Autumn Storm

by Lizzy Ford

  One, do no harm to others.

  Two, help those who need it, no matter how undeserving they may be.

  Three, it is better to let evil win than to commit evil.

  Troubled, her gaze lingered on the third rule before she returned to the master directory of files. The name of the final file The Trial also caught her attention.

  Every student of Light must pass a personalized trial geared towards their weakness in order to ensure that the student is meant for the path of Light. The trial is meant to challenge the student and to offer a temptation for them to leave the Light for personal reasons. Each trial is unique and developed by nature itself.

  This should’ve meant something to her; she felt it. But what? Frustrated, Autumn started from the first file and began reading about her new school. A few minutes before six, she walked down the stairs to the dining room. Jenna and Tanya were there, along with Adam and two other students. Adam smiled at her.

  Autumn sat beside him, comforted by his friendly, open features. The first course – salad and soup – was already on the table.

  “Save room for the pie,” he advised. “I’ve gained twenty pounds since getting here.”

  Autumn look at him skeptically. He was thinner than the stair railing.

  “Tomorrow morning, I can show you around campus,” he offered as they ate.

  “Us, too?” Jenna asked with a grin.

  Adam flushed again. “Yeah,” he mumbled.

  “The forest is scary,” Tanya said. “I’ve never been in a forest before.”

  “I grew up in Idaho,” Autumn said. I think. Troubled, she fell silent. She struggled to figure out what parts of her world were real and why she couldn’t remember everything or why no one remembered her when she knew them.

  When the huckleberry pie appeared before her, she wanted to cry. She’d guessed the flavor with the same confidence she’d guessed the path to the school earlier. She ate a little then pushed it away.

  Something was wrong here. In Boise, it had been the girl in the mirror. Here, there was a whole lot more that didn’t make sense.

  “Too full?” Adam asked.

  “Yeah,” she replied.

  Amber appeared a few minutes later to take her, Jenna and Tanya down the hallway again. They spent the evening reviewing the information and campus rules. Some were familiar; others were not. Autumn listened, growing more agitated as the night wore on.

  When she returned to her room, her head was spinning with all she’d learned. None of it surprised her, though. Jenna and Tanya were terrified by the thought of magick being real. Autumn found it intriguing.

  Her closet door was open. Autumn frowned and gazed into it, her eyes catching on a sticky note on the inside of the door.

  LOVE your clothes. Borrowed a sweater! Love, Dawn

  What kind of person took a complete stranger’s sweater? She didn’t have much to start off with. Her closet was barren compared to Dawn’s.

  With a shake of her head, Autumn closed the closet door and went to the bathroom. She closed her eyes as she turned on the light, cringing at the idea the dark-haired girl might be there. Peeking through her eyelashes, she was relieved to see her own reflection.

  Autumn opened her medicine cabinet and pulled out one of the bottles of pills. She’d begun to lower her dosage of painkillers, not wanting to be dependent on anything but her mind to control the pain. Halving the huge tablets led to strange dreams when she was used to not dreaming at all. She took her pills and climbed into bed.

  As she drifted to sleep, a dream unlike any she’d had before slipped into her mind. It was filled with disjointed scenes of the forest, of night, of falling.

  Of death.

  Chapter Two

  Summer was falling. As hard as he struggled, he couldn’t reach her. Pinned to the top of the cliff, he was helpless. Her scream ceased suddenly, leaving him in silence. Alone.

  Decker wrenched awake with a gasp, his heart pounding hard. Though haunted by that night, he’d never dreamt about it before.

  Wiping his face, he oriented himself in his dorm room at the private school in Washington where he’d transferred after Summer’s death. No part of him wanted anything to do with the boarding school in Priest Lake. His clock read three in the morning. The amount of valium he took should’ve knocked him out for the weekend but instead, lasted two hours. Every night, it was harder to force himself into sleep.

  Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, Decker sighed. The body next to him shifted, and he glanced over his shoulder.

  Bodies. Two women tonight. He remembered them vaguely. His gaze swept over them. The women he brought home with him always slept so deep and long after he wore them out. Sex took him away from the voices in his head, from his memories of Summer, from the pain. It was a temporary release that never lasted long enough, which was where the drugs came in: valium for what sleep it gave him and meth to keep him awake during class. Temporary fixes. It’s all his life consisted of anymore.

  Envious and frustrated, Decker rose and crossed to the window overlooking a crowded parking lot.

  Without Summer, Darkness was all that truly soothed his misery.

  Feed it, and it will take you away. You are lucky she died before she saw what you are, one of the voices in his head told him.

  When he’d become the Master of Dark, he’d inherited the souls of all his predecessors. They were constantly chattering, filling his head with noise he couldn’t escape. Of all the Dark Masters and Mistresses before him, the most feared of them all had taken on the role of mentoring Decker. Bartholomew-the-Terrible was known for the mass slaughter of humans and witchlings he committed over the course of dozens of years. He’d taught Decker where to find the small moments of relief and how many ways there were to kill with nothing more than a knife and his hands.

  Recognizing the truth in the words, Decker looked at his hands. He showered half a dozen times a day but always felt the warmth of blood on him. It was intoxicating to the Dark side of him. When the high wore off, he was left with the hole inside of him and a mess to clean up.

  His phone buzzed from its place on the nightstand. His twin, Beck, called or texted almost every day. Decker ignored him, along with everyone else who tried to contact him. He’d wanted to talk to one person the past few months, the woman he’d inherited his Dark role from.

  His mother, however, refused to speak to him. He stopped trying to reach her when it became clear she wanted nothing to do with him and let Bartholomew guide him.

  Maybe tonight, he thought with another glance at the clock. No one with a clear conscience was up at this hour. His mother definitely fit the bill.

  He crossed to his phone and saw his father’s name on it. Surprised, Decker read the text.

  Give me a call when you’re up!

  Calm, quiet Michael Turner was the foundation of the family. He was reserved, and normally, it was Decker’s mother who checked up on him. Decker dressed and pulled at his magick. He wasn’t going back to sleep this night.

  It took him where he willed it, to the cabin in Priest Lake where his parents were for the next week. The cabin was quiet and dark. He paced through the ground floor, hoping his father was down here and not upstairs with his mother. Light in the kitchen drew him to the large area, where his father and grandfather sat at the breakfast table. Opposite him, the bank of windows reflected the light of the kitchen. During the day, they’d display the stunning view of the lake the nearby town of Priest Lake was named for.

  “Hello, son,” his father said without turning. “Have a seat.”

  Decker hesitated, sensing something was off. They were playing cards and drinking coffee at three in the morning. His grandfather wore a robe and smoked a cigar inside the house, which was usually a no-no. His father was clothed in sweatpants and socks, the bronze skin of his upper body snug around his lean frame. Michael Turner ran marathons. Decker knew now it had to be because of how crazy his mother drove him.

  S
ummer was supposed to sit at the third seat at the table. Fresh pain filled him as he realized he stood in the presence of two generations of Dark Mistresses’ mates. His mother inherited her position from her mother, who married Grandpa Louis over fifty years ago.

  Decker sat, at once aware of the soothing warmth that flowed off the two Dark mates. It quieted the voices in his head without silencing them.

  “Got a call from the insurance company today,” Michael Turner said, glancing up. His eyes were understanding.

  Heat crept up Decker’s face. He cleared his throat. No matter how bad he already felt, his father’s compassion made him feel worse.

  “Glad you weren’t hurt. I’ll send you another bike, if you promise not to run into any more mountains.”

  It was one thing for Decker to tell his brother about the suicide attempt when Beck showed up at the hospital. It was different telling his mother, who understood too well what it was to grieve as deeply as he did. She’d lost her twin long ago. Based on all accounts, she’d gone crazy afterwards, like he was, except that she had her mate, Michael Turner, the man she’d eventually marry.

  Decker revered the unflappable man who somehow managed to cage his mother’s Darkness. After becoming the Master of Dark, he was in greater awe, knowing what he did about how strong that Dark could be. His father wasn’t the best person he knew; he was also the strongest. In the darkest hours of his despair, Decker often wondered if Summer was as able as his father, especially since she failed her trial and fell into Dark magick.

  He hated himself for doubting her. He deserved whatever the Darkness did to him.

  “How about a three-quarter ton truck?” his father asked at his silence. “Harder to wreck.” A smile was on his face.

  “It’s okay, dad. I don’t need a vehicle,” Decker said at last. “Thanks.”

  “I know you’re struggling, Decker,” he said. “As my son, you’re half Light, too. The Dark won’t consume you, as long as you remember that.”

  Decker managed to nod. He didn’t dare tell his father he wanted the Darkness to consume him. He’d driven his motorcycle into a cliff at ninety miles an hour, trying to end the pain. When he awoke, the bike was in pieces, and he was in the hospital with Beck standing at his bed. Three days later, Decker was fully healed.

  One of you must sire successors. Until then, you will be immortal to all but death by magick, Bartholomew had told him wisely. I tried many times to end my life. Eventually, I realized giving into the Darkness was all that would stop the pain.

  Decker couldn’t imagine fathering children and sharing his curse with them. He’d figured out how to use his magick to act as a contraceptive. The women he took to bed had no names or faces he’d recognize the next morning, not with the Darkness and drugs in his system. They definitely weren’t going to produce his children. If only Summer …

  He pushed the thought away. No, producing twins to takeover Light and Dark duties when they turned eighteen was something Beck would have to do. Decker didn’t doubt his brother would.

  “I’m guessing Dawn’s kid isn’t Beck’s,” he murmured. “I shouldn’t have walked away from that.”

  “It’s probably his kid,” his father replied. “Not twins, though, or you’d be dead.” Always calm, Michael was gazing at him.

  Decker stared at the table. “I take it that whole … issue isn’t going away.”

  “They dropped the restraining order when we threatened to press charges for statutory rape. She was nineteen and he was seventeen at the time of conception.” Michael shook his head. “He’s back in school. They’re playing hardball, though. If the DNA test comes back with him as the father, I’ll have to agree to set up a trust fund to keep them from taking Beck to court.”

  “Beck, you fool,” Decker said with a sigh. As much as he worked to divorce himself from the rest of his world, he couldn’t help mentally lecturing his brother one more time. Knowing his twin was probably in distress about the whole Dawn issue brought out the instincts of a reluctantly protective brother.

  “He’s learning,” Grandpa Louis said. “He’s grown up a lot this fall.”

  “They both have,” Michael agreed. “We’ll get through it.”

  “How are you holding up, Decker?” Grandpa Louis asked.

  “Still alive,” Decker replied wryly.

  “I lost your grandmother seven years ago. I don’t know how you’re handling it alone.” There was sorrow in Grandpa Louis’s old voice. “That’s why I follow your mother around the world. I lost my wife. One of our children remains missing. I’ll take care of the family I have left.”

  Decker studied him. He didn’t want to end up like Grandpa Louis, mourning for the rest of his life. He didn’t want to be like his mother, either, who caused so much pain to those she loved. Grandpa Louis had no idea his own daughter was the source of half his pain, for she’d killed her twin, Nora. She’d hidden what she was from her father and children for eighteen years.

  Decker couldn’t bear to keep such secrets from those he loved. He didn’t know how his mother spent every day with her father and let him believe Nora was missing, not dead. Decker wanted nothing to do with hurting Beck or his parents. Once the Darkness took him, he’d never have to worry about hurting anyone.

  You will save your family this kind of pain. Bartholomew said in approval.

  Feeling his father’s gaze again, Decker sensed Michael knew about Nora’s death, too. It was the nature of the bond between his parents, the ability for the mates of a Dark Mistress or Master to accept the truth about their mates. He’d never have a mate, now that Summer was dead.

  “How do you get through it?” he asked Grandpa Louis.

  His grandfather set the cards he held on the table and reached into the pocket of his robe. He pulled out an ancient, yellowing photograph with dog-eared corners and held it out. Decker took it.

  “You never really do,” his grandfather said. “I look at that a few times a day to remember the good times.”

  The picture was of Grandpa Louis, his wife and twin girls. Decker’s mother was a teenager around sixteen with her arms wrapped around her sister’s shoulders. They both wore bathing suits and cheesy smiles, standing on the beach in front of their parents. Grandma Aziza was enigmatic, radiating the dark allure that characterized the Masters and Mistresses of Dark. Of Egyptian descent, her daughters inherited her straight hair and large eyes, while their dark skin came from their African- American father.

  I’m a mutt, Decker thought, mind going to his father, a full-blood Native American. Decker’s amusement faded. The sight of his mother before she became the Mistress of Dark was painful for him. She was happy, innocent, free. When the picture was taken, she had no idea she’d kill her sister in a couple of years.

  “At some point, you will understand,” Grandpa Louis said. The skin around his eyes was soft as he gazed tenderly at the photograph. “You’ll tell yourself: Summer is dead. You are not. You have a tomorrow to think about and people who love you. You’ll start to live for them at first and eventually, you heal and live for yourself.”

  Decker’s throat tightened at the honest words. He wished it was true for him. Would Grandpa Louis feel the same if he knew the fate of Nora?

  No, there was no such healing for a Master of Dark. The Darkness was too strong, the secrets too painful. He was a hazard to those he loved. If he couldn’t heal, his family would, when he was gone.

  It was best for all of them.

  Keep feeding the Dark, Bartholomew advised.

  The mental slap of a soul going bad hit him. Decker had never been so relieved at the thought of running off to kill someone. After Summer’s death, he’d decided no one got a second chance, if she didn’t. He handed the photo back.

  “I’ve gotta go,” he whispered.

  “Take care, son,” his father said.

  Not trusting himself to respond, Decker nodded and rose. He left the kitchen and summoned his shadows, returning to the dorm room to grab a
knife before letting the Dark take him to the newly Dark soul.

  Hopefully, there was more than one. He needed more Darkness, if it was going to consume him.

  Chapter Three

  Autumn tossed and turned all night and rose early for breakfast. Plopping down across from Jenna - the first face she recognized - Autumn sat in a daze for a few minutes. Her painkillers sometimes took awhile to wear off in the morning. A woman emerged from the direction of the kitchen to set a huge plate full of food before her.

  The scents nudged her awake. She dug in, hungry.

  “We only have a half-day today!” Jenna told her, excited.

  Autumn looked up from her breakfast. She preferred food to talking in general, more so when she was sleepy. Jenna was waiting for a response.

  “Okay,” she said.

  “Have my coffee,” Jenna said, placing the mug before her with a grin.

  Autumn accepted it gratefully. There were a dozen teens at the table, most of whom she didn’t know. Beck was at one end, talking to Tanya. Amber was right about him and blonds. Jenna was ten times prettier than Tanya, but it was Tanya who had Beck’s attention. By the blush on her face, he was flirting with her.

  Jenna and Adam sat across from Autumn. She tried not to notice the way they sneaked looks at each other. It made her want to roll her eyes and tell them to get a room. She drank her coffee and ate more pancakes instead.

  As her body woke, Autumn found herself interested in more than the food. Beck had a presence unlike anyone else’s. She wondered why his magick was different. The orientation book hadn’t discussed a lot about the actual magick, only that it existed.

  “New girls!”

  Amber’s voice jarred her. She twisted from her seat at the table to see the cheerful woman. Today, Amber wore jeans, snow boots and a bright pink sweater. Something about her made Autumn smile every time she saw her.