentary pinch of guilt sticks me as I remember tearing the necklace off after my Inquest and throwing it away. At the time, it was totally called for. If this is a replacement for that, then …

  “Is this the symbol for the Destroyer? I didn’t even know there was one.” Classes have symbols just like talents do, but I guess I never thought about anyone bothering to create one for the person they thought was going to end all life.

  “It took a while to find the symbol, and even longer to find someone willing to make it for me, but it all worked out in the end,” Lance says. He holds the necklace up and points at the different markings as he explains. “The symbol has two layers. The symbol underneath, the spiral, represents renewal. This circle with the spears coming out of it represents death and destruction. There are two layers, because these two ideals have to work together in opposition or everything falls apart. If there’s only renewal and growth, the world would get out of hand. Destruction breaks down the old and corrupted to make room for the new, pure parts of life. They have to be balanced. It’s both sides of what you’re supposed to do. It’s called the Paradigm, the ideal world.”