by Rachel A. Marks
July 1st 2015
Aidan O’Linn’s childhood ended the night he saw a demon kill his mother and mark his sister, Ava, with Darkness. Since then, every three years the demons have returned to try to claim her. Living in the gritty, forgotten corners of Los Angeles, Aidan has managed to protect his sister, but he knows that even his powers to fight demons and speak dead languages won’t keep her safe for much longer.
In desperation, Aidan seeks out the help of Sid, the enigmatic leader of a group of teens who run LA Paranormal, an Internet reality show that fights demons and ghosts. In their company, Aidan believes he’s finally found a haven for Ava. But when he meets Kara, a broken girl who can spin a hypnotic web of passionate energy, he awakens powers he didn’t know he had―and unleashes a new era of war between the forces of Light and the forces of Darkness.
With the fate of humanity in his hands, can Aidan keep the Darkness at bay and accept his brilliant, terrifying destiny?
Darkness Fair (The Dark Cycle #2)
Release Date: February 2nd 2016
Against the backdrop of an ancient battle between the forces of Light and the forces of Darkness, Aidan struggles to control the newly awakened powers that seem to be his only hope for rescuing his little sister Ava, who is now trapped somewhere beyond the Veil. As he gravitates to Kara, the beguiling and dangerously unstable girl who helped him realize his abilities, a terrible mistake of fate is revealed that points him back toward Rebecca, whose role is becoming more critical to the battle. And no matter what his heart wants, it might be too late to stop the pieces already in motion.
Without knowing the sacrifices that will be required of them, Aidan and his motley crew of friends—each with their own role to play—must face the demon threat head-on. They’re the only ones keeping the growing army of Darkness at bay, and if they fail, the future of humanity could be lost.
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DARKNESS
FAIR - Chapter One
I
never would’ve come on this job if I’d known it involved a demon. But last
night during the briefing, Sid acted like it didn’t even involve anything
paranormal.
“Probably just a human thing,” he said. “We can wave a little
smoke, give the client a prayer or two, maybe one of Holly’s happy cookies, and
the nice lady will be feeling better in no time.”
Not exactly. Standing here looking at the client’s massive living
room that’s piled to the ceiling with stuff, I can tell this won’t be as easy
as appeasing a grumpy five-year-old.
“You should’ve brought Connor,” I mumble to Sid as I survey the
mess around us. The thing is here somewhere. I can smell its rotten-egg ass
even over the stale air and must coming from the clutter. Mountains of junk rim
the walls and cover almost every inch of what looks like a very expensive
marble floor. “I can’t believe you dragged me here.” It’s my first time on a
job site since everything went to hell four weeks ago—literally.
If Sid heard my complaint about being here on the job, he isn’t
acting like it. He’s just smiling his salesman smile and listening intently to
the large woman in the silk muumuu on the leather couch as she tells him how
her cat tried to eat her last week. She looks young, midthirties. Too young to
be wearing a muumuu and living in this filthy place. A bit of bandage peeks out
from under her flowery sleeve. There’s an angry-looking scratch on her neck,
too. She ended up in the ER with twelve stitches from the attack.
“Fluffy keeps leaving dead mice lying around, dead rats, even
floppy gophers,” she says, her face wrinkling with disgust. “Dead all-sorts-a-stuff
everywhere. It’s starting to stink no matter which room I sit in, and I can’t
take it anymore. I can’t seem to escape it. And then this happened.” She
motions to the scratches on her neck.
I smell the death, but the odor is layered with the putrid stink
from rotten food, moldy boxes stacked end to end, and piles of clothes mixed
with God-knows-what. Not to mention the sulfur wafting around from whatever
demon is hiding in this place. How can this woman tell one gross thing from
another?
Sid crunches his way over some debris to sit beside the client on
the five inches of couch space still available.
“You rest easy,” he says as he pats her broad shoulder. “My boy,
Aidan here, will take care of anything that’s gone wrong.” He motions toward
where I’m standing by a stack of magazines and DVDs, and the woman looks at me
for the first time since Sid and I walked through the door.
Her eyes grow a little when she studies my face, my hair, her gaze
taking in the markings on my hand and arm for a few seconds longer than normal.
I really should be used to the staring by now. Ever since my
“change,” or whatever we’re calling it, strangers seem to think I’m either
something to marvel at . . . or something to fear. It makes me wonder what
they’re sensing. Just one of the reasons I like staying at the house and
leaving the jobs to the others.
She gives me a half smile, half grimace, her lips tightening over
her teeth, then she turns back to Sid. “I’m not sure what else I can do. I’ll
pay you whatever you want, just please, fix Fluffy. He’s all I have left now.”
Her voice shakes a little and she points to something near her foot that looks
like a plastic box. No, a cat carrier. I hadn’t noticed it among the piles of
clutter.
Something moves inside the carrier. A shadow. The cat? A hiss
emerges, like an answer, and the smell of sulfur billows out even thicker.
A shiver runs through me.
Sid leans on his cane and stands up from his spot beside the woman
as he runs a hand over his bald head. Then he hesitates, like he smells it,
too. He steps back, studying the carrier, then looks sideways at me, a question
on his face.
Could the cat be possessed?
Or maybe the cat isn’t a cat.
“So, Ms. Bentley.” Sid clears his throat. “How long have you had,
um, the, um . . . Fluffy?” He tries to move back toward me, but stumbles over a
box marked As Seen on TV, before steadying himself on a nearby coatrack—his arm
tangles in the strap of one of the very large bras hanging from the hook. He
doesn’t seem to notice, though; his eyes still haven’t left the small cat
carrier at the client’s feet.
“He was a neighborhood stray,” she says, sounding deflated. “I
took him in a month ago, shortly after . . . after my mother died. She hated
cats, so I was never able to have one. And Fluffy was such a sweet thing.” Her
eyes glisten with growing sadness.
She puckers her lips like she’s holding something in. Finally, she
says, “Until a few days ago, he was all cuddles and smooches.”
Well, now Fluffy is all talons and teeth.
“Very sorry.” Sid finishes making his way over to me and pats me
on the shoulder, very fatherly-like. “Aidan will need to look at the, uh, the .
. . your Fluffy.”
I turn to him. “Will I?”
He nods. “The show must go on, my boy.”
Really? Must it?
Didn’t Shakespeare say we’re all actors on the stage of life, or
something? Well, Sid takes that notion very seriously. The twenty-four-year-old
magician is always playing some part or another to fit the game.
He nudges me again and whispers sideways, “I know you’ve been
wanting to jump back in, so here you go. Just see what you can accomplish. It’s
in a cage and all that.” He waves his arm as if he’s just explained how to go
about this.
I glare at him and shake my head. “You’re an ass.”
He lets out a fake laugh and gives the client a look like, Aren’t
teenagers impossible? “It’s a preliminary test, Aidan. So we know what we’re
dealing with.”
I sigh. As much as I don’t want anything to do with this job, I
need to start figuring out my power. It feels like it’s growing, every day,
bigger and louder, like a ringing in my ears. It’s pushing now, this weird
urgency, making me itch to . . . well, kill. It’s terrifying.
I need to get these new urges under control. And if I want to kill
a demon again so badly, why not give it a whirl?
I’m wearing my amulet, so if a corporeal demon is in that carrier
instead of a cat, then it won’t see me. However, if the demon is possessing the
cat, using the cat’s eyes to see, then I’m about to be discovered.
I take a deep breath and step closer to get a look. Following the
boss’s orders.
Ms. Bentley leans toward her innocent Fluffy.
I crouch down to get a clearer view, avoiding the trash at my
feet.
The cat hisses and its plastic carrier jerks and clangs. But the
thing’s not looking at me, it’s more like it’s sensing danger, its hackles
rising. And then I see tiny horns beside the ears, and thorn-like protrusions
on its back through grey-striped fur. Its eyes dart around the room—eyes like
light reflecting off a pool of oil. Its teeth are shiny silver.
Not an actual cat. An actual corporeal demon. Check.
This lady is lucky all the thing did was set her up with a few
stitches. It could’ve scratched off her face entirely.
Prickles work over my skin as I stare at the thing. Corporeal
demons are somehow less disgusting than the ones I see on the other side of the
Veil. The ones that manage to get called up by witches and cross over to the
physical plane are always trying to masquerade as something they’re not, and
sometimes they suck at it—like Fluffy here, a cat with horns. Yes, they’re
still creepy, just not as creepy as when they’re full monty in their spiritual
form.
Looking at it makes the strange new urges in my gut stir,
reminding me that I’m a killer now. Officially.
“Thank you, ma’am,” I say, quickly standing, itching to run but
not wanting to scare the woman more.
I stumble back to Sid’s side and say under my breath, “We’re done
here.”
“What sort of help will you be if you leave?” Ms. Bentley rests a
hand on the carrier, as if comforting the demon inside. “We need help.”
A corporeal demon as a pet. That’s definitely new. I wonder how
she hasn’t noticed Fluffy’s oddities. I mean, horns? Come on.
Maybe the fumes from the rotting crap in the house have messed
with her head.
Sid clears his throat and waves an arm as if trying to keep her
calm with hand gestures. “It’s all right, Ms. Bentley. It’s merely that your
cat may be possessed and in need of an exorcism.”
I turn and gape at him, wondering why he’d spit that out right
now.
She gasps and clutches her muumuu to her chest with a meaty fist.
I nudge Sid. “But my boss and I should maybe discuss it and get
back to you.” Sid’s reading this all wrong. Not surprising, since the guy is
slowly losing his senses from staying too long in this time. But I’m not a fan
of him blurting out made-up shit to the clients before we’ve agreed on what
shit can be said out loud.
“I’m paying you to fix this now!” she says. “I can’t leave poor
Fluffy in a cage forever.”
“We’ll call you,” I say, shoving Sid toward the door before he can
say anything else stupid.
Sid trips over a karaoke machine and nearly dives into the wall
headfirst. But somehow he looks graceful about it, with his thin limbs and
delicate fingers reaching out like a dancer’s. “Don’t let it out of the cage.
We’ll call you tonight,” he says, righting himself effortlessly with his cane.
“And we’ll try to get help here in the morning. Just, please, keep it locked up
until then.”
She stands, watching us maneuver our way out of the living room.
“One more day!” she hollers with a catch in her voice before the door closes
behind us, leaving us on the porch.
I
need a shower.
About the Author
Rachel A. Marks is an award-winning author and professional artist, a cancer survivor, a surfer and dirt-bike rider, chocolate lover and keeper of faerie secrets. She was voted: Most Likely to Survive the Zombie Apocalypse, but hopes she'll never have to test the theory. Her debut novel is DARKNESS BRUTAL, the 1st installment in The Dark Cycle. Book 2 releases February 2nd, 2016 and is titled, DARKNESS FAIR.
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