Darkness of Light (24 page)

“Don’t worry about watching your back, Ember, because I will be doing that for you.” He moved his face close to mine. His features looked cruelly misshapen and sinister, turning his handsome face ugly and disturbing. “I’ll be watching you all the time.”

Then he was gone.

Twenty-three

I didn’t want to be alone, not after the unveiled threat from Lorcan, so I called the gang. Eli had left me stranded in the middle of the woods and so I sheepishly gave them directions. They came immediately with no questions asked. Those were being saved for later, so they didn’t hound me right away. Instead, they curled up with me on the sofa, watching TV, and talking. It felt good just having them here. 

After an hour or so of them staring at my “war wounds,” Ryan couldn’t take it anymore. “Okay M&M, I’m not trying to pressure you to talk, but we’re worried about you. What the hell happened to your face?” Ryan’s eyes were filled with worry.

“Uhhh . . . it’s a long story.” I lay back down on the sofa pillow; I could barely keep my head up. I just felt like shit all over. I would tell them what happened or most of it anyway. They were my best friends, and I didn’t want to lie or keep things from them anymore. At the same time, there were some things I couldn’t share with them or anybody.

Kennedy gave Ryan warning glances and gently lifted my head on her lap. She was like a mother bear, and today I was the cub. If that meant she had to growl, bite, or attack to protect me, she would. She lightly brushed my hair back off my face, which reminded me of my mom. It took everything I had not to fall asleep. 

“Jeez, Em, you are burning up.” Kennedy put her hand against my forehead. “You feel like you have a fever.” 

“It’s just really hot in here.”

“No, it’s freezing in here. I think you’re sick.” Kennedy gently rubbed my arm.

“Sick? But I never get sick . . .” I trailed off as another chill shook my body. I had experienced my fair share of headaches, cramps, and occasionally a hangover, but when I say I never got sick, I mean I had never gotten a fever, a cold, or the flu. I never had the chicken pox or any other childhood bug that every other kid seemed to get. I had never stepped foot into a doctor’s office (therapists didn’t count) or a hospital, not even to an eye doctor. When my elementary school was giving free eye exams to the students, my mom took me out of school. At the time I thought nothing of it, but now . . . 

“Oh Em, you are definitely sick.” Kennedy tucked the blanket around me tighter. “Do you have a thermometer? I think I should take your temperature.”

“No, I don’t,” I replied as a chill rushed over my body. Cold sweat beaded around my hairline. When you never got sick, you had no need for things like thermometers. My mom had been against Western medicine, saying it only harmed the body. She didn’t believe in the pill-popping cure. She was more into herbs and natural remedies and Mark followed suit in parenting me. Whether he agreed with it or not, he never deviated from the way Mom wanted me raised. The only thing I fought her on was ibuprofen. That was a must. So what had caused me to get sick now? 

Kennedy placed her hand on my sweaty forehead again, looking worried. “You are really, really hot.” She turned to Ryan. “Will you run to the store?” Kennedy gave him a list of stuff to get and rushed him out the door. 

I felt like I barely closed my eyes before he was back. “Holy cow, Em, you have a temperature of one hundred four degrees!” Kennedy exclaimed, looking at the thermometer. They propped me up, handing me a glass of water and a couple pills. I downed them and crashed back onto the sofa, falling sound asleep.

***

I was in a room the size of a football field. Striking, dark, wooden floors reflected the dozens of glittering, hanging lights that dropped from the high, arched ceiling. It felt like being under a night sky. It looked like I was in a castle, but it was unlike any castle I had seen before. It was modern, but it had an old-world feel about it. I looked closer at the pendent lights. Flickering, rolling balls of fire were trapped within the glass balls, illuminating the room. It was beautiful. 

I sat on a sleek, fur-lined throne. An identical one was next to me, empty. A chandelier hung between the chairs. It looked to be made of millions of raw silk strands, illuminated from the inside out, casting a bewitching glow over the chairs. There was a fire floating in the middle of the room on a huge metal plate. Glass windows lined one side of the room and revealed snowcapped mountains and a glistening lake. It was the most breathtaking place I had ever seen.

“Like it?” Torin’s voice echoed through the room. 

My head jerked to where it came from and I gulped. Torin, with his leather pants and muscular arms, leaned against the doorframe not too far from me.

“Where am I?” I asked.

“We are in a castle. The Throne Room, to be precise.” Torin walked up to me. 

“The Throne Room?”

“It’s where you belong. This is your rightful place. It is a befitting place for us together.”

“Why would it be my rightful place?”

“It is in your blood, Ember. You and I were destined by the gods and goddesses to be together. That is why I could never stop looking for you. You are mine.”

“I’m sorry, what?” I squeaked.

He shook his head. “I apologize. I should have known it was too soon for this discussion. I need you to focus on surviving first.”

I didn’t want to drop the conversation, but dread kept me from saying so. I had this strange feeling I wasn’t going to like what I was about to find out. Better to live a while longer in ignorance. If I was dead, all other issues would be a moot point anyway.

“You need to stop thinking of these as just dreams. I am real. With my limited ability, I am trying to prepare you for what is coming.”

“All right. Let’s say you are real. How are you able to come into my dreams?”

“They are not your dreams, Ember. They are dreamscapes I have created for us. All these places are not from your imagination but from true places I create from memory. When you fall asleep, I bring you into them. I know it is hard for you to think of this as real from the limited beliefs and thoughts humans have, but I assure you it is.” He stiffened and then whirled around, looking back at the door behind him.

“Oh no!  She is coming to me now.” He whirled back around and with one step was standing in front of me. He held the side of my face. “I have to go, Cinaed.” He pressed his lips against my forehead. The beautiful world around me evaporated into darkness.

***

I woke up feeling the impression of Torin’s lips on my forehead. 

“I think your fever’s gone.” Kennedy’s hand lifted away from my brows. I frowned at her hand, resentful that’s what I had felt pressing on my forehead and not Torin’s lips.

I was unsettled from the “dream” or whatever it was. Could it have all be real? Was Torin really coming to me in my dreams? But how was that possible? I shivered at the notion that something in me was not only different from everyone else, but maybe not even human. I couldn’t think about it right now or I would go insane. Funny how that was no longer my greatest fear.

The fever had broken. Whatever had inflicted me was gone now, which calmed me. I didn’t like being sick. Kennedy, still in mom-mode, took my temperature again and was happy to see it was back to normal.  

I sat up, pushing all thoughts aside. “I want pizza.”

“I think she’s better,” Ryan commented with a smirk.

An hour later, while I munched on the crust of my pizza slice, my brain worked its way back to Torin and what he had said about me being his. My thoughts drifted to Eli, recalling how his lips felt on mine, how his hands felt on my body. 

Ryan’s hand waved in front of my face, looking at me questioningly. “Okay girl, what is going on with you?” 

“The list is far too long.” I rubbed my face, letting my head fall back onto Kennedy’s lap. “Is the day over yet?”

“Not yet, Em.” Kennedy patted me gently on the head. “Are you ready to talk about it?” 

I groaned as Kennedy continued to stroke my hair. It felt warm and cozy, and I just wanted to stay there and not have to deal with stupid sheriffs, dreams that might be real, or Eli’s incredible lips and mood swings. 

But life was a cruel bitch.

I sat up and finally confessed to them why I was in such a dilapidated state. I told them a lot of what had been going on, excluding or changing bits that were unexplainable, which seemed to take out a good chunk of it. 

“You were in jail?” Ryan screeched. “This all happened after you left us at the concert last night?”

“Are you okay?” Kennedy’s soft, concerned voice asked. 

Ryan shook his head. “Wait. You and Eli Dragen? Do you understand that is huge? You are hooking up with the notorious Eli Dragen, the ultimate bad boy.” 

“Em, you’re okay, right?” Ken put her hand on my arm. I nodded. 

“Holy Felon, Batman. You were in jail because you were in a bar brawl at Mike’s? See, I told you, Ken, she is the BEST thing that ever happened to this town”—Ryan’s teasing subsided as a serious look crossed his face—“and to us.” I smiled as a warm buzz fluttered over me. 

They demanded every detail of what happened with Eli. Again, I creatively edited what I told them. I wanted only enough detail to have them ask the least amount of questions. They had suspected Eli had something to do with my mysterious mood; they just didn’t know how much had gone on between us. 

My fingers twirled around the fringe of the blanket as Kennedy and Ryan discussed my encounter with Eli. My gaze shifted to the TV. The news was on—and above the reporter was a picture of two men whose faces were burned into my memory. I frantically grabbed the remote and upped the volume. 

“Breaking News,” the woman reporter said. “Two men who were found beaten to death this evening are reportedly members of the Hells Angels biker gang.” My eyes widened. “The victims are Ronald McNamm and Frank Corman of the Washington chapter. Investigators have stated they were arrested last night after a bar fight and released earlier this afternoon. Olympia’s Sheriff’s Department is actively investigating another biker club that lays claim to this area. There are no other details about the victims’ violent deaths, but police suspect gang rivalries have fueled these murders.”

“Oh . . . my . . . God.” I stared at the screen, in shock, acid dripping into my stomach. 

“What? What’s going on?” Ryan looked around like we were about to be invaded by aliens, which from the way my life was going, wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility.

I numbly pointed a finger at the screen as the reporter regurgitated the same information. “Th-Th-That’s them!” I jabbed my finger at the pictures of McNamm and Pock that were still on the screen.

“You mean the guys who you got into a bar fight with last night?” Kennedy exclaimed.

“Y-Yeah,” I responded numbly.
Holy shit! Pock and McNamm are dead?
I sat with my mouth open during the rest of the story.

“Em?” Kennedy touched my arm timidly. I jumped off the sofa and almost fell back down when the room spun on me. “Take it easy Em, you’re still not well.” 

My heart pounded as I started to hyperventilate. I never told Eli the names nor did I describe what they looked like, but that wouldn’t stop him from finding out. I knew in my gut he was responsible for the murders. This was no coincidence. Did he really kill them because of me? I remembered the vibrating hatred he had when he realized they had done more than just struck me. The men hitting me had sent him into a rage but knowing they had touched me had sent him over the edge. 

So much had happened since then I had put his reaction out of my head. Was he capable of murder? Yes. I knew without a doubt he was. What shocked me was it didn’t cause me to be afraid of him. There was something about him that was predatory, feral, and dangerous. He was extremely animalistic, reminding me of how wolves act. He would do anything to protect his pack. Was I considered part of that?

Kennedy’s eyes grew wide. “You’re thinking it’s Eli’s gang they are referring to?” 

“Yeah.” I was seriously going to have to be careful around her. “But I never told him who did it . . . how would he know?” I rubbed my face roughly. He could’ve found out by asking Mike. “Holy shit! I did this. They were killed because of me.”

“You don’t know if that’s true, but it’s not your fault, no matter what happened. You didn’t kill those guys and you just admitted you didn’t tell Eli,” Kennedy said.

“It is my fault.” 

“No, it’s not. Their deaths could be completely unrelated to Eli or anything involving you. Could just be a coincidence, nothing more,” Ken said firmly, making me believe it could be true—almost. 

“Yeah, and I watch porn for the acting,” Ryan said dryly. Ken shot Ryan a dirty look as I flopped my head onto the cushions, groaning.

“Great job, Ryan.” Kennedy nudged him.

“Sorry, but that’s a bunch of BS. This is
SO
about her!” 

“Ry, you’re really not helping,” I grumbled through the cushions. I didn’t know what to think or believe, but even worse was that I didn’t know how I felt about it. 

“Still, even if Eli did do this, it is still not your fault. He did this, not you,” Kennedy said. 

My overly attentive friends didn’t leave my side until they had given me some chamomile tea to calm me down and tucked me into bed. Whether I wanted them to be or not, they were going to be here for me. It felt good to talk and open up to them, even if it wasn’t the full truth. That was something I didn’t even know myself. 

Twenty-four

On Monday, I parked the truck in the Silverwood parking lot. My stomach, an entangled mass of nerves, threatened to bring my breakfast back up to the surface. I hadn’t talked to Eli since he abruptly left me in the woods Saturday morning. Sunday had been painful, stretching into an infinitely, tediously, long day. I had to force myself not to look at my phone every other minute, but nothing seemed to occupy me enough to stop. I could feel a girly insecurity nipping at me, which only pissed me off more.