Darkness Fair (The Dark Cycle Book 2) by Marks Rachel A

Author:Marks, Rachel A. [Marks, Rachel A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781503950290
Published: 2016-02-01T18:30:00+00:00

TWENTY-SIX

Aidan

We all walk through the club, Connor holding Rebecca’s hand so she doesn’t get caught up by the crowd. I trail behind them, watching how he moves beside her, like he’s parting the waters. I wonder if she’s noticed that he’s being chivalrous for her, or if she thinks that’s just how he is. I got a whiff of his attraction to her as we were leaving the house earlier tonight, and now I see it might be more than that. Looks like it won’t just be her heart getting broken because of this mess.

I come up beside Connor and lean in so he can hear. “I’ll meet you guys at the car. Gonna go tell Hanna that I got what I needed.”

He nods and disappears down the hall with Rebecca as I head up the office stairs. A bouncer stands on the landing in front of the door. Frank, I think.

He holds up a hand. “She’s with an employee.”

“I need to give her something and get home. Can I slip in for just a sec, Frank?” He looks me over, then seems to recognize me. He moves aside, giving me a nod.

“Thanks.”

I open the door and step inside, staring into the dark room as I shut the door behind me. I try to blink back the shadows a little as something odd slinks over me, uneasiness stirring in my gut. The room looks empty.

But several out-of-place smells begin to hit me—brine and the sea, the crisp spring breeze of new green life. And then I realize it’s all masking a deeper scent. Something sinister and putrid just under the surface.

Death.

“Hanna?” I say, my voice hoarse from surfacing fear.

A low growl emerges from my right, behind the couch. A growl that turns into a sinister chuckle as a form emerges from the shadows. “A young, fleshy boy,” the thing—whatever it is—says. But the words come out made of crunching glass and clacking stones. “So yummy and young and spry. I know you, fleshy boy. I smell your oils and sweats.”

I stand frozen as I watch the six-foot hunched thing slink forward to perch on the back of the purple couch. It’s looking in the wrong spot because it can’t see me while I’m wearing the amulet, but apparently it’s still extremely aware of my presence. Bony knees point at the ceiling and two sets of claws, on feet and hands, dig into the soft fabric with a pop that releases puffs of white cotton stuffing from the couch. Its oily skin is the color of pitch, with shimmery black feathers covering its shoulders and upper thighs to the waist. Its odd-shaped mouth is like a purple beak, but when it speaks, the beak is clearly soft and pliable. Two holes sit just under its bulging, sideways blinking eyes.

And then I realize: its purple beak is splotched with a shiny liquid.

The creature reaches back to pick something up from behind the couch and then holds out whatever it retrieved with a three-pronged claw as if inspecting a find.

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