Darkening Chaos: Book Three of The Destroyer Trilogy

by DelSheree Gladden

  I run my fingertip over the individual elements, amazed and even comforted by the interpretation. It’s incredible. I never would have expected something connected to me to contain such beauty and insight.

  “It’s a really old symbol,” Lance says, “designed centuries ago before all these lies about the Guardians and Ciphers really started getting out of control. I guess at some point people knew your real purpose, Libby. They understood who you were meant to be, and … and I don’t think they were afraid of you. I don’t think anyone would have made something so beautiful for the Destroyer if they really believed you were evil. I think they might have loved you for what you were going to do.”

  “Maybe,” I whisper, hope trickling into my heart. “Maybe they will again. Someday.”

  Lance smiles and asks, “Do you like it?”

  “Yeah, I do. Thanks. It’s really beautiful,” I say as I fasten it around my neck proudly.

  “Cool. Well, we better get going.” He starts toward the car, walking quickly. I move to follow him, but slow when I see Hope getting out of the front seat and jumping into the back. I glance over at Lance who shrugs with a dopey looking smile. “You don’t mind do you? Her dad had to go back home to get some stuff worked out so they can move down here permanently and her mom was worried about her going anywhere alone.”

  “It’s fine,” I say. I shake my head and laugh. Maybe today won’t be so bad after all.

  I climb into the car and am surprised when Hope offers me an almost pleasant sounding happy birthday. Before I can thank her, she shoves a notebook at me and says, “Here’s all the stuff I’ve decoded from my grandpa’s notes. Most of it is stuff you already know, but I did find a few interesting things.”

  “Oh,” I say, “thanks. I didn’t even know you were helping Casey with this.”

  “My grandpa taught me the key years ago. He thought I might need to know it one day, and I guess he was right,” she says, the words getting more and more bitter as she spits them out.

  Lance and I glance at each other, but don’t comment on her anger.

  “So, uh, what did you find that was interesting?” I ask. I’ve been getting bits and pieces of information from Casey over the last two weeks, but she was having a hard time getting through the notes. I flip through the notebook to find half of it filled. I can’t believe Hope was able to translate so much so quickly.

  “Mostly it’s just stuff he found while he was doing research about you, stories about the Guardians lying and hiding the truth about who you were and what you were meant to do. He found stories and writings talking about how you used to be hailed as a savior of sorts instead of this horrible thing everyone was terrified of,” Hope says. She goes on to tell me a few of them. They’re actually pretty interesting and she keeps both Lance and I entertained all the way to school. And through first hour, and in between classes, and up until our calculus teacher finally lets us out.

  In the hallway, she grabs me before I can take off for my next class. “Oh, and there’s this whole poem he found that talks about how the Destroyer would come when the world was so corrupt and evil that it was tearing itself apart. The Destroyer wasn’t going to kill everyone like we hear now, just the bad people. Then she would rebuild the world in a better way. It was actually a pretty neat story. It’s in the notebook if you want to read it.”

  “Definitely. I’d love to.”

  I’d be thrilled to see something written about me that wasn’t condemning and hateful. I’m not sure I even know how to react to something like that. I cannot image the whole world believing in me, waiting and hoping for me to come with anything other than terror. Low, simmering anger at the Guardians for twisting my destiny into something to be feared rumbles in the pit of my stomach. Without their lies, I never would have had to hide who I am. My dad wouldn’t be dead. Maybe my mom would maybe even like me. I wouldn’t have spent years fearing my own death. One year from now wouldn’t be a deadline, it would be a moment to look forward to and celebrate the full release of my talents. My heart groans, the grief of everything I’ve lost becoming too heavy for a moment. They stole so much from me.

  “Another thing I found in his notes was kind of weird. I don’t really know what it means, but it was this word that popped up several times. I think it was a name, or title. My grandpa said he only found the mention of it in a few really old writings, but he thought it was important,” Hope says, not paying any attention to the staring and cringing and insults from a few of the other students as they walk past us in the hallway. I wish I was that good at being single-minded. I try not to glare back at them and pay attention to what Hope is still saying. Yikes, she’s talkative when she gets going. Lance doesn’t seem to mind. His eyes are neatly fastened to her.

  “It sounded like this person was meant to help you destroy the evil in the world,” Hope says. “Like I said, only a few really old writings mentioned it, but it sounded like without this person you wouldn’t be able to do what you needed to do and you would fail. Not very encouraging, I guess, but it was only mentioned rarely.”

  “What was the word?” I ask.

  “Socius.”

  “What does that mean?” Lance asks.

  “Well, I couldn’t figure out what it meant for forever. I found it in his notes last week, but I had no idea how to interpret it. I thought my grandpa would explain it somewhere in his notes, but he never did. I guess he already knew what it meant so he didn’t bother writing it down for us,” Hope says. “Anyway, it wasn’t until I showed it to Casey that we figured it out. I guess she’s taking Latin, for some reason. She knew what it meant right away.”

  Not that I’m not glad Hope is talking to me like a regular person rather than yelling and threatening everyone around her—Lance must be a very good influence on her—but this explanation could have been a fraction as long as it’s been. The bell’s about to ring, and I really can’t afford to be late to any of my classes. “What did the word mean?” I ask a little impatiently.

  “Companion.”

  My eyes double in size and my lungs completely fail me. My fingers snap to Braden’s braided white strand hidden among my beaded bracelets. Lance’s knuckles have turned white on the strap of his backpack, as well. Neither of us looks at each other. We don’t need to. I have talked to him about how I feel nothing of the Companion connection between me and Braden anymore. I stole that part of him when I stole his talents. It’s gone, forever.

  “It could mean someone else,” Lance says quietly.

  “You know it doesn’t.”

  There is only one Spiritual Companion for each person. No do-overs, no sorry I accidentally broke mine, no second chances. My one perfect power compliment is ruined.

  Maybe whoever wrote that word had no idea what they were talking about. Maybe it’s a mistranslation. Who’s to say it isn’t just a made up tale to make it more interesting when they told it to their kids at night? History is plagued by myth and legend.

  I want to argue that this one word only found in the oldest stories of my destiny can’t possibly be right. I want to, but I know the older it is, the more likely the Guardians never tampered with it. They were always the people’s protectors and armies, but only a few hundred years ago did the Guardians become this all-encompassing source of law and right and wrong. They have contaminated my heritage over the centuries they’ve had control of the information. How many of their leaders would think to try and erase some obscure Latin story only a select few have ever seen?

  No matter how hard I try to tell myself this isn’t right, the deep sense of truth pouring into my soul won’t let me really believe it. Through the rest of my classes, it’s all I can think about. Abuses from students like Angus and his crew don’t faze me. Jen slinking around behind me in the hallways trying to catch me doing or saying something that will get me in trouble, or reveal something newsworthy only slightly irritates me.

  The only thing that does manage to slip into my thoughts, even if only vaguely, is
the way Milo is acting today. Outwardly, he is acting completely normal, sitting next to me in Perception, silently walking with me to my next class. He never once speaks to me, and I deicide it’s better not to push him. We go silently through our day together. There are so many other things on my mind at the moment. Hope’s words fill my mind completely, making me more frightened than I have been in a long time. And that’s saying something.

  I was trying to save Braden’s life. More than my own life, I wanted to protect his. I did it. I thought of the one way I could break his Oath and stop him from killing me. But I may have doomed the entire world at the same time. My fingers slide up to the Destroyer pendant around my neck and grip it tightly. I have to fix this. I have to find a way to make Braden my Companion again. If I want to save the world, I have to save him first.

  It’s impossible. That’s what everyone will say. I know they’re right. But I’ve done impossible things before.

  Chapter15

  In My Pocket

  As I stare out my car window at Braden’s townhome, all I can think about is my promise to Milo. It hurt when he walked away from me yesterday. His accusations battle against Lance’s assurances that leaving Braden to fend for himself would be callous. But it’s not even just about Braden’s safety anymore. It’s about the fate of the entire world. I tried to find Milo after school and tell him about the Socius, but our fight yesterday is still too fresh. I made it out to the parking lot only to see his break lights tearing away from school. Calling him got me nowhere.

  I asked Lance and Hope to keep it to themselves until I have the chance to talk to Milo about it. My plan had been to discuss it with him before I came to Braden’s, but I feel like I’m running out of time. If I don’t convince Braden to let me help him, now, Drake may come back first and finish what Blackwood started. I can’t risk that, even if it means inciting even more of Milo’s anger at me.

  I won’t let Braden die, but I have to figure out a way to give him back his talents if I have any hope of surviving. For that, I’m willing to break my promise to Milo. Before, I justified watching his house. I told myself I wasn’t really breaking my promise because I wasn’t talking to Braden, or even seeing him. I was quietly protecting him, that was all. As I push the door to my Bronco open, I know that this time I cannot tell myself I’m doing anything other than exactly what Milo asked me not to do.

  The guilt walking across the street inspires in me makes my hands shake, but I don’t turn back. The neighborhood is silent as I step onto the sidewalk in front of Braden’s townhome. Each step I take is a plea for me to reconsider. I am focused on my goals, but part of me is terrified that the moment I see Braden my resolve will crumble. When I reach the front door, my hand rises automatically, but I don’t knock. I think.

  If I knock on the door, I’m risking my relationship with Milo. Am I willing to do that? I know the Socius story is true. I have little evidence to substantiate that belief, but my instincts have convinced me without a doubt. If I don’t keep Braden from getting killed and figure out how to give him back his talents, I will fail. The Guardians’ plans will ruin the world. Whatever sick creations they are making out of Ciphers will destroy the world, no help from me needed. This is something else I am convinced of. Am I willing to risk Milo hating me forever to stop the Guardians? My heart aches, threatens to break completely, but I know the answer to this question. Yes.

  My knock seems to echo through the silence.

  It is answered with the same.

  I knock again with the same result, knocking harder after that. Part of me says I should walk away, but I have decided. I won’t leave now. I give up on knocking, but I’m not completely convinced he isn’t home. Given Blackwood and Drake showing up at his house the other day, I’d keep the alarm on twenty-four-seven and not answer the door, too. I walk around to the driveway and lift up on my toes to peek into his garage. Empty. He really is gone.

  I stand in the driveway staring at nothing for several long minutes, thinking. I’m sure Braden knows I’ve been watching his house. If he wanted to see me, he would have tried by now. Fear that he will see my Bronco and refuse to answer the door even when he does get home forces me to reconsider my plan. If I’m already inside when he gets back, it will be harder for him not to at least give me a chance to talk.

  I glance around the street looking for more of the curious neighbors that saved Braden’s life last time. I appreciated their attentiveness then, but they might cause me some serious legal troubles if they’re around right now. I carefully check the windows of each house and scan the barren sidewalks a few more times before turning away from the garage. The nice thing about Braden’s neighborhood is that it’s mainly families with older kids and parents who work. At four in the afternoon, it’s pretty dead.

  A few quick steps bring me back to my Bronco parked a little ways down from his house. Several minutes later, I find what I need and head back to the front door. I select the half-diamond pick from the set Braden gave me and get to work. It takes me longer than it would have taken him, but I’m still done in less than a minute. My lock picks go back into my pocket and I slip inside the house. Closing and relocking the door behind me, I hurry over to the alarm panel. I quickly enter the code Braden gave me and reset it. I stand in the entry, frozen by the fact that I just broke in to Braden’s house.

  The day we went to pick up Dean from Texas, Braden broke into Milo’s car to get my bag out of it. He’d already broken into my motel room a few months earlier. After he admitted to having a juvenile record for stealing cars and joyriding in them, I eventually asked him to teach me how to pick locks just in case I ever needed the skill. Knowing how often I end up in precarious situations, he agreed. I picked it up pretty fast, though he is much better than I am. He never did teach me how to break into a car, though. That hardly matters right now. What matters is that I am standing in Braden’s house. How he will react to that, I have no idea. How Milo will react, that I’m sure I can guess, but I step further into the house to wait.

  An hour later, I begin to worry, my already fried nerves making me jump at every sound. I try to distract myself by looking for something to calm my rumbling stomach. It doesn’t work because the idea of eating makes me nauseous, and because Braden has almost no food in his house. I abandon the idea. He’ll be home soon, I tell myself. He’s never not come back at night. I just have to wait him out, and then I’ll get my chance to convince him to listen to me. That scares me almost as much as the idea of seeing Braden again. I don’t know if I’ll be able to convince him to come back to our group after what I did to him.

  I might have worried about Blackwood or Drake having grabbed him if I weren’t getting text message updates on the Guardians’ activities every few hours. Blackwood is still at the compound, and even though no one has seen Drake today, I can’t imagine Blackwood wouldn’t be with him if he had Braden. What I really start to worry about is that Braden may have decided to go out of town. If I have to come back again tomorrow night, I will, but eventually the neighbors are going to notice me breaking into his house. I silently pray he’ll come back tonight as I sit down to wait. Right away, I know sitting is a mistake. I’m so tired after spending most of last night trying and failing to follow Drake. I can’t make my tired body get back up, so I turn on the TV to try and help me stay awake. The sounds of a pointless sitcom wash against me soothingly as the sun starts to drop behind the houses.

  ***

  The sound of a gun being cocked snaps me out of a fitful sleep. My eyes blink open to darkness and flashing lights. The TV is still on, screwing up my ability to focus my eyes. I can’t see anything, but I can hear breathing—nervous, twitchy breathing.

  Oh no. I don’t move, or breathe, or say a word. I can’t believe I fell asleep and the sound of the garage door motor didn’t wake me up. Braden is going to shoot me if I make a sound. This was a really bad idea.

  Think, think! There has to be a way to let him know it’s me without freaking
him out and making him shoot me. Suddenly, the TV winks out. My heart rate skyrockets. It’s a tactical move to put Braden in control. Not only is he more familiar with the layout of this room, he knows where he’s at right now, and a general idea of where I’m at, but if I were to get up and try to run I would likely stumble over something, giving him the chance to attack me. Plus, I really can’t see anything now. My eyes are still trying to adjust, while he probably closed his own eyes before the TV turned off to let them acclimate faster. I have to do something quick, or this is going to end very badly for me.

  The muzzle of a gun presses against my temple and I realize it’s too late.

  My mouth opens to stop him from shooting me when he moves and trips over something. I see this as my chance. “Braden, please don’t shoot,” I beg, hoping his distraction from tripping will keep him from reacting on impulse.

  “Libby?” Braden gasps.

  The lights flip on, and I jump up from the couch and hold my hands out to keep him from doing something stupid. He just stares at me with his gun still pointed at my chest. “It’s me, Braden. I didn’t mean to scare you like that. I’m sorry.”

  His eyes drop to his gun. He looks surprised to find himself pointing it at me and lowers it. When he looks back up at me, he is just as angry as I feared he would be.

  “What the hell are you doing in my house?” he shouts. “I thought someone had broken in. I was about to shoot you! What were you thinking?”

  “I’m sorry, Braden. I was waiting for you to get home. I thought you’d be back hours ago. I guess I fell asleep waiting. I would have turned on some lights, or met you outside or something if I hadn’t fallen asleep. I’m really sorry,” I say in a single breath.