Darkness Becomes Her (4 page)

“You are
not
my father,” she hissed.

Lachlan dropped to the ground and started heading over. Trouble. He knew it, felt it. That’s all he could think before it happened.

The man became smoky black and then transformed into a shape that resembled a huge wolf.

What the hell?

Lachlan pulled his sword as he ran, the familiar sound of metal sliding against metal.

The thing lunged at Magnus, knocking him to the ground. Lachlan screamed as he charged, raising his sword, wanting to draw the creature’s attention to him. Jessie threw herself at the wolf, clinging to his back with her arm in a choke hold around his neck. He shook her off, sending her rolling across the ground. The wolf, made of a blackness like thick oil, looked at Lachlan as he closed the distance. He raised a massive paw and raked it across Magnus’s throat.

“Noooo!” The word tore from Lachlan’s chest.

This was what he’d seen in the vision, only it wasn’t the girl who had done it. This creature . . .

Jessie screamed in agony as she jumped to her feet. She shifted to black fog, too, though she didn’t take a definite shape. She twisted, reared back, and slammed into the wolf, knocking him back from Magnus. Protecting him.

Lachlan felt as though he were slogging through mud, like a nightmare where you run and run and never get anywhere. The dark shapes fought, but the wolf turned to him when he finally reached them.

Lachlan swung the sword in an arc, slicing through the thing. Bits sheared off. The wolf reared back, grabbing at his sword. Lachlan jerked it out of his reach, then rammed the blade forward. Could he even kill this man-wolf?

Jessie was human again, her terrified face glancing at Magnus before focusing on the two combatants. “Stop! He’ll kill you!”

Lachlan felt something move through him, like an electrical current. The edges of his vision darkened, closing in.
No, not now.
This had happened before, on the battlefield of Culloden. He held on, focusing on the ridges in the handle of the sword, the cold air searing his lungs as he sucked in breath after breath. He held onto reality, and the darkness moved away.

He sliced, parried, cut, and all the while felt a strength, an energy moving through his arms, his whole body. It was . . . helping him. Making him stronger.

He grasped the sword handle with both hands, readying for a thrust, and saw—no imagined—the imprint of two hands over his. Not his hands, these were shorter, thicker, scarred and bloodied. Lightning sparked from those fingers and along the blade, arcing into the wolf’s chest. With a horrific sound of pain, the wolf became a long stream of smoke and retreated.

Lachlan stared at the place where it had been, then at his hands, which now looked normal, and then at her. She wore the same shocked expression as he no doubt did.

“What the bloody hell?” Too much to ask, no time. He ran to Magnus, setting the sword down and kneeling beside him. His brother’s eyes were open and unfocused but filled with shock and pain.

“Maggie! You’d better not die, you son of a bitch!”

Jessie dropped down on the other side of Magnus, gasping at the sight of the gaping slashes across his throat. Blood gushed out in a steady stream and he was having trouble breathing.

The smoky beast was solid enough to inflict this kind of injury. Lachlan jammed his hands beneath his brother’s body, about to lift him. Too heavy.

“He won’t make it,” she said on a hoarse breath. “He’s lost too much blood already.”

“No, he will make it.” He pulled off his coat, tossed it to the ground, then tore off his sweater and tied it around Magnus’s throat to stop the bleeding.

She squeezed her eyes shut. “I promised I’d never do this again.”

He took out his phone, intending to call 911. “Who are you talking to?” he asked.

“I can save him.” Her gaze was on Magnus, pain and indecision wracking her expression.

“Then do it.”

She turned to him. “The price is high. Maybe too high.”

“You take on the wounds? I know a woman who uses her psychic energy to heal, but she hasn’t died from it.”

Her eyebrows furrowed at that and she shook her head. “It’s not me I’m worried about. If I heal him, he’ll become like me.”

Like smoke. “And what are you?”

Her voice was tight when she said, “I don’t know.” The truth of that shone in her eyes. “I heard my father call it Darkness.”

Lachlan gestured to Magnus. “That man who did this?”

“God, no. He’s my uncle, Russell. He injured my dog, and I used Darkness to bring him back. Constantine was okay, for a while. Then another dog encroached on his territory and he went nuts. He had to be put down.” She blinked rapidly, agony in her voice. “What should I do? We don’t have much time to decide. I can’t bring him back if he dies.”

Magnus’s face contorted in pain, his body shaking violently. Lachlan felt those gaping wounds in his chest as though he bore them himself. “Save him.”

She nodded, removing the sweater and holding her hands over Magnus’s throat. Before his eyes, she turned to smoke again, coalescing, but she kept a vaguely human shape. The smoke flowed from the tips of her hands into Magnus.

Lachlan put his hands on Magnus’s thighs, keeping them from trembling so hard. “I’m here, brother. I’m here. Hang on.”

The smoke covered those horrible wounds. Magnus’s body stopped trembling, but Lachlan didn’t pull his hands away. His gaze went to Jessie again. What in the bloody damn hell? Her form began to lighten and she became wholly human again. The smoke evaporated, leaving Magnus’s throat whole. Blood still covered his ripped collar, but there were no wounds. Lachlan touched the smooth skin, stunned. Magnus was alive, his chest rising and falling. He was all right. They would deal with this Darkness. Relief swept through him.

Her eyes were open, though struggling to stay that way. “You have to get him out of here. I don’t know what you did to make Russell leave, but he’ll be back.”

He hoisted his brother over his shoulder. Magnus outweighed him by fifty pounds, and his muscles screamed at the exertion. She held out her arms, as though she could catch Magnus if he fell. Hell, maybe she could.

“I’ve got him,” he said in a strained voice.

“I’ll get your coat. And”—she picked up his half-lang sword, eyeing the long blade with wary curiosity—“your
sword
.” She grasped the leather-clad grip with one hand, the disc pommel with the other. “Follow me to the gate.”

There would be no climbing fences with Magnus.

She walked alongside him, vigilant of their surroundings, like someone who was used to being under attack. “He’ll probably sleep for a few days. That’s what Constantine did.”

“Your dog?”

She nodded. “I have to go. I’ll call Magnus’s phone, check on him—”

“Like hell you’re going anywhere.”

Her eyes sparked with fear and rebellion. “There’s nothing more I can do for him. And no way am I going with you.”

He shifted Magnus’s weight, wobbling as he tried to maintain his balance. “Still think I’m psychotic? This is what I saw, my brother getting killed. And even knowing it, I couldn’t stop it.” He let those words cut into him. “I assumed you’d done it, since you were standing beside him.”

“Okay, I give you that; you did see a vision of the future. But that doesn’t mean you’re sane or safe.
You
even said you were crazy, back at my apartment after you broke in and assaulted me. Which isn’t something reasonable people do, by the way.”

“I didn’t break in intending to interrogate you. I was trying to find out what you were up to, and you came home unexpectedly. So I took the opportunity.” He could hear the strain in his voice. They walked through the gate, and she closed it behind her. Just a few more yards to the parking area.

“Look, it’s better for all of us if I don’t go with you.”

He walked to her car. “Open the door.”

She hesitated. “Why mine?”

“Your vehicle has more room, and I can’t bloody well lay him in the bed of my truck.” When her mouth tightened, he pressed on. “You dragged him into this. Now I need your help to get him to safety.” Yeah, he was using the guilt card. He saw the moment she caved, though reluctantly. She lunged forward and opened the back passenger door.

He held back the groan as he relieved himself of Magnus’s weight. “We’ll take him to Sanctuary. Our home. Follow me.”

Her mouth fell open, but he headed to his truck. She would follow. Then he wanted answers.

Chapter 4

J
essie stood beside the bed, her gaze locked on the man across the room from her who had carried his brother through courtyards and doors that she opened for him. She’d hardly paid attention to the house, other than it was in the woods and down a long gravel road with signs warning against trespassing. People could do amazing things when they had to. When they loved someone. He cared about his brother, but he was no less scary than when he’d broken into her apartment.

Every muscle in her body twitched in preparation to run, escape. The brute had strong-armed her into coming here, but she owed him that because, dammit, it was her fault Magnus had been hurt. Her gaze drifted down to where he slept peacefully, unaware of what lurked inside him now. His brother had torn off his bloodied shirt and, while she looked away, his pants. Now sheets covered his lower body, leaving his chest bare. His brother had washed Magnus’s body but missed some blood caked in his curls. She stared at Magnus’s throat, with no trace of the fatal wound. It had astounded her when Constantine healed. Still did.

The room’s blue walls were the color of a twilight sky. The bed’s massive headboard had shelves filled with books, many about music or musicians. She saw one about Ginger Baker, and another called
Mad, Bad and Dangerous: The Book of Drummers’ Tales
.

Mad, bad, and dangerous. Yeah, that about summed up the man who stood across the bed from her, his hands flat on the edge of the mattress as he, too, seemed stunned by the healed wound. She saw the same mixture of fear and anger that she felt. He wore only black pants, his bare torso long and leanly muscled. His long hair was tied back, emphasizing his square jaw and arched eyebrows. The trimmed beard made him look like a pirate or, seeing the sword he’d brandished leaning against the wall behind him, a primitive Highlander. The movie
Braveheart
came to mind, all those delicious men in kilts raging into battle for freedom. That same ferocity and wildness glowed in his eyes as they pinned her like that sword.

“Tell me about Darkness.”

Those brown eyes told her she wasn’t going anywhere until she laid out her soul.

“I don’t even know your name.” A hysterical hiccup-laugh escaped her mouth. “It’s not like we’ve been properly introduced.”

“I’m called Lachlan. What’s in him?”

He knew her, of course, because he’d gone through her things, violated her space. “I’ll tell you what I know.” Her gaze flicked to Magnus. “But I want to wash the blood out of his hair. I . . . I can’t stand to see it on him.”

“Alright.” He nodded toward the adjacent bathroom, inviting—or, rather, instructing—her to go first. He wasn’t about to leave her in a position where she could run. He rinsed the washcloth he’d used earlier, squeezed out the excess water, and handed it to her. She settled on the edge of the bed and scrubbed out the blood.

Lachlan paced, jamming his fingers through his hair until they stopped at his ponytail holder. He wrenched it out and tossed it to the floor, shaking his head. As scruffy as he looked, his hair fell in shiny, clean waves down his back.

“Are you some kind of demon?” he asked. “I saw your notebook.”

“
I’m
not this thing.” She held herself, and the anger at his word
you,
back. “I’m a person, like you. It’s something in me. Not me.”

“Semantics. I saw you and that son of a bitch turn into something inhuman.”

She wanted to convince him, but that would sound like begging. He’d seen her notebook, her own personal search for answers.

He jabbed his finger toward her. “That’s how you threw me across the room. I thought something weird had gone on, but it happened so fast, I couldn’t tell. I thought
I
was mad. Then, back at the carnival, you turned to a black fog. What the hell are you?”

She heard the stretch of emotion in his voice. And the accusation. “I don’t know. That’s why I’ve been studying demonology, trying to find something that fits. I’m not evil. I don’t want to go around killing people.”
Way to sound like you’re trying to convince him.
“I used it to save Magnus, after all.”

“And now he’s some kind of monster.”

She bristled. “You had a choice.”

“Some choice, that or let him die. But now I need to know, what’s in him? Will he turn into smoke, too? Or some bloody wolf thing that’ll eviscerate me the next time we have an argument?”

She wrapped her arms around herself. “All I know is what happened to my dog. Constantine turned to smoke, though not completely. I could see it blur his edges.”

“And the man who did this to him . . . he turned into a creature. His
claws
were sharp enough to tear through flesh and muscle. Are you a werewolf?”

Keep calm, seem unaffected.
“I studied the werewolves’ myths. They turn into actual wolves, with fur, so no, I don’t think so. Plus Becoming Darkness has nothing to do with the full moon.”

“You’re not a vampire or a chupacabra or anything else I can think of. What you are doesn’t fit with any of the supernatural myths, does it? But a demon, can’t they do what they want?”

“I’m not a demon!” Now
her
emotion leaked into her voice. He’d touched on her biggest fear, that she harbored a demon inside. She took a deep breath, walked to the bathroom and set the cloth in the sink. “At least I don’t think so,” she added in a quiet voice, so soft she hoped he hadn’t heard. She glimpsed her reflection, hair disheveled, eyes bloodshot, dirt smearing her face. That was the hell of it. No answers.

She splashed water over her face, needing the coolness of it as much as its cleansing. After drying off, she returned to the bedroom, keeping her gaze on Magnus and not Lachlan.

Not that he could be ignored. “Tell me about the man who turned to wolf, this Russell.”

“He’s my father’s brother. He killed my mother and . . .” This would sound crazy, but he’d already seen Darkness. It wasn’t much crazier than that. “He took over my dad’s body.”

“Took over?”

She didn’t want to tell him everything about her life, but he wasn’t going to let her leave until she told him enough. That was evident in the stiffness of his body, the way he looked like he would pin her with that sword if she tried. She supposed she owed him that much.

“It happened when I was ten.” Every word about the events in the kitchen felt as though she had to wrench it from her chest. “Russell went to prison for fourteen years, two counts manslaughter. He got out two years ago, and now he’s hunting me down for revenge, I’m sure. Magnus . . . he just got in the way, being a hero.”

When she looked up, Lachlan was standing next to her, his hand on the wooden ball post at the foot of the bed. She took an involuntary step back. “It’s my fault. He came into the music store and gave me that smile.”

Lachlan nodded. “Aye, I know that smile. Melted you, did it?”

“No, it didn’t melt me. I could tell he was one of those guys who flirts with every girl. Usually I shut out guys like that; shut out everyone, really.”

“What made you change your mind about Magnus, then?”

She couldn’t tell him that she’d so needed to feel like a woman . . . a woman who didn’t have Darkness. “He hit me at a weak point.” She shrugged. “There was something about him.”

“He thought the same about you.” His laugh was more like a bark. “He had that right.”

That stung, even though it was true. “Your accusation that I was planning to kill him reminded me that I can’t afford to bring anyone into my life. I left a message for him, called things off.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “He was stubborn.”

“Aye, it’s in our blood. But now there’s something else in his blood.” His next question came out in a carefully neutral way. “Have you ever killed anyone?”

“No. What I became tonight . . . that’s all I can do. I have no claws. No teeth.”

“You can only toss a chap across the room, is that it?”

“Pretty much.”

He rolled his right shoulder, wincing. “It’s quite effective. You turn to smoke and kick arse. Russell turns to a wolf form with all the lethality of the actual creature. Anything else?”

She curled her fingers into the blanket. “All I know about Darkness is that, for me, it’s triggered by high emotions, like fear, anger.” The reason she kept such a tight rein on her emotions. “Tonight, or with you at my apartment, I didn’t Become on purpose. I never have. The first time I Became was when Russell found me after his release. I felt my body shift, change. Like being superheated. I threw him, then Faded and ran.”

“Faded?”

“Went invisible. That’s what the cross on my wall helps me to do.” She lifted the bottom edge of her shirt and pushed down the top of her jeans, revealing the symbol on her lower right stomach. He started to reach for the symbol but stopped himself just short of making contact. “A tattoo?”

“I had it scarified into me.”

“Scarified?”

“Carved.” At his horrified expression, she said, “I wanted to feel it.” She touched the raised edges, something she did a lot. “But Fading is the power of the symbol, not Darkness. I don’t think Magnus will be able to do that.”

“He can already go invisible.”

She stared at the tips of his long fingers, hovering close to her cross. His words sunk in. “He can?”

He pulled his hand back. “It’s more of an ability to blend in, to not be noticed.”

“How can a guy like Magnus not be noticed?”

“I don’t know how he does it, really. He’s been able to do it since he was a kid. That’s how I got blamed for breaking one of our mum’s porcelain owls. How do you become invisible?”

“My father sewed a wooden coin carved with this cross into one of my stuffed animals and told me it would protect me. He said to call out the word ‘Fade.’ That’s how I escaped Russell the night he killed my mom.” His gaze was still on her symbol, more fascinated than disgusted. She yanked her shirt down, feeling self-conscious.

“Why did Russell kill your parents?”

“I don’t know. My father was afraid of him. He’d told me his brother might come after him, but only said they had bad history. He showed me a picture of him, told me to be on the lookout. The coin, and ability to Fade, was something he’d taught me as a way to keep myself safe. The horrible part was, it was my dad’s body and identity associated with the crimes, and I couldn’t tell anyone that it wasn’t my father anymore.” That same frustration swamped her again.

He was studying her, an odd expression on his face. “Maybe that ‘something’ Magnus sensed about you was your vibration of living in fear. We spent our lives preparing for some bad man who was hunting us by living in remote areas and rarely going into society.”

“Really?”

“Why do you think we live out in the middle of nowhere? We finally settled down here, where my dad felt safe for the last ten years.”

“And was he?”

He shook his head, his gaze fading into the distance, the past. “No. Like you, both our parents are gone.”

“Who was after you?”

“It’s not important now. The bastard’s dead, too.” His focus homed in on her again. “Why do you bear the name of a dead girl?”

Her mouth opened, in surprise and immediate rebuttal. It closed when she saw that somehow he’d figured it out. “That’s not important either.” She started walking to the door. He blocked her way, his wide, sculpted chest a wall in front of her. “Move. I’ve told you everything that’s relevant.”

“
Everything
about you, and your past, is important.”

She blew out a breath and took a step back. “I took another identity, that’s all. To hide from Russell.”

“That’s why you volunteer at all these MDA events? You don’t look like you have it yourself.”

“Jessie’s none of your business.” She put her hand at his waist and tried to push him aside. He didn’t budge. The feel of his warm, bare skin made her pull back.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“I’ve got to leave town.
Again
.” The word came out soaked in weariness. “I can take you back to Magnus’s car, if you’re comfortable leaving him alone. But I have to go. Now.”

She ducked around him. In a flash he held the sword across the door’s opening at her face level. Her throat tightened. He wasn’t normal either, but no way did she want an explanation for what she’d seen on the security tape. Or while he’d fought Russell that night. Better not to know.

Lachlan’s expression was calm, his muscles hard and defined as they held the sword. “You’re not leaving.”

Anger bristled through her. “And you can’t keep me here. I told you what you needed to know. Magnus has my number. I’m sure he’ll have questions for me. I’ll answer them as best as I can, but I don’t know any more than I just told you.”

“Maybe you didn’t hear me. You are not leaving.”

“You’re keeping me prisoner? Why would you do that? Russell will find me here. I don’t know how, but he’s found me three times now. Keeping me here exposes Magnus to more danger.” She patted his arm, a fake smile plastered on her face. “And being the dutiful brother, you wouldn’t want that, would you?” There was
something
about Lachlan and Magnus, too. She’d felt a vibration like a soft electrical shock when they touched.

She ducked under the sword and stalked down the long hall. His footsteps sounded behind her, and then his arm went across her shoulders, spinning her around.

“You’re going to just run away? Again.”

She shrugged out of his grip. “Running is working for me so far. You make it sound like I’ve got a bevy of choices. I can’t go to the police. They’d only lock me away in the loony bin, and besides, they wouldn’t be able to help me anyway. Make nice with Russell? Not likely.”

“You can throw him, and he can tear you apart. How long do you think you can stay ahead of the game?”

“As long as I can. What else can I do?”

“Kill him.”

She laughed, especially seeing that he was serious. “I’m capable of fending off an attack, as you know. But that’s a far cry from planning to kill someone, even with a good reason. He’s stronger, and hell, I don’t even know what I am, much less how to use it to defeat him.”