Darker Days

Chapter Twenty-three

By the time we got to Paulson’s, Lukas was excited about the idea of seeing Simon again. A little weirded out at first, he was worried Paulson would be summoning an actual corpse and not a spirit. Rotting flesh and smelly bone. The guy had a lot to learn.

On the way over we’d stopped by Zeets, the small family-owned candy store on the edge of The Pit, and bought a box of white chocolate-covered pecans. His Scooby Snack. Paulson would do just about anything for them, and I had a feeling he’d need buttering up.

Especially after what happened last time he did me a solid.

He opened the door wearing a huge grin. Strong arms wrapped around me, and I caught the scent of sandalwood and pine. “It’s been too long, Jessie girl.”

I returned the hug and pulled away. “Same.” Pulling Lukas closer, I said, “Paulson, this is my friend Lukas. He’s kinda why we stopped by.”

Paulson nodded in acknowledgment and eyed the box in my hands. “Are those what I think they are?”

I held out the chocolates. “Made this morning.”

He waved us inside and gestured to the sofa. Flipping open the lid, he popped one of the small candies into his mouth and sighed. If he didn’t finish them before we left, I’d be surprised. “Klaire don’t know you’re here, does she?”

“You automatically assume I’m doing something I shouldn’t be.” I pouted.

He said nothing but held up the chocolate and gave the box a slight shake.

“Okay, so I am, but still. Benefit of the doubt, please?”

“Let’s get something straight right off the bat—no promises. I got in a heap of trouble last time. Your mama didn’t speak to me for months.”

I nodded and held my right hand up. “It’s simple this time, I swear. I just need to talk to a relative of mine.”

“I assume you mean on your mama’s side,” he said dryly. Paulson was mom’s oldest friend. They’d known each other since grade school. He was the only of Mom’s friends who knew about Dad and my semi-human status. He’d never approved of Mom’s choice in men, but he’d stood by her regardless, sitting on the couch for hours as she cried herself to sleep in those first days after Dad made the decision to stop coming around. They didn’t know I knew—and I had no intention of telling them—but Paulson was as loyal as they came.

“Of course.”

“Do I get to ask why?”

“Will telling you it’s a long story get me off the hook?”

“I know you, Jessie. Saying you want me to summon a relative is specifically vague. Which one?”

“One that has a shared history with Lukas’ family. There’s an item—I need to ask him about it.”

“That sounds innocent enough.”

“Yep.”

Paulson narrowed his eyes and popped another chocolate into his mouth. “Which is exactly why it’s not. Fess up, Jessie girl. What’s the deal?”

I groaned. “Seriously. That’s all, I swear.”

“Then why don’t Klaire know you’re here?”

“She kinda asked me to stay out of this one.”

He set the chocolate down and jabbed a finger in my direction. Yep. The box was more than half empty already. I should have brought two. “And heaven forbid she knows what’s best?”

“Of course not. She’s just being over-protective. Like usual. I swear—it’s just a simple Q and A.”

“There’s no simple with you, kid.”

“Please,” I prodded, sticking out my bottom lip just a hair. The pretty please pout. Paulson had been a sucker for it since I was five.

For a second I was worried. I knew a few other necromancers, but none of them were what you could consider trustworthy. Paulson dragged it out a few more minutes, but when he rolled his eyes and folded his arms, I knew I had him.

Yeah. I was that good.

“Fine,” he said. “But I’m not leaving the room this time.”

I nodded, feeling a little bad. Mom was going to kill him for this. Last time I’d come to him for some secret help, fifteen people had been hurt, and I’d ended up with a broken arm.

Mom would find out this time, too. If I was right, Simon would have some important information to share. I’d just have to double up on the chocolate covered pecans next time and up the charm.

Paulson went to work gathering his supplies. Silky bags, small wooden boxes, and vials of oddly colored liquids. “You remember that movie you, me, and your mama went to see?”

I laughed. “Oh my God… What was it called? The Bone Whisperer, right?”

Paulson snorted. “All it takes is a sprinkle of some special dust, the right words, and a few old bones and you, too, can summon a spirit from the great beyond. What a load—”

“Mom wanted to kill you for talking through the entire thing. The rest of the people in the theater, too. I thought they were going to jump us in the parking lot.”

Paulson pulled aside an old area rug and drew a chalk circle in the middle of the room. “I was simply stating how fake the whole thing was. You’d think Hollywood would at least put a little research into it…”

I watched as he sprinkled some kind of bluish powder around the outside of the circle. He was setting up here? “Don’t you need to do a summoning at the person’s grave site?”

He chuckled and capped the blue powder, setting it aside. Next, he picked up a small, oddly shaped jar and poured clear liquid into the center. It hit the air and filled the room with the smell of bleach. “So cliché. Nope. As long as you have a purified area, you can summon anywhere.”

“Purified?” Lukas asked, examining one of the jars. He twisted off the cap and took a whiff, wrinkling his nose.

Paulson reached for the small white pouch beside him and dumped it upside down. Several yellowing bone fragments fell out, bouncing across the scuffed wooden floor. “Spirits leave a sort of residue in the air. It gets in the way of summoning.”

I reached across the couch and stole one of the chocolates. “How can a necromancer’s house be purified? Aren’t you always complaining spirits pop in constantly? Wouldn’t there be residue all over the place?”

Aside from being able to summon a specific spirit, necromancers were a natural draw to wandering ones. Like a hopped-up metal rod in a lightning storm, Paulson once said necros put out a sort of energy that drew spirits in.

He glared at me. “All that disgusting residue floating around? I purify at least once a day. Sometimes twice, depending on traffic.”

I shot him a look of mock surprise. “You never struck me as a neat freak kinda guy.” Well, half of it was mock. I’d never heard him talk that way about the spirits before. He always said he loved them. Said they were a part of who he was. They got annoying sometimes, but without them, he always swore he’d be lonely. He once told Mom that several had been with him since childhood. They popped in and out sporadically, but were never far away.

Turning back to the circle, he asked, “Ready?”

“Don’t you, like, need something that belonged to him?” Not that I had anything belonging to Simon Darker, but still.

Paulson rolled his eyes. “Another cliché. I just need his full name…”

“Simon Darker.”

He nodded and waved me over. “Just need a drop of your blood. Since this Simon guy is a relative of yours…” Paulson reached into his pocket and pulled out a small Looney Tunes lighter. Positioning the blade over the top, he flicked the flint to sterilize the steel.

I held out my hand and tried not to cringe as he nicked the tip of my finger with his blade. There was a slight pressure as he squeezed the tip. Several drops of crimson trickled from my finger and fell over the bones he’d placed in the center.

He then uncorked a small glass vial and poured its thick red liquid out into a smaller circle—just inside the chalk line and around the bones. A closer look and I realized it was blood. After the circle was finished, he set the vial aside and sprinkled a fine black powder over the bones. It fizzled and sparked as it fluttered to the floor.

I’d never seen this done so I really had no clue. I would never understand necromancy. And considering the ingredients—I didn’t want to.

“IO evocare thee, alto padrone del Indistinto Regno. Apparire prima me.”

I didn’t understand a word he said. “That’s not Latin.”

He snorted. “Of course not. It’s Italian. Latin is more popular in demonic summoning.”

“Oh,” was all I could say. I’d never heard that before, but again, I knew nothing about this kind of stuff. He could’ve told me we had to dress in panda costumes and chant Michael Jackson songs around a fire at midnight, and I’d have to take him on his word.

“Remember, he won’t be able to stay long. You’ll have to ask your questions fast before he dissipates.” Paulson dropped to his knees. Eyes closed, he repeated himself. “IO evocare thee, alto padrone del Indistinto Regno. Apparire prima me.”

For a moment, nothing happened. The room fell silent and Lukas stiffened beside me. Paulson’s shoulders tensed as he braced both hands flat against the floor.

The air chilled. Though there were no windows or doors open that I could see, a strong gust of wind whipped through the room and sent my hair fluttering into my face. A second later, Paulson’s deep voice broke the silence. “Venire in avanti cosØ noi Maggio crogiolarsi al sole in tuo gloria.”

A blue spark flared to life in the center of the circle, then a crack like lightning filled the air. The bones shimmied and twitched, and the ground beneath our feet trembled. Across the room, a vase wobbled off the edge of the mantle and crashed to the floor, sending bits of glass scattering in all directions. Above our heads, the chandelier rattled and quaked. One bead came loose and fell to the floor. It bounced several times before clanking into the corner, falling still.

The smoldering remains of the bone and dust grew into a deep blue mist that stretched from floor to ceiling. As I watched, the smoke swirled and began to take shape. The shape of a man.

“Simon?” I choked. The man in the smoke had a small button nose like Mom, and the same deep, crystal-blue eyes. He was broad shouldered with a thick graying moustache and chubby cheeks and reminded me of a picture I’d seen of my grandfather. I stepped forward, but Paulson grabbed my arm.

“You can’t touch him, Jessie girl. Just trust me on this one. You don’t even wanna try.”

Of course, it was in my nature to ask why, but I let it go. Turning to the shadowy figure, I smiled. Now that he was there, I didn’t know what to say. Introduce myself? Politely inquire how the afterlife was treating him? Launch right into it?

He watched me, silent for a moment, before smiling. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Jessie.”

“You know who I am?”

He rolled his eyes. Yep. Exactly like Mom. “Do you really believe I’d shuffle off the mortal coil and leave my line without protection?”

He turned to Lukas, and his smile widened. “Lukas. My old friend. I assume my summons to this place has to do with you. The box has been opened again?”

Lukas smiled. “It’s good to see you, Simon.”

Paulson cleared his throat, then looked away.

I could take a hint. “Simon, we don’t have a lot of time. I need to ask you about the box—and the Wells family.”

“The box? It’s in the church of course.”

I shook my head. “It’s not. It’s been stolen. We already looked.”

Simon chuckled. “Silly child. Of course it wouldn’t be easy to see. I cursed it. When the Sins are released, the box automatically returns to its resting place.”

“You cursed it?” Lukas asked. “Were you a witch?”

Simon laughed. “Of course not. But you don’t do what I did without picking up a trick or two along the way.” Simon’s ghost winked. “I had some pretty powerful friends.”

“Isn’t that risky? The box going back to the church, I mean. What if the Sins get ahold of it?” As much as I wanted to give them time to chat, we didn’t have that luxury.

“The only way the Sins can touch the box is if it’s handed to them by a human. They can’t take it from the sanctuary themselves. It’s part of the curse.”

“We looked everywhere,” Lukas insisted. I wanted to laugh. I’d looked everywhere. He’d just kind of followed along telling me what a waste of time it was.

“There’s a chamber beneath the church. The box rests there.”

Hidden compartment. I knew it!

A flash of light burst from the ground beneath Simon’s feet.

“Time is short, Jessie girl,” Paulson whispered.

Crap. We needed to hurry. “The Wells family. What do you know about them?”

His face instantly darkened. “There is no Wells family. Only that murdering whore, Meredith.”

“You knew it was her?”

“Not at first.” He turned to Lukas. “I’m sorry about what happened, son. By the time I discovered the truth, it was too late. And unfortunately there’s no way to free yourself. She killed off her entire line, and when I tracked her down, I trapped her.”

“You trapped her? How did you trap her?”

“I had a witch friend who owed me a favor. Lorna Belfair. Together, we trapped Meredith Wells for all eternity. She was put into a deep, magic-based sleep and we buried her in hallowed ground.”

Belfair? Huh. That would explain why Cassidy lied to Mom. Her line had history with Meredith. If she thought the other witch was still trapped, of course she’d never tell us where to find her.

“Buried? As in, you buried her alive?” My stomach convulsed. Just the thought made my blood run cold. Sure, she was a murderous, unhinged bitch, but no one deserved that.

“She wasn’t awake. She didn’t feel a thing.”

“Well, she’s awake now. And let me tell you, she’s pretty damn pissed.” And if it was Simon that trapped her, boyfriend envy wasn’t the only thing she had against me. No wonder she seemed to hate the Darkers.

I didn’t think it was possible for a ghost to pale, but Simon proved me wrong. “You and your mother are in grave danger. She will stop at nothing to get her revenge. She—” At his feet, another spark of white. “How did it happen?”

I rolled my eyes. “Sorry—no clue. I haven’t gotten the chance to chat with her about it over a latte.”

Paulson sighed. Expression sad, he said, “I can’t keep you here any longer, Mr. Darker. Your time is up.”

Another flash. Simon flickered. “You can help Lukas, but you can’t—alone—need help. Talk to V—”

And with a final, brilliant flash, he was gone.

…

“We need to talk.”

Every time someone said that lately, my skin started to crawl. Kind of like when someone yelled fire. You just knew the shit was about to hit the fan.

Lukas had been too quiet on the way back from Paulson’s. I’d suggested taking the bus, but he wanted to walk. Really see the town. We’d gotten back to the office to find it empty—Mom and Dad were still out searching for Sins, I guessed.

He settled on the couch without bothering to flip the lights on, waiting for me to sit across from him. “It’s over, Jessie. We tried, but—”

I laughed him off. “Haven’t you been paying attention? I’m stubborn. It’s not over ’til it’s over.” It was one of Mom’s favorite sayings—and I’d always hated it. Yet at that moment, it was all I could think of, and really, it was perfect. A true blue mantra for the stubborn.

His expression didn’t change. “It’s over,” he repeated. “I’ve been in the box for 147 years. You don’t know what it’s like—but I do. I won’t condemn someone else to that.”

“I told you, we’ll find another way. Simon said there was someone out there who could help.”

He shook his head and stood. Stepping forward, he settled on the cushion next to me. “There is no other way. My only salvation would be to damn someone else. If I do that, then I truly am evil.”

“There are plenty of bad people out there. You don’t know what it’s like—but I do,” I repeated his words with a bit of bite. “Monsters that prey on little girls. Men who butcher their wives. Women who kill their own kids—take your pick. They’re evil. Not you.”

Again, he shook his head.

“I don’t understand. Last night you said—I thought we—” I couldn’t finish. Everything I’d said to Mom that morning was forgotten. Now, all I wanted was to find a way to keep him here. With me.

This was why I had rules. Unbreakable and set for my own sanity rules. I’d crossed the line—big time—and now, I’d have to pay the price. Lukas Scott had pulled me down hard. Was this how Mom felt when she had to say goodbye to Dad? Like the air was too thin, and the ground was going to split open and gobble her up?

“I want to stay. I never imagined meeting anyone like you, and now that I have, do you really think I want to leave?” He tilted my head up, and I fought a shiver. His fingers skimmed along the lines of my jaw, thumb tracing the outline of my bottom lip. It was like heaven. And hell. Things I’d never imagined—feelings I didn’t know could exist—all surged through me. Feelings like this could save a person.

Or ruin them.

“Lukas…”

He shook his head. “Meredith did me a favor. I would have never been happy in my time. I wasn’t meant to be there. When I was trapped the first time, I had nothing to hold on to but rage and thoughts of revenge. This time will be different. Easier. I’ll have your memory to keep me grounded. You’ll be my serenity.”

I opened my mouth to tell him I agreed, that he was meant to be here. Now. With me. But he kept talking.

“But I’m not a killer—please don’t ask me to be. A good man wouldn’t sacrifice others to get what he wanted.” His expression darkened. “No matter how badly he wanted it.”

He sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than me.

I remembered what he’d said in the woods by the train tracks. “Maybe it’s my penance. Eternity in the box. I made mistakes—we all do—and maybe this is my punishment. My destiny. To hold Wrath in my heart so no one else has to.”

“Meredith said something at school today. About how she was only able to do what she did because you were viable. What happened, Lukas? What did you do?”

He let go of my chin and pulled away. I wanted to drag his hand back, but I resisted, instead focusing on the sound of his voice.

“She’s right. I was very angry.”

“What were you angry about?”

There was a spark of red in his eyes. A flash. There and gone in an instant. “My father was not the noble gentleman the public knew and loved. He was a monster. Violent and cruel.”

“You hated him.”

Lukas laughed. “I didn’t only hate him, I wanted him dead.” He sighed. “He ruled our home with an iron fist. Treated my mother like a servant rather than a wife.”

I remembered his reaction when he found me in the woods. The spark of rage in his eyes as he told Garrett not to hurt me. He’s a monster! He’d been taking out his anger over his dad on Garrett.

“He hit her,” I whispered.

“I’d had enough of his treatment. Of her—and of me. The night after I found Meredith with the farmer’s son, I confronted my father. I was erratic. Confused. I removed my mother from the house and promised to return to finish him off. I meant it. I would have but—”

“But Meredith got in the way.”

He nodded. “Only hours after I secured my mother at the home of her sister, Meredith found me. Knowing what I know now, I understand it all. You see, it was she who pushed me—the day prior—to take action against my father. I suppose she set me up from the start.”

“I’m sorry,” I said softly. I couldn’t imagine growing up in a place like that. How scared he must have been as a child.

“I deserved what I got,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Had he been alive when I was released in 1910, I would have killed him without a second thought. Even after all those years, I wanted him dead. It was the first thing I thought of when my feet hit solid ground. First him, then Meredith.”

I took his hand. “That doesn’t make you evil. It makes you human.”

“I was a monster. Just like him.”

There was no point in arguing with him because he believed without a doubt that he belonged in that box. Nothing I could say would absolve him of that.

“Then we do belong together,” I whispered, leaning closer. “Because I’m part monster, too.”

I’d heard it a million times. Whether we like it or not, we all become our parents. Mostly, that had never bothered me. My mom was beautiful and smart. She could kick ass like no one else I’d ever known. She was brave and witty and good-hearted. Did I want to grow up to be just like her? Sure I did. Except for one tiny little thing. I wanted to learn from her mistake. Mistake. Just one. A single decision that had resulted in a lifetime of pain and longing.

All or nothing—I guessed it was true. Other than my sometimes questionable methods and slightly screwed morals—which I was convinced came from Dad’s side—I’d become my mother.

In every way.

“I want you to stay,” I whispered. Something warm trailed down the side of my cheek. A tear.

We’d only met days ago, but somehow it felt like I’d known him so much longer than that. He’d seen me at my strongest—and my weakest—and wasn’t bothered by it. He was the first person aside from Mom that it felt okay to be normal Jessie around. Normal Jessie who was one hell of a monster masher—as well as a teenage girl.

He leaned in again, forehead resting up against mine. “My whole life, I was waiting. I didn’t know what for, only that I hadn’t found it. Then I find you—a hundred years later and waiting for me.”

He let go of a bitter laugh and I sighed. “Shame I wasn’t born a little earlier, huh?”

His hands slid over my cheeks and tangled into my hair. “Or I a bit later.”

Our lips met, and for a few blissful minutes, the painful goodbye looming overhead disappeared.