Shadows of Darkness

1. Monsters

Monsters should be gory, but here in Colt, they were beautiful.

Wearing his beloved brother's skin, Everett Watts was comfortably shielded. The musk of old woods swirled in his gold hair. The amber air warmed his dense muscles and impeccable bones. The fire below the portrait of his great-grandparents flickered in his blue eyes. His groan was deep and composed now, not rough and meaningless. Even his brain hosted many secrets once unfamiliar to him. Everett was in the body he always dreamed of having, and the Watts Clan couldn't recognize him.

Holding back, he relaxed his fists and let another slap turn his jaw. When his father was done with the third strike, Everett drew his lips between his teeth, sucking in humiliation-flavored blood. The weightless intimidation disgusted him, for he should—in fact, could—finish these monsters in one satisfying mess. Hissing around Bill Watts were the Watts seniors, the hubristic old men who looked magically under forty, the fathers of the Watts boys, the majestic ironies. Everett's new fists threatened to thrust out the blue bolts, but he had to look at a big picture, the one larger and momentous than the portrait above him.

You didn't stick to the plan. Everett thought of Cyan's protest. But he was sticking to it as he bowed and endured the wrong sentence.

"How disappointing!" Cowen snarled and clutched his hips. He limped about the ancient library, his eyes firm on Everett's mask. "With all of our powers, how could you lose them?"

As Will and Simon enhanced David's power, the Watts seniors did Hector's. The accumulated vigor to hunt Prime Brunch boys nearly killed David. Its intensity still lingered, and yet Everett couldn't end it all before the energy faded and the seniors recovered.

Stick to the plan.

"And good job killing your father's most beloved son, by the way." Cowen pursed his lips.

Most beloved son. Everett scoffed quietly. The Watts Clan misunderstood that particular nomination. The concept was already conflicting. The Watts seniors threw their most beloved sons beside some innocent creatures in the ritual sacrifices. Had the legacy been exact, this room was full of unloved savageries.

Bill Watts reposed on the club chair in front of the fireplace. "Enough, Cowen," he commanded. His voice echoed through the old volumes on the walls. The Watts seniors immaculately stared at their feet. "I want my huldreke and strays."

Cowen inched toward the fire. "Of course." He cleared his throat. "Everett is dead. You will need time to get some clarity. I can lead the next ritual." He glanced at Austin, his firstborn and another Watts boy in the lounge, their gazes slipping against some unease. No sons completely trusted their fathers here, for tragically, the Watts men were eager to kill the boys they loved.

Bill Watts snorted. "I always have my clarity, Cousin. Cyan is a special huldreke. She's irreplaceable and belongs to Prime Branch." He crossed his legs and rested his back against the brown leather. "Oh, I'll kill one of my sons next month, but we need another huldreke on the altar."

"What do you mean?" Jason, a seventy-year-old senior who looked even younger than Bill Watts, lifted his face.

Bill Watts turned to Everett, his gaze catching on the brilliant vessel before him. "You're right, Hector," he said.

Everett choked, unaware of what he should be absolute about. He looked into Hector's memories, but all he could see was black grass. But with years of admiration, Everett impersonated Black Stallion adequately. Hector's firm nod was more meaningful than well-crafted speeches.

"She can't die." Bill Watts rose and glided to a broken windowpane that he had shattered with Everett's new body a moment ago. The fallen shards crunched under his shoes, buried into the brown carpet. "There's only one thing we can do for now." He veered to the possessed prince, inspecting the bruises and the cuts he had just made. "This is yours now." A gloomy ring glinted between his fingers.

Suddenly, silence emphasized the cracking of the furious fireplace. The Watts seniors lost their breaths upon the glare of that ring. It was the ring, Mary once had it, which Bill Watts intended to give to Angelica, who crushed his pride with her red electric whips. Dull diamonds sulked around the tungsten band, and the sizable musgravite budded from the sleek gray claws. This ugly curse had been in the Watts family since Colt and Rosalind's era. Of course, the band's eccentric engraving was the most peculiar thing about it. Mary once gave Everett her interpretation of those runic alphabets—to come back from death for love, but the popular translation among the Watts Clan was, truthfully, more accurate. They believed it said, Love you to death. Everett suddenly glimpsed the jewelry's significance from Hector's memory. The ring was passed down to Prime Branch, meant to belong to the Watts Clan queen. Everett concurred with his own definition of the formidable heirloom: betrayal. If he cherished it, he would have to kill his most beloved son.

I'm not going to do that! Hector's memory screamed and provoked a jolt of revulsion in Everett's stomach.

"Cousin..." Cowen whined.

"Silent!" Bill Watts shrieked. His eyes fixed on the ramification of his violence, the best of blue eyes, the shiniest of gold hair, the sharpest jaw—the best Watts boy. "Draugr Ring isn't the crown." He circled Everett, his cold essence embracing the room. "It doesn't give you authority." He sneered earnestly. "You're just entitled to be the future of this bloodline. You and Cyan. That's your destiny." He made another step, his breaths gushing over Everett's face. "I'm still the eminence of this clan. If you disappoint me again, the ring will go to someone else."

Everett clenched the ring in his fist. He loved Cyan, and he wanted to marry her. The opportunity aroused and repulsed him, for the reunion couldn't be under this horrible circumstance. Not as Hector. Not for blood. Not with the Watts Clan around. He had to restrain his desire until the day Cyan knew that it was all just Everett inside Hector's body.

"You're ready to be a man," Bill Watts said. "And strengthen our lineage. You and Cyan will give me strong grandsons, and perhaps beautiful granddaughters." His scoff was definite and inhumane. "Huldrekes."

"In that case, Austin is more eligible," Cowen interjected.

Warm derision snugged Everett's throat, and he thought the world of how his husky snicker bothered the Watts seniors.

"Austin has been training harder than any boy of this generation." Cowen sized up Hector. "And unlike you, Hector, he understands the legacy. He deserves that huldreke."

"Sorry to interrupt." Austin frowned. "What makes you think she's going to accept the proposal exactly? We're not exactly hospitable last time." He scratched his swollen purplish cheek with his knuckles.

"It's none of your concern, boy," Bill Watts said but wasted no glance on Austin. "Cyan is Hector's, and that's it." He turned an eye on Cowen. "Don't even open your mouth. I know what you're thinking, but no. Though Hector has only trained for three months, he's better than any of your sons." This was for all the seniors, and they winced. "And some of you." They sighed. "Cyan has always belonged to this house." Bill Watts's hands shivered around the sketchbook, the one that had been under Everett's bed. "And when the time comes, her power will be ours." He tossed the collection into the fire and strutted to Everett. "You won't let Everett die in vain." He handed out a piece of paper. The elder futharks were analyzed and surrounded by some jagged lines and symbols. The only readable letters arranged as Rebecca Allen. Then Bill Watts swiveled to face the Watts seniors. "Tell your boys to go fetch mine."

"Which one?" Jason asked.

"All of them."