Shadows of Darkness

4. Darkness

Most houses in Runeville were identical, individuating only by numbers and some decorations on the lawns. The walls were white, and the shingle roofs were blue. Each house had a little porch sufficient to fit a small patio set for two, which would be inconvenient for five men and a girl. House number 1157 had four bedrooms and two and a half baths. And like the other residences, it has a cute blue door. David wondered if the brats could tell the difference between cute and little.

A spacious living room had never been used for relaxing, filled with books, researches, and sketches. Typically, it was organized, but David ran out of time to deal with his mess when he had to take care of the Watts boys'. A dining room was on the opposite side, attached to an open kitchen. The bedrooms were all upstairs, and the brats would fight about them any minute now.

"Cute," Will said like spitting as his glance swallowed the floor in one sweep. His cute probably meant insufficient.

The living space extended to a study which became a studio. Brushes, flakes of paints, and dried jars covered the working table because David left in such a hurry. Sensing his return, the canvases stirred up and beamed at him through the furniture and walls. The paintings attracted the boys right away, even for David, who yearned for nothing else but the grazing of his brush on the firm fabric. The aroma of walnut oil called him back to his masterpieces. He picked one up and sniffed, and the boys eyed him vaguely. To them, David would always be a little odd.

"Is that..." Luke flew at an unfinished project on an easel.

The sensation remained raw to David, and that painting, like the other projects, drained him at the end. This one depicted Cyan curled in the delicate black swirls.

"Darkness," Aric said before the sinister illustration.

"What does it mean?" asked John.

Angelica lifted the other paintings from a collection near the window and leaned them on the wall. All of them were the same: Cyan tangled in some dark flurry.

"We didn't know what she is until these happened." Angelica pointed at the variations of Cyan serenely rest on the Wraith. "Before, you were just my granddaughter. I knew you're special, but I didn't expect this. Yes, we have problems." She glanced at Will, who looked no different than Bill Watts when he was unsettled. "But it's too soon."

Cyan exhaled, and it was like all of her exited from that little body. She eyed John the way that she was measuring if he still wanted her. And John was difficult to read when his face was smaller, duller, and far away.

Angelica carefully slid another frame out of the pile and placed it on top of the middle painting. This one was Cyan surrounded by soft white fluffs. "But this is our concern." She glanced at Aric and David. "David was tortured when he painted it. It nearly took his life."

"The agony was worse than anything we've ever seen," Aric added. "We think it's her death."

"What the hell!" Simon snarled. "You told us we're safe here."

"You are," Aric said. "But we don't know the future. I'll meet someone who can professionally glimpse in two weeks. But here's a thing, Darkness is the huldreke afterlife."

"So Cyan is not just Cyan; she is also a place," Angelica added.

"I..." Cyan lost her voice. She might be exhausted or too tired to fight. "I'm just Cyan." Her little protest faded in her own doubt.

"We call our underworld the Dark Meadow." Aric bowed earnestly, so it looked like a willful prostrate. "But here's the thing. That place and this realm are connected by a portal called Gate. Its existence ensures Darkness's returns." He beamed at Cyan. "But decades ago, people started to lose hope because of hunter problems." He eyed the Watts boys. "Some huldrekes didn't agree with our policy and left. They stole Gate. Imagine the kind of power you have to stand at the door and control who can get in or out. Well, let's just say, with those folks, we don't see eye to eye anymore."

"What he meant was Gate could be turned against Darkness," David clarified.

"Well, you can tell them Cyan is not Darkness, so they can go find someone else to kill." Simon pointed at the girl. "Look at her. She's just not. Stop calling her that."

"Darkness isn't terrible." Aric laughed slowly. "She's our mother. Well, one of them." He walked to Cyan, facing her and studying her. "And this mother gets to keep us when we die. The question is, why you don't know?"

"I'm not..." Cyan whimpered.

"I let you go to Colt because I thought you knew who you were." Angelica's voice shook. "I thought you went there to bring them hell. I thought you were playing innocent and influencing the Watts boys." She turned to David. "We realized too late that you never knew."

"Darkness usually reincarnates with history. You see, when Darkness dies, she goes back and mends with the underworld where her soul will be reborn."

"Rebuilt," Angelica corrected him.

"Of course." Aric nodded at Angelica. "The Dark Meadow gives us another Darkness, and she comes back usually with minni."

"You're talking parts of self in Norse spirituality." Luke scrunched up his face.

Aric sneered at Luke. "Bill Watts taught his sons something."

The truth was Bill Watts only taught them violence. Luke knew things because he had been hiding in the family library when he wasn't tossed around.

"And what the stupid hell is that?" Simon asked. He hid in the dean's office under blankets of girls.

"Memories," said Aric. "Timeless memories from herself and others." Aric turned to Cyan again. "So she always knows the truths. All truths. Why don't you?"

"Because she isn't what you think!" Will snapped, looking as though he just got out of a sauna. Will's escape was the Watts boys' poolroom, where he bathed in all kinds of whiskeys.

"Oh, we're a hundred percent sure she is." Aric raised one of his brows. "You see, Darkness doesn't just come to this realm for no reason. She's pleased in the Dark Meadow. When she walks this earth, it's always a business trip. Upon her return, she brings war, destruction, blood, and justice." He bobbed his head.

Cyan regressed. "I'm not what you..." She turned to David.

David ducked away from her teary eyes and went to the painting. "It's not you that I'm worried about," he said. "It's her." He traced his hand on the rough canvas, against the sharp strokes of a cute white fuzz.