Death Before Daylight (9 page)

My fingers latched onto his ankle, and I
yanked as hard as I could manage. My bicep ripped, but he fell
backward, slamming onto the ground. He was up before I could do
anything else, and he had kicked me again. This time, my ribs were
breaking, and I felt my car wreck all over again.

As I curled up, he cursed. “I would think
twice before starting a fight in this realm, Welborn,” he spoke as
his foot pushed against my side. “You’re nothing but a human
here.”

But my human side lived. Despite all the
rules we abided by, I could live in the Light realm, and he
couldn’t hide the truth.

“I don’t have to fight you,” I spat back,
knowing I could only overcome him with words. “You can’t kill me,
not even in your own realm.”

His boney face hardened. “Oh, I can kill
you,” he said. “I already have.”

“Then, why am I alive?”

“Because she’s protecting you,” he spoke
through gritted teeth.

For a millisecond, I saw Jessica, but the
knowledge stayed with me longer. I was safe. For now.

Darthon’s foot dug against my side, and my
lungs squeezed. “She won’t protect you forever,” he threatened.
“She’ll stop. She’ll run out of energy, and I’ll be here when she
does,” he continued. “You will die—permanently—but until then, I’ll
enjoy watching you die again.”

With that, his foot flicked from my ribs to
my head, and it slammed against the side of my skull. The crack was
the last thing I heard before I drew one last breath and succumbed
to darkness.

12

“
Pierce,”
I called for my guard one
hundred times, but I never received a response.
“Urte—Bracke—Luthicer—anyone!”
My mind sizzled out with a
deafening static, and my attempted connection broke.

Still, I planted my feet on the ground and
laid my hands on the far wall. The concrete room was a prison with
one door—a locked door I had tried to break too many times to
count. The only thing I succeeded in breaking was the skin on my
knuckles, and I had been awake for thirty minutes.

The room looked nothing like the one I had
previously seen in the Light realm, but I knew I was there. The
lack of temperature gave it away. I would never forget the heatless
fire, and it was impossible to forget Camille—the woman who died to
get me out of the same realm I found myself in again. This time, I
would get out on my own, and I would find Eric, too.

“
Shoman,”
I called for him, and unlike
the others, his connection didn’t sizzle out. Still, he didn’t
respond. He was alive, but he wasn’t conscious. Or he wasn’t able
to use his powers. Why mine worked, I didn’t know. I didn’t even
feel pain. I hadn’t the first time, and this time wasn’t any
different.

According to the Dark, the Light realm killed
shades. It tortured them. But I was a shade, and the realm blended
into me. The waving energy sank against my skin, and pleasant goose
bumps trailed up my spine.

I had to fight a smile as I called out to him
again,
“Shoman.”

“That won’t work here.”

I spun around with my hands in front of my
torso. My fighting stance was automatic. Urte had taught me that
much. But he hadn’t taught me what to do when my predator wasn’t
prepared to attack me.

She stood in the doorway, but her hands were
full with a set of clothes. When she tossed them across the room,
they landed on the ground near my feet. A sandwich wrapped in
plastic sat on top. “Those should fit you,” she said. “I hope you
like cold grilled cheese.”

I didn’t take my eyes off of her face. The
boney cheekbones and crimson lips were all too familiar. Her gaze
was the worst part about her. It lingered like the first time I met
her.

Fudicia.

“You tried to kill me,” I said, remembering
how she had tossed me down a hill, unintentionally exposing my
human identity to Eric. It hadn’t even been one year.

Fudicia’s eyebrows rose to her hairline. “If
I knew who you were, I never would’ve laid a hand on you.”

“You killed Abby—Hannah—you killed her.” I
knew that much.

Her crimson lips moved from side to side as
she contemplated her words. A minute seemed to pass before she
spoke, “It was necessary.” The Light wanted to convince the Dark
that they intended to kill the third descendant, and they had
succeeded. “I won’t hurt you again,” she continued. “Consider me
your guard as well.”

So, she was Darthon’s guard. The Dark
suspected it, but it was a fact now.

“I have a guard,” I said, thinking of Pierce,
although I no longer felt his connection.

“That half-breed?” The words hissed out of
her. She wasn’t speaking of Pierce. She didn’t even care he
existed. She was focused on Eric’s guard.

“Camille,” I corrected as heat rushed over my
face.

“She’s useless to you now.”

My fist curled. “She’s dead.”

She leaned back as if she had developed
blurry vision and couldn’t see me. But her face quickly contorted
into a smile. “Sure.” Her voice was drawn out. “You can call it
that.”

“I watched her die.” I saw the pain, and
Fudicia was acting like Camille was nothing. Like her death wasn’t
even relevant to my life, to everyone’s life.

“We don’t value half-breeds here,” Fudicia
said. “You shouldn’t either.”

I studied her stance, searching for a single
weak point—a straightened knee, a relaxed arm, a bend in her
ankle—but she disappeared.

When she reappeared, she was sitting on a
chair in the corner of the room. Her hair hadn’t moved an inch. It
didn’t wave or react to her fast movements. It was perfectly still,
seamlessly in place. An illusion. She had been sitting there for a
while. She couldn’t move fast. She could only appear as if she had.
If I paid enough attention to the sound of her voice, I would know
where she actually was, and I could attack. But I forced my eyes to
widen, and I stepped back. I wanted to seem surprised. I didn’t
want her to know.

“I wouldn’t try to fight me just yet,”
Fudicia said, but her voice was close to me. “I’m not here to fight
you.” She stood to my left.

“I don’t trust you,” I managed, wanting her
to speak again.

“I don’t expect you to,” she said, but her
next sentence was a contradiction, “I’m here to answer your
questions, Jess.”

My name should’ve never left her lips.

I reached out, and my fingers wrapped around
her bicep. As soon as I touched her, she appeared where I knew she
actually was. Her illusion melted away, but I couldn’t guess her
next movements. She bent down, twisted her torso, and tore her arm
out of my hand. Even then, she never hit me, but her bottom lip
hung open.

I kept my hands up. “Don’t think you can
trick me.”

“I didn’t think I could,” she said, but she
stepped back only to step back again. Her back was practically
against the door. “I just wanted to see.”

“See what?” I snapped, fighting the urge to
slap the grin off her face. She hadn’t been testing me. She
couldn’t have been. She only wanted to seem that way. “Everything
is an illusion to you people.”

“You people?” she repeated, her voice rising.
“Is that how you define yourself? You people?”

Myself. Like I was a part of them.

I ignored her mind games. “Where’s Eric?”

“Please.” Her eyes rolled. “You saw how
pathetic he was in battle. How could you see value in that?”

“Everyone is valuable.”

“That,” she pointed to me, “is a
contradiction.”

I didn’t respond.

She raised her hands to mimic a traditional
scale. “If everything has equal value, it diminishes the value of
everything else.” She waited only to meet my silence. “I’m guessing
you’ve never taken Economics.”

“I’m not here for class,” I retorted, “and if
you hadn’t kidnapped us, maybe I’d be learning about that right
now.”

Fudicia folded her hands. “Let’s try this
again.” The words escaped with her exhaling breath. “Ask a valuable
question.” The harshened tone was as much a threat as her glaring
eyes.

“Is he alive?”

Fudicia’s palm hit the wall, and the sudden
noise made me jump back.

“How do you expect to save us all when you’re
focused on a stupid boy?” she screamed, her tanned face
reddening.

Save them all? I was about to ask what she
meant, but I couldn’t keep my concentration for long because
Fudicia spoke again.

“What are we? Where do we come from?” she
used the questions as an example. “Who killed your parents?”

My heart leapt into my throat. “My
parents?”

“Finally,” Fudicia said as she sat down in
the chair. “We’re getting somewhere.”

“Who killed them?” I demanded an answer.

She pointed at the pile of clothes on the
floor. “Eat half of the sandwich, and I’ll tell you.”

I glanced down at the plastic wrapped
sandwich, but I didn’t pick it up. It had to be a trick. The Light
had no reason to change my clothes, feed me, or make me
comfortable. They had left me on the floor, after all, and Eric was
unconscious. I knew he was alive. I could feel his heartbeat
residing in my own, but it was slower than it should’ve been. He
was weak. I wasn’t. I wanted to hear he was alive, and I wanted to
know who killed my parents. Every part of me wanted to know
everything, but no part of me trusted the woman who had killed
Hannah Blake, Eric’s previous girlfriend.

“It’s not poisoned, Jess,” Fudicia spoke as
if she guessed my thoughts.

“Why are you feeding me, then?”

“Well, we can’t exactly let you starve.” She
reminded me of what Darthon had said.

If I died, he died. Would he also go hungry
if I did? Would he get sick? Would he go mad? The possibilities
filled my mind, but all I wanted to do was tell the elders of the
Dark. The thought of the Dark grounded me.

“You can’t keep us here forever,” I said,
refusing to pick up the food. “Someone will know we’re missing. My
parents, my friends, the school—”

“The Dark already covered it up,” she said.
“You took a trip with Eric’s family. Your parents, too.” Her tone
turned harsh. “I suppose it had to do with your sudden
engagement.”

The lie didn’t even require a massive
illusion. The Dark only had to put one on my parents—the ones that
hadn’t died in a car wreck, the ones who hadn’t been murdered
fleeing town. The Dark suspected the Light had something to do with
it, but there was no proof. Not until now.

“Eat,” she ordered again.

This time, I obeyed.

I picked up the sandwich, sat down in the
other chair, and took a few bites. The grilled cheese was greasy,
and every bite made me thirstier than the bite before it. I
struggled to swallow as I ate, and Fudicia watched, making sure
every bite was consumed. My stomach twisted as if I would throw up,
and it didn’t stop twisting even when I finished. I dropped the
plastic on the floor, and I grabbed the sides of my seat. “Tell
me.”

Her lips arched like her brow did. “Tell you
what?”

“Who killed my parents?”

“My parents killed your parents.”

Her answer threatened my nauseous
stomach.

Fudicia leaned back. “Their legacy is how I
became Darthon’s guard.”

This time, her words made me vomit. I bent
over, and the liquid fell out of me like it had been waiting to
escape all along. My throat burned. My head spun. I couldn’t
breathe.

“Fantastic,” Fudicia muttered as her heels
clicked across the ground. She had stood up, and she was heading
for the door. “Darthon isn’t as patient as I am,” she spoke as she
opened the door. “Remember that when he comes to see you.”

I managed to look up so I could see the
hallway. The walls were red velvet, the floors were wood, the
lighting was golden, and everything was as bright as fire would
be.

“Oh,” she continued, leaning back in one last
second before she left. “I suggest you clean yourself up.”

13

The unbearable pain was only bearable because
Urte had taught me to ignore it. When I woke up, my arm was split,
my leg shattered, my stomach ripped, my skin torn into nothing but
shreds. I grew used to the taste of my own blood—it was impossible
not to. It was the closest thing I had to water in a day. Maybe
two. Maybe three. I didn’t know how long I had been in the Light
realm, but I didn’t think I would leave soon. The breaking floor
had grown into me, or I had grown into the cracks. I didn’t know.
But my body smothered into the destruction of it all. It was the
destruction of me.

Just as I began to move, I stopped
myself.

The door opened, flooding the once dim prison
with a blinding light. My reflexes closed my eyes, but I only kept
them shut because I didn’t want them to know I was awake. I would
stay unconscious in their eyes for as long as possible. I didn’t
want to die again. But with every beat of my heart came a pounding
footstep, closer and closer, until the person stood next to me. I
heard their clothes shift as they bent down, but their knees didn’t
pop. It wasn’t Darthon.

“You awake yet, useless?” the boy asked.

I didn’t respond, but I felt his fingertips
brush against my eyelashes.

When my eyes flinched, I knew it was coming.
He kicked me, and a groan escaped my lungs. I couldn’t hide it
anymore. My eyes opened to a boy standing above me. His different
colored irises were the first thing I recognized. He was the
half-breed Fudicia toted around like a handbag.

When he kicked me across the face, he spoke
again, “That’s for the time you broke my jaw.”

To keep my mind off the pain, I focused on
that night. It was when I found out Jessica’s identity. Fudicia
hadn’t cared I attacked him at all.

“I didn’t break your jaw,” I managed. “I
dislocated it.”