The Light of the World (The Light Series Book 1)

by Tara Brown

  His dark eyes flicker to Mona constantly.

  He shakes his head. “I'm sorry. It's just remarkable how much you look like the girl from that show.”

  I snort. “You watch Gossip Girl?”

  He shrugs. “I like TV. That show in particular offers some very tantalizing young flesh.”

  Mona leans into me. “Gross.”

  My stomach turns.

  He laughs. “I mean you no harm. I wish for you to succeed this time, sin eater.” His dark eyes glimmer.

  I back away from the pull. “Rayne.”

  His face breaks into a smile. “Willow has spoken of you.”

  I scowl. “You know my mo—Willow?”

  He smiles. “Of course. I know all there is to know. I am Constantine Basarab, Fourth Count of the House of Basarab.”

  He is charming, and when he says his name, he has an accent. It's thick and sexy, and Mona leans forward slightly.

  “What are you, Constantine?”

  He flashes a smile like I have never seen. Two large fangs hang, where his canines should be.

  I scream. Mona screams.

  He laughs and the car comes to a stop.

  Mona is gripping me.

  He closes his mouth and muffles the rich chuckles he lets burst from him.

  A small man opens the door. He moves quickly. Every movement comes across as a twitch or jerk. But it's because he moves so quickly.

  Constantine points to the door. “Ladies first.” We grip each other and scramble from the car.

  He climbs out and stretches his long legs. He seems bigger, taller. Or I'm just so terrified, I have made him larger in my mind's eye.

  He takes my hand in his and kisses the top. “It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance, Madam Sin Eater.” His eyes sparkle. He takes Mona's hand and kisses it. “Madam.”

  We are charmed. We can't fight the charms he has. Mona is worse than I am. His touch has calmed us both. She takes a step toward him. “It's my pleasure to meet you. Not yours.”

  I've never seen her be forward before. I pull her back and scowl. “Stop what you're doing.” I sigh and roll my eyes. “Can we just go inside, before Wyatt shows up and everything goes downhill, like it tends to do when he's around?”

  He watches her for a moment and then breaks his stare. He glances at the driver. “Put the car away, Tom. We won't be needing it.”

  The driver moves quickly.

  Mona doesn’t notice the driver. She is blushing and tempting Constantine. He is fighting the urge to eat her. I know that feeling.

  “Can you go out in the daytime?” I ask.

  He looks at me and smirks. “Of course. Thinking about fleeing already? Am I such a poor host that I'm already driving you to that?”

  I shake my head. “No, just curious. You know, like Buffy the Vampire Slayer?”

  He rolls his eyes. “I will say, that show was better than some.” He holds a hand out. Instantly, both of us are even more mesmerized. His house is like a villa on the sea, but shaped like a German castle. It has peaked roofs and a smooth finish, like stone.

  My mouth hangs open. “This is where you live?”

  He smiles and nods, and seems humble suddenly. “It's just a house, Rayne.”

  Mona walks forward like she is in a dream. “It’s beautiful. So beautiful. Like a magical castle.”

  We are at a circular driveway in front of a huge front entryway. His house makes Wyatt's seem plain and tiny. The huge square pillars out front are two feet in diameter. Windows are lit, giving it a warm look. The house is amazing. Amazing.

  The doors are the size of a wall in a regular house. A thin woman in a maid's uniform opens the door and greets us with a smile. “Good evening.” Her face drops when she sees me. She looks shocked and confused. I know I look terrible. He's dressed so refined, and I look homeless.

  We walk in and get lost immediately. The foyer is marble with statues and a staircase that belongs in a Southern plantation. Plants, a fountain, ceilings high enough to be four stories, and a pianoforte all fill the room.

  “What does the rest look like if this is just the front door?” Mona spins. “Who has a piano in their foyer? That’s weird.”

  He seems annoyed. “You Americans. All so impressed by grandeur and size. It's just a house. And I like to hear the piano all over the house. This is the best spot, acoustically.”

  Mona blushes again, but I can't help but look around more.

  “Would you like something to eat?” he asks politely.

  I shake my head but avert my eyes. “No thanks, we just had those subs.”

  “That's not what I was offering, sin eater,” he says with a smile.

  My head jerks. “What?”

  He smiles and holds a hand out. “I keep a selection of things you might be interested in down in the basement.”

  I am sick and yet intrigued. “You keep people hostage?”

  He nods. “Come, I'll show you.”

  Mona takes his hand. She is entranced again. I am frozen in my spot. I want to eat one of the hostages. I can't deny it, but at the same time, I want to be disgusted. It's gross that they are held downstairs as cattle for the master.

  I follow them and tell myself it's to keep Mona safe. Not to eat a hostage.

  The hallway we are in turns a corner and suddenly an industrial theme becomes noticeable. We enter a doorway and descend down a wide set of stairs. The floor is rubber and the walls are steel.

  It doesn’t feel luxurious like upstairs.

  Mona walks, watching his eyes the entire time. He has her spellbound.

  “You can't hurt her,” I whisper it, certain he can hear me.

  He looks back. “I swear on my own grave, I would never. I couldn’t imagine her skin marred. She is pure.”

  I point at him. “You have to take the spell off.”

  He shakes his head. “I can't. I'm not putting one on her. It's her response to me. She has to be the one to change it.”

  He opens a wide metal door. When we enter, he closes it and locks it with a key.

  It looks like a horse barn. Stalls with bars line the huge hallway.

  I shudder. “It looks like a prison.”

  He pauses and tilts his head, looking around. “It's meant to.”

  His eyes are dark and dangerous, unpredictable. His face is handsome and calm. He towers over Mona and me. He puts a large hand up to the first room and holds the bars. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.” He almost sings the words.

  I peer into the dark. I can't see anything until my eyes do their thing. Then I see her, it, maybe her. She is my size but a bit thinner. She has a white nightgown on. Her long blonde hair is stringy, and she is filthy. She stands in the corner of her cell, watching the moon from a small barred window.

  I take a step closer to the bars. As my face almost makes contact, she turns and screams. I jump back.

  Constantine laughs.

  She is at the bars raging and screaming.

  Mona clutches him, like she did me before.

  “Easy girl. Easy.” She reaches a white scrawny hand through the bars at him. He touches her and the trembling stops.

  She closes her dark eyes as tears stream down her filthy cheeks.

  “She drowned her children, on purpose of course. She didn’t want anyone to know, so she lied to everyone and said she had moved them to a small farmhouse outside of the city. She collected the child welfare for them, but they were dead. No one knew.” He strokes the palm of her hand, tickling it. His voice becomes a soft whisper, “No one but me.”

  My skin crawls. “How-how do you know?”

  Her eyes dart at me. Her edgy behavior is back when she hears my voice. I watch the homicidal look in her eyes and decide she is an it, not a she.

  “I can read things about people, Rayne. That’s how I found you.” I know him, and it's driving me insane.

  I look back at the woman. Her evil is great. I can sense it, like Willow told me I would be able to.
>
  He moves away from the bars and walks to the next stall. “This was once a teacher. He likes young people, more than most teachers. A girl tried to tell her parents what he had done to her. They never believed her. She had been promiscuous before. He knew that. He has a gift for picking them. The ones no one will believe.”

  The thing in the stall grunts. He looks at me with hatred and a hollowness I would expect to see on death row.

  “He is new. He is not trained and broken properly yet.” I look at the expression Constantine has and shiver. He is an evil man. I can sense his evil too. If I let myself, I can taste the blood the way he does. The life he steals will flow into my mouth and I know I’ll like it. “We are the same,” I mutter.

  He looks at me and frowns. “You are innocent. Never let them tell you different. None of this is your fault.” A sick and filthy grin crosses his delicious lips. “I, however, have enjoyed many aspects of my life.” His tongue flicks from his mouth and wets his lips.

  I am horrified at my attraction to him.

  Sexually, I am dysfunctional. I am only attracted to danger and pain. I should have stayed at the convent with Michelle.

  Mona's eyes are closed.

  He sees my expression and speaks softly, “I don’t want her to see them. I want her to remain unchanged and unspoiled. I have her believing she is in an armchair watching Casablanca. She deserves that. I just can't leave her alone in the house. She is pure.”

  He looks around as if the house is listening to us.

  He holds a hand out. “Every stall has someone in it that has committed horrific crimes and gotten away with them. Feel free to enjoy the company of one. Just pull the lever at the end of the hall for the one you want. Tom will watch for when you want out of here.”

  I nod and he leaves. I never realized he would leave me alone here with criminals. Nerves start to fill me as he closes the metal door and I am alone in the hallway.

  Every noise they make gets under my skin. My fingers tense. I look around. My heartbeat speeds up.

  I can hear them breathing. I can hear the sick thoughts they have. The teacher watches me from the bed in his cell. He watches me and thinks something I can't let my brain comprehend. My blood boils but something comes alive inside of me.

  My skin vibrates as I look at the metal door and the wall where the levers are. I walk to it, letting the boiling anger and disgust inside of me fill up. I pull the second lever. The stall door slides into the wall.

  The thing that used to be a man, before he let his darkness overtake him, steps from the cell. He is much larger than I thought. My nerves come back. They push away the bravery I have mustered.

  He smiles and tilts his head. “You're a very pretty girl. What's your name?”

  My mouth twitches. His thick fingers ball into fists and then straighten out again. I can hear the knuckles cracking.

  I shiver and watch his shadow on the floor. The air whispers and sparkles. The dead want me to run. They fear him. When the dead fear you, something is wrong inside of you.

  He looks at my chest and licks his lips. I try to focus on the feelings I have inside of me. The feelings of disgust. I can't make them bigger than the fear.

  He lunges suddenly and pins me against the metal wall. I start to cry. His warm skin is making heat everywhere. It's angry heat. He licks my neck and pins my arms against the wall. His legs hold mine. He has done this before. He anticipates my moves and counters before I even have a chance.

  A sob rises in my throat. I'm still panicking. He doesn’t kiss my mouth. He must know not to. His face buries itself in my neck. He spins me and throws me to the floor. He pounces. I try to scramble away but I can't. My head slams into the floor and he is on top of me.

  I see stars, but then I see something else. I see a color. It builds at the back of my eyes and becomes everything I see.

  I see red. Raw red anger and hatred.

  It's his, not mine.

  My eyes do their thing. I inhale him even from the floor. I can drink from him without seeing him. I can taste him in the air. I drink and feel his essence inside of me. I can taste his evil. It's sweet and delicious. He weakens for a moment. Apparently, it's all I need. I turn and wrestle him off of me. I pin him to the floor. I'm sitting on him and I lean forward until our faces almost touch and take the biggest breath I can. As I am doing it, I hear a click.

  I suck him until his fingers no longer bite into my skin.

  Then I look up to see the angry child killer looking at me with contempt and hatred. She wraps her dirty fingers around my throat. My mind is panicking but my body ignores it. It reacts on its own. I push her and pin her in the air. I suck from her until the next click.

  I am lost in a sea—no, a buffet of tastes and pleasure. The clicks are coming two at a time but I don’t fight them. I dance with them. I twirl and suck, choke and suck, and devour them one after the other. I choke one while eating another.

  Something is happening and my body is giving in to the moment. Every bad thought and dirty moment is filled with the sweetness they stole from someone else.

  My leg kicks at a tall man. I pin his face to the wall with my foot and drink from the man trying to grab at me and scratch me.

  I drink from the man I choked with my foot like a ninja. I pull away and feel like I could run straight up a skyscraper. I am invincible. I am on fire in a good way. My stomach rumbles low; it feels hot and naughty. I look around the room for my next bite, but there is no one. The floor is littered with bodies. Their faces are distended in awkward positions. Like they died crying out.

  They did.

  I look at the cells. Every stall door has been opened. There is no one left. I walk to the hall and let the food I've had be enough. When my finger grazes the cold metal of the door, I feel it. Reality slams into me.

  I look back, horrified at what I have done. Remorse, self-loathing, and regret battle around inside of me.

  My jaw trembles. I have murdered a dozen people like it was nothing. The moves of my death dance fill my mind. I sucked them and never thought another thought.

  I have never had such a conflict inside of me. Not even when loving Wyatt whilst hating him.

  He speaks, awestruck, “You are more impressive than I remember.”

  I look at Constantine who is beside me. The metal door is closed, and yet he is here like he never left.

  “Why did it taste so good now? When the devil used me to cleanse, it tasted so bad.” I speak but don’t recognize the voice.

  “He forced it on you. Plus, it's so much all at once. Nothing tastes good when it's shoved down your throat. Here you ate like you should. Naturally.” He sounds as if he's advocating a healthy lifestyle of sorts, not murder.

  I look back. “You opened all the doors.”

  He nods. “I needed to see if you were ready.”

  My hands react. I have no control over my body. I pin him against the wall and look up at him. “What did you do to me?”

  He smiles. “I freed you.”

  My fingers stop biting at the soft dress shirt. He wraps his arms around me and holds me to him. “We'll succeed this time, Rayne. I promise.”

  My eyes shut but fill with images.

  I'm standing on the cliffs. It's raining and dark, and the sea is everywhere. The salt clings to me. I'm wearing a long dress. I'm me. My dark hair clings to my face. I hold a sword and a dagger. A man comes at me and I fight. My body twitches as I watch the images. It wants to move along with what I see. Like how I twitch watching dancing, like I should be dancing too.

  I kill the man and he falls off the cliff. I'm standing on an outcropping of rocks, jagged rocks.

  Another man comes at me. I spin and butt the hilt of the sword in his face. His nose bleeds. We fight and I slice the dagger across his cheek. I grab his face and lick the blood from his cheek. I press my lips against his and suck him dry. He drops to the ground in a heap. I kick him off the cliffs and watch as Constantine walks along the rocks. He lau
ghs and grabs my face. He kisses me and I remember it all.

  I look up at him. He bends his face, pressing his lips into mine.

  “You came back to me,” he whispers.

  His lips are feverish. I let him devour me. I swear I can feel the rain upon us and the sword in my hand.

  He pulls away and cries out. He grips my forearms. “What have you done? Have you handfasted?”

  I tremble. “He tricked me. Wyatt tricked me.”

  He looks at the white ceiling and screams.

  Chapter Nineteen

  She moans in her sleep and it bothers me. Not because she is making noises, but because she is dreaming about him.

  If I could have normal dreams and normal sleeps, I would bet we would both be dreaming about him.

  Asshole.

  He pushed me hard enough to make me remember him. Unfortunately, my memories are not whole. I remember the feeling of a sword in my hand and the feeling of killing something without guilt. I knew what I was and had no issues with it. What I don’t remember is a much larger list than what I do. Constantine is the center of my confusion. I loved him. I know it. When I look at him, I feel it. But I also fear him and sense a betrayal.

  I can't sleep. It's never actually happened to me before. I don’t seem to be resting with the dead. I can't help but wonder if it's him or if I overate. They didn’t fill me up. It wasn’t the same as the devil who fed me. He made me feel full and sick. This is more like I am full of energy.

  I get up from the bed and leave the room. I wander down the wide hallway and glance at the paintings. I walk like my feet know the way. Suddenly the air is sparkling and the dead are calling me. They want me to lie with them, there in the hallway. Weirdos.

  My feet walk through the mazes of hallways and corridors until I come to a dark door. It's closed. I reach out and brush my fingers against it. I've seen it before. I act before I can think and stop myself. I reach for the handle and turn it slowly. I slip inside of the door and close it quickly.

  My back is pressed against the door. My heart is attempting to beat out of my chest. The door makes me nervous. The room makes it worse. So many things feel like they're trying to come back to me all at once.