Desire: #4 Brightest Kind of Darkness (11 page)

Maybe instead of discussing the past with her, I should focus on the present. “You don’t want to talk about past stuff, fine. Let’s talk about dinner tomorrow night. I’d like Ethan to come.” Once Mom nods, I continue, “And Dad too.”

Her face hardens and she folds her arms. “Absolutely
not
.”

“Gran’s coming, and you’ve already invited Aunt Sage.” When she doesn’t say anything, I add, “Dad’s staying with his sister.”

Mom shrugs. “Now that he’s here, I’m assuming she’ll cancel.”

“It’s tomorrow night. She knows you need to buy food to prepare. Has she cancelled yet?”

An uncomfortable look flashes in my mom’s blue eyes. “No, she hasn’t.”

“It’s not like you can un-invite her.” I shift my tone slightly, softening it. “He’ll be all alone, Mom.”

She stiffens. “Whose fault is that?”

I start to say it would be the right thing to do when she suddenly tilts her head and says, “You know what…why not?” Thoughts trickle across her face like a scrolling neon sign: defiance, inspiration, then smugness. “I’ll call her myself.”

I realize too late exactly what Mom’s new angle is. David will be here too. She wants Dad to see she’s moved on. Ugh, I didn’t think about how this might possibly be awkward for my teacher or create a tense environment at dinner. I open my mouth to backpedal on my request, then clamp my lips shut. The most I can hope for with this Christmas Eve dinner is to see my mom interacting with my dad again after all these years, even if it’s just dinner conversation. Hopefully Mr. Dixon will take being Mom’s buffer and ego booster in stride.

Right now, I
really
miss my ability to see my whole day. I have no idea how this is going to turn out. One thing’s for sure, this Christmas Eve dinner won’t be like
any
of our past ones.

Chapter Seven

Nara

With time to kill before Ethan returns, I head to my room to clean it. I’d already taken care of the bathroom, but the rest needed a major reorganization.

An hour later, I unzip my jacket and set it on the bed, then open my window to cool off a little. I’d just pulled Freddie’s book from under my mattress, then sat down at the desk to look over it, when Patch swoops into my room, his strong wings gliding him inside.

I gasp at his surprise entrance at the same time Houdini lifts his head from his slumber at the end of my bed. My dog’s big brown eyes go wide and he instantly jumps down, then bolts out the door, his ears tucked to his head, an alarm bark trailing behind him.

“What was that all about—?” I start to ask Patch once he lands on my bed. I pause when the bird snaps his hard beak together three times toward the open doorway, then makes an annoyed huffing sound.

My gaze shifts from Patch to the doorway, then back to the massive raven walking around on my comforter, and it hits me what happened. Houdini’s wound is about the size of the tip of a raven’s beak. Patch must’ve gone after him for deserting his post to chase rabbits. The bird has always had a keen sense when I’m in danger.

Poor Houdini. “Did you have to slice his ear open? Kind of harsh, don’t you think?” I gently reprimand the bird.

Patch bobs his head, then lets out a low
gronk
before flying over to land on my desk.

I keep my hands where they are on the desk, figuring it’s best not to make sudden moves. Considering the way the bird came in after Houdini, he’s obviously in a mood.

I can’t help but curl my fingers in a little when he bends his powerful beak toward my hand. I don’t even realize I’m holding my breath until he nudges his beak under my pinky, then lifts it and the finger next to it, sliding his beak and then his head under them.

Shocked, I exhale slowly and gently run my fingers across his beak, then over the silky feathers on his head. Patch tilts his head and makes a low guttural sound as he steps closer so my hand will slide down his neck.

I keep my touch light, gently rubbing his feathers. When he pushes the crown of his head against my open palm, then runs his beak along my wrist and gently clamps onto it, my heart swells with understanding. He’s worried about me.

Tears blur my vision and I blink them away. “I’m okay, Patch. Everything’s fine. The demon’s gone.”

He releases me, lifting his black eyes to mine. When he bobs his head a couple of times, I smile. “Thank you for watching over me. But please don’t clip Houdini’s ears any more. If he hears you coming, that should be enough to tell him to get home from now on.”

Nara.

I jump and jerk my hand away from Patch, looking around my room. It’s Drystan’s voice again. This time I know I didn’t conjure him in my mind. I’m not even thinking about him.

The video application on my open laptop beeps a couple times, drawing my attention. When I see the handle: TheWelshArse, I chuckle and click the answer button.

“Nara!”

I’m so happy to see Drystan, to know he’s all right, I have to blink several times to keep from crying. “Drystan! You will not believe what just happened. Were you just thinking about me?”

He gives me a duh look. “Yeah, hence the reason for my handle.”

“I just heard you—” Pausing, I squint to see the tapestries on the wall behind him. They look…old. “Where are you?”

He follows my line of sight, then looks back at me and shrugs. “Guess that gives me away. We ended up leaving early instead of waiting ‘til Monday. My uncle didn’t want to deal with holiday traveling.”

“So you’re in London now?”

“Yeah. What do you mean you heard me?”

“I heard you say my name.”

He nods. “I did, right when the video popped up.”

I shake my head. “No, before that—wait…are you wearing my scarf?”

He tugs on the ends he’d pulled through the loop, tightening the gray scarf around his neck. “Uh, yeah.” Blowing on his hands, he rubs them together. “It’s right cold in this part of the building.”

I shake my head and sigh. “At least now I know where my scarf went. Been looking for it.”

“Sorry ’bout that. Found it when I emptied out my sports bag. Must’ve picked it up along with my stuff after practice.” A sheepish grin flashes. “It has come in handy here though, so thanks for the borrow. Guess you’ll have to come to London to retrieve it.”

He’s so shamelessly cheeky, I can’t help but laugh. “You keep it. It looks good on you, very European. So tell me…how is it there? Does it feel like being in Wales? Do you feel at home yet?”

“It’s…London, which can never compare to Wales.” He runs his hand through his light brown hair, pride for his homeland reflecting in his green eyes, but I notice his smile doesn’t quite reach them.

“Something’s wrong? What is it?”

The right side of his mouth quirks slightly. “You know me so well. You’re the only one who does.”

I lean closer to the laptop. “Tell me, Dryst.”

At that moment, Patch leans in front of the screen, then lets out a loud
raaack
and tries to peck at the surface.

“Quiet, Patch,” I hiss right before Mom calls upstairs.

“Nara? Why is Houdini suddenly shivering at my feet? Is he getting sick?”

“He’s fine, Mom. Just got spooked over something.” I look at Drystan. “Hold on a sec. I need to put the bird back outside before my dog has a heart attack.”

“Come on, Patch.” I wait until he climbs onto my wrist, then I walk over to my window and hold my wrist outside. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Once he’s gone, I shut my window and return to my laptop. “Sorry about that. Patch is—”

“What happened to you?” Drystan suddenly tenses, a scowl pulling his brows down.

“Huh?”

“Your neck?”

He’s clearly worried. My fingers instantly go to the bandage on my neck. “Oh, that. One more sec.” I get up and grab my jacket. Zipping it all the way up to cover my wound, I sit back down with a sigh. “I’m fine, Drystan. Really.”

“I didn’t do that to you, did I?”

I quickly shake my head. “No. This was just me not being careful with my curling iron yesterday.” I hate lying but he’ll only worry. That’s the last thing he needs right now.

“If it’s bad enough that you need a bandage, maybe forget the curling iron.” Exhaling, he relaxes. “I can’t believe you’ve tamed a raven.”

“Hardly. He comes and goes as he pleases.”

“Why did he listen to you then?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. He just does.”

Drystan chuckles. “You truly are amazing.”

I wave my hand. “Enough about me. What’s going on with you? Are you going to join the Order?”

Drystan glances around for a second. “You should see this place, Nara. It’s massive.” His lips quirk. “If these walls could talk, I bet they’d have many stories to tell.”

I inch closer to the laptop. “You’re in the Order’s sanctuary?”

“For now.” He grimaces. “I’d prefer to live elsewhere, but my mum loves it here.”

“So are you saying you’re not going to become a Paladin to a Corvus?” The thought makes me a little sad. “No matter your differences with your uncle, the way you helped me learn to defend myself, you were born to be one, Drystan. If I were a Corvus, I’d want you to be mine.”

His green eyes light up. “Yeah?”

I say softly, “Very much so.”

“You’d be the only reason I’d say yes,” he says, his expression darkening.

“Why? Has something happened?”

He lifts his right arm and shows me an older style wristwatch with a black leather band. “My uncle gave this to me, insisting that I wear it. My mum got a bracelet, I think.”

“It has the Corvus symbol on the back, doesn’t it?” I ask.

He frowns. “How’d you know?”

“Your uncle told me that he planned to give you a family heirloom with the symbol on it to protect you from demon possession.”

He nods solemnly. “It felt weird when I put it on…” He pauses for a second. “I don’t know how to explain it. I felt connected to it somehow.”

“Keep it on, Drystan. No matter how you feel about your uncle.”

His mouth curves in a mock smile. “Yeah. Well, I was in the process of looking at the Corvus symbol stamped on the back of the watch when I noticed some tool marks along the metal plate. As if someone had opened it. So I popped it open, and underneath that plate someone had manually etched DON’T TRUST.”

“That sounds a bit…ominous. Did you talk to your uncle about what you found?”

“’ell no!” He huffs out, and slides his hand through his hair once more. While alternating streaks of blond and light brown flip around his fingers, his face settles. “Sorry, Nara. I didn’t mean to snap. It’s just…I don’t trust anyone here. It’s not like I can tell my mum. She doesn’t even know the Order exists. You’re the only person I feel safe talking to about this.”

My heart twinges for him as I stare at the watch on his wrist. “It might not be as bad as you think. Yes, it could mean ‘don’t trust anyone,’ or it could just as easily mean, ‘don’t trust’ that the watch will protect you from demon possession. It was marked on the watch after all.”

“Too late for that,” he bites out.

I clamp my back teeth on the inside of my cheek, wishing I hadn’t used that example. “As far as I know, wearing the symbol on you does stop them, so definitely keep it on. Did you at least tell your uncle that you remember everything that happened while you were possessed?”

His eyes widen and his face pales. “You know that I remember?”

I dip my head, hoping understanding conveys in my expression. “Yeah, I know. I could tell by the way you were acting on Saturday night.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, he glances away. “I did so many horrible things.”

“That wasn’t you, Drystan. It was the demon.”

He rests his hands on the desk face-up in front of him and stares at his palms, his voice dropping to a hoarse whisper. “They were
my
hands, Nara. My fecking hands.”

Before I can say anything to calm him down, he exhales a harsh breath and raises his eyes to mine. “Don’t worry. I’m dealing with it. But in answer to your question…no, I won’t tell my uncle or anyone else the whole truth.”

I understand his hesitancy. After all, he’s living in a place full of people whose whole purpose is to support Corvus who hunt and dispatch demons. “Maybe over time you’ll feel comfortable sharing with someone there.”