Light Shadows (13 page)

All this is happening within the span of one human breath. One mortal heartbeat. Leaving Chris oblivious to the single, thin thread that his life is dangling from.

And me? I’m just sitting there, wondering how the hell I got here. And what the hell I plan to do to stop it. I mean, I
could
stop it. I
should
stop it. Alexander’s anger is unfounded. He has no right to feel anything but gratitude towards my adoptive parents. They took me in and loved me when there was nobody left to fill that role. And yeah, I’ve made my fair share of mistakes, but I think they’ve done a pretty damn good job.

“Here we go!” Donna trills, holding a tray of lemonade and cookies. I watch as the palpable friction in the room slowly recoils like a retreating viper, conceding yet still deadly.

Blissfully unaware of the danger that lurks within this humble family room, Donna sets the tray down and begins to distribute glasses of lemonade, starting with Niko. He graciously accepts, yet keeps his eyes trained on Alexander who sits just a few feet away on Morgan’s right. He could push her out of the way and detain the Warlock before she even knew what happened.

When Donna offers Alexander a glass, he politely thanks her and diverts his venomous gaze back to the floor, making the rest of us release a tiny sigh of relief.

She hands me a glass, and when I reach my hand out to receive it, Donna grasps my hand and flips it around. “Oh my goodness! Is this what I think it is?” Her excited eyes dance between Dorian and me, waiting for the big announcement. I pull my hand back and put it behind my back.

“No, no,” I insist, shaking my head as embarrassment warms my face. “It’s not like that. Just a birthday gift.”

“Oh,” she smiles tightly, despite her obvious disappointment. “Well, it’s gorgeous, dear.”

Hoping to salvage the mood, Donna turns to Alexander. “I just still can’t believe it. Alex is alive!” She props herself on the arm of Chris’s recliner, and he reflexively places his hand on her knee in an act of possession and protection. Maybe he can sense the change in the atmosphere. Or maybe he just doesn’t fully trust the band of supernatural killers sitting before him.

Donna, none the wiser, prattles on in excitement. “What a wonderful surprise. We thought for sure you were captured by the Dark. How did you escape? Tell us everything!”

Alexander lifts his chin, just enough that his slow-burning gaze creeps up to Chris. “Why don’t you ask your husband that question?”

The
fuck?

I open my mouth to ask him to clarify, but the words are caught in my throat as an inexplicable wave of nausea overcomes me. I grasp Dorian’s thigh, suddenly feeling dizzy, and he instantly draws me close to support my sagging body.

“What is it?” he asks, placing a cool hand on my suddenly flushed face.

“I just started feeling woozy. I’m fine, it’ll pass.” I try to sit up, but he refuses to let me go.

“You’ve given so much of yourself to Morgan. You’ve overexerted your powers. You need to rest.”

Donna scurries over, concern dimpling her forehead. “Gabi, sweetie, are you ok? Does she need to lie down?”

Dorian turns to her, mirroring her worry. The others draw in closer as well, ready to help in any way. “Gabriella had to heal Morgan last night, and it must’ve taken more out of her than we initially thought. She needs to replenish.”

I cringe, knowing exactly what that would entail. Obviously, that act would not be appropriate in front of my parents, immortal or otherwise.

“I’m fine, I promise. Just a little queasy.”

“Maybe some peppermint tea will do her some good,” Donna says turning toward the kitchen. I try to tell her to wait—to just wait until the sensation passes—when the doorbell rings, sending debilitating wave of nausea to rip through me.

“I’ll get it!” she announces, taking a detour to the front door. In the few seconds it takes for her to turn the doorknob, the nausea is replaced with a niggling feeling of doubt. Of danger. Just like I felt a year ago whenever the Dark was near.

“Wait!” I shout, my hand reaching out to stop her from across the room.

Donna opens the door, revealing a boy, no older than eighteen, dressed in black slacks and a crisp white shirt. A black, leather bound bible is tucked under his arm, along with a few pamphlets. The boy smiles brightly at Donna before extending his hand in greeting.

“No! Close the door, Donna!” I shout, eliciting varied looks of confusion from everyone, Dorian included. I use my strength to break free from his arms, bounding over the coffee table, towards the door…

But it’s too late.

Too late to stop her.

Too late to save her.

IT ALL HAPPENS so fast. Much too fast for any human boy.

Impossibly quick, he reveals a dagger and plunges it straight into Donna’s abdomen. The way he smiles as the blade slices into her flesh, I almost think I am imagining it. But I can’t deny the wet sound of hot steel tearing into soft, pliant skin and tissue. I can smell it burning into her body, killing vital organs on its journey through Donna’s belly. Yet I still don’t believe it. Not until she slowly turns to us, the dagger protruding from her fragile frame in a sea of deep red. She opens her mouth to speak, yet only blood gurgles up from her throat, spurting out of her mouth. Then she drops to floor, choking on her last breaths.

“No!” I scream, arms outstretched, covered in a fiery auburn haze. Electric fire bursts from my fingertips, surging to the murderous human boy until I can no longer see that sinister smile. Until the skin melts from his bones before being incinerated into a pile of ash.

“Mom!” I cry, falling to my knees to cradle her limp body in my arms. “No, no, no! Please!”

Chris is screaming, sobbing hysterically, praying desperately for a miracle. He drops to his knees in front of us. “No! Please don’t leave me. Please just stay with me, baby. Stay with me.”

I feel Dorian beside me, checking her vitals. He looks up at me with grave, hopeless eyes, but I refuse to see them. I refuse to believe this has happened.

“No! I can save her! I can bring her back!”

My blood-stained hands are already shrouded in an auburn haze when I lift them over the wound. Her pupils are unfocused—empty—but I still try to align our gazes. Dorian holds her head up to meet mine, but there’s no connection. I can’t feel her mind. I can’t sense her soul.

“Come on,”
I grit, refocusing every bit of my power to my hands. “We have to pull out the blade. Hurry!”

I don’t even realize that Niko is on my other side until he reaches over to grab the dagger. It sizzles when his skin meets the handle, and I instantly smell burnt flesh.

“Ack!” He draws his hand back, only to shake it off to try again, gaining the same results. “It’s cursed! I can’t fucking touch it!”

Dorian carefully places Donna’s limp head in my hands before reaching over to try to uproot the blade. “Fuck!” he barks, pulling his hand back.

“What is it? What can we do?” We’re losing precious seconds. I can feel Donna’s life waning. I can’t even sense her presence anymore.

“Let me.” Alexander kneels down as Morgan pulls Chris away to give us room to work. He reaches over, wrapping his hand around the handle of the dagger and slides it from her body. I don’t even have time to wonder why he was able to do it. I immediately focus my energy to my fingertips, willing my life to sustain hers. Hoping I can save her as I did Morgan. Praying for a miracle.

Gray flakes of dead human flesh blow away into the wind, some attaching to the sticky blood still spilling out of Donna’s abdomen. My stomach roils but I swallow down the heave in my throat. I have to concentrate harder. I have to give her more of me.

“Gabriella,” I hear Dorian say beside me. He places a hand on my forearm, but I nudge it away.

“I just have to try harder. I have to keep trying.” The auburn haze is extended around Donna’s entire body now. “Please, Mom! Please don’t leave me. I can’t do this without you. I need you. Please!”

“Baby, it’s too late. You did everything you could. You have to stop now.”

“No! I won’t stop trying! This will work!”

“Baby girl, listen to him,” Niko says gently. “You can’t save her. You’re killing yourself.”

“I don’t care!” I push my power more, ignoring the fatigue attacking my body. I’m dizzy, but I don’t care. I just need to hang on a little while longer.

“You’re fading, baby. Please. You have to stop,” Dorian urges.

When he places his hands over mine, pulling them away from the gaping wound, I can’t stop him. All I can do is cry, my agonized tears raining down on Donna’s face until there’s not an ounce of feeling left in me. Until I am so numb with grief that I can’t cry anymore. I know he’s right; I knew deep down that it was too late for my mom. All the magic in the world couldn’t bring her back to us.

I feel hands on me, sending surges of comfort and serenity, but the pain is too deep. It’s crushing me, stripping me bit by bit until I’m raw with sorrow. I don’t want to be consoled. I want to feel this pain; I have to remember it. I want it to fuel my rage when I come face to face with the bastard responsible for taking away the only mother I’ve ever known.

I shake my head. “No. Not me. Chris. He needs it more than me.” I hear my adopted dad howling his anguish as if he had been the one to fall upon that blade. Right now, I know he would do anything to take Donna’s place.

Niko goes to him while Morgan comes to slide in his place. “I’m so sorry, Gabs,” she whispers. “But it’s ok. She’s ok, Gabs.”

“Ok? Ok!” I sob. “She isn’t ok, Morgan! She’s gone! She’s…she’s…” I can’t say it. I can’t say the word.
She’s dead.
The woman who loved and cared for me as her own from the moment I was placed in her arms is
dead.

“But she’s ok. She’s at peace. And she’s here. With us, right now.”

Teary eyes wide, Morgan points to an empty space just feet away from where we sit. “She’s here, Gabs. And she said to tell you it’s ok. It’s ok to let her go.”

The room goes eerily silent and still as a blanket of peace wraps around us. I can’t see Donna’s spirit, but I can feel it. I can feel her love and warmth enveloping this very room. Even in death, it’s her gentle strength that comforts me.

I drown in my tears once more, holding Donna’s still, lifeless body in my arms. Twenty-one years ago, I lost the mother that gave me life. Now I’ve lost the mother that gave me love.

I SIT ON
the loveseat, the very same place I sat just hours before as Donna served us all lemonade and cookies. Someone draped a blanket over my shoulders, but I’m still shivering. I can’t seem to stop. Morgan brings me a cup of hot tea, and I take it with trembling hands, thinking of all the times Donna made me tea with her special herbs. She wanted to protect me. She knew it was an impossible feat, but she did it anyway.

“How do you feel?” she whispers beside me.

“Numb,” I answer, my voice hoarse from screaming and crying. “But it hurts. It hurts everywhere.” I pull the blanket tighter around me. Luckily, I still had some clothing in my old bedroom, and when Dorian could finally pry me off of the floor, he got me out of my blood-soaked clothes. I was grateful; I couldn’t stand the smell of death on me for one more second.

I look up at my best friend, who looks shaken down to her core. “How about you? I know that must’ve been rough for you to see.”

She shrugs. “I don’t know what to feel—what to believe—anymore.”

We’re silent for a long stretch as we both sip tea and stare down at the floor, not sure what to say or do to bring each other comfort.

“You saw her,” I whisper, unable to hold it in for a moment longer.

“Yes.”

“And she…she was gone? You’re sure you saw her?” I know the answer, but if there is one tiny shred of hope…if there is some way to bring her back…

“I’m sure, Gabs,” she says, dispelling my false hope. “I’m sorry—you know I am. I wish it was different. But she’s ok. She’s at peace. She’s just worried for you.”

She should be,
a little voice inside my head says.

Dorian and Niko come from the back room, their faces weary and solemn. I’m weak, but I push myself off the couch, ignoring the fatigue stiffening my joints.