Dark Light (The Dark Light Series) (42 page)

I begin to make my way to my room when Chris’s voice stops me up short. “Is there anything we can do to change your mind?”

I turn to look at him through watery eyes. He looks so solemn, so weary. Because of me. I shake my head. “Just be here.”

I grab my bag and retreat to the solace of my childhood bedroom. Now I wish I would have just gone to the Broadmoor with Dorian to escape this fiasco. It’s bad enough that the Dark have resorted to delivering threats to our home, but the fact that I’ve frightened my parents is unforgivable. I can’t even begin to comprehend how I caused those bulbs to break. Could I be a danger to them? And to other innocent people? Is anyone truly safe around me?

Under normal circumstances, I would call Jared and drown my sorrows in cold beer and curly fries, but now that our friendship has done a complete 180, there’s no one I would rather see than Dorian. I pick up my cell phone and scroll down to retrieve his number. No. I shouldn’t. While he may be an effective distraction, things have been getting a bit too precarious between us. I’m in love with him, I can’t deny that. But can I trust him? And even if I can’t, can I really turn away from him after falling for him so hard?

I toss my phone onto my bed and sigh loudly. Until I know for sure that Dorian has my best interests at heart, I have to be smart. I have to ask him. Time to put my big girl panties on and face the giant elephant that’s been suffocating me with its annoying presence. This is a conversation that can’t be had over the phone. No, I have to look him in his mesmerizing ice blue eyes when I ask him to tell me what he is. And whatever that truth may be, I have to either deal with it and accept him wholeheartedly, or I have to walk away from the one man who has shown me more passion than I could ever imagine. The outcome may crush my heart and kill my spirit completely but continuing down this path of denial could very well get us both murdered.

As the week drones on, I engulf myself with studying for finals and tying up loose ends at work before resigning. My parents are more attentive than ever, calling and checking up on me every other hour. Lucky for them, I’m taking the threats more seriously now that it has literally hit home. Plus I want to ensure them that I am still the same old Gabs, and have been making more of an effort to spend time with them. Seeing them so afraid of me was eye-opening. I never want them to experience that type of fear again.

The bright spot of the past few days was seeing Dorian each evening during my break at work. He’d meet me at our little table at Starbucks, his sexy smirk, my favorite latte, and an espresso brownie in tow. Knowing that a mall coffee shop is the last place to have such a crucial, delicate conversation, I’ve planned to broach the subject Saturday night after Morgan’s party. I still don’t know how to even word it and couldn’t imagine just simply asking him out of the blue. And what if my suspicions are wrong? What if he laughs in my face? Not to mention, it would surely indicate my true identity. I only have two days to figure it out, and though I’ve been racking my brain, there just doesn’t seem to be a tactful way to present such a sensitive subject.

Since it’s Thursday night and I usually head over to Dorian’s suite after work, I feel oddly out of place sitting on the couch watching television with my parents. It used to be a nightly ritual for us, yet now I feel like an outsider, an intruder in their home. I could have gone to Dorian’s place but then I would have to explain where I was and who I was with, and being that they will see Morgan’s parents this weekend, I can’t risk any holes in my alibi. No, the comfort and safety of Dorian’s arms will have to wait another 48 hours.
Sigh.

“That is a beautiful necklace, Gabi,” my mom remarks during a commercial break. 

My eyes shift down. Shit. I must’ve been unconsciously fiddling with it while thinking about Dorian. I had been making an effort to keep it tucked away in my shirt while at home to avoid questioning.

“Thanks,” I smile. “Got it up at Breckenridge.” At least I didn’t have to lie. “Hey, guys, I’m beat. I think I’m going to call it a night,” I say to evade any further inspection.

“Ok, dear. You get some rest,” my mom smiles at me. I can tell she’s more relaxed since I’ve been spending more evenings at home.

“Goodnight, Kiddo,” Chris adds. I hate disappointing him and I can tell that he sees me in a different light since Sunday’s incident. Just another indication that it’s time to move out.

After a quick shower, I realize that I really am exhausted. Actually giving a damn about my GPA and worrying about Dorian’s admission has really taken a toll on me. I brush my teeth and throw on my favorite flannel pajamas, a welcomed change from the lace and satin numbers Dorian purchased for me. Sneaking the lingerie into my parent’s house would have proven to be a feat so I opted to just keep them at the Broadmoor where Dorian could enjoy ripping the scanty pieces off me at his leisure. I just hope he still wants to after I reveal what I am. Trying to shake the creeping feelings of doubt and anxiety in my head, I climb into bed, turn on some soothing, soft music, and quickly fall into a dreamless slumber. 

I awake to the smell of bacon and freshly brewed coffee, and for the first time in a week, I feel home. Trickles of warm sunlight filter through my bedroom blinds beckoning me to wake and greet the day. I stretch my stiff limbs and yawn loudly. I feel good.
Great, actually.
Sleep hasn’t exactly come easy since discovering that the Dark knew our address. Though I know they couldn’t penetrate the wards around the house, somehow they got to our mailbox. The question has been gnawing at me incessantly, among the other numerous worries. 

“Good morning, dear!” Donna exclaims as I enter the kitchen.

“Hey, Mom. Something smells good,” I say grabbing a mug for coffee. 

She doesn’t touch the stuff, and Chris left hours ago for work. She must’ve made a fresh pot just for me. After I’ve doused my serving with a substantial amount of flavored creamer, I take a seat at our little breakfast table and enjoy the piping hot brew.

“You’re just in time. Breakfast is served!” She places a huge plate of pancakes, scrambled eggs and crisp bacon in front of me.

My eyes grow wide at the mountain of food staring back at me. “Wow. This is great, but you know you didn’t have to do this. I could have just had a bowl of cereal. Besides, won’t you be late for your class?” 

“I’m not going today. I got someone to fill in for me,” she says proudly. “I thought we could chat. Catch up. I feel like we hardly get a chance to talk anymore.” 

I take the opportunity to drown my food in maple syrup before answering my mom. “I know. Just been really busy, you know. But once I graduate, I should have a little more free time.”

“Really? Even with the new job? Running a store is a pretty big responsibility. Very time consuming, I’d assume.” Donna digs into her bowl of yogurt and fresh berries.

“Yeah, but I’ll have help. I plan to choose a reliable staff that will be able to handle things efficiently even when I’m not there.”
Too bad Allison, the inappropriately flirtatious sales slore, won’t be included in that bunch.

“Sounds like you’ve put some thought into this. I’m proud of you. I didn’t know you were interested in fashion. I mean, you’ve been working at the mall, but I thought you hated retail.”

I munch my syrup-dipped bacon and shake my head. “I don’t exactly hate it. I just don’t particularly like hounding people to buy stuff. I hope to make it a comfortable experience for both the buyer and the seller. People are more likely to spend money when they feel at ease and welcomed. No one wants a pushy shadow following them around while they shop for undergarments,” I chuckle. 

Donna gives me a weak grin, though I can tell it’s forced. “What?” I ask with a furrowed brow.

“Oh, nothing,” she shrugs. “I just always flinch a bit when I hear the word ‘shadow,’” she explains. 

Of course,
the
Shadow. The organization of the Dark implemented to uphold their laws. And execute their punishments. My father, Alexander, was a decorated member of the Shadow. And when he broke their most sacred cardinal rule, he was put to death at the hands of his beloved brotherhood. 

“Did he try to fight them? Alexander? When they took him?” I ask meekly.

“I don’t think he did,” Donna says shaking her head. “He knew it would just be worse for your mother. He didn’t want her to get involved and fight on his behalf. He wouldn’t risk either of your lives.” Donna looks up and gives me a warm, comforting grin. “He really did love you. I remember how excited he was when he learned that he would have a daughter. You are like him in a lot of ways.”

My face instantly brightens with the thought that I could resemble my father, the skilled, cunning tracker that fell deeply in love with my mother, his mortal enemy. “How so?”

“You’re brave like him. I mean, Natalia was incredibly brave, but he had this silent courage about him. You never really saw him ruffled. He didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, you could say. Natalia was quick to react. Alexander was calculated, always in control.” 

Calculated. Controlled.
I don’t think I’ve ever considered myself as either of those. Maybe Donna sees something in me that I don’t remotely recognize in myself. But I have seen those traits. In Dorian. He is always so measured. Cool, calm, and collected. 

“Really? Humph. How else?” Now I’m intrigued.

“Your love for your friends and family. You are protective like him. You don’t want people to be hurt or uncomfortable. He was like that. He always wanted to take away your mother’s anxiety when things got difficult. He hated seeing her so distressed.” 

I could see that. I do feel the need to protect my loved ones. But who wouldn’t? I am reminded of the time when I had the meltdown in front of the Italian restaurant downtown. How Dorian took away my stress and pain. He was so caring, so loving.
He fixed me
. He protected me from myself.

“Believe it or not, you have his sense of humor!” Donna continues. “Unless you knew Alex, you couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. He was wickedly sarcastic. I found him hilarious, and you wouldn’t expect that from someone like him.” I can tell this trip down memory lane has put her in good spirits. I smile at my mom brightly, encouraging her to keep going. “And he loved music. He had the most beautiful voice too. Would sing to Nat’s belly, to his baby girl, every night.” 

To hear Donna affectionately call my mom Nat warms me thoroughly. They were close, all of them. Love was there. I wasn’t the only one who lost when my parents were slaughtered. Donna lost her closest friends. She has suffered so much in the name of love.

“You knew him well. Alexander. Wasn’t that difficult, considering?” I don’t dare elaborate.

“Extremely, at first. But I couldn’t deny the immense love he had for Natalia. No one could. It literally radiated from him. Both of them, actually. By then, your dad, Chris was in my life. He persuaded me to give Alex a chance. Told me I couldn’t hold an entire species accountable for the act of one cruel, disgusting being. He was right. Alex was a good one,” she smiles and nods. 

I imagine the four of them, laughing, talking, joking, being happy. Not unlike the bond my friends and I share. Though I can’t picture my parents’ faces, I can only imagine how gloriously beautiful they were. What I wouldn’t give just to get a glimpse of them. 

“Who do you think I look like?”

Donna narrows her eyes as if she’s deep in thought. “I’d say Nat. You have her eyes, her beautiful hair. And her smile. She had the most dazzling smile. It could literally light a dreary day. You have Alex’s nose though, and some of his expressions. It’s funny; I see so much of them in you. They truly live on through you.”

I can’t deny the fresh emotion that pools in my excited eyes. To know that I have a piece of them with me, that I even remotely resemble their greatness, fills me with joy and hope. Maybe I can survive this. Maybe I can persevere with their strength, courage and tenacity coursing through me. They sacrificed so much for love. Maybe I can too.

I glance down at my half eaten breakfast and try to blink away tears. When I look back up at my mom, I can see that she is fighting with her own moist eyes. A smile stretches across my lips. 

“Thank you for this. Really.” 

She knew I needed this pep talk. She knew I needed to know that I was created out of love and courage and goodness. I had been walking on eggshells, afraid of what I could be capable of, and she is telling me that it’s okay.
I
am okay.

I rise to my feet and clear my plate. “I’m gonna grab a shower and get some studying done. Thanks for the talk, Mom.” I mean it. Though my apprehensions have not completely dissipated, Donna has made them easier to face. She’s made me realize that I owe it to her, Chris, Natalia, and Alex to survive.

The hours tick by seamlessly with the help of the Dorian-inspired playlist on my iPod. When I look up, it’s already 4 PM. Humph. Usually studying is like pulling teeth for me, yet it’s been oddly painless this time around. I close my Astronomy textbook, and stretch my stiffened limbs. My growling stomach leads me to the kitchen, where I find Chris, surprisingly. He usually doesn’t get home until 6 PM or later. 

“Hey, Kiddo,” he greets me from the refrigerator. He is still dressed in his smart navy suit and tie.

“Hey, Dad. You’re home early.” I grab the loaf of bread from the bread basket and search the cabinet for the jar of peanut butter. 

“Yeah, thought we could all use a nice dinner out. Whadayasay?” He decides on a can of ginger ale and an apple, and looks up to smile at me, awaiting my reaction. It’s a welcomed sight, considering how tense things have been between the two of us.

“Sure, sounds good.” I opt for just a single slice of bread with peanut butter in an attempt to save my appetite. 

“Great. Your mom ran out to the store. She should be back shortly. We’ll leave in a couple hours, ok?” Chris is really trying to regain the seamless ease we once shared. His efforts don’t go unappreciated and I smile back at him warmly.