Innocent Darkness (3 page)

Kevighn Silver walked the dark, foggy streets of San Francisco, his soul weighed down in defeat, long coat brushing his legs as his walking stick tapped on the cobblestones, beating the tattoo of his failure. Another candidate lost. Again.

Desperation rode him like a rider on the hunt rode a horse. The time of the sacrifice quickly approached. If he didn’t find a suitable girl …

Annabelle’s suicide weakened the land more than he’d ever let on. The replacement girl they’d found to be the sacrifice hadn’t been nearly powerful enough, leaving the land hungry. This cycle, the chosen girl must be extraordinarily special; not only to satisfy the land’s hunger, but to atone for the shame he still suffered for Annabelle. Some of the lesser creatures had already lost their magic; parts of the Otherworld grew unstable.

It was all his fault.

As the high queen’s huntsman, he found one special girl every seven years. She only needed to possess the Spark—that special something some mortals possessed. It was joy, creativity,
life.
Chosen girls lived a charmed life in the Otherworld, spoiled and cosseted by all. When the appointed time came, her blood spilled, nourishing the land, the very magic composing their world. Without the magic, the Otherworld would fade away—along with the creatures who dwelled there. Their absence would affect this strange world, too. Unbeknownst to mortals, magic escaping from the Otherworld fueled their creativity. If the magic of the Otherworld disappeared, the creativity of mortals would as well.

He entered an older part of San Francisco. This area he liked better than the rebuilt ones with their technology, gadgets, and shiny bits of metal. The dismal weather kept everyone inside, leaving him alone with his troubled thoughts.

Keeping his desperation at bay proved difficult but necessary, anxiety made him stupid. Finding a girl used to be simple. If he didn’t succeed, they would all die. Him included.

Tomorrow he’d figure out where to travel to next. San Francisco itself now held a dangerously high amount of aether for those with the Spark and finding a girl here would prove difficult. He’d caused that, as well. The Otherworld mourning her lost sacrifice triggered the earthquake that had destroyed most of the city six years before. Tonight he’d drown his sorrows in opium. His step, but not his heart, lightened at the thought. Mortals did have vices down to, as they would say, a
science.

Ah, opium and soft women. The very thought made him toss and catch his black and silver walking stick. Yes, just what he needed—and he knew the perfect place to go.

“Noli, your mother’s here.” Officer Davies entered the empty room at the local Los Angeles Air Patrol station. She sat on the bench, her knees drawn to her chest, arms wrapped around them, head resting on her arms.

“Noli.” Officer Davies sat down next to her on the bench. “We’re not singling you out. We’re not out to spoil your fun.”

“I know.” Not raising her head, she sniffed.

“I understand how losing your father—”

“He’s not dead.” Passion colored her voice. “He’ll

“No one wants you to follow down the same path as Jeffrey, which is exactly where you seem headed no matter how many warnings I give you or how many chats we have.”

She raised her head, jaw clenching in defiance. “What do you mean
follow down the same path as Jeffery?
What’s wrong with being an aeronaut? Someone needs to fly cargo vessels.”

“That’s what your brother says he does? Fly cargo vessels?” Officer Davies still wore his airsuit, but not his helmet, revealing messy brown hair the same color as his eyes. He wasn’t a bad sort, for a hovercop.

The officer sighed, his kind face weathered with age and elements. “Talk to your mother. You’re a good girl—a smart girl. Not a girl who’s failing school, and spends her time hoverboarding illegally or tinkering on a deathtrap.”

She glared at him for calling the Pixy a
deathtrap.
“I’m not quite failing.”

Not quite failing everything. She excelled in botany. Noli loved botany and had secretly dreamed of becoming a botanist. Once. Before her father disappeared. When her parents told her she could do anything.

Lies. To do anything you needed money.

If she got a job after she graduated from school she could not only help support her mother but save up so she could go to the university and become a botanist anyway. Maybe.

Officer Davies’ expression hardened. “This might appear silly, just two young people out for a joyride. But with your record, the judge will see a troubled girl with no guidance on the path to trouble. Flying without a permit one day, stealing autos the next, perhaps even air piracy … ”

“Judge?” A lump formed in her throat as the word barely squeaked out.

“You were in a residential neighborhood. If we take this before the judge, you’ll probably lose.”

Her chest tightened. That would mean a detention center. Her mother’s social status balanced precariously with them being distressed gentry. Noli getting in trouble and playing the hoyden didn’t help. Their biggest hope lay in her marrying well—not that anyone expected her to. She possessed no great beauty and too much intelligence, thus, her idea that she should simply get a job and save her family. If she was sent to a detention center, her mother’s reputation would plummet. It might even affect her mother’s shop if people refused to buy her dresses. Also, who would take care of her mother? Right now Noli didn’t earn much in the way of money, aside from the occasional repair, but she did a lot to keep their family together.

“There is a place … ” he began.

Her eyebrows rose. Already, it sounded dreadful.

“A school for girls from good homes who have difficulties,” he added, as if sensing her hesitation. “I’ll speak to your mother and the captain about it. Perhaps we can get you back on track before you become an air pirate.”

“I’ll
never
become an air pirate.” Even if they went to the poorhouse. Air pirates were nothing but terrible, horrible, criminals.

“Good.” He offered her a hand up. “Your mother is waiting.”

Noli stood, brushing off her skirt and apron, steeling herself. The true yelling would wait. Distressed gentry or not, the Braddocks still possessed their pride.