Darkness Savage (The Dark Cycle Book 3)

by Rachel A. Marks

  “Miss Mae told you that?” Green witch or not, it’s obvious Miss Mae isn’t much of a reader of people. Rebecca is not the opposite of a Light. I know that much.

  “She didn’t say that, exactly,” Rebecca hedges. And then she stands abruptly and begins to pace “Things have been . . . weird since the exchange with Kara.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I haven’t felt like myself. I haven’t been myself. I wasn’t sure what was going on with me, so—”

  “So, you went to Miss Mae for answers. And she gave you some. Just say it, Rebecca.”

  She spins to face me. “Give me a second!” The green of her eyes flashes. “God, you’re so annoying.”

  My head pulls back in surprise. “I am?”

  “Yes!” She throws her hands up. Then she comes at me, her finger pointing in my face. “You’re always so perfect and protective and bossy and you care about freaking everyone. It’s exhausting. And you know everything!” She motions around her to the books, then goes back to pointing accusingly at me.

  Oh, boy, is she wrong.

  “But I don’t know anything,” she continues. “I really don’t.” Her finger pokes at my shoulder. “So let me take a second to think.”

  I look up at her, her red hair hanging in her face, her eyes fiery, her energy sweet and full of sass, and a strange feeling overwhelms me, like déjà vu. “What’s gotten into you? You’re acting like—” But my voice freezes in my throat as a very blurry puzzle plays out in front of me.

  Her hand falls back to her side, and she looks into me like her brain is following mine down the rabbit hole.

  She just keeps looking at me, then whispers. “It’s crazy right? I guess some of her went into me in the exchange.”

  How could I have not thought of this? The road went both ways. “Miss Mae said a part of Kara went into you?”

  “She said I got some kind of gift. One that could . . . trick souls.”

  The air leaves my lungs. “Kara didn’t have any gifts. She was cursed.” I should have looked at Rebecca’s soul after the exchange, checked and made sure everything was all right. But I was so caught up. I was . . . I was being selfish. Rebecca gave so much, she’d only been there for others. And all I could do was let her give and not care about the consequences to her because I was so relieved that Kara was safe. God, what a prick I am.

  “Miss Mae didn’t act like it was a bad thing,” she says. “She just said it wouldn’t—manifest, I think is the word she used—she said it wouldn’t look the same because of how I’m a—”

  Her words break off, and her eyes grow a little like she almost let something slip.

  “You’re a what?” I ask, looking her over. What the hell did that witch tell her that’s got her so messed up in the head?

  She backs up several steps, and her chin goes up in defense again. “She said I’m a witch.”

  SIXTEEN

  Rebecca

  Aidan laughs sharply, like a shock just ran through him.

  I can’t look him in the eye; he seems completely stunned. So I just repeat myself. “She said I’m a witch. Because of blood on my mom’s side.”

  “You’re serious.” His expression becomes severe. Then he turns and goes to the couch, sinking down on the cushions, shaking his head. “I can’t believe it,” he finally mumbles under his breath. “I don’t even know what to say.”

  “Yeah, well, me neither.”

  He sits there for what feels like more than a minute, staring at his hands. A hundred emotions surface on his face, like he’s having some sort of silent conversation with himself. Just when I think he’s decided he won’t be speaking to me again, ever, he says, “If this is true, we need to find out what it means. It can’t be a coincidence.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He looks up at me, and confusion and doubt cloud his features now. “My sister knew what you were. She told me to find you.”

  I stare at him, stunned. That’s really not what I expected him to say. “Ava knew what I was?”

  He picks up a tiny piece of paper off the coffee table and looks at it, mumbling, “The demon attack. Of course.”

  “What?”

  “I can’t believe it. You’re like her.”

  I really don’t like the sad tone in his voice. Her. Ava. I am so not Ava. Am I?

  “This has to mean something,” he says. Then he looks up from the piece of paper to me. “Doesn’t it?”

  And suddenly he’s coming at me, grabbing my hand, pulling me from the apartment.

  “What’re you doing?!” I ask, terrified he’s lost it and is about to kick me to the curb.

  “Taking you to the man who might know what the hell’s going on with all this.”

  “Who?”

  “My guardian angel.”

  He moves fast, but he stops pulling on me as I follow him down the stairs, back into the large garage. The ceilings are at least three stories above us. A black car is parked off to the right in front of a large roll-up door that he rushes us past, then he’s walking down a hall where there’s an eight-foot round metal door that looks like the opening to a bank vault. “Your guardian angel is locked up in there?”

  “It’s Eric, he’s my guardian. He owns this place. This is usually where he works at this time of day.”

  “Oh.” I’ve heard Eric’s name mentioned but I didn’t know he was an . . . angel. How does an angel own anything? Don’t they just watch from church steeples or something? Or is that gargoyles?

  He punches numbers and letters into a keypad beside the vault door, and there’s a thud as it unlocks.

  “You can let go of me now,” I say as he opens the heavy door. He releases my hand and motions for me to go in front of him. I step inside and have to hold in a gasp. It’s a museum. Statues, paintings, huge pieces of pottery stacked along the wall. Rows and rows of metal shelves jam-packed with what look like ancient artifacts, books, and scrolls. The artist in me is in awe; my fingers itch to touch, to draw the timeworn relics all around me. I totally get the vault door now.

  I walk into the large space, feeling like I’m entering a temple full of holy things. It smells like dust and paper and oils. The sight, the feeling, leave me breathless for a second before I realize he’s talking to me.

  “Eric has to know why this came up now,” Aidan is saying. “I mean, it’s not like the legacy just showed up in your blood. It’s been there since you were born. And Ava knew, so it must somehow be connected to what she’s doing. It has to be.” He pauses, then something seems to dawn on him, and he gets this odd look on his face. “How could you be a Light, then? And you were supposed to be my soul mate?” He sounds disturbed by that idea.

  I have to tear my eyes away from studying an unframed painting in the corner that looks like da Vinci could’ve painted it. “What is a Light, really?” I ask.

  “One of my soldiers, I guess?”

  There’s an echo of footsteps from behind one of the shelves to our left, and then a voice says, “They aren’t your soldiers, Aidan. They belong to HaShem.”

  A tall blond man emerges from a row of artifacts. All my focus lands on him, his presence in the room like a beacon. He has etched and striking features, but his hazel-green eyes are soft, even kind, as he studies me. If this man is an angel, then angels have great taste in clothes. Samantha would be floored by those shoes. Definitely Italian.

  “Hello, Rebecca,” he says, his voice quiet.

  “Hello,” I say, feeling a little vulnerable as his gaze becomes penetrating.

  His lips tip in a small smile. “It’s lovely to meet you, finally.” He walks toward us, and I see there’s a woman behind him. I hadn’t noticed her at all. He holds out his hand for me to shake it.

  I take it, and as his skin touches mine, it seems to glisten with golden flecks. Did I really just see that? He lets go before I can be sure.

  “This is a surprise,” the woman says. She comes out from behind the shelves. She’s beautiful. A
nd tall, almost as tall as Eric. She has a small bandage on her temple and her feet are bare, but somehow she still looks perfectly put together.

  “I’m Hanna.” Her dark eyes search my face then skip over to Aidan. “Perhaps next time you can let us know if you need something in the vault.”

  Aidan looks between Eric and Hanna, but only says, “Sorry.” Then he focuses all his attention on Eric. “Something else has come up, Eric. I’m not sure what to think.”

  Eric glances sideways at Aidan as he speaks, still focusing most of his attention on me. He’s studying me so intently; it should be intimidating, but it’s not.

  “Did you bring her here because of something specific?” he asks, nodding to me.

  “Miss Mae told her she might be a witch,” Aidan says.

  “She didn’t say might,” I correct. “She said I had the blood of a witch, from my mother’s side.”

  Eric’s brow goes up, and his eyes scan my body, starting at my feet and up, then seeming to eagle-eye my hair. “Interesting.”

  Hanna comes forward to stand beside Eric and study me as well. “Very curious.”

  “Yes,” Aidan says. “And crazy when you consider that she was supposed to be my soul mate, and that she might still be a Light.”

  “Why is that crazy?” Eric asks.

  Aidan just gapes at him. “Seriously? You know what my mother was—what my sister is. Take a wild guess.”

  His insistence on comparing me to his sister is getting infuriating. “Obviously not all witches are bad, Aidan,” I say.

  He looks over to me.

  “I mean, Miss Mae isn’t evil,” I add. I don’t think she is anyway. She sure didn’t seem to be. The woman helped me find answers, and she didn’t have to; she didn’t ask for anything in return.

  “I’ve never met her,” Aidan says.

  “And so you think you have the right to judge her?”

  “I’m not judging anyone,” he says, but I can tell he’s forcing his voice to be calm. “I’m just trying to figure out why my sister was, for some reason, directing me to you with her terrifying game. She’s playing us, and I need to know how, I need to know why. How is she going to use this to cause more death and torment?” He makes a sound of frustration in the back of his throat and goes over to sit in a desk chair, looking defeated. “She tried to kill you, Rebecca. There’s something about you that she’s threatened by.”

  His words, the helplessness in his voice, the sheer idea of Ava having some sort of design on me . . .

  I shiver.

  “Have you looked at Rebecca’s soul since the exchange with Kara, Aidan?” Eric asks.

  Aidan shakes his head, looking annoyed at himself.

  “I think that I would like to see.” Eric glances over to me. “Would you mind?”

  My tongue is apparently paralyzed. I can only look at the blond man in the expensive shoes and wonder what his reading my soul might entail. I remember Aidan saying that he could see it, that he knew I was a virgin. I’m just not sure when it was that he actually saw my soul—or how he sees it.

  “Don’t be afraid,” Eric says.

  Aidan seems to realize I’m panicking a little, because he says gently, “You can say no, Rebecca.”

  “No,” I say. “I mean, I’m sure it’s fine. I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

  “Nothing,” Eric says. “I’ll merely look at you and we’ll be done.” He glances at Aidan and adds, “Though I’m not as talented as our Fire Bringer, I’ll have to move into my other state to see the shadow realm, rather than just feel it.” He turns to Hanna. “I’ll return in moments if you need me. Use the pendant like I showed you if you want to send me a message.”

  Hanna takes his hand and squeezes it. “How long will you be gone?”

  “I’m not sure. There are things I need to take care of on the other side, including protecting the lot and club better, so we don’t have a repeat of this morning. Be careful, will you?”

  Hanna nods.

  Eric turns back to me. “Will you follow me out into the open?”

  I glance at Aidan, but he just nods like he’s trying to tell me it’s all right. I don’t feel all right, though. Still, we follow Eric into the hall, then out into the parking lot.

  “If I find more answers about your sister when I cross over, I’ll send word,” Eric says to Aidan once we’re outside, then he focuses back on me.

  A cell phone rings, and Aidan stops following us. He pulls his phone from his pocket, checks the screen, and puts it to his ear, an urgent look on his face. He waves for us to go ahead and steps back into the warehouse, like he needs privacy. I kind of wish he would tell whoever it is to wait and stay for what’s next. I’m not sure I feel good about this intimidating blond angel digging into my spiritual baggage without a little—

  My thoughts are cut short as Eric’s figure seems to blink in and out of existence for a second, an image projection that isn’t quite coming clear.

  Then he flickers away. Completely gone. Only a dusting of gold in the air left behind.

  SEVENTEEN

  Aidan

  Holly’s voice sounds strained on the other end of the line. “This house is crazy right now, Aidan. The phone’s been ringing off the hook all day. Total AF cray-zone. Demons and ghosts and all kinds of creepy-crawlies. Haven’t been able write it all down fast enough.”

  “We can’t worry about the business right now,” I say. Money and clients can wait. “Can you change the outgoing message to say we’ve got a waiting list or we’ve gone on hiatus or something?”

  “Yeah, I’ll do that. But don’t you think this tells us your sister is a busy bee? It’s like she’s handing out LA Paranormal business cards after her minions wreak havoc. I had three ghosts come to me last night. Three! And they all complained to me about the same thing: demons.”

  Wonderful. Ava’s letting her minions run rampant.

  I dare to ask, “How’s Sid?” A tiny squeak comes from her, sending my gut spinning, and I ask hurriedly, “He’s not—”

  She chokes out, “No, he’s still here. Kara won’t leave his side.” Her voice cracks, but then she clears her throat and adds, “He’s stopped throwing up now, though.”

  “What about Connor?”

  “He’s better, I think.” She sighs. “He and Jax took Raul out on a job in Encino, to see if they could help some lady with what sounds like blight in her garden—she thinks it’s a land curse or something. The whole thing seemed harmless enough. Everybody’s going bonks. I think they needed to be MIA.” She sniffs, and her voice wavers again when she adds, “I wish you were here, Aidan. We could really use you.”

  “I know.” I take a breath, trying to still the storm in my gut. “Sorry, Holly.” I’d love the distraction of something normal myself, even if it is ghost hunting, but the chance of being recognized and attracting cops isn’t worth it for something like that. They’re probably safer without me on jobs, anyway.

  “Yeah.” She sniffs again.

  “Will everyone be home tonight? You don’t have any classes, do you?”

  “We’re done for the summer, so no more classes. Besides, there’s no way my brain could handle cellular regeneration or neurobiology with things so MFU.”

  “Okay, then we should have a late house meeting. I’ll sneak over after sundown. I need to talk to you guys about a few things.”

  “I’ll let everybody know. Be safe.”

  Rebecca is leaning on her dad’s car, picking at her nails, looking bored. Her posture seems so much like Kara’s suddenly. It’s mind blowing to think that a piece of the girl I love is now sitting inside of Rebecca. I have to wonder what Miss Mae meant about “tricking souls” and pray it doesn’t mean anything horrible. She glances up as I walk closer and then rolls her eyes. “Your angel just disappeared. I have no clue what’s going on.”

  I glance around the parking lot and spot Eric at the north edge, looking down the alley. “He’s right there.” I motion to where
he’s standing, but then I see he’s more golden than human. He’s still in his angelic state on the other side.

  She glances in the direction I’ve pointed. “Well, can you talk to him when he’s invisible? What did he see?”

  Eric turns around and begins walking toward us. As he moves through the Veil, the air of the other world is like a cloak of magic around him. Flames emerge at his feet, flecks of metal spill from his shoulders. He seems a little taller and his eyes are so green it’s difficult to look right at him; his skin is so pale it seems to shimmer. He pauses in front of Rebecca and motions slowly to her hair, her shoulders, like it should explain things. I don’t get it until I let myself look at her through the Veil, and I see her energy.

  No way. No fucking way. She’s bursting with power now. A total change from before. It manifests so similar to Kara’s energy, the way it spills like water and seems to shape around her in pulsing waves. But where Kara’s energy is blue and light, mostly flowing from her when she’s focused on me, Rebecca’s essence is green—as green as the newest spring growth.

  The green witch.

  There’s a scent to the energy, like the fields right after the rain. A soothing, calming smell. It’s so lovely I can barely breathe as I watch it shift and move over her skin. But what does it mean? My mother never had power like that. My sister certainly didn’t.

  If there was any color at all to my mother’s energy when she did spells, it was red mist from the blood, or the faint silver her skin seemed to glitter with sometimes.

  There’s more than one type of witch power, apparently, because Rebecca’s energy doesn’t feel bad, whether it’s witch or not. As I watch it slide over her, I get the urge to fall to my knees. It’s awe inspiring.

  I turn to Eric to ask all my questions, but then I remember that we can’t communicate with words when he’s on one side of the Veil and I’m on the other. He begins to walk forward like he’s going to touch my temple, draw me across like he has before, but I step back and lift my hands. I’m in no mood to leave my body right now.