Darkness Brutal (The Dark Cycle Book 1) (30 page)

FORTY

Traffic on the 10 freeway is brutal as we make our way to the club, and no matter how many times I ask for an explanation, Sid’s answers aren’t clear. His head is obviously a mess, and most of his rambles make no sense to me—something about a rendering and the weaving of circles. He does explain about demon messages, though, and how they’re hidden until one is ready to be read. But the subject of the big doorway opening is really bothering him. He won’t even look at me when I prod him about that. He just says he has to check a scroll and to leave it be for now. Since I don’t have room in my head for any more looming tragedy, I comply.

“I need to go back to that beach,” I say to Kara, “soon.” The thought of seeing my mom’s ghost again fills me with horror, but Ava went there for a reason.

Sid shakes his head. “No, Aidan, not now, not after—”

“It’s not your call,” I say. “You can either help me or get the hell out of my life. I won’t let my sister sneak around and get herself killed.”

Sid folds his arms across his chest, looking irritated. “For someone who is so black and white, you sure do keep a lot of secrets, boy.”

“I’m not your
boy
! And my family is none of your business.”

“It’s my business when it’s got the potential to bring down my house.”

I shake my head. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, don’t I? There’s a reason that message mentions your sister. There’s a reason the demons want you two severed. What does she have to do with this? Why are you protecting her?”

Exasperation fills me. “I have no idea, okay!” I toss my hands in the air, feeling useless, done with holding it all in. “My mom did something—she must have. I don’t know what, but the demons have been after Ava since she was three. They killed her foster parents to get to her. They want her.” I nearly choke on the words as years of secrets, fear, and loss threaten to overwhelm me.

But then the air goes cold; Kara and Sid’s fear stings my skin.

“Demons?” Kara says.

Sid’s rage boils out of every molecule. “This is what you’ve been hiding?” he asks. “Your sister is . . . what? A Nephilim? Demon spawn? What have you done, Aidan? What sort of horror have you brought under my roof?” His volume rises with each question.

“I . . . No! No, of course not. What do you even mean?” I choke out, both defensive and confused.

“Well, she’s obviously not just a
girl
. Demons don’t want humans for any reason other than to kill them or have them kill on their behalf. If they want Ava that badly, it’s because she’s useful to them—she’s a piece on a chessboard, like you. Not just a simple eleven-year-old. Not even a Beacon or a Light, but something
more
. And anything trying to keep the demons away from her will be destroyed.” He leans forward and says, “That’s
you
, Aidan. That’s me and Kara. All of us!”

He’s wrong. He has to be. My sister’s just a girl. An innocent girl.

But I know that Ava’s not innocent. She never has been. I’ve known that forever, but I’ve never questioned why. I just assumed it was because of what she’d been through. But there’s always been something more, something I chose to deny.

“I’ve only tried to keep her safe,” I say.

Sid’s anger fades a little at my tone. He asks more gently, “When they came for her the first time, how were they stopped?”

My head fills with the memory, threatening to drag me under. “My mom. My mom stopped it.”

Kara takes my hand. I feel it, like an anchor in the storm, holding me fast. I look out the window and realize she’s pulled off the road. We’re parked at an overlook, facing the ocean.

“Sid,” she says, sounding as breathless as I feel. “Leave it. Please. Can’t you see it’s too much for him right now?”

I want to agree, to ask him to stop, to pretend like the last few hours, the last few days, were just a nightmare that I can wake up from. But I know I can’t run from this. Not anymore. So I ask the thing I never wanted to know: “What could she be?”

Sid releases a heavy sigh. “If she was born from a heavenly encounter, she would be a Nephilim, but if somehow a demon found its way into a fleshly form and mated, then the child would be doomed to Darkness. The truth is, only she can answer who—or
what
—she is.” There’s a pause, and he adds, “She’ll have known for a while now.”

“But a
Nephilim
?” My sister is the child of some angel? Or demon. Would my mom have really gone into something like that willingly?

“A Nephilim is actually very unlikely,” Sid says. “The woman would most surely die during childbirth, and your mother didn’t die when your sister was born.”

“Well
then, w-what exactly is a demon . . . spawn?” My mouth doesn’t want to form the words. My body is numb.

Kara’s voice shakes. “Aidan, don’t.”

But Sid answers, “It’s the child of a corporeal demon and a human. A female medium is usually the mate, since a demon can only be called up by and controlled by a medium.”

“Like my mom.”

“Yes, like your mom,” he says quietly. Then he adds, “I didn’t sense anything in your sister to cause alarm, Aidan. But my talents are so depleted. Normally I would have seen something like demon blood or angel blood in her.”

“How?” I ask.

“She would have a soul mark on her hip or on her back. And she would be able to move things with her mind.”

My chest constricts.

“But beyond that it would be a feeling,” he continues, “something when you’re near her, like looking down from a high perch—almost disorienting. As her sibling you wouldn’t feel it, though, since you grew up together.”

Kara releases a quick breath. “Oh, God. That’s what it was. I felt it when we picked her up that day. I just didn’t understand what it was. But it totally freaked me out.”

“But what does all this even mean?” I ask.

Sid shakes his head. “If she’s a Nephilim, she’s the child of an angel and a human woman. She wouldn’t necessarily be a creature of Darkness, but her allegiance would be questionable due to the unstable nature of their kind. But if she’s the child of a corporeal demon and a human, it would mean she’s marked as a tool of Darkness. She won’t be able to escape it. Eventually they will find her and take her from you, as is their right.”

My body goes tense at the thought, and my sorrow and fear morph into rage. “No way.” There’s no way in hell I’m letting that happen. They’ll have to slice me to bits to get to her.

Sid frowns. “Aidan, you have to understand—”

“No.”

No.

This doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t.

My mom thought I could protect Ava; she felt it. She saw this thing in me, whatever it is—this piece of me that’s connected to my father. It’ll save us. It has to.

Eric’s club is an empty shell during the day. The only signs of life are several delivery trucks with men unloading crates. Kara drives around them and parks in the back lot.

“This will only take a minute,” Sid says as he slides out of the car.

“Wait!” I say, scrambling out of the backseat. “I’m coming.”

“Aidan, it isn’t necessary.” He waves me off as he walks away. “I’ll get the scroll and bring it to you.” And then he disappears between the trucks.

I want to chase after him, but I’m also unsure I can take any more surprises . . . any more
knowledge
. All the emotion and urgency of what happened on the beach, the possibilities of who—and
what
—Ava might be, have filled my mind since we left there. And my mom . . . I saw my mom.

I hear the car door, and Kara’s beside me. “You okay?” she asks.

I stare at a flock of birds gathering on a wire above.

After a few minutes of watching them in silence, we spot Sid and Eric walking quickly across the parking lot to the larger warehouse in the back. Sid’s arms are waving frantically, like he’s reenacting the last five days.

I want to go over there, to hear what Sid’s saying, know how much he’s lying, but Eric’s head turns and he catches my eye, sending a jolt of dread through me. The look on his face is pained, worried. And I know they’re talking about me.

Then the two men go through the warehouse door, disappearing from view again.

“We’ll figure this out, Aidan,” Kara says. She stands in front of me and reaches out.

My skin pulses as her fingers graze my arm, but I barely feel myself respond through the panic in my head.

“I know this is hard,” she says.

“No. You don’t know.”

She stares at me for a few seconds and then says, “I want to understand, Aidan. What can I do?”

“Her birthday’s tomorrow,” I say. “There’s no more time to do anything.”

“Her birthday?”

“Every three years they come for Ava on her birthday. Year three, six, and nine, they came. She’ll be twelve tomorrow.” I look up at the bright blue sky. “That’s why I asked Sid for help. I was hoping to find a place where I could hide her, protect her until her birthday. But I feel like they’ll find us tomorrow anyway. It won’t matter how many wards I put around her. It’s inevitable.” The weight becomes almost unbearable as the words leave my mouth. The hope I had when this all started is slipping away like smoke through my fingers. Truthfully, it was never a
real
hope to begin with.

Kara moves closer, her energy heating my skin. She pulls me to her, rising onto her toes and wrapping her arms around me in a tight squeeze as she buries her face in the crook of my neck. “It’s going to be okay, Aidan.”

My hands respond, sliding up her back to her shoulders. The connection between us is a pulse, a steady urgency, warm and comforting. We stay like that for a long time, locked in, as if we’re both trying to hide. Seconds pass, minutes, and I’m so settled in the moment that when she moves I barely notice. Until her lips brush my neck, my jaw, turning comfort into something else, the pulse in my skin becoming a hum.

My hands run down her back to her hips, and I press her closer as her palms slip under my shirt, her breath coming faster now. My head fills with a million thoughts I shouldn’t be thinking.

I turn to find her lips with my own, and a voice breaks in, shattering the moment.

“Well, well,” Sid says, sounding more pleased than when he left us.

Kara and I pull apart, and the lack of her in my arms lets the ache back into my skin. She’s shaking a little, so I squeeze her hand before letting go. She gives me a tiny smile, but Eric and Sid are too close, and I don’t get a chance to say anything.

Eric studies us as he approaches, his eyes moving first to my mark and then to Kara. How much has Sid told him?

Sid pats Eric on the arm. “This man was kind enough to allow me a quick peek at the collection of scrolls I needed to see. I believe I found what I need.” He has a wooden box tucked under his arm.

“No problem,” Eric says. “Just remember, if you break it, you buy it, my friend.”

Sid smiles. “Yes, yes. We should be going then, so I can return them to you quickly.”

He gets back into the Camaro, and Kara walks around to the driver’s side. I move to open the passenger door. Eric comes closer, like he wants to say something to me, so I pause. But all he does is look at me—at my mark. His gaze slides up my arm to my chest, and then he looks me straight in the eye. It unnerves me, his intensity. But I feel no emotion from him at all. I see it on his face: fierce concern.

“Don’t forget your prayers, Aidan,” he whispers. And then he turns and walks toward the club, leaving me with the feeling I’ve just been handed some sort of warning.

“Spit it out, Sid,” I say once Kara’s pulled the Camaro onto the main road. “What’s the deal?”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Sid says, opening the box on his lap. “Answers, answers. You are very impatient.”

Kara looks at Sid in the rearview mirror. “I’d appreciate knowing if the world’s coming to an end tomorrow myself.”

“Perhaps I should’ve taken a few more minutes to get what I needed.” Sid tilts his head. “The two of you looked very comfortable together.”

Kara’s cheeks turn pink.

“You do realize that I could kick your ass and just take the damn scrolls, right?”

He laughs and pulls out one of the rolls of paper, only about four or five inches wide. It looks like it’s made of papyrus, the surface striped with tiny ridges, hinting at a weave. His eyes scan the faded writing, and he begins to read aloud. “
The six corners of Death’s realm
—that would be Sheol—
opened by any other means than blood is not passable
. I believe that means blood is the way to open the doorway.” He scans down the page a little farther. “
The gate is carved of bone and ash, stitched together with the sinew of . . .
hmm . . . I’m not sure of this word here.” He frowns at the script and then looks up at me. “This is a grouping of scrolls from Chaldea that I read during my studies under your father, but it was never fully clear to me, this theology of the afterlife, soul chambers, and whatnot. Seems all very speculative. Still, it’s difficult for me to recall the language—some isn’t even in a human tongue, I don’t think.”