Light Shadows (46 page)

Everything around me stops. There’s no more shouting, no more crying. I don’t even hear the sickening sounds of Aurora’s blood pooling on the ground.

I look at the man I love, the stranger that lusts for my death. And for that second within a second, I let myself see him for what he is.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. And I am. I’m sorry for what I’ve done. Sorry for what I have to do now.

I flick my wrist, regenerating present time, and Dorian goes flying into the wall with enough force to form a crater in the plaster. He crumples to the ground unconscious, and the others rush to his side to start the spell. Still, I can’t forget the look on his face. It’s permanently burned into my retinas. He hates me.
Hates
me. And according to Stavros, he always did.

I scream out in hurt and frustration, letting my raised fist burrow into Aurora’s sinus cavity.
That’s for Donna
. I do it again, this time taking out her other eye.
That’s for Jared.
One more punch to the mouth, splitting her lips wide open.
That’s for all the innocent humans.

I raise my bloodied fist, ready to dish out the final blow of vengeance—the one for Dorian—when someone grabs my hand.

“That’s enough!” Alex shouts. “You’ve made your point.”

“No! It’s not enough! She has to pay for what she’s done!”

Alex’s stern expression softens, but his hand stays tightly clasped around my wrist. “At what expense? Your soul? You’re not a killer, Gabriella. Don’t let her make you into something you’re not.”

I swallow down the taste of death on my tongue and look down at the minced mess of Aurora’s face. She’s breathing, although it’s a struggle now that her nose is nearly hanging off and she’s got a mouthful of bloody teeth. She’ll live. She won’t be so pretty for a while, but she’ll live.

The brass knuckles dissolve from my hands as the blind rage trickles out of me like tears. Alex helps lift me to my feet, my body suddenly weak and shaky. He pulls me into his arms and hugs me, despite all the blood and gore on my face and hands. I hear his quiet murmurs in the Dark tongue, telling me its ok. Reassuring me that I don’t have to be afraid. It’s all over now.

But it’s not over. Not yet.

“We gotta get him out of here,” Niko says, looking up at us from his place on the floor.

I break away from Alex’s embrace and kneel beside him. “Did it work?”

“I don’t know,” Lars says gravely, shaking his head. “The darkness in him runs so deep. His soul is nearly black. We won’t know until he wakes.”

“And we don’t want him waking up here,” Niko adds.

After quickly going over our exit plan, Lars and Alex hoist Dorian up, supporting his weight on their shoulders. We’re moving towards the door as swiftly as we can and Morgan screams out in excruciating pain.

“Ah! My leg!”

I look down to see that even in her brutalized state, Aurora has managed to stab Morgan in the ankle with one of her viciously long nails. She’s bleeding pretty heavily, and since she’s human, there’s no chance of her regenerating.

I don’t even think about what happens next. It’s as if my body has been temporarily separated from my mind. All I can do is feel the bones in her face crumbling under my boot. Hear the wet, sick sounds of tissue and brain matter being mashed into pulp. Smell the scent of fresh death hanging thickly in the air.

Aurora is dead. And I killed her. And I feel…nothing…about it.

“Come on!” Niko says, pulling my body away from the gruesome scene. She’s still on the bottom of my boot. I scrape my foot over the ground, but I can’t get her off. “Gabs, we have to go. I know the royals will send in more guards. Shit, they’ve probably called in the Shadow.”

I let him pull me away, my body still numb, still disjointed. It allows me to run down the hallway towards the throne room. The fighting has ceased for now, but there are several causalities. Denny tells us to go on, that he’ll ensure that everyone gets to safety once they handle the humans. I don’t know what that means, and I don’t ask. At this point, with my heart and mind so far apart, I can’t say if I even care.

I’m aware enough to manifest to the jet waiting for us on Crete. I even help Morgan get strapped into a seat while Niko and Alex secure Dorian. I watch as Lars rolls up her pant leg to heal her wound. They embrace, smiling up at each other lovingly, but I don’t see it. I don’t see any of them.

Blank eyes watch as we ascend into the clouds, away from Greece. Away from the evils that festered within the Dark kingdom.

Away from another piece of my humanity.

I SHOULD HAVE cried by now. Screamed…something. But I don’t. I don’t do anything but sit next to Dorian’s bedside in the white room, waiting for him to wake. Waiting to see if he’ll know me—love me—like he used to.

Lars says that he was farther gone than we all anticipated. And with his stellar bloodline and steel will, it was hard to infiltrate his magic with Light. So we sit and wait.

And pray.

When I refuse to leave Dorian’s side, Morgan brings in a fresh change of clothes and begins to silently undress me. I let her, too numb to fight her, yet aware enough to lift my arms over my head and stand to step out of my tattered pants. She washes away flakes of dried blood from my skin with a warm washcloth and brushes my hair. And when I’m dressed and somewhat normal, she brings in water and a sandwich, leaving them on the nightstand.

Niko is here too, although he doesn’t sit beside me. He takes residence in the armchair across the room, sitting as still as stone. We don’t speak. There’s nothing more to say. He’s made it clear that he’s here as Dorian’s brother, not my friend. Or whatever he had become.

However, the silence is nothing compared to the fear. Out of everything we’ve been through—all we’ve been faced with—I’ve never been more terrified than right now. It’s the uncertainty—the unknowing. The
wishing for something so damn bad it hurts, yet knowing there’s a good chance you
won’t
get it.

I hate this feeling. I hate longing for things that are way beyond my control. I’ve fought and defeated my enemies today. I’ve killed. I’ve generated magic strong enough to turn bone into dust. Yet, the man on this bed can shatter me with one single look. Demolish me only with his words.

The reversal Stavros put on Dorian wasn’t irreversible, but it was tricky. And after all the hoping and praying that he would come back to us, we found out that he could very well regain his humanity, but with a 50/50 chance that his memories would be lost forever.

Dorian could be lost forever.

From the half-full perspective, he and I have a chance to fall in love all over again. Half empty? He’ll see that I’m really not as enticing now that the novelty is gone.

And what if the spell doesn’t work at all? What if he wakes up to be the same violent, evil prick we found back at the palace? Do we try again? Or do we just let him walk out of here?

And now that Stavros is dead, what does that make Dorian?

King.

Dorian is the new king of the Dark.

I thought this was the end of all the chaos and confusion, but I feel like it’s just beginning. The beginning of something…big. I just don’t know what it is.

“You should eat.”

My eyes snap to Niko, and I frown, wondering what made him break his vow of silence.

“You should eat,” he repeats. “You expelled a lot of energy. Food will help keep you strong until you’re able to replenish.”

I turn to the sandwich on the nightstand, take a small bite and put it down. Then I look back at Niko with an expression that says,
There, ya happy?

A few more minutes of silence stretch between us, and we go back to what we were doing before: obsessing in a pit of denial.

“Have you heard anything about Cyrus?” I ask, my gaze still fixed on Dorian.

“Yes. He’s recuperating well. He was too weak to try to transport.”

“Good. That’s good.”

“And Denny said the Light Enchanters have intervened on behalf of the humans, cleansing them of the darkness in their bodies and sending them home. The Dark royals have gone underground. Without Stavros, they’re afraid to try to fight the mandate.”

“Good.”
Sheesh
. Broken record, anyone?

“The rest of the fallen children are celebrating. They’re finally free. Not even the Light will stand in their way. They’re scared it will end just as badly.”

I smile, imaging all those people who are free to love and be who they want to be. I’d imagine that there are many more out there just like them who have been hiding out of fear of punishment.

“Denny knows your mother. They had something.” It’s not a question.

“Yes. He’s over 400 years old. He knew my mother when they were children. They fell in love very young, but he was not deemed fit to make her his wife. She was betrothed to Stavros, and I don’t think Denny ever let it go.”

I nod, sending out a silent prayer for the sinfully sexual rocker and the queen. Delia was a young girl in love once. She had dreams, hopes and aspirations for her future. But politics and greed changed that. And Stavros…he just has a way of sucking the joy from the very marrow of your bones. Maybe she’ll get another shot with Denny. Maybe she’ll learn to love again.

“I suspect he will return to join her at court,” Niko says, reading my mind. “You know, now that she is queen consort. She will seek his counsel, among other things.”

“And what about you? Will you go back as well?”

I hear the rustle of fabric, signaling a shrug. “I suppose I would, if she summoned me.”

“And Dorian?” I grimace as I say his name, the image of him taking the Dark throne flashing in my mind. “Will you serve him once he becomes king?”

“If he requires it.” He falls quiet for a beat, but I can still hear the question burning on his tongue. He doesn’t even have to ask. “And you? Will you serve him?”

I force myself to just focus on the rise and fall of Dorian’s chest, reminding myself that he’s alive. He’s safe, for now. That’s what’s important. “I don’t know.” I touch his face, the ring he gave me—the one on my left hand—glittering against the dim candlelight. The one that mocks me, telling me that I’m nothing but a kept woman. “He won’t…have me. Not in the way a king needs to have a woman.”

Niko’s silence speaks volumes. He knows I’m right. Dorian will never marry me. And once he is king, he’ll need a wife. One that can provide him with an heir.

Someone that is not me.

“You saved him just to let him go.”

“Yes.”

“You knew all along what this meant, yet you did it anyway. You risked your life for him, knowing that it couldn’t work.”

“Yes.”

Niko laughs sardonically. I look over to find him leaning over, his head in his hands. “What kind of love is that? How could something that’s supposed to bring you joy and triumph be so painful?”

“It’s not love. It’s insanity.”

He lifts his face from his palms, and meets my eyes. I see that the pain of love he spoke about wasn’t for me or Dorian, it was for him. That was his hurt, his anguish. I’m not the only one who’s insane.

“Why do we let them do this to us?” he asks, his voice a broken whisper.

“Do what?”

“Leave us.” An iridescent speck rolls down his cheek, almost masked by the comfort of the shadows.

“Because we’re stupid. And because we’d rather have a moment of happiness than a lifetime of loneliness.”

Niko makes a noise in his throat, as if my words strangle him. I turn away, allowing him to suffer in private.

“We love the unlovable,” he murmurs. “We save the unsaveable.”

“It’s a sickness.”

“It’s masochism.”

I nod, but I don’t say a word. We’ve already said it all.

The others check on us periodically to see if there is any change. Now, it’s Lars’s turn, whose ragged expression tells me that he’s weary. Saving Dorian has taken a toll on him, and he’s running on fumes. When he leans over to check his vitals, I gently grasp his arm.

“Lars, you’ve given so much of yourself. Is there anything I can do?”

Just as I expect him to, he shakes his head. Breathing is intimate, an act shared by lovers. Me giving to Lars…him taking me inside him…it wouldn’t be right.

“I appreciate the offer, but I must decline,” he replies, giving me a warm smile.

I nod in response. “Just let me know if it gets too—”

Pain.

So so so much pain.

Ripping through my back, slicing through skin and sinew and bone. Carving me in half with a blazing hot machete. I cry out, nearly collapsing onto the floor. Strong arms are the only thing holding me up, and my eyes are shut so tight, I can’t even tell who it is.

“Get it off me! Get it off!” I scream, clawing at my shirt.

Instantly, there’s a rip of fabric and cool air hits my skin. Still, it’s not enough to extinguish the fire crawling up my back. I can smell my own flesh burning and taste vomit on the back of my tongue. I force it back down, grateful that I didn’t eat much. My trembling body begins to sway as everything around grows dim. The shaking increases, shudders rolling through my body as if someone has dumped me in a pool of ice water.

“She’s going to pass out! Someone do something!” I hear Morgan shriek, but her voice is far away.