Darkness of Light (2 page)

My stomach dropped even further. Sheriff Weiss had been called out for every “incident” thus far. He, along with Principal Mitchell, felt I had something to do with the school’s electrical explosions, and they were determined to find the proof and lay it at my doorstep. Neither liked me much. The feeling was mutual. 

A smug smile grew tight on the Sheriff’s lips as he stepped forward. He wasn’t a big man, but his sharp features, gray hair, and rigid stance made him seem threatening. He had a no-nonsense, I’d-rather-throw-you-in-jail-and-ask-questions-later philosophy. “So, Ms. Brycin, what can you tell me about the explosion this time?”

“I don’t know if I’d call it an explosion.” 

“Oh, really? What would you call it then?”

“An extensive light outage?” 

As I predicted, he didn’t seem to appreciate my sense of humor, and it only made him angrier.

“You think this is funny, Ms. Brycin?”

“No, not at all, sir.”

“They will be inspecting the electrical wiring in the building, and if it looks remotely like someone has tampered with it, you are the first person I am coming for. You got that?” His voice was stern and chilly. I nodded quickly in response.

The huddling students around us appeared to be listening in, their eyes widening as they watched the drama unfold. Embarrassment and anger heated my body. I hadn’t gone anywhere near the damn wiring and lighting. I didn’t know a thing about them being tampered with, so why was I being treated like a criminal? And, worse, why did I feel like one? I had been living most of my life pretending I was normal, that I wasn’t slowly going insane. That veil was getting thin. Maybe I had finally, completely cracked and one of my other personalities was a high-wire gymnast with a degree in electrical engineering. 

“I will be calling your stepfather. I shouldn’t have waited this long, but tomorrow Principal Mitchell and I will be meeting with you and your step-father down at the station. I will find the proof this time, Ms. Brycin. You
will
be caught.”

I swallowed nervously. I understood how serious and true he was to his word. He walked away, leaving me standing there surrounded by my gossiping classmates. I needed to get away. I took off in the opposite direction, needing to escape from all the watchful eyes. 

Not wanting to be seen, I slipped behind the gym and immersed myself in the dark shadows. I slumped against the brick wall, struggling to keep my legs from giving out. I wanted to go home and crawl under my blankets and feel the security of my room. To know my stepfather, Mark, was there to shelter me. I longed for the days when I was little and Mark would keep me safe from the bad men and monsters. Somehow, I knew this was not something Mark could protect me from.

As if on cue, a dark figure with piercing blue eyes slipped in and out of the shadows. I stiffened; the familiarity of those eyes hit something deep in me.
No, not now!
I squeezed my eyes shut.
It’s not real. It’s not real.
I chanted to myself.
This is really not a good time to be crazy.
I opened my eyes and my gut twisted. The figure still stood there, its eyes locked onto mine, beckoning me. Then they faded away. 

For years I had been hearing voices and seeing things that shouldn’t exist. But they weren’t real. They couldn’t be. It was just my mind showing me again that I was one card short of a full house. I was about to turn around and head back when I heard a low chuckle bounce off the walls. 

“Ember.” My name floated off the walls around me, and my stomach lurched as I tried to find the source of the whisper.

“Who’s there?” 

A chuckle swirled around me as a blurry figure stepped out from the deep shadows. Only his deep, blue eyes were clear. He moved slowly towards me, his eyes clinching mine, making my chest tighten. 

“
Cinaed
,” he whispered, his voice low and rough. I didn’t understand what he said, but strangely there was something familiar about the word and his beautiful voice—like it was from a dream. “At last.” He advanced through the darkness reaching my side quickly. 

Fear cemented my feet to the ground. Even though he was right in front of me, my eyes couldn’t seem to understand or make out his shape. It was like he didn’t fully exist. I focused on the only steady part of him—his unreal blue eyes. Without a sound, he moved in closer, his eyes never leaving mine. 

“I have been watching you for a long time,” he said. “You have grown into a beautiful woman.” 

“W-Who a-are you-u?”

“The better question to ask yourself is who you are.” A slow smile spread over his lips. “You have to stop closing your mind to me.” His breath grazed my neck, causing my body to tingle. “You look so much like your mother.”

“H-How do you know my mother?” The question shot out of my mouth before I even realized it. His statement seemed strange as I knew I didn’t look anything like my mother. I might have taken after her in personality, but looks-wise I had always assumed I took after my biological father. 

My mother had been petite, with a tiny, curvy frame, long, thick auburn hair, and sparkling brown eyes with orange flecks. I, on the other hand, was tall, about five foot nine and more athletic than curvy. The only thing I did have was my mom’s thick hair, but mine was jet black and layered past the middle of my back. Ever since I was born, my hair also had these dark red streaks naturally running through it. Everyone assumed I put them there, and I let them believe it. I got tired of explaining that it was some strange quirk in my genes.

It was my eyes, though, that drew the most attention—but never the kind I wanted. Not only were they large and prominent, but I was one of those rare people who had two different colored eyes. Mine weren’t any ordinary colors either. One was a strange, bright yellow-greenish color that illuminated like a cat’s eye. The other one was pale blue-lavender, outlined with electric dark blue and purple. Both pretty—separately. Together on one face, they always caused strange looks and comments. 

How I loved the comments. As if I didn’t know I had two different colored eyes. One of these days, I was going to respond with, “Oh how embarrassing. Did I leave the house with my eyes not matching again?” With my pale skin, black hair with red streaks, my different-colored eyes, and my tall build, I could never blend in. 

“I know many things about you.” His hazy frame moved in a little closer. “You are meant to be with me. You cannot fight who you truly are,
mo chuisle mo chroi
.” His voice was so beautiful, I wanted to close my eyes and float away in it. “You are not like them, Ember. Your mind and heart know that. You just have to accept it.” He studied me for a moment before he continued. “I am risking much by coming to you like this, but I had to see you tonight. You are starting to become harder to hide from her. Soon, when you finally come into yourself, I will no longer be able to conceal you. I want you to be prepared.”

“Conceal me from whom? What are you talking about?”

“Em?” Ryan’s voice drifted from around the building. “Are you out here?”

I jerked my head in the direction of his voice. I could see Ryan’s head popping around the corner of the gym. When I turned back, I was alone. My eyes frantically searched everywhere around me, wondering why and how the person, or whatever it was, had vanished into thin air. I inhaled deeply as fear and logic made my mind reel with shock.
Where did he go? Who was that? What the hell just happened?

Ryan headed towards me. “There you are. Kennedy and I have been looking for you.” 

Panic overwhelmed me. I drew in tiny gasps of air. I really was going crazy, wasn’t I? That hallucination was way beyond having any reasonable explanation. I would be considered certifiable, and this time Mark wouldn’t be able to stop it. My pulse hammered and my body felt like it was on fire. The tingling sensation running over my skin remained, telling me I hadn’t dreamt up the strange figure—unless my imagination was that good. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Ryan leaned against the wall next to me. His soft brown eyes were full of concern. He had a sweet round face and dimples when he smiled. Ryan was a few pounds over what would be considered stocky. His outfits and dark hair were always styled perfectly. When I had met him five years ago, I had instantly liked him. His warm, comfortable aura made me want to hug him like a big, sweet teddy bear, but this bear had a sarcastic bite.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just needed some air.” 

“You’re a bad liar.” He nudged my shoulder with his. “I heard the sheriff and the principal cornered you. The whole school is talking about it.”

I sighed. “Of course they are.” 

“Come on, let’s go home.” Ryan put his arm around me. I nodded and let him steer me towards the parking lot. As Ryan and I walked away, I took one last glance over my shoulder. In the deepest shadows I could see glowing, blue eyes staring back at me. 

Three

“I’ll call you guys tomorrow,” I said, jumping out of Ryan’s beat-up Nissan as it stopped in my driveway. Throwing a quick last wave over my shoulder, I raced towards my front door. I unlocked it and stepped into the house. Double locking the door behind me gave me a false sense of safety. No lock or door could keep out the things haunting me, but the sound of the lock clicking still comforted me. 

It was too early for Mark to be home from his poker night with the boys so the house was dark and quiet. There were no streetlights where we lived, and the closest neighbors were over three miles away. We had moved to Olympia, Washington five years earlier. Both Mark and I had fallen in love with the ranch-style house the moment we saw it. The house backed up onto the Capitol State Park. I loved that trees constantly surrounded me, keeping me calm and at peace. But, on this night, the woods felt like they had eyes, watching me through a wall of glass separating us. 

Going around the house, I turned on every light. Mark would yell at me for wasting energy, and normally I would have felt the same. Right then I didn’t care. I wanted to feel comforted and safe, and illuminating every dark corner helped.

Making myself tea, I began to settle down. My bruised, achy bones longed for a warm bath. I headed for the bathroom. Undressed, I stood in front of the mirror, peeling the bandages from my arms. My stomach clenched as I peered at my cuts, or really the lack of them. Dried blood was crusted along my arm, around a healed wound. I grasped my forehead bandage and yanked it, a startled cry escaping my lips. My forehead bore a scab that should have taken days to achieve. 

Numbness blanketed my body. I had always healed fast, but this was even faster than what was normal for me. I let out a crazed laugh. Turning around, I ignored the bathtub and stepped directly into the shower. Once I was in my pajamas and in bed, under the warmth of my comforter, my lids closed, sinking me into sleep. 

***

Fire ripped through them with devastating speed and accuracy. The people fell to their knees with tortured cries, the flames wrapping around them like snakes. I looked down on them. Children clung to their parents in fear. I felt nothing for them as power filled me while watching them wither in agony. Buildings collapsed behind them as my flames consumed their town. The people were not my target; they were obstacles in my way.

“Ember, stop!” My mom was there in front of me, her face full of anguish and fear. “You don’t want to do this. This isn’t you.”

A slow smile spread across my face. “But it is.”

***

I woke up with a start. It was still the middle of the night. Sweat matted my hair to my forehead. The dream evaporated the instant I opened my eyes, but its essence continued to grip my chest, making it hard to breathe. Feeling unsettled, I swung my legs over the side of the bed. I stood up and walked over to my mirror, my glowing eyes reflecting back at me. I turned around, pulling my sweatshirt up. My fingers begin to trace the markings. Celtic knots and symbols twisted and merged in thin, loopy, black lines down my back. Seeing them made me feel calmer, as if it was an anchor to my mom.

My tattoo wasn’t a delicate, little butterfly or some tiny, sweet flower. No, my tattoo reached from my neck to the lower part of my back, curling around my side. After I lost my mother, I had had this intense dream. When I’d woken up, I had sketched the symbols from my dream and ended up designing the tattoo that was now part of me. It gave me strength, which was something I needed after losing her. Mark hadn’t been terribly pleased about me getting it, but he had accepted it as something I had to do. He understood it made me feel she was always with me.

As I looked at the beautiful, haunting design, something nagged at me from the bottom of my soul, trying to tell me something. Whatever it was, it was just out of my reach. 

Four

The next day went from bad to worse. Between the incident at the school being in the local paper and the gossip mill running overtime, Mark was enlightened about every little detail, true or not, before he returned home from his ritual Sunday morning run and coffee shop stop. 

“Ember?” His voice reverberated throughout the house.

Uh-oh . . . I know that tone. Think he might have found out about last night?

“Ember Aisling Devlin Brycin! Get your butt out of bed now!”

Yep.

I sighed and rolled myself out of bed. My head and my body still ached, but not from the non-existent wounds. This ache was more of soreness, as if I had worked out really hard the day before. I felt exhausted as I shuffled into the kitchen.

“So when were you going to tell me about this?” Mark threw the newspaper he was holding, down on the counter with the headline facing me: “Mysterious Explosion Lights School Masquerade Ball.”

“Seriously?” I rolled my eyes. “It wasn’t even an explosion.” 

Mark looked levelly at me. That look told me I was walking a very thin line.

“What?” I sighed and then shut up. I knew better than to push him further. Mark Hill was the only family I had left, even if technically he wasn’t blood; and he was the only father I had ever known. He was a slim, tall, good-looking man who still received plenty of attention from women, especially because of his kind, blue eyes, warm smile, and slightly silvering blond hair. He kept in shape and enjoyed running marathons, which I considered the act of a truly demented person. But he seemed to really enjoy doing them.