Darker Days (4 page)

Chapter Four

My commute from the office to home was a tough one—through the back door and up a set of narrow stairs to our apartment. The carpet was worn to the wood in the middle of each step, and the fourth, fifth, and seventh stairs creaked. I’d lived here all my life, same as Mom. The building had been in our family for generations. Once an old barn, the bottom was long ago converted into a makeshift office, and the upstairs, a living area.

The apartment was small—I guessed none of the Darkers before us had exceptionally large families—two bedrooms, one bath, and an eat-in kitchen. It was fine. Big enough for me and Mom, and as far as I was concerned, comfy. More space meant more to clean, and neither one of us could be considered domestic goddesses. We didn’t even own a vacuum.

Having nowhere else to go, Lukas convinced Mom to let him sleep in the office. Honestly, I was pretty shocked when she agreed. She had a strict
no personal involvement with clients
policy. Yet another thing that had come from her relationship with Dad. That was, until I realized she probably wanted to keep an eye on Lukas. Setting Wrath loose on the town would make her twitchy. I knew how her brain worked. She’d made sure I went up to bed long before she did. If I had to guess, she’d put multiple wards in place that would alert her to any funky business.

Despite having what was, for all intents and purposes, an ancient evil cooling his heels on our office couch, I fell asleep fast. I was in the middle of a pretty awesome dream involving me, some chocolate covered popcorn, and a nice quiet corner of a deserted island when a loud crash jarred me awake.

Throwing aside the covers, I jumped out of bed and sprinted into the hall. I skidded to a stop in front of Mom’s door and pushed it open a crack. She was safe and curled under the covers, sleeping peacefully. It was kind of irritating. The woman could sleep through an alien invasion complete with a marching band to announce their presence. Me? A fly farted downtown and I was up.

Another bang.

I took off down the hall, sock-clad feet sliding on the scuffed hardwood as I rounded the corner. The noise had come from downstairs.

From the office.

Lukas.

Taking the stairs two at a time, I burst through the door. I don’t know what I expected to find. Catch him doing something evil? Making the neighborhood pets go rogue? Maybe inviting all his Sin buddies in for a late night raid on the fridge…

What I found was him standing in the middle of the room frowning at the floor. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dark, but when they did, I saw his right hand was bleeding onto a broken glass at his feet.

He looked up. “I didn’t mean to—”

I walked around him and went to the hall closet to grab the broom and dustpan. While I was at it, I made a pit stop in the bathroom and pulled out the first aid kit and a roll of paper towels.

Once the broken glass was cleaned up, I nodded to the pooling blood. “Trying to refinish the floor with your guts?”

“I cut myself.”

“Ya think?” I motioned for him to move closer. When he didn’t budge, I grabbed his hand and pulled him forward. He was surprisingly warm. Not sure why, but I’d expected something cold. In my experience, most evil things were cold.

The glass had sliced open the entire center of his hand, and I was thankful blood didn’t eek me out. My best friend Kendra would have passed out by now. “What happened?”

He didn’t seem bothered by the gaping chasm hacked into his palm or the river of blood gushing all over our floor. Instead, he was focused on me. I saw him watching through the curtain of my hair as I cleaned his hand, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from telling him to look away. The scrutiny made me squirmy. I wasn’t sure if it was because he was technically-maybe-sort of one of the bad guys, or because he was so damn hot.

I was about to start wrapping the wound when he tilted his head to the side, eyes faraway, and asked, “Who is Damien?”

The question took me off guard, and I stepped back, dropping his hand and almost tripping on my own two feet. “What?”

“Klaire was yelling at someone named Damien.”

Impossible. That was totally impossible. There was no way he was here without me knowing. I took another step back and folded my arms. “There wasn’t any yelling.”

“She was yelling at him in her dream.”

Her dream? I had no idea what to say to that. It made more sense, but was a little creepy. “So, you can spy on people’s dreams? Is that what you’re saying?”

His hands flew up in defense. Tiny flecks of blood flicked out and splattered against the wall. “Not on purpose.”

“Not on purpose? What the heck is that supposed to mean? How do you
accidentally
invade someone’s privacy like that?”

“I can see the focus of someone’s anger.”

“See? Like a vision or something?”

He shook his head. “
See
is the wrong word. It’s like a whisper in my head. A feeling. It’s the thing I feed on.”

Yeah. That wasn’t
too
creeptastic. “Thing you feed on?”

“The thing inside me. Wrath,
remember
?” He rolled his eyes. “It feeds off anger.”

I bit back a smile. Cute
and
sarcastic—if I had a type, Lukas would be it. Too bad he was kind of annoying, and more importantly, one of the Seven Deadly Sins… I glanced over at the DVD player. Two a.m. Fantastic. I was going to be one cranky kid come morning. Might as well make the most of it and see what I could find out.

Sinking onto the couch, I tucked my feet up and gestured toward the ceiling. “So you go around spreading your mojo and, what, feed?”

“This is hard to explain.”

“So let’s simplify. You spit pissy beams and then suck down the resulting anger orgy?”

His mouth fell open, and for a moment, I thought he might yell at me. His right eyebrow twitched and his mouth hung open in surprise. Taking a deep breath, he finally said, “I don’t
spit
anything, and I’m not sure what
pissy beams
are, but I’m fairly sure I don’t do them.”

I leaned back and tried to hide a smile. The hotness factor went through the roof when he got angry. Definitely something to take note of. “Okay. Fair enough.”

He held my gaze for a moment before looking away. When he turned back, his expression had done a one-eighty. Smile in place, he said, “I missed this.”

My own smile widened. He was infectious. “This?”

“Conversation.”

I laughed. “This is more argument than conversation.”

“The last person I spoke to was your grandfather. I wonder…would it be possible to see him?”

The smile faded, and I sighed. “Sorry…He died before I was born.”

“Oh.” He sounded genuinely disappointed.

A few moments passed in silence. Lukas picked at the edges of the peroxide bottle, peeling back tiny bits of the label and dropping them into his lap. Wispy strands of dark hair fell forward, partially framing his face. I turned away, feeling a little guilty.
Stop staring at the Sin
! I had to do something distracting—something to keep my brain occupied. “What’s it like? Having Wrath inside you?”

He didn’t answer right away and I was worried I might have overstepped. When he did speak, his voice was low, and something about it made my chest tighten. “Like I said earlier, the Sin lives inside—we share the same space. I can
feel
it trying to push me out sometimes. To take over…”

He shifted on the couch and flexed his fingers and it almost looked like he was in pain. “Always here. Always crawling and clawing to get to the surface. It’s a constant fight to keep it under control.”

“But you said you
can
control it, right?”

Lips curling into a slight sneer, he leaned forward and said, “You’re not feeling particularly violent, are you?” He held my gaze, and there was something about his expression. Something challenging. It made the air drop in temperature, sending chills up and down my spine, but also sent little tickles wiggling in my stomach. Awesome and terrifying all at once. “It’s part of me, so it’s always there. A little bleeds into the air regardless of my control, and I’m afraid Klaire’s dream was spurred by that.”

“So then, yes to the pissy beams? You
caused
her dream.”

I didn’t know Lukas from a hell hole in the wall, but the guy looked like he wanted to scream. Taking a deep breath—he did that a lot—he said, “
What
is a pissy beam, and why do you keep accusing me of doing it?”

“Chill. Pissy—angry. Same thing. Now about the dream?”

“The anger was there already. Wrath just pulled it to the surface and intensified the feeling.”

He still hadn’t done anything about his hand. It was bleeding all over his jeans now. If he let it go much longer, he’d look like an extra from the set of 300.

I gestured to the homemade first aid kit on the coffee table I’d pulled from the bathroom. We had a dozen just like it floating around. My bedroom, the trunk of Mom’s car—anywhere it
might
be needed. There was even one stashed in the back yard under a faux trapdoor covered in leaves. Grandpa hadn’t been a boy scout as far as I knew, but he’d taught Mom to always be prepared. You never knew when a little triage might be needed. “So what did all that have to do with the glass?”

He set the bottle of peroxide down and popped the lid on the box, eyeing the contents as though unsure what to do with them. After a minute, he pulled out a roll of gauze. Without cleaning the wound, he began wrapping his hand. I guessed when you had an ancient evil living inside you, infection was the least of your worries.

“When Wrath feeds, I feel the anger. It’s brief—a few moments at the most—but it’s powerful.”

“So…you broke the glass because you were angry?”

He ripped the gauze and tucked the lose end in tight. “I broke the glass because
Klaire
was angry.”

“If anger is always leaking out, how come I’m not mad? Or at least annoyed?”

He shrugged. “Some people are more susceptible. For Klaire, the anger was already there. My presence just brought it to the surface. You are surprisingly even.”

“Even?” I tried not to laugh.
Even
was the last thing anyone would ever call me. Snarky. Impulsive. Destructive. Never
even
.

“Most people have at least a small amount of anger festering. In some cases, it’s deeply hidden but always there. You just seem…happy. Content.”

“What can I say, I’m livin’ the good life. Nothing to complain about.”

He smiled. “Your grandfather was like that. He was so different from everyone else. Quiet.”

“Quiet?”

“Peaceful to be around. Not a spark waiting to be ignited. I didn’t have to try as hard to keep Wrath at bay when I was around him.”

Peaceful. Another word never used to describe me. Poor guy. He was clueless. Totally cute—but clueless. “So you can pull anger from people who are already pissed. Can you make happy people angry?”

“Of course. But why would I?”

“Um, because you’re Wrath?”

His lip twitched. For a long minute we just stared at each other.

With a deep breath, he said, “I’m
not
Wrath. It may inhabit my body and cause certain…side effects, but I am still me. I still retain free will.”

Setting down the roll of gauze, he examined his hand, wiggling each finger in turn. Content with his work, he repeated his earlier question. “Who is Damien?”

“Tell me more about being human,” I countered. I was genuinely curious, but I also got the impression he didn’t want to talk about it. He’d pointedly avoided giving specifics earlier. Clearly, the subject was touchy.

He responded with a brisk nod. Feet kicked up, he stretched across the couch and rolled over.

Message received.

Chapter Five

4 days left…

I woke up the next morning with a humongous knot in the back of my neck, and some serious cottonmouth. When I got downstairs, Mom was already dressed and on the phone, but the shower was running. The couch was empty, so it had to be Lukas. Couldn’t blame the guy. It’d probably been a long time since he’d seen a shower—if he’d ever seen one. He hadn’t told us exactly how long he’d been in the box, so for all I knew, he could be hailing from the times of community baths in the local watering hole.

I poured myself a cup of coffee and sniffed, choking back a gag. Ick. Hazelnut. Couldn’t Mom drink normal stuff? “So what’s the plan?” I asked once she’d hung up.

She stood and took the cup from my hands.

“Hey!”

“I made the Hazelnut on purpose. You’re too young to be a serial coffee drinker.”

That was Mom. Always trying to enforce some kind of normal in my life. It was sweet. Silly, but sweet. Normal was overrated. One of these days, I’d make her understand that.

“I have a few leads to follow up on the Wells family, and some strange calls have come across the police scanner this morning. I’m betting the Sins are out and about. The quicker I find them, the better I’ll feel. With only a few days to hunt them all down, we don’t really have time to spare.”

“Four days isn’t a lot of time, Ma…”

“I know…” She pinched the bridge of her nose and glanced at the door to the apartment. “As much as I don’t like the idea, you’ll have to keep an eye on Lukas. Keeping him with me will only slow things down, and I refuse to set him loose on the town.”

Score! There was a history test fourth period that I’d been planning to skip. Now I didn’t have to worry. “Give me some of the leads. We can start digging around. Might as well do something constructive while I’m babysitting.”

“Oh, you
will
be doing something constructive. I’ve already called Principal Dubois. He’s aware you’re bringing Lukas with you.”

I froze. “Are you
serious
? You want me to bring him to school?” She’d gone batshit. “Do you have any clue how much angst and attitude we teenagers spew? It’ll be a nightmare! His head will explode. Plus—time limit, remember? I can do more good by helping you track the Sins. Or the Wells family!”

“You’re taking the bench on this one, Jessie. I don’t want you involved. This isn’t a standard case we’re dealing with here.”

“Bench?” I squeaked. She was only trying to protect me, but I didn’t need it. She’d trained me well and should know better. I wasn’t going to step back and watch her scramble to fix this thing in time—and possibly end up dead in the process. We always had each other’s backs. That shouldn’t change now. “You’ve
got
to be kidding me!”

“I’m
not
kidding you.” Her brow wrinkled and she frowned. She leaned forward and grabbed both my hands, giving a good squeeze. “Please, Jessie. Don’t make more work for me. I won’t be able to tackle this if I have to worry about my teenage daughter going head to head with one of the oldest evils known to man. Got it?”

Great. Guilt trip. Something all moms apparently took classes on. “Well, what about Lukas? Bringing him to school is still a mistake.”

“I’ve spoken to him at length this morning. It’s fascinating—how it all works. I don’t believe it’ll be an issue.” She shook her head, a faraway, fascinated gleam in her eye. “He has amazing control… If it looks like there’s going to be a problem, then come back home.”

“Wouldn’t it just be
easier
to stay home in the first place? Avoid trouble?”

She backed away a step and folded her arms. “Wouldn’t it have just been
easier
to study for the history exam?”

Busted.

…

Mom left before we did. I went through her papers, hoping to find something about the leads she mentioned, but all I’d found was a small pink Post It note that said,
Stop stalling and go to school
!

The first part of the day was basically uneventful. No teacher-student death matches or science room frog corpse fights. There
were
whispers in the hall about a small scuffle between the mascot of the football team and a linebacker, but they were both tools on their best days. I was betting their inner ass was more to blame for that one than rampaging Sin.

“Okay, let’s go over it again,” I said as we entered the cafeteria for lunch. “Who are you supposed to be?”

This was the fourth time since we’d gotten to school that I’d made him repeat it. I’d managed to avoid most of my friends, but lunch period would be a free-for-all. When we’d stopped at my locker to dump my books, I found three notes asking who the hotness was I was toting around. They’d be all over him like vultures on a corpse the second we sat down.

Lukas sighed. “I’m your cousin and I’m visiting from out of town. We’re moving here, and I was sent ahead to check out the school.”

“Good. And you’re sure people aren’t going to freak out? Start slapping each other silly with plastic trays?” By the time we made it to the cafeteria, lunch was almost over. Suited me just fine. The last thing I needed to deal with was a massive food fight—or worse—a multi-person spork duel.

“It’ll be fine,” he said through gritted teeth.

He kept saying he was fine, but he didn’t
look
fine. Shoulders rigid and jaw tense, he looked like a guitar string ready to snap. His head tilted now and then as people passed like he was listening to something, and every once in awhile his fingers would curl into a fist until his knuckles turned white. If that was fine, then I was the Easter Bunny in drag.

A few more steps. “No impending explosions?”

“I’m fine,” he snapped. “Being trapped in the box didn’t make me an idiot.”

“Someone’s a touchy Sin this morning,” I muttered, readjusting my backpack. I’d loaded the thing up so I didn’t have to keep stopping by my locker. By the end of the day, I’d be in serious need of a chiropractor. “Okay. Let’s get this over with.”

We wove through the crowd and settled at my usual table in the front corner of the room. A set of aqua blue eyes bordered by ultra thick lashes pinned me before my butt even hit the seat.

“So, um, Jess. Introductions puh-leese?” Kendra said, eyebrows waggling. She tapped the side of her tray with a neon pink-tipped fingernail while the other hand fluffed her blonde curls. She’d been talking about cutting her hair lately, but it’d never work. She needed it to hide the horns.

Kendra was a novice witch with some seriously bad luck—or lack of skill, as Mom put it. She’d been forbidden from doing magic after a spell went awry and she ended up outfitting herself with a small pair of black horns. She’d been trying to fix the horn on her car… As a lesson, her Mom made her keep them until she could get rid of them on her own. It’d been three weeks now and she still wasn’t any closer.

She bit off the tip of her carrot. “I tried to get your attention all during math. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were avoiding me.”

I shot a quick glance at Lukas. He was watching Kendra
with a blank expression. “I wasn’t avoiding you… I was just—”

“Not in a sharing mood, huh?” She pouted. “Can’t say I blame you, but…”

“Down, girl.” I snickered and hitched a thumb sideways in Lukas’ direction. “Lukas is a cl—”

“Hey, Jess.” Garrett Redding thumped his loaded tray on the table, wedging himself between Lukas and me.

“—own,” I fumbled. “Lukas is a total clown…”

Garrett didn’t seem to notice. He stuffed half a cheeseburger into his mouth and chewed noisily. Why did football players have to eat like pigs? He took a long swig from his Pepsi, then swiveled to face Lukas. “Where’d you come from?”

“I’m Jessie’s cousin. From out of town.”

“Lukas is here to check out the school. See how he likes it,” I said, ripping open the bag of Cheetos I’d brought. Steering the conversation away from Lukas was the best thing I could do. I popped a Cheeto into my mouth, and asked, “How’s your mom doing?”

A few weeks ago, Mom and I had tracked down Garrett’s MIA Dad. He’d gone to work one day and never came home. When we finally found him, he was in the burbs of Pennsylvania with his
other
family. Mrs. Redding had an idea her husband had been cheating—she just never expected to find an entire family. In the end, she was just happy to know the truth. And have proof. The way I’d heard it, Garrett’s dad made a cushy six-figure salary. We’d given Mrs. Redding enough ammo to take him for everything and then some. The whole thing had given me warm squishies.

Garrett nodded and downed the rest of his soda in one gulp. Thumping his chest twice, he let out a yak-worthy burp and said, “Copasetic. She wants to have you guys over for dinner. Ya know, to say thanks.”

“It’s no big. Just doing our job and all that.”

Garrett shrugged. His eyes lingered on mine for a second, like there was something more he wanted to say, but instead, he turned to Lukas. “Where ya from?”

“Yes, Lukas,” Kendra snickered, leaning her elbows on the table. “Where
are
you from?”

“My family is from Penance originally, but I’ve moved around a lot.”

Huh. From Penance? That was new information. Useful, too, if he was telling the truth. Penance was big on history. I was betting Marnie Phelps—the town clerk—kept records in the basement of Town Hall, along with boxes full of donations from days past. If Lukas didn’t want to share about his past, maybe I could dig up some dirt.

“Looks like you’re not the only new kid in town. Did you get a load of the new chick?” Garrett let out a sharp whistle. “Hawt! Girl’s got a pair that would drive a priest crazy.”

Lukas blinked. “A pair of what?”

Garrettt held both hands in front of his chest and pumped them up and down. “Dude, she’s fappable.”

Kendra groaned and flicked a perfectly manicured finger at him. “Classy. Real classy.”

Lukas closed his eyes and sighed. “It saddens me to bear witness to the decline of the English language.”

“New chick?” I asked in an attempt to side track them.

“There.” Garrett pointed to a gathering crowd across the room as a blonde girl sauntered into the room. “Hottie at twelve o’clock.”

At the other end of the table, Lukas paled. He gripped the edge of his seat and whispered, “She’s one of them.”

The girl was surrounded by what looked like almost every guy in the school. She was at the center, talking and giggling as the crowd hung on each word like she was spouting the formula to end world hunger. Or the cheat codes for Halo.

As if she’d heard Lukas speak, she turned and winked in our direction. The crowd reluctantly parted, and she strode toward us, working the cafeteria floor like it was a runway in Paris.

“How did she get away with wearing that?” Kendra whispered in awe. She’d gotten sent home on the first day of school this year for wearing a skirt that was
two
inches too short. It was a sore spot.

The girl’s too-tight black sweater dipped to a dangerous V, showing off cleavage that would make a porn star proud, and ended just above her belly button. The skirt—if you could even call it that—hung at least
seven
inches above regulation and bordered on sheer.

“Totally hating her right now,” Kendra whispered as
the
chick
made it to the table. I knew how she felt.

“I remember you,” she purred, settling beside Kendra, across from Lukas.

“You guys
know
each other?” Garrett was all but drooling. Eyes wide, he snapped his fingers in front of Lukas’ face. “Lukas. Dude. Introductions.”

“We know each other
very
well—though we’ve never been
formally
introduced. I’m Vida.” She giggled, and I instantly wanted to crack her in the jaw. “At the moment, anyway.”

She held out her hand, but Lukas didn’t take it. In fact, he was glaring at it like it was covered in fungus. I had to bite down hard on my tongue to keep from laughing at his expression.

She didn’t seem to take it personally. Withdrawing her hand, she tugged the edge of her shirt, pulling it tighter around the chest area. “Are you enjoying yourself? This place is a feast, isn’t it?”

Garrett, who was obviously floored by Lukas’ lack of interest, leaned farther across the table, eyes glued. Vida winked and blew him a kiss. I kind of felt bad for the guy. If this kept up, he’d be drowning in his own drool by the time the bell rang.

I snapped my fingers to get her attention. “Where are the others?”

At the sound of my voice, Vida’s smile turned arctic. For a moment, she said nothing. Finally, tossing her hair, she laughed. A delicate sound that grated against every one of my nerves like someone rubbing two chunks of Styrofoam together. “
Another
Darker? Really, Lukas? When ever will you learn?”

“Vida,” he warned.

“Relax. She’s much too boring to waste my time on.” Vida swiveled in her seat and scanned the room. “But that one,” she said with a wicked smile and a nod across the room. “That one has promise.”

Before I could blink, Hanna Fisher, head of the cheerleading squad and all around bitch, was out of her seat and across the room. She made a beeline for the geek squad, passing the jock table and catching the attention of everyone in the room.

I’d been going to the same school as David Ogden since the first grade. He was the ruler of the nerd herd and pretty much defined the stereotype. Head of the math club, co-head of the chess club, and dressed in clothing that would make a Sunday school teacher cringe. He had a serious acne problem and glasses thicker than the paperback growing mold at the bottom of my book bag. A really sweet guy, but definitely not someone on the Penance
Hot To Trot
list.

In short, he was the kind of guy that got his jollies from HBO late night and the Victoria’s Secret catalog—not real time action.

Imagine his surprise when Hanna came over, hopped in his lap, and started sucking on his face like he was Ian Somerhalder.