Taking Light {Sequel: "For Love of Evil"}

-23-

Roman sat behind the wheel of his G Wagon, peering up through the windshield into the night's sky. Dark clouds were rolling in, making the moon unseen.

The passenger door came ajar, Peter slamming the door shut as he got into the cab. Roman turned the key in the ignition, starting the car.

"I got a phone call." Peter leaned forward, waiting for Roman to justify his actions. He didn't seem to take the hint. Roman started to put the gear in reverse, only to have Peter reach across, snatching the key out of the ignition.

"What the fuck?" Roman seethed, looking at Peter lividly.

"You locked Lyra in a room, are you fucking kidding me? That's like... illegal or some shit."

"Give me the keys." Roman growled, holding out his hand for Peter to comply.

"You've gotta get her out of there. I'm serious, Roman... this is fucking nuts."

Roman didn't think about Lyra calling Peter—the thought hadn't even crossed his mind. He knew the revelation of placing her in a soundproof room would eventually come to light, but didn't think it would happen tonight.

"What was I supposed to do? With everything going on, she wanted to leave. I can't let her leave-"

"So you're just gonna hold her hostage until- what?"

"If I have to lock her up every full moon, then so be it."

"You're serious." Peter's eyes widened; Roman had lost it. "This is insane, Roman... she's a person. You should've just let her come with us."

"I'm only doing it to protect her."

"From what?" Peter's voice raised an octave, watching Roman shake his head in annoyance. He thought of all people his best friend would understand. "You're fucking crazy. And she is too if she doesn't leave you after this. She's gotta have, like... Stockholm syndrome or something."

"She's gonna die, Peter... and there's nothing I can do to stop it." Roman admitted. Peter tossed the keys into Roman's lap, leaning back in the seat.

"You're insane." Peter mumbled, fishing in his pocket for a pack of smokes.

"The dreams haven't been wrong yet... I doubt this one is any different." Roman said, putting the key in the ignition. He started the car, putting the gear in reverse, making his way onto the stretch of blacktop. It was easy to call Roman crazy—he had all the characteristic of a psychopath. But Peter knew he was right; all the dreams had meant something.

"What happens in the dream?" Peter asked; he didn't want to know, but knew he had to. Perhaps it was another clue to the puzzle. "How does she die?"

"In the woods, under a full moon... just like tonight. I don't know how it's gonna happen, I don't see what kills her. But I know it's gonna happen. That's why she's in there- I have to protect her. God knows she's too fucking stupid to save herself."

"Do you see it too... the vargulf?"

Roman shook his head, staring at the road ahead. "No... I see a snake."

-

They arrived at the site, finding themselves pacing in circles. Nothing seemed out of place; there wasn't a shift in the air, the feeling of impending doom that they knew all too well before something terrible was about to happen. It was calm—almost too calm.

"Well, we've been out here for two hours... I don't think anything's gonna happen." Peter shrugged, tucking the flashlight under his arm. He pulled out his cigarette pack, placing the filter between his lips, lighting up the end. Smoke billowed above his head, idly twisting the ring on his finger.

"You should turn... try to sense something."

Peter's face contorted disapprovingly. "You realize how unprepared we are, right? No weapons, no-"

"If you turn, you'll be a weapon. We're not unprepared." Roman snapped back.

"We have no idea what we're messing with. No idea what this guy is even capable of- we could be armatures compared to this guy. I mean, what if Lyra's right? What if he's ten steps ahead of us... what if he's expecting me to turn- knows we're here."

"You're being paranoid." Roman's eyes narrowed, placing a cigarette between his lips. He cupped his hand around the end, igniting the flame. He inhaled, letting the smoke roll out of his lungs.

"Oh, I'm being paranoid." Peter laughed mockingly. "You don't see me locking my girlfriend up in a soundproof room because I had a nightmare."

"That's because you don't have a girlfriend." Roman flashed a devilish grin, raising his eyebrows snidely.

"Fuck you." Peter mumbled, taking the flashlight in his hand again. Roman stood conflicted; perhaps this was insane—perhaps it was coincidental the deaths had occurred in the places they had, making an incomplete hexagram. "Whoa, wait a second... move your flashlight back."

"What?" Confused, Roman turned around, trying to see what Peter was pointing at.

"No, point your flashlight to the ground... I think I saw something."

"You saw what?" Roman did as Peter said, moving his flashlight along the earth's floor.

"I don't know, something shiny." Peter started toward the light, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever it was he saw. "There... right there." Peter knelt down, reaching for the object catching the light.

It was a necklace, a gold chain with a circular charm. Peter held it between his fingers, shining his flashlight onto the pendant. The initials "MLC" were engraved on the front. His eyes wavered to Roman, handing him the necklace before getting to his feet.

Roman examined the necklace, remembering the last time he saw it. He swallowed hard; his face fell at the epiphany as he stared at the initials etched on the charm. He handed it to Peter, his lips pressed firmly in a tight line.

"We're in the wrong spot." Roman switched off his flashlight, shaking his head in defeat. He wanted to scream; he wanted to put his fist through a tree. Lyra was right, Ares had been ten steps ahead.

"What? No- this is the spot, this is where he's gonna hit-"

"He's already hit here." Roman inhaled deeply, starting back toward the car. "Fucking unbelievable." He murmured.

Peter was on his heels, unable to understand what made Roman come to that conclusion. He grabbed his arm, turning Roman around. "What do you mean, he's already hit here?"

"That necklace... it's Mary's." Roman tossed the necklace to Peter. "The hexagram... it's complete. The son of a bitch killed her here."

"How do you know that?" Peter asked, examining the charm.

"MLC... Mary. Lynn. Cambion. I've seen her wear that necklace. He killed her here... the circle's complete."

"What does that mean? I-i-if it's compete, where's he gonna hit next?" Peter stammered; the bad feeling that neither of them felt was slowly arising. Peter grew worried for Lyra; perhaps this is what Ares had wanted—to have Lyra alone. His tactic had worked; he put fear in Roman, knowing that the two would find themselves out in the woods—Roman too afraid to bring Lyra along. "Lyra. We've gotta get Lyra."

"Lyra's fine. Nothing can get in or out of that-"

"Don't you get it?" Peter yelled. "He wants to separate us. He wants her alone! You fucking fell for it. If he can get in your mind and implant fear... I'm sure he can get in there and find a few fucking numbers."

Roman's eyes went wide—his usually cold expression grew scared. Without a word, the two rushed to the car.