Dark Light of Mine (12 page)

Things had worked out, amazingly, although Justin had done something when he'd saved her.  She could almost feel him at times and wondered if she was truly in love with him, or if maybe he had done something to her when he'd pushed life back into her.

"Of course I love him," she said aloud.  She'd loved him even before their first kiss.  From the way he respected her as an equal to the way he sometimes told her in no uncertain terms he would do something and did.

He could be headstrong, but he'd taught her to stop being so stubborn all the time and to listen to her heart.  He'd been such a silly boy at first but had grown into a man—one who would stand up to bullies for his friends and never hesitate to protect those he loved.  Maybe he wasn't the best planner in the world, but his heart was always in the right place.  And he had a great ass. 

A smile touched her lips.

Who wouldn't love a man like that? 
Stop questioning your heart.  He almost sacrificed his life's blood for you.  Treasure him.

She reached the end of the driveway and listened.  No alarm.  No rustle of leaves or encroaching body heat to indicate Leia had finally come to and given the order to bring in her rebellious daughter.  Worry stabbed Elyssa.  Had she miscalculated and hurt her mom?  Really injured her badly enough she might be dying right now?  Elyssa knew how to hit properly.  She could disable a person, completely incapacitate them, or kill if need be.  She'd hit her mother just right, she felt certain of it.  But the one percent of doubt multiplied in her head.

Doubt kills hope.  Hope is the light that leads to victory against all odds.
  Her Art of War instructor, Victor Mazin, an old one-eyed human was full of crap like that.  Then again, that crap usually helped her through times like this and filled her with the resolve to move forward.

The urge to turn around and go back nearly halted her forward progress but she forced herself onward, reciting mantra in her head.  She'd set out on this path and now it was her duty to complete it.  Finding Justin was the first order of things.  He should be back at Shelton's by now.  She pulled out her smartphone and retrieved the GPS coordinates for his hideaway.  Listened for a moment more to see if she was being followed.  When she heard nothing, she zipped down the road a mile, stopping at an abandoned gas station and entering the garage through a broken back door.

Vandals had broken most of the glass from the windows but none of them had been strong enough to lift the metal plate over the oil-changing pit underneath the car lifts or bright enough to find where she'd relocated the button to the hydraulic lift.  She leapt up to the rafters and reached inside a vent, pressing the "Up" button on the control she'd fastened there.  One of the lifts rumbled into action, hydraulic pumps thrumming as the unit ascended, taking a thick metal plate with it.  Once it was fully up, Elyssa dropped to the floor and entered the pit.  She picked up the long ten by twelve piece of lumber stowed there and propped it against the lip of the pit.

The old Harley she'd hidden here had half a tank of fuel left and started on the first try.  She'd ridden it almost a month ago, so no surprise there.  She guided it up the wooden ramp and parked it, the new muffler on it making only the slightest of rumbles.  Some would call it sacrilege to silence a Harley, but her brother Michael had helped her with it, agreeing one could still ride in perfect style without all the noise.

After closing the oil pit, Elyssa hopped on the motorcycle and guided it through the broken down back door on the garage.  She activated the GPS on her phone and took off for Shelton's place.  Soon she'd be back with Justin and the world would feel right again.

Chapter 11

I heard screaming.  Roaring.  Growling.  The first image I saw was a wooden-beamed ceiling.  Or at least it looked like a ceiling.  My eyesight was blurry, like looking through a filthy window only muddying the view worse when you try to wipe it clean with a sleeve.  The roaring grew louder.  Something wooden crashed against a solid object and glass shattered.

"My house!" a female cried out.

I tried to move but found my arms and legs completely immobile.  I could barely lift my head.  It felt like a lead weight and resisted, but I finally raised it enough to peer between my feet.  A massive black wolf growled at something.  A huge ebony paw lashed out at the wolf's muzzle but it ducked away, its silvery eyes locked onto whatever was assailing it.

Ryland.  That's Ryland
.  My thoughts churned like dirty water, but I slowly recalled who and what the large wolf was.  Why was I tied down?  A creature yowled.  Claws scrabbled across a hard surface.  A thud and another yowl followed, and a sleek black figure appeared, slipping and sliding, before crashing into the frame holding me tight.

The world cartwheeled.  My face missed the floor by inches before the cot came to rest at an odd angle against the wall, giving me a view of the destruction.  The quaint room was a mess.  Splintered wood littered the floor.  A large area rug woven with birds, trees, and a cheerful outdoors scene lay shredded and tattered.  Deep claw marks marred the hardwood floors.

The reason for the carnage was clear.  A huge panther prowled the perimeter of the room while Ryland in wolf form watched it with wary silver eyes.  The panther coiled and leapt with lightning speed, so fast my slowly improving eyesight could hardly follow the streak of black.  Ryland dodged at the last moment, his huge jaws widening and closing down as razor claws caught him in the back.

Blood oozed from his right shoulder, but he had the prize.  The panther's throat was in his grasp.

"No!" I wheezed, sounding like an old man on his last minutes of life.

The wolf's ears perked up and a pretty young woman stepped into view from the shelter of a doorway across the room.

"He's awake!" she said.  "My god, he survived."

The panther screamed, its claws striking blindly at the wolf, some shredding furrows of fur from his coat, but Ryland rotated, keeping his teeth clamped firmly across the panther's throat until it screamed one last time and went limp.  The horrid sound of cracking, popping bones and rearranging flesh filled the room.  The panther's fur melted away into fair skin, and its sleek muzzle melted into a human face with a mane of grungy blonde hair.

Ryland released his hold on Stacey as she lay sobbing on the floor.  Then he howled, triumphant.

I couldn't keep my eyes open a second longer and the darkness claimed me.

Something warm pressed against me.  Soft sweetness pressed against my lips.  Elyssa?  She was here.  My dark light.  My hands reached around the soft curves of her body and I hugged her close, pressing her lips to mine and drawing in her scent.  Except…the familiar scent wasn't Elyssa.

I opened my eyes and stared into amber ones as Stacey pulled back, a gentle smile on her lips.

"You're awake, my sweet," she said, her British accent thick as honey.  "Oh, Justin, my knight, my hero.  You saved me."

I tried to sit up, but my muscles screamed with burning agony.  The diamond fiber was gone.  "It worked," I said.  "Meghan was able to cure you."

"I awoke after the queerest dream."  Stacey grabbed a nearly destroyed pillow from the floor and fluffed it before propping up my head.  "And I was in a strange place.  Thinking I had been captured, I immediately shifted."

"And fought Ryland."  A feather drifted toward my nose, a casualty of the war-torn pillow.  I blew at it before it made me sneeze.  Considering how terrible I felt, a sneeze would probably put me in a coma.

"Yes, the bloody stinking wolf."  She shuddered.  "Disgusting creatures."

"Hey, he helped me save you."

She glared across the room where Ryland and Meghan sat at a circular wooden table that had somehow survived the battle.  "How in the world did you end up in his company?"

"He's a Templar."

"How can you be so bloody daft, Justin?"  Stacey peppered my cheeks with kisses.  "And still so delicious?"  She sighed.  "A girl can't even get a tiny bit of rest without you dragging her off into danger."

"What happened?" I asked.  "When we found you, the entire place was destroyed."

She shrugged.  "These very foul-smelling men appeared, sniffing the ground like animals.  And then they shifted into the largest dogs I've ever seen."  She gasped.  "Oh dear."  Tears welled in her eyes.  "Oh no.  Marmalade and Dots.  Those creatures killed them."

Marmalade and Dots were the moggies Stacey had created to help me rescue my dad.  They looked like massive alley cats and were insanely strong.  But those black hounds were something else.  "They were hellhounds, Stacey.  And they were looking for me."

"Those wretched things actually exist?"

I nodded.  "My dad's side of the family sent them.  Either to kill or capture us."

"Well, which is it?"

I tried to shrug but fire raced up my neck when I did.  "I don't know."  I told her about Dad's death mark and the little we'd done so far.  I jerked as memory kicked in a detail I'd forgotten and my muscles spasmed.  "What time is it?  Is it morning yet?"

She glanced toward a window.  "No, it's still before dawn."

"I have to get to Trader Mike's and find Mr. Smith."

"You're not going anywhere for a day at least," Meghan said, coming across the room with a steaming cup of something minty in one hand.

"I have to.  It's to help my dad." 
And to find out what my mom is up to with those deadly spells of hers
, I thought.

"That's not the entire truth," Ryland said, his nose wrinkling.

"No, it's a guess.  I have my doubts about this guy, but I hope he can help."

"You stink like rubbish," Stacey said, her imperious Victorian-era British accent lashing out at Ryland like a whip.

"You smell rather nice," Ryland said with a wolfish grin.  "And you taste even better."

Stacey sniffed and looked away from him, nose held high.  "Stinking dogs.  Why don't you go sit like a good boy, preferably far from me?"

Ryland's grin grew even larger.  "You got it, kitten."

Stacey sniffed again.

"You're going to pull a nose muscle if you keep sniffing like that," I told her.  "And stop being such a bitch to him."

Her eyes grew wide.  "A
bitch
?  How could you insult me so?"

"Give it a rest.  He helped me save your life.  He killed one of the hellhounds."

Disbelief narrowed her eyes.  "I find that rather hard to believe."

"How did they get you?" I asked.  "Couldn't you outrun them?"

"They demolished the building right out from beneath me before I could recover from the shock of seeing them murder Marmalade and Dots.  I was dazed but managed to morph as they came in for the attack."  Tears pooled and ran down her cheeks.  "One of them had me by the throat.  But it didn't kill me, Justin.  It was as if the vicious creature wanted me to suffer from my wounds before I died."

Anger built inside me, pounding against my ribcage and demanding revenge on these things for hurting her.  But I felt so weak a mouse could probably whip my tail in a fair fight.  I looked up at Meghan.  A battle raged in her eyes and I could tell she wasn't over her hatred for my kind.  She still didn't like having me here.  Maybe I could use her disgust to my advantage.

"Can you at least get me on my feet?" I asked her.  "I'll get out of your house and your life.  I promise."

She remained silent for a moment, her eyes seeming to search my face for something.  "You said a lot while you were under, including some things I couldn't believe.  But now that I look at you, I see your mother's spirit burning bright in those eyes of yours.  She was never one to let the threat of death stop her from anything."

"Everyone tells me I look more like my dad."

She gave a nod.  "True.  But inside, you're like Alice.  Determined.  Stubborn.  But she's a planner.  She would never rush into danger, especially not weak like you are now."

"It's not exactly danger.  It's a nerd who likes comic books who may also be able to decipher something for me."

"Danger seems to enjoy following you from what I've heard."

How did she know my mom so well?  Her face sparked a sudden onslaught of memories.

A young girl opens the red door.  A woman screams.  A roar.  Crimson-streaked concrete.  Blood soaking into the earth.  A woman draws ragged breaths as her life's blood leaks from torn and shredded legs.  "They must be stopped.  But the others don't want to stop them," a female voice whispers in my ear.

I squeezed my eyes shut as the images faded and understanding replaced my confusion.  "My mom used to bring me here sometimes," I said.  "I was little and so were you."

She nodded, her face a careful mask.  "Are you remembering too?"

"Yes.  Something hurt your mother badly."

"Killed her."  A tear broke through her brave façade.  "And your mother would never tell me why.  Only that she would set things right."

"Why didn't I remember this until now?"

"She blocked your memories.  Blurred them from your mind.  You were too young to understand and she didn't wish you to be scarred with such pain."

"Your father?"

"He died two years before my mom."

"Who raised you?  Why do you still live in this place?" 

"My aunt.  She's dead now, too."  Meghan knelt by my side, her lips trembling.  "They all die, I'm afraid."  She reached the flat of her palm for my forehead, her face grimacing with what might be revulsion.  When she touched me, she flinched, as if expecting to feel the slimy skin of an eel.  "I'll help you remember."

White light flashed before my eyes and a dozen scrambled scenes ran backwards through the theater of my mind.  Colors, sounds, and my sense of touch ran together in a churning mess.  I couldn't make heads or tails of anything.  Then a hand seemed to wave across my face, clearing my unfocused senses like windshield wipers across foggy glass.

Someone held my hand.  I looked up into the blue eyes of my mom as she towered over me like a giant.  She focused on the red door ahead.  Walked to it and knocked.  A girl a few years old than me answered.