Surrender the Void Page 4

  I nearly spit. “Wha-excuse me?” My face screamed red and I couldn’t look him in the eye. “I never told you I’d marry you. And even if I did, I definitely won’t be consummating it. This would be like…like a marriage of convenience.” I scoffed. “More like inconvenience, really. I get info on where my brother is and what really happened to him. You get…out. Beyond that…you can’t force me.”

  “Won’t have to.” The arrogance that dripped from his words made me want to punch him in the face and see if that force would turn his bones to ash. “Like I said before, rape’s not my style. I never had that problem, know what I mean? And I won’t have it with you.”

  “Eat shit,” I snapped, curling my fingers into fists.

  “I’d rather eat you.” Suddenly, he disappeared. Before I could react to that, he popped back in front of me, right in front of me, so his chest grazed mine. There was no such thing as personal space, nothing that would imply I hated him and that we were strangers. “You can pretend all you want, babes. But I know your type.”

  “My type?” I hated that he could get me to react, to distract him from asking important questions and focusing on things that shouldn’t bother me - like his nearness, like the way his voice was an octave lower than usual and created this snagging sensation I couldn’t tell if I liked or not.

  No. Of course I didn’t like it.

  This was Keaton.

  “Seemingly innocent,” he said. He took a step forward forcing me to take a step back or else I’d touch him in a rather intimate way that I did not want to experience. “Probably a virgin. Righteous, though not quite a martyr. Curious, but too stubborn to ask. Too prideful to reach out and take what you want.”

  “And you think I want you?” I blurted out.

  Instead of being offended, that same smarmy smile crawled back on his face. “There’s no thinking about it, babes,” he said. “I know you do. You might be repulsed by me, by the very idea of me. Sure, I’m not attractive in the obvious of ways. Not a pretty boy. But I know how to make you fall to your knees, to cry out my name like a prayer, like a fucking curse. I know what you want, Kara.”

  I swallowed but it did nothing for the desert that was my mouth. He reached for me and, dammit, I couldn’t move. I wanted to. I wanted to, but I couldn’t.

  It had to be the dream.

  It had to be.

  Because there was no way I would be okay with this, being this close to him. There was no way I was drawing towards him, no way I wanted him to touch me.

  And when his fingertip pressed my bottom lip, there was no way a spark jumped at the connection, no way my pelvis throbbed, no way I leaned into it.

  “Want me to tell you what you want?” he asked in a low, dumbly voice.

  I wanted to tell him to kindly fuck off, but the words were lodged in my throat. I was incapable of speaking at all.

  “You want the darkness,” he said. “You want the Void. It scares you. I scare you. But you’re pulled to it all the same. And that piques your insatiable curiosity, your desire to understand.”

  He licked his bottom lip and I whimpered without thinking about it.

  His eyes narrowed on my mouth. The green darkened in forest green, and as I stared at them, I realized there were flecks of gold deeply embedded in the hue.

  “Uh uh uh,” he drawled out before clicking his tongue against the back of his teeth. “Don’t go making those noises around me, babes. Not unless you can finish what you start.”

  “I’m not starting anything,” I managed to get out. I didn’t even care that I whispered. At least I said them in the first place.

  “Aren’t you?” He tilted his head to the side. “I bet ya if I kissed you right now, you would kiss me back. You’d enjoy it. You’d make more of those noises. You would let me peel your clothes off and bury my tongue deep in your cunt until you twitched and spasmed all of your juices on my face. Jesus, I’m getting hard just thinking about how you’d taste.”

  I reached up to slap him.

  At least, I thought I would slap him. Instead, I clutched his face. He was surprisingly sturdy, his skin soft.

  “Marry me, babes,” he whispered. “Marry me and I’ll eat you out whenever the fuck you want. I’ll do more to you, torture you with slow pleasure that’ll overwhelm you.”

  I couldn’t think straight. I opened my mouth. I didn’t even know what I was going to say.

  And then, I woke up.

  6

  I showered.

  I needed to scrub off the feeling of Keaton. Even though he hadn’t touched me, not really, it was like he left some sort of mark on me that branded me as his. It was disgusting and I hated myself, hated that I could get caught in his vicious, unforgiving web.

  All for a brother who was probably dead.

  No.

  I couldn’t think that way. I couldn’t give up on Richard. There was no body, and when I saw him being dragged off by the shades, he was still alive. Screaming. The sound echoed through my mind even now. Sometimes, it was the last thing I heard before sleeping. I could hear that raw fear in it, the hopelessness. My chest seized up, tightening, like a snake cooling around my chest and squeezing the life from me.

  I scrubbed and scrubbed under the fiery water, trying to cleanse my very soul. If I could erase Keaton from my mind, I would. I wanted nothing to do with the him. I wished I had never gone into that crypt, wanted nothing to do with his filthy promises.

  Just thinking of them now caused me to shudder. I squeezed my pelvis. Tension sprouted against my fingertips, desperately needing release.

  I was sick, completely deranged. What was I doing, thinking of pleasure, of bringing myself to pleasure, all because of that-that thing. He should repulse me.

  And he did.

  But it wasn’t enough.

  And that was what I hated the most. I knew how bad he was for me and I didn’t care.

  On the other hand, releasing that tension might help.

  Double no.

  There was no way I was even considering this. I shook my head and forced myself to step out of the shower.

  Not a great idea, considering I hadn’t even dried off. My entire body erupted in goosebumps. My nipples marbled under the cool air, and I quickly wrapped a fluffy white towel over my body, trying to warm myself up.

  I couldn’t believe I was even contemplating touching myself in order to release tension that built up because of Keaton. There was so much to unpack there. All I knew was I was messed up in the head.

  I quickly threw on clothes and toweled off my hair. I decided to leave my hair down, letting it air-dry. I needed to figure out a plan.

  At the end of the day, what mattered was Richard. Could Keaton even deliver on his promise of giving me information on Richard? On telling me, once and for all, whether he was alive?

  I believed him when he said he was a man of his word. I didn’t know why I did, but something in me told him that was something important to him.

  Other than that, I didn’t have a clue.

  A shiver slid down my spine. Luckily, the old academy building was heated and I didn’t have to worry about catching a cold. I slipped on my slippers and plopped at my desk. I booted up my laptop Davidson had given to me for my sixteenth birthday four years ago. It groaned and took forever to boot up, but once it did, I pulled up my browser and began to type in Keaton’s name.

  The problem was, there was a bunch of different Keatons, including prominent actors and actresses.

  This was going to take forever.

  I blew out a breath. Luckily, it was Sunday. I had all the time in the world.

  The library was empty when I stepped inside, as I knew it would be. Everyone attended mass here. Everyone but me. I had nothing against religion and while I did believe in God, something bothered me about a human interpreting something so spiritual and then applying the lessons to the community in general. I supposed that was the only thing they could do to get the message across but still. I’d rather read the Bible and take what I needed, minus the guilt.

  My Google search left me wanting. There were a couple of websites that mentioned Keaton and his death place without going into the details of his life. Other than that, I had nothing that was going to help me.

  I expected more. Keaton was practically blasphemy to utter out loud, and now, I understood why. Saying it three times would give him a temporary freedom out of his crypt - kind of like a genie who was bound to come when his lamp was rubbed. I wondered if Keaton could reject the call if he wanted, though why he’d want that if he was so intent on getting out, I didn’t know.

  If there was any information on the Keaton I needed answers about, it would be in this library. I passed the empty desk, removing my jacket due to the overwhelming warmth. I let myself relax, let myself enjoy the calm stillness. There was no one I had to answer to, no one to question my motives or why I was looking into him. Granted, it wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility to look into Keaton. There was a morbid curiosity about someone that was clearly so powerful, so evil, and so trapped within his crypt. Everything we were taught told us just how dangerous he was, how lethal he could be.

  “He’s not like the other shades,” professors would say. “He still has his magic, but he can’t do anything within his crypt. He can’t break out of it.”

  But what did he do? What were the specifics?

  Trails of blood and tears followed him while he was free, but why? What was his motive?

  And what could he do, exactly?

  I believed everything the Keepers told me about him. I couldn’t even bring myself to say his name in conversation.

  Before.

  Before Graham approached me.

  Before Graham told me Keaton was a lie, a ruse, to keep us from misbehaving, from stepping out of line. Keaton didn’t exist, he insisted. Keaton was a tool created for compliance, to inspire fear and subservience. What they kept in that crypt was a secret - real humans they were feeding to shades, to keep their shades alive.

  It was lunacy.

  Even I knew that.

  But I couldn’t get over the fact that the shades took my brother. Shades weren’t supposed to do that. They were little poltergeists, filled with mischief and a semblance of danger. If there was a swarm of them, that spelled out certain death unless one was clever enough to escape. But there was no reason for them to take a human and bring them back somewhere. That made no sense. What could shades want with a human besides to feed on it? And usually, shades weren’t in the right mind to rationalize that they should take the human back and feed on it when hungry, saving the remains for later rather than consuming everything at once.

  I had to check out the crypt.

  What if my brother was there?

  It was a long shot, something I shouldn’t even hope for. I knew that. But maybe if I didn’t find my brother, I’d find something else that would lead me to my brother.

  Except, I found Keaton.

  Keaton did exist.

  It was just…

  I pursued a bookshelf under the history section, chewing on my bottom lip. I wasn’t sure I’d find what I was looking for but I had to try.

  Keaton wasn’t at all like I expected him to be. And Graham wasn’t right but neither were the Keepers. They lied about something huge. And Keaton was certain he could help. At least, he could try.

  The thing was, I wasn’t sure I could trust him. I could feel his power, knew what he was capable of. He wasn’t a shade at all, but a heathen - something else the Keepers kept from their students.

  But why?

  And what did they want him for?

  Keaton mention experiments, but how? In what way?

  There were too many questions and not enough answers. Even as I grabbed a few books, I already knew I wasn’t going to find what I was looking for here. The Keepers weren’t that stupid. If they lied about Keaton, they would lie about everything else.

  Which called into question who I could trust.

  I dropped the books on the surface of the table. A loud smack vibrated across it. I looked over my shoulder, only to remember no one else was here. No one could hear me.

  I flipped open the first book and began to skim through it. There, in detail, was the war between angels, how Lucifer chose to go against God, how he was cast out. What Lucifer didn’t expect was the loyalty of some humans who were tired of dedicating their lives to a god they couldn’t see, touch, or hear. Lucifer was tangible even if he was evil. As such, he created his kingdoms in Hell and allowed those humans to live there. But choosing Lucifer meant going against God. Those humans were stripped of their decency, their soul, and they turned into demons.

  That was what history told us. That was what the Keepers reiterated over and over again,

  Everything was a choice. Everything was a sacrifice.

  And we, as Keepers, were the last line of defense for humanity. We chased down shades and captured them. We prevented demons from scurrying over here from Hell.

  And heathens? Those were supposed to be rare, almost impossible. Heathens had the magic of Lucifer but the corporal form of a human who was, at one point, alive. These were some of the few Lucifer had chosen himself to lead his army when he chose to invade earth and round up humanity for himself. They were nearly as dangerous as Lucifer, tricky, mischievous, and dangerous.

  Keaton was a heathen. Now that I had seen him for myself, now that I knew what he was capable of, I knew what he was.

  And yet, the Keepers hadn’t told us that. They said he was dangerous but not to the extent of being a heathen.

  Why?

  I continued to flip through the books I selected. There was no new information. Keaton was mentioned a few times. I tried to look for a link between him and Lucifer, any indication of who he was in Hell or even who he was as a human before he aligned with Lucifer, but there was nothing.

  I blew out a breath, sat back in my chair. Everything ached.

  I stood up, stretching to my left, to my right. I wished there was someone I could talk to about this. I wished there was someone who could tell me the truth. If I went to Davidson, I knew he wouldn’t tell me everything. He had the opportunity to do just that after I discovered Keaton and chose not to. As much as I trusted him, as much as I looked at him like some kind of surrogate father, I couldn’t talk to him about what Keaton offered me, about what it might mean. At the end of the day, he was loyal to the Keepers.

  And my friends? They wouldn’t understand. They never saw someone close to them dragged away by shades, completely powerless to help.

  Maybe I was chasing ghosts, but this was Richard. Everything I did, I did for him, to find some way to find him again. I couldn’t back down now, not when there was a chance I had a lead.

  Which meant I would meet with Keaton tonight. I wouldn’t tell anyone. I would sneak out, break into his crypt, and then, I would agree to marry him.

  7

  I almost got caught.

  Almost.

  I had been here the last thirteen years, even though Keepers tended to go through four years of formal education at the academy before they actually were placed in a team and got training in the field. I wasn’t sure if it was because they found me when I was seven and the academy didn’t accept students until they were eighteen, but I was still halfway through fieldwork. Regardless, I knew the academy grounds like I knew the lines on my favorite book. As a kid, I liked to explore, and Davidson let me. I didn’t have to dream about my parents’ murder, about watching Richard be taken from me without doing anything about it. I threw myself into exploration as a way to distract myself and it worked.

  The academy had so many secret passageways, a basement that had a basement, even an old dungeon that was locked. I learned how to lock pick at the black gates of that dungeon but I wasn’t any closer to breaking in. I explored everything I could. The only thing Davidson explicitly told me was off-limits was the cemetery. Something about honoring the dead and being respectful of those that passed on.

  Which made sense to me.

  I listened to him about that.

  Now, as I made my way back to the cemetery under the blanket of black sky and dim stars, I questioned whether he was really being honest about that at all.

  My heart was still racing, beating against my chest like it was trying to beat itself out of my body.

  There was a doorway in the kitchen that the waiters and chefs used to take their smoke breaks. It was a round, wooden thing in the kitchen no one really knew about it because people weren’t allowed in the kitchen.

  Except me.

  One of the cooks, Mara, took me under her wing. I would watch the oven while she took extra-long cigarette breaks, and in exchange, she’d feed me her famous sweet rolls after hours. As such, I knew exactly where the door was and I was pretty adept at knowing the cooks and their breaks. People didn’t tend to change all that much.

  However, I completely forgot that Samhain was a celebration, practically a holiday. Even though it was a day later, there was a completely new rotation of kitchen staff tonight, and one seemed to want to get a head start on Monday morning breakfast, because as I strolled into the dark kitchen, she was measuring flour. It took me pressing myself under a dining cart and waiting fifteen cramped minutes before I was able to dash out the door and run for the cemetery. My black clothing easily blended in with the night, and my blonde hair was tucked into a beanie so I wouldn’t draw any unwanted attention to myself.

  Still. That was too close.

  When I reached the gates of the cemetery, I paused. I quickly picked the locks, but opening the gate would be more difficult. The rust on these things screamed even if they were opened an inch or two. I blew out a breath.

  I might have to take my chances.

  I slowly peeled the gate apart. It started to squeak, a shirking sound I had hoped would be muffled by the whooing of an owl or a rumble of thunder. Unfortunately, noises such as those weren’t prevalent.