Darkness Savage (The Dark Cycle Book 3)

by Rachel A. Marks

  “Should we tell him it’s verde?” my dad asks.

  “No, this it too much fun.” I smile. “I think she’s pulling his leg, but he’s more stubborn than I thought.”

  My dad releases soft laughter and sips from his coconut. “His argument with the cab driver when we got here didn’t clue you in?”

  “Connor was right, the guy was cheating us.”

  “I’m paying.”

  “He’s trying to be polite, Dad.”

  My dad squints out at the water. He’s quiet for a few seconds, then says, hesitantly, “I heard from the lawyer this morning.”

  I turn to look at him, my heartbeat speeding up. That can only mean one thing.

  “Your grandmother has agreed to meet with you,” he adds.

  I panic a little inside, feeling torn. “What should I do? Should I go?”

  He sighs, heavily. “I can’t say that she’s the nicest woman. But she might be able to help you with all these . . . abilities you have now.”

  “I’ve been practicing with Aidan and that’s been helping.”

  “Except for the wall you exploded in my garage. And don’t forget the tree that’s growing in our living room.”

  “I’m trying,” I say. “Really.” I know this has been hard for him. And even with his own fears and insecurities, he’s been so patient, so present for me. I don’t think I’d have gotten through the last few months without him. After everything with Ava, with the discovery of my powers, I needed time to just be me.

  My dad decided on this vacation after the living-room-tree incident, saying it was time for me to hang out somewhere more salty, and that he needed to get out of the traffic. I’m sure it wasn’t totally an excuse, though; he probably did want to get out of the city. With all the roadwork and reconstruction going on after the earthquake that Aidan caused when he destroyed the doorway, the place is a madhouse. Even more than normal. But my dad also invited Connor because he knew how happy it would make me.

  “I’m willing to consider something new,” I say.

  “I know you’re more comfortable with Aidan, but he tried and it’s not working.”

  I nod and look back over to Connor. My throat stings now, watching him, my comfort fading as I think about the future. If I do this, go see my grandmother, I’ll be leaving him behind. I’ll have to do it alone.

  “I still haven’t opened the envelope,” I say, quietly. “With the letters.”

  He reaches over and takes my hand. If Ava’s right and my real father is someone—something—else, I don’t want to know. Because this man is the one I choose.

  “You’ll know when you’re ready,” he says.

  Connor comes back and kneels beside me, holding out a green necklace. “For you.”

  I lean over and let him place it over my head. It’s lovely, abalone shells woven through with green thread. “You did it,” I say.

  “I did,” he says with a grin. “Mission accomplished. I called Holly, and she talked to the woman.”

  I laugh. “You cheated.”

  “I adapted.” He kisses my cheek and moves to sit in his own chair, lying back and tucking his hands behind his head. “I’m bummed we have to go home day after tomorrow.”

  “Me too,” I say.

  “Yes,” my dad says, longing in his voice.

  Connor looks over to us and directs his words to my father. “Thank you for letting me tag along, sir.”

  My dad sets his coconut drink down and starts to get up. “Time for another piña colada.” He stands and walks by, pausing when he gets to Connor, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Call me Patrick, son.” And then he leaves us in stunned silence.

  “Did he just call me son?” Connor asks after a few seconds.

  “And he gave you the patriarchal anointing—he patted your shoulder.”

  Connor laughs. “I suppose that means we’re going steady now.” He takes hold of the base of my chair and pulls it closer to line up with his.

  “At least. You may owe my dad a goat, though.”

  He leans close and says in a low voice, “Then we should probably seal the deal.” And he licks the tip of my nose.

  I giggle and push him away, but he’s stronger than me, and in a few seconds he’s got me wrapped in his arms. I smile and sink into him and try not to think about what comes next in my life, try not to think about leaving him. I force myself to keep smiling as the next two days pass. As we shop in the market and make dinner with my dad in the small condo’s kitchen, as we play cards and talk late into the night.

  It isn’t until Connor and I are standing in front of my house, saying good-bye three days later that I let the guise fall.

  “We’ll talk every day on the phone,” I say, tucking my face into his neck and smelling his warm, salty skin before kissing his scar softly.

  “And you’ll text me pictures of all the East Coast blue bloods.” He rubs my back and squeezes me tighter against his chest. He wasn’t happy when I told him that I was going to my grandmother’s, but he understood. He’s seen my frustration as I’ve tried to get my abilities under control. He’s had struggles of his own, too. Even though Kara said he’d be able to heal the others, he still hasn’t figured out how. And every once in a while the sudden flashes of pain will come back.

  “You send pictures, too,” I say.

  He pulls away a little and looks down at me with a smirk. “Of what? The traffic or the long lines at Starbucks?”

  “Of you guys. Of the jobs and stuff. I’m going to miss you.”

  He pulls me back into the hug. “I know.”

  I try not to let the sting in my throat take over as I confess, “I’m scared to face this, Connor.”

  He kisses my cheek and runs a hand over my hair in comfort. “You’re amazing. And brave. And you’ll be back with us before you know it.”

  I nod and take his lips with mine. I fold myself into his arms and let myself feel his warmth, his tenderness, as we remind each other what it means to be in love and let the rest of the world fall away.

  Aidan

  “That’s not where those go!” my great-grandmother shouts at Kara, who’s trying to help me repair some of the quake damage to the beach house.

  Right now, Kara is rearranging some potted plants in the yard so I can set up a spot to paint the wood that’s going to replace the old trellis. Kara might as well be building the Empire State Building with Stalin in charge. She’s rolling with it, though.

  She moves the fern more to the right. “Better?”

  My grandmother huffs, steps over to the pot, and hoists it with her bird arms. The thing has to weigh almost as much as her. But she clambers off the cement porch, over to the flagstone, and plops it down. “There! That’s where Abacopteris penangiana goes. Alphabetical order, young lady. How many times do I have to tell you?”

  Kara bites back a laugh. “At least three more times, Mrs. O’Linn.”

  “Sassy thing, aren’t you?” She scowls, then barks, “Aidan!”

  I step out from behind the hydrangea I was hiding behind. “Yes, ma’am.”

  She waves me over, closer, until she can grip my shirt. She leans in so she can whisper. “Where did you find this wild girl?”

  I glance at Kara, who’s just standing there looking smug. “Uh, well . . . I guess you could say we work together.”

  She frowns. “Do you think she’s pretty?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you dating her?” she snaps.

  “Uh, yes.”

  She releases the front of my shirt and pats my chest. “Nice to see you have good taste.” And then she pats my cheek. “Now stop peeping at us through the bushes and get my trellis back up so I can have my roses nice and lively again.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I get back to work with a smile and leave the women to themselves. Now that I see Kara can hold her own, I feel better. And I hate to think it matters, but knowing my great-grandmother approves of Kara makes me almost giddy. I didn’t ad
mit it to Kara—I barely admitted it to myself—but I brought her today to see how they would get along. Even though Mrs. O’Linn is in the dark about our family connection, neither of these ladies will be leaving my life anytime soon.

  After another hour or so, Kara finds me just as I’m finishing up cutting the wood. I’m not sure I’ll be getting to the painting today, since we’ve got to pick up Jax and meet Tray for a job later, but I want to get to a good stopping place.

  “Hey,” she says, looking me over. “How are you doing on time?”

  “Almost done.”

  She leans on the wall and watches me stack the pieces of wood. I feel the heat coming off of her as she gives me a crooked smile, showing me her dimple. “You look pretty sexy all covered in sawdust.”

  I pause to wipe my face with my shirt. “Oh? How about sweat?”

  She laughs.

  “Your lady friend is a tough taskmaster,” she says.

  “But she pays well.”

  Kara looks surprised. “She pays you?”

  “In food.” I wink.

  “Boys.” She pulls her phone out of her pocket and reads the screen for a second. “Tray’s ready when we are. Did you get those protection pouches finished last night?”

  “Yeah, but we ran out of wolfsbane.” I drop the last piece of wood on the stack and pull off my work gloves. “Let me just say good-bye to Mrs. O’Linn and we can go.”

  “Should I factor in enough time to eat a meal while I wait in the car?”

  I rest my arm on her shoulder as we walk around the house to the front door. “Or two.”

  “Ugh, you weren’t kidding about the sweat.” She pushes me off her and makes a face.

  I chase her with my armpit for a minute until I’ve got her giggling madly. And then I tickle her until she agrees to come inside and eat.

  The house is quiet when we get back from the job. We’re living at Eric’s Malibu place now, with Hanna. Over the last three months she’s become the den mother to our raggedy crew. At first we were there more for her than she was for us, so she wouldn’t be alone, but as time’s passed and the business of life has taken over, she’s given us steadiness in the midst of all the change and helped us forget a tiny bit of the sadness each day as she’s become the glue that holds us all together.

  The house is huge, with a slick modern look to the style and architecture. Like Eric, I guess. I see him in the pieces of ancient pottery framed on the walls, in the Indian rugs. I see him in the view outside the wall of windows that faces west; a peek through the Santa Monica Mountains, the Pacific a blue ribbon in the distance. Right now the sky is painted in pastels as the sun sets into the horizon. It’s the first thing I notice when we walk into the house, and immediately I want to go outside and watch the night rise. So I can see her. But not yet.

  Holly and Raul are sitting at the kitchen table. Holly’s helping Raul study for a test—since he’s started at the high school, Raul’s had his nose in one book or another. Happily, just like Holly. The two of them are peas in a pod now, baking and braining like pros.

  Kara convinced Tray to come over for dinner tonight after the job. The house feels empty since Connor left on vacation with Rebecca, and now that Tray’s mom is out of rehab and doing better holding down a job, he feels less of a need to be guarding Selena so closely. Kara’s been working overtime to convince him to move in, but he’s not budging.

  After the earthquake, his neighborhood was one of the ones that were pretty bad off. There was a lot of looting in the aftermath, and several deaths related to riots over the lack of clean water and electricity. I keep telling myself that no one died the day of the quake, so it’s all right. But they did die after. Of course, a lot more people would’ve died if I’d left the doorway wide open. It’s all numbers and semantics when I think of it that way. The vicious truth is that, whichever way you slice it, it’s too huge a tragedy to measure.

  “Hanna’s at the club, so we can eat junk food for dinner,” Jax announces when we walk into the kitchen. “I vote that we order pizza. And rolls. And large loaves of bread slathered in butter—God, I miss gluten. Hanna’s idea of healthy kinda sucks. I feel fit. But sad.” He plops down at the table beside Raul. “What’re we studying tonight?”

  “Tolstoy,” Raul says, holding up a fat book. “And how he saw the Napoleonic era.”

  Jax rolls his eyes. “Speak English, this is America.”

  “I could go for pizza,” Tray says.

  Holly pushes her glasses up her nose as she looks around the table. “Who said you two could sit here?”

  “Your heart, baby,” Jax says, kissing the air. “You’re welcome.”

  “I’m gonna shower, then I’ll call in the pizza order,” Kara says. “No one kill Jax while I’m gone—I don’t wanna miss it.”

  And then everyone’s settled into their tasks, except me. I watch them for a few minutes, smiling at how they all play off each other and laugh, how they live in the moment. But soon I find myself drawn to the outdoors.

  I walk out the back and down the deck stairs into the yard. The sunset paints the sky pink and orange, and the hills around the house start to take on shadows, coyotes and mountain lions emerging from their hiding places to rule the darkness. An owl’s already started calling from the tall eucalyptus trees that rim the property as I make my way to the edge of the yard where it drops off into a steep hill. You can’t smell the ocean from this far away, but I imagine that I can. I pretend I can taste the salt on my tongue as the wind picks up through the canyon.

  It’s peaceful out here. And I know she’ll come soon. So I wait. I watch the night rise, the moon appear, and listen to the subtle sounds the darkness brings. I let the damp air chill my skin and remind me that I’m alive as it bites into my lungs.

  Until I feel her presence. The soft press at my back, the tingle at the base of my neck.

  I turn slowly and see her standing under the oak tree that clings to the bluff. The shadows of night play over her sheer form, so familiar. So close I could step three paces and touch her small shoulder, where her silver hair lifts now and then in wisps, floating with a ghostly breeze. She holds her violin and bow at her side as she rocks back and forth from toe to heel.

  She wants me to know that she likes my haircut.

  I tell her about my day and she smiles, a light of joy in her eyes. I don’t remember her smiling at me when she was alive like she does now. I don’t remember her having peace like what drifts from her when I see her in our moments. She’s told me several times that she’s forgiven me. She wishes she’d seen more clearly, that she had revealed more of her secrets. And she doesn’t understand why she chose the Darkness. It troubles her still.

  We’ve tried to sort through it all, to figure out where I went wrong, where she was lost to me. But it always ends with a single dark realization; there’s no changing it.

  So tonight I don’t let my mind take us down that path again. Instead we listen to the rustling in the brush and try to guess the animal. We watch as the stars appear overhead and the moon takes her place. Then we name each pinprick of light in the sky, until Kara calls me in for dinner. And I say good-bye again.

  Ava’s pale figure looks on in peaceful silence as I walk back to the house. The smell of her energy follows me, reminding me to return.

  And her violin begins to sing, her toes curling in the clusters of tiny white flowers at her feet.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  There’s a village of people that are summoned to help a writer finish a trilogy; something I’ve discovered is a massive undertaking. But I was blessed to have had an ocean of support and encouragement. I’m so thankful for everyone who stood by me through this adventure. The patience it takes for the friends and the loved ones of a writer on deadline is a true test of sacrifice. I am blessed.

  So many thanks to my agent, Rena Rossner: lady, you are kick-ass (plus, you put up with me). And as always I am so grateful to my pro team at Amazon Publishing’s Skyscape, who
are wonderful at challenging me to go further and do better than I thought I could. Marianna Baer, you, my dear, are amazing. If these books are any good, it’s because of your guidance and story wisdom. Courtney Miller, you took the leap with me—thank you so much for letting me go on this adventure with you. What a ride! Adrienne Lombardo, you’re a gem. Bunny-lovers rock!

  A million blathering thank-yous to my very patient and supportive writer friends who keep me going, on Codex and LB, you know who you are. You are angels, truly. To the Panera Posse, you have kept me solid and grounded in the storm of chaos and reminded me how much fun writing can be when things went nutty. A special thanks to Catherine, who read like a speedster, helping me talk through the edit of this monster third book and get everything happening in the right place. You were a godsend, chicky!

  To my most amazing bestie, Cayse (you too, Dave), who keeps my feet firmly planted where they should be. God knew I needed you, my friend.

  To my mom, who has become a permanent taxi driver over the last year. My kids would get nowhere without you! Plus, you buy me coffee. And listen to all my complaining. *hugs*

  My kids . . . you crazy beasts. You were and are and will always be my most precious creation. You are each unique, you are vital. Don’t forget, you have a voice. Mommy loves you with her whole self.

  To my soul mate, my true heart, my husband; I am so grateful. We celebrated our twentieth year together while I was in this process, and you set aside your goals and your needs for me to reach this dream. May you reap what you’ve sown, my love. You are the best part of this gift called life.

  But, most of all, all glory and love to my creator, Elohei Kedem, my Light in the dark places. Keep my daddy in your arms. And give him a hug from his little girl.