Light Shadows (23 page)

“He’s trying to break her down, make her beg for his mercy. You’re the Divine’s golden child. Stavros knows he can’t actually kill you directly, so he’s trying to destroy your spirit. He’s betting on you giving up once you don’t have anyone left.”

Kill everyone I’ve ever known?

My friends, what’s left of my family…Oh my God. No one is safe around me. And even if there was a way to protect the people I love, what’s stopping Stavros from going after innocent people to get my attention? Shit, he could demolish an entire city block with a snap of his fingers if he wanted to.

“What do we do?” I whisper, eyes wide with terror.

Niko looks to the other Warlocks around the counter, mirroring their murderous expressions before giving me a stiff nod. “We kill him first.”

I STUDY EACH page of that ancient book until my eyes hurt, hoping to absorb as much as I can in an attempt to stay one step ahead of the enemy. When I have questions about the Oinos, the Dark house of wine, Dorian quirks a brow.

“Stop it and be serious,” I say, smacking his shoulder. “Yeah, I may be a lush, but I’m not killing anyone.”

“Like I said, you’re drawn to certain elements. Oinos is one of them. No, you don’t kill anyone, but think about how you feel when you drink. At first, you feel good. Free. But then a darker emotion settles over you, making you crave violence and rage. Now imagine those feelings in weaker-willed humans. Imagine little voices whispering in their ears, telling them to have one more drink, throw caution to the wind, give in to paranoia. That’s how the Oinos operate. And it’s not just wine. It’s all drugs and alcohol.”

I look over at the glass of wine Dorian poured for me, and push it away. “So that night at that club, Aria, when I allegedly tried to kill some girl, that was all the work of Oinos?”

Dorian shakes his head. “You’ll find that some elements work in conjunction with others. Your fiery temper and violent nature are attributed to Polemos—your bloodline. The house of Polemos were known seekers of war. They took pleasure in carnage and wrath. You’ve been a scrappy little thing your entire life. That’s why.”

He’s right—I have been. My hot temper has always gotten the best of me, resulting in more fights than I can count. Anytime my life felt out of control, I always felt angered to the point of violence. Luckily, Chris saw that demon in me, and got me involved in boxing, helping me to channel my rage before I got into serious trouble. So while I still saw red, I knew to take it out on the heavy bag, not on some prissy slore’s face.

Morgan flits into the kitchen, humming along to a tune blaring from her iPod and successfully distracting me from my tortured stream of consciousness. Dorian leans over to brush a kiss against my forehead, mumbling something about talking with the others and giving us girls some space.

“This place is pretty dope,” she remarks, head fully immersed inside the refrigerator.

I close the book and slide it to the side. Morgan takes the stool beside me and removes her earbuds, holding a bottle of juice and an apple. “Yeah, it is. Guess your “beautiful theory” was pretty spot on.”

She unscrews her bottle of OJ and takes a sip. “Yeah. Beautiful. And creepy. Really creepy.”

“Why do you say that?”

Morgan twirls the orange juice bottle cap between her fingers, spinning it on the countertop. “You know Alex has been working on a way to dull my sight, so I’m not constantly haunted by ghosts. Still…something in this house isn’t right. I feel this restlessness, as if something—or someone—is trying to get my attention.”

I turn towards Morgan, who diverts her eyes to the plastic bottle cap, refusing to meet my questioning gaze. I flick my wrist reflexively, and the bottle cap freezes on its side, completely still as if suspended by invisible strings.

“Whoa! What the hell!” she exclaims, nearly tipping over on her stool. I stretch a hand out to steady her, and end up freezing the seat too, motionlessly balancing on one leg.

“Sorry!” I say, reaching out to grab her before she topples over. Both the bottle cap and the stool fall into place simultaneously.

Morgan shakes her head before a chuckle bubbles up from her chest. “Wow, Gabs…you’re kinda awesome, aren’t you?”

I inhale relief and exhale my fear before shrugging. “I guess. Takes some getting used to at first. But it’s pretty cool, when I can remember to control it.”

Morgan moves forward, fascination sparking her big, brown eyes. “So all this time, you never knew what you were? You seriously never sensed that you were more than human?”

I shrug again, picking up the OJ bottle cap. “I mean, I always felt out of place. Like no matter what I did, I didn’t fit in. I tried to be
normal
—I honestly tried to be happy with being mediocre. But, I just knew something was missing.”

She nods thoughtfully. “And then you met Dorian.”

I lift my gaze to hers, my eyes squinting with a smile. “And then I met Dorian.”

“Damn. I heard of some encounters that are life changing, but nothing ever quite like this.”

My cheeks flame and I divert my eyes to my hands. “Yeah. He’s pretty special.”

“Pretty special?” Morgan trills. “Homeboy is loaded, fine as all hell, and he adores you, Gabs. I’ve never seen someone so…connected…to another person. It’s like he can feel and see everything through your eyes and acts accordingly. Like he moves his body around yours to protect you from feeling any pain.” She looks towards the wide picture windows that frame lush, green forestry and a small body of water. “Must be nice to feel that way—so loved and cherished. I thought I had something close to that once. Now I doubt I’ll ever feel that again.”

In that moment, I felt like the biggest asshole in the world. I had lost, yet I wasn’t the only one. Morgan was hurting deeply, no matter how good of an actress she was. When I ascended, I stole something from her. Her innocence, her buoyancy. I stole her life. And although it was inadvertently, I can’t help but feel responsible for stripping away any chance at a real future, free of all the supernatural terrors of our world.

I
did this.
I
caused this. Had I not chosen to be forever undecided, I could have spared her.

“I’m sorry,” I say, not knowing what else to offer.

She shakes her head. “Like I said before, Gabs—not your fault. You had no idea this would happen. And I still could have ended up like this. You know, my dad went through the same thing. Maybe it was just always in my blood.”

“It was.”

Tingles claw their way up my spine when I hear his voice. God. It’s wrong—I know it’s wrong—but I can’t help it. And while I may hate myself for feeling this way when he’s in my presence, I have to find out why…Why does he do this to me?

Niko strides into the room, so gracefully that I can’t even really tell if his feet ever touch the ground. The grin on his face is so devilishly alluring that even Morgan has to turn her head to hide her blush.

“What do you mean?” I ask, seeing that Morgan has been stunned speechless by his presence. Niko in his full glory is hard to digest, even for the strongest man-eater. Morgan is no match for his charms, even with him being an asshole to her no less than a day ago.

“It was in her blood,” he replies, stopping to stand across from us. “I did a little digging into Morgan’s family history. We always suspected that her grandmother gave her life to protect her from you, Gabs. But what if that spell wasn’t one of protection? What if there were rumors about you—a prophecy—that trickled down to lower forms of magic? That spoke of a girl that would resurrect peace among Otherworldlings and humans?”

I sit there at a total loss for words, unable to press for more, but thankfully, Niko continues. “I’m inclined to believe that Morgan was not cursed, but chosen. Chosen to stand beside you as an ally, not a casualty.”

“But how do you know that? Why would anyone choose this? To be haunted by ghosts every single damn day? How could that ever help?” Morgan asks, throwing her hands up.

“I don’t know,” Niko replies, shaking his head. “I don’t know what any of this means. But there are things happening—things that have happened in the past—that prove that this prophecy has been in motion for years. Before either one of you were even born.”

“I just don’t get it,” I whisper. “Who would do this to her?”

“We weren’t the only ones counting on your ascension,” he explains. “Other forms of magic—even the unnatural ones—have their own reasons for wanting you to restore peace among the Dark and the Light.”

I look up at Niko curiously. “Is that what
you
want?”

He holds my gaze for long, tense seconds before looking away. “It doesn’t matter what I want. I learned not to desire things a long time ago.”

There’s that sad inflection again. That hidden sorrow that sometimes rears its ugly head within a single tremble of his voice. I open my mouth to say something to offer comfort, but he quickly nods towards Morgan.

“Morgan, Alex has been working on something to help you sleep. You’ll find him in the study, getting his Harry Pothead on. Scurry off now, love.”

And just like that, Niko is back to bad jokes and brashness. Still, I won’t let him get away with brushing me off again.

“How do you know all this?” I ask, as soon as Morgan is out of earshot.

“I don’t,” he answers, turning for the door.

“Wait. You
do
know something. In fact, you know a lot more than you want the others to know. Like how you were able to get me to unfreeze Dorian and Alex. Spill it, Skotos. And I don’t want to hear any bullshit about you not knowing what I’m talking about.”

He drops his head and takes a deep, aggravated breath before turning back to stand across from me. “Fine. But you have to swear to keep this between us.” He holds up a hand and sweeps a finger in a circular motion, spelling the room to conceal our voices.

“I promise.”

“I’m serious, Gabs. Telling anyone, especially Dorian, could be dangerous for us all.”

“I swear, I won’t say a thing,” I say, holding up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

“You were never a girl scout,” he smiles, shaking his head.

“But I could’ve been.”

“No. They would’ve kicked you out. But I will admit, imagining you in that little green getup is pretty damn tempting.”

“Shut up,” I reply, rolling my eyes in jest. “Stop trying to distract me and get on with it. Seriously, Niko, how do you know all this stuff? What you did to me at the Broadmoor didn’t feel like Dark magic. But it felt…dark-dark. Like it was wrong.”

“That’s because it was,” he replies with a sigh. “After…Amelie…I started to search for a reason for her death. Why would I be forced into her life only to kill her? It’s like she knew that would be our fate. It didn’t make sense. I told you she was a Laveau, one of the most powerful Voodoo bloodlines in the world. After much…coaxing…I found someone willing to teach me. I needed to control the evil that took Amelie away from me to ensure that it would never, ever happen again. In secret, I spent years learning their rites and rituals, and even stumbled upon a few of their legends.”

“Voodoo? So like what Morgan’s grandmother was into?”

“No,” he replies with a shake of his head. “Haitian Vodou is different from the Voodoo that’s found within the piss-stained streets of New Orleans. But they all shared a common thread. You.”

“Me?”

“Yes, Gabriella. They’ve all been waiting for you. Everyone from the Celtic Wiccans to the Curanderos of Peru to the
Mo Phi
in Thailand. They had all been waiting for your ascension.”

I choke on my next word, my mouth suddenly bone dry. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “That’s the part that stumps me. That and…”

“And?” Shit. There’s
more?
What could be more disturbing than learning that you’re part of some crazy-ass prediction that spans across the globe?

Niko looks down at his hands, flexing his knuckles. “Each prophecy depicted you as their own form of savior—the chosen one, the embodiment of both good and evil. And while some details were lost in translation, they all explained that there would be those that would stand with you and fight. A human, birthed from ancient folklore…”

“Morgan!” I trill, sliding to the edge of my stool.

“One birthed from the sun. A daywalker or one that walks in the Light…”

“A Light Enchanter?” I frown, perplexed. “But…but I don’t know anyone from the Light.” My mind flashes to the attendant in the airport—Analiese. But that was back in Colorado Springs, and I didn’t even get to talk to her. Could she somehow play a part in all this?

“I know…I’m not sure how the Light are mixed into this. They’ve been very clear that they want no part as far as you’re concerned. Choosing to rally with you is cause for execution according to their laws. And now that you’re half Dark, I doubt any would willingly come within ten feet of you.”

I can’t help the sting of pain that his words inflict on my fragile ego. Great. An entire race of the Divine’s precious creations is choosing to hate me just for breathing? I haven’t done anything to them, but their kind just can’t seem to stop fucking with me. First they kill my mother. Then Xavier, although completely psychotic, came damn close to bringing me to the same fate just days ago. And the one Light Enchanter that tried to help me, Solara, was murdered trying to protect me.