Page 25 of In the Dark

The longer she had to think, the more appreciative she was for the companionship, although goddess knew she would never tell him that. Something about Morgan and the way he carried himself meant she couldn’t get into his head. Without the access, she was less inclined to act on any dark impulses.

Score one for the geeky professor. Whatever he was.

The pain in her stomach increased the closer they got to home. Karsia cried out and hunched forward, gripping her abdomen until her fingernails brought blood rushing to the surface.

“Are you all right?” Morgan turned to stare at her. The car weaved closer to the other lane.

“Don’t worry about me. Keep going.”

The mechanical voice of the navigation system told them to take the next exit and Morgan obliged, keeping his hands tight on the wheel to stop himself from touching her.

He didn’t try to pry any further.

Karsia glanced out the window and saw the march of houses growing larger and larger even through the gloom of night. Another old neighborhood built on the backs of those with nothing for the pleasures of those with too much. Her family had lived in the Lake Forest district for generations, with the oldest male of the line taking possession of the residence. As far as she knew, there had been a Cavaldi in Chicago since the city rose from nothing.

“Take a left here.”

She hated coming back. The closer she was to her family, the higher the possibility of her hurting one or all of them. It was the singular reason she’d left in the first place. Coming home, she exposed them, opened them up to risk.

“A right on Circle. Third house on the left,” she said quietly.

They arrived at Lake Forest, Illinois, after seven in the morning.

Morgan hadn’t complained once during the long trip. He took the situation in stride though he bit his tongue to keep from questioning her again. “This one?”

“Yes.” Karsia didn’t need to look up to know they’d arrived. The familiar twang of her family’s magic hung in the air, suspended forever by the sheer magnitude of their power.

She’d lived her whole life within the comforting walls of the three-story monstrosity, with the weight of history and magic keeping her safe. The massive stone façade appeared fog-gray. Snowbanks drifted delicately over the hibernating gardens. A solid steel fence with spiked tops ringed the property to dissuade trespassers. Stone gables and turrets more befitted a European fantasy than an old Midwestern neighborhood. Stained glass windows mixed with more modern touches among the dour stone. A fanciful widow’s walk ringed the roof.

If she cared to, Karsia could recall countless memories of her and her siblings careening around the property, howling like banshees. They played hide-and-seek, went on adventure walks, and managed as much mischief as they were able to under the watchful eyes of their parents, Varvara and Thorvald.

“Damn, woman. The things you haven’t told me could fill a book, I know, but this is a little outside my comfort zone.” Morgan whistled through his teeth. “I didn’t realize you used to live in a museum. Is someone going to kick us out for making too much noise? It is the middle of the night.”

He pulled to a stop near the front stoop of the long circle drive. The old oaks should have been hibernating for winter, their buds dormant and ready to burst come springtime. Instead, limbs had dropped and the trunks, strengthened by years of her mother’s magic, were shriveled.

The pain in her organs tripled.

What was left of Karsia’s heart dropped to her feet and she ripped the seatbelt from the holder. “Let me out here. Let me out!”

Her hands clawed at the door handle and she was out of the vehicle before Morgan could pull to a full stop, sprinting toward the front door.

“Mom!” she cried out. Using the flat of her palms, she pushed the door open. Power crackled as the wood splintered under her palms, and the old panels hung shakily on their hinges.

“Karsia, hold on a minute.”

Morgan struggled to catch up. She couldn’t wait for him. Footsteps echoed eerily along the empty corridors, the scents of beeswax and blood hanging overhead. Urged on by invisible hands, she flew up the stairs and down the hall until she burst into her mother’s bedroom.

What she saw there stopped her cold.

In the middle of the sitting area, surrounded by family, was a hospital bed. Machines hissed from both sides and white metal bars caged the mattress. An oxygen pump worked tirelessly. The steady beep of a heart monitor filled the room, along with the motorized mechanics of life support.

“Someone better tell me what’s going on, and fast.”

Thorvald Cavaldi looked up from the bedside, strain having aged him beyond his years. The skin beneath his pale blue eyes had swollen to double the normal size until his pupils were only remembered, shaded completely with exhaustion. A salt-and-pepper beard adorned the lower half of his long face and was in desperate need of a trim. The hair on his head had also grown to flow down past his shoulders. Though still a bear of a man with the same astounding presence, there was now a stoop to his frame.

“Karsia?”

By his side was Astix, eyes and cheeks wet. Karsia took her in, from the lines of tattoos on her shoulder and double nose piercings to the shared color of their reddish mahogany hair. She looked like a woman at the end of her rope.

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