Darkest Death

Prologue

Noah Blackwell,

Les protecteurs des ténèbres needs help. The Blackwells have always been good American associates. We need you to be one, now.

The Hybrid is creating chaos worldwide. Even among the protectors, his spies lures. I am aware that the Messenger has turned her back on us, and hence, we must rely on ourselves. I write to you – unauthorized – to ask your help.

We got word, that Liam has been spotted in Vermont this weekend, and I need someone to look into it.

My choice fell on you. You've had contact with the Messenger, and you have fought against the Hybrid before. You also have the Traitor captured in one of your family's estates.

Once you find something, write the response with the enclosed feather. This will ensure that I, and only I, will get the reply.

Do not share the contents of this letter with anyone – friends and family alike.

I wish you luck

Black Feather

Noah crumbled the letter in his hand. He knew the contents by heart, but even now, as he had just arrived Montpelier, he had no idea what to do. The protectors were a secret order, the Black Feather the most infamous member. According to rumors, the Black Feather knew everything that happened in the Dark world.

The feather, Black Feather had given him, fitted the mission perfectly. It was in his back pocket and seemed to weight more than a feather should. It was pitch-black. If it hadn't been drowned in magic, he would've been sure it was a raven's feather.

Noah took a deep breath, put the letter back into the pocket with the feather, and went into the city.

*****

The snow had started falling slowly, and Noah was relieved to enter the empty bar. From what he had gathered of new reports and people's general gossip, Liam had shown up in this bar. No one had been there when he'd left with bloody hands. Some had been found dead, others were just missing. The thought of what had happened to them made Noah's stomach turn.

The scene was empty now, with only some old police tape securing the area. Noah scoffed and went under it. The police wouldn't be there now. In fact, reaching out, all he found was a mouse, that had found the peanuts, someone had spilled under the bar during the fight. He let his powers glide out, as his uncle had taught him, sensing anyone there was to sense. After making sure he wouldn't be the victim of a surprise attack, he started scouting the scene. The place was crawling with stuff, the police never would care about, but Noah knew was tied to the Dark World.

As he searched through the empty bar, Noah loosened his shoulders, as he started to relax. He'd figured he wouldn't be able to feel Liam, but if he were to be face to face to Liam, he wouldn't have much hope of getting out of there anyway. It had only been for Mrs. Thelonien's sacrifice back in September, he and his friends had escaped the Smythe Mansion. Noah made a face. He hated thinking about that day. It was almost six months since. Six months since Penelope Smythe had broken his heart and left everything behind. Noah didn't blame her though. How could he? She had lost almost everyone important to her to the Dark World. Her parents, her best friend, and then her aunt. Had it been him, he probably would have done the same. Still, it hurt thinking about it. Every time he heard her name, every time he saw someone with hair as dark as coal, his heart panged and his breath caught slightly. The worst part was when Adler Holmes came back from visiting her, reminding Noah, that Ad, not him, was tied to Penelope in a way no one else was.

A slight movement in the edge of hos consciousness broke his thoughts, and he gladly accepted it. Someone had entered the area, he was watching. Carefully, he entered the subconscious of the person – for he knew it was a human the moment he felt the consciousness. Though there seemed to be someone with him, who he couldn't sense. At least whoever the person, whose mind he was looking through, was looking at another person, though as Noah couldn't control the stranger's actions, he couldn't get a closer look at the figure. Instead, he let his mind flicker through all the stranger's senses. Noah's uncle was a master in the conscious mind, but Noah had always been better with the unconscious. He was a spider on a ceiling, observing what the person did, but only few - often the well-trained - ever noticed him.