Darkness Savage (The Dark Cycle Book 3)

by Rachel A. Marks

  “Oh my God, he was crazy? A crazy homeless man did this to you?”

  I release a surprised laugh and shake my head. I forgot how Samantha’s brain always fills in a story. “No, Sam. He was one of the boys from the LA Paranormal house. He tried to kill me.”

  “Holy shitstickles!” She gasps in shock, and then she turns frantic. “You can’t ever go back there, we need to call the police, what’s his name, oh my God, he tried to kill you, thank God you’re okay, you could’ve—wait how are you okay? And why in the name of Jimmy Choo did you go back there last week?!”

  “Aidan saved me—the dark-haired guy who brought me home from the club that night, the one you invited to Apple’s party. He stopped it. And the possessed boy isn’t . . . well, he isn’t around anymore.”

  “Oh. Well, still, you need to never go there again.” She shakes her head, stunned.

  We turn down a street that looks like the one that Kara took to bring us to Miss Mae. I really hope I’m remembering this right. Samantha pushes the button to lock the doors with a click. We pull up along the curb, and she gapes out the window at the buildings.

  Her breathing speeds up. “So, now that I know you hang out with killers, I’m really not feeling this.” She twists the hem of her short black skirt in her fingers.

  “Sorry. You’re stuck now. I only have two hours before I need to get the car back, so I can’t take you home, come back here, and still get it returned in time.”

  “It’s dark, Em. It’s dark and creepy.”

  “It’s fine. I’ve been here before. This lady I’m coming to see is really nice. You’ll love her.” I’m not sure about that, but I need to get Samantha out of the car somehow. “Come on.”

  She grabs her Marc Jacobs bag with a white-knuckled grip and slides out, staying kind of hunched over, like she’s trying to hide. Or trying to keep her skirt from looking too short. Who knows?

  I come up beside her on the cracked and weedy sidewalk and take her hand as I lead her down the center walkway through the buildings. “We love adventures, Sam. Remember when your parents first got divorced and we’d camp out in your dad’s backyard in Simi Valley?” I ask. “He had all those huge eucalyptus trees, and we pretended they were monsters.”

  “You are so not helping right now,” she hisses at me through clenched teeth.

  “We always won, though, right?” I say. “The monsters never got us.”

  “They were trees, Em. These monsters have guns and tattoos.”

  I laugh, thinking of Aidan and how Samantha would act if she saw him again, this time all lit up with that fire of his.

  “You won’t be laughing when we’re locked in someone’s trunk.”

  “You watch too much TV.” Didn’t Kara say something like that to me last time?

  A deep voice comes from the shadows on our left, “Hey, it’s Ginger.”

  Samantha grabs me and jumps back, squealing loud enough to make my head vibrate.

  Tray is standing there, hands to his ears, when my vision comes clear again.

  “Whoa,” he says.

  Samantha clenches my arm tighter and gasps.

  “Hey, Tray.” I bite my lips together to keep from laughing.

  He smirks. “Who’s the terrified white girl you’ve got attached to you there?”

  “This is Samantha,” I say. The tension in Samantha’s grip loosens. “Sam, this is Tray.”

  Tray studies her and holds out a hand. “Nice to meet you.” And his face lights up with that magical smile of his. He seems taller than I remember, but he certainly doesn’t look dangerous. Well, maybe a little. But only in a fun way.

  Samantha seems fascinated by his face for several seconds before she notices his offering. She licks her lips before reaching out to shake, a look of apology surfacing on her face.

  But when her fingers slide into his grip, instead of shaking it, he lifts her hand to his lips and brushes a kiss across her knuckles. “You have a lovely friend, Ginger.”

  Sam brightens instantly, and I see her eyes fill with that look she gets when she’s checking off boxes to see if a guy’s dateable or not—I can also see that she’s totally captivated by Tray’s beguiling dark eyes. It doesn’t look like she’s worrying about guys with tattoos now.

  I pull Samantha’s hand back to her side. “We’re here to see Miss Mae, is she home?”

  Tray looks away from Samantha and motions for us to follow. “Where’s Kara? Do you have an appointment?”

  My gut sinks. “No.” What if she doesn’t let me talk to her because I just showed up? I’m not Kara, she doesn’t know me, really.

  “Well, this is her busy time of day, so you might have to wait some.”

  We stop at the door to the apartment, and Tray touches my arm gently, like he’s trying to soothe my nerves. “It’ll be fine, Ginger. I’m sure she’ll see whatever it is that’s worrying you and help you sift through it.”

  I nod, unable to form words that make sense right now. Being here, so close to possible answers, makes all the worry crawl back to the surface. And I don’t even care that Tray is calling me Ginger. That’s almost as bad as Red—why do guys always do that?

  Tray nudges me and says, “Your lovely rich friend can wait with me if you need privacy.” He leans close and whispers at Samantha, “I’ll keep you safe from all the bad, girl. No worries.”

  “And who’s gonna keep her safe from the likes a’ you, Tray?” Miss Mae says as she opens the door to her apartment. Her bright smile greets us, gold teeth and all.

  My worry fades a little at the sight of her. She’s obviously not too bothered that I didn’t make an appointment. She’s in a hot-pink housedress with a bright-blue wrap over her hair. The two dozen necklaces she’s got around her neck, along with the clacking bracelets, are all especially shiny today, making her shimmer in the dark.

  “Well, well,” she says, “here you are, surprising me again. And you’re so . . .” She grimaces, looking me up and down. “What are you wearing, child?”

  Samantha raises her brow at me. “See?”

  “I need to talk to you about this.” I reach into my bag and pull out the rolled-up soul map.

  Her eyes widen a little as I try to hand it to her. “Right to the point, aren’t you?”

  “Kara and I did the—” I glance sideways at Samantha. “Well, I sort of gave her what she needed. But now I feel . . . not like me anymore.”

  Miss Mae studies me for several seconds, concern growing on her face. “You’re scared, aren’t you? Thinking you’ve got nothing left to hold on to, little one?”

  Her gentle words, the vocalization of my fears, seem to snap something inside me, and my throat goes tight, my eyes filling with tears.

  Miss Mae takes me in her big arms and leads me forward. “Here, child, come inside and we’ll figure it out, I promise.”

  NINE

  Rebecca

  Miss Mae makes me sit on the couch this time as she goes to the small alcove kitchen and puts a pot of water on to boil. “You’re lucky my seven thirty canceled. Sister Vivian can be quite the talker.” She bubbles with laughter for a second, then comes in to sit beside me, taking my hand in both of hers. “So your little friend out there doesn’t have any vision, does she?”

  I shake my head. “I didn’t mean to bring her, it just happened.”

  “Oh, nothing just happens, sweetie.” Her eyes twinkle with hidden secrets. “All things are ordered, all patterns are predicted and played out beforehand in the window of fate. She’ll be fine out there with Tray. I tease him but he’s a good boy, that one.” I nod because I don’t know what to say to all that. It kind of hurts my brain to think about fate and things being planned out. Especially when I know my fate isn’t playing out the way it was meant to.

  She clears her throat, sitting up straighter. “So, what can I do for you exactly?”

  I unfold the soul map on my knees and stare down at the shapes of dried blood. “I would like to do another one of these map th
ings so you can tell me what’s wrong with me. Like, what did I give Kara? How much did I give? Was it everything? I need to know.”

  Miss Mae turns the map and studies it. “Yes, looking now I see why you made that sacrifice. It’s in you, that love, that vital spirit of goodness, it’s a part of you. Don’t think it all slipped away so easily.”

  “I still want to know. Can you read me again?”

  She moves to the table where she pulls out her stack of cards as well as a fresh piece of velvet, this one a light green. “I chose this color because I’m sensing lots of earth and life around you; green is all over your aura.” She goes over to the teapot as it begins to whistle and turns off the burner.

  “Oh. What’s that mean?”

  “Well, the color was more subdued last time, but it was definitely tinted green. Now, it seems . . .” She squints at me, studying as she pours her tea. “It’s like someone cut your ties, and so the color’s brighter.” She shrugs and walks over, handing me the cards to shuffle.

  I have no idea what she could mean by all that, but I cut and shuffle the cards and then set them back down, waiting. Miss Mae has me pick out seven cards and hand them over one by one as she sets them in formation. When the last card is placed in the pattern, this odd buzzing starts behind my eyes, in my sinuses, tickling my nose.

  She begins turning the cards over with her plump fingers, telling me what each image represents. She says something about the power being in my hands, how the stars are within reach and I will work spells that protect—but I can’t really absorb her words. Everything is too foggy in my brain as the vibration gets louder and stronger.

  I pinch the bridge of my nose and squeeze my eyes shut, like I’m trying to stop a sneeze.

  Miss Mae goes suddenly quiet, and I glance up to see her giving me the oddest look.

  “Sorry,” I say. “I think I’m allergic to something. My sinuses are going nuts.”

  “I’ve seen enough of the cards.” She hasn’t turned them all, but she pushes them out of the way. “Let’s do the mapping right away.”

  My phone vibrates in my purse, showing an incoming call, but I ignore it. Whoever it is, they can wait.

  I watch as she gets it all ready, the bowl of water, a clutch of dried leaves, and that same silver dagger. I roll the pale-green velvet out on the table in front of me and rest my hands, palms up, inside the embroidered golden circle on the surface.

  My buzzing nerves start to turn raw as I recall the burning I’m going to feel, the strange ache in my chest. And as she sprinkles the pine-smelling stuff across my hands and slices into my palms, chanting, my heart speeds up, knowing answers are close.

  She motions for me to turn my hands over, and when I press them into the circle, the sting in my wounds flares almost unbearably. I let the pain show on my face this time, from the burning as my skin folds back together, healing itself, from the ache in my heart after everything that’s happened.

  Miss Mae wipes a tear from my cheek and kisses my forehead as the spell works its magic and my blood spreads out into the circle, creating the map.

  When she signals that it’s over, I lift my palms and look down at the odd shapes on the velvet.

  Miss Mae lays out the old map beside the new one and frowns down at it.

  Even I can see the differences; the first has more rounded, oval-shaped spots, while the new one is sharper and more scattered. Like there’re holes in the pattern or something.

  “This is amazing,” she says, shaking her head. She goes to a small dresser in the corner of the room and pulls out something from the top drawer. It’s another velvet square, this one pale blue. She unrolls it and sets it on top of my old map, beside the new one we just made. “Would you look at that.”

  “What?”

  She points at three spots on the blue velvet. “There, there, and there,” she says. And then she points at the pale-green square in three spots. “And then look, it’s the same.”

  I see it, three points on the bloodstain where it seemed the blood reached out, in the same pattern. “What’s that mean? Whose map is that?”

  “Why that’s Kara’s map from over a week ago, before the exchange.”

  “But . . .” Oh my Lord. “That’s Kara’s soul map?”

  “Isn’t that interesting, those three anomalies of shape show themselves on yours now.”

  “What are they?”

  “It’s the piece of Kara that could trick spirit.”

  “Trick spirit? What’s . . . I don’t understand. Did a part of Kara go into me?” The moment at the beach with Apple flashes through my mind. I acted like Kara.

  “It appears so, child. Though it seems it’s manifesting different because of your core energy. You see that?” She points at my new map to an area just under the matching pattern. “That’s your core and it hasn’t changed. It actually seems larger. That’s the green I see, the brighter part of your aura. I think you . . . well, it seems you’re a witch, child. Like me.”

  I laugh. “Excuse me?”

  “Many souls have this tendency, it manifests in different ways for everyone. When I saw it in the old map, it was small, and just a part of your lineage. Whatever happened in the exchange with Kara seems to have made it dominant. You have casting blood from your mother.”

  I shake my head, hoping to brush off her words, the confusion they bring. She’s saying I’m a witch. A witch. The only other person I know of who’s been called that, besides Miss Mae, was . . . Ava. Aidan’s sister was a witch. Is.

  “Don’t be afraid, sweetie. We choose our own destiny.”

  “Really?” Anger sparks in my gut. “Because I didn’t choose this. Not any of it.”

  A knock on the door breaks through my frustration.

  Tray’s voice comes muffled through the wood. “I think the Ginger’s gonna want to hear this.”

  Miss Mae rolls up my new soul map along with the old one and hands them both to me. “Don’t fear who you are, Rebecca. Allow your spirit to guide you, and know that you are lovely inside and out. That beauty of grace and kindness in you hasn’t changed. Not even a little. You just need to allow it to have the space it needs to grow.”

  I take the maps from her and put them in my purse, feeling numb and confused. “I appreciate your help.” I’m not sure what else to say. She did what I asked and has given me answers. But what does it all mean?

  I do know that I was right to come. Because it’s now obvious that I’m not crazy; I’m not the same person. I gave part of myself to Kara, and somehow pieces of her got passed on to me as well. I think of Kara’s bravery, how fearless she is . . . I could use some backbone about now.

  Miss Mae hugs me before I walk out of her apartment. She kisses my brow, then whispers strange words as she touches my hair. She says good-bye and then disappears back inside, leaving me standing beside Tray.

  Samantha is behind him, her face scrunched in concern. “Are you okay, Em?”

  “I think Aidan might be trying to call you,” Tray says. “My brother texted to tell me that some shit went down, and it sounds like your man got caught up in a bit of a mess.”

  His words take a second to sink in, but then I think of Aidan in trouble, of Connor beside him when the trouble comes.

  I scrounge around in my bag, looking for my phone. It was vibrating, someone was trying to call me. Connor better be okay, he better not be—he’s fine, he has to be fine.

  Aidan’s number shows as the missed call. I tap it and wait as it rings. And rings. When I hear a voice come on the line, I blurt out, “Is Connor okay?”

  “Uh . . . yeah, he’s—” there’s a pause. Aidan’s voice fades like he’s speaking to someone else. “Hey, man, Rebecca’s worried about you. Didn’t you tell her anything?” Another pause, then Aidan says into the receiver, “Connor is going to call you, but he’s fine now.”

  “He wasn’t fine before?” I ask. “What happened?”

  “A very long story, but I’ll fill you in later. That is
if you’re willing to maybe help me with something.”

  I don’t like his avoidance, but if Connor’s all right, then I guess the details can wait. “What exactly do you need?” I ask, cautiously.

  “I need you to come to the club so we can talk. You know the one where we met? Can you swing by?”

  “Yeah, I can come. But why?”

  “I need to see something . . . I can’t explain over the phone. It’ll be easier in person. Can you just meet me as soon as possible? Tonight?”

  I blow out a puff of frustrated air, feeling like there are a million things that need to be worked out between us before I do him any more favors. But for now, it seems, he’s focused on some new problem. “Okay. I’ll be there.” I should just go home. But he’s right, we should talk in person. There are some things we need to talk about. I have to tell him what Miss Mae just said. I wonder how horrified he’ll be when he finds out a part of Kara went into me. And that I’m a . . . witch?

  I hang up and collapse into the plastic chair on the tiny porch.

  “Is everything all right?” Tray asks. “Jax said the cops are after that guy.”

  My head snaps up. “Connor?”

  “No, the magical kid, Aidan.”

  “Oh.” I don’t know why, but that doesn’t worry me like it should.

  “Hey, do you guys smell that?” Samantha asks, sniffing at the air. I’d actually forgotten she was here for a second.

  I drop my phone in my bag and stand. “I don’t smell anything, but I’m sensing it’s definitely time to go home.”

  Tray lifts his chin and sniffs the air, too. “Wait, I—”

  His words are cut off as his body jerks to the side, tumbling to the ground, like an invisible force just shoved him. Hard.

  “Oh, God!” Samantha says. She kneels down and hovers over him. “Are you okay?”

  My muscles tense. The hairs on my arms prickle and rise. A strange smell billows around me, like rotten eggs and moldy cheese. There’s a hissing from under the chair, and a dark shape emerges, something like a hairless dog. Purple and blue veins weave over its thin skin, patches of bristly fur on its shoulders and chest. Its eyes are fully black, as if the pupils took over. The dark holes look at me with a strange giddiness as the creature slinks out into the low porch light and rises up on its hind legs to face me.