Dark Reality 7-Book Boxed Set

by Jennifer and Christopher Martucci

  Chapter 13

  Arianna had spent the more than six hours of her school day feeling equal parts angry and unsettled. Each moment of the six hours had crept at a snail’s pace, making the stretch of time seem interminable. She’d felt like a ticking time bomb poised to explode at any second. But those who’d been deserving of her wrath had been strategically protected, always shielded by innocents, or George. That fact had generated frustration unlike any she’d ever experienced. She had not known what to do with it, how to channel it. Without a form of release, it had festered, gnawing and biting from the inside out like a parasite. All she’d wanted was for the day to end, yet it had dragged on mercilessly. She’d craned her neck to glimpse clocks on so many occasions during the day that she swore she’d pulled a muscle. But pulled muscles were the least of her problems. Catching sight of Scott and George, as well as the others, throughout the course of the day, seeing their nauseatingly smug faces and knowing that she would have to wait to unleash her fury had been her biggest problem.

  Now, as she paced her small living room and contemplated her expected attendance at Scott’s house, the school day seemed like a distant memory. She glanced out the sliding glass doors off the kitchen and saw that the sun had grudgingly relinquished its grip on the day. It peeked from the horizon line, just a sliver of waning gold, while breadths of pink and purple streaked the sky. Darkness was coming, and soon.

  Arianna ran a hand through her hair and blew out a long breath. Originally, she’d had no intention of going to Scott’s house. She’d planned to tell him to go to hell if he so much as questioned her the next day at school for not going. But she’d never been the type of person to run from tough situations. She’d always confronted them head-on. She would not hide from Scott and the others and she would not run. She would stay in Hallowed Hills. She’d been drawn there for a reason, and she was not leaving until she found out what that reason was. She began to question her decision to stay home. But could she really go? She wondered.

  Worry needled her brain. With George in place, she was vulnerable. They could kill her if they chose to. The only rebuttal to that worry was the fact that if they truly wanted her dead, they could have killed her last night at the party along with Sarah and the others. She could have easily been one of the alleged victims of Sarah’s bogus murder-spree. But she had not been. Perhaps they’d wanted something else from her. Either way, she would not know if she stayed home.

  Arianna pinched the bridge of her nose. Pressure had gathered in her forehead and around her eyes. Nothing about Scott and the others made sense, and she was growing more aggravated with every second that passed. Her hand dropped from her face and fell slack at her side, her fingertips prickling with the burning need for vengeance. She concentrated on a glass she’d placed in the sink, focusing all her energy at it and watched it shatter at her command. Delight tiptoed down her spine, and in that moment, she decided she was not going to waste any more time debating whether she would go. She stalked off toward her bedroom and began dressing.

  After she’d selected pieces from her wardrobe that represented her mood – a black sweater, black skinny jeans and her black motorcycle boots – Arianna was ready to leave. Scott had slid a piece of paper with his address under her windshield wiper earlier in the day and had scribbled ‘Be There at 6:30’ on it. His nerve at ordering her there, as if he held some kind of authority over her, had made her bristle when she’d read it. She bristled still as she double-checked the address before entering it into her GPS navigation system.

  The drive took less than twenty minutes and she’s smoked half a dozen cigarettes during the short trip. She’d needed to keep her lands busy for fear they would get her into trouble otherwise. When she pulled down a tree-lined lane in a middle-class neighborhood in town, she felt surprised. She did not know why, but she’d expected him to live on a more isolated street, one surrounded by darkened woods or a cemetery, one that looked as hostile as he truly was. Her imagination had him living where a monster in a horror movie would. But he did not. Instead, he lived on a cheery, well-lit street complete with cast-iron lampposts painted black, each crowned with a set of three globes. SUVs in varying colors and makes occupied well-maintained driveways that led to nearly identical Colonial-style houses. Her overall impression was that Scott hid in plain sight, a wolf nestled comfortably among a flock of well-to-do sheep smack in the middle of suburban heaven. The thought made her stomach churn.

  She was about to light yet another cigarette to combat the sudden nausea she was feeling when the voice coming from her GPS informed her that Scott’s house was ahead. Number twenty-seven on an absurdly upbeat named street called Merryville Road was the address he’d given her. With cream-colored siding, chocolate trim and landscaping that was impeccable, the house looked as if it had been built of gingerbread. Steep roof pitches were softened by the color of the material selected which matched the trim and looked like icing. All that was missing was a pair of candy canes on either side of the entrance and peppermint rounds below the first-story windows. The columns beneath the overhang at the front door sufficed as substitutes for the candy canes, and perfectly rounded shrubbery stood in for peppermint rounds.

  “Is this a joke?” Arianna muttered to herself as she parked her car at the curb. “The fucker lives in Candy Land.”

  Scott’s house looked as lovely and inviting as a house possibly could. Little did his neighbors know, he was a murderous supernatural being. She guessed he and his family neglected to share that tidbit of information at barbecues at soccer games.

  As she climbed out of her car and walked to the front door, she realized that her rusted Toyota stood out like a sore thumb among the newer, higher-end cars parked along the street. She chuckled to herself, imagining concerned neighbors peeking out from behind designer window treatments, wondering who’d have the audacity to park such an old, atrocious car in front of their house, hoping that no one thought it was their company doing it.

  She rang the bell and waited. What was next, she wondered, a white poodle and a little sister with pigtails twirling her baton in the foyer? But all idyllic images ended when Scott answered the door with a bottle of beer in his hand.

  “Ah Arianna,” he smiled, but his smile stopped short of his eyes. “Glad you could make it.”

  “Huh, that makes one of us,” she replied coldly. “Your parents let you drink?”

  “Did she just say parents?” Jess called from another room, her shrill voice echoing through the high ceilings. Her comment was followed by an uproar of laughter.

  “Guess I missed the punch line,” Arianna said and did not understand what all the laughter was about.

  “Oh, it’s the whole parent thing,” Scott said as if she would know just what he was referring to.

  She looked at him and tried her damnedest to invoke George’s dead-eyed expression. “And?” she said flatly.

  “Oh, right,” Scott said and smirked. “You don’t know anything. I forgot.” He took a long swig of his beer then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before continuing. “We don’t have parents, not that live here, at least.”

  “None of you?” she asked and could not mask her surprise.

  “Nope,” he said casually. “We all live here in this house without any parental supervision.”

  “You all live here, together?” she stated more than asked.

  “That’s right.”

  “How do you explain that to the school? I mean, haven’t they called child protective services or anything?”

  “We all have other addresses,” he said in a patronizing tone of voice. “Duh, we’d have to be idiots not to. And those of us whose parents still live nearby in town vouch for us.”

  Arianna arched a brow at him. “Really,” she said coolly.

  “They know what will happen to them if they don’t,” he said as an evil smile spread across his lips. He slid
his index finger across his throat in a slitting motion and Arianna felt her insides begin to simmer.

  “Oh wow, where are my manners?” he said and replaced his wicked smile with a warm expression that would have fooled anyone, except her. “Please, come in. Welcome to my home,” he stepped back and swept his arm to the side. As he did, ornate wall sconces that held unlit candles burned brightly at his order.

  “Nice,” she said ironically, unimpressed and unwilling to hide it.

  He walked in front of her, leading her to an open living room and dining-room area. Hardwood floors gleamed as if they’d been freshly polished and the walls, a warm shade of caramel, were offset by white moldings. More sconces holding candles adorned the walls and overstuffed couches had been situated around a large fireplace. Jess, Josh, Chris, Meg and George were there.

  “There’s our girl,” Meg said in a chipper voice.

  “Yeah, here I am,” Arianna replied dryly and locked eyes with George.

  In her mind, she imagined she was boring a hole in George’s oblong skull, drilling through to the other side. He, and only he, was the lone barrier between her and the others. His ability to suppress her powers was the one thing protecting all of them.

  She glowered at him with unrelenting intensity. To her delight, he shifted uncomfortably under the weight of her hateful stare. It was the first time she’d see him exhibit the slightest shred of humanity, of weakness. She was pleased. He lowered his eyes to his hands clasped in his lap and a part of Arianna wished she could jog a victory lap around the room.

  She watched him for several more seconds to punctuate the psychic point she wished to communicate then looked away.

  She scanned the room, taking in where everyone was, where doors and windows were, where sharp or heavy objects were, when movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention. A large figure moved with impossible speed and she turned to face it. When she did, she saw a man, a very familiar man, and her breath caught in her chest.

  She’d seen him before, last night, in fact. She’d seen him in her nightmare. He had appeared wraithlike, haunting, as she’d plunged headlong in to darkness so gloomy she doubted she’d return.

  Recognition must have raced across her features because his eyes, the same shade of tropical blue as Desmond’s eyes, watched her, dancing with curiosity. He smiled and dimples at the center of both cheeks deepened, dimples identical to Desmond’s dimples.

  “Hello Arianna Rose,” the man said, his voice rich and deep.

  “Hello,” she said. “Who the hell are you?”

  “Oh forgive me,” he said and took several steps toward her.

  He’d made no move to harm her, yet she flinched instinctively. He looked pleasant enough, but something in the way he moved made the fine hairs on her body rise and quiver with awareness.

  “I am Agnon,” he introduced himself.

  Up close, she could see that he had a meticulously groomed beard the same shade as his equally meticulous silver hair. But despite his hair color, his face was fairly smooth. Just a few creases lined his eyes, eyes that matched the sky on a clear day and were so familiar her heart ached. All she could picture was Desmond.

  “Are you well, Arianna?” Agnon asked her and moved closer.

  “I’m fine,” she lied when in fact, she felt far from fine. Something about the man unsettled her. She could not identify why exactly.

  “Has everyone been treating you well?” he asked and looked sternly at Scott, George and the others. She couldn’t help but notice that in Agnon’s presence, they behaved differently. They’d assumed a more mature, more respectful demeanor.

  “Huh, that’s a loaded question,” Arianna answered acidly. “Define what you consider well for me.”

  Agnon shot a look of warning their way and she swore she saw Scott and George cower. Agnon clearly held some kind of clout among them. He did have an air of regality about him that was undeniable. Still, something about him repelled her.

  “Let us eat,” Agnon said to everyone. “I don’t know about you, Arianna, but I am famished,” he said and took her elbow in his hand gently.

  She allowed herself to be led to the spacious dining area where a lavish meal had been prepared for them. Platters overflowed with beautifully garnished meats and vegetables and several bottles of wine had been uncorked, breathing and waiting to be poured.

  “What is this for? What are you celebrating?” Arianna asked.

  “You,” Agnon whispered, his lips so close they brushed her ear.

  She pulled back from him and looked directly into his eyes, her brow gathered in confusion. He raised his index finger to his lips as if to silence her. His gesture worked, surprisingly, as she did not feel the need to say another word. She would have believed him to be a crazy old man were it not for his aura. His aura commanded authority.

  Agnon slid a chair out from the long cherry wood table and waited for her to sit. Once she was seated, he assumed a seat to her right. He nodded and the others, who’d waited beside their chairs, sat as well.

  He began reaching for plates and offering her food from them. She wondered what the hell was going on, and more importantly, if anything she was being served was safe to eat. Was the meal tainted? Had they intended to poison her? Her head spun with questions.

  “Don’t worry, Arianna, everything here is safe. No poison, I promise,” Agnon said quietly and smiled, as if he’d read her mind. He then piled a generous scoop of scalloped potatoes onto her plate.

  “We should poison her for running from us at the party last night,” Jess mumbled.

  As soon as the words left Jess’s lips, Agnon brought a large hand crashing sown to the table. “That’s enough!” he thundered and the group collectively recoiled. “I will not have you disrespect our guest and disgrace yourselves in the process.”

  They have no idea who is sitting among them. She heard Agnon’s voice whisper through her mind with the weight of a feather, faint and fleeting.

  She snapped her head toward him, but he did not look directly at her. Instead, he smirked as he slipped a forkful of meat between his lips.

  Arianna was tempted to stand up and demand answers from the first person willing to speak. All the cloak-and-dagger mystery was starting to piss her off. Who was he and why was everyone acting like children in church around him? They were obviously on their best behavior, but why, the question of the moment, remained.

  As if he sensed her mounting frustration, Agnon reached out his hand and patted her shoulder. “Eat,” he said. “Please, enjoy this delicious food.”

  Her stomach growled and she obliged its calling, eating until she thought her skinny jeans would burst. When coffee and dessert was offered to her, she declined and Agnon leaned in and spoke.

  “My I speak with you, privately?” he asked.

  She eyed him suspiciously and hoped with every part of her that he did not intend to try to put the moves on her. She had daddy issues, but not so many that she was interested in bedding grandpa.

  Agnon chuckled softly and shook his head and she grew increasingly convinced that he was a mind reader. After all she’d seen and heard, all the bizarre situations she’d been placed in, present moment included, him being able to read her mind would not surprise her in the least.

  He stood and began walking. She followed suit and was led to a library. Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined the walls and held more books than she ever dreamed possible. She folded her arms across her chest and leaned against one of the book-lined walls.

  “Okay, let’s talk. Who are you?” she did not waste time asking.

  “Dear Arianna, you know who I am,” he said smoothly. “Think about it. Search you mind, your heart.”

  And with his words, the familiarity he possessed gelled. “Desmond,” she breathed. “You’re Desmond’s father.”

  “Very good,” he said and clasped his hands in front of him. He began wri
nging them slowly, deliberately. “I know who you are, too. You are the Sola.”

  She probably should have been more surprised than she was that he knew who or what, rather, she was, but the fact that he was related to Desmond took precedence over all other facts.

  “How is he, Desmond, I mean? I tried calling on him last night, but he did not come. Have you seen him?”

  Agnon lowered his eyes. “I have seen him,” he said somberly.

  “Why didn’t he come then?” she asked and searched his eyes, but they revealed nothing.

  “He couldn’t.”

  Arianna threw her arms in the air. “Jeez, not you, too,” she huffed. “Let me guess, the prophecy, right? The prophecy says he and I can’t be together. I’m so sick of that damned prophecy!”

  Agnon shook his head. “No, it wasn’t the prophecy. But you should not speak ill of it. It is you destiny.”

  She rolled her eyes at him and rested her hands on her hips. “Then explain why he did not come to me,” she said arrogantly. “He is my protector, right? But he did not come to me. Why is that?”

  “Arianna, he did not come to you because he is gone.”

  “Gone? What do you mean gone? What is he, on vacation or something? Did he get a break from babysitting me, like time off for good behavior?” she fumed.

  “Arianna stop. Calm down,” Agnon said softly.

  “No! I will not calm down. All of this is total bullshit! First he tells me he’s been with me my whole life and that he’ll always be with me. Then when I need him, he’s nowhere to be found! What the hell?”

  “Arianna hush!” Agnon roared.

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “What, you don’t like me talking about your son, your son who flaked on me?” she hissed.

  “Desmond is dead, Arianna?” Agnon said and leveled his azure gaze at her.

  “W-what? What did you just say?” she asked, her voice trembling with emotion.

  “Desmond is dead,” he repeated and Arianna felt her legs threaten to give way beneath her.

  “No, no, no! That can’t be! You’re wrong. Desmond is strong. He’s a powerful warlock,” she argued.

  “I am not wrong.”

  “You have to be. It’s not possible! Who did you hear it from?”

  “Myself,” he said and she did not understand what he was saying.

  “What? What do you mean you heard it from yourself? What does that even mean?”

  “I ordered his death, Arianna. I sent one of my people to kill him,” Agnon said with the same calm a normal person would have said they’d picked up their dry-cleaning with.

  Her heart froze, along with every other function in her body.

  “You what?” she breathed and watched as her world was bathed in blood red. “You killed him? You killed your son? You killed my Desmond”

  “I had no choice,” Agnon boomed. “He told me he had feelings for you, that he loved you.”

  Her breaths came in short, shallow pants and her entire body started to trembled. A thousand daggers pierced her heart at once. He had loved her. And now, he was dead. Rage filled her, roiling and bubbling like molten lava. Agnon had taken Desmond from her, murdered him, and he would pay dearly for it.

  She lifted her wrist, felt the current of fire sting her fingertips as it surged forward, exploding toward Agnon in a scalding flood of fire. He lifted his hand in expectancy of it, and she watched as the torrent of fire split and branched in two different directions, avoiding him.

  “Oh Arianna, don’t even bother,” he said and raised both hands.

  She felt her powers drain from her with such immediacy, she reeled backward.

  “What the,” she started, but Agnon interrupted her.

  “Someday you will have the power to destroy me if you so choose, but you are nowhere near that point now; soon, but not now. Not today,” he said calmly then added, “I only hope that when that time comes, we will be on the same side.”

  “Never,” she spat and felt the anger being suppressed inside her soar dangerously. It needed to be freed. She needed to end the man who’d ordered Desmond’s death.

  Consumed by bloodlust, she struggled to concentrate. She heard his voice and forced herself to listen, though she did not care what he had to say. He’d said all he needed to say already. The only sound she wished to hear escape his lips was his final breath.

  “A very important moment in time is coming,” he preached with an air of self-importance so condescending, the need to tear his throat open made her fingers throb and burn with need. “And you will be an important part of it, the most important part of it, in fact.”

  Kill. All she could think about was killing him. She would not be part of a moment in time. Especially not one he supported, he and his flunkies in the living room.

  “You’re delusional!” she hissed. “Maybe you and those dirtbags, your dirtbags out in the living room will be, but not me. I don’t stand beside murderers.”

  Every part of her quivered and shook, demanding that she release the mighty beast inside of her. She guessed the old man was strong, for he kept the beast at bay, for now. But she felt it, felt the strength of her power stretching and spreading slowly, achingly, between her ribcage, scratching and clawing with abrasive awareness, begging for release. But Agnon held it prisoner.

  “Those dirtbags are just being kids,” he defended his flunkies. “They don’t know who you are. I haven’t told them. They think you’re one of them.”

  Arianna laughed bitterly.

  “Considering that you killed your son, I’m not surprised that you think slaughtering innocent people is them just being kids. And why exactly haven’t you told them who I am?” she asked and wondered if they would have been so inclined to threaten her if they’d known who she was. Not that it mattered, their days were numbered whether they knew it or not.

  “They will find out when the rest of the world finds out.”

  Yes, yes they will, Arianna thought. And so will you, Agnon. But she did not dare speak those words. She would not give him or the others advance warning. She would strike, and soon, when they least expected it. But she did wonder what he referred to when he’s said the world would know who she was.

  “What the hell are you talking about? How will the world find out who I am? I have no plan to tell anyone who does not need to know.”

  “I think you need to go home. You’re in shock. I can see it in your eyes. Go home. Take time to process everything. We will talk again soon,” he said and did not answer her questions. And answers were exactly what she needed. He had them, but refused to share them. Perhaps she’d have the privilege of torturing those answers out of him. Someday soon, perhaps.

  Agnon twisted his wrist and Arianna winced. Every ounce of her hatred, her ire, the deadly power that writhed like a predator inside of her, suddenly seeped from her veins as if a drain stopper had been pulled. It chafed as it left her, felt as though her insides were being ripped from her.

  She shook her head, trying desperately to remain conscious as unimaginable loss swirled with mind-boggling pain as it circled the drain of her being.

  “I will never understand this,” she managed in a weak voice then turned on unsteady legs to run out of the room, out of Scott’s house.

  She pushed past Agnon out into the living-room area where Jess sat, perched on the arm of the couch, hovering over Scott. She took one look at them, all of them, and felt the dinner she’d just eaten threaten to spew. Without pause, she dashed past them to the front door.

  “Good-bye and you’re welcome,” Jess called sarcastically.

  “What the hell is her problem?” she heard Josh ask.

  But she did not care what they thought, or anyone else thought for that matter. Her heart had stopped beating in her chest. She was dead inside.