The Assassins of Light

by Britney Jackson

  She turned, glancing curiously at him, as he writhed on the floor. “You know what? You don’t deserve to die in the same way that her brother did.”

  Frederick inhaled deeply, visibly relaxing, as she stopped killing him.

  The shadows within her eyes began to dance faster. “You deserve worse.”

  The human began to scream—piercing, eardrum-shattering screams that echoed through the building, louder, even, than the wailing whirlwind outside.

  The monster watched him with those black, abysmal eyes of hers—cold and unfeeling—even as blood poured from his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth, even as he died. “That was not only a more painful way to die,” she told his dead body. “It was also faster.” She glanced up at the rattling ceiling. “Which is a good thing, since Rose is apparently trying to bring down New York City with tornadoes.”

  —

  Kara and Kallias walked the halls at a sickeningly slow pace. They might have walked faster, if they didn’t have to step over corpses every few steps.

  “I don’t understand,” Kallias said breathlessly, his light brown eyes wide, as he saw the carnage that Rose had left in her wake. “How could she do this?”

  “They killed her brother,” Kara said. “It’s not like they didn’t deserve it.”

  Kallias shook his head. “The Rose I know would have never done this.”

  “But she’s not the Rose you know,” Kara said, glancing at him. “Not right now.” She looked away. “I can feel her emotions, and believe me. This isn’t Rose.”

  “What do you mean?” Kallias said. “How could it be anyone but Rose?”

  “I don’t know,” Kara admitted. She reached out, suddenly, and grasped Kallias’s arm to stop him, her eyes widening as she felt that ripple of awareness tingling under her skin. Kallias rounded on her, clearly about to snap at her, but before he could open his mouth, she said, “She’s coming. She knows we’re here.”

  Kallias raised an eyebrow, not sure whether to believe her or not, but then, he heard the squeaking of Rose’s tennis shoes, and he heard her heartbeat, slow and steady, from deeper within the base. “She doesn’t seem to be upset.”

  “She is,” Kara said quietly, “but some of her emotions are…misplaced.”

  He scowled at her. “Misplaced? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “I don’t know,” Kara said, shrugging. “I’m just telling you how it feels.”

  Kallias fidgeted impatiently, sweeping his gaze around the hall, noticing all of the dead, blood-soaked Assassins of Light in the floor. “None of these people were here when you were here earlier?” he asked, his brows furrowing.

  Kara shook her head. “This must’ve been their plan all along,” she said quietly, “to kill Zach and come back for Rose. I can’t believe I didn’t think of it.”

  “Now, don’t go blaming yourself,” came a voice that was, at once, both familiar and unfamiliar, similar to Rose’s voice and yet drastically different. She emerged from the shadows of the hall, and yet, she didn’t…because the shadows followed her, dancing around her body as she moved, almost as if the shadows were…worshiping her. Or emanating from within her. Or both. She rolled her black, shadow-filled eyes. “Rose already has the blaming herself thing covered.”

  Kallias narrowed his eyes at her. “You are Rose. Or, well, you better be.”

  “Or…what?” Rose laughed. She tilted her head to the side, her long red hair falling forward, over her blood-soaked clothing. “What are you going to do? Attack your girlfriend in hopes of killing whatever’s inside of her? It doesn’t work that way.” Her smile deepened. “Oh, wait. Sorry. It’s ex-girlfriend now, isn’t it?”

  He stepped toward her, his brown eyes flashing with rage. “Who the…”

  Kara held out her hand, suddenly, motioning for him to stop. “Please,” she told him softly, as she stared curiously at Rose. To her surprise, Kallias did as she asked and took a step back, waiting for her to move first. Kara tilted her head to the side, her dark, wet hair falling over her jacket, her light blue eyes widening.

  “You recognize me, don’t you?” Rose asked, taking a step toward her. The shadows moved with her, dancing over the floor and across the walls. She closed the space between them, but Kara didn’t move. She simply straightened as Rose came closer. “Kallias doesn’t recognize me because he liked to pretend that I didn’t exist, but you,” she paused and lifted her hand, trailing her fingers over Kara’s face. Kara closed her eyes instantly, exhaling shakily, as she felt the cold darkness that radiated from Rose’s fingertips. “You and I are well-acquainted.”

  Kara opened her eyes, confused by Rose’s words, confused by what she felt inside of Rose—the emotional turmoil that she was sure belonged to Rose and then…this. Whatever this was. “I just want to see Rose,” she whispered.

  The shadows moved around them, whirling in a slow, passionate dance.

  “What?” Kallias objected. “No, we do not want to just see her. We want you,” he paused, pointing at Rose, “whoever you are, to get out of Rose’s…body.”

  Rose stepped away from Kara, her cold hands dropping to her sides. She let out a short, amused laugh. “Get out of Rose’s body. What an odd statement.”

  Kallias glared at the black-eyed vampire. “Well, are you Rose? Or not?”

  “Believe me. You’re not ready for that answer,” Rose muttered. She tilted her head back, staring at the ceiling, as the winds raged louder and louder outside.

  His eyes narrowed. “Rose would’ve never murdered all of these people.”

  “No,” Rose agreed, her black eyes shifting toward him, “which is why I did it for her. I didn’t kill them without reason. I did it for Rose. And for Zach.”

  Kara stepped forward, her brows creased with worry. “We understand.”

  Kallias turned toward her, his eyebrows lifting in disbelief. “We do?”

  “But it’s done now,” Kara told Rose, “so, can we have Rose back now?”

  Rose frowned. “I am not holding her captive,” she said in a puzzled tone. “She receded within. So, I emerged. I made them suffer because she is suffering.”

  Kara continued to move closer to her, undeterred by the volatile power that radiated from her body. “But you’re finished now, right? You wiped out an entire base of Assassins of Light. I don’t think there’s any more for you to do.”

  “I took their lives because they took something from her,” Rose stated.

  Kara lifted her hands and cupped Rose’s face in her hands, meeting her terrifying, black gaze. “Please,” she whispered to her, “I just want to see my love.”

  To their surprise, the black-eyed vampire seemed to respond to Kara’s touch, almost in the same way that Rose would—tilting her face closer, her breath mingling with Kara’s. “Rose blames herself,” she told Kara. “She is suffering.”

  “I know,” Kara said, her eyes glistening with tears. “I knew she would.”

  “She wants to die,” Rose explained. “I cannot allow that to happen.”

  “It won’t. I won’t let it happen,” Kara promised. “I love her with all of my heart.” She swept out her hand, gesturing toward Kallias. “Both of us do.”

  Rose smiled. “I know,” she said softly. “That’s the only reason you’re alive in my presence.” The blackness of her eyes seemed to darken even more, all of the sudden. Like a black hole, sucking the light from the building—or from what remained of the building. “But I don’t know if she’s ready to come back.”

  “Ready?” Kallias repeated. “It’s her body! She doesn’t need to be ready!”

  Her shadow-filled eyes shifted toward Kallias, and a sudden gust of wind swirled around her, so powerful that it nearly knocked them off of their feet. “Be careful how you speak to me,” she growled. Her words seemed to seep into the ground, moving the earth itself. “Especially when Rose isn’t here to protect you.”

  “Protect me?” Kallias scoffed. “I’m twenty-five hundred years old.”
/>
  Kara stepped between them. “Okay,” she said softly, spreading out her hands. “Okay. We’re sorry. Just…please. Let us see Rose. That’s all that matters.”

  Rose sighed, “Your voice calls her back. But she is deeply wounded.”

  Kara nodded. “I know, but we’ll help her,” she told the powerful being in front of her. “I’ve felt responsible for someone’s death before. I have wanted to die because of it. I think I can help her navigate her way through this pain. And I’m sure that Kallias feels the same way. His anger is simply…concern for her.”

  Kallias watched as Kara spoke to this…whatever-it-was, stunned by how calm Kara seemed. He could hear her racing pulse, and he could hear her terrified thoughts. So, he knew that she was as worried as he was, but somehow, she kept that all under control. She chose her words carefully, saying only what needed to be said in order to bring Rose back. That was her only concern: seeing Rose again.

  “If she is unable to handle the pain,” the monster warned, “I will return.”

  Kara let out a shaky, relieved sigh. “Rose,” she breathed, stepping closer.

  The black shadows fled from Rose’s eyes, dissipated by the fiery, red light that took their place. But then, the glowing, crimson-red haze faded as well, which just left those glistening, tear-filled, bright blue eyes that Kara had longed to see.

  “Oh, Rose,” Kara said, closing the space between them, “you’re back.”

  As tears began to spill from Rose’s bright blue eyes, her knees buckled, and she began to fall. But, fortunately, Kara caught her. She crumbled into Kara’s arms, weeping with a brokenness that shattered Kara’s heart into a million pieces.

  Even though Kallias couldn’t feel her emotions anymore, in the way that Kara could, he still felt heartbroken at the sight of Rose weeping like that. He’d never seen her in that much pain. He met Kara’s gaze. “We should get her home.”

  Kara nodded, clutching Rose as tightly as she could. “Yes. Let’s do that.”

  —

  “I can get Erik to come in here,” Kara offered, her voice soft and lilting, “if you want.” She turned toward Rose and closed the bedroom door behind her.

  Rose lay, curled up, on the bed. Her long hair, drenched from the rain, lay over her face, and her soaked clothes clung uncomfortably to her curvy figure.

  Kara crossed the bedroom floor, water trailing down her skin in slow rivulets. She knelt in front of the bed, her hands on her leather-clad thighs, her dark, drenched hair falling forward, over her shoulders. “Do you want me to?”

  “Only if you need him,” Rose managed to say, her voice hollow and tired. The depression bled into every word, every syllable, every breath. “I don’t want you to feel this, but…I don’t want him to take it from me. I deserve to feel this.”

  “No, Rose,” Kara said, her brows creasing with empathy, “you don’t.”

  “It’s my fault,” Rose said, but the words came out softer than a whisper.

  “Oh, Rose,” Kara sighed. She reached up and ran her fingers over Rose’s face, pushing a lock of wet hair out of Rose’s eyes. “Don’t do this to yourself.”

  Tears leaked from the corners of Rose’s bright blue eyes, streaming down her cheeks in uneven lines. “They killed him because of me,” she whispered.

  “What did you tell me when I was blaming myself for Olivia’s death?” Kara asked gently. “When I blamed myself for everyone that Alana killed because of me, when I blamed myself for Hadleigh’s death—each time, you told me that I couldn’t do this to myself. You told me that it wasn’t my fault. You told me that I was good.” She wiped a tear from Rose’s cheek. “Why can’t you show yourself the same kindness you showed me? You deserve that kindness, more than anyone.”

  “No. I don’t,” Rose breathed. Her mind felt so slow, so exhausted, so overwhelmed by pain, sadness, and regret—regret that she hadn’t watched Zach more closely, regret that she hadn’t thought about the pizza sooner, regret that she was even alive to cause this. She choked back a pain-filled sob. “I don’t want you to feel this pain. You should go to Erik and ask him to control your emotions.”

  “Rose, I love you,” Kara sighed. “If you’re hurting, I’ll hurt with you.”

  Rose stared at her, stunned that Kara cared enough to do that, to feel the pain that she felt now, to grieve with her. “I’ll probably cry all night and day,” she mumbled. Two more tears streaked down her face. “I won’t be good company.”

  “I’m not asking you to be anything you don’t feel,” Kara assured her, running her thumb over the softness of Rose’s cheek. “Cry as much as you need to cry, and…I’d like to hold you,” she offered, tilting her head, “if you’ll let me.”

  Rose smiled, and the tears fell faster over her face. “I’ll always let you.”

  Kara’s soft, pale lips curved into a warm, affectionate smile, and then, she straightened and kicked off her boots. “Do you want to change clothes?”

  “I don’t think I can yet,” Rose said honestly. “My body feels so weak.”

  “Overuse?” Kara asked, concern burning in her light blue eyes. “Alana experienced it sometimes. It could get quite terrible. She lost consciousness once, when she was first learning her limits. She didn’t wake until I gave her my blood.”

  “I don’t know if I’m that far gone yet,” Rose mumbled tiredly, more tears pouring down her face. “I just don’t think I’m ready to change my clothes yet.”

  Kara nodded and climbed onto the bed, still wearing her own wet clothes as well. She curled up behind Rose, wrapping her arms around Rose’s stomach and holding her close, her front pressed against Rose’s back, her face in Rose’s soft, honey-scented hair. “I’m here,” she murmured in Rose’s ear, her voice lower and more soothing than usual, “and I’ll be here as long as you want me here.”

  22

  No Time for Grief

  Isaac Attwood woke up, suddenly, startled by the sound of his door clicking shut. He sat up, squinting tiredly at the door, disoriented because of the sun. But when he saw the dark silhouette in front of his door, its blurry curves and angles smoothing into recognizable shapes, adrenaline coursed through him.

  “What the fuck?” he snarled, scrambling backward in his bed.

  Kara tossed her throwing knife into the air and caught it, but she never took her eyes off of Isaac. “Hello, Isaac,” she said slowly. “Did you sleep well?”

  Isaac stared blankly at her, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Sure. Until you broke into my room,” he growled. His gaze darted toward the door, but he knew he’d never make it with her in the way. “Aaron told you to stop threatening me.”

  “Threatening?” she said. “I’m not threatening anyone. I’m just thinking.”

  “You’re thinking,” he repeated. “In my room? In the middle of the day?”

  Her lips curved slowly. “Isn’t that what it looks like?” she asked. Then, before he could respond, she flung the knife at him. He jumped, his heart racing, panic shooting through his veins, as the knife missed his face by less than an inch, landing, instead, in the headboard of the bed. Kara’s smile widened. “You see,” she said, pointing at the knife beside his head, “that is what a threat looks like.”

  “What the hell,” he breathed, his voice shaking, “is your problem?”

  “Careful,” Kara said as he started to move. She held up her hand and produced three more small knives—seemingly out of nowhere—holding them between her fingers, like a deck of cards. “I have more, and I can put them exactly where I want them.” She smirked. “So, I’d suggest you stay right where you are.”

  Isaac’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t dare move. “What is this about?”

  Kara twirled the knives between her fingers effortlessly, watching them, rather than Isaac, as if she didn’t consider him a threat at all. “Rose’s brother died. I’m sure you heard. The Assassins of Light murdered him. Do you know how?”

  “How would I?” he said, his eyes narrowing. “I was
gone. With you.”

  “The pizza that the humans were eating,” Kara told him. “The Assassins of Light had someone pose as a pizza delivery person and deliver poisoned food.”

  “Tragic,” Isaac said coldly, “but I don’t see what this has to do with me.”

  “I’m getting there,” she said, surprisingly calm. She twirled the daggers a little faster, raising an eyebrow as she heard the spike in his pulse. “You see, a few nights ago, you attacked a pizza delivery person, didn’t you? Kallias had to drive him to the hospital because he’d lost so much blood. So, the next night, when a new pizza delivery person started showing up, we didn’t think anything about it,” she paused, her piercing, blue gaze shifting toward him. “Because, of course, they sent someone new. They couldn’t very well send the guy that was in the hospital.”

  “You can’t be serious,” he said. “You can’t really think I was involved.”

  Kara stopped twirling the daggers, her eyes narrowing. “That’s the thing, though. It sounds too far-fetched for anyone to actually believe it, and a good manipulator would know that,” she said lowly. “A good manipulator, like me.”

  He smiled bitterly at her. “Then, maybe you were the one who did it.”

  “Or…maybe you never broke free of the Assassins of Light,” Kara said, taking a step toward him. “Maybe you’re still one of them. Maybe you’re the spy.”

  “The thing about liars is,” he said, “they think everyone else is one, too.”

  Kara took another step toward him, the hardwood floor creaking quietly beneath her bare feet. “And usually,” she said, closing in on him, “we’re right.”

  Isaac jumped out of his bed and tried to race toward the door, but Kara caught him and threw him on the floor. He landed face-first, and she jumped on top of him, placing her knee on his back to hold him still. She grabbed his shaggy, brownish-blonde hair and pulled his head back, exposing his throat. She pressed one of her daggers against his throat, and he instantly stopped fighting, terrified.