Darkness Reborn (Order of the Blade #5) (2 page)

The darkness closed in around Sarah, and a sudden chill rippled down her arms, a knowledge so ingrained in her that it told her exactly the moment the sun had set.

It was now.

She had a sudden vision of her stubborn grandmother strutting out of the village, her chin raised defiantly and her leather sandals whispering silently across the ground as she headed into the nightmare of claws, demons and hell beyond what anyone should endure.

Dammit! She would not let that happen. "No!" Sarah slammed on the brakes, and the SUV skidded across the asphalt. She shoved the door open and leapt out, her battered bare feet aching as they hit the pebbles. She raised her arms to the sky, and closed her eyes, tapping into the very depths of her soul.

She pictured her brother, and she let her heart bleed with the pain of his betrayal. She allowed her heart to fill with her love for the little boy she'd raised after their parents had been killed. She recalled the tone of his voice, that deep tenor that was so like their father's had been. She imagined herself standing above his bed while he was a sleeping teenager, praying he would be spared.

She opened her connection and her soul to Jacob, begging him to find her before he spotted their grandmother, tapping into the blood bond they shared and her immense love for him.
Jacob. I'm here. Come find me
.
I'm almost to my destination, and you'll never get me then. You have no time to waste. Come find me, now!

A cool breeze teased over her skin, the hoot of an owl drifted through the woods, but there was no response from Jacob. He hadn't noticed her yet. What was he doing? Killing Nonny?
Jacob!
She screamed his name—

Suddenly, his face appeared in her thoughts, and she felt the cold ripple of his presence in her mind, utterly devoid of the jovial warmth that had been a part of him for so long. She stared into his vibrant blue eyes. The anguish and wisdom in them was so heartbreaking that she
knew
she was looking into Jacob's eyes in that very moment, and that there was still awareness and humanity in them. Dear God, it was after sunset and his eyes were still blue. "Jacob?" Desperate hope leapt in her chest. "You're okay?"

Then his eyes began to glow red, that violent, punishing crimson of death and hate, and she felt her heart shatter again at the loss. Dammit. She should know better than to hope, because losing it was far more devastating than never feeling it in the first place.

Jacob let out a roar of fury. Violent heat burst over her, and she knew he'd targeted her location. He was coming after her. The race had begun.

He wouldn't notice their grandmother now. He would be focused only on hunting Sarah. Yay. Happy day. There was nothing like forcing an assassin's attention onto yourself to reinforce the fact that it's just
not
a good day.

Sarah shut him out of her mind, determined to block their connection enough to make it difficult for him to track her. Last night, she hadn't been ready to block him, and he'd found her the moment the sun had set. But now, she was ready.

Sarah closed her eyes and carefully reinforced her mental shields, trying to block her location from the brother that she'd been so connected with her entire life. It felt cold and empty not to have his warmth a part of her, but it was also a relief, a realization that maybe she had some control over how this played out.

How long could she hold him off? Not three hours. Not when they had always been so close. But maybe there was hope up ahead, around the next bend. Every minute gave her a chance, every minute gave her grandmother a chance.

Her heart thundering, Sarah dove back into the truck, hit the gas and took off into the woods.

How long would it take for him to reach her? Since he was a new Calydon, his teleporting range was still limited, and he would have to make a series of leaps to catch up to her. Had she contacted him before he'd found Nonny? Would his need to kill Sarah be strong enough to get him and his team to forego easy prey?
Please, Nonny, be safe.

And would Sarah be able to survive another night at his mercy?

She looked down at the cracks in her skin, like a porcelain doll about to break, and she knew the answer was no.

But she'd have to find a way to change that to a yes.

* * *

Crack.

Sarah jumped at the noise that sounded like a lightning bolt exploding into a tree trunk by the side of the road, right next to her. It had been almost two hours since she'd let her brother connect with her, two terrifying hours when she'd flinched at every sound, wondering how long she had.

Ten minutes ago, she'd started to hope she was going to make it. She was only an hour away from Nashoba. Forty-five miles. That was all—

Crack.

She jumped again, her adrenaline surging. That sounded too close. Too real. She frantically looked to the left, searching the forest for the red glow of eyes stalking her. She saw nothing but the dark expanse of woods.

Crack.
The sound was ahead of her now.

Crack.
Behind her.
Crack.
To the right.
Crack.
To the left. The night began to bombard her with the sound of Calydon claws digging into tree trunks.

Okay, she definitely wasn't imagining it. Not anymore. They'd found her. They were here. All around. How many were there? One that was teleporting from tree to tree, or dozens of them, leaping along beside the truck? How many had her brother brought to destroy her?

Sarah poised her hand over the button on the dash, knowing she would have only one opportunity. "Come on," she muttered to herself. "Time this right." She had to strike before they attacked, but she needed to wait until they were all close enough to be affected. She had one chance to catch them unprepared.

As men, they were smart and talented.

As monsters, they went on instinct and gut, and her only chance was to be smarter than they were.

She turned off her headlights, leaving only her parking lights to illuminate the isolated road as the SUV raced along, trying to lure her attackers into a sense of safety. The night seemed to come to life, swelling around her like the hand of doom, ready to suck her into its depths, offering all the advantage to the beasts hunting her. The blackness was terrifying, a nightmare from her youth—

No.
She could handle this. She could do this.

Sarah gunned the gas, straining her eyes for that red glow that would tell her where they were. The trees were black specters, striking at the night as the wind took their branches and knifed them across the void.

A dark shape fluttered across the road, and she almost hit the button—

No. An owl. She'd almost moved too soon. Sweat dripped down her forehead at the close call, but she didn't dare take a moment to wipe it away. She had to be ready.

Her only chance was to strike when they didn’t expect it. The impact of artificial light was limited, and if they had time to defend themselves, her assault would be powerless. Her only infallible weapon was her own powers, but the cost to her was too great, especially if she had to hurt her brother...

She jutted out her jaw, and fierce determination swelled through her.
No. She would not let them win.

Then she saw what she'd been looking for: two small red circles glowing at her from a tree ahead, the eyes of a demon watching her. Another set to the right. A third on her left. She grimaced, realizing they were all around her. Her brother couldn't have done the stereotypical male "I-never-ask-for-help" thing and come alone, could he? No, he'd brought the whole damned posse with him. Damn Jacob and his overly social tendencies.

The Calydons were all around her, just like last night. Panic swelled in her throat, and she fought it back, fighting against the urge to be pathetic and terrified.

Terror got her nowhere, and dammit, she had somewhere to be in the morning.

Sarah fixed her gaze on the undulating shadow poised on the tree trunk, those red eyes watching her so carefully, tracking her progress. He was preparing to time the attack with flawless precision.

Yeah, well, so was she, and she was the smarter one, so odds on her. Or not, but positive thinking was supposed to accomplish
something
, right?

Her finger trembled over the button. Ready. Waiting.

She forced her foot off the gas, slowing down, so they would think they had more time and get careless in their attack. Her instincts were screaming at her to floor it, to try to outrun them, but she knew she couldn't. This was her only chance—

Then she heard it.
Click click click.
The rapid triple click, the only warning their prey ever had.
Click click click
from all around her, from each one as they prepared to attack.

Game time...Now!

Sarah jammed her foot on the gas, and the vehicle exploded forward at the same moment that the night filled with black shadows leaping off the trees, right at her. She had a split second of raw horror as she saw that bottomless mouth and the twelve-inch claws coming at her—

Screw being afraid. "Leave me alone!" She slammed her finger down on the button, and the floodlights on the roof of her truck burst to life, lighting up the dark woods as if the angels themselves had unleashed heaven's blessings onto the night.

The night screamed with their agony as the light burned them, and she swerved to the left as one catapulted past her in a helpless free-fall, his wail of agony like the worst suffering in the bowels of hell.

She heard the thud of its body crashing to the asphalt behind her, rendered helpless by the light that he hadn't had time to shield against. Others hurtled past her vehicle, their equilibrium destroyed, the night filled with the scent of their burning flesh. Thud after thud of creatures that used to be men hitting the asphalt, screaming in agony.

Nausea and regret at the harm she had caused flooded Sarah as she fought to regain control of the SUV as it careened across the road toward the woods. "Come on!"

The vehicle finally obeyed, and she realigned it, jamming her foot on the accelerator the moment she had control, hurtling up the dark road again. Guilt burned at her as she drove away from the bodies, leaving them to rot and die from her attack. Although the backlash wasn't nearly as severe as if she'd used her own power to hurt them, the cost was still significant. A bad-ass warrior she would never be, as convenient as it would have been to have that be her professional calling.

How many more were going to be in the next wave? And how soon? She knew they were coming, because she hadn't seen her brother go down. As long as he was still alive, he would be able to track her and bring them straight to her—

"Sarah." The low male voice rasped in her ear, and she yelped, hit the brakes, and whirled around.

Her brother was sitting in her backseat.

Her stomach dropped, and raw terror knifed through her when she saw the blood red glow of his eyes, filled with the promise of death, torture, and a night of her begging for mercy she would never receive. His tousled blond hair was the same as it had been before his change, but his black tee shirt was torn and his skin was stretched taut across the bones of his face, like the demon within was about to break right through his skin. "Jacob, don't do this—"

He lunged over the backseat at her, his claws bared as he went for her throat.

She lunged for the door, but there was nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide. No mercy was coming for her tonight. Only hell.

Even with his chest heaving from exertion, his weapons burning in his hands, steam rising from his bare torso from the humidity, and the earth ruthlessly torn up from the battle, Calydon warrior Kane Santiago wanted more.

He needed more.

He needed to keep going until sheer, raw exhaustion dragged him ruthlessly into the sleep that wouldn't come, until he was so drained that he couldn’t think any more.

Kane had been driving himself relentlessly for eleven days straight, but it hadn't been enough to chase away the gaping void trying to consume him. It had been coming at him for months, this great pit of darkness, stalking him at every moment, but now it felt like his entire soul had been sucked from his body and thrust into a bottomless void of blackness.

He didn't know what was coming for him or how to stop it. He didn't have answers. All he had was a scarred body that looked like an artist had used his flesh for a canvas and a knife for a paintbrush, and a thousand unanswered questions about a past he didn’t remember.

Kane's skin looked like ancient designs had been carved into it, but no one on this God-forsaken earth could explain why he had them or what they meant. Kane's memories of his life began five hundred years ago, the day Dante Sinclair, the now-deceased leader of the elite team of Calydon warriors called the Order of the Blade, had hauled him out of the gutter. How old had Kane been that day? Thirty? A hundred? Two hundred? How had he ended up there, covered in body art of the most brutal kind?

He had no idea, but the story carved on his body and the enormity of the blackness hunting him made it clear that there was shit he needed to know about his prior life, and he was running out of time to do it. In his five hundred years as an Order member, he'd spent every day fulfilling the Order's mission to protect innocents from rogue Calydons, grimly willing to sacrifice one innocent to preserve the greater good, but no matter how hard Kane fought in defense of the Order's moral code, it still hadn't filled that void inside him, an emptiness that had been taking on a decidedly violent taint lately.

The void he could live with. The uncontrollable need to inflict violence on others without justification? Not so much. That shit had to stop, and now.

The air in the southern Oregon woods was thick with moisture, rich with the scent of earth saturated by the rain that was too cold for this time of year. Thick fog was rolling in fast, sucked in by the dance of the heat and cold. The air Kane was breathing was alive with vibrant energy, and yet all he could feel was the endless free-fall of his spirit into the bottomless chasm of darkness.

"These guys were serious shit." Caked with sweat and blood from the battle, Ryland Samuels crouched beside one of the two rogue Calydons they'd been hunting for the last eighteen hours, deadly bastards who had put up a hell of a fight before Ryland and Kane had taken them down. Usually two-on-two battles were weighted so heavily in favor of the Order of the Blade that they lasted less than a second—but once they'd finally found the bastards at sunset, the two rogues had kept Ryland and Kane at max capacity for over two hours before the good guys had won.

The fact that the battle was so tough was bizarre as hell because the rogues had been so underdeveloped physically that they couldn’t have been more than eighteen years old. They'd been only a month or two past the dream that had brought them into their powers as immortal Calydon warriors. No rookie should ever have been able to put up that kind of battle against elite warriors who had been saving the world for over five hundred years.

And yet they had.

Which meant the Order needed to find out what they were, where they were from, and why they were both rogue. Rogue Calydons were bad shit, and the odds of two Calydons going rogue as a team almost nil, so the Order needed to make sure that these two were an anomaly, and not a trend.

Ryland hooked his machete under one of their wrists and raised the dead warrior's hand. "What's with the manicure?"

Ten-inch claws protruded from the tips of the Calydon's fingers, still covered in Kane's blood from when it had tried to cleave his heart out. "Maybe they came up from Hollywood," Kane said. "You know how those fancy Californians are all bailing up to Oregon nowadays. How the hell would I know what his deal is?"

Ryland narrowed his eyes at Kane's aggression. "You seen it before?"

"No. Calydons have weapons, not claws." Kane shifted restlessly as Ryland nodded his agreement. He was unable to settle now that the battle was over. He was on edge, his instincts still ready for more action. He knew they needed to figure out what was up with the rogues who had invaded their territory, but he couldn't focus. All his senses were on overload, telling him that something was deadly wrong. He scanned the woods, hunting for a clue, but came up with nothing.

Ryland dropped the kid's wrist. "What's your deal, Santiago?"

Kane whirled around to face his teammate, his adrenaline leaping at the tense undercurrent in Ryland's voice. "What?"

Ryland flashed him a grin that didn't reach his pitch-black eyes. "I'm the one who's supposed to be on the edge of going rogue, not you. You planning to snap so you're the next one who has to be cut down to save the world, instead of me?"

"I'm not going rogue." Usually, a Calydon went rogue only after bonding with his
sheva,
the woman destined to be his soul mate for all eternity. The bond between them, once completed, was destined to turn him rogue and destroy both of them and all that mattered to them once all the stages of bonding were completed. However, a rare few turned into mindless, killing machines even in the absence of a
sheva
. Expectations were high that the moody Ryland would soon fall into the latter category, but Kane had his shit together. "I'm fine."

Ryland rose to his feet, his well-muscled bulk innately aggressive. His black jeans and t-shirt had been shredded mercilessly from the fight. "Don't lie to me, Santiago. There's no room for that shit between us."

The black brands in Kane's arms burned, and he fisted his weapons, a set of doubled-spiked flails with spiked balls spinning on the ends of the steel chains. The clang of the metal balls cracking against each other jerked Kane's attention to them, and he suddenly realized how close he was to launching himself at Ryland.

He was ready to strike first against his own teammate? Kane swore and sheathed his weapons. They vanished into the air, returning to the brands on his arms that were an exact match for the weapons they housed. He held up his hands in surrender. "Stand down. I'm good."

Ryland sheathed his own weapons, taking the temptation away from both of them. "Shit, man. You're off, big time."

"I—" A sound caught Kane's attention, and he turned sharply. "Did you hear that?"

"What?" Ryland went still, and the air hummed as both Calydons reached out into the night with their senses.

For a moment, Kane heard nothing but the skittering of rodents' feet, the hoot of owls, and the crackling of the earth as it drank in the moisture from the night.

Then he heard it again.

A woman's scream. Unending terror and pain. The roar of a spirit fighting desperately and hopelessly for its very survival.

The sound went straight to Kane's core, ripping through his shields like a burning knife into his heart. His whole body vibrated in response, adrenaline raging with the need to find her. To protect her. To save her. Kane spun around wildly, almost desperately, trying to pinpoint the sound and determine where it was coming from. It was bouncing off the trees, echoing in the air, coming at him from all directions, like an assault of agony. "Fuck!"

"What?" Ryland strode up beside him. "I don't hear anything."

"How can you not hear that?" She screamed again, eviscerating every defense Kane had. He had to go. Had to find her. Had to save her and find out who she was.
She needed him.
Black light flashed above the brands on his arms, a loud crack split the night, and then Kane's weapons appeared in his hands, the glittering steel ready for battle.

"What is it?" Ryland called out his own machetes with a crack and a flash of black light. "I'm picking up nothing. Tell me what you got."

Kane shoved his teammate aside, his entire soul howling with the need to find the woman. "Where are you?" he bellowed, his voice echoing into the night.

No response. Just the ominous echo of silence. Was she dead?

Uncontrollable grief ripped through Kane at the thought of her being dead, a loss so severe he went down on his knees, gasping for breath. He braced his hands on the earth, his fingers digging into the moss, fighting against the crushing blackness, the loss, the shredding of his innermost core—

Help me.
The desperate plea invaded his mind, a woman's voice filled with pain, anguish and betrayal.

Kane's head snapped up, instantly alert. She was alive! His entire being vibrated with rightness at the sound of her voice. He lurched to his feet as her anguish shredded his mental shields and consumed him.
I hear you.
He sent out his reassurance, his iron strength, showing her the immense power he offered.

There was no relief from her. Just another stab of pain that knifed all the way to Kane's gut.
Hurry. Please hurry.

Son of a bitch! Kane focused every fiber of his soul on her, and his entire existence honed in on those words, on her voice, on her spirit, on her very being.

Then he located his target. He knew where she was.
I'm coming.

Kane didn't hesitate. He didn't pause to question the intensity of his response to her or ascertain what he was heading into. He didn't even take the time to grab his teammate and take Ryland with him. He just locked onto her location and dematerialized, using her desperation as his only guide as to where he needed to be.

* * *

Sarah felt her soul disintegrating into a thousand pieces as she clutched her hand over the wound in her side. Strewn around her on the road were dozens of dying Calydons, she had destroyed. Her chest ached, and her heart felt like daggers were digging their way through it. She'd killed them all. Every last one.

They'd kept coming, one by one by one, goading her into attacking them to stay alive, forcing her to take one step closer to the death of her body and her spirit. Fever burned, her head ached, her vision was blurry, her mind numb with the horror of what she'd done.

There was one more assailant left. The one who was there to bring her down. The one who had been waiting to make his move until she was so worn down that she would have no more defenses.

"Go away," she whispered, her throat so raw from screaming that she could barely make a sound. "Please don't do this, Jacob."

But there he came, prowling around the end of her SUV, her blood dripping from his claws. Her younger brother's blue eyes were glowing blood red, bottomless pits of torment and violence. His tee shirt was spotted with her blood, his jeans torn. On his arms were the violent black brands in the shape of a sickle, too thick and too dark for a Calydon who'd come into his powers only two days ago. He was so much more than he should have been.

Dammit! How could he have succumbed the way the others had? This was her
brother
. Around his neck glittered the talisman she'd given him when he was sixteen, hoping it would be enough to keep the monster at bay. There it hung at his throat, taunting her for thinking she could save him, that somehow, this time, love would be enough to protect a male from the curse. "Come on, Jacob! Be stronger than this!"

He growled, an unearthly, inhuman sound that brought back nightmares of the night Mason had attacked. She scrambled backward, instinctively reaching for the baby that was no longer there, the one she hadn't been able to protect. Her hands closed over air, and for a second, she panicked, then reality came crashing back on her. There was no baby this time. It was just her, and her brother. “Jacob! Dammit! Don’t do this!”

Something flickered in those red eyes, a flash of blue, and she realized he still had a chance. He wasn’t lost entirely. “Jacob! Don’t let this consume you! You’re stronger than this—”

He stopped his approach and stared at her, his body coiled to attack.

She froze, afraid to trigger him. “Jacob,” she urged. “It’s me. Your sister. You love me.”

Silence hung between them, and her heart began to pound with hope. Would he come back? Would he—

He attacked, launching himself at her.

She screamed, but she had no chance to get away before his claws sank into her stomach. Sarah gasped as pain rushed through her, and she saw the promise of death in his eyes. She knew she had no choice. Once again, she had no choice. “Damn all of you!”

He lunged for her heart, and she unleashed the white light buried within her. Her skin radiated out into the night with such intensity that the entire forest glowed.

Jacob screamed and stumbled off her, covering his eyes as his skin began to blister.

Sarah gasped as the backlash of her powers hit her. Pain knifed through her, and she clutched her stomach, gasping at the agony slicing through her. She fought to cut off her powers and end her attack before she could kill him, shoving aside the intense heat radiating from her, yanking it back into her and away from her brother.

Jacob was sprawled a few yards away, writhing as the light burned him. Sarah trembled, and tears streamed down her cheeks as she looked at the man she loved so dearly, dying in front of her. She pressed her palm against the wound in her belly as the shakes and nausea overwhelmed her. Hollowness began to fill her, a bottomless abyss of nothingness.
Death.
It was coming for her, ready to decimate the final shreds of her soul.

No!
She couldn't succumb. She had to find faith again. There had to be something worth living for, something good inside her. Desperate, she searched her heart for something to believe in, but there was nothing there. Just the betrayal of her brother, the loss of so many she loved, the truth of so many lives she'd taken. There was nothing left to hold onto, nothing to pull herself out of the pit that was consuming her.