Darkness Descends: A Skye Faden Novel

by Alisha Ashton

  Ciaran leapt onto him, knocking him off of Taran and sending them both crashing to the floor.

  Taran was in the mix in a heartbeat.

  The similarities these men had to wolves had never been quite as evident as they were in that moment. They snapped, snarled, bared teeth, growled, and lashed out at one another viciously. All that was missing were bites, barks, and yelps.

  Drawn by the fight, other faoil poured in from all directions, rushing to drag the enraged men apart.

  Elijah was among them. He gave Skye a startled look as he raced past her to help break it up. Fights amongst pack members were common occurrences. Fights amongst ancients, however, were extremely rare.

  What the young ones failed to realize was that the rarity of such incidents was only due to ancients being separated by so many miles. They had gone out into the world and started their own packs, leading their pups by example. When they were back with their equals again, with their brothers again, good old fashioned sibling rivalry invariably resurfaced.

  The voices of nearly 50 shouting men echoed through the castle which, unfortunately, drew even more in response. In the span of a minute the hall had gone from serene and peaceful, then to an argument, and at last to all-out chaos.

  “ENOUGH!” Skye finally screamed into the crowd.

  She watched in awe as they instantly silenced and stilled.

  Why are they all listening to me, she wondered? And how did I already know that they would?

  She decided not to waste time pondering her alarming ability to control so many faoil. It would only give them a chance to start fighting again. With a look of disbelief painted across her features, she shook her head and stepped between the restrained men. Before she spoke, she took a moment to look from one angry face to the next.

  “Would somebody please tell me just what in the fuck is going on around here?” She demanded. “You guys are the most happy-go-lucky bunch of muscles I’ve ever met in my life. Now all the sudden you’re tarring off and whooping one another’s asses?” She asked incredulously as they scowled and avoided her gaze. “Go ahead and let them go. If any of them take a swing, you won’t have to get involved again because I’m going to throw them a beating,” she warned as she motioned for the men to release them.

  They each shook free angrily as the grips on them were relaxed.

  “Now, I was under the impression that we had a ‘Gathering’ to ‘Call’ for, but apparently we’re not on that tight of a schedule. Not if we have enough time to kick it schoolyard and throw down in the middle of the hallway,” she scolded as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Firstly, Drostan, I realize you’re upset – not that I have any idea why, but it’s clear that you feel your reasons are valid. I’m going to say this once. Just once,” she warned, holding up a finger in front of his face as she locked eyes with him. “If you ever again have something negative to say about me or Taran, you will say it so that I can understand it. I don’t give a flying fuck whether you guys knew one another for 4,000 or 40,000 years before I showed up. He’s not just your ‘brother’ anymore. He’s also my mate. Got that? What you just did was low. You insulted us both in a manner that wouldn’t bring me after you. I’m a fan of candor, so I’m gonna call a spade a spade here. You were weak.”

  His busted jaw flexed indignantly at that declaration. His bloodied nostrils flared angrily, but he remained silent.

  “Do you agree that what you did was a cop out?” She demanded.

  He ground his teeth as he took it into consideration, finally closing his eyes and nodding his agreement.

  “Good. And hey, if you want to talk shit about either one of us then more power to you. I’m an American girl, after all, so I totally support freedom of speech. Right on, brother. You go ahead and speak your mind with your bad self,” she said sarcastically, holding up her fist in a dramatic showing of mock support. Once she continued, however, all traces of amusement had left her tone. “But you will at least respect me enough to say it in English and give me the opportunity to break your face, is that clear?” She snarled, her eyes going yellow as she glared at him.

  He took a deep breath and nodded again.

  “Excellent. Now, Taran,” she began and shook her head at the sight of him in that moment.

  Damned if he doesn’t somehow manage to make bloodied-and-beaten look hotter than bull-fuck, she mused.

  He stared at her in disbelief, tensing up as if trying his best to hold back his temper.

  All of the other men, Drostan included, were suddenly watching her anxiously.

  He was her mate – she could not reprimand him publicly. It would be as effective as castrating him.

  She smiled knowingly. “Nice moves,” she commended.

  With those two little words, everyone relaxed.

  “Next time, though, do you think you could inform me that someone has given me a reason to kick their ass before hauling off and doing it alone?” She asked with a smirk.

  “Nah a problem,” he agreed and sighed in relief that she had not broken a cardinal rule amongst the clan.

  “Fantastic. And Ciaran?” She said, smiling when he instantly froze.

  He did not move a muscle. His tongue paused in its efforts to lick the blood from his knuckles. His hand remained suspended in the air in front of his face. She tried not to laugh at the astonished look in his eyes. He obviously believed he was about to catch a raft of shit. His expression very clearly stated: ‘Me? But what the hell did I do?’

  “I might not speak your language, but from what I saw, you only got involved on mine and Taran’s behalf. So, for that, I thank you,” she told him with a wink that promised sweaty rewards for his good behavior.

  He waggled his eyebrows before giving her a beaming grin in response.

  “All right,” she sighed and clapped her hands together as she looked around the mob. “Everyone is still pretty much in one piece, we have a ‘Call’ to make as I’m told, and plenty of time to talk along the way. Let’s get rolling,” she said, motioning for them to move.

  38: The Call

  Skye shook her head as every one of the men followed her command.

  “Same old little blue,” Elijah teased with a smile as he walked by.

  “D’ya know how devastatingly hot ya are when ya get all bossy like tha?” Ciaran whispered in her ear, surprising her at first by sneaking up on her, but making her grin as he continued. “I’m having visions of leather and whips and such,” he confessed before pulling away and speaking seriously. “Well done, taking charge like tha. Ya do us proud,” he offered sincerely.

  She smiled when he kissed her cheek before falling in behind her.

  “Come here, Rocky,” she laughed, putting an arm around Taran. She smirked the confusion on his face for yet another movie reference that he had not understood. “So, back to what was being said before you guys decided to go all Golden Gloves on me. I didn’t mention the whispers to anybody before, just so that’s clear. I talked about my little mind-movies, but I didn’t realize it was a huge deal that the soundtrack contained Gaelic whispers. And Drostan, if you had ever once informed me that this stuff might be so damned important, I would have happily been grilling you about it all this time. With everyone around here being so concerned that discussions with me might touch on ‘secrets’, I’m pretty much on my own. Seems like the ‘failure’ is pretty widespread, don’t you think?”

  He sighed and arched a brow at her, finally exchanging smirks with Taran and answering through his clenched and busted jaw, “Aye, sister. It does look tha way.”

  “Well, well, well – we’re all smiles and sunshine again, are we?” She asked as she looked back and for the between the men who had been ready to kill one another a moment earlier. “Man, did I join up with the right team or what? I used to get suspended for this kinda shit every other week in school. Anyway, about the creepy whispers,” she continued with a wince. “They’ve been coming kind of like... an impending vision alert system, if that mak
es any sense.”

  “It does,” Drostan agreed with a nod.

  “I figured whatever they were saying had to do with the stuff I saw right afterward, so I didn’t worry too much about not understanding it,” she explained. “When my mind gave me the little round of show-and-tell that left me sprawled out on the floor and twitching yesterday, it started off with the whispering. After screaming in my head that I didn’t understand, wham! Vision-Fest hit. Everything it used to speak to me after that were bits of conversations that have already, or – I’m assuming – will soon take place. Kinda like... it couldn’t speak to me directly, so it used those other voices to relay the message. What do you think? Were they talking about what they showed me?”

  “Seems likely,” he agreed as he massaged his wounded face. “Next time, if I’m in the area, get my attention for it and I’ll translate.”

  She arched a brow. “Ya know, I’m not sure just how much these guys told you about me ‘having the sight’, but I wasn’t really in any shape to carry a conversation.”

  “I know, believe me,” he sighed with a smile. “Where d’ya think they learned to hold ya down like tha? I’ve given them quite a bit of practice over the years.”

  Skye’s eyes widened in surprise and he laughed.

  “Tha’s right,” he assured. “You’re nah the only one who’s awoken to find themselves ‘sprawled and twitching’. Nah much fun, is it? But if I’m there, I’ll be able to hear the whispers as well. Ya will nah have to speak.”

  “You get them, too? Do I have them because you were the one to give me the bite?” She asked curiously.

  “Uh...” Drostan began in uncertainty and gave his brothers a pleading look.

  “Perhaps tha has something to do with it,” Taran offered.

  It was not a lie, after all. For all he knew, that had been a contributing factor.

  “What the bloody hell happened in here?” Latharn called from the front door as they entered the main hall.

  All of them spun to face him guiltily.

  “Ooh... you guys are gonna get it!” Miko teased once he caught up with them.

  “This whole place is thick with the scent of a brawl!” Latharn yelled up the stairs. “And holy Chreest, Drostan – what the devil did ya do to Skye to make her rearrange your face like tha?”

  Drostan smirked and shook his head. “Nah, this one was nah Skye. It was a team effort on the part of her men.”

  “Well, did ya deserve it, at least?” Latharn asked, placing his hands on his hips and smiling at the sight of the three bloodied brothers. Seemed they were getting on just like old times, able to go from laughing to fighting and back again effortlessly.

  “Yeah, I did,” Drostan laughed.

  “Then good job, lads,” Latharn said, nodding in approval to Ciaran and Taran. “Now, get a move on! We’re cutting it awful close,” he urged with wide eyes.

  “What exactly does a ‘Call’ entail, anyway?” Skye asked as they joined the thousands of others walking out across the lawn.

  “You’re soon to find out just tha,” Latharn told her with a smile. “As we’re requesting the Gathering due to your arrival, you’ll be standing beside me and Drostan while we make it.”

  “And I guess that’s my cue to go upstairs and stare at the ceiling for a few hours, huh?” Miko sighed.

  Latharn squinted over at him appraisingly. “Ya know, I think it’d be all right for ya to tag along, just this once,” he said and winked at Skye discretely. He was going to allow this due to the words of her wolf. As Miko was her future pup, he could attend. “Of course, ya should know in advance tha if ya ever breathe a word to the stake-wielders aboot what ya see here tonight, I’ll have no choice but to eat ya.”

  Miko grinned at the fact that he was finally being included in the group that he had been obsessed with for so many years. He shook his head. “Nope, that won’t be necessary. I won’t say a word, promise.”

  They made their way to the forest’s edge and Skye looked around in confusion when, all at once, the other men came to an abrupt halt. She realized in surprise that the mob had formed a crescent shape with practiced ease. Its mouth was facing the woods. Latharn stopped within its center with her and Drostan at his back. She frowned, looking out at the trees in front of them and not understanding what made this spot so special. It looked exactly the same as every other point of entry into the dark, scary, forbidden forest of forbidden-ness.

  Latharn took a few steps forward and bent down to the ground. At first, she thought he was kneeling and rolled her eyes, swearing that there was no way in hell that she was going to bow to a tree. Upon closer inspection, though, she noted that he was clearing the grass and earth away from something. A stone, perhaps a marker of some kind, just about four feet wide was slowly revealed by his efforts. Into its surface a symbol had been carved. It was the same as the current shape of the crowd – a crescent with a small star at its center.

  “Ready, lass?” Latharn asked as he stood.

  She nodded while thinking sarcastically, sure, what the hell? Why not? Let’s live on the edge. I think I’ve adequately prepared myself to stand around and stare at the rock in the grass with you all.

  She tried her best not to shake her head at how stupid this looked. When he began chanting in Gaelic, she had to cover her eyes and hold her face in an effort to stay quiet.

  Oh, even better, she thought, let’s talk to the rock in the grass now.

  This was a direct result of leaving a group of men to their own devices with no cable and no women to give them anything productive to do with their time, she decided. Entertainment would be found in some way, shape or form. Who knew? Maybe talking to rocks was the ancient equivalent of watching ESPN.

  Her amusement at their expense was cut short when Latharn rolled up his sleeve... and she spotted a brand on his wrist. She turned to Drostan in confusion.

  Okay, hold the frigging phone here, she thought. Tattoos, scarring, brands, and all other unnaturally-occurring markings are supposed to disappear after the change. So, how come the ancient one Latharn is rocking is still intact?

  She somehow knew this marking had not been reapplied. It looked to be a part of him, like a birthmark or mole.

  Drostan merely smiled at the unspoken questions in her eyes and motioned for her to keep watching.

  Thanks, you’re a big frigging help, she thought glumly as she returned her attention to Latharn. But her heart leapt into her throat when she focused on him.

  White light...

  It was now emanating from the symbol on his wrist.

  Her breathing grew ragged. Her pulse pounded in her ears as she took an instinctive step away from it. Fear swept over her. A memory was forming at the tip of her mind demanding her attention.

  White light...

  Her eyes rolled back inside her head as the memory drew her in.

  She was walking through the burning mansion...

  Screams and wails of agony could be heard in all directions...

  She was passing a window now...

  She was turning toward her reflection...

  She was too afraid to let it go on any further than that and cried out, jarring herself from the short lived vision. With a gasp, she returned to reality, looking up and finding that Drostan was steadying her.

  His eyes were burning into hers intensely, searching for something...

  She shook her head once she realized what he wanted to know. He was on whisper patrol, she recalled, checking to see if anything needed translation. Sensing their worried eyes on her, she waved to Ciaran and Taran that she was all right. They nodded, though it still looked as if it was taking all of their will-power not to rush to her.

  It took a moment to get her body to stop trembling. In that time, she tried to convince herself that Latharn’s glowing tattoo was just some kind of nifty, ancient flashlight. Yeah, that was it – just a trick accomplished by smushing up weird lightening bugs that gave off white light instead of green (which, of
course, she had never heard of because they must be native to Scotland) and using the rare bug guts as ink.

  Unfortunately, she was entirely too sober to believe that.

  She had just gotten her sea legs back from her latest vision-seizure and started to step away from Drostan when the ground beneath her feet began to quake violently.

  Mayday, mayday! Danger, Will Robinson! Danger! This is not a drill and that is most definitely not a flashlight! Assume crash positions! We have earthquake causing, glow-in-the-dark tattoos! The shit has officially hit the proverbial fan!

  Her eyes grew wide. Her grip on Drostan’s forearm undoubtedly added more broken bones to his body’s ‘to-heal’ list. The light from Latharn’s marking grew brighter and he held out his arm, allowing it to shine upon the stone.

  Oh, why couldn’t it have just been a pet rock? She whined in her mind. Why couldn’t it have been something simple that I could tease them for?

  But the pet rock was now... growing?

  Well, not so much growing as... rising?

  Her head tilted to the side, her lip curled in complete and total bafflement as the stone slowly began working its way up out of the ground.

  Nope, definitely not a marker, she decided. In the span of a minute, its height demanded a new description. It was ascending its way right into the category of ‘column’. There were no tool marks to be found on its surface. Its shape was seemingly a natural occurrence. After the first ten feet had cleared the ground, she noted a hole carved out of its center with the repeating crescent symbol etched above it. The rock finally stilled, now standing nearly fifteen feet tall. The opening at its center was aligned perfectly with the height of Latharn’s elbow, as if it had been made for him.

  “What is it tha ya need, young Skye?” Latharn asked.

  She looked up at him in confusion.

  “What is the thing ya seek here?” He urged.

  “Answers,” she told him.