The Dark Light

by Walsh, Sara

  To my surprise, Sol stopped. He lowered his hands. “Come down from there, Mia,” he said. “I’ll explain. I promise.”

  “How will you explain this?” I yelled. Almost defeated, fighting back tears, I brandished the necklace tight in my fist. “You lied, Sol. You saw the light. You saw the man. I saw the map! Tell me who took Jay!”

  Sol’s eyes widened. “I promise I’ll tell you everything,” he said, rapidly. “Please. You have to come down from there.”

  I took another step away.

  “MIA, DON’T!”

  Something in Sol’s voice stopped me. He dashed up the Ridge. Every movement registered in my mind in slow motion. Shock covered his face, yet never once did he look at me. His gaze was fixed behind and beyond.

  Cautiously, I turned around.

  Light covered the Ridge. In the center, ribbons of color tumbled through a bright opening. The light widened and stretched. Still it grew—stronger and more vibrant than the night before. It spread to the trees and reached for the sky, a massive gemstone wall eclipsing the night.

  Mesmerized, my gaze fixed on the bright epicenter.

  “He’s in there,” I whispered.

  The threat of Sol forgotten, I saw Jay’s empty room, his computer idle on the desk, his clothes unworn in his closet. There were no more sounds of Jay and Stacey Ann clowning around in the yard. No more thump, thump of the basketball against the side of the house.

  The light covered everything. Was it Heaven? Was that where I’d find Jay?

  As if from a million miles away, I heard Sol yell my name. I didn’t care. All I wanted was Jay.

  Closing my eyes, I walked into the light.

  NINE

  The light vanished. The breeze lifted. Once again, I found myself facedown in the dirt. I must have blacked out. But then I remembered Sol on the Ridge and the fear in his eyes. He’d seen the lights too.

  Disoriented, I pushed myself onto my knees, but got no higher before a hand grabbed my arm. A sense of danger crashed over me and I prepared to scream. The hand on my arm covered my mouth, silencing me before I could shout.

  “Quiet! They’ll hear,” hissed Sol.

  With one hand still covering my mouth, his other gripped my arm so tightly it felt as if his fingers were pressing into the bone.

  Struck with terror, I couldn’t take my eyes off his face. He scanned the horizon. The scent of wood smoke drifted on the air.

  “Don’t make a sound,” he whispered.

  So this was it. Death. Sol didn’t have the sword, but he could easily have a gun or maybe a knife. I knew his secret: He was connected to Jay and those boys. There was nothing left for him to do but finish me off.

  I screwed my eyes shut and tried not to imagine what the end would feel like. A quick stab, a short burst of pain, and then over? Or maybe he’d do something worse—leave me here far from aid, slashed and torn, powerless to stop my life from seeping into the dirt. Somewhere in the blackness, a bell tolled like the death knells I’d read of in Gothic novels. I knew it rang for me.

  But the stab, the pain, the shot never came.

  “We have to move.”

  Stunned, I peeked open an eye. Sol’s hand remained over my mouth. He pulled my body against his chest. “Can you get up?” he asked, his face inches from mine. “Are you hurt?”

  Confusion replaced fear. Sol wasn’t trying to kill me. His eyes were wide, his body tense. He looked as scared as I was. And the way he was holding me . . . it was almost protective. He scanned the darkness, poised, alert. And then it struck me: What the hell was that bell? And if it didn’t ring for me, then why?

  My eyes tracked the path of his gaze. My mouth dropped open behind his hand.

  We were on the Ridge, or at least it looked like the Ridge. There were the same trees and the same grass. Water flowed behind us. But ahead, where the road once ran, the trees were more widely spaced than those that surrounded the Ridge. Distant lights hung between the trees. Unlike the lights that had taken Jay, these were orange beacons like lamplights suspended in darkness. Around them stood the silhouettes of squat buildings. The scent of smoke strengthened. The bell continued to toll.

  Panic surged as I struggled to make sense of my surroundings. There should be farmland and prairie all the way to Onaly! No buildings. No lights. Nothing.

  Mind in meltdown, I pushed away from Sol’s arms and tried to rise. Strength fled from my legs and I toppled back onto my butt.

  Sol grabbed me. He clamped his hand over my mouth again.

  “Mia, don’t!” he said. Slowly, gently, he turned my face to his. “I will let you go, but you can’t make a sound.”

  I stared into his eyes, clinging to his voice as if to a raft at sea. It was the only thing here that made sense.

  “Don’t speak,” he continued. “Don’t even think. We’re going to get up, and then we’re going to run.”

  Leaves rustled to our right. Sol’s gaze swept toward the sound. He squeezed my hand and sniffed the air like a dog on the scent of impending danger.

  “Now!”

  Though he almost tugged my arm from its socket, I didn’t let go of Sol’s hand. He wasn’t going to kill me—that much was obvious. Not yet, at least. Whatever was happening, I had only one mission: to stay on my feet.

  Vaulting rocks, we tore into the woods. A growl rose from behind. The sound came from deep within the chest of something best left unseen. Terrified, I ran hard. Another growl. This time from the left. A shriek carried through the night as if in answer to the guttural growl.

  Sol stopped. This time he pulled me down. “Wait.”

  Crouched in the undergrowth, I looked from tree to tree, every muscle in my body on alert. A town was now visible at the bottom of the hill. Empty, burned shells of houses and shanties made of wood and stone edged the settlement. It wasn’t Crownsville.

  “What is this place?” I whispered. “Sol?”

  I turned to face him, expecting no answer, simply needing to remind myself that I wasn’t alone. Something in Sol had changed. His shoulders were back and straight, his chin raised. The fear had fled from his eyes.

  “This is the other world,” he said. “The one you’re not meant to see.”

  * * *

  After clearing the woods, we sprinted a short distance to a metal shack on the edge of town, ducking into the shadows beneath its overhanging roof. Safely out of sight—of what, I still didn’t know—Sol surveyed our path.

  “It seems clear,” he said. “But we’re not there yet.”

  A long scream resonated across the town. Two more followed. Whatever shriek we’d heard in the woods, this was not it. This was human. I backed up against the shack. Sol must have seen the look in my eyes. He shook his head.

  “Mia . . .”

  Throat constricting, mouth dry, I whispered, “I won’t yell,” though the scream rang in my ears. “Who was that?”

  Sol sighed deeply, the sound laced with regret and despair. “Someone who got careless,” he said.

  The hut was cold against my back, but I couldn’t tell if that or the scream chilled me more. Or maybe it was the expression on Sol’s face. But as always with Sol, it didn’t last. No sooner were his feelings visible than he reined them back.

  “You take your chances in Bordertown at night,” he said.

  Bordertown? The border of what?

  I watched as he crept from the shadows and checked the road ahead. Finally, I understood.

  “You know this place,” I whispered.

  The bell rang, followed by another scream. But I saw and heard only Sol. He turned his head to his shoulder, his strong profile lit by the faint orange lights of the town.

  “It’s where I come from.”

  His words lingered, echoing through my mind as if I heard them from the bottom of a deep, deep well. This was a dream. It had to be. Sol was the new guy at Crownsville High. He’d moved to Crownsville for a fresh start or to get away from trouble like Kieran had said. He couldn’t have c
ome from here; there wasn’t any place on the Ridge for him to have come from. But the map. The sword . . .

  I went to his side. It was as if we were meeting for the very first time. Everything I thought I knew about Sol collapsed, but now his silence and secrets made sense.

  “We’ll cut between those houses,” he said, pointing to the right. “Don’t stop for anything. Just believe me. We’re in danger.”

  We kept to the muddy alleys, passing building after building each different from its neighbor. The farther we ran into town, the more houses appeared. But not homes like in Crownsville or Omaha. These were tightly packed, smaller, some of stone, some of wood, most patched with sheets of metal or nail-ridden planks where chunks of plaster had fallen.

  Streets twisted and turned until I was hopelessly lost. Cobblestones paved one street, then the next was dirt, straw, then stone again. There was no pattern, no consistency, but the tolling bell, and the occasional light from a shuttered window.

  We ducked down another alley, far from the Ridge. It smelled of bread, earth, and something sweet, like long-ripened fruit. A low-lying mist hung over the ground. It thickened at the head of the alley.

  Sol raised his hand . Wait!

  Through the mist, I caught movement near the ground, by where the alley opened onto the street. Limbs appeared and something scurried away. I grabbed Sol’s arm as he crept closer still. “Are you crazy?”

  There were more tap-taps of claws against stone. Whatever had been growling before in the woods was there lurking in the mist, I knew it. For the first time in my life, I wished I had Pete’s shotgun. A chirrup, like a chipmunk or water rat, echoed and the creature appeared.

  It was a child, or seemed that way, maybe five or six years old, but much, much smaller, and scurrying on all fours, its butt up in the air. Huge round eyes skittishly peered our way. Its neck was long and swayed side to side. At the end of each finger grew a thick claw, which it tapped against the stone. It chirruped again, spun one-eighty, then scampered off into the streets, flicking a long, hairless tail before disappearing into the mist.

  Sol let out a deep breath. “It’s just a gutterscamp,” he said. “They feed on the trash after nightfall. Come on, we need to move.”

  I stared into the space where the creature had been, as stunned as if I’d watched a plane fall from the sky. Everything I’d seen and heard collided in a jumble of images and sounds. I sank to my knees.

  Sol dashed to my side. “Mia,” he said, his expression earnest. “You have to get up. Now. You’re coming with me, whether on your own feet or over my shoulder. Your choice.”

  It didn’t seem like much of a choice, but what other did I have?

  The labyrinth seemed endless. I was about to ask how much farther, when we stopped in front of a door on a narrow, cobbled street. Sol knocked. Long moments passed as we waited. Freaked to the point of hysteria, and convinced that whatever followed us was only steps away, I was about to bang on the door myself when footsteps shuffled inside.

  “It’s late,” barked a man’s voice. “What do you want?”

  Sol leaned against the wood. He whispered words I couldn’t make out, or maybe words I simply didn’t know. Finally the door opened. Without word, Sol ushered me into a long, narrow room with a table and benches in the center. To the left, two straight-backed armchairs faced a stone fireplace.

  The man hurried away, disappearing through a doorway at the rear of the room that stood beside a wooden staircase. Footsteps sounded overhead. I looked to the stairs. No one came down.

  Though we were safely inside, Sol remained at the door. He pressed his ear to the wood and gestured for me to remain silent.

  “Were we followed?” I whispered.

  “I’m not sure.”

  I backed away, determined to hold myself together and not imagine what might be prowling the streets. It wasn’t easy. Here in this room, this world suddenly felt far too real.

  The man who’d let us in returned, brushing past me as he made his way to Sol. He was older, maybe Sheriff Burkett’s age, but shorter, and wore baggy brown pants and a long linen shirt. His hand clasped a sword, which he offered to Sol.

  Sol took the weapon without question. I followed the sweep of the blade down to the tip, which despite Sol’s height, almost grazed the stone floor. “I think we’re safe,” he said. “We got lucky.”

  Lucky? I didn’t feel lucky at all. Lucky was when you got called first for debate and didn’t have to wait the entire class for your turn. Lucky was when Rich Manning’s mom was in town and he missed a night of drinking at Mickey’s. But this? Lucky?

  “Why are you here?” the older man asked, his face sweaty and red. I noticed his teeth were widely spaced and filed into tiny, sharp points. “We saw the Barrier open.”

  Before Sol could reply, footsteps sounded overhead, and a guy bounded down the stairs. He appeared about Sol’s age, was of a similar build, and had dark hair, much darker than Sol’s, almost black. His clothes, a thick blue shirt and loose black pants, cast me back to Sol’s bedroom and the woven shirts I’d found in his trunk. He headed straight for Sol. Unnoticed, unwatched, I remained in my spot.

  “They passed by,” the guy said, without greeting. “Headed toward the square.”

  “How many?” asked Sol.

  “One sentinel. Two visage demons. But the alarm’s ringing; there’ll be more.”

  It was clear Sol knew this guy well. It was like Willie and me: no fuss or nonsense, just straight down to business.

  Sol placed the sword on the table. He slumped onto the bench closest to the door. “They must have seen the Barrier open,” he said.

  “It was hard to miss,” replied the guy. He shot me a questioning look. “Just about lit up the whole town.”

  “Then they already know.”

  If I’d dared, I would have asked whom he was talking about and what it was they now knew. But I pretty much knew the answer. Someone—they—knew I’d tumbled into a world I wasn’t meant to see. I was also pretty sure they wouldn’t care that it wasn’t my fault.

  “She opened the Barrier,” said Sol. All eyes turned on me. “They’ll want to find who did it. We have to get her back before they do.”

  The man with the pointed teeth watched me as if I were one of Rich Manning’s aliens. “That was no little opening,” he said. “That was an Equinox, or as close as you can get. How’d she do it?”

  Sol watched me in the same way that other two watched me. As if I were the strange one. “With solens,” he replied.

  “From where?” asked Pointy Teeth.

  Sol ran a hand across his mouth, all the time watching me closely. I couldn’t tell if he’d paused for impact or if he simply couldn’t decide how to answer.

  “It was the Solenetta,” he said.

  Pointy Teeth collapsed onto the bench. He continued to gape. Though I barely understood a word of what they’d discussed, I suddenly felt bare, dissected. I didn’t like it at all. My temper flared.

  “Tell me what’s going on,” I demanded.

  Silence.

  “Well?”

  Glances were exchanged. It was Sol who finally replied. “Your necklace,” he said.

  My necklace? I immediately glanced at my hand or, more specifically, at the hand that had held my necklace. I’d not given it a thought since the Ridge.

  “It’s gone,” I said.

  The previous silence had been ponderous. This was one was downright oppressive.

  Sol shifted in his seat. He leaned over the table, frowning deeply. “What do you mean ‘gone’?”

  I shrugged. “I had it in my hand. I must have dropped it.”

  Sol sprung to his feet, moving toward me with such speed that I instinctively backed away. “Check your pockets,” he said.

  “It’s not in my pockets.” I patted the front of my jeans and jacket to prove the point. “It was definitely in my hand. Why does it matter? It’s just a necklace.”

  Sol’s face looked like h
e’d just found his home burned to the ground. Shock. Disbelief. Fear. He turned for the door. “I have to go back.”

  The younger guy offered Sol the sword, “It’ll be crawling out there. You’ll never make it.”

  Sol paused at the door. “What choice do we have?” he asked. He placed a hand on the other guy’s shoulder. “If they find it, we’re finished.”

  * * *

  I don’t know how long I waited on that bench for Sol to return. Pointy Teeth disappeared upstairs not long after he left. It was just me and the other guy, like a pair of shy freshman thrust together in the cafeteria. It didn’t matter. I’d decided that none of this was real. Any minute I’d wake up on the Ridge. Unless I really was dead and this was Hell. I surveyed every inch of the walls and waited for the joke to wear off.

  On one of my many sweeps of the room, I caught the other guy’s glance. He offered his hand. “Delane,” he said.

  I guessed it was his name and shook back.

  “Mia Stone.” Then added, “From Crownsville.” If that even existed anymore.

  Delane nodded. With his black hair and blue eyes, he reminded me of someone. He was a really good-looking guy, tall and strong like Sol, definitely Willie’s type. I studied him closely, trying to put my finger on why he felt so familiar.

  “I’ve never seen Crownsville,” he said. “I’ve been stuck here since Solandun volunteered to go over.”

  Solandun?Confused, I shook my head. “You mean Sol?”

  “Yeah,” said Delane. “Welcome to the Other Side.”

  Whoever Delane was, he didn’t seem afflicted with the same reticence as Sol. He was open and friendly, his manner warm. If there was a chance for answers, it was now.

  “So what is this place?”

  “This place?” he asked. “It’s Rip’s house; he keeps it so we’ve got somewhere to—”

  “No,” I said, gesturing all around. “This place. This whole thing.”

  “Well . . .” He paused. His icy blue eyes narrowed and two deep lines appeared on his forehead. It was an expression I’d seen before, and I realized who he looked like. Those lines on his forehead were the same as when Pete was deep in thought. He was a young, friendly version of Pete.