Halloween had always been a strange holiday for me growing up. All my friends loved getting dressed up and going trick-or-treating, but I had always felt unsettled and itchy, sensing I was missing something. The younger I was, the more I remember being aware of the tingling force humming in and around my body; the older I got, the more I denied it. My mom had always pushed me to go out with my friends on Halloween. She rarely forced me to do anything, but she had purposely urged me toward normal, human activities. Now I knew why. She had known I felt the surge of our realms colliding and wanted to keep me from asking questions or figuring it out on my own. Maybe she was afraid I would start experiencing my powers. It was strange to think, during all those years, I had felt the energy of the world’s meshing, its power.
For so long I had hid in the shadows, afraid of why I felt so different. But now I wrapped myself in the darkness, finally knowing where I belonged.
“So when the walls come down, we can die more easily?"
“Yes, Fae become very susceptible during that time, except for the rulers of the Otherworld. Neither the Queen nor I follow the same rule. We do not die by the same means other Fae would. As ruler you have the extra luxury of knowing you are not so easily expendable.”
“Oh, that’s convenient,” I muttered derisively.
“That is the power of being the ruler,” Lars replied smugly. “There are more threats on us. Therefore, we cannot be as easy to kill.”
“Is it you or is it the position that offers this?”
“The position. If I was not the Unseelie King, I would be subject to the same means of death as you. Being a ruler does not make me indestructible, though, as the last Unseelie King found out.” His fingers skimmed along the bindings of the books. “The Queen is the same. Only one thing can kill her—a particular weapon.” His hand stopped on a section of books. He tugged at the binding of one and a short sector of book spines peeled away. To anyone who didn’t know better, they’d think they were normal books. But it was a shelf of fake books to cover up what was behind—a safe-like box. I stared at him, intrigued, waiting for him to resume.
“I presume you haven't heard of the four treasures of Tuatha Dé Danann. This book is the only one left of its kind, and it took me great pains to obtain it.” He took a key from his pocket and opened the safe, pulling a book thicker than Rimmon’s neck from the strongbox. Lars gently placed it on the table between us.
The book was bound in a soft thin leather, or what I assumed was leather. It was from the Otherworld so it could have been unicorn skin for all I knew. Gold calligraphy was etched deeply into the cover. It looked so ancient and aged I could hardly decipher the writing on it. It took a moment to realize it wouldn’t have mattered anyway since it was written in a language I didn’t understand. “What is it?” I stood to get a better look, my fingers reaching out to feel the edging of the book. Lars cringed but let me touch the soft leather. The moment the tips of my fingers connected with the buttery cover, energy zipped up my arm. Jerking my hand back, air slipped between my teeth. “What the hell?”
Lars smiled. “Our books are alive, taking and absorbing our knowledge. They can feel and experience people’s energies, especially a book this old. This one is wise enough to know if someone wants to use it for good or bad.”
“What do you want to use it for?” I looked up at him.
“Only a fool would be ignorant enough to think they could handle this book with an agenda.” Lars caressed the cover, smoothly opening it. “You respect a book like this. It will let you in, and confess all its secrets, if you are quiet enough.”
The lure to touch it again was too much. Giving in, I let my fingers glide over the pages. Its life-force pulsed in my hand, as if introducing itself to me. I let it read me. An eagerness and excitement pulsed off the pages the longer my skin stayed in contact with it. “That is really weird,” I laughed.
“I think it knows what you are. What you will be.”
I pulled back, my gaze leveling at Lars. “What do you mean?”
“Before I get into that, let me finish the history lesson.”
Knowing this wasn’t going to be a simple lecture, I sat back down.
He sat down across from me, continuing, “The Tuatha Dé Danann came to Ireland to be instructed in the magic arts, Druidry, knowledge, prophecy, and magic. They brought four magical items with them: The Cauldron of the Dagda, the Stone of Fal, the Spear of Lug, and the Sword of Nuada, also known as the Sword of Light.
“These magical items have been lost over time, and there has been a hunt for these treasures for centuries. Most Fae now believe the items are merely a legend, a story that has been passed down. It is quite similar to how humans continue to hunt for the Holy Grail.” He paused, watching me drink in the bits of knowledge he was giving me. I was always a history buff, but this was even more fascinating. “Except ours is not a story. These treasures exist.”
My eyebrows popped up. “And you know this because?”
“That is not important. But, there is no doubt they do exist, and you have a tie to one of these items.”
“I’m tied to one? How?”
Lars clasped his hands together. “If you would let me continue, I will explain. You need to learn about only one of these items now, which is the Sword of Nuada—the Sword of Light—Nuada’s Cainnel. This means a glowing, bright torch, and it is the most desired and by far the most powerful. The legend of the Sword of Light states no one has ever escaped from it once it has been drawn from its sheath and no one can resist its power.
“For centuries the Queen searched for the sword. She tracked it down, but when she sent her First Knight to acquire it, someone else had gotten to it. Aneira learned a Druid helped hide it, putting a concealing enchantment on it. Enraged and terrified, she killed and tortured hundreds, maybe thousands, of Druids to find who took it. When that did not work, she figured if all Druids died, the curse would end, so she annihilated the entire Druid race. The curse did not break.”
“Oh my God . . .” I trailed off. Kennedy. Is this what happened to Kennedy’s people? Why her real parents hid her from the Queen? Eli had told me a little of the tale, but getting the full story was much different. But how did this all tie to me?
“The Queen fears the sword and will not rest until it is found. She fears anything she cannot dominate.” Lars opened the book, carefully flipping through the pages. “Another, stronger reason exists for her fear of Daes and the Sword of Light.” He stopped, landing on the desired page. “A prophecy.”
“A prophecy?” Of course, there has to be a prophecy.
Lars turned the book towards me, pointing at a page. I leaned farther over the table to see it better although it was pointless since it was in a language not known on Earth. His finger skimmed down the page and he muttered to himself before he found what he was looking for.
“Here it is—
By one of the Light, Darkness will take its revenge.
A bloodline that cannot be repressed will rise to power.
A descendant will take the throne.
Blood will seek to kill you.
She who possesses the Sword of Light will have the power.”
“O-kay, what does it mean?”
“Well, as usual, prophecies can be interpreted in many ways. Only a few types of Fae exist that the Queen cannot dominate, but only one species is both Light and Dark—a Dae. Her fear of Daes was not simply because they could not be glamoured or controlled. Aneira is convinced a Dae will kill her with the Sword of Light and take the throne. Is this true? I do not know for sure. Prophecies are abstract and unclear on purpose. Either way, the Queen has found an excuse to kill your kind. I feel she has shaped the perceptions of Daes through propaganda and lies. If she got her people scared enough, they would start demanding the Daes be ‘taken care of.’ She then presents herself as a Queen who cares and protects her people by handling the danger.
“Only a select few know of the prophecy. I made sure I was on
e of those. It is my business to know what others are hiding.”
I had a feeling his business thrived off of blackmail, deceit, and shady dealings. “Okay, so she murders all the Daes because she is afraid of what she thinks the prophecy is telling her that she will be killed by a group she cannot control, which is both Light and Dark, wielding the Sword of Light, and they will take the throne. Did I miss anything?” I couldn’t deny it made sense why she was frightened of us.
Lars replied, “Remember, perception and truth are two different things.” Lars leaned in closer to me. “You, Ember, fit the prophecy more than you know. Aneira has been after you since your birth. Her need to take revenge will soon be outweighed by her fear and the desire to see you dead. Her lust for control has kept you alive—for now. I feel this will be coming to an end soon.”
He didn’t have to tell me that. I could feel my life had an expiration date. The only thing I wanted to accomplish was to see my family safe and the Queen dead before my death. That was enough.
Part Two
TWENTY
“Again, Ember.” Alki moved into the first stance, his sword raised and waited for me.
I gripped my hilt tighter, trying to lift it up. A small whimper escaped my lips. We had been training non-stop for the last three and a half hours, and there wasn’t an inch of me that didn’t burn in agony. Alki was relentless with my training. At the end of each session, I could barely move. On several occasions I actually fell face first into my dinner. One time it was soup. I swore I could smell beef broth for a week.
Even after months of training, it never got easier. Probably because he kept adding on different and harder challenges, switching between physical fighting and mental control, both extremely exhausting. I always thought I wanted to be practicing the other form, until I was.
“You think your enemy will wait for you to raise your sword?” When he hit mine, it flew out of my hands. “Come on. Again.”
“I need a break.” I bit my lip, suppressing overtired groans.
“No. No break.”
I picked up my sword and lunged at him. His sword clanged with mine as he blocked my move. I spun around, my sword slicing through the air as it headed for his side. He twisted, escaping my blade. We circled one another, parrying each other’s moves.
“Bend your knees; keep close contact with the ground. Only video games and dead fools flip and jump around. You are unable to switch direction quickly if you are up in the air. You must be ready to move and change course in a split second,” he reminded me as we moved around each other. “Be fully aware of your enemy and your surroundings. Death can come from anywhere at any time.”
I had heard the same spiel every day, but it was worth thinking about constantly. My awareness of my surroundings had magnified since these lessons began. It frightened me how unaware and vulnerable I had been before. Now I could never relax. I was so highly in tune it bordered on paranoia. I had, on a handful of instances, flipped Marguerite on her back when I thought someone was sneaking up. The older woman would get up, shake her head at me, tsk as if I had just left my socks on the floor, then continue on to wherever she was going. I adored her.
“Focus, Ember,” Alki yelled at me to get my attention as he lunged. I parried and riposted, our blades colliding. He encircled his blade around mine, twisting the sword out of my hand. The loud clang as it hit the floor erupted off the walls. I jumped back. My eyes never left him as I reached for my dagger in my boot, the one Eli gave me. I had cut a space between the leather and the lining to keep it safely tucked away and easy to grab.
Alki had taught me, early on in our training, never to be without a weapon of some kind. There were several times he had snuck up on me in the library or kitchen that had me so paranoid I slept and took a shower with it. Now it was like a piece of jewelry that I never took off. It felt naked without it.
Alki spun and lunged, almost prevailing, but I retreated in time, gripping the handle of my blade tighter. I spun to the side and carved my knife down to his legs. I tapped the blade against his calves, mimicking slicing the back of his legs to render them useless.
“Ha!” I victoriously yipped, but as he fell to his knees, he twisted, stabbing his blade towards me, my victorious celebration evaporating.
“Never count your enemy out until they’re dead.” He shook his head and got back up on his feet. “But better.”
“Wow, was that actually a compliment?” I gasped, trying to catch my breath.
“Compliments only soften you and will not help you survive.”
I groaned and flopped onto the ground, sweat dripping down my face. “Feeling good about myself would make me more confident, therefore, a better fighter.” He sent me a dubious look. “Do you ever relax? Do something because it’s fun?”
“Yes.”
“And what would that be?” I propped myself on my elbows, my eyebrow cocked.
“Ninjuitsu.”
I fell back with laughter. “That’s so sad.”
“I am a Demon, Ember, not human.”
“Most of the others here seem to have fun, you know, on their days off from eating children.”
“Not me.”
“Yeah, I gathered that.” I sighed and with great effort pushed myself off the ground, stuffing my dagger back into my boot. “We done?”
“Yes, for today.”
I gave Alki a bow of respect, picked up my fallen sword and stowed it in the chest, and I high-tailed it out of the room before he changed his mind.
The few stairs up to my room were extra torturous to my aching muscles this evening.
“Ember, there you are,” Rez's voice came from behind me. I turned to look over my shoulder. Her long, dark hair hung loosely around her stunning face as she stared up at me from the base of the stairs.
“I just finished training and was going to go soak my body in the tub until dinner.”
“Lars wants to speak with you now.”
“Rez . . .” I pleaded.
She looked at me debating, and then sighed. “Fine, I didn’t see you. But you’d better hurry before he hears you are back.”
“Thank you.” I pushed myself up the stairs, hobbling quickly to my room.
I locked the door behind me as soon as I entered and headed straight for the tub, stripping as I went, leaving a trail of clothes behind. I looked around as I waited for the tub to fill. I considered this my room, but nothing in it was really mine. That's what I liked about it. Nothing made me hurt, nothing invoked the memories I had locked away, and nothing here reminded me of my old life. It was blank and void of emotion—the way I wanted it.
It had been over five months since my arrival. And every day I spent submerged in training, reading old history books and texts of the Otherworld, finding out what little there was about Daes, and learning about my powers. Nothing of my old self survived the day in the forest when Ian was killed. I gave up drawing, writing, or doing anything creative, which used to give me joy. Joy had lost its meaning. I tried not to think about Mark or my friends locked away in the Otherworld. It only caused my volatile feelings and emotions to surface—emotions I did not want to feel. Every day that I didn’t go after them piled more guilt and frustration on me. The deal I made with Lars also kept me from being imprudent. The repercussions of breaking a contract with a Demon were probably too awful to think about. I didn't know how to get to my friends and Torin was being extremely elusive about helping me.
Instead, I buried my emotions and focused on learning about my powers—powers I once thought of as dark. Dark held a different meaning to me now. It was not good or bad, but simply a state of being—a neutral state only good or bad by your intent. The kind of focus I needed let little else in, like thoughts and emotions. I was usually too exhausted at the end of the night to think of anything more than sleep.
This night was not one of those. My mind couldn’t fight the thoughts. Stepping into the tub, my muscles melting in the hot water, I sighed, lay back and tried to
relax. The silence finally let my mind wander to a time when I was happy. When I had friends and family. The world and I had both changed so much.
It had been over six months since the ES, and Seattle was slowly rebuilding itself. About three months ago, the phone lines went back up and electricity returned to the area. Neither of the Fae compounds I had lived in had suffered from any of these outside problems. But, the Seattle area, and much of Washington would never be the same. The wounds had been too extensive not to leave huge, ugly scars. The death toll had been 5,673, a number embedded in my mind. I had to live with this every day. And those were only the bodies accounted for. There were many who were considered “missing.” The truth was their bodies had probably been burnt and might never be recovered.
Speculation about me—that no hospital even had reports of my birth—added fuel to the rumors. I had simply disappeared that fateful day in April, as well as Mark, stumping everyone. The paper had said records showed he had gotten off the plane in Portland from Japan; eyewitnesses spotted him getting into a taxi before vanishing without a trace.
The media had gone ballistic when the police found blood in my house and on the driveway. The coroner only added to the mystery when his reports came back stating the type of blood was unknown and wasn't even human blood. He was right. It was blood from me, Jared, and the Strighoul, Vek.
Newspapers and the Internet kept me apprised of my own disappearance, as well as my friends’ and Mark’s. I was suspected of murder. The fact Weiss had seen me running covered with blood was unquestionable proof of my guilt. Papers went crazy with the knowledge I was still alive and might be responsible for the disappearances. Weiss only encouraged these rumors. He accepted no other theory. It probably chafed him he had yet to find my friends' bodies. He couldn't lay the full charges at my door and have my picture splashed up on America’s Most Wanted list. I had no doubt I was on the wall in Olympia’s police station. Weiss would never be able to fulfill his dream. He would find no bodies. No proof. There was only one body to find, and the Dark Dweller’s land was well warded. The cops would never discover Ian’s remains.
Fire In The Darkness (Darkness Series #2) Page 20
