Midnight Falls (Sky Brooks Series Book 3) Page 2

  “Okay, I’ll do it for you,” he said, although I knew he would rather be raked over hot coals.

  We stood in the middle of the living room. In anticipation of something bad, a scowl overtook his features. Strong magic drifted off him and spiraled around us. His usually cerulean eyes now a deep indigo, he held mine, taking my hand in his. He clasped my hand firmly, stepping closer and invading my space. I wondered if he could feel my magic the way I felt his? Did it feel odd—wrong somehow? Did he relive that day that Pala had tried to kill him and steal his magic instead of helping him get into the dark realm?

  I shivered at the nearly faded images of us straddling this realm and a magical one, where so many elusive objects were hidden with the use of strong magic. He waited a long time before he took out the knife. His eyes were vacant as they wavered, barely able to meet mine. No matter how many times we did it, a knife sliding over my hand was always painful. I winced. The blade slicing into his skin didn’t seem to bother him. But I guess a person that had as much body art as he had was accustomed to a certain level of pain, probably even welcomed it. Placing his hand in mine, our bond came quickly. As soon as he whispered the final words of the spell, I was yanked into a sea of darkness. I called for Josh but he didn’t answer. This was different than before. No objects revealed themselves as I walked through the caliginous abyss. Breathing was difficult, and I was bathed in the heavy mist that surrounded me. Something was wrong. The lugubrious feel that occupied every inch of the room and the dank coolness that enveloped me were definite signs that I wasn’t welcome.

  But the further I walked, the warmer the air became, and the brighter my path became. A new world slowly revealed itself to me. I heard Josh call to me, but I couldn’t see him. It didn’t look like the first time we had visited. Before it was full of things, hidden by the cloak of dark magic, but now there were fewer items. I looked for the Aufero, an orange luminous globe. A shadowy figure moved in the distance, and I lost focus on the reason I was there as I followed it. The slim figure darted in and out of the mist, just a glimpse of him appeared and then I heard a loud shriek. Like a siren warning me of danger. I quickly changed directions and looked for the Aufero. As though it had waited for me to discover it, the glowing sienna ball was a beacon that I followed until I was in front of it. Pulsing at spastic beats, everything revealed itself as if I were looking at a portrait. The dark wood curio that housed it, the odd painting of a woman with her arm outstretched to the sky, her dark dress angled out by the wind, all worked as markers that would ensure I could find it again. The room brightened, giving me every opportunity to identify it if I needed to. A sparrow hung on the wall, and odd cylinder-shaped candles were mounted to the wall, a garnet triple goddess symbol over a marble counter. On the tiles of the floor were symbols intricate and different in each space; they would be easy to identify.

  I started back, trying to follow Josh’s voice that had become louder with each step. A figure moved so quickly to my distant right it was just a blur. As my eyes adjusted to the quick movements, I recognized the figure. It was Ethan, or someone that looked so like him he could pass as his double. The moment I was close enough to identify him he disappeared. When I turned to find Josh, Ethan’s double stood in front of me. He had all his features except his skin, which here was bronze, his eyes vacant and gold. Standing so close to me, our skin nearly touched. He was just about to touch me when I remembered Josh’s instructions two years ago when we were in the dark realm and encountered a bronze man similar to the one standing in front of me. “Don’t touch him, and if you ever see someone like him outside this realm: run.”

  And that is exactly what I did. Before he could touch me, I ran through the space, draped in darkness, calling Josh. I screamed, but my words were captured in the darkness, as we remained in unyielding silence. The fog increased, making it hard to see anything. The smell of sulfur and fire bloomed the air. Breathing was difficult and my vision was compromised as my eyes started to tear up. I heard a strange gurgle and ran toward the sound. Josh’s hand was wrapped around his throat, trying hard to pry the invisible strangler off him. Just as I whispered the words to release us, something sharp sliced into my side.

  Lying on the floor next to Josh, we stayed there, panting softly as the remnants of strong magic lingered. My side ached.

  “I hope you got what you needed because we are never doing that again,” Josh finally said, sitting up.

  I continued to lie on the floor thinking about everything I’d seen in there and trying to make sense of it. Josh hovered over me. “Are you okay?”

  I nodded, but I wasn’t. My side was throbbing.

  “You’re bleeding,” he said, rearing back on his heels to get a better look.

  I followed his gaze and found my shirt was sodden with blood. He jumped up and went to the bathroom and came back with a towel and bandages. Before I could object, he lifted my shirt and starting cleaning away the blood. My skin gaped open from the deep incision that was just deep enough to need bandaging. “It will be okay by tomorrow,” I said, but he lingered just a little too close.

  Personal space was a rule that Josh often ignored. He glanced down and smiled. “All better,” he said.

  But it wasn’t all better. The longer I was away from the dark realm the more distant it seemed. I winced when I sat up to grab a piece of paper and pen off the coffee table and started scribbling down the patterns and shapes I had seen and everything I could about the dark realm and the Aufero, while Josh just looked over my shoulder. I wished we could have grabbed it then, but the dark realm just allowed you to see things, never touch. Which made the bronze man and whoever stabbed me even scarier. How did they survive in such a place? Why did they stab me? They weren’t trying to kill me, maybe not even hurt me. Was it their way of pushing me out? If that was their plan, they succeeded, because I was glad to be out of that place and didn’t have any intentions of going back.

  I wasn’t an artist, but a person could look at my picture and definitely find what was drawn on it. But I couldn’t seem to get the image of the man that looked like Ethan out of my head.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  I wanted to tell him I had seen Ethan. I should have but it sounded crazy when I said it, and in my head I could only imagine what it would sound like out loud.

  “Nothing.”

  “Did you get what you needed?”

  And so much more. I simply nodded my head.

  He brushed the damp hair from my face. “You’re burning up. Are you really okay?”

  No, I wasn’t okay, but I wasn’t hurt. I felt different, but I couldn’t pinpoint what it was: wired. “What is Ethan?” I blurted.

  His face scrunched, giving me the look I suspected you would give one descending into madness. “What do you mean?”

  I know Josh knew that there was more to Ethan than met the eye. Josh seemed more inquisitive in the past, but now he seemed to be in a place of acceptance. “He’s a werewolf, like you, Skylar.”

  That was the problem. Ethan was more like me than he would admit. I wasn’t just a wolf. I was death masquerading as a werewolf. I didn't survive my birth as a result of a vampire trying to turn my mother and me in utero. The conflicting changes were too hard for my body to handle, and like any other person would, I died. In an effort to save my life, my mother transferred the spirit shade from her to me and gave up her life in the process. I’m alive because I host a spirit shade named Maya. Because of my unusual birth and death, I could and would never be just a werewolf.

  Ethan could break protective fields, something were-animals couldn’t do. Dark creatures had an unusual aversion to him. There was something very odd about him, yet each time I questioned him, he was quick to tell me he was just a were-animal.

  Josh handed me a glass of water. I emptied it quickly. I sipped on it—the second one—slowly, as he stared at me from across the room. He was too perceptive to not know something was wrong, but I wasn’t sure if he really wan
ted to know.

  Josh tried to convince me to stay longer, and usually I would have. We always ended our practice sessions the same way: sitting on the couch, snacking on the various junk foods that dominated his diet as we drank an unwise amount of alcohol while watching a movie with better special effects than storyline. But today I just couldn’t stay because keeping what I saw to myself was going to be difficult anyway, and there wasn’t any way I could maintain discretion doing typical post-magic activities. Today I needed to get as much distance as I could from Ethan’s brother.

  CHAPTER 2

  I always glanced at the small sign written in gold script: PLEASE DO NOT TOUCH THE ART, before I stepped closer, keeping my hands at my sides and struggling to obey what should be an unspoken rule. The most avant-garde work in the city was displayed in this gallery. Most up-and-coming artists and sculptors held their shows here and it was the home of many modern pieces by local artists.

  This was a good ending to a very disappointing day of searching for the Aufero. I knew what the place looked like. The problem came with actually finding the building. The dark realm didn’t give you an address. It only revealed objects that were ordinarily hidden by dark magic in the real world. Unlike the last time when we looked for an object there, we knew it had been somewhere Josh was familiar with—the vampires’ home. Now I was blindly going into various places. I had narrowed it down, based on the surroundings, to either a boutique, a candle shop, or a magic shop masked as a metaphysical store. Three other metaphysical stores and the candle shop were a bust.

  The art gallery was a welcome escape. No one asked me if I needed help anymore because I usually scanned the new paintings and sculptures, then made my way to my favorite portrait. But I made it a point to pause for a moment, to study the pieces, the way Claudia, the owner and Ethan and Josh’s godmother, had taught me. It seemed to be her goal to encourage me to appreciate work on a different level other than just considering it “pretty,” “provocative,” or “nice.”

  Although each piece fascinated me, it was a simple portrait at the far end of the gallery that always garnered my attention. It calmed me and always made life seem a little less complicated. When I joined the pack, I knew it would be more than me signing my name on a dotted line and showing up for the next members’ meeting as I waited for them to tell me what dish I needed to bring to the next pitch-in. They had taken complexity to a new level. Why did I need to know the history? Wasn’t American history enough? And finances, American Express, my mortgage company and the utility company were the only things I felt obligated to give money to monthly. So when I was told I had to give ten percent of my income to them, I was ready to give them my two weeks’ notice, the finger, or whatever was needed to separate myself from them. Questioning them on what the money was used for and what I got out of giving it to them quickly became a moot point when I received a quarterly statement, and a sixty percent return on my investment. I didn’t ask any questions, I just took the money and hoped the mistake wouldn’t be soon discovered. But I was realistic. They didn’t make mistakes like that, nor were they likely to let me walk away without consequences. It was something I accepted as being part of the Midwest Pack. The advantages of joining them outweighed the disadvantages. I needed them.

  “Why this one?” Ethan asked. He stood close. The warmth of his body brushed against my back, his breath bristled against the nape of my neck. I inhaled a deep breath because now I felt like I was suffocating. Ethan had an overwhelming presence. After two years, I thought I would have gotten used to it. But I hadn’t.

  I didn’t know how to answer that. What drew me to this picture was still a mystery to me. I continued to stare at the portrait of two boys lying on the bed, the younger of the two in peaceful slumber; his blushed cheeks and ruffled hair made him seem angelic. The older one was propped on his elbow, watching over him. His face was intense and far too troubled for someone of his age. The pale blue walls offered a tranquil backdrop for the portrait. Each week I came into this gallery to look at this portrait, finding something new and intriguing about it. Today I noticed a shadow just to the right of the slightly ajar doorway as flecks of light filtered into the room. There was a story to this picture that I was missing and it pulled at me each time I saw it. What was it trying to tell me? This wasn’t art. It was a puzzle. Tightening my hand into a fist, it calmed my urge to touch the painting.

  I shrugged an answer as he took up a place next to me, focusing his attention on it too.

  Once I asked Claudia if she knew the boys. She took in the picture as though she hadn’t seen it a million times. Her smile, which was usually pleasant, was weak and forced. Her response was, "I do believe we all know boys like that. Sweet and docile when they are asleep, but when awake, mischievous like rascals."

  “Let’s have dinner tonight?” Ethan requested.

  Ignoring Ethan had become a talent I had perfected to a delightful skill. This time I just couldn’t. Instead, I scoffed at the request, glanced over to look at him, and said “No.”

  “No?” he asked. A smug grin reached his eyes, gunmetal with a hint of blue. Then it crept over his lip, obvious that he wasn’t used to being denied. “Why not?”

  “I don’t like being lied to or threatened and every time we’re together you do one or both. So, no, I don’t want to have dinner with you,” I said firmly.

  He moved closer, “You are the one that wanted to talk. I am giving you an opportunity to do that and I will answer any questions you may have.”

  That piqued my interest. I turned and scrutinized him for a long time; his features held the same sincerity as his voice. His chestnut hair was short again, accentuating his defined features, which were usually stringent and tight as though he was physically carrying the weight of the world. I had a hard time believing any of it. “You will answer them truthfully and promise not to give me any of those silly lies of omission that you are so fond of,” I challenged him.

  He nodded.

  I considered the invitation. I didn’t want to have dinner with him, but my curiosity overshadowed my apprehension. Worst-case scenario, he reneged and refused to answer my questions, and I would have the pleasure of walking out on him.

  As I pondered the invitation for a few moments longer, unable to fully commit, he crossed his arms. “I will see you at eight,” he said.

  “I will meet you at Gigio’s at six.” That was early enough for it not to be considered a date. I didn’t want to date Ethan, and based on his behavior towards me most of the time, he didn’t want to date me either. Six o’clock was a perfect non-date time.

  “I will be at your house at eight with dinner,” he said as Claudia approached. He turned towards her, and before I could object, he looked over his shoulder. “If I am going to be subjected to your inquisition, I do believe privacy is necessary.”

  His smirk deepened as he turned his attention to his godmother.

  “Ethan, I’m so glad to see you,” she said with a thick South African accent. Always impeccably dressed, today she wore a peach pantsuit, a pearl necklace and bracelet set, and beige gloves. She was never without gloves. Not only was she an empath, but also an auteur. She could predict your future simply by touch. The gloves helped make life easier for her. If they were on anyone else, it would have looked silly, perhaps even pretentious. But with her refined, elegant looks, they fit. Most times her deep brown waves were pulled back into a bun. Today she wore them down; loose waves flowed around her face just shy of her shoulders, flattering her parchment skin.

  Ethan smiled and he greeted her with kiss on each side of her cheeks, avoiding touching her skin.

  “You have to promise to visit more. Brunch Sunday, okay?” she suggested.

  When it came to Claudia, Ethan and Josh were reduced to amicable and compliant children. “Sunday will be great,” he smiled agreeing without hesitation.

  Then Claudia turned her attention to me. “You should join us,” she offered.

  No thank you
, I think dinner tonight is more than enough. I kept my snide remarks to myself, gave her a genteel and fake cloying smile. “Of course.” There would be enough time to come up with an acceptable excuse to cancel.

  “Wonderful,” she beamed. Then she did something odd: her cheek pressed lightly against mine, where she held it for a few seconds. I wasn’t sure if it was intentional, but I knew in that brief moment she could see my life. I attempted to read her expression, but there wasn’t anything there, just the same cordial stock smile that she used on her many patrons. It was her inviting smile that coerced you into trusting her and ignoring her complex skills that would otherwise cause apprehension.

  She took my hand in hers and held in casually at her side. “Your lovely friend is becoming one of my favorite patrons. Her curiosity is inspiring. I see why you’re so fond of her, she is quite charming,” she said with a broad smile.

  “I am quite fond of her. And her curiosity, if nothing else, is quite charming,” he said. His broad, mocking and deceptive grin annoyed the hell out of me, but instead of calling him on it, we stood there smiling at each other like two idiots.

  Fond? Charming? I had to shift my attention from Claudia to Ethan. Ethan often had a questionable relationship with the truth, especially when it came to giving me answers to what he considered sensitive information. Now he was just lying for sport. Most of the time he was mocking me for what he perceived as incompetent behavior or threatening me. At what point had that fondness developed? Most people didn’t do that when they were fond of you. But with Ethan you never knew. That may be his twisted version of a mating ritual.

  When Claudia beckoned him to follow her, the cynical smirk on his face was the true declaration of his feelings as he turned to follow her. What was the jackass award he seemed to be constantly vying for? A car? Caribbean trip? International vacation? Ethan was the furthest from my mind as I soon directed my attention to a new painting that had a price tag on it that ensured I would never be its owner.