Darkness Arisen

Chapter One



Naked on a public beach at midnight under an eerily full moon was not where Alice Shaw wanted to be.

At all.

But she knew she had no other choice, not with the way the deep red glow of the night sky was streaking across the still waters of the Oregon coast.

The only sounds were the soft lapping of the ocean on the rocky sand, the distant roar of waves further out to sea…and the thudding of her heart, of course. The air was hot and thick, unusually humid for Oregon, even in the summer. Sweat ran in disordered streaks down her chest…nerves or humidity? She wanted to believe it was the weather. Her gut knew it was fear.

Fisting her hand tightly around the precious item she dared not drop, Alice untied the drawstring of her shorts and let them fall. They hit the sand with a whisper that made her jump, and she quickly scanned the beach again for any sign of humanity, or any other living creature.

She saw nothing. Heard nothing. She appeared to be alone, which she knew could be a lie. But it was the best she could hope for.

Quickly, she turned back to the water that was a glistening red, mixed with the unnatural blue-green of the moon. She swallowed hard, then yanked off her underwear and pulled her tank top over her head. They joined her shorts, flip-flops, and car keys on the sand, a tiny pile that had been her last defense against anything. Now, she had nothing. Nothing but the blood-red natural pearl clenched in her hand, one of three so precious that no creature on earth even knew she had it in her possession. Only her mother had known, because she'd given it to Alice, but her mother was long gone.

The pearl was a secret she had sworn to keep. A secret she was going to betray tonight.

She moved up next to the water, so her toes were right on the edge of where the damp sand met the dry beach, where hard met soft, where cold met hot. The warm breeze seemed to caress her like invisible fingers of sin, and she shivered, wishing for her clothes.

But the Mageaan would never accept her if she brought anything into the ocean with her. All she was allowed to bring was herself. Vulnerable. Defenseless. Pure.

Pure? She laughed softly. Purity was an area where she had failed completely, and if all went as planned, her fall from grace would become even greater.

But for Catherine, she would do it. Once she fulfilled her promise to Catherine, death would no longer be the threat that it currently was.

Alice raised her eyes to the sky, watching, waiting, and searching the vast night. The sky blazed crimson, becoming angrier by the minute, and yet she did not move. A glowing ring of red light drifted near the moon, and she sucked in her breath, her heart racing in anticipation. That was it. The sign that the moment was close. So close.

Her muscles tensed. Her blood rushed with searing heat through her veins as she watched the inexorable approach of the bleeding red cloud as it crept closer and closer to the turquoise moon. She began to count under her breath. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

The edge of the ring drifted over the rim of the moon, breaking the perimeter. The night flashed with a vicious violet energy as the moon seemed to ignite. A firestorm of luminescence thrust the entire earth and ocean into a bath of thundering violet flames.

Now! Alice leapt forward, launching herself into the air, her arms outstretched to her sides like a sacrificial virgin. She threw her head back, baring her throat, and pointed her toes behind her like a ballet dancer in mid leap, exposing her stomach, a position of ultimate surrender. She closed her eyes, relinquishing all defenses as she let herself fall into the water that was only inches deep.

The cold ocean was shockingly brutal as she hit the surface, but she didn't change her position. She didn't try to protect herself from the impact on the sandy bottom. She simply whispered the words she'd paid so dearly for, "May death become my freedom."

Then she plunged into the water…and didn't hit the bottom. She gasped in shock as she was sucked downward, the violent turbulence of the ocean spinning her away from the surface. Violet light burned through her closed eyelids, and her instincts screamed at her to fight, to swim for the surface. But she didn't move, willing herself to hold the same sacrificial position she'd held upon entry, even as she tumbled in all directions, the disorienting movement stripping her of any sense of which way led to the surface.

She knew it was a test. A test she had to pass. A test of courage. A test of fear. A rite of passage to see how much control she had over terror and her survival instinct. The water grew colder, the undertow more violent. Her lungs began to burn with the need to breathe, and real terror began to build inside her.

What if she were wrong to let herself be sucked down? What if surrendering to the sea was actually the opening that death was waiting for, instead of being the one chance she had? Panic began to beat at her, and her muscles burned with the need to strike for the surface, to fight to live. No! She screamed the orders at herself. Don't fight!

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing her body not to resist. But still the fear crept through her, growing in strength as memories surfaced of the last time she'd died. She vividly recalled the pain, the panic, and the terror that she wasn't going to make it back to life. Fear lashed through her, screaming at her to fight to save herself before she died again, for a final time. Her skin burned with the bruises still present from the demons who'd tortured her, damage that should have been healed when she came back to life, damage that showed exactly how close she still was to death, a grim reminder that she might have finally used up her "come-back-to-life" frequent die-er card.

If she died today, it might be the end. Her final death. The destruction of her last chance to save her sister.

Her chest constricted, and her body began to shake as terror plunged through her. No, she screamed. Don't give in! But even as she shouted the denial, her body tore free of its defenseless pose, thrashing violently toward the surface, fighting desperately for another chance at life, shredding her last chance to save the one person who mattered to her. Dammit!

Panic took over, and she succumbed to the terror, swimming frantically toward the luminescent glow of the blue-green moon invading the black ocean. Harder and harder she swam, her lungs screaming with the need to breathe, but she couldn't get any closer. It was too far.

Horrifying realization plunged through her. Dear God, it was true. The rumors were true. Because she'd failed the test, the ocean would kill her. No, not the ocean. She would be murdered by the Mageaan, the magical beings she'd been trying to reach when she'd leapt into the water. Elusive creatures who were her last hope. Bitter, angry beings who welcomed no one into their world, unless they were brave enough not to fight death.

She hadn't passed the test. So now, the sea would obey its mistresses and kill her.

No! She couldn't die. She had to get to Catherine. Catherine! Alice stretched her hand toward the moon as her mouth opened, compelled by her lungs to take a breath. Water poured into her mouth and filled her lungs—

Something grabbed her hair and yanked her downward, away from the surface, away from her last chance at life, away from Catherine's final hope for survival.

She knew she was dead.

Dammit. She absolutely did not have time to die again.

* * *

Calydon warrior Ian Fitzgerald swore as Alice's hair slipped out of his grasp. Her ponytail tore from his hand as she fought against him, trying to swim deeper into the ocean, as if she had no concept of which way led to the surface. "Alice!"

He lunged for her, diving into the water that should be only inches deep, yet was somehow a bottomless pool of blackness. The green-blue moon cast shadows deep into the water. He almost reached her...his fingers brushed her hair...and then she was swept out of his reach, tossed ruthlessly by the violent water. As she tumbled away from Ian, that all-too-familiar sense of despair and anguish arose within him. That same voice, that f*cking voice that had tormented his father and grandfather into lethal hell beat at him, taunting him. She is lost. You have lost her. Die, soldier. It is the only choice.

Ian swore as his brands burned in his forearms, his weapons straining to be released so he could plunge them into his chest and carve out his own heart. The despair was agonizing and fierce, an onslaught so sudden and visceral it knifed through him before he had a chance to stop it.

F*ck you, he snarled and spun around, focusing his gaze on Alice. He felt his soul shatter as the ocean dragged Alice down to its depths, dragging her out of his reach after he'd finally found her again. The curse rose within him, sucking him dangerously down into the pits of despair, but at the same time, Ian focused on the woman: the billowing of her auburn hair in the water, her arms as she fought helplessly, the curve of her spine as she twisted and turned. His woman. His soul mate was in trouble.

Six hundred years of instincts as a Calydon warrior roared to life within him. His need, his commandment, his duty to protect his mate broke the grip of the curse, and raw male determination exploded through him. She cannot die.

With a roar of outrage, Ian launched into action, keeping his entire focus on the woman tumbling toward her death. He allowed no thought other than that she needed him, that he was her only chance for survival. If he died, so would she. F*ck dying. He couldn't die, couldn't kill himself, until his woman was safe.

He slashed his way through the water, moving with a speed that was far beyond human capacity, far beyond what the ocean could stop. He called up six hundred years of training as an Order of the Blade warrior, six centuries of a brutal physical life that had honed his body into a mass of muscle coiled so tightly that it was a weapon unto itself.

He called upon all his preternatural strength and streaked through the water, straight down into the endless depths, focused solely on his woman. He saw her below him, a faint pale outline that wasn't struggling anymore. She was floating helplessly, capitulating to the death hunting her, her body limp except for her left hand, which was clenched in a tight fist, as if she was clutching her greatest treasure just before her final death. Renewed urgency roared through Ian as he swam harder, his body undulating fiercely as he plowed relentlessly toward her. Alice! Wake up!

But she didn't respond. She just continued to drift further away from him. Faster he swam, getting closer and closer… and then he saw a black chasm in the bottom of the ocean, a murky darkness flowing from it.

Jesus. The sight of it was like a jolt to his system. The appearance of the black shadows was exactly what had happened when she'd died before. Demons coming out to steal her soul from her body. "No!" he bellowed. "Back the f*ck off!"

He called forth his weapons from the brands on his forearms. With a loud crack and a burst of black light, the steel flanged maces appeared in his hands, their blades glistening even in the deep ocean. He hurled them instantly in a one-two strike that cut through the murky darkness. It parted with a screech of insult, torn apart by the demon magic that empowered Ian's weapons as he called his weapons back to him.

He lunged for Alice, knowing he had only a split second before the deathly essence regrouped and took her. Alice, he commanded, thrusting his order into her mind. Give me your hand. Now.

Her body jerked suddenly, and her eyes opened. She looked right at him, and her eyes widened in shock. The impact of meeting her gaze reverberated through him, stripping the breath from his lungs. Her eyes were still a radiant green that reached right into his core. She hadn't changed.

He had to save her. There was no other option.

Alice. Now. As he said the words, he thrust all the strength he could into their connection, trying to empower her to fight the current trying to take her, infusing his life force into her depleted body, past her mental shields that had fallen with her being so close to death. Don't block me, Alice. Not this time.

Her body jerked, and for a split second, she recoiled from him, fear flashing across her face.

Hellfire, woman! I'm not the one you need to fear. He couldn't keep the snarl out of his voice, the frustration of two months of searching for her, the raw desperation of his need to stop her from dying this time. After having her die in his arms three times, the fourth time was going to be a charm even if he had to be a complete bastard to make it happen. Give me your f*cking hand, now.

Alice blinked, and then she moved her right hand, her fingers stretching toward his, even as she kept her left hand clenched in a fist.

Triumph rushed through him. Yes! He gave a final thrust forward, and their fingers touched. The jolt that leapt through him was instantaneous, just like it had been the last time they'd connected. Victory rushed through him. He'd found her. Son of a bitch. He'd found her again. He grabbed her hand, locking his fingers around her wrist as she tightened her grip on him.

Ian? Her voice was tentative and faint. Unsure. Testing his name as if she wasn't sure it was right. As if she weren't certain he was real. But son of a bitch, hearing her voice in his head again was like a choir of angels singing a f*cking chorus of hallelujahs.

Yeah, it's me. He shifted his position and began to swim backwards, away from the chasm trying to suck her down. Beneath them, the black shadows swirled restlessly, not pursuing them. Of course they weren't going after her. They only got her if she died, and she wasn't going to die, was she? No chance of that. With her hand locked securely in his, Ian felt the grip of his curse begin to fade, defeated momentarily by the fact his woman was alive and with him. Did you miss me, sweetheart?

Miss you? Alice began to kick again, her lithe body moving fiercely against the undertow as she committed to going with him. I thought you were a dream.

What? She didn't sound overwhelmed with joy to discover he wasn't a figment of her imagination. What the hell was up with that? You thought you imagined me? A dream? He'd made the most incredible love to her and she thought he was only her imagination? I am definitely insulted that you don’t remember me. I gave you some of my best stuff—

A violent torrent of water rushed over them, thrusting them down toward the chasm. He swore as the force of the current swept them both up, his strength overwhelmed by the sheer fury of the ocean. He thrust more effort into his kicks, but the current still hauled them both down toward the pit.

There was a wail, a high-pitched scream as if the ocean itself was a scorned woman being murdered, and then a burst of cold water wrenched Alice from his grasp, catapulting her ruthlessly toward the chasm.

Anguish ricocheted through him as she slipped out of his reach again, and he saw the dark shadows of demons rise to take her. The curse rose with opportunistic speed, shoving its way through his shields with lethal determination. She is lost. You have failed. Die with her.

For a split second, the curse was too powerful, and Ian swore, gripping his head against the onslaught of doom and despair trying to take him, trying to force him to give up, to suck him into such hopelessness that the only option was to surrender to death and kill himself.

For months, he'd fought the despair, keeping his shields up as he'd searched for Alice. But he'd had to open himself completely to connect with her this time, which gave him no defenses against the terror of her death. It was too late to block their connection, and the curse was taking advantage, preying on his need for her. He knew instantly that his only chance was to open his connection with her even further, to plunge into the very thing that made him vulnerable, and to use his need to save her life as a fuel to keep himself alive.

Get out of my head, he ordered the curse, keeping his gaze focused on Alice, opening himself to her, trying to connect with something stronger than the curse that had killed every one of his male ancestors.

Alice needs me, he reminded himself, quickly spinning words and truths that would empower him against the curse. She would die without him. She. Will. Die.

Denial roared through him, as the primal instinct of a Calydon warrior to protect his woman exploded to life. Rage tore him from the grasp of the curse, and he spun toward the chasm, trying to right himself against the raging undertow. He stroked desperately against the water, but he was too far away from her, with nothing to leverage off of to propel himself. All the strength and quickness that made him so deadly on land was useless against the rage of the ocean. It was too late. Those few seconds he'd spent fighting off the curse again had given death the head start it needed. Ian roared with fury as he watched Alice get sucked past the rim of the chasm. Alice!

You stupid bastard. The voice of his teammate, Ryland Samuels, cut through the despair trying to consume him. We don’t have time to fish you out of there. Don’t you have a f*cking angel to save? If you let her die, I will carve you up myself. There was a loud crack and black light flashed from above the surface, and then Ryland's steel machete was streaking through the water, leaving behind a trail of foamy bubbles. Catch a ride before my woman dies. I threw the damn thing as hard as I could, but it won't keep up the speed long in the water.

Your woman? F*ck that. She's mine. Get your own damn woman. Ian lunged for the machete as it passed by him. His fingers closed on the engraved handle, and he grunted as it yanked him forward, nearly ripping his shoulder out of its socket. He ducked his head against the current to cut down on drag, turning just enough to keep Alice in his range of vision as she fell into the crevasse. He was gaining on her. Getting closer. Closing the gap. Come on! He reached for her mind, but there was no connection. He couldn't access her again. What the hell? She was his soul mate. Why was she so inaccessible to him?

Closer and closer. Almost there—

He reached the rim of the crevasse. Only yards away—

The machete began to slow down, and Ian let go of it as Alice began to pull away from him again. No! He called out his mace and hurled it past her. It slammed into the side of the crevasse just below Alice, its handle sticking out from the wall of the cliff. Alice crashed into it, like a tree branch breaking her fall. She bounced off it, and for a moment, his heart stopped. Then she grabbed it, locking her arms and legs around it, using his mace to resist the pull of the chasm.

Her hair was still streaming toward the bottom of the chasm, and the mace was bending downward, barely able to resist the force that was pulling them. Ian had a second, maybe two, to make it happen. He put on a burst of speed, swimming as hard as he could toward Alice, keeping his gaze fixed on his mace. Calculating how long he had until it was torn out of the wall.

Now! A split second before it ripped out, he threw his second mace. It hit right below Alice, and as the first mace tore away from the wall, she landed on the one he'd just thrown. She clung to it, her entire body wrapped around it as she fought against the sheer strength trying to suck her down. Black clouds swirled around her, demons waiting until she broke, so they could take her soul.

This time she's mine, Ian growled as he called back the mace that was free-falling into the chasm. It slammed into his hand just as he reached Alice. He smashed it into the wall, anchoring himself, then grabbed Alice, wrapping his arm around her waist just as his other mace was torn out from under her. She threw herself around him, her lean limbs wrapping around his neck and waist, her face buried against his chest. Her naked body plastered against him.

Jesus. For a split second, he couldn't move. He was overwhelmed by the shock of feeling her body against his. The heat from her body penetrated his clothes, and her skin was soft and vulnerable beneath his arm. The strength of her hold on him was riveting. It felt so right the way she was holding onto him. This was it. This was what he'd been pursuing for so long. Alice. In his arms—

She slipped slightly in his grasp, the movement jerking him back to the present and the force of the current still pulling on her. Shit. What the hell was wrong with him? He was a warrior, and this was battle, not time for a little nookie.

Ian immediately called back his still-falling mace. He sheathed it into his arm, beneath the brand that matched it. One arm was still locked around Alice, and his other hand was gripping the handle of the mace he'd jammed so deeply into the wall of the cliff, anchoring them against the forces trying to pull Alice downward.

He quickly took stock of his surroundings, assessing his best exit. With one arm wrapped around Alice, he could use only one weapon to get them out. The pull on her was extreme, and he could feel it working on him as well. Above him loomed a hundred-foot cliff that he'd have to climb before he'd reach the top of the chasm, let alone get back to the surface.

Shit. These were not optimal circumstances, even for him.

His Order of the Blade training would demand he choose his own life over hers if the choice had to be made, in order to fulfill his oath to trade the life of an innocent when necessary to save the greater good. The Order deemed all its members as critical for the protection of the greater good, so everything had to be sacrificed to keep the individual Order members alive. He was honor-bound to save himself instead of her, but the male within him disagreed big time. No chance would he let his woman die while he swam for freedom like some pansy-assed wuss who couldn't take care of his mate.

He had to make a move, and fast. His lungs were tight from holding his breath for so long, but he knew he still had time before he needed to surface. But Alice? He suddenly realized he didn't know what kind of powers she had. How bound was she by ordinary human-type limitations? Alice. Do you need to breathe?

She didn't lift her head, and he realized she hadn't heard him.

Shit. She'd shut him out. Once they got out of this mess, he was going to have to make it clear that jamming their mental connection was not a good plan when they were fighting for their lives. And how in the hell was his soul mate capable of shutting him out anyway? It shouldn't even be possible, and that realization made a shimmer of foreboding echo through him. What if he couldn't claim her? What if she was within his reach, but never ever his?

The idea made pulses of fear ripple violently, and the curse reverberated through him. Shit. Maybe he would have been better off not finding her...

Too late now.

He had her, and he was keeping her alive. Alice. Keeping his grip tight on both her and the mace lodged in the wall, he shrugged his shoulder, trying to communicate with her. At his nudge, she looked up. Her eyes were wide with terror.

He met her gaze, drilling into her mind. Do you need to breathe?

Her eyes widened, and he knew she'd heard him in her mind. Satisfaction and relief coursed through him. Yeah, that was the way it was supposed to be.

She nodded desperately.

I can breathe for you. Her gaze went to his mouth, and sudden heat radiated through him as he recalled exactly what her mouth tasted like. The sinful softness of her lips. The passion that simmered inside her, buried so deeply that he knew it wasn't ever supposed to come out...but he'd accessed it anyway.

Raw, intense physical need burned through him, and desire pulsed at him. She swallowed, nervousness flickering across her face, and he laughed softly. Sweetheart, trust me, I want to ravish you, but first I want to get out of this damn sinkhole. Breathing first. Sex later. But even as he said it, lust coursed through him, thick and dangerous, and he knew that he was lying. He burned for her so badly he'd take her right then and there if he knew she wouldn't drown in the process.

Alice hesitated, then nodded her assent, her gaze searching his. In those green eyes, he saw fear and more than a hint of desire. But there was something else in there too. A fierce determination to do whatever it took to survive. Her will to survive was stronger than her fear of who he was. Respect flashed through him, a connection, because he called on that same survival instinct every single day to fight off the curse and live another day. Suddenly, offering to help her breathe was no longer simply a chance to ravish those decadent lips of hers.

It became so much more than that.

It became about preserving a spirit that was fighting to live. That was what he was all about. That mission defined the very essence of who he was, and what he'd been doing for six hundred years: protecting others. And now, to protect the woman he was meant to be with? It was what he was born to do. You will live, Alice. He tightened his grip on her and lowered his head toward hers. Satisfaction thrummed through him when she raised her face to his, entrusting herself into his protection, exactly how it was supposed to be. I will keep you safe.

Then he took her mouth with his, and offered her life.