Darkness Brutal (The Dark Cycle Book 1) (12 page)

By the time I get back to the room, Ava is shivering again. She climbs onto my bed beside me with Mr. Ribbons held tight to her like she’s two instead of twelve.

“I’ve missed you so much these last few years, Aidan, and now we’re finally together again. I can’t let anything happen to you,” she says, gripping my arm and snuggling into my side.

“Nothing is going to happen. I found a place where we can be safe for a while.” I brush the hair from her face. “Why don’t you just try to sleep for a bit. I’ll sleep, too. We won’t think about the darkness anymore.” A tear slips down her cheek, but she closes her eyes, so I say, “Remember when the Marshalls were alive and we’d go to the beach and make tunnels in the sand? You’d catch crabs and we’d give them all names. There must’ve been hundreds of them. You told me you were a mermaid and that they were your cousins and that you were all having a family reunion.” Her breathing is even now, settled, like she’s finally drifting off. “You were happy, remember?”

I lie beside her and get lost in the memories, all the colors and light of those years. Ava was a child for a little while. The memories lull me to sleep, too, my limbs getting heavy. My eyes close, and just as I’m floating off, my head close to Ava’s, a scene rises through her mind to the surface of my own.

I stand on a familiar beach, facing away from the churning waves behind me, staring at a cliff wall. The wind stings my cheeks, cold and salty. The ground seems to rumble, like when the tide crashes against the rocks, but then a dark shadow surges forward. It billows out of the cliff wall, becoming a cave opening, growing wider and wider, inviting me inside. The dark hole tugs at my clothes, pulling me closer, into it. And then I realize I’m not alone. A man stands beside me, his hand resting on my shoulder, firm, comforting. But I can’t see his face.

On the other side of me stands another figure, tall and inhuman, with red eyes and twisted horns growing from its skull. A demon. The same demon that was following Rebecca.

It turns to grin down at me, like it’s satisfied. At last.

And I step forward, letting the darkness take me.

I emerge into the waking world, to air made of ice and sharp edges. I open my eyes slowly, carefully, afraid of the chill on my skin.

Because that is the chill of a monster.

A red glow pulses, back and forth, ticktocking under my bedroom door. Joined by the sound of a crackle far off.

Fire.

I grip my blanket and bring it to my chin, teeth chattering from the cold, from terror. I listen and wait, eyes locked on the flickering light.

Mother called it again. She called the monster back to us, even when she promised me yesterday that it was going to be over. Why would she lie to me? Why would she do that when she knows . . .

The crackle grows louder, and something crashes against the floor. My muscles jump in my skin, and Ava’s scream fills the walls.

Ava. The idea of her small form in her playpen, there, beside the casting circle, shakes me from my terror enough to move. It lifts me to my feet and propels me to the bedroom door. And as I enter the hall, the glow brightens, casting blood-colored light over the wall opposite my mother’s room. I know I’m going to see the monster. I’m going to feel its darkness. But I’m going to save Ava.

I step into the casting light, into the open doorway, the sound of fire hissing around me. The red and silver flames dancing around the room should be warm, but instead of sparks, they send ice crystals into the air. They run along the circle she painted in blood; they lick and crack the prison walls, like they too are alive, making the barrier peel away.

When I see past the moving fire my insides turn to ash.

My mother’s feet dangle over the floor. A massive claw grips her neck, lifting her higher and higher as her body remains still, allowing the creature to claim her.

The beast is massive; a man, but a wolf, too. Its snout is long, dripping with long strings of saliva. The teeth glisten sliver in the flickering flames.

It doesn’t feel me there. It doesn’t know my eyes watch as it shakes my mother, turns her into a doll made of rags, jerking her head, shouting a garbled word that I don’t understand.

I am a statue of horror and confusion. My nightmare is taking her. It wants her, and I can’t stop it, even as it sneers, lip rising like it wants to tell a funny joke. Its tongue emerges, long and thin, catching a line of blood sliding down Mom’s shoulder.

Then it punches its claw through her rib cage.

A gasp of air and shock puffs from my mother’s lips, from mine. My whole body screams, but I have no voice. She’s tossed to the floor, a broken doll now. And the demon is left holding her dripping heart in its claws.

The monster waits. Until its sigil, its signature, appears in the growing pool of blood. Until a mark surfaces on my mother’s still forehead, claiming her as a sacrifice.

Then the monster turns to my weeping sister, reaches out to her shaking form, its talon pointed at her tear-stained face. Before it slices through her soft baby shoulder with a prick, releasing a drop of blood.

Ava goes silent, the flames sink away, and it’s as if all the sound is sucked from the room. She stares wide-eyed at the wolf monster, fascination filling her tiny face.

It grins down at her, pats her white hair with a blood-coated palm . . .

pat

pat

pat

. . . before it disappears in a suck of wind and ash with my mother’s heart still clutched in its fist. And I stand in the doorway, useless, having done nothing to stop any of it.

FIFTEEN

I wake with a start. Everything’s foggy in my mind, like I’ve lost something, like I’ve misplaced the one thing I was supposed to take care of, the most precious thing I’ve ever been entrusted with.

“Ava?” I squint in the sunshine-filled room. She’s not sleeping beside me, and her bed’s empty.

I sit up, heart racing. I dreamed . . . something. I can’t remember. But something’s wrong.

My head throbs, but I ignore it and leap from the bed, bursting into the hall. “Ava?!” I yell—but it comes out muffled, coated in the remnants of sleep.

I stand there listening, holding my breath. One second ticks by, two seconds . . .

Everything in me shakes, panic becoming full-blown terror. She couldn’t have run off, could she? She can’t be gone. She just can’t.

The bathroom door opens with a squeak, and I spot white-gold hair and hear her humming “Alouette,” the French song Mom used to sing when she cooked. I don’t stop to think. I rush forward and scoop her up, hugging her tiny form to me.

“Ugh,” she grunts. “Aidan, you’re gonna break my ribs.”

I release her after another second. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“I had to pee.” She pats my arm and walks past me back to the bedroom.

I stand for a second trying to catch my breath. Why did I react like that? Way over the top. All Ava’s anxiety from yesterday must’ve gotten to me. I’m losing it.

My head stops spinning, and I turn back to the room. Before I make it inside, Kara barrels through her door, head down, earbuds in, and runs smack into me. I grab her arm, pulling her into me to steady us. She tenses, becoming aware of her surroundings. Her eyes look straight at my torso and then trail up my neck to my face.

She pulls an earbud slowly from her ear and blinks.

“Uh . . .” She stares for a second. Then she glances down at my hand on her arm. She blinks and jolts back, stumbling into the wall as if I zapped her. “Why’re you walking around like that?” She gapes at me.

I look down at myself, my bare chest, my boxers, not sure what the huge deal is. It’s not like I’m naked.

“Sorry.” I shrug.

“Have some common decency,” she says, pushing off the wall. “And watch where you’re going,” she adds, trying to act as if the last six seconds didn’t happen.

Fine by me.

She walks past, heading to the stairs. I open the door to my room, pretending I’m not paying attention. But I hear her footsteps pause at the top step, and when I look behind me, she’s taking one more peek before heading downstairs out of view.

Ava doesn’t mention the vision of that dark hole swallowing me again. I certainly don’t want to say that I saw part of what she had seen, too—that cave.

And I definitely don’t want to tell her I saw a demon standing beside me.

But it’s clear now that I can’t ignore the demon following Rebecca and the fact that it’s aware of my ability to see. That vision Ava got was a warning. I can’t leave a loose end out there at a time like this. I need to do something, get a firm grip on what I’m dealing with. That demon was major, no simpleminded foot soldier. None of them can know I see, especially one that strong, especially now. If that demon or others come looking for me, they’ll find Ava.

I grab my phone and dig into my pocket for the card that Rebecca’s friend Samantha slipped in there the other day. I could ask her for Rebecca’s phone number, ask Rebecca if she could meet me somewhere, like her house. But that feels too close, too personal. It needs to be in a crowd, a place I can keep things strictly superficial, so to speak.

I type a text:
This is the guy from the hall—Emery’s friend. You invited me to the party. When and where?

I press “Send” and set the phone down, but it vibrates almost immediately.

The white answer bubble reads:
OMG! Totally come! Tomorrow night off PCH 2492 Malibu Rd ;)

That was easy. Now I just have to figure out how to get there.

I go downstairs and find Kara sitting on the couch next to Finger. The two of them are playing some sort of zombie war game.

I walk into the living room, pausing in the archway to watch them.

Kara spots me, and her thumbs go still on the controller. If the house wasn’t muffling all the emotion, I’m guessing I’d be feeling irritation.

I lean on the wall. “So you’re part of the gamer crowd?”

“Is there someone else you can annoy?” Screams come from the TV, and she growls. “Great. Now I’m dead.”

“I need to find out how to borrow a car,” I say.

She sets down her controller. “Excuse me?”

“I need a car tomorrow night.”

“Um, no.”

“Where’s Sid?” I ask.

“He’ll be in soon,” she says.

Oh yeah, the shed. “Why does he sleep in that tiny shack?”

“Why’re you so nosy?” She stands up from the couch and walks past me into the kitchen.

I follow her, but I remind myself to stay focused. I need the car. Sid’s odd sleeping arrangements aren’t my business. “So about the car.”

Jax comes into the kitchen behind me. “Where do you think you’re going?”

I glance at him. “Not exactly your concern.”

“But it’s an easy question,” Kara says, pulling a basket of strawberries from the fridge. “Where
are
you going?”

I shrug like it’s nothing. “A party.”

She squints, and then something dawns on her. A grin spreads across her cheeks like the Cheshire cat. “You little slut! You’re gonna go to that prep school sex party, aren’t you?” And she laughs like it’s the funniest thing she’s heard in a long time.

“Whoa, you’re not going to a sex party without me,” Jax says. “With that face you’ll definitely need a wingman. I’ll do the honors.” He pats me on the shoulder like he’s trying to be buddy-buddy.

Kara snorts and bites into a strawberry. “You just wanna check out that red-headed girl with the boobs,” she says to me.

“Ooh, nice,” Jax says. “I wanna meet her.”

“Never mind,” I say. “Forget it. I don’t need a car.” I’ll ride the damn bus. It’ll take all day, but at least I won’t have to deal with these two.

“Aw, the boy’s feelings are hurt,” Kara says.

“Tragic,” Jax adds, opening the fridge and searching the insides.

“Want a strawberry?” Kara holds out a plump red fruit to me like she’s presenting a peace offering.

I take it, popping the whole thing in my mouth.

She laughs again, but this time the sound is pleasant, and I can’t help feeling pleased with her good mood. At least she’s not hating me right now.

“I’ll take you,” she says, setting the basket of strawberries on the table.

“Sucker,” Jax says, giving up on searching the fridge contents and moving to the pantry.

I shake my head. “Don’t worry about it.” The last thing I need is to try and check out a demon and keep it all off her radar while she—this girl who supposedly hates me—follows me around the party.

“Tomorrow night?” she asks.

I sigh and plop down in a kitchen chair.

Kara smiles in triumph and leaves the kitchen, saying over her shoulder, “Be ready at eleven.”

“I’m ready now,” Jax says.

The day goes by fast. Sid’s not around for most of the morning, but at noon he comes in carrying about twenty shopping bags. “I would’ve taken you with me,” Sid says from the hallway outside our room, “but I thought it would be more fun to surprise you. It’ll count as your first paycheck.”

Ava shoves her bags into the closet without even looking in them, but she seems pleased. She probably knows what he bought her without looking. I love the stuff he got me—shoes and jeans and tons more. It’s been so freaking long since I’ve had anything new. The crisp smell of each item is striking and unfamiliar.

After Sid goes back downstairs, I start to settle in. Ava and I pick drawers in the dresser, and I put away my new clothes. Next I pick up the mezuzah from its resting spot on the windowsill and hold it to the outer doorpost. I find some nails in one of the kitchen drawers and a paperweight on the mail table by the door, which’ll work as a hammer. Once I get the mezuzah hung correctly—right side, upper section, within three inches of the opening—I press my fingers to the Shaddai and whisper the Hebrew blessing: “
Barukh atah Adonai Eloheinu melekh ha’olam, asher kideshanu bemitzvotav vetzivanu likboa’ mezuzah.
” Then I bring my fingers to my lips before going back into the room.

I dig in my backpack and find the tiny vial of myrrh oil inside a folded-up ad for the mystical bookstore where Eric sent me to pick it up. I put some on my finger and run the slick liquid over the sill of the window and across the floor of the room’s entrance. Myrrh stays stronger longer than salt or rye. Plus, it doesn’t blow away.

Last thing I do is take my pocketknife out and carve into the windowsill in Latin:
Deus meus protectio
—God is my protection.

Now that I’m done with all that, the air feels light. Maybe the energy following Ava and me can balance itself out better. I have a sudden feeling of rightness, like everything’s actually going to be okay.