Jenna Black - Dark Descendant

By the time I got back to my room, I doubted I could find my way to the front door without help, and I was so tired my eyes ached. I locked both the door to my suite and the door to my bedroom before finally allowing myself to collapse into bed and fall into a deep, untroubled sleep.

It was still pitch dark out when I awoke. A nightlightglowed faintly from the open bathroom door, and there was a little light cast by the digital clock by the bedside, but otherwise the room was oppressively dark. I was used to the lights of the city creeping around the edges of my curtains, and to the sound of cars passing by at all hours of the day and night. Here in Anderson’s mansion, I felt cut off from humanity, alone and out of my element.

I didn’t know what had awakened me, but the shiver of unease trailing down my spine told me something was wrong . I lay still and peered into the darkness, checking to see if anything was amiss. When nothing immediately tweaked my threat radar, I almost let my eyes slide closed again. I was still dead tired.

But there’s something inherently disturbing about sleeping in an unfamiliar room, especially when that room is part of a huge, pre-Civil War mansion inhabited by supernatural beings, and I couldn’t just dismiss my nerves. I stifled a yawn and sat up, wishing the room weren’t so damn dark.

I started to reach for the bedside lamp, and then froze as my eyes picked out a man-shaped patch of shadow in the darkness. A man-shaped shadow that wasn’t looming over me, as I’d half-expected, but that was lying on his side on the bed beside me, his head propped on his hand.

I couldn’t make out his features in the dark, and so I had no idea who it was. Until he moved and I heard the telltale clicking of the beads in his hair.

With a yelp of alarm, I tried to throw myself off the bed, reaching for the lamp as I did so. I figured Jamaal knew the layout of this room better than I did, and I’d have a better chance of making it out the door if I could see where I was going. But Jamaal was faster than me, and before I could pull the chain on the lamp, he’d grabbed my arm and yanked me back onto the bed.

I tried to get in an elbow jab, but my movements were hampered by the sheets tangled around my legs. My jab missed, and moments later I found myself pinned face-down with my arm wrenched up behind my back. Jamaal was big and powerful, and my struggles were useless. I considered screaming for help, but then decided against it. I doubted anyone else in the house was close enough to hear, just as I doubted there were a whole lot of them who would be eager to help me against Jamaal, who was one of their own.

“How did you get in here?” I gasped. “I locked the doors.”

Okay, it was probably a pretty dumb question under the circumstances. It really didn’t matter how he got in my room. But I guess I wasn’t eager to face the important question—what was he going to do to me?—so I ignored it in favor of the trivial one.

Jamaal laughed humorlessly, but at least he wasn’t actively hurting me. Yet.

“There is no lock strong enough nor wall thick enough to keep Death out,” he murmured, his lips close to my ear so that I could feel the puff of his breath against my skin. The ends of a couple of his braids had found their way under the collar of my flannel night-shirt and tickled the base of my neck.

“Are you speaking literally or metaphorically?”

I felt his slight jerk of surprise. I guess he’d expected me to cower in fear at his menacing words, and there was certainly a part of me that was afraid. But there was another part of me that was getting just plain fed up with all the bullying and threatening, and that part was keeping my fear at bay.

Jamaal’s hand tightened around my wrist, although his grip had not yet gone from uncomfortable to painful. “You think because I can’t kill you that I can’t make you suffer?”

I snorted. “I’m not an idiot. But you’re going to do whatever you’re going to do no matter what I say, so I figure I might as well speak my mind.”

I no longer made any attempt to struggle against his hold. What was the point? “Fair enough,” he said, still talking into my ear. I noticed his breath smelled faintly of clove cigarettes. I guessed as an immortal, he didn’t have to worry about lung cancer. “I’ll speak my mind, too. I think you’re a lying, murdering spy who works for the Olympians.” His grip on my wrist tightened at the words, and I clenched my teeth to suppress a whimper of pain.

“I think you murdered my friend and that you’re going to string Anderson along with hopes of finding Emma while you gather information for your boss. And I think Anderson is too desperate to believe in you to think straight.”

“Ever considered that you might be the one not thinking straight?” I asked, my voice tight enough that he couldn’t miss the fact that I was in pain. He surprised me by loosening his grip.

“I’ll be watching you,” he continued, ignoring my question. “If I see even the slightest hint that you’re playing us false, there will be hell to pay.”

He rolled off of me and sprang to his feet in one fluid motion. My lizard brain urged me not to move from where he’d left me, fearing any movement might incite him, but I couldn’t just lie there on my stomach being Little Miss Submissive.

Swallowing the lump of fear in my throat, I carefully turned over onto my side and pushed up onto my elbow. Jamaal didn’t pounce, but he didn’t go away, either.

“I was speaking literally,” Jamaal said, and for a moment I had no idea what he was talking about. “Locks can’t keep me out. If you fuck with us, there’s nowhere you can hide that I can’t get to you. If you’re out of here by the time the sun rises, I’ll give you a free pass no matter what you deserve for killing Emmitt. But if you stay in this house and I find out you’re working for Konstantin…”

Before I could even think what to say, he stalked away from me. I could barely pick out his shadow in the darkness of the room, but I was pretty sure he passed through my bedroom door without even bothering to open it.

After Jamaal left, Igot up and turned on the light. I’d never be able to get to sleep if I didn’t explore every nook and cranny of my room to make sure I was alone. I was not at all comforted to find that the bedroom door and the entrance to my suite were both locked. I wished I could believe I’d dreamed Jamaal’s visit, but I knew I hadn’t. If he could pass through locked doors, then I supposed he could have escaped from his basement cell on the night of Emmitt’s death, despite all the pounding and shouting I’d heard. Of course, if passing through the locked door would have earned him another date with the Hand of Doom, I didn’t blame him for choosing a different form of protest.

I made a halfhearted attempt to go back to sleep, but I failed miserably. The dark was too oppressive, and my fears were too overwhelming.

Jamaal had threatened to hurt me only if I double-crossed Anderson, but it was obvious he’d be looking for the slightest excuse to condemn me. What if I couldn’t find Emma? After all, I had as yet found no evidence of any supernatural hunting ability, and with Emma I didn’t even know how to start. Would Jamaal take my lack of progress as evidence of betrayal?

I shoved the covers away and got out of bed, turning on the light. Sleep was an impossibility, no matter how much I might prefer to escape my situation by slipping into dreamland.

It was almost five in the morning, so at least I’d gotten a few solid hours of sleep before Jamaal had awakened me. I tended to be an early riser anyway, so I tried to tell myself I wasn’t really getting up in the middle of the night, even though my body cried out for more rest.