When Darkness Falls - Six Paranormal Novels in One Boxed Set

by Shalini Boland

  Marcus would be returning to burn an answer out of me. Quickly I worked to free my other hand, certain I couldn’t take any more. I had to at least fight back, at least try to stop him.

  As the rope fell away, I eased to my feet. Clothing, seared straight through in parts and stuck to the pus of my wounds in others, pulled away from my skin as I moved. I gritted my teeth to keep silent, but a pained hiss still escaped.

  Damn it.

  I tried the door first, not that I was expecting it to fly right open for me. And it didn’t. I turned around and surveyed the room. The word ‘disgusting’ summed up the cell pretty well. I began feeling around the walls for some kind of special stone like what Ivory had used at Club Flesh or what Adrian had used outside the Maltorim’s walls. No luck there.

  I leaned against the back wall, pulling in some slow breaths as I attempted to slow my heart rate and clear my mind. That didn’t work out so great either.

  As I pushed away from the wall, something shifted, and I nearly lost my balance. I looked back at the wall only to see a small crack between the stones. It’d slid open.

  I pushed again, but it budged only enough to show some kind of latch holding the passageway shut. I didn’t have time for this. I grabbed the chair I’d been bound to only moments before and jammed one of the legs in the opening, then thrust the chair sideways. The sliding door budged a little more. The latch had ripped out of the crumbling concrete, but the top portion still held fast.

  When I rammed the chair again, the latch broke off completely and the door slid open enough for me to squeeze my way out. I had limped halfway down the hall when a hand clasped over my mouth. My eyes went wide.

  “Quiet, now,” said a female voice. Though her voice was soft and warm, I remained guarded and unsure. “We don’t have time for your efforts. Ye must get out of ‘ere immediately, and I’ll see to it. But please, keep quiet.”

  Everything about this woman was petite except for her large, ice-blue eyes. Black hair swept down to the middle of her back, and she smelled of rain and strawberries. She looked no older than sixteen, freckles spotted over the bridge of her nose and fronts of her cheekbones. But her voice sounded older, matured, and from another time and place entirely.

  “We’ve little time. Can ye walk?”

  “I . . . think so.” The words scraped my throat.

  The young woman draped my arm over her shoulder and led me to a dark closet down the hall. She bit into her wrist and held it to my mouth.

  “Drink.”

  The warmth of her blood surprised me. She didn’t seem to be in any pain as I fed from her, but she must have been a Cruor, because my pain quickly ebbed. There was some kind of marking on her neck, peeking out from the collar of her dress top. A tattoo?

  “We’ve been waiting for ye,” she said. She handed me clothes. “Change quickly.”

  I peeled the old clothes off the rapidly healing burn wounds and hurriedly dressed. “Why are you helping me?”

  “The children will explain,” she said, already pushing me back into the hall. “Now, please, ‘urry.”

  The children?

  Blood and mucus seeped from the thick, rope-shaped valleys on my arms, chest, and shins, sticking against the otherwise soothing clean clothes. With each step, the wounds contracted.

  “What about—”

  “Shhh. Listen carefully. My name is Ophelia. Things are not as they seem; I am not truly aligned with the Maltorim. I was sent ‘ere for ye, many, many years ago. Things are amiss. Ye will fix that, but not today. For now, we must get ye away.”

  Ophelia? Hadn’t that been the name of the young woman Ivory had turned in exchange for the Ankou magic that would protect her from the sun?

  “You know Ivory?” I asked, though I was almost certain.

  Her brow furrowed. “Who?”

  “Lenore—her name was Lenore when you knew her,” I said, thinking to the memories I’d stolen from my once-friend.

  Ophelia nodded. “Now, please, we must move along.”

  She stopped short and slid open another section of wall, revealing Charles and Adrian. My heart fell, and I started to run toward Charles, but Ophelia grasped my shoulder, holding me back until the men stepped into the hallway.

  “You’re alive,” Charles said, his voice barely a whisper.

  Adrian closed the cell’s back entrance. When Ophelia released me, I ran to Charles and hugged him, sinking into his arms.

  “You shouldn’t have come,” he murmured against my hair. “Are you all right?”

  I nodded, but I didn’t know if or when I’d be right again. I just wanted to go home.

  He held me at arm’s length, his dark eyes brimming with regret. “We need to leave.”

  I followed his gaze to the end of the passage, where Ophelia stood between two children, waving for us to follow.

  The children were almost identical, save for their opposing genders. Both were no older than six or seven, with the same black hair—the girl’s long, and the boy’s short—and the same pale skin. Their black button eyes fixated on me. I tried not to stare as we hurried to the Liettes’ cell.

  “Go without us,” Charles’ mom said when we arrived. “Protect the children.”

  Charles shook his head. “We didn’t go through all this to leave you two behind.”

  Henry dipped his head forward to look past his wife. “Son, listen to your mother. We’ll never make it—not now.”

  Charles stormed into the room and lifted Valeria. She looked even younger tonight, a tiny slip of a woman draped over her son’s arms. He glared at Adrian. “Are you going to help, or not?”

  Henry waved his hand, as if to ward off any help, and wobbled to his feet.

  Valeria’s darkly-tanned skin had paled, and her auburn hair had lost all its bounce and luster. Henry’s skin had turned sallow. Almost translucent.

  We wove through the passage until we reached a stairway leading up to a set of double doors.

  “I can guide ye no further,” Ophelia said. “There’ll be a car waiting outside the cemetery walls.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  Her ice-blue eyes locked on mine, a hopeful but uncertain smile touching her lips. “Your battle will not end ‘ere. Now, go on. Up the stairs wit’ ye.”

  She disappeared down another passage. Adrian and Henry opened the doors and Charles started up the stairs, his mom still in his arms.

  Each child took one of my hands. “It’s okay, Sophia,” they said.

  I wanted to shrink back at the sound of their voices, at the way they spoke together. How did they know my name? I couldn’t hear their thoughts—were they human? What were they doing here?

  Shoving my questions aside, I followed Charles up the stairs. No one knew which way to go once we stepped through those doors. Light from the passages faded behind us. The open doors at the top of the steps were an aperture for moonlight, and we stepped outside. Every direction looked the same, the cemetery’s borders nowhere in sight.

  Adrian turned to the group. “Follow me and be prepared. If Marcus shows, take him out first. He’ll disable Sophia otherwise.”

  Charles set Valeria down. Dead leaves crunched underfoot, the sound unrealistically loud in my ears. Thoughts from different members of the Maltorim mingled with my own. They were close. Watching us. Marcus must have been too far away to overpower my abilities.

  I scanned the area for a weapon—something to use other than my mind. A thick branch rested against a headstone a few feet away. Lifting my arm, I visualized the branch floating toward me. It flew from the ground into my grasp.

  Circe stepped from the shadows with another young, lanky Cruor at her side. I could just make him out in the limited light: Charles’ friend, Adonis. We’d met on Samhain. He and Circe stood at the forefront of the rest of their group.

  My adrenaline kicked into high gear, and the branch shook in my grasp. Charles, his back to mine, reached behind himself and touched my wrist, stilling my trembles.
The Liettes took a protective stance in front of the children, and Adrian stood to the side.

  Circe laughed. “A stick?”

  As she spoke, her mind pushed on mine, sending the usual tingle, but I was already in her thoughts, blocking her effort. I picked up on enough to know we wouldn’t get far if we ran. Circe and her cronies weren’t the only Cruor after us. We had to face them.

  Charles eyed Adonis warily. “You’re part of this?”

  Charles’ mind sped through thoughts so quickly I couldn’t keep up. I severed the connection and focused on Adonis.

  What if they’re wrong? Charles can’t be a . . . I can’t kill him. What do I do? The girl—his gaze snapped to me—this is all her fault.

  “You don’t have to do this,” I said to him.

  Adonis growled. “Don’t talk to me.”

  “Charles saved you, didn’t he?” I asked. “Your maker left you—he turned you and left you with no idea what to do. Charles took you in.”

  “Shut up!”

  Circe stepped forward. “Enough! Adonis, the Maltorim will kill us if we don’t return them. That is all you need to know.” She softened her expression and locked her eyes on me. Realizing her efforts to influence me had no effect, she grinned. “And you—special, special. They promised you to me.”

  More Cruor swarmed near. My grip tightened around the branch. They didn’t want to kill us—we were worth more alive—but they would if they had to. As far as they were concerned, we were better off dead than out in the world.

  Adonis remained a few steps back. “I’m sorry, Charles. This is law.”

  I snapped the branch in half. The ends were jagged and the branch strong enough to impale the undead. Though I never took my eyes off Circe, I turned my head to Charles and whispered, “You need to shift.”

  “Be careful, Sophia.” He took half of the broken branch from my hand. His body trembled, and I bolted to Adrian’s side. The ground shook. Circe and Adonis paused, unable to pull their gazes from the transformation. Charles’ skin grayed and his form grew.

  Circe lunged forward, casting me a hot, fevered stare. Hatred emanated from her mind and sent a jolt of anger through me, singeing the corners of my control.

  “Back off!” I threw my arms out, sending Adonis and Circe stumbling back.

  She tumbled to the ground, but before I could repeat my defense, she was standing again. An unnatural grin stretched her face. “Nice try.”

  Charles’ tremors turned into loud pops, his transformation nearly complete. I struggled to hold Adonis back by pushing with my mind but only succeeded in slowing his pace.

  Circe’s fangs snapped down, and I staked the branch through her heart. It sunk into her chest cavity as though I had plunged into loose clay. I tugged the branch out, and she staggered back. She coughed up thick, black blood. Black veins branched across her skin.

  She bit her own wrist and frantically smeared her blood over the wound to no avail. Circe crumbled to the ground, gasping for breath and digging her nails into the soil, until finally her breath sputtered and she fell forward. Her body slowly decomposed. No burst of ash. She’d been a newborn—less than a century old. No wonder she’d been Thalia’s pet.

  Through the spaces in the crowd, I made out Thalia and Callista as they emerged from the steps leading out from beneath the mausoleum. They prowled away from the building, closer to the action. Thalia, wanting to appear strong to the Queen, suppressed the hurt of losing one of her own. Callista pointed and yelled to other Cruor, commanding them to assist the attack.

  The sudden chaos threw Adonis off. He strode forward, radiating anguish.

  “Away! Away!” I said, holding my hands toward him. Nothing happened. My body trembled and a wave of nausea washed over me. Marcus was near. He was disabling my abilities.

  Adrian blocked Adonis’ path. Before Adonis could reach us, something slammed into him. The force of the impact jolted his body forward, his neck snapping instantly. A wooden horn impaled his heart, the tip protruding from his chest and shoving his ribs apart.

  I wobbled back, staring at Adonis’ dangling boots. Charles had taken the form of a rhinoceros. He’d infused with the branch when he was shifting. Was that another skill the dual-breeds possessed, or were all Strigoi capable of such things?

  He lowered the body to the ground and pressed his hoof on Adonis’ leg, crushing the kid into place while he pulled his horn free. Adonis’ torso ripped in half and his body rapidly decayed.

  Taking in deep gulps of air, I looked up to see Charles: a powerful rhinoceros with a wooden horn, emerald green eyes, and silver-brown, leather-like skin covered in blood. Instinctively, I leaned back, but guilt dug at my heart when I saw the hurt in Charles’ eyes.

  “Silly, silly girl.” Thalia stepped out from the pack, her pale skin glowing in the moonlight. Behind her stood two men, nearly seven foot tall each, their skin hinting at sheens of gold in the moonlight and large, translucent, veined wings stretching out behind them, almost as tall as the men themselves.

  The Ankou, I presumed, though somehow I hadn’t expected them to appear as abnormally large fae. I’d only seen them blur by when they killed the Morts outside Charles’ house. They were unnaturally beautiful.

  Callista strode past Thalia, leaving her behind like an afterthought. “This has gone far enough,” she said, her face unreadable. “Join us or die. We are done playing games.”

  No sooner had she spoke then the Ankou were at my side, towering over me, seeming as though they would need no supernatural ability at all to squash me. Their size alone would suffice. Yet I was too stunned by their perfection to see them as a real threat. Instead, my fear remained with what Callista might do next.

  Swallowing hard, I lifted my chin and boldly met her gaze, gathering as much energy as possible from the electric current that ran beneath the earth’s surface. “I’d have to be dead to join you, idiot.”

  “Guess she’d rather be dinner,” Thalia said, her voice emotionless and chilling.

  I ducked away from the Ankou as Adrian and Henry sprung forward, tackling Thalia. I motioned for Valeria to run with the children, but she calmly stood her ground. Chills burrowed into my pores, prickling each hair follicle on my arms and the fine hairs of my neck and back.

  Deep lines creased Callista’s forehead, distorting her expression into something nearly inhuman. Animalistic.

  The transformation, a fleeting glimpse of cat-like features that half-deformed her face, faded as quickly as it occurred. Could it be . . . was she one of the cloaked figures I’d seen outside my window after my positive energy ritual?

  I shook the thought away and said nothing. Her comrades would not believe any accusation that their leader was a dual-breed, nor would it be right to encourage the execution of anyone based on those merits. Not even Callista.

  Callista’s hatred thrummed through her—hatred for the dual-breeds, herself included, and hatred for me that I’d given them my acceptance. An acceptance her father hadn’t shown when his wife’s true nature was revealed through her pregnancy with Callista. He never would have knowingly procreated with a dual-breed, especially not one who was part Strigoi.

  My twinge of sadness passed as more Cruor encircled us, Marcus at their lead. He was trying to disable me—I could sense it—but my blood was rushing through my veins, washing his efforts away. Had I somehow overcome his gift, or was he too preoccupied to focus on me?

  Charles, in his animal form, barreled at him. In the same instant, Callista knocked me to the ground. Wind rushed from my lungs, and I gasped for air.

  I drove my knee hard into Callista’s stomach, surprising us both with my strength. Callista howled and yanked my hair, struggling to get her face close enough to bite me. She didn’t have any intention of turning me—as a dual-breed, she’d never be able to turn me herself. She merely hoped to drain me to my death.

  With one foot, I rammed at her chest. I gained the advantage long enough to kick her several times in the face.
Pain shot through my ankle, but I kept kicking. Black blood oozed from her nose, and she tripped backward.

  I stared in disbelief. Was this part of being an elemental? Were even the mortal elementals capable of advanced strength and speed?

  I scrambled across the cemetery ground, my body heavy with exhaustion. I stumbled, and my jaw crashed into the soil. Dirt pressed against my lips, gritty on my tongue and teeth. I spat and lifted a wrist to wipe my mouth.

  It wasn’t long before I saw why the Ankou were present. They weren’t concerned with me. They were here for the aftermath. As each body fell to an ultimate demise, so there were the Ankou to collect the spirits, digging long, pointed fingernails into their skulls until the entities exploded into black particles.

  Or, perhaps, the Ankou were intended as a distraction. As I spaced out, wondering how the Ankou could be so flawless, one of the Cruor grabbed me. I clung to a gravestone, trying to kick him away, all the while making a mental note not to look at the Ankou ever again.

  Charles, now in human form and dressed only in someone else’s pants, appeared behind my captor. Though bleeding at the shoulder, he drove a stake through my attacker’s back, into the heart. The body of the ancient Cruor fell on top of me before shattering into a pile of dust. Vomit lurched up my esophagus, burning and bitter.

  Charles tossed me the stake. He didn’t say anything, just gave me an empty look. As another Cruor charged at him, he spun around to engage in combat.

  I stood and glanced around, nearly dizzy with confusion over where to look first. Behind me probably would have been my best bet. Something pushed against the back of my skull. A chill pressed into my neck, my back, my thighs, and my stomach lurched. I tried to turn, but my mind and body were shutting down. My vision went black.

  My heart went cold next. Another consciousness pressed against mine, but this was not the same as the voices I’d experienced before. These thoughts that weren’t my own wanted to drown my own.

  A sudden snap shook me at my core, and I tumbled forward. I spun around, and reality crashed into my core when I realized what had just been happening.