Darkening Dawn (The Lockman Chronicles Book 5) Page 6

  What’s happened with us?

  That question would haunt her forever.

  What had happened?

  They used to be so close. He had treated her like his own daughter, did his best to step in for Mom and Dad—leaning more toward Dad with his overprotective ways. Hell, only six months ago everything had seemed fine. But as Jessie had come closer and closer to her eighteenth birthday, something inside her had changed. A bit of her old rebellious streak snaked its way back into her. The pressure of fulfilling a prophecy that looked impossible after three years of steady work and so little to show for it became crushing, suffocating.

  There was no way she could eliminate all the supernaturals on the mortal plane. She would have to live to a thousand—and maybe not even then.

  She sighed and looked out the circular window to her right. The night sky acted as a black backdrop to her translucent reflection. Black circles under her eyes. Hair with split ends. Black lipstick smudged so that her mouth looked like a bruise smack in the middle of her face. What a wreck.

  Her stomach lurching, she turned away so she didn’t have to look at that frightening girl looking back at her.

  Not a girl anymore.

  A woman.

  And what difference did that make?

  “Jessie.” Ree was looking at her, finally with the courage to speak up. Not that he could say anything that could make Jessie feel better. He shouldn’t have bothered trying, but Jessie knew he probably thought it was his responsibility or some stupid shit like that.

  Jessie waved a hand. “Don’t.”

  “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

  She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Seriously?” She huffed and crossed her arms, leaned back in her seat.

  “Yes, seriously. Our whole mission revolves around you. It’s my duty to protect you.”

  Jessie closed her eyes. If she had to listen to any more of this, she’d puke. She could already taste the bile. “I don’t want to hear about your duty.” She spat the last word like a curse word.

  Ree rubbed his toffee colored face with his hands. When he dropped his hands, he leaned forward, an intense look in his eyes. “I’m not using the right words. I ain’t got kids, and the most I’ve dealt with you is on the field. I’m not sure how to talk to you. Sue me.”

  “First off,” Jessie said, “I’m not a kid. Second, I don’t want a pep talk or a ‘things happen for a reason’ speech. I don’t have the stomach for bullshit at the moment.”

  “I’m not trying to bullshit you. I’m trying to…”

  His gaze dropped to the bottle of water on the table between them. The tense look in his eyes turned to soft contemplation.

  An extra punch of turbulence shook the plane, startling Jessie as if someone had snuck up behind her and shouted Boo. Her heartbeat kicked up a notch.

  She laughed to herself. Once upon a time, she had giant vamp wings. She flew through the sky with nothing between her and the wind except her clothing. She had never thought to be scared then. Now, inside an airplane, a little turbulence put a fright in her.

  She chalked it up to the aftershock of adrenaline from the attack at the safe house.

  “Thanks,” Ree said, lip curled.

  “What?”

  “For laughing at me when I’m trying to make an honest effort here.”

  His face was pinched. He really did look hurt. Jessie flushed. She didn’t have to be such a bitch. It wasn’t Ree’s fault Wertz had been killed. No, that weight sat squarely on her shoulders.

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t laughing at you.”

  He hitched a shoulder. “We’re all upset. Those fuckers killed one of the best damn commanders I ever worked for. I don’t care that he was a gnome.”

  Sometimes Jessie forgot Wertz was a supernatural. His presence always dwarfed his physical size. As it turned out, he was even bigger than she had realized. Which raised one of the questions that had bothered her since the attack.

  “How…back at the house…what the hell was that?”

  “You mean Wertz blocking that weapon’s fire?”

  Jessie nodded.

  One corner of Ree’s mouth quirked up. “He’s a gnome.”

  “No fucking duh. But how could he stand there and not get hurt?”

  His eyes narrowed. “You really don’t know?”

  She held up her hands and gave him her best duh face. Ree seemed to need a lot of duhs.

  “Right.” He seemed to mull over his next words. “Where did you normally find gnomes before you knew they were real beings?”

  Jessie scrunched up her face. “I don’t know.”

  “Gardens, right?”

  Jessie instantly thought of an animated movie she’d seen about a whole bunch of garden gnomes at war with each other. A cute little film, but not really her thing. “Okay. Gardens. So what?”

  “What are those gnomes made of?”

  “They’re statues. Their made of…stone?” She had a sense of where this was going, but couldn’t believe it enough to form a conclusion.

  Ree pointed at her and nodded. “Stone.”

  “What are you saying? That—” Despite herself, she ended up drawing a conclusion anyway. “—Wertz was made of stone?”

  Ree leaned back with a satisfied smile. “Not stone, exactly. Something a whole lot stronger. Certainly not something found on the mortal plane.”

  “I don’t get the connection,” Jessie said. “With the garden statues, I mean.”

  “You know how it is. Real details about supernaturals make it into mortal mythology and get exaggerated or reinterpreted.” He shrugged. “Who knows how it really started?”

  A thought smacked Jessie so hard she felt stunned for a moment, wanting to speak and unable to for a few seconds. When she found her voice, it came out in a rush, all jittery and full of breath. “Does that mean he could have survived that explosion?”

  Ree ducked his head. His shoulders drooped. “No. Not something that huge. If I had to guess, he’s the one that caused the explosion in a way. The attackers probably cranked up their weapon to the max and overloaded Wertz until he…” Ree looked up to meet Jessie’s eyes. “Until he burst.”

  Jessie’s vision wavered. She realized it was from tears in her eyes. She wiped them away. No crying. Not now.

  “This is the worst fucking day ever,” she said. Then felt a twinge of guilt because saying that seemed like a betrayal to the day her dad was killed—or the day Mom died for that matter. Or Marty. Jessie had a number of Worst Days Ever. All marked by the death of someone she cared for.

  And Wertz had been the last. There was no one left Jessie could claim as close to her.

  What’s happened with us?

  The answer was simple. She had taken for granted her relationship with Wertz.

  And now she was totally alone because of it.

  Chapter Fifteen

  EARL FARMER SAT BEFORE THE altar of bones, his AR-15 resting across his folded legs, eyes closed, smelling the candle wax melting. He took a deep breath in, held it, released.

  Focus on the breath.

  Another inhale, filling his lungs, his diaphragm expanding outward. He felt the cold of the concrete floor. Ignored it.

  Images of their failure rattled across his inner vision like chewed up footage from an old war documentary. He let the images pass. He exhaled.

  Focus on clearing the mind.

  A pinpoint of light opened in the darkness behind his closed eyelids. He felt heat from the light like a laser beam to his brain. The light dilated into a glaring disc of whiteness. It burned into his soul like a brand. His breathing faltered.

  Focus.

  Back to the breath. In. Hold. Out. Hold. In. Hold. Out. Hold.

  Despite the light’s overwhelming brightness, Earl returned his mind to the quiet. He still felt the light’s singeing blare, yet every time he became aware of it, he gently pushed the sensation aside.

  The light grew larger and larger until it replaced
all of the darkness.

  Then came the feeling of falling, as if he’d jumped from Willis Tower in Chicago, the second tallest building in the world. Yet Earl never hit ground. He kept falling and falling. His stomach dropped. Vertigo swirled in his head.

  His meditation came to an end, his mind moving on to the next stage of the ritual.

  A whistle touched the cup of his ear like a strong wind. All part of the falling sensation.

  He was falling all right—right into the pits of hell.

  The burning grew more imposing, engulfing his whole body now, not just his mind. His sense of his body outside of this internal world, sitting at the altar, left him. For a moment, he could feel his soul cling to his physical form right before it tore loose like a pulled tooth from its socket.

  The falling stopped all at once. The vertigo lingered for a few seconds, as did the ticklish quiver in his stomach that came with the fall.

  Earl stood in a world of pure white. But he did not mistake this place as heavenly just because of its color. No. He knew he had landed in the presence of demons. A secret place between all planes of existence. The place where lost souls came to wander in nothingness, for eternity.

  He staggered backward, gazing up and around like a tourist in New York City admiring the skyscrapers surrounding him. So much of nothing. It didn’t seem possible.

  Something slithered between his thighs and wrapped itself from crotch to kneecap. But when he looked down, he saw nothing. Still, a slimy chill spread from his groin, through his stomach, and straight into his heart.

  He shivered.

  Who’s there?

  A snicker rose from below him. I am.

  Who are you?

  Another snicker, a little deeper, thicker, with a liquid edge. A fellow traveler.

  Hell no, if this thing thought Earl belonged here like the other souls. He had a tether to the living world, but he didn’t dare share that tidbit. Motherfucking thing might try to hitch a ride back with him.

  Let go, Earl said.

  But you’re so warm. So very warm. The thing wrapped tighter around his leg like a python suffocating its prey. Pain pushed down to his bone.

  Earl took a deep breath, simulating the meditative state, and let the pain exist outside his perception. Whatever kind of demonic soul had him, Earl didn’t know how to get rid of it. He should have been more prepared, but after failing to destroy the Chosen One, he hadn’t had time to learn how to fight demon souls. He needed to speak with his master before they lost their trace on the girl.

  Should he ignore the creature? No matter how well practiced Earl was with the meditative state, if the soul squeezed any tighter, the pain would be impossible to ignore.

  Could he reason with the fucker?

  What do you want with me?

  The cold rolling off the thing burrowed its way up to Earl’s neck. Knowing that it wasn’t his physical neck, just a mental construct of his soul, did nothing to comfort him. The demon, physical or not, could kill his soul as easily as a burst of rounds from Earl’s rifle through his brain.

  I told you. Your warmth.

  The thing sensed Earl’s difference, the life that still lit his soul. It might not understand what it felt, but even demons had instincts. Somehow Earl had to convince the thing it didn’t really want what Earl had, or trick it into thinking Earl’s warmth had faded.

  Remember what your mind can control, Earl recalled his master telling him in a dream once. Your mind dominates you. Tap into that dominance and it will set you free.

  Which was what Earl did in the meditative state. Not as fully as his master suggested—not yet. Still, he had to try something.

  Just like he was doing with his physical body, Earl sat down and tucked his legs in akimbo. He sat on pure white, nothingness. He felt like he should still be falling. Something held him up in the middle of this oblivion, though.

  The demon hugged Earl’s leg tighter, cutting circulation to almost nothing.

  There is no such thing as circulation in this place, Earl told himself. That didn’t make it feel any less real.

  Why does it sit? the demon hissed, snakelike.

  Earl ignored the question. The cold oozed through his entire spectral body now. He shivered, feeling naked in a winter storm, even though this place had no seasons and no requirement for clothes. It was just the way Earl translated sensations in the Inbetween. His mortal soul mimicked what it had learned from forty years of existence on a physical plane.

  He closed his eyes.

  What does it do?

  Earl could sense panic in the thing. It didn’t understand Earl’s actions because it had spent too much time wandering in oblivion. For all Earl knew, the demon could have been here for centuries. Plenty of time to forget the meaning or use of physical activity.

  A smirk tugged at the corner of Earl’s mouth. From somewhere came the scent of roses—the scent of the candles burning in the open skeletal palms on either side of the altar. Earl pictured the smiling skull situated at the top of the stacks of ribs, arm bones, leg bones, and spines that made up the altar. He recalled the dusty, ashen feel of the altar’s shelf of bones between the hands holding the candles.

  These were the bones of his brothers who had given their lives for the cause. Their deaths did not stop them from continuing their contributions.

  Earl’s soul must have changed its vibe. The demon quivered around his leg. The wet taste of its fear rolled over Earl’s tongue. Earl’s smirk stretched to a full grin.

  What’s the matter, demon? Do you fear me?

  The invisible beast wrenched itself so tightly Earl expected to hear his bones crack. Pain sparked up into his groin and made his stomach hitch. Bile burned the back of his throat. All the whiteness dimmed.

  Could he fall unconscious in this place?

  Fuck if he would find out.

  He sucked in the deepest breath his diaphragm would allow, ballooning his belly until it hurt a little. He tried to focus in on that small pain, hoping to replace the larger agony from the demon’s squeezing. For a second, he held on. Then the pain through his thigh and into his guts overwhelmed his concentration.

  His exhale came out in a sloppy shudder.

  He couldn’t expect a single breath to take him to full control. He had to fight his way into the meditative state. He took another deep breath. He focused on his belly’s expansion again. The demon squeezed harder. It said something too, but Earl’s concentration kept the words from slithering into his mind.

  Blocking out words was easy.

  Pain, not so much.

  Still, as he continued to breathe in and out, slowing the pace, sinking deeper into his center of being, the pain began to fade. It didn’t go away. Nothing so strong could disappear from sensation entirely. Earl could let it pass every time it reared up on him, though.

  I can control, he said, imagining his master standing before him with an approving smile. I am control.

  Earl opened himself up enough to check on the demon’s reaction. A pulse of pure terror hit Earl so hard he mistook it for his own. But, no, it was the demon’s fear he felt. It was time to move to the next stage.

  Earl used the demon’s cold as fuel, pulling it deeper into him, masking the heat of his soul.

  The serpent squealed like a pig being gutted alive. Its hold on Earl flexed and released. Where does its warmth go?

  Colder. Colder still. Cold so sharp and deep, Earl thought he might kill his connection to life and abandon his body to remain lost in the Inbetween like the rest of the souls here. Like the demon that fed on him now.

  But the more he let his life essence chill, the more the beast fought.

  I have nothing left for you, he told the demon.

  It screamed in response, a scream too human for a creature like this. Earl’s skin cringed against his muscles and bones at the sound. He wondered if it had remembered what it used to be, what it had lost so long ago.

  Let go, demon. You’ve lost what you seek.<
br />
  The thing’s wrapped grip slackened. Something like a whisper in a foreign language expelled from the area where Earl felt it still around his thigh.

  A moment later, Earl felt the thing slither back the way it had come, down between his legs, giving Earl’s shriveled balls one last cold caress. Despite the feel of a “floor” under Earl, the demon seemed to travel downward. Physics had no place in this realm.

  Earl let a shaky breath whistle out his pursed lips. His body trembled with cold. What he’d drawn in himself faded quickly once he disconnected from the meditative state. But the chill from the demon soul lingered like the ghost of a lost limb.

  Well done.

  The voice came from behind Earl, and he recognized it at once.

  He spun around and fell to his knees before his master.

  His master looked like a royal bishop in a long, purple robe lined with white fur, glittering diamonds sprinkled throughout the fur. The robe hung open, revealing his belt buckle, the shape of a goat head, that shined like a heavenly star. To look up at this legend’s soul as if he truly knelt at the master’s feet was an honor Earl would have never imagined seven years ago, before the master’s death, when Earl only knew the man by reputation, like a celebrity. Hell, he was a celebrity, more worthy of the title than that douche bag Tom Cruise. A fool who worshiped a ridiculous fiction when reality had itself a shit-ton of magic all its own.

  He knew the image of his master’s soul reflected Earl’s own ideal and not what the man had looked like in life. Didn’t make the experience any less majestic, though.

  My master, Earl said in a whisper of awe.

  Stand, Earl. You’ve proven yourself my equal.

  Earl stood, but kept his gaze lowered, the flesh of his face warming. Not nearly an equal.

  Look at me.

  Earl lifted his gaze and met his master’s eyes. They shone with an intelligence Earl would never have. Growing up in southern Appalachia, Earl hadn’t known anyone with that kind of smarts. Check on Earl’s accent before now. People like Earl never had the chance for learning. Only his niece had a hint of brains, and only because he had rescued her from her own family and spent the last four years setting her straight so memories of what her Daddy did wouldn’t ruin her.