To Vanquish Darkness (Le Sombre #1)

Chapter 37

37

1836 COUNTRYSIDE BEYOND MORDELLES, FRANCE

A knock sounded at her bedroom door, and Amalie jolted. She slipped the ring into her pocket and jumped up from the bed.

“Amalie?” Bethany’s voice. Amalie rushed forward, pulling the door open and sweeping her little sister into her arms. She ran a hand over her braided hair, crushing her to her chest.

“Amalie, I can’t breathe.” Bethany’s voice was muffled, and Amalie relaxed her grip.

“Sorry. I’m so glad to see you.” Amalie pulled her into her room and closed the door.

“It’s only been a few days. You owe me an explanation, by the way.” Bethany was about to flop onto the bed when Amalie stopped her. She crouched and scooped up the items she’d spread out on the quilt, moving them to the nightstand.

“What are those?” Bethany asked as she sat.

Amalie crossed the room and used a match to light the candle on her writing desk. She pointed at the pile of splintered wood still sitting on the floor. “I opened the box.”

Bethany’s eyes widened. “It looks like you took a rock to the box.”

Amalie stubbed out the match. She sat next to Bethany on the bed and sighed. “I couldn’t figure out how to open it.”

Bethany’s eyes locked onto the collection of items she’d moved off the bed, and Amalie felt a pang in her middle as she fingered her mother’s locket. Her sister didn’t remember. She’d only been two when their mother passed.

Amalie had vivid memories of their mother. Of the way wisps of her hair escaped and brushed over her face as she worked in the garden. The way she chewed on her lower lip when she was studying one of her books.

“This was hers.” Amalie held the necklace out, allowing Bethany to inspect it.

“It was in the box?”

Amalie nodded.

Bethany held it up, turning it this way and that. “Does it open?”

Amalie shrugged. “I don’t think so.”

“Please don’t take to it the way you did with that.” Bethany pointed at the remains of the box.

Amalie snorted. She scooped the other items from the nightstand and placed them in her lap.

“Were these hers, too?”

“This was.” Amalie handed her the notebook.

“Have you read it?” Bethany asked. Amalie shook her head, and she handed it back to her. “I won’t look before you do.” She picked up the vial and inspected it.

“I thought it could be for perfume, but there isn’t any lingering smell.”

Bethany pulled out the stopper and held her nose close to the opening. She nodded in agreement. “Did she wear perfume?”

Amalie considered this. “I think so. But I’m not quite sure. She smelled fresh, like sweet pea blossoms.”

Bethany handed back the vial. “I wish I remembered more.”

Amalie’s throat tightened. "Me too." She had the sudden urge to tell Bethany everything. To assure her their mother wasn’t gone, not really. That she would be reborn, and so would they. But the complexity of it overwhelmed her.

Who were they to each other if they were new in every life? How often did they find themselves living again, and where did their spirits go in the interim? She didn’t know if they’d ever see their mother again, and that tinged the entire story black at the edges.

“Your clothes are strange,” Bethany said, and Amalie laughed. She’d forgotten she was still dressed in Olivie’s pants and shirt.

Amalie stood and crossed to the armoire. She unlatched the belt and pulled off the trousers, exhaling at the sudden freedom around her middle.

“Where have you been?” Bethany’s voice was timid, and Amalie hated that she’d given her sister a reason to be hesitant around her.

“I was traveling north. In Normandy.”

“Were you with them?”

Amalie pulled on a clean pair of slacks. She glanced at Bethany who fiddled with a loose fingernail, not meeting her eyes.

Bethany knew of her work with the Pourfendeurs. No doubt it was a regular topic of dinner conversation. How she was a terrible example and Bethany should never follow in her sister’s footsteps.

“No. Not this time.” Amalie set Olivie’s shirt on the desk and pulled on a clean tunic. A soft knock came at the door, and Amalie jumped a second time.

“It’s Aunt Maurielle. May I come in?”

“Yes.” Amalie crossed the room and set the items from the box next to her right hip on the bed, obscuring them from view.

Maurielle opened the door and leaned into the bedroom. She gave Amalie a small smile. “Would you like to come down for supper?" She turned to Bethany. "Since you and the girls have already eaten, I was hoping you might be willing to put your cousins down for bed.”

Bethany seemed to read something in Maurielle’s expression. “Of course.” She squeezed Amalie’s hand and walked to the door, then turned back. “I still want that explanation.”

Amalie huffed a laugh. “In the morning?”

Bethany shot her a look, then slipped past their aunt and disappeared into the hall.

Amalie stood. She barely made it two steps before Maurielle was folding her into her arms. "I'm so glad you're safe." Her body was warm and soft, and she smelled of herbs and strong soap. "Come," Aunt Maurielle said, stepping back and holding out a hand. "I'm sure you're hungry."

Amalie followed her aunt downstairs. She patted the ring in her pocket, and her pulse quickened. It was from Theo’s coven, which meant he knew the vampire who had been meeting with her mother. He knew the vampire who killed her.

The only question was, did he know he knew? Was this another piece of information he’d been keeping from her?

But she’d asked him if he knew who killed her, and Theo hadn’t avoided answering. Even though he’d kept things from her, he’d never lied, not directly.

Amalie held her breath as Maurielle rounded the corner to the dining room. Would he be there? She assumed Maurielle sent Bethany away because Theo was in the house, but she hadn’t realized how much she’d been hoping to see him until she stepped into the candlelight and found him seated next to Uncle Oren.

The dining room was quaint. Just as she remembered it, with a muslin tablecloth and a small vase of fall blooms in the center. She took her seat across from Theo where a plate already waited.

Theo's eyes flicked to the locket around Amalie's neck, but he didn't say anything. She wondered if he could sense the ring hidden in her pocket.

Amalie picked up her fork and glanced up at Aunt Maurielle. "Thank you. It smells delicious."

Uncle Oren waited for her to take the first bite, then began cutting his meat. Theo swirled a glass in front of him. Absinthe, she assumed by the color. She held back her surprise that Oren and Maurielle would have any in the house.

Theo looked tired. She hadn’t noticed how his cheekbones were dusted with shadow in the office. She’d only seen him look like that one other time. In the castle. When he’d been about to leave and she’d stopped him.

The memory of him next to her in his closet. His lips against her skin . . . Her cheeks heated, and she focused on her plate, shoving a piece of potato into her mouth.

When she looked up, Theo's eyes were on her. Because you asked me to. His words in the study thrummed through her.

He had been protecting guardians. Working with Uncle Oren all this time. Is that where he’d gone when he left the castle? He would be a perfect ally, powerful, and free to walk during daylight. Had she known that about him in a past life?

Amalie speared a tender piece of chicken and placed it in her mouth. Who was Theo Vallon to her? Who did she want him to be?

“I’ve brought down books for you.” Uncle Oren swiped at his mouth with a napkin. “I know it’s long overdue, but I’ll answer your questions, Amalie. Whatever you want to know.”

Amalie looked up from her plate. Her uncle’s eyes were sad, almost glassy in the candlelight. “My mother’s books?”

He nodded. “She read them more than I did. They were passed down to us by our—” His voice caught, and he coughed into his napkin. “By her mother,” he finished, his voice strained.

The air in the room grew thick. “Her mother?” Amalie’s fork sat still in her hand.

Oren drank from his glass. “Rachel and I weren’t family by birth. She was in need of a home. We adopted her in.” He glanced up at Theo, but Theo’s eyes were still trained on her.

Amalie suddenly felt like a rabbit caught in a trap. She set her fork on her plate. “Where are the books?”

Oren nodded to the hall. “In my study. I set them on my desk.”

Amalie stood and placed her napkin on the table. “Thank you.” She dropped her eyes and strode from the room.

She couldn’t make it down the hall fast enough. She entered the study and closed the door behind her, pressing her forehead against the cool wood.

It felt as if she were staring at the sea, watching a tidal wave rushing toward the shore, ready to swallow her, but her feet were buried in sand.

There was something in her past that neither Oren or Theo wanted to tell her. The way they looked at her, sitting in wait.

Was she supposed to remember? Had she remembered before?

Amalie straightened and strode to her uncle’s desk, the scent of dust and aged paper settling in her nostrils. Her heart galloped as she saw the stack of books below where her uncle had been standing earlier when she’d caught him with Theo.

She hunched over and pressed her hands against the desk, her dark hair falling into her face. She brushed it behind her ear in an irritated flick and pulled the first book from the pile. The spine was cracked, the book bound with worn leather, and the title was almost unreadable.

Le Livre de la Garde. Amalie sat in her uncle’s chair and opened it. The pages were fragile, the words penned in ink. Theo’s voice sounded in her head. Human histories are necessary because your life spans are short. Those stories must be recorded more permanently.

Amalie shivered and began to read.

Lovely.

Deadly.

Cloaked in shadow,

Bound by light.

Two sides of

The same eternal night.

The Great Eclipse.

In the time of eternal twilight, Solène and Le Sombre existed in perfect harmony as one being, a union of light and dark, maintaining the delicate balance of the world created for humanity. Together, they ruled over all, a peaceful force that mirrored the beauty of the dawn and dusk where their realms of light and shadow met. The gods, pleased with this balance, watched over the world with pride. However, as the ages passed, even the gods grew weary of endless harmony.

They began to tease and prod at the unity of Solène and Le Sombre. The gods planted seeds of discontent until finally, the tension between light and dark became too great. The harmonious being that was Solène and Le Sombre fractured, torn into two opposing forces, each desiring dominion over the world. Solène embodied the purity and brilliance of light, while Le Sombre claimed the depths of shadow.

But both were incomplete without the other. Le Sombre, filled with longing and ache, created dark companions to share in his misery. These beings were birthed from the shadows and cursed with an insatiable thirst, never able to truly possess the life force they craved.

Solène pleaded with Le Sombre, begging for an end to suffering. But without her light, Le Sombre could not see past his own darkness.

Amalie paused, reading a note in the margin in her mother’s hand.

You were not made merely to fight the darkness, but to bring forth the light within it. Help them see beyond the shadow.

She read it again, her vision blurring as tears filled her eyes, then flipped the page. She read the last paragraph of the introduction.

What follows is a record containing the fullness of the guardian bond and the light we wield. Until the Day of Light, guardians will wait. They will serve. They will protect. And when she who is sent to bind appears, they will follow.

Amalie had barely begun to absorb the words when she startled at the sound of a boot scuffing on stone.

Her head snapped up, making tears drop onto her cheeks. Amalie stood and wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Theo’s voice was low.

Amalie worked to swallow the lump in her throat. “I don’t think there’s much you could do to startle me at this point.”

Theo’s eyes shuttered. “Fair enough.” He took a step closer to the front of the desk. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“About the sword? No.” She shook her head. “I?—”

“I wasn’t talking about the sword.” He was in front of her now, only Uncle Oren’s desk between them. Amalie breathed him in, giving in for just a few moments to the desire that constantly hummed beneath her skin when he was close.

Or even when he wasn’t. She was like a compass, always pointing toward him. Whether she was in the castle or alone in her hotel room in Servon.

“Is there something I did?” Amalie dropped her eyes, her throat working. “I mean in the past. Did I hurt you? Is that why you attacked in my room. Why you were cold?—”

“No.” Theo’s body tensed.

“Then why?” She finally looked up, not trying to hide the new tears pooling in her eyes.

Theo’s hands trembled at his sides. “You wouldn’t have believed me.”

“You could’ve tried.”

“No. I couldn’t.” He turned, dragging a hand over his face. “I had to take you to the island. I needed you to be safe.”

“Because of the wards?”

His eyes snapped to hers. “How do you know about that?”

“Ren. I told you, he?—”

“I came to tell you I’m leaving,” Theo snapped. “I need to find him. He wasn’t supposed to be at the castle.”

Amalie’s breathing quickened. “He was in Servon. He may have followed me, I don’t know.”

“I’ll find him.” Theo turned, but the idea of him walking out of the study and leaving the house made her feel as if a hand was clenched around her windpipe.

“Wait.”

Theo glanced back, and Amalie shoved her hand into her pocket and pulled out the ring she’d found in her mother’s box. She placed it on the desk.

His eyes locked onto the circle of silver, and he moved like a shadow in front of the desk. Theo picked it up and inspected it. “It’s not mine. Where did you get this?”

Amalie opened her uncle’s desk drawer and pulled out the ring she’d taken from him the night she’d stabbed him in the heart. “I know it’s not yours.” She placed his ring on the desk, and Theo snatched it up.

“Where did you get this?” he asked again.

“It was hers. She left me a box, and that ring was in it. I only just discovered it.” She scrutinized his face, searching for any flicker of . . . something. Recognition? Guilt? Theo’s face was a mask of stone. “She had been meeting a vampire, Theo, and then this ring?—”

Theo slid his own ring back on the ring finger of his left hand. Had she noticed that was where he’d worn it when she’d taken it from him?

As he straightened, Amalie felt the same chill from the hallway. When they’d found Penelope broken, crumpled on the stone. “Theo?—”

“This ring belongs to a member of my coven. I will find him.” Shadows seemed to press in around him, soaking into him like water on dry soil. The shadows around his eyes grew deeper, his eyes dark pools of midnight.

“Let me help you.” Amalie’s breath hitched. The idea of Theo leaving the house made the knot in her middle cinch so tight, she thought she might snap in two.

“Amalie, you can’t?—”

“You need to feed. I know. I can see it.” She thought of him with the knife in his hands. Ramon’s fingers against the blade. “You can—we can take care of it the way we did last time. Quickly.”

Theo seemed to groan under an invisible weight on his shoulders. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“You need to feed.”

“I’m well aware,” he growled.

“Then let me help.” Amalie rounded the desk and reached for him.

Theo caught her wrist, and she gasped as he pulled so fast and hard, her feet flew out from under her. Theo caught her waist, righting her. “It’s too dangerous.”

She shook her head. “You didn’t hurt me last time.”

“ That’s not what I meant. You don’t understand.”

“Then let me. ” She snatched her hand back, her eyes flashing. “I will not let you leave like this. You’ll kill someone.”

“If I stay, I’ll—” A strangled sound escaped his throat, and something tugged hard in her middle.

Amalie reached out and touched him. She’d never done it before, not like this. Not because she wanted to.

Theo froze, besides the rapid rise and fall of his chest, every part of him so still, it was as if he’d been cast in stone.

“You won’t hurt me,” she whispered. “I know you won’t.” Amalie ran her hands over his chest, feeling the beat of his heart through her fingertips. He was darkness. Deadly. And her body ached for him.

“I can’t do this again.” Theo’s voice was so low, she wasn’t sure if she’d heard it.

Amalie stretched a hand to his face, and he shivered under her touch. “Please, Theo. Let me help.”