Dark Light (The Dark Light Series) (35 page)

“Don’t you think it’s kinda soon for Jared to be inviting her on trips? I mean, damn! They just met a week ago.” I pick up a blue dress that reminds me of the hue that Dorian wore before he left for Greece. The image of him in that beautiful color makes my heart skip a beat. 

“Well, yeah,” Morgan begins thoughtfully. “But how long did you know Dorian before you spent the night with him?”
Touché. 

“I just don’t see how that relationship makes any sense whatsoever. Yes, they may be physically attracted to one another...” I say, feeling my stomach churn at the thought of them being intimate. “But what else could they really talk about?”

“Look, Gabs, I love you, girl. You know I do. But you have to let this go and focus on your own relationship. Who cares what the hell they’re doing. You’re happy with Dorian, right?” 

“Yes,” I reply simply.

“Well then, worry about that,” Morgan says brusquely. My complaining has gotten to her and I don’t blame her for being snippy. All I’ve talked about is Jared and Aurora.

“You’re right,” I say somberly. “So, anything new going on with Miguel? Or was that DOA?”

“Girl, that boy has been blowing up my phone since I gave him a taste of this cookie!” she laughs. “The sex is good, great even. And we get along. I actually like him as a person. I don’t know though. He graduates next month and then he’s supposed to be getting some job at Lockheed Martin.” 

“That’s a really good job, Morgan. What’s the problem?” Chris even had a hand in helping Miguel land the job after learning he was majoring in Aerospace Engineering.

“I don’t know. It has nothing to do with money or status. I just don’t want things to get weird, ya know? I’m keeping an open mind about it. Who knows what will happen on this trip. We may realize that we can’t stand to be around each other for more than a few hours.” Morgan shrugs but I can tell she really likes Miguel. This is the most thoughtful she’s ever been when referring to a guy. I like this more sensitive side of her.

“It’s ok if you like him. Miguel is a great guy.” Secretly I am rooting for him; he’s one of the few men that have earned the right to be in Morgan’s life. He’s ambitious, loyal, and fun to be around. In a nutshell, Miguel is a catch.

“Of course, I like him. I wouldn’t have slept with him if I didn’t. But whether or not it goes beyond that is the question.” We both shrug simultaneously and go back to rummaging the racks. 

Morgan and I continue our hunt for clubbing outfits for Breckenridge. I’ve purchased the blue dress and a few practical pieces, while she’s snagged a few sexy numbers that are out of my price range. While we’re browsing in another store, I get the keen feeling that we’re being watched. It’s as if all my senses have been heightened and they’re picking up some unknown signal, telling me to turn around. I spin on my heel and scan the store floor, my eyes darting around rapidly. Nothing appears to be out of place yet I know something isn’t right. I extend my arm out in front of me. The soft thin hairs on the back of it stick straight up. The air in front of us has a shimmery effect to it, like the hot sun beating down on asphalt. I can actually
see
the air. I can hear a familiar murmuring in my ears yet I can’t place where I’ve heard it before. All I know is we better get out of here.
Now
. Something is terribly wrong.

I turn to Morgan, alarm etched in my face. “We better go,” I say with a hushed, urgent voice. “I just have an eerie feeling something bad is going to happen. I know it sounds crazy, but just trust me.”

Morgan takes in my anxious expression, my hazel eyes devoid of all humor, and nods. She knows I’m not kidding around and this is not the time for questions. She casually yet hurriedly puts the dress she’s holding back on the rack and follows me out of the store. We’re trying our best to keep calm, not wanting to bring any attention to our exit. If someone is looking to hurt us, they would surely zero in on two girls running for their lives. We try to remain as collected as possible until we’ve walked far enough away that I no longer feel the strange sensation. Once we have taken a seat in a quiet corner in the food court, I turn to face Morgan’s worried eyes.

“What was that?” she asks.

“I don’t know. I just got a really bad feeling something horrible was going to happen. Call it intuition; I just didn’t want to stick around to find out. Would you think I was crazy if I told you I could just sense stuff? Like dangerous stuff?” 

“Yeah, I heard of things like that,” she whispers. She looks up to meet my eyes when reluctance and doubt wash over her face. “My dad used to tell me stories about my grandmother. I guess she was some weird Vodou priestess who used to deal in black magic. You know, my dad was raised by his aunt so he wasn’t around all that mess. But he used to see things, really scary things that would haunt him at night. His mother was known for…,” she trails off. I can see this subject makes her uneasy, and I know now that she isn’t aware of what she is. “She conjured the dead.”

“Holy crap, Morgan! Are you serious?” I say, playing it up a bit. Nothing really surprises me anymore.

“Yeah. Really freaky shit. And once you open some doors, they can’t be closed. Before my dad was sent to live with his aunt, those spirits would visit him.”

“And after he left? He never saw them again?” I really am intrigued. Could Mr. Pierre be some kind of Medium?

“I don’t know. He never talks about it. After his mother died, he just acted as if she never existed.”

Before I can delve any further into Morgan’s past, a chorus of horrified cries rings out, echoing through the mall. Then right on cue, a stampede of screaming shoppers begins to rush towards the exits, many falling down the escalators and stairs, causing some to be trampled. Morgan and I both stand simultaneously, eyes wide with alarm. Something has happened. Several security guards and mall police officers rush towards whatever dread the shoppers are running from. It is just as I feared.

Morgan and I cautiously make our way towards the scene, maneuvering around petrified patrons so we can get a better look. We both know we should be running away from the terror, but curiosity has taken its hold on us. We look down the long corridor, assessing the scene.

“The cops are going towards the store we just left,” Morgan says mindlessly. Her unblinking eyes are dazed with fright.

“I know.”

A police officer steps out among the crowd and waves his hands wildly. “I need everyone to back up! No one beyond this point!” he shouts, trying to block off the perimeter of the store from onlookers. 

I spot a young looking security guard who looks almost green with disgust. His face is familiar and I realize that we graduated together.

“Hey, what happened here?” I ask him as he shakily sets up plastic cone barriers several storefronts down from the scene. His horrified eyes fall on Morgan and me, registering familiarity.

“Someone was killed in the dressing room,” he says with a quivering voice. “More like slaughtered. I’ve never seen that much blood in my life! It’s like someone ripped her fucking neck out!” he cries. Tears stream down his face and he’s hyperventilating. The poor guy is in shock.

Though there are paramedics on the scene, a frantic security guard is the least of their worries. Morgan and I usher the young man to a nearby bench. I take one of the smaller bags I’m holding and combine its contents with another purchase.

“Here, breathe deep and slow,” I say handing him the bag. 

The guard, whose nametag says Paul, takes the thin paper bag with a shaky hand and begins to breathe in and out in it. After a few moments, he begins to calm down, and the shudders have ceased.

“Paul, can you tell us what happened?” Morgan says with a calm voice once he begins to get his breathing under control.

“I...I...I don’t think I should be talking to you two,” he stutters. 

I reach my hand out and rest it on Paul’s bare forearm, and give him a reassuring pat. Instantly, almost
magically
, Paul begins to relax. Apprehension and fear roll right off his shoulders and his breathing has returned to normal.
Holy shit!

“It’s ok,” I coo. “You can trust us.”

Paul’s once terror-stricken brown eyes meet mine and he nods his head robotically. “Yes. I can.”

“Now why don’t you tell us what you saw,” I say with a level, soothing voice. Morgan is looking on questioningly, unsure of what to make of this odd exchange and the sudden shift in Paul’s resolve.

“I heard the screams as I was patrolling. I was the first one there. Screaming girls were running around everywhere, crying that someone was hurt. They were pointing towards the dressing room. I hurried, expecting to find a minor injury. But what I saw was….inhumane.” Paul swallows loudly but remains calm. “Someone ripped her neck right out. There was a big hole where her throat used to be. And her eyes… They were so big and wide open.”

Hearing enough, I release my hold on Paul’s arm. He is still relaxed, though his eyes dance wildly, unsure of what just occurred. Even I don’t know what happened.

“I better get back to work, ladies. Thanks,” he says rising and jogging towards the other security officers.

“I think it’s safe to say you’re off early,” Morgan remarks as we make our way back to the quiet corner of the food court. “I’ve parked right out here. Walk me to my car and I’ll drive you to yours?” I can tell this whole ordeal has really shaken Morgan, as it should. I have to admit that even I’m freaked out.

“At least tomorrow we’ll be gone and will get a break from all this,” I mutter, as we make our way to the other side of the mall complex. Emergency response vehicles, police checkpoints and frantic onlookers have made it a time consuming feat. I would just leave my Honda here if it weren’t for us leaving in the morning.

“Yeah. That was insane.” Morgan looks at me with fear and question in her big brown eyes. I can tell she wants to ask me what happened between Paul and I but just can’t find the words. How would I even explain it to her? How
could
I?

Once we’ve made it to my car, we say our uneasy goodbyes, confirming our plans for the morning. Morgan looks as if she’s on the brink of tears, and I reach over to hug my forlorn friend before exiting her Mustang. This incident will forever change her, and my heart aches at the thought of knowing that her once carefree spirit will be hindered.

**********

“Oh goodness, Gabriella, I’m so glad you’re home! Are you ok?” my mom cries when I enter our home. Chris is right by her side and it looks as if he has been out. 

“Yes, I’m fine,” I say nodding frantically to assure her. It’s late and I’m sure they’ve heard about what happened at the mall. 

“Oh thank goodness! We thought…,” she sobs, holding me tight. Chris ushers us to the kitchen and puts on a pot of water to boil for tea.

“What happened over there, Kiddo? I went by to search for you but there were police barriers everywhere,” my dad says from the stove. He’s calm yet the sweat on his brow tells me that he was really ruffled. Donna gets up to help him with the tea, breaking out her container of secret herbs.

“Someone was murdered. In a dressing room.” I look up to meet their eyes, fear and exhaustion washing over me. “I felt it. Like someone was there. It’s like an alarm went off in my head and I got us out of there.”

“Us?” Chris asks, distributing mugs.

“Me and Morgan. We were shopping in this store and then I felt it. I don’t know what it was, but I just got this feeling that something was about to happen. I told her we should leave. Once we were away, and I didn’t feel it anymore, we heard screaming and people were running everywhere.” I turn to Chris. “She doesn’t know, by the way. She shared what she knows about her family, and she doesn’t know what’s inside of her.”

Chris nods, understanding what I mean. My best friend isn’t an immediate threat. “How did the girl die?” 

“They said it looked like her throat was ripped out. I heard it was gruesome,” I cringe.

“Oh no!” Donna gasps, shakily pouring tea into each of our mugs. 

“Someone was there for me. I know it! And Morgan could have been hurt!” Now it’s my turn to freak out.

“But they couldn’t track you. That’s a good thing. Must’ve been someone else there that you either came in contact with or had a little something in them already.” Chris takes a sip of his tea.

“So what are you saying? That they are tracking people’s powers? Or that they can pick up my scent if I touch them or something?”

“Yes, dear,” Donna chimes in. “That’s why the herbs are so important! You need to have them twice a day now. The smoothie in the morning and tea at night,” she says pointing to my mug. I take a small sip in response and nod. She gets up from the table and pulls a small plastic container from the cabinet. “Here. Take this with you on your trip, if you still feel the need to go. I really wish you wouldn’t. But if you insist, make sure you consume these twice a day. No exceptions.”

“Yes, Mom.” Combining it with hot water and drinking it as a tea should be easy enough to handle. 

“Look, I’m exhausted. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine this weekend. The worst thing I could do is start acting strange and draw attention to myself. I’ll be safe, I swear. We’ll talk later, ok.” 

Fatigue suddenly has hit me and I chalk it up to the trauma at the mall and my contact with Paul. Once my skin touched his, he was instantly soothed and cooperative. I’m reminded of the time Dorian helped me after my meltdown outside the Italian restaurant. He was so drained and visibly rundown, it was as if the process aged him. Could I be experiencing the same thing? 

After a quick shower to wash away the day’s horror, I lie in bed, trying to piece together a reasonable explanation for the senseless murders. Someone obviously knows who I am. I’ve received messages, demanding that I pledge my allegiance to the Dark. So why is someone brutally murdering random women? Why not come straight to me and finish the job quietly? Why draw so much attention from the police and FBI, and risk exposing themselves? It just doesn’t add up. Even Dorian said that he thought it was someone ignorant, someone that didn’t realize what he was getting himself into.