Darkness Brutal (The Dark Cycle Book 1)

by Rachel A. Marks

  “But beyond that it would be a feeling,” he continues, “something when you’re near her, like looking down from a high perch—almost disorienting. As her sibling you wouldn’t feel it, though, since you grew up together.”

  Kara releases a quick breath. “Oh, God. That’s what it was. I felt it when we picked her up that day. I just didn’t understand what it was. But it totally freaked me out.”

  “But what does all this even mean?” I ask.

  Sid shakes his head. “If she’s a Nephilim, she’s the child of an angel and a human woman. She wouldn’t necessarily be a creature of Darkness, but her allegiance would be questionable due to the unstable nature of their kind. But if she’s the child of a corporeal demon and a human, it would mean she’s marked as a tool of Darkness. She won’t be able to escape it. Eventually they will find her and take her from you, as is their right.”

  My body goes tense at the thought, and my sorrow and fear morph into rage. “No way.” There’s no way in hell I’m letting that happen. They’ll have to slice me to bits to get to her.

  Sid frowns. “Aidan, you have to understand—”

  “No.”

  No.

  This doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t.

  My mom thought I could protect Ava; she felt it. She saw this thing in me, whatever it is—this piece of me that’s connected to my father. It’ll save us. It has to.

  Eric’s club is an empty shell during the day. The only signs of life are several delivery trucks with men unloading crates. Kara drives around them and parks in the back lot.

  “This will only take a minute,” Sid says as he slides out of the car.

  “Wait!” I say, scrambling out of the backseat. “I’m coming.”

  “Aidan, it isn’t necessary.” He waves me off as he walks away. “I’ll get the scroll and bring it to you.” And then he disappears between the trucks.

  I want to chase after him, but I’m also unsure I can take any more surprises . . . any more knowledge. All the emotion and urgency of what happened on the beach, the possibilities of who—and what—Ava might be, have filled my mind since we left there. And my mom . . . I saw my mom.

  I hear the car door, and Kara’s beside me. “You okay?” she asks.

  I stare at a flock of birds gathering on a wire above.

  After a few minutes of watching them in silence, we spot Sid and Eric walking quickly across the parking lot to the larger warehouse in the back. Sid’s arms are waving frantically, like he’s reenacting the last five days.

  I want to go over there, to hear what Sid’s saying, know how much he’s lying, but Eric’s head turns and he catches my eye, sending a jolt of dread through me. The look on his face is pained, worried. And I know they’re talking about me.

  Then the two men go through the warehouse door, disappearing from view again.

  “We’ll figure this out, Aidan,” Kara says. She stands in front of me and reaches out.

  My skin pulses as her fingers graze my arm, but I barely feel myself respond through the panic in my head.

  “I know this is hard,” she says.

  “No. You don’t know.”

  She stares at me for a few seconds and then says, “I want to understand, Aidan. What can I do?”

  “Her birthday’s tomorrow,” I say. “There’s no more time to do anything.”

  “Her birthday?”

  “Every three years they come for Ava on her birthday. Year three, six, and nine, they came. She’ll be twelve tomorrow.” I look up at the bright blue sky. “That’s why I asked Sid for help. I was hoping to find a place where I could hide her, protect her until her birthday. But I feel like they’ll find us tomorrow anyway. It won’t matter how many wards I put around her. It’s inevitable.” The weight becomes almost unbearable as the words leave my mouth. The hope I had when this all started is slipping away like smoke through my fingers. Truthfully, it was never a real hope to begin with.

  Kara moves closer, her energy heating my skin. She pulls me to her, rising onto her toes and wrapping her arms around me in a tight squeeze as she buries her face in the crook of my neck. “It’s going to be okay, Aidan.”

  My hands respond, sliding up her back to her shoulders. The connection between us is a pulse, a steady urgency, warm and comforting. We stay like that for a long time, locked in, as if we’re both trying to hide. Seconds pass, minutes, and I’m so settled in the moment that when she moves I barely notice. Until her lips brush my neck, my jaw, turning comfort into something else, the pulse in my skin becoming a hum.

  My hands run down her back to her hips, and I press her closer as her palms slip under my shirt, her breath coming faster now. My head fills with a million thoughts I shouldn’t be thinking.

  I turn to find her lips with my own, and a voice breaks in, shattering the moment.

  “Well, well,” Sid says, sounding more pleased than when he left us.

  Kara and I pull apart, and the lack of her in my arms lets the ache back into my skin. She’s shaking a little, so I squeeze her hand before letting go. She gives me a tiny smile, but Eric and Sid are too close, and I don’t get a chance to say anything.

  Eric studies us as he approaches, his eyes moving first to my mark and then to Kara. How much has Sid told him?

  Sid pats Eric on the arm. “This man was kind enough to allow me a quick peek at the collection of scrolls I needed to see. I believe I found what I need.” He has a wooden box tucked under his arm.

  “No problem,” Eric says. “Just remember, if you break it, you buy it, my friend.”

  Sid smiles. “Yes, yes. We should be going then, so I can return them to you quickly.”

  He gets back into the Camaro, and Kara walks around to the driver’s side. I move to open the passenger door. Eric comes closer, like he wants to say something to me, so I pause. But all he does is look at me—at my mark. His gaze slides up my arm to my chest, and then he looks me straight in the eye. It unnerves me, his intensity. But I feel no emotion from him at all. I see it on his face: fierce concern.

  “Don’t forget your prayers, Aidan,” he whispers. And then he turns and walks toward the club, leaving me with the feeling I’ve just been handed some sort of warning.

  “Spit it out, Sid,” I say once Kara’s pulled the Camaro onto the main road. “What’s the deal?”

  “Yes, yes, I know,” Sid says, opening the box on his lap. “Answers, answers. You are very impatient.”

  Kara looks at Sid in the rearview mirror. “I’d appreciate knowing if the world’s coming to an end tomorrow myself.”

  “Perhaps I should’ve taken a few more minutes to get what I needed.” Sid tilts his head. “The two of you looked very comfortable together.”

  Kara’s cheeks turn pink.

  “You do realize that I could kick your ass and just take the damn scrolls, right?”

  He laughs and pulls out one of the rolls of paper, only about four or five inches wide. It looks like it’s made of papyrus, the surface striped with tiny ridges, hinting at a weave. His eyes scan the faded writing, and he begins to read aloud. “The six corners of Death’s realm—that would be Sheol—opened by any other means than blood is not passable. I believe that means blood is the way to open the doorway.” He scans down the page a little farther. “The gate is carved of bone and ash, stitched together with the sinew of . . . hmm . . . I’m not sure of this word here.” He frowns at the script and then looks up at me. “This is a grouping of scrolls from Chaldea that I read during my studies under your father, but it was never fully clear to me, this theology of the afterlife, soul chambers, and whatnot. Seems all very speculative. Still, it’s difficult for me to recall the language—some isn’t even in a human tongue, I don’t think.”

  “Can I see it?” I ask, holding out a hand.

  He hesitates but then passes it to me. “Be very care
ful. The paper is easily corrupted by oils.”

  I take the scroll and scan the script—looks like Chaldean and Assyrian mingled together. I find the section he was reading from: “the gate is carved of bone . . . It’s talking about the formation of the doorway, what it’s made of. Bone, ash, tendon, and the word you couldn’t read translates as wing. The bone is from a human, the ash is from a demon heart, and the sinew is from a seraph’s wing.” I begin reading aloud. “In all of these resides the key, of blood and dirt molded in earth and womb—this word is combining, or mixed, I think—combining into one form.” I look up from the page. “So the key is made of all these things: angel, demon, and human.”

  Sid takes another scroll out of the box and begins reading. Then he places it back in and takes out another. “This can’t be right.”

  “That’s what it says,” I say.

  “No, I mean why would this be happening now? The end of things isn’t meant to begin until much later. Hundreds of years from now. Even with your birth, the end of it all wasn’t until the next generation—” He stops speaking, and all the color washes out of his face.

  “Sid, what’s wrong?” Kara asks.

  “My gods . . . Aidan, I’m so sorry. My gods. It’s me.”

  “You? You’re the key?”

  “No, no, not the key. I’m the reason they’re using the key so soon.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I wasn’t supposed to stay!” He takes the scroll from me and puts it back into the box, shutting the lid. “I was meant to kill you and go back. But I stayed! Everything has a ripple effect. You being born, then your sister, then me staying. Even Kara. Now it’s all changing again. The prophecies, the predictions, none of the things I knew before I came here will be right.” He gives me a frantic look. “The demons have moved up their timetable. They’re a step ahead somehow. And they’ve gotten their hands on a key to the doorway of Sheol.”

  My pulse speeds up. “Someone who’s angel, demon, and human.”

  “Or someone they can make that way,” he whispers. “My gods . . . your sister.”

  I go still. “Ava. But she’s not all three.”

  “And you know this how? You know she’s possibly something other than human and that the demons have been after her since you can remember. But do you know what runs in her bloodstream? Your mother could be of mixed spirit herself! Most mediums have descended from the time when demons and angels walked the earth—she could likely have one or the other in her blood already. All the demons had to do was allow for her offspring to contain the missing piece.”

  My lungs feel like they’re full of cement.

  “We have to know if it’s really her,” Sid says. “A test or something. Somehow we have to find out.”

  But I can’t hear anymore. I see the pieces of the puzzle finally falling into place, the years of wondering why they want Ava, why they didn’t care about me. And why my mother made the deal to give her blood over in the first place. And I’m the only thing that can mess up the storyline. The only hope I have left to save her is what’s possible because of my father’s blood; the hope of this Fire Bringer. Whatever that means.

  And there’s only one way to awaken it.

  FORTY-ONE

  We pull up to the front of the house, and Sid gets out of the car, the box of scrolls tucked under his arm. He’s talking to himself as he shuts the door and heads for the side yard, muttering how mindless he’s been, not thinking of the ripples he’s made, not thinking of everything he’s set in motion. His cane taps the ground harder than normal as he opens the side gate and goes through the backyard to his shed. Maybe to read more of the scrolls, find more answers. It doesn’t matter.

  I take my seat belt off and start to open the passenger door, but Kara stops me with a hand on my arm. “Don’t give up, Aidan.”

  I look down at her fingers gripping my bicep and try to feel her energy, but for once I’m so numb I can only sense the wounds inside of me.

  She unbuckles her seat belt and slides across the bench, pressing herself into me. She touches my face and cradles my cheek in her palm. “You’re important, you have to believe that. There’s a way to save her, a way to save yourself. Just let it happen.” She kisses the corner of my mouth.

  My body goes tight, feeling the vibration of our connection as it sparks inside me, running over my skin in a surge. I know what she means, and I know she’s right, but . . . “Kara it’s not—”

  “Please.” Her thumb strokes my jaw, sending the charge down my neck. “Let me do this for you. For your sister. I want this.”

  My throat goes dry, and my body wars between desperation for her and the throbbing sorrow inside me. I don’t have the strength to lie. “I want it, too. But—”

  She slides her fingers over my lips, stopping my words. “No. Let me do this. It’s my choice.” And then she leans in, kissing me again, longer, sweeter. She pulls away before I can respond. “Tonight,” she whispers. “Come to me.”

  And then she slides across the seat and out the driver’s door.

  Tonight.

  If I go to her, it’s because I’m a selfish bastard. I want her to help me fix this, to awaken my power fully so I can stop everything, all of it, but I’d also be burying this pain in a night of pleasure. A night I’ve wanted since the moment I kissed her in that club. And I don’t care if it’s right or wrong.

  I slide from the car and walk toward the house, feeling defeated. I open the front door and walk into the entryway, stepping right into a puddle.

  Disoriented, I look down. The light from the setting sun behind me reflects across the puddle’s surface.

  Glittering red.

  My stomach rises. I follow the shape of the puddle, to where it smears into footprints—

  “Kara!” I yell, looking around, feet frozen. No one answers.

  Where is she?

  I step past the entryway and study the shadows. No one’s in the family room. No one’s in the kitchen.

  Bang!

  Something upstairs crashes against a wall. Shattering glass. A muffled scream.

  I move toward the noise and then freeze at the base of the staircase. Lester comes out from the bathroom at the top of the stairs, dragging a limp Kara across the wood floor, even though he shouldn’t be that strong. He lays her at the top of the landing. Beside a second form. There’s another body up there where Lester is arranging Kara. Red hair spills over the top step; an ivory hand is folded over a pale chest. Rebecca.

  “What happened?” I choke out, starting up the stairs. “What’s going on?”

  Lester arranges the two girls side by side. “I’m getting them ready for you.” And then he raises his head to look at me. And smiles.

  I stumble back, nearly losing my footing.

  His lips are thin, inhuman. The odd turn of his mouth twists his features, making them almost unrecognizable. This isn’t the same Lester I saw this morning. His eyes . . . even from here I can see that they’re hollow black holes.

  My God. That’s not Lester anymore. He’s possessed by a demon. A demon that can see me—apparently the amulet doesn’t work if the demon is looking through human eyes.

  “I’ve got everything arranged,” he says. “I think you’ll be very pleased.”

  I don’t have any breath to ask what he means. I look along the rest of the landing for Ava’s body, but I only see Kara and Rebecca.

  “Don’t worry, they’re still alive,” he continues. “I figured you’d want to say good-bye.”

  “Whose blood is that?” I ask, surprised my voice works at all. I point to the pool in the doorway.

  “I had to break the house’s seal somehow. You should know, Seer. Blood is the only way.”

  “Who?” I demand, not sure I want to know. There’s no trail of blood up the stairs, which gives me hope that it’s not from Kara or R
ebecca. But where’s Ava?

  “I wouldn’t waste a human on these measly spells. Especially since all the disposable characters of this play are conveniently on an errand that my current pubescent host sent them on”— he pats his chest—“foolishly trying to save them from me. But things being what they are, I couldn’t wait for them to return. So I used what I had on hand: a mediocre-grade cat. I’m doing the neighborhood a favor, really.”

  Cat blood. I’m relieved and horrified at the same time.

  I almost don’t ask the question in my head because of how much I dread the answer. “Where’s my sister?”

  Demon Lester’s features shift, like he’s hiding a fun secret. “Oh, that will all come clear soon. First I have to invite someone in so I can pay off my end of the deal. And you’re here just in time for the show.” He bows his head, takes in a deep breath, and then mumbles something in a demon tongue: Let Hunger enter here to claim your prize.

  Instantly the smell of sulfur billows into the air, strong enough to make me gag.

  “He’s anxious to finish his task,” Demon Lester says to me, pleased. “He was very helpful finding the child—your sister. And now I’ll repay him.”

  Ice stings at the back of my neck, and I turn.

  Rebecca’s demon appears, emerging from the puddle of blood behind me, its sigil forming on the surface of the pool as its large shape becomes clear.

  My whole body reacts. I want to run away, to attack, but I force myself to stand still. It can’t see me. Yet.

  Demon Lester continues, as if we’re just chatting, “This allows me to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak.” I turn back in time to see him pull a small kitchen knife from his waist and hold it over Rebecca’s chest. “Pun intended.” He laughs. It’s woven with other sounds: the snarling of a dog and the creaking of tree limbs.

  My eyes flick between the knife in Demon Lester’s fist and the demon in the doorway. My insides are warring, begging me to act. The daunting seven-foot-tall, leather-skinned creature moves forward. It passes me as it starts up the stairs. Walking toward Rebecca. Totally unaware of my presence.