Darkness Fair (The Dark Cycle Book 2) (8 page)

TWELVE

Rebecca

Holly grabs my hand and pulls me out of our room to the landing. “Listen, you have to face this stuff, KWIM? It’s major bad mojo to keep toxic memories all bunched up inside your head.”

A second ago I was jitter-talking, and I mentioned a nightmare that I had where this thing that looked like Gollum from
The Lord of the Rings
was trying to feed me poisoned birthday cake. I thought it was kind of funny and that it would lighten the mood, but I shouldn’t have opened my mouth. Apparently Holly thinks of herself as a home-brew psychologist now that she’s taken three classes at the junior college.

“The dream is like a window,” she says. “The 411 on your deeper self.”

“So, I’m scared of
The Two Towers
? Or cake?” I know she’s hinting that I’m scared of the demons and stuff—of course I am—but I’m not sure this is something I want to be digging deeper into. Not now, anyway. My stomach is all jumbled. I’ve been sitting around for more than an hour, waiting for Aidan to get back home.

After the Connor confrontation, and seeing the look on Kara’s face when she spotted me a second ago, I’m ready to puke from nerves.

To say the emo-rocker girl didn’t appear happy would be an understatement. And she’s very intimidating. She seems like a dark Asian faerie or something. Her look is all edges and contrast, with black boots, dark jeans, and an off-the-shoulder
Star Wars
shirt. Her wide, innocent-looking eyes are juxtaposed against her wild, purple-tinted black hair. And she has about nine dozen piercings in one ear and only one in the other; in my experience a lopsided piercing pattern is usually the sign of not giving a damn. She’s that punk-pretty that only certain girls can pull off.

Holly acted like it was no big deal when Kara’s glare shot daggers at me. She just calmly explained to Kara why I’m here, as if we’re all the best of friends. I think she was playing it cool on purpose—smoothing over the reintroduction of an old wrinkle.

Kara wasn’t playing along, though. I recognized the look on her face. I’ve seen it on the faces of other girls enough to know when I’m an unwanted addition to a group; the look of a threatened diva. As if Kara doesn’t know she could have Aidan worshiping at her feet if she wanted. It bothers me, more than normal jealousy. I swear, it’s not just the average triangle-shaped love scenario. My life is not
Twilight
—if it was, I guess I’d be Jacob. Totally depressing.

But it’s not like that. It’s more complicated. More intense. My proof is that I can
feel
Aidan’s emotions.

Yes. Feel them. Like I’m me, but I’m him, too. It’s really strange. The first time I noticed it—when I was at the party that night on the beach, and he emerged from the darkness, so concerned about me—I felt his worry, and I thought I was losing my mind. Later, I realized that the strangeness didn’t stop there: Even though I’d never met this guy before, I’d been drawing him for years. Aidan was the angel in my artwork—like I’d been envisioning the future. It was crazy. But also comforting. It made the odd sensation of experiencing his emotions a little more tolerable.

Not that I ever enjoyed it. Especially the moments when I had to feel his need for Kara—my God, knowing his hunger for her, his desire, that was . . . disturbing. I’m really hoping I can just avoid the two of them together.

Kara’s in the kitchen now, so I can breathe a little easier. Except for this psycho-testing I’m undergoing with Doctor Holly.

“Okay, so you were lying there.” She points at the top of the staircase.

I nod, like I’m listening, but I’m actually trying to figure out if it was a terrible mistake, leaving Samantha’s and coming here.

“Hey-loo?” Holly sings, waving at my face. “Lay down.”

This is ridiculous.

She motions to the top step. “In the spot where
it
happened.”

I know she won’t stop babbling about all this nonsense unless I go along with it for a second, so I lie down on the landing and fold my hands over my chest. “What now?” I ask, pretending I’m into it.

“Well, you RET—replay the emotional trauma, of course.”

“Of course,” I mumble, closing my eyes. My stomach growls, reminding me I haven’t eaten since breakfast.

And then I feel a spark of emotion in my belly, drowning out the hunger. It’s shock—but not my own.

It’s
his
.

My eyes fly open and I lift my head, looking toward the burst of anxiety.

He’s standing at the bottom of the staircase, looking up at me like he’s seeing a ghost. His bronze skin is more sallow than the last time I saw him and he looks tired, but he has that same presence, power pulsing off of him in waves. And he has this awareness in his eyes like he’s sensing and seeing
everything
.

It’s the same feeling every time I see him. The rush of elation and euphoria, as if I’ve made it home after a long journey. And the safety. Always the safety when I’m close to him.

Holly pokes her head around the bannister when she realizes I’m looking at someone. She waves at Aidan. “Don’t freak. I was just showing her where it all happened. Like, re-envisionist therapy.”

His shock turns to a frown. He starts up the stairs and in spite of how frustrated I am that he blew me off yesterday, I can’t help the way my heartbeat quickens. His hands clench and unclench as he comes closer, as if he’s touched something that makes his fingertips tingle. There’s uneasiness in him, resting right beside my own.

“You relive moments and whatnot,” Holly continues, like everything’s fine and normal. “And then things are supposed to come clear. I’m doing a paper on it for chemical psych. I mean, this girl’s gotta have baggage, right?”

He stops at the top of the landing and stares at her like she’s completely crazy.

I stand and wipe my hands on my yoga pants, suddenly wishing I’d worn something less black for this re-envisionist thing. There are now smudges of dirt on my thighs. I sigh and look at Aidan to say,
Someone needs to sweep
,
but when my eyes meet his, the casual words stick in my throat. Who the hell cares that I have spots on my pants? He’s thinking of how he saw me nearly bleed to death right there, and his mind is racing from the shock we just gave him. The
thud, thud, thud
of his heartbeat vibrates in my temple.

So instead I say, “Sorry,” and swallow because my mouth is now a desert.

He clears his throat and glances my way, but he won’t really look at me. “So, you’re staying here for a few weeks?” he asks.

I study his profile, the way his jaw muscle flexes. Connor was right, Aidan’s really not happy that I’m here. “I’m not sure. I might just go stay with Samantha instead.” I’ve obviously made a mistake. I try not to let the rejection sting too much.

He looks at me then and his brow creases. “You don’t have to go.”

I wish I could feel him wanting me to stay more than I do. “It’s for the best.”

“
Ay dios mio
,”
Holly says. “This is cray, children. Talk about awk
ward
. Here, I’ll FIFY.” She takes my hand and Aidan’s, then pulls us into her room. “Now either talk it out or make out.” Then she spins on her heel and leaves us, shutting the door before either of us can protest.

We both just stand there, facing each other, a bit thrown. Well, thrown and embarrassed.

I back up a step or two, not liking how being close to him makes that vulnerability in me feel so much stronger. “I’m sorry. I thought it would be a nice surprise. I didn’t think . . . I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“It’s fine, Rebecca, really.” He says the words, but I can tell he doesn’t mean them; me being here is making him nervous. “Don’t feel bad,” he adds. “Things are just nuts right now.”

“I only came because my dad’s out of town for work and I didn’t want to be alone.”

He nods his head. “What does he think about you being here?”

“He doesn’t know. He arranged for me to stay with Samantha’s parents, but Samantha’s busy with dance competitions.” And to be sure he knows I’m not a total stalker, I say, “And I’m not much of a fan of her stepfather’s roaming hands.” The gross stepdad isn’t the only reason I wanted to stay here instead, but the main reason—wanting to be close to Aidan—seems to have flown out the window, given his reaction.

Aidan sparks with protectiveness at my words. “Why didn’t you tell your dad?” he asks.

“My dad doesn’t need another reason to worry. He’s been through enough.”

His eyes lock with mine and for a second it’s like we’re moving back to the way we were over the last few weeks. Comfortable. Safe. Friends. Even though I want more, the thought of losing our friendship is making it tough to breathe.

“Why didn’t you call me yesterday?” I ask quietly, not sure I want to know the answer.

He blinks and guilt filters from him. “I . . . I was going to text you, but . . . I’m sorry, Rebecca. Everything’s crazy right now.”

“What’s going on?” I want to move closer to him, but I’m not sure how.

He takes a few breaths, then goes to sit in Holly’s Hello Kitty desk chair, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, rubbing his hands over his face. His dark curls fall forward and a glint of gold shimmers on the tips as the sunlight shines through the window behind him. He looks up at me and even now, in my confusion and conflict, I’m struck by how lovely he is, how his black lashes frame his troubled hazel eyes, how that odd marking on his left arm looks almost alive with the tension in the muscles beneath.

“A lot is going on,” he says. “I don’t know.”

“Aren’t I still your friend?” I ask. “You can tell me, Aidan.”

His guilt surfaces again, stronger this time. “You are,” he says, staring at the floor. “You are my friend, Rebecca.”

“Then why are you pulling away?” I lower myself onto the edge of the bed, facing him. “And don’t tell me that you’re not, because I can feel it, something’s changed.”

He blows out a long breath, then says, “Something has changed. I’m not sure why I didn’t tell you before, why I acted like it wouldn’t matter. Because it does. It was wrong of me.”

“What?” My nerves turn raw as his helplessness trickles into me.

“I told you some things about me, how I can see stuff, like ghosts and demons, but what you don’t know . . . you don’t know that there are other things I can do. Parts of me, parts of who I am, that you won’t ever know or understand.”

I stare at him, confused. “Like what?”

His eyes meet mine and the intensity in them seems to suck the air from the room.

“I can see your soul,” he says, his voice scratchy, like the words are difficult to say. “And I can see when you lie.”

Shock numbs me to my toes. It sounds so crazy—he sees my
soul
? But, then again, I have no idea why I would be afraid of Aidan seeing into me. I feel his emotions, after all.

“But that’s stuff I could always do,” he continues. “Since the day I met you, I could see you were a virgin. I knew you cared about me. I knew things about you that no one would know about a stranger. So much was clear to me from the moment I met you.”

He could tell I was a virgin just by
meeting
me? It’s like that dream where I realize I’ve been walking around school naked all day. What else has he known all this time?

“It’s not just you,” he says in a rush. “I see everything, everyone the same. I can see Jax and Holly’s souls, too. And the soul of the guy behind the counter at Starbucks.”

Well, that makes me feel special. I don’t know what to say. What does a soul even look like?

“We’re friends, you and me,” he adds, “but I know that you want more than that.”

I swallow hard but don’t look away. I won’t deny that I care about him.

“But I think that’s because we’re connected in other ways, too, because of your abilities and mine. It’s just . . . the thing is . . . I’m changing now. Becoming
more
—I can’t explain it.”

I’m connected to him in some way, he’s right. And he thinks that’s why I’m attracted to him?

“Something happened,” he continues. “Something changed in me. I’m connected to Kara now . . . still connecting, really. It’s like puzzle pieces fitting together, and it’s more than just me being attracted to her. It’s bigger than that. She’ll be a part of me forever now. I wanted to believe I could still be your friend, even though I knew you liked me more than that. But I’ve realized it’s not right. It’s not fair to you.”

My mind is lost in everything he’s said. One thing is very clear, though: he loves Kara. I see it in him, feel it when he says her name. “No . . . it’s not fair.”

“I’m supposed to protect you, I know that now. But I’m not doing a very good job.”

I don’t feel protected, that’s for sure. I’m a gaping wound right now. A naked soul he’s been looking at, seeing all my flaws and not choosing me. It’s ridiculously crushing.

“I think it’s best if you’re going to stay here that you know the whole truth. And I definitely think if your dad’s out of town, that you should stay with us.”

His concern for me is genuine; it feels like a grip on my shoulders. But if I do what he says, if I stay here, am I being weak? Am I giving into that side of me that needs affirmation? I can’t tell. I can’t even tell if it matters. My insides whisper that I need to stay close, that I need to listen to him, even if it hurts.

Which is crazy. And totally not the inner feminist voice I’d rather hear.

“I’ll think about it,” is all I can manage for now. I need to give him the drawing I have in my pocket still. I need to figure out if I’m going back to Samantha’s or someone else’s place. I need some sane advice, but everyone I trusted for that is gone now. Even my imaginary angel.

THIRTEEN

Aidan

I can’t focus. Hurting Rebecca, seeing the torment in her eyes—torment I put there . . . it’s tearing me up. And pissing me off.

“Pass the red one,” Connor says, waving at a basket of USB drives at the end of the table in the office. “I was placing cameras last week, and this weird thing came up on one of the feeds. I was thinking you could help me check it out.”

I pass him a drive stick.

Connor takes it, then hands it back, scoffing. “This isn’t red on Earth, dude.”

I look down and see it’s blue. “Sorry.” I put it back in the basket and find the red one.

Connor inserts it into the laptop. “What’s got your neurons captive?”

“Nothing.”

“Does this
nothing
have red hair?” He’s got this look on his face that tells me he doesn’t like any of this stuff with Rebecca.

“Something like that.”

“You have to focus, Aidan. This isn’t about her.”

“I know.” But it is. I just wish I understood how she fits.

“Rebecca may be a Light, but supposedly I am, too,” Connor says. “Do you get depressed when you hurt my feelings?”

“Wait.” I lean back in mock surprise. “You have feelings?”

He chuckles and opens the USB drive, searching through the folders.

Connor’s right, he is a Light. And so are Finger and Jax and Holly. But I don’t feel even a quarter of the connection with them that I feel with Rebecca. She’s different. She always has been. I just wish I knew why. Then maybe I wouldn’t have to feel so guilty every time I want to care about her.

Maybe it’s time to stop thinking about that. It’s not like I don’t have enough stuff going on as it is. I need to throw myself into fixing the cave and waking Ava. I just hope Eric can stop her father.

“Kara says you guys have been working on learning some rune formations,” I say.

He looks sideways at me like I’m accusing him of something. “Nothing kinky.”

“Ha. No, I mean I may need your help with some wards for my great-grandmother’s place. And the cave. I need to keep demons off the land.”

He nods. “Yeah, I think between Kara and me we’d know just enough to be dangerous.”

“To demons.”

“Sure.” He focuses on the folders in the USB, clicking on one marked
Fosters_livefeed
.

After this, maybe I should read Eric’s damn journal again, get more info there. I can look for the “under-passage” Eric talked about, whatever that is. A passage within a passage, obviously. A code? Shit, I’m getting a headache.

“What’s Sid say about this video feed?” I ask, trying to care about the task in front of us.

“He hasn’t looked at it yet. I figured it’s better to let the guy rest. He hasn’t been real solid the last few days.”

Eric’s words come to mind again, making the ache in my gut return. “What do you mean?”

“He’s tired. Really tired.”

I nod and wonder why he’s not elaborating more. It’s obvious Sid is lowering his guard more with Kara and Connor than with me. I don’t know why, but it bothers me.

“And he’s okay with you taking over the decisions?” I ask.

“It’s going to have to happen sooner or later, I guess. Might as well give the guy a break while he’s got a chance to have one.” He sighs, as if resigned to a heavy future.

The idea of Sid not being here one day, not a part of this thing he’s created, feels so wrong. And even though he’s a pain in the ass and sneaky as hell, the guy grows on you. I don’t want to imagine how we’ll get through all this without him.

Connor moves the cursor and clicks on a video file labeled
attic
, opening it in the media program. He moves the time marker to three-fourths down the timeline before letting it play. “Watch the right corner, by the small door.”

I watch the still image of an empty room bathed in green night-vision tech. Like the label on the file says, it’s an attic. It has a low ceiling and wood floors. There are boxes stacked on the left, a chair turned over in the middle of the space, some empty bookshelves in the shadows along the wall. Several bright green dots create a pattern on the opposite wall, likely from a laser Connor set up when he placed the camera. The dots are in a grid around the door he pointed out. The door is in the corner, about half the normal size, reminding me of something from
Alice in Wonderland
. It’s probably a small closet. And someone doesn’t want it opened; there are three very large latches holding it closed.

“That’s where the owner of the house said she felt the thing shove her,” Connor adds, pointing at the tiny door. “She claimed she was trying to unlock the cupboard to clean it out. There was the smell of something dead in the house, and it was the only spot she hadn’t checked yet.”

“Why’d she lock it like that?”

“She didn’t. Former owner.”

I look more closely and notice what looks like a word carved into the wood door, near the top latch. It’s difficult to see, but it almost looks like it says
dybbuk
. Yiddish for a wraith-type spirit.

“Is this family, or the former owner, Jewish?” I ask.

Connor shrugs. “Didn’t ask. Why?”

“The door, there. It says something. I think it’s Yiddish.”

“Well, in five seconds you’ll only have a hundred more questions, so watch those lights.”

I focus back on the green laser points on the wall, and—

“Whoa!” I say, as the video goes black and the word scratched into the wood seems to shine, as if made of light. After about half a second, the green glow from the night vision fills the room again, and I know beyond a doubt something with mass moved past that door. Something big enough to block out all the light from the laser.

“Crazy, right?” Connor says.

“Maybe it was an animal?” Not likely, but I have to keep an open mind. Not everything is paranormal, even though in my world it feels like it is.

“I checked the room for droppings when I placed the camera but didn’t see anything. And the client doesn’t own any pets. Plus, do you know any possums or raccoons that move that fast?” he asks. “Or that can make something glow, like that spot on the surface of the door?”

I shake my head. “And the lady was physically touched?”

“Shoved. She told me she scratched her hand, got a gnarly splinter from the floor because of the fall.”

My curiosity is definitely piqued. “When do you go back?”

“Whenever you can come with me. I’m tired of sitting around.”

“Tomorrow, then. And you can help me with setting up the protections for my sister and grandma afterward.”

He shuts the laptop and pulls out the pen drive, tossing it into the basket. “What are the protections for?”

I sigh and lean back in the desk chair. “A demon left a bit of a
gift
in the cave where my sister is. And supposedly things are being drawn to the site.”

He makes a face, obviously realizing my request for help won’t be too fun. “What kind of
gift
did the thing leave?”

“A human leg.”

His eyes widen. “Are you shitting me?”

“I wish I was.”