Mark of Betrayal (Dark Secrets #3)

I had no memory of taking the steps to the lighthouse roof, no memory of climbing up and finding my way to the edge, but as I stood atop it, the wind whipped its wild fury against my nightdress, and my hair lashed out behind me, circling back in my face and around my neck.

The sun turned the base of the clouds red, and thunder rolled over the ocean, raising the waves into a swirl of viscous claws, gripping the rocks below.

Under me, a light flashed out to dawn sailors, warning all of the treacherous beast that lay among the rough seas—Do not dare endure her heart, it screamed, for you will surely be destroyed.

I slowly reached up and yanked David's locket from my neck. It felt so heavy, weighed down by guilt. I had no right to wear it any longer.

I took another step toward the edge, wiping my hair and the mess of tears from my cheeks, but didn’t look down—couldn’t look toward my fate. The Devil could take me, he could have my ruined soul, but I would not look into his eyes as I fell into his arms.

I closed my eyes, and the wind cried, howled across the planes behind me as my toes edged out over the emptiness. And, holding my breath, I launched myself with a soft step, into the open space of nothing.

Silence.

Peace.

There were no voices here, no tears, no regrets.

The ocean roared louder the closer I came, calling to me, reaching for me like claws of sanction, pounding the rocks with blowing, bursting white foam.

I closed my eyes and lifted my chin, feeling the ocean rip the locket from my fingers as darkness obliterated everything else.

When you disregard your own heart, you betray the ones you love before you’ve even committed the act.

As the ocean waves washed over this desiccated, abandoned wreck, I waited for death to come—or maybe it was already here, and the agony paralysing me, preventing me from lifting my face out of the drowning waves, was Hell.

The sun had not returned from its prison in the clouds, and the darkness felt empty, scary—like anything could be out there, but nothing worse than what I’d become.

I had to get up. I had to try again. I couldn't let myself live to tell David what I did with his brother—or what I truly felt for him.

“Let me go?” I asked softly. “If there is a God up there—” I rolled my head, choking on the burning salt water, “—just take me, please?”

A sharp ache and a rushing frost spread over my entire body then. I could feel my limbs being pulled, shifted, moved about by the ocean—could feel the rocks gashing my soggy skin, and I wanted to feel it. I wanted to feel that pain.

When I closed my eyes, I saw a face—David. My David. He looked so scared; his eyes round, ragged, a kind of horror filling them, dragging his soul down behind those tears.

“David?” I whispered. “Why are you crying?”

“Because I lost her,” he said.

I stood beside him on the beach, watching the waves shape the rocks, making that fragile body a part of their imprint for eternity. White cloth shifted as the waters receded, and black tendrils floated out from her head, like snakes on the skull of a beast.

“It will be a good death,” he whispered.

“One suited for the fiend she was.”

“No—she wasn't evil; she was just a girl,” he said, suddenly squatting beside her, lifting her head. “She just got lost and couldn’t find her way home.”

“What will you do with her?” I asked.

“Help her.”

“No, let her die.” I turned away, disgusted in her.

“I will. But she needs help. She can't die on her own.” He dropped her head back into the water and held it under. “It’s strange to see her like this—to hate her so much after I loved her.”

“What changed; why did you stop loving her?” I asked.

He looked up. “She betrayed me.”

My eyes flashed open to the dry, open surrounds of the field. The grass remained still, even in the breeze, but my hair lashed out around my face.

I stood under the tree, looking off to the cliffs.

A silhouette appeared over the horizon, stumbling, and as he came closer, time lapsing to show his movements in skipped scenes, I saw his face—saw him holding his breath; lost, unable to cry. He carried a girl so close to his heart she looked like a child, while her bloodied arms hung down loosely from her body, her neck tilted back awkwardly, her dark hair dripping with blood and regret.

“Leave her there, David,” I yelled, watching him pass. “Put her back!”

But he didn't hear me. He walked forward, knowing what he had to do; knowing nothing else in the world mattered but to make her safe, because he had no idea what he was saving.

His eyes were aged with the pain in his heart, his soul withering under dying hope. He walked with the strength of an eighty-year-old man, and I loved him for that, but hated that, even in death, she brought him pain—the only colour she ever gave his life was in blood.

He started screaming before he even reached the steps to the Great Hall, his voice travelling throughout every corner of the manor. But no one would come. Not if they knew the truth. They would say Let her die.

He fell to his knees, dropping the girl to the polished floor by the table she dined at every night with those who once loved her. He tried to touch her—to make her pain go away, but he just didn't know where to place his hands. “Oh God.” He covered his mouth. “I should never have left you alone so long. What have I done?”

I stood over him, blinking, watching, wondering if he would cry such deep agony if he knew what she’d done.

“My love.” He calmed, placing a flat hand to her chest, feeling the stillness that accompanied death. “Please. Please don't be gone. Please.”

All around us then, the sour scent of shock and fear filled the room as, one by one, faces came from the shadows and stared at the bleeding, massacred remains of my once beautiful body.

Each person stood motionless, no one coming to her aide. Perhaps they knew. Perhaps they’d been told what lies would do—how they would destroy, trap, torture any who bathed in the profits.

An eerie silence drew the air in then, like taking a deep breath, as the energy of four familiar beings broke the crowd; I heard them scream, heard them cry, but couldn't understand it. Why would they do that, when they know what she is? Why did Jason fall to his knees beside his brother and search for a place to touch this girl—a way to hold her? What was it she meant to them that they could cry for her, when she did such terrible things?

David knelt back, closing his eyes, as the people around stared at him and Jason—side by side, both alive. Shock marred any joy they may heave felt as realisation sunk in.

The king had returned.

Mike stepped in then and slipped his hands under my knees and ribs, but Jason held strong long enough to kiss my brow, his lips bloodied as Mike tore me from his arms. I heard none of the yelling, but saw their eyes, their mouths wide as they all screamed at each other, blaming each other—forgetting my broken body, forgetting what needed to be done.

But one knew. One slowly walked up, pried my body from Mike’s arms and walked away, speaking a name into my brow as he left the arguments behind.

“Put me back, Arthur,” I said quietly, knowing he wouldn’t, even if he did hear me.

Chapter Twenty

David sat by the bedside, holding her hand, whispering a prayer into her skin, while Jason leaned on my dresser, watching through tear-worn eyes. I could tell from how still the body was that she hadn't started breathing yet. They’d sewn her flesh up with tight, jagged stitches, washed the blood away and dried her hair, but she wasn’t there anymore.

And I wasn't going back.

Jason looked up then, to where I stood at the foot of the bed, and his pupils became darker, larger, the colour draining from his face. I looked behind me, saw nothing there, then frowned at him, moving a little closer.

“Jase, can you see me?”

He stood from his lean and unfolded his arms, reaching into thin air. As he moved, I saw a pale-blue light in the reflection—faint, hard to see; its lashing spectrums fading with every tick of the clock on the wall. I felt his fingers go through me, like a sick feeling, and looked down my own body, seeing it as it was when David pulled me from the ocean.

Jase didn't see what I saw—the ruined remains—he saw something beautiful, ghostly, while I was lost in the nightmare of a horror movie.

“Jase?” I looked up from his hand. “Did you tell him—did you tell David?”

He shook his head.

“Kill me—” I looked back at David. “He can never know. You have to kill me.”

“Ara,” Jason whispered, and everyone in the room looked up; I couldn't see their faces, but felt their eyes—their energy.

“What is that?” Arthur walked over and reached out.

And as if I was some freak on show at a fair, several hands came through my body.

“Ara?” David stood, staring; his eyes tracing every inch of what I knew he saw as light. “Is that you?”

His warm hand went through my gut, and my soul broke apart, catching hold of his and latching on, feeling the instant connection; a lifetime of emotion swirled around us both, and I knew he felt it, too; I saw the look in his eye. But in his heart, he was broken. His soul was broken; I could feel that—could feel the darkness coming to get him. If I died, if I faded away, he would come with me—but I realised, as I looked deeper into everything he was, that if I went back, he’d go into the night alone.

“Jason?”

“Ara?” he said. “Just come back to us.”

“No. I see now,” I said, looking at David. “I can never tell him.”

“Ara, you don't need to—”

“What’s she saying?” David cut in.

“Ara?” Jason reached out, as if he could grab me. “Please.”

“No,” I said softly, touching David's face; he closed his eyes, feeling me there. “Tell him I love him. Tell him I always will, but I just…I can't be in this life anymore, Jase. Too much has been broken.”

“Ara.” He stepped closer. “Damn it. Please?”

I looked over at the open, waving hands of the curtains across my balcony door, greeting me like arms of the soul-taker, and felt peace, somewhere out there, away from the sudden panic of everyone in the room.

“Uncle Arthur?” Jase said, his quivering voice panicked. “She’s fading. Do something.”

I stepped away from Arthur. “Tell David goodbye for me.”

“Ara, no!” Jase reached out, but time froze around us, leaving me free to follow the desires in my heart. I kissed my David on the head and stood by the ghostly arms of the soul-taker, looking back once more as time sped up again and darkness took them all away.

“It’s not the first time she’s done it,” Jason said quietly.

“I don't know that she’s even aware she can,” Arthur added.

“She’s not. And it stays that way,” Mike said.

“Talent like that could be dangerous if she’s left in the dark about it. I'm telling her,” David said, and my eyes flew open.

“David?”

“Ara?” He rose up from a chair beside my bed.

“David? What are you doing here?” I tried to sit up, but he pinned me down by my chest.

“I found you.”

“Found me? I was lost?”

He looked off to the side of the room.

“You had an accident,” Arthur said, appearing in my peripheral.

I rubbed my head. “What kind of accident?”

“You don't remember?” Jason popped up on the other side of my bed and took my hand.

“Um.” I looked at David then at Jason, trying to find any memory, but everything was just white—even what I had for breakfast. “No. Did I get hurt?”

“Yes.” Arthur stood at the foot of my bed. “We suspect you fell from the lighthouse.”

“What?” I sat up. “What was I doing on the lighthouse?”

“We don't know.” Jason rearranged the pillows behind me, smoothing my hair down after. “We all thought you were safe in bed, until David came in screaming.”

Hot, silent air stopped my words like a golf ball in my mouth. “I don't remember going out there.”

“Perhaps—” Arthur looked down at me, “—it was a case of noctambulism.”

“Huh?”

“Sleepwalking.” David smiled.

I laughed a little. “Oh. Well, it wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Yeah, well, because of your little brush with death, the whole kingdom knows David’s alive,” Mike said from across the room.

“What?”

David looked at me, shaking his head. “I brought you back to the manor and came straight through the Great Hall.”

“Yeah—” Jason reached over me and punched David softly. “You should’ve seen the look on their faces when I walked up to see what all the yelling was about.”

David rubbed his brow. “I just wasn't thinking.”

“It’s in the past, son.” Arthur touched his shoulder then looked at me. “Everything has been smoothed over.”

“What did you tell the people—about where you’ve been?”

“The truth. We told them we were trying to conceive a child that could kill Drake—that we’d gone to great lengths to keep my existence a secret.”

“Were they okay with that?”

David's face warmed with his smile. “They're rejoicing.”