daynight (27 page)

Centuries ago, a beautiful princess named Helina of Light stood at the precipice of a volcanic crater at dawn. As firstborn daughter, her family had to sacrifice her to the Gads in exchange for seven years of plenty in the lands surrounding the volatile and fiery volcano. As the sun peeked over the Eastern horizon, she boldly dove towards the fiery pits.
 

Instead of being consumed by flame, Helina found herself engulfed in warm water. She flopped and flailed in the water to keep herself afloat. A strong breeze whisked her to a shell-covered beach. Too weak to move, she awaited death.

Death did not come. Hadrian of Dark found her while fishing. He abandoned his haul, carrying her to his garden home miles away. Lush, fertile and beautiful beyond measure, Helina thought she was in Heaven with the Gads. She fell in love with Hadrian and, in time, agreed to cleave to him.

A year hence, Helina bore twins to the delight of her husband. Csilla favored her mother. Cole, his father. The children thrived in the gardens, though Csilla yearned for adventure. She’d grown hearing stories of the ‘mortal’ land of her mother’s birth. After Cole took his uncle’s daughter to cleave, Csilla set out to find Light. She wove a raft of reeds of the garden and pushed out to sea, never to be seen by Helina and Hadrian again.
 

Years after her parents’ death, Csilla returned to her parent’s garden home with her children and grandchildren. Cole greeted her and marveled at tales of travel between Light and Dark. After nights of feast and celebration Csilla invited Cole to journey to his mother’s birthplace and see Light with his own eyes. He acquiesced to his sister’s pleadings, bringing his own children and grandchildren. They visited the very volcano where Helina was sacrificed before Cole returned to Dark. Despite the lure of Light, he missed his cleave and his father’s gardens.

Generation after generation passed between Dark and Light. Only those of the blood of the Originals could make the journey. Until, that is, Helina’s great-great-great-great granddaughter, Ilana, who lived on Light, struck a deal with the Gads when her husband died before his time. The Gads agreed to bring her husband back to life in the Dark land of her distant grandfather. Eventually, others were granted a second chance at life on Dark.
 

“Cool story, huh?”
Tristan says upon finishing. “I love a good romance.” I envy his naivety. He thought some author imagined the story. Although I imagine much of it to be fiction, the folklore justifies Original domination over Second Chancers. Tristan doesn’t even realize he once lived in Light and his benefactors in Dark Exiled him here by execution.
 

Choosing my words carefully I respond, “Kind of grim. I can’t believe someone wrote a story for kids about a girl jumping into a volcano.”

“You wouldn’t jump into a volcano if it meant finding your one true love?” he ask. I might actually jump if I knew I could find Blake. Or see Ethan again. But to jump thinking I’d die? Crazy.

“She didn’t know she’d find love,” I say. “And since when are you such a romantic?” A slip. Not one he’d recognize, but a slip nonetheless.
 

“I’m a regular Prince Hadrian,” he says, brown eyes sparkling and impish grin shining. And with that, I smile for the first time since Blake disappeared. We talk for hours until Bri arrives, covering every kosher topic on Thera, from Cleaving, love and romance, to friendship, sports, exercise and food. It is the Tristan of our early relationship. Fun. Talkative. Charming. Sweet. I fell in love with
that
Tristan, not the soulless, drunken oaf who cheated on me with my best friend.

“Have you found him?”
I ask as Spud Rosenberg enters my living room unannounced, a second man behind him. Although I’m thankful to be out of the clinic, being in the house I share with Blake without him has been excruciatingly painful.

“I’m afraid I can’t say,” Spud says. “Our search and rescue operations are confidential. But you should prepare yourself for the worst.”

“Are you kidding me?” I say. “He’s my partner. I need him back and to know that he’s alive. Why won’t you tell me?”

“We’re not here to discuss Blake. My colleague, Ethan Darcton, requires a word with you—and I do believe you’ve been wanting a word with him, as well,” Spud says.

“Ethan
Darcton
—as in related to Brad Darcton of the Ten? ” I ask, straining my neck to get a look at the guy who’s still obscured by Spud’s large head. My stomach lurches toward my throat as if I’ve just taken a plunge down a roller coaster. I instantly recognize the face. Striking. Magazine cover material. Young twenties. Dark hair. Twinkling sapphire eyes. Stubble from a couple-night start to a beard. And definitely not a ghost. Ethan. How could he show up now after all this time? He just now comes to see me? He walks towards me so I can get a better look and I can finally confirm he’s as incredible as I remember. He’s a Darcton? The Ten was responsible for that explosion and Mr. Senior Ten’s son was there that night striking up a conversation with me? That can’t be a coincidence. Could hot college dude be a terrorist?

“Yes, I’m his son and we’ve met previously,” he says as if he might have slipped my mind, taking my hand in his and sitting down next to me on my couch, close enough that his knee touches mine. My heart races at his contact, but my brain is doing somersaults at the thought that Ethan may have been involved in the Goodington disaster.

“I’ll leave the two of you to talk,” Spud says. I shoot Spud an icy glare, but he waves me off and exits through the front door. My attention returns to the Darcton heir and I find his eyes transfixed on me. I sigh deeply and try to find my voice amidst my astonishment.

“So, after all this time, you show up. At first I thought I’d lost my mind,” I said. “I kept seeing you on Earth, or so I thought. And again at the scale version of the Headquarters meeting with... your father. I heard your voice at the clinic, but you wouldn’t open the door. And then Blake said he’d run into an Intern named Ethan with your description. Why wouldn’t you say something to me and let me know you were alive? Or perhaps you were purposefully avoiding me.” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, as if to compose himself before addressing me.

“I’m so sorry that Blake’s gone missing,” Ethan says, ignoring my questions. “He seems like a really nice guy and from what I understand, you two are close.”

“How did you survive the explosion at the Goodington party? How are you here on Thera? You’re really Brad Darcton’s son?” I ask. To think that I obsessed over every word he spoke to me that night… wondering if he felt even a fraction of the connection I felt… wondering who his girlfriend was… and ridiculously wondering if he could forget her and want a forever with me.
 

And then the fantasy fizzles. He’s a Darcton. “Why were you even there that night?” Heck, they can Exile me for all I care. “Did you cause the…” Ethan cuts me off as he firmly plants his hand over my lips, but shakes his head ‘no’ at my intended question.
 

“I know you have a lot of questions. But, let me address one thing at a time. I was at the Goodington party, because as part of the interview process the SCI does a ‘spot check’ on the most promising Recruits to confirm they’re of the right kind of character to represent the Second Chance Institute. The Ten asked me to observe you and your friends. It was during my observation I happened upon an unfortunate incident,” he says, as if reciting a script. “It’s easier to show you,” he says. “I brought a video that should… shed some light on the events of that night.”

“Video?” I ask. He briskly leaves the couch, takes a memory card from his pocket and plugs it into the side of my tablet. I follow him. A few moments later images appear on the monitor and I take a seat in my desk chair. Ethan’s not acting at all like the flirty, sweet guy I remember. In fact, he’s awkward and seems nervous. His hands are shaking. The all business demeanor doesn’t suit him.
 

“I apologize in advance for the content,” he says. “I was directed to show you.”

“By?” I ask.

“The Ten,” he says. “They have… concern about the time you’ve been spending with your former boyfriend, Tristan. Given your importance… as a Recruit… they want you to be fully informed as to his behavior leading up to the accident.” I clench my teeth to keep from correcting him. Accident? Don’t insult me.

Mr. Darcton the Younger skips forward to the segment I’m to watch. Briella and Tristan fill the screen. They’re sprawled out on a bed, presumably within the former Goodington estate since they’re dressed in Winter Formal attire.

“We need to tell her,” Bri says.

“Why now? If you haven’t told her about us after a year, what’s changed to make you want to come clean?” Tristan asks.

“I love you,” she says. “I always have. Since our first time up at Mammoth, and that was before I stupidly introduced you to Kira and you blew me off for her.”

“I didn’t blow you off at Mammoth. You were playing head games and then you blew up at me after I spent the afternoon keeping Kira company in the lodge. I didn’t want to deal with your crap. No matter how good of a time we’d had at that party,” he says. “Besides, you said you were okay about it. That you wanted her to be happy and I made her happy.”

“I don’t think either of us have been making her happy lately. She has to know something’s up and I don’t think she could handle finding out about it from someone else,” Bri says.

“I thought we’d talked this through at iHop this morning and decided
not
to tell her. She’ll probably be leaving soon anyway to go do that stupid internship and then I can use that as an excuse to break up. When she gets back we can tell her we hooked up while she was gone,” he says.

 
“No, it’s not enough. You can’t date my best friend while having me on the side. We need to tell her. Tonight,” she says.

“That’s crazy. You’re drunk,” he says, and then shoves some tongue down her throat.

“
You’re
drunk. I’m just enough drunk to give you what you’ve been wanting all night,” she says before slipping off her dress and unbuttoning his tux shirt.

“Please turn it off,” I say to the monster I assume filmed it. How could I have been so wrong about Ethan? I’d built a freaking pedestal so high to put him on, so I guess I shouldn’t be shocked to see how far he can fall. At least I’ve kept a perfect record in falling for only schmucks who disappoint.

“Of course,” he says. He closes out the file and slips the card back in his pocket. He turns to me, putting his hands on my shoulders and whispering in my ear, “I’m so sorry. Know that I had no choice and disagree with the Ten’s methods.” His touch sends shivers up and down my spine, attraction and repulsion converging.

I pull back, step away from him, and practically spit out my words. “You followed me? Taped my friends? How did you survive the explosion? Why won’t you answer my questions? Why have you been avoiding me?” I ask, furious at his involvement with the Ten. Furious at the Ten for sending someone to spy on me and for killing my friends.

“I followed you when you left the party and planned to offer you a ride home. But then the explosion happened and Blake carted you off in his truck,” he says. “After that, well, I wasn’t purposefully trying to avoid you, I swear.” I look into his eyes for hints of sincerity. He appears to be telling me the truth, but I can’t possibly trust the son of a member of the Ten, no matter how attractive and how big of a fantasy I’ve built up in my head about him. His father and the other nine exterminated more than a hundred people to get me here. No good can come from that bloodline.

I retreat back to the couch, tuck my legs into my chest, and rock back and forth. My entire relationship with Tristan was a lie. And Bri? She loved Tristan the entire time we dated. Slept with him. Even before we’d met and started dating. We’d gone on a big group thing to Mammoth. I got carsick on the way up so she went to the party that night without me and must have hooked up with him. Then the next day, he’d come over to our table—probably to see her—and since I thought he was cute I nervously monopolized the conversation. And told Bri afterwards I was interested in him. At that point, she decided not to tell me what had happened between them. And then he’d asked me out and I was dumb enough to accept.
 

At some point, though, they’d hooked up again. Or maybe they never stopped. But things shifted. I recognize that now. They both started pulling away. Right around when I told them I planned to take the Test. Tristan distanced himself after that. Started drinking more. When I’d left iHop the day of the Test, I’d seen them deep in conversation. Why couldn’t I see it? She thought I was onto them. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I should get an award for my abject stupidity. And then I come here and get partnered with Blake. And our fake relationship starts to progress to something real and he tells me he’s falling for me. I still can’t quite forgive him for letting go of that cactus and leaving me to fend for myself in a flash flood. Not to mention risking his own life just to chat with his father. And now he may be dead. Or joined up with the Exilers with no plans to return.
 

Blake and I may be the unwilling parents of who knows how many offspring. There’s still that possibility weighing on me. My eggs. His sperm. Future of Thera. Blood of the Originals. Dark and Light reunited. Fantasy or fiction, I do not know. What I do know is that I’m not ready to parent a brood of crossovers. Or Daynighters as they’re called. Why do they care so much about having people that can go back and forth? It’s not for Recruits, that’s for sure.

And if all of that isn’t enough, the incredibly hot, sweet guy who I dreamed about spending my life with turns out to be the son of my worst nightmare. He’s not dead. He’s not with his girlfriend, if she was even real. Instead, he’s Brad Darcton’s son and errand boy for the Ten. His flirting was just another assignment and my fantasy was just that. A fantasy. That stings most of all.

My silence and mental breakdown lasts at least twenty minutes. Ethan stays put, silently watching and waiting for me to snap out of it. Finally, I speak.