Thea Harrison: Rising Darkness

Nicholas seemed to look back at her, but he didn’t say anything.

She turned the statement into a marching rhythm and trudged, not ran, away.

Do as you’re told.

Do as you’re fucking told.

Would she know if he died? Were they attuned enough to each other so she would sense his passing? If she did, how would she bear it? They had just found each other. She’d barely had one day of feeling whole and sensual. One day of feeling the most astonishing and necessary passion.

One day of feeling real, not like a shadow of a person.

Give us a chance, he had said. But what if their chance was taken from them?

She remembered the final images from her last life. After an immeasurable endurance of pain, she had opened her eyes to find him bending over her. He had looked different, of course, but all she’d had to do was look into his gaze, and she had known him. They had only had time to exchange those few precious sentences, their only contact in almost a thousand years. Her chest felt constricted with something hot and hurting.

Just in case there was a God, and he had some time to spare, she whispered, “Why did you do this to us? How are we supposed to bear it? Or did we do it to ourselves? Is all of this our fault? It’s not my fault and it’s never been Michael’s. We’ve only tried to help.”

A sickening, vertiginous lurch clutched at her. She felt as if she were falling, followed by a sharp shock of impact. Gasping, she went down on one knee and struggled with disorientation.

Nicholas knelt in front of her. What happened?

She held up a hand and managed to articulate one word. Hush.

The ghost fell silent, watching her.

The feelings disappeared as quickly as they had come. She whispered, “Michael’s taken a bad fall.”

Even as she said it the spray of gunfire sounded again, several staccatos at once.

That was when she gave up all pretense of trying to reach the lake. She turned around to face the direction of the cabin and sent all her desperate attention toward him. The physical world dimmed as she concentrated on what she could sense in the psychic realm.

Images slammed into her. The air was thick and black with innumerable dark spirits. They swirled and swooped on two figures that blazed with light. One of them was tall and masculine. Michael had already regained his footing from the fall. The other was smaller and feminine. Even from that distance, Mary recognized Astra in her astral form.

Astra’s figure never appeared to move, but the dark spirits that swirled to attack her sizzled away to nothing, like moths encompassed by a pure, lethal flame.

Michael’s blazing figure wielded a bright spear of light that slashed through attacking dark spirits even as, in the physical realm, he killed the men that rushed him.

Pride and fear for him locked her throat. To fight like that in multiple realms at once . . . he was incomparable. But there were too many spirits, and too many men who were suicidal with recklessness.

As she watched, Astra’s bright figure flickered. Mary thought she heard the other woman call, I cannot stay any longer.

Then Astra disappeared from the scene. She blinked out of the scene as abruptly as if she had never been present.

Her departure left Michael all alone.

They battered him to the ground by sheer force of numbers.

Approaching the battlefield at a stroll was a black diamond man. Mary wanted to vomit out this reality but she was helpless to stop what she witnessed.

Then the black diamond man bent over the radiant one, and Michael was taken.

SHE LEAPED UPRIGHT. Her bleeding feet grew wings as she raced back toward the cabin. The decision was no longer based on a question of intelligence versus stupidity, or doing what she was told, or even based on some fragile hope for survival. She knew she was running back to her death, or something much worse. But she ran anyway, because she couldn’t do anything else.

The kestrel dove at her head, shrieking, and Nicholas stood in the path as if he would bar her way. She waved an arm at the bird and ran through Nicholas’s insubstantial form.

As she passed through him, for a moment she felt intense warmth. A knife flashed at the edge of her/his vision, quick as a striking snake. It sliced across her/his throat. Blood spilled down her/his front, and she/he fell to the ground.

Then she stumbled out the other side, gasping, and left both the ghost and the vision of his death behind her.

She didn’t have time to marvel at another weird experience, or mourn what had happened. Regaining her balance, she raced down the path.

Before she could make it halfway back to the clearing, the black diamond man began to emit a strange humming noise, a harsh discordant vibration that made her want to claw at her ears. The noise grew louder and intensified. It tore a rent through the psychic realm, and Michael’s vibrant, powerful energy began to keen with strain, like crystal about to shatter.

Her existence narrowed to a screaming denial.

WAIT! She hurled the word with the full force of her terror.

It was a horror. It was a miracle. The black diamond man hesitated before destroying Michael utterly.

There you are, Mary. The man’s voice was creamy with satisfaction. Didn’t I say you might have been happier to leave all of this alone?

Demented with fear, she said, You wanted me once. Do you still want me?

The black diamond man laughed. How do you know I won’t have you after Michael’s been destroyed?

You won’t get me again that easily, you son of a bitch, she said. Let him go and I’ll walk back. I swear it.

And if I don’t?

Panic had her scrambling for scraps of supposition and guesswork that were so insubstantial it felt like she tried to clutch at dust motes dancing in the air. Make no mistake, together Astra and I are more than strong enough to bring you down.

That’s assuming you can get free to join her.

She lifted her gun and clawed at the safety catch, transmitting everything she did down the telepathic link. Then she put the muzzle to her mouth. I can stay free of you, one way or another. I’m going to count to three. Then I’m pulling the trigger, and you know I’ll be back.

Years from now? His chuckle was a darkness that crawled around in her brain. I think I’ll concern myself with that when it happens. Right now I’m going to enjoy destroying your twin. He’s been such a pain in my ass. This is the first time I have EVER had him pinned to the mat. I’ll deal with you after he’s gone.

She flung everything she had into one insane bluff. I’m healed, and I have all my memories back. And I remember how much I loathe you. Destroying you will be the only reason for me to continue existing.

Funny, he said. We haven’t answered one vital question. Are you sure you CAN exist when Michael’s gone?

He and I have existed without each other for nine centuries, remember? Bitterness burned at the back of her throat.

No, Mary. You and he haven’t SEEN each other in nine centuries. Existing in the universe without his energy to complement and balance yours is something I don’t think you’ve learned how to do. Ariel and Uriel hadn’t learned it. Neither had Gabriel and Raphael. I would destroy one twin, and the other just . . . unraveled. Both times it was kind of like pulling a snag in a knitted sweater.

Destroying Michael won’t unravel me. You saw to that. She projected as much conviction as she could. You altered my spirit. You changed me.