Darkside Sun (3 page)

A larger room appeared to overlay the small office, its window in a different place. The new desk was larger and still spotless, but maybe mahogany instead of cherry. He reached up to the second-from-the-top shelf of the bookcase nearest the window and came down with a thick leather-bound book that appeared ancient and worn.

I wasn’t sure whether to be terrified, giddy, or relieved that I had finally lost my mind and would soon dwell in blissful insanity within my cardboard-box house nestled under a bridge somewhere.

I wanted to know what was in that book, who Green really was, how he knew so much about the rifts, and everything about the nasty who’d sniffed my hair. Curiosity killed the cat and, maybe soon, the Addison.

The double-image flattened into a single one again as we returned to the office in the AL. My grip on the nearest bookcase kept me from pulling a Fainting Fanny. “What just happened?” I asked. “Who are you?” I wasn’t sure how many more psychotic surprises I could take.

With the oversized book clutched under one arm, he snatched up my pack from the floor with his free hand and opened the buckle. “You will take this volume back to your room and read it cover to cover. No skipping sections no matter how boring they may be to your pea-brain. Can you manage that?”

I felt my answering frown pinch the skin between my eyes. “After so long of hoping there might be someone I could talk to about this, why do you have to be a total ass-face?” I flinched at the razorblades in my tone. I’d never spoken to authority figures like that. Even-keeled, that’s me. Something about Green ripped off my civilized front and set my inner beast loose.

He laughed, then, one sharp crack of sound that rallied the hairs on my nape and sent warmth for a lazy stroll through my girl bits. “Perhaps you’re not a total lost cause, Plaid. There’s a bit of nerve hidden in your small-town mind.” Once he placed the book into my pack—it just barely fit, it was so huge—he re-buckled it and slid it over my shoulders while my lungs went on vacation. I couldn’t get over the fact that he’d laughed at all, or that his voice seemed to tweak parts of my body I didn’t realize could be tweaked with my clothes on.

“Stop calling me Plaid. And I don’t have a small-town mind.” Okay, so I did, but I still didn’t want him to say it like that, all insulting.

Gripping my pack, he used it to shove me not-so-gently to the door. When I reached out for the knob, he put his hand against the door to hold it shut. “If you tell anyone you have this book, have seen this book, or show it to another soul, I will kill you and whoever you show it to. Nod if you understand.”

Did he just say he’d kill me? No, hard of hearing, that’s all. Just in case, I nodded and asked, “Did you kill Kyle Whatshisname? Is that why he’s not around anymore?”

Green made a small noise, and my blood chilled when I realized it had been a dark, sinister laugh that seemed so wrong after what I’d asked. A professor at my university would kill me over the book, and maybe he’d killed Kyle before me.

Mind. Blown.

I had no doubt he’d do it. Nobody could be that good of an actor to pull off demon-does-sociopath. He would kill me somehow—messily, painfully, and slowly, no doubt.
Jesus
. Which meant, no matter how strongly my curiosity wanted me to devour that book, it was too dangerous. I had enough danger in my life.

“I don’t want it,” I said, proud my voice didn’t shake like the rest of me. “Take it out of my bag. If you’re willing to kill someone to protect it, then I’m out.”

“How is it we’ve been talking for ten minutes and you still believe you have a choice in the matter? You will read it, and you will read it tonight. When you’ve cured yourself of ignorance, you will return here and tell me what you’ve learned.” Something tugged gently on my braid, and he sighed. Why was he touching my hair?

Needing to know what look he had on his face, I turned to meet those star-bright eyes and wondered if they’d been the last thing Kyle had seen before Green had bricked him into a wall in the basement of the AL. A random thought, that his face would make a pretty good last sight before the end, flitted through my mind before I gave myself a mental slap. His expression was stone cold blank, so I must have imagined him pawing me.

Of all the questions I could have asked, “What if I finish at four in the morning?” came out.

“Then you will march your rear back here at four in the morning.” He flashed a crooked grin at me. “What part of this are you not getting?”

“Who are you?” I whispered, turning back to the door. He could make fun of me, but I didn’t have to watch. “Who are you really? You’re not any professor of anthropology, right?”

Leaning down to my right ear, he whispered, “Go. Read. Keep it out of sight. Come back when you’re done. Have I put it in simple enough terms for you, Plaid?”

Caught in a shiver he induced in me, I threw my elbow sideways. He grunted and stepped back. “Fine, I’ve got it. You don’t have to be such a giant prick.”

Throwing open the door, I marched through and didn’t stop until I made it out of the AL and into the … night? “What. The. Hell?” I’d been in Green’s office … what … ten minutes? I’d gone to class at quarter to nine in the morning. We’d only gotten two hours of the lecture in before Mr. Bug-Ass sent me over the seats, which put us at ten-thirty. It should have been no later than eleven in the morning, so why was the moon grinning at me through the trees?

I shoved back my sleeve, the fabric still damp from the creepy Bugman snow. My watch read 9:08, as in p.m. A guy and a girl jogged along Ring Road, his loud bray of laughter snapping me out of my shock.

I’d never lost time before today, and now it had happened twice. Probably should have mentioned it to my psycho prof. On second thought, forget that. He didn’t tell me diddly-squat, so I’d return the favor.

The package he’d put in my pack suddenly weighed a million pounds. If I read it, nothing would be the same. All of the answers I’d speculated about since I was little and staring at my unraveling classroom ceiling were at my fingertips. Along with crippling fear came anticipation, thick and heady and undeniable. I was going to read the bloody thing, every page. And I would find out why Green seemed more like an egotistical piece of eye-candy than someone who should be lecturing eighteen-year-olds.

I headed back to V2 as if I carried a load of nitroglycerine instead of leather and pages. Hopefully Ava had hooked up with some idiot as she often did. Tonight I wouldn’t judge her. We all had our priorities. For her sake, I needed her in some other room for the night.

What would be inside those yellowing pages?

Everything.

Chapter 4

I pulled the lanyard laden with keys from under my shirt and unlocked the door to my room. Ear pressed against the steel, I stopped to listen.

Blissful silence within. Somebody loved me.

I slipped inside, smashing my palm against the light switch. The fluorescent in the ceiling buzzed to life, blinding me. I’d never been a fan of the dark, but after my up-close-and-personal with the yummy Green and his frightening
Mr. Hyde
other half, I liked it even less.

Bone-jarring bass thumped to life in the room next to mine as I locked myself in. Muted giggles trickled under my door as a gaggle of girls headed out, probably to the pub on campus. As long as they didn’t come in my room, they could go to Mars for all I cared.

After setting my pack with care on my plaid comforter—I was so happy Green would never see my bedroom since he clearly had something against plaid—I glanced up to make sure the walls and ceiling were still whole. They were. A peek through Ava’s door confirmed she wasn’t in there boning some random guy.

Even alone in my tiny room with only my metal Ikea desk, chair, bed, and shelf full of books, I still felt exposed. Kneeling before my bed, I pulled out my survival kit. Yes, I was a Girl Guide once upon a time, so sue me. I dug through the bandages, alcohol swabs, and the sewing kit to locate my red, pen-sized Mag flashlight Gramps had given me before he died.

Another check of the room. Still alone. I pinched the lit flashlight between my lips, un-wedged the massive book from my pack, and crawled under my comforter. I crossed my legs, my body acting as a tent pole. It was dark and exactly a million degrees under the fluff and puff, but I felt safer under there. Just like old times when I’d sneaked into our library at home to fill my head with knowledge long after little girls should have been tucked into bed.

From under my pillow, I pulled out my baby blanket with its pink silk edging and draped it around my neck like a tiny, tattered scarf. The silk and softness chased back my anxiety, soothed better than anything. It still smelled like home, like Dad.

Arms trembling, I finally allowed myself to look at the book sitting on the sheet in front of me. I palmed the light and leaned over the book cover. The leather had that mottled appearance, faded at the edges where many hands had rested where mine didn’t yet dare to. A border had been tooled around the perimeter: intricate scroll patterns with runes I didn’t recognize woven in almost as if the artist didn’t want anyone to notice they were there. A pair of intertwined, ornate Ms were carved into the center.

The spine had to have been four inches thick. Gold hinges and a clasp—and I was pretty sure it was pure and not plated given the weight of the book—kept the pages sealed against the world. And was that a lock?

I poked at the book, recoiling as if it would turn into one of those
Harry Potter
deals and gnaw my arm off. When it didn’t so much as growl at me, I ran my finger lightly around the edge of the top cover and tried to lift, but it didn’t budge. “Oh, nice, you jerk. You gave me the book but not the key. Very damn funny.”

Gripping the tome in one hand, I tilted it up and turned it around under my light. At least a quarter of the pages were ripped out, leaving only jagged edges behind. No hidden compartments or obvious ways in. Could I pick the lock? My curiosity had grown into an unstoppable force, so I had to do something.

I slipped out of the covers, leaving the book under them. Air, glorious air. I sucked in a lungful as I drew out my kit again, withdrawing my Swiss Army knife. Lip caught between my teeth, I considered how much of a cow Green would have if I marred up the lock on his precious book. I shrugged. Served him right for not giving me the key. If he wanted me to read the thing, it was either jimmy the lock or troop back to his office. Didn’t take me long to decide that one.

I sifted through the tools on my knife and came up with the corkscrew. Not that I knew diddley-doo-dah about lock-picking, but it seemed a logical place to start. I resumed my position in my bed-tent, turned the book on its spine, and flashed the light on to the gleaming lock. Seemed a shame to wreck it.

When I passed my finger over the tiny keyhole, a sharp pain ripped through my hand. I jerked back, leaving a perfect ruby drop of blood on the gold, though I couldn’t see anything obvious that might have cut me. Nausea rolled my stomach. Blood and I never got along when we were in the same room together.

Groaning, I sucked on my finger. As I watched, my blood slipped into the lock, uphill, as if the keyhole had its own gravity. A click, and the freakin’ thing unlocked, though the cover remained closed. I could have sworn the veins in my hand glowed midnight blue for a second, but I blinked and the color disappeared.

“Jesus. Vampire book.” I inched away from the tome. The top cover fell open on its own. Every hair on my body sat up and paid attention. I’d never heard of a book needing a blood sacrifice to open it. Hindu, Greco-Roman, Celtic, Maya, and Inca legends talked of such sacrifices, only it was usually the whole person. Weird.

I leaned over the pages again. The title page read, “Mortal Machine.”

“Mortal Machine,” I said, testing the weight of the words on my tongue. A rush of cold air ruffled my makeshift tent, and the covers blew outward, which meant it wasn’t a draft from outside. I scrambled out from under them again. Had it come from the book? Or from me?

“What the bloody hell is Mortal Machine?” I asked my poster of The Castle, Chichen Itza, the most famous of the Mayan Ruins in Mexico, which was taped to the wall. The poster didn’t answer me. It never did. You’d think I’d stop asking it stupid questions, but I didn’t.

I’d never been a big believer in the whole druid-power-in-the-blood-and-ritual thing, but if reality could unravel like cheap cotton and spill out a bugman, I could buy that other stuff might be real, too. Had it been my blood that had invoked whatever had just whistled through my bed like a winter wind? Or speaking the name of the book? No, that couldn’t be right or it would have happened again while I conversed with my poster. Jeez, could Green not have given me a manual for it? He was probably over there in his office yukking it up while he got wasted on whiskey.

I put a bandage over my cut finger and crawled back under the covers for the third time. The book still sat there, staring up at me in its own Mag spotlight. I ran my fingers along the rough stumps of the missing pages. What a shame. What had been on them? And who’d done it?

Rubbing the silk of my baby blanket between my finger and thumb, I began to read what pages remained.

I became so engrossed, I didn’t snap back to reality until I’d made it halfway through the book. “The wraiths are using people as doorways,” I heard myself saying. Yes, the book called the beings beyond the veil wraiths. The one who’d sniffed at me during Green’s lecture had been one of three known castes described by feel alone—which seemed to indicate that the authors of the book couldn’t see them like I could. Since the Bugman’s cold and creep-factor had only hit my outer flesh and hadn’t frosted my innards, I guessed it was the lowest on the scale.

The Mortal Machine was a secret society of immortal people responsible for keeping the wraiths from crossing over from their world to ours, made up of soldiers and sentinels. The soldiers gathered intel and covered up after a hunt, and the sentinels were the wraith-hunters. Both could feel the presence of wraiths, which most normal people couldn’t sense or see.

Holy shit, was Professor Green immortal? He only appeared to be about twenty, but how long had he been that way? I knew he was a sentinel because the book had described the cold, ice-blue eyes with a star of pure jade green, which they all had. The brighter the color, the more powerful the sentinel and the higher his rank. The soldiers didn’t have any jade star, only a faded shade of ice blue.

Alternate realities? Multiple universes potentially containing other Earths? People tracking and destroying alien-ghost-thingies that could somehow make holes between our worlds to climb through? What would be next? I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, but my curiosity overrode my fear as questions piled up.

What did the wraiths want with our world if they had one of their own? It wasn’t like ours was perfect and pristine or anything with all of the fighting and pollution going on. And how did the sentinels send a wraith back to wherever they came from? Could a rift be opened on our side that led to their world, too? So far, the book hadn’t said anything about that. For now, I needed to know more about what the wraiths could do to people.

And to me, as it seemed they liked me for some reason. Finger passing over the text, I continued on.

The wraiths, we believe, are the dead from a parallel reality, their souls trapped in a void between our worlds. They have found a way to live again through human beings, using them as doorways.

It seems they gain easier access to persons with severe mental illnesses, where they hide within the darkest corners of the mind. Once a melding takes place, the human soul is pushed aside, giving the wraith complete control over every aspect of movement and speech.

A fully melded wraith then only needs to wait the necessary time for the human soul to weaken enough to near death, which is different for every caste. When the human soul is weak enough, the wraith can then pass the rest of the way through the body, stealing the energy left over in the person to take corporeal form on our plane. If this ever happens, they cannot be sent back through the veil.

The state of their reality, how they’ve come to be here, and what they plan to do once they take over our world, remains unknown.

Fear, icy and persistent, crawled into my mind. All I could see was the redheaded whatshername in Green’s class and Mr. Bugman touching her hair. Would it have crawled in through her nape and driven her around until her soul died?

“Oh, God.” The sentinels of the Mortal Machine were all that stood between human beings and their creepy demises. A dead alien had touched me and maybe had been chasing me around for years. I didn’t think I’d ever sleep again.

How did a sentinel send them back to the dark side of the wall? And more importantly, how did they get a wraith out of a person once it had disappeared inside?

I turned the page.

If a sentinel is unable to extract the wraith from its host due to insufficient power or reluctance by the creature to leave the body, the host must be cleansed. The wraith cannot survive the death of its host.

My breath came too fast, too shallow. “Cleanse? As in kill? They really kill people.”

My thoughts turned to Dad all alone at the cabin in Bracebridge. I’d seen the walls there melt a thousand times, but they’d always gone back to normal when I left. What if something had come through while I wasn’t looking? Would I know if Dad had a wraith inside him? And if he did, would the Mortal Machine send Green to murder him? My heart turned into a ticking time bomb. I had to get to Dad.

The blanket disappeared from over my head. I screamed, one short rip of sound that tore open the silence. Still holding the flashlight on the book, I stared up into Ava’s face. Her mouth gaped open. The guy beside her, a muscle-bound jock with a shaved head, laughed.

Remembering what Green had said, I scrambled to cover the pages with the blanket. Wouldn’t do to get my roommate killed over a bunch of paper and leather.

“What’s the matter with you?” Ava asked, hands on her hips. “What are you, twelve? And what are you hiding under the covers? I’d ask if you were using, but you’re too straight and narrow for that.” She snorted.

I almost asked what she thought I was using before cluing in that she meant drugs. “You can’t be here tonight,” I said.

“Tonight? Christ, Addison, it’s almost nine in the morning.”

I fought to keep the shock off my face. Failed miserably. “What?”

The guy chuckled. “Who spends Friday night cuddling under the covers with an old book?” Oh, God, he’d seen it. What would Green do to Baldy if he found out? I launched up and glared at them both. “You can’t tell anyone you saw the book. Especially not Professor Green.”

Ava laughed at first, but it faded, and she took a step back. “Jesus, Addison. Did you steal that? I knew you had a book fetish, but that’s totally insane, even for you.”

“I didn’t steal anything,” I said. “Now, get out of my room, and I meant what I said. Just forget you even saw me today.”

“Stupid freak bitch.” Baldy said, shoving Ava through her door and slamming it shut behind them.

I started to shake, but a few mental mantras of
keep your shit together, Dad needs you
put me back on task. While I rushed to my dresser to start packing, a familiar chill swept the room.
No, no, not now!
Shadows danced in the upper corners of the walls, and darkness crawled down the cinder blocks. I had an insane urge to reach up and see if my hand would pass through before remembering what had come through it last time and what it might do to me.

Why was the veil opening now? Could the wraiths sense the book? Did they know Ava’s guy had seen it? Or was it really me they were after? But why?

Either way, I wasn’t sticking around. I had to warn Dad, though I wasn’t sure how to warn him against something I knew he couldn’t sense, and he was probably safe anyway since he didn’t suffer from any mental illnesses that I knew of. Still, I wouldn’t take any chances that he might become a wraith halfway house.