Chapter 16: A Light in the Darkness

It happened the same way as before. A golden light appeared and carved arcane symbols around her feet and vanished in almost the same instant, but it was enough to make her enemy quail in fear. Alyssa didn't know where the mysterious light came from, or how the glass bottle twisted itself into the shape of the pale blue bow; was it her own power, or power lent to her from Rooders past?

She wasn't sure just where the strange power that flowed out of her and into the bow came from, either, but the same calm she felt the last time she held it flowed over her as she raised the glass bow and pointed it at her enemy. He growled and raised his own weapon, only to recoil with a pain-filled holler as a ball of light struck him, sparking like golden electricity.

Alyssa soon formed a strategy of getting a shot off and then running to the safety of the other side of the generator. It wasn't easy; he seemed to move quicker the madder he got, and by the time she had struck him several times he was seething with rage.

"Enough of these games," he cried out, pointing at her again.

Alyssa quickly took to her heels, dodging to what she thought was a safe distance away—but instead of waving the rod and releasing a mist-like spray like he usually did, he tugged a switch on the side and a stream like water from a hose came firing out at her. Alyssa was so surprised she barely had time to throw herself to the ground. She instinctively covered her head and held still as she hoped that the acid didn't sprinkle her back as it arced over her.

She didn't move until she heard the faint sizzle of the acid hitting the far well. Unscathed, she quickly lifted her head—just in time to see her enemy diving at her, arms outstretched. She rolled to the side as fast as she could, ignoring the pain in her shoulder as it grazed the coarse ground. Her attacker landed on his round belly and bounced in place for a moment, giggling like a crazed child as he stretched out his gloved hands. Alyssa pulled her ankles out of his reach and got to her feet with a sound of revulsion.

Instead of getting up, Haigh waved his weapon at her from where he was, forcing her to back away even further as acid spurted and splattered across the dusty concrete floor. By the time he decided to get up, Alyssa had prepared and fired off another shot, making him roar in pain and fury again.

Alyssa could see that he was weakening rapidly. Like Morris before him, curls of black smoke were seeping through his torn clothes, and his movements grew increasingly slow and jerky. Alyssa's own energy felt stronger than ever, and she again ran, exhilarated, to the other side of the generator.

As she waited for Haigh to scurry into range, she prepared another arrow of light. The more excited she grew, the more 'kick' the arrows seemed to have, as if her mental energy was giving them a boost. Concentrating hard, she focused all her thought on the spot between her fingers and continued to wait. The golden energy cupped in the curve of the bow sparkled and crackled wildly, brighter and more vibrant than ever.

As the undead killer scuttled nearer, his breath ragged, Alyssa hesitated. She knew she shouldn't wait, not when he was so dangerously close, but she wanted to hold the energy just a little longer. Just a second more and it would all be over, she was sure of it. Unless her brief pause gave enough window for him to unleash a fresh wave of acid—then it really would be over. Seeing her hesitation, Haigh raised his weapon with another insane laugh.

And then something happened neither of them expected. The nozzle jammed.

"Damn it!" Haigh snarled as he furiously shook the metal rod, trying to clear it.

This is it! the voice inside her cried. The energy sparking between her fingers felt like it was coursing through her very veins, warming her to the core and wiping away every last shred of fear and doubt. With her head held high and her bow poised with all the grace and strength of an Amazon princess, she called out what she knew were her last words to her undead foe. "You'll never hurt another soul ever again."

Haigh had been knocking the clogged nozzle on the floor, but her words made him jerk up with a start. Alyssa imagined his face was horrified behind his mask as the sphere of energy, larger and brighter than any of the others, flew towards him like a flaming comet. Haigh tried to dodge, but it was too late; the blast struck him squarely in the chest and erupted into a wild spray of white light that seemed to engulf his entire body.

Alyssa, eyes squinted from the brightness, stared in awe. The crackling energy hadn't just surrounded him—it was somehow holding him in place, like a tether. Haigh struggled and hollered and thrashed about, but it was as if he was rooted to the floor. Her heart pounding so fast she couldn't tell one beat from another, Alyssa raised her bow one last time.

With her enemy ensnared, the energy seemed to explode from her fingers. A tingling sensation flared through her arms clear to her elbows as the final arrow of light shot out from the bow. Twisting like a spiral, the arrow sailed through the air and struck its target with a fiery burst of gold and white. Blinded for a moment, Alyssa shielded her eyes and listened to Haigh's harsh screams as his body was torn apart. As the light faded, so did what was left of the Subordinate, leaving behind only a faint wisp of smoke that soon faded away like a mist in the breeze.

Warmth on her palm made her look down. To her surprise the bow was melting like candle wax, and the next thing she knew she was clutching the ornate blue bottle. She tucked it back under her belt again, ready and waiting for the next time it was needed.

The exhilaration and adrenaline of battle left her in a rush and her knees nearly buckled as she staggered over to Haigh's final resting place. The floor beneath where he had stood was still smoking faintly and—just as she had suspected—there was an object about the size of her thumbnail lying on the concrete, an object made of sterling silver and shaped like a heart. Alyssa felt numb inside as she picked it up and placed it in her pocket with the other one.

All she needed were two more pieces and the pendant would be complete. As she walked slowly back to the wall with the fans, a series of thoughts began to form in her mind—thoughts she didn't like.

Were the other two pieces in the hands of two more Subordinates? She didn't want to face any more. And she really didn't want to think about how or why they each had a piece of her mother's pendant. That train of thought was a dangerous one and she wasn't ready to follow it just yet.

Outside, the rain had lightened to a faint drizzle. Alyssa's clothes, mostly dried during her frenzied battle, began to dampen again, and although she ached clear down to her bones she hurried up the stairs and back inside the Rand's home, but not out of desire to get away from the rain.

The back hall was quiet except for the faint sound of Dorothy crying to herself. Alyssa carefully tested the doorknob, and when it didn't jerk or buzz or do anything else out of the ordinary, she turned it slowly and pushed the door open.

The room that had served as Dorothy's prison was small and dark, with no furnishing except for a small table, a chair and an old ironing board. Dorothy was seated in the chair, face buried in her worn hands and sobbing quietly. Alyssa reached into her skirt pocket and was surprised to feel that the shawl was dry and soft. She pulled it out and saw that the colors were bright and clean again, no longer stained with rainwater.

Dorothy lifted her head when she felt Alyssa gently drape the shawl around her shoulders. For a moment her face was pinched with fear and confusion—but then her eyes opened, bright and wide with astonishment.

"I can see," she whispered, amazed.

Alyssa stayed quiet as she smiled and stepped to the side. This moment wasn't for her. She could already hear the sound of Albert's footsteps as he rushed down the hall. A moment later he burst in, his own eyes brimming with tears. "Mother?"

With a joyous cry, Dorothy ran to and embraced her son. For a moment they clung to each other and wept, but the tears soon faded. The pair was smiling the smile of inexpressible gratitude.

"Saying thank you isn't nearly enough," said Albert, "but it's all we can do."

"It's more than enough," Alyssa said quickly.

They were already beginning to fade. Hands raised in farewell, mother and son left their torment behind forever, memories of their dark time already forgotten. Alyssa watched until they were gone, waving in return, before nervously clenching her hand at her side. She thought she might faint again and wake up back in her own room, but nothing happened.

Nothing to her, anyway. The room itself suddenly began to look strange. The walls were receding as though someone were pushing them back and the floor beneath her feet was rippling like water. Reflex made her back away, eyes darting around for a safe spot to run to, but there was nothing she could do. The room continued to shift and warp around her, expanding and brightening. The hardwood floor melted into black and white tile, and a staircase grew in front of her, sprouting up step by step as it stretched to meet a balcony that appeared in the air above her head. Mauve carpet slid up the steps like a ribbon.

When the world finally stopped shifting and the room became whole, Alyssa let out her breath and sagged with stunned relief; she was back in the entryway of her own home. The polished floor and elegant railing had never looked so beautiful.

As if sensing the new surrounding, every cell in her body started screaming for her to sit down already. Alyssa looked up the stairs at the level above. If she could somehow drag herself up the steps, her room was right around the corner. Just picturing the trip made her slump over further, and her weary bones almost groaned audibly.

The lodger's section of the ground floor wasn't any closer than her bedroom, but she didn't have to climb any stairs to get to it. She wanted to head to the nearest bathroom to find something to treat her shoulder with, and if she went upstairs she would have to go all the way down the hall to the one near her mother's room. Plus she had an open invitation to drop by whenever she wanted, so she moved around the base of the staircase and entered the door the led to the guest wing.

As she passed by the open door that led into Edward's room, she only needed to pause for a second to see that he wasn't around. Disappointed, Alyssa moved on; she had been hoping she might talk to him about everything she had just seen and experienced—or at the very least ask him where the bathroom was. With no one around to point her in the right direction, she was forced to wander up and down the hallway, opening and closing doors until she found a small, square room with a toilet, sink and squat cupboard.

After a brief search in the cupboard she found a tube of cream used to treat burns, which she rubbed liberally on her aching shoulder. As she left her jacket on the corner of the sink to give the cream a chance to absorb into her skin, she found herself looking at her own reflection in the oval mirror hanging on the wall. Her face looked pale and tired and her hair was a tangled mess, but her eyes were surprisingly wide and bright. As she peered closer at the glass her gaze fell on a wash rag folded next to the soap dish; she dampened it and began wiping her face.

As she rubbed the dust and grime off her cheeks, she had to squint to see. It was strange—the lights were on, but the room seemed darker than it should be, as if the light were filtering through a haze. It felt oddly cold, too, and she pulled her jacket back on with a shiver.

Back out in the hall, she felt like she wasn't alone, but when she checked Edward's room again, the young blonde still wasn't around. She wasn't ready for something else to happen, especially not in her own home. She looked up and down the hall, eyes still straining against the unnatural dimness, but there wasn't anything wrong. Nothing visibly wrong, anyway; her Rooder instincts were on edge, making the hairs on her arms stand on end. Shivering again, she stepped into the empty bedroom and closed the door.

She didn't have the energy to explore the house for unseen threats, and she certainly didn't have the strength to fight if there really was something lurking about. Not only that, she was growing a little worried about Edward. She hoped he would come back while she rested here for a little while before she went searching for the source of this new malaise, and for clues to what she should do next.

The light inside the little room didn't seem hindered or strained, and her eyes soon relaxed again as she looked around. Everything looked as it had the last time she had visited—except for a scrap of paper resting on the bed near the pillow. Alyssa sat on the bed—she could practically hear her legs thanking her—and picked up the paper. As she suspected, it was another news clipping.

This time there was no mention of murder, or of Jennifer Simpson. It was a brief article about an aristocratic couple who had suddenly gone missing. Police had no leads, but friends and family had their suspicions. The couple had recently come into a great sum of money from a relative that had recently passed, and their opinion was the carefree young couple had suddenly decided to sever all ties and move abroad. This included abandoning a young boy they had only just adopted, and had since been taken in by a coworker.

The article had been cut out of the middle of the paper, so there was no headline or date. Alyssa didn't need either to know why Edward had kept it, and as she set it down on the nightstand something that hadn't occurred to her before suddenly clicked in her mind. With her eyes on the door, Alyssa folded her hands in her lap and waited for Edward to appear. As the minutes ticked by, Alyssa felt her eyelids droop heavier and heavier, until she was fighting to keep them open. To say nothing of keeping her head up; as she battled to keep it up off her chest, she was beginning to worry she would lose her balance and tumble clear off the bed if she didn't lay down and rest already.

Just for a minute, Alyssa told herself as she rested her head on the pillow. Her eyes closed and colors flashed and pooled behind her lids. The colors kept twisting and melding together, until she saw glimpses of faces. The faces that had chased her through the darkness; Morris and his hammer, Haigh and his mask and maniacal laugh. Amidst them she saw a shadow that was the face she had seen in the dining room, his smile shining evilly from beneath his hat.

Alyssa heard laughter, though the smile didn't move. "Soon," a deep voice whispered from somewhere close to her.

She bolted up with a gasp. Heart pounding, her eyes darted around the small room to make sure she was still alone.

She wasn't. The chair next to the bookcase was occupied by a young blonde with a book propped on his knee. She must have made a sound of surprise, because Edward looked up from the page, one eyebrow cocked. "Well, hello to you too, sleepyhead."

Alyssa laughed a little as she patted her thundering heart. "Sorry. I didn't hear you come in."

Edward lowered his eyes to his book again. "Not surprising," he said as he turned a page. "When I got here you looked like you were getting ready to enter coma territory."

Blinking in surprise, Alyssa stretched out her stiff limbs, making her joints pop. She could have sworn she had only closed her eyes for a moment. Although she did feel worlds better now. "Was I asleep long?" she wondered as she combed her fingers through her tangled hair.

The slender boy shrugged, not taking his eyes away from his book. "Not sure. I think I came in a half hour ago, but I wasn't really watching the clock. Not that I can," he added wryly.

As he spoke, his eyes flicked briefly to a shelf on the bookcase. Alyssa looked, too, and saw a boxy alarm clock being used to prop up the small stack of books. It was digital and ran on batteries. The face was lit up, but the numbers were an unreadable jumble, like someone was holding down the reset button.

Perched pensively on the edge of the bed, Alyssa closed her eyes and felt around the room with her senses. The small space was quiet and warm, the most peaceful space she had been in since she came home. But there was still that lingering feeling that something just wasn't 'right'. The feeling grew worse as she pushed her senses out of the room and into the hall, where the air was cold and the lights strained behind some invisible shield.

She opened her eyes again. "Edward," she began quietly, not sure she should voice her thoughts. "Have you noticed anything...strange going on in this house?"

When Edward didn't reply, Alyssa stole a glance at him; he had closed his book and was tapping the spine against his chin. "Well, that depends. If by 'strange' you are referring to the fact the phones don't work, anything electrical has gone haywire, you can't hear the sounds of birds or traffic or anything else from outside even if you open a window, and the fact that everyone who lives here up and vanished all at once..."

He set the book down and looked at her, his face grimly serious. "Yes, Miss Hamilton. I think something strange is going on in this house."

Alyssa nodded somberly, but inside she was sighing with relief. At least it's not all in my head...

"Can you remember when things started to seem odd?" she asked, though even before the question had formed in her mind, she knew she had the answer.

Edward continued to look grim as he got to his feet. "I sure can. It was right after that guy in the coat showed up. Coincidence? I think not."

Alyssa nodded again, eyes unseeing as she thought back to her own meeting with the man in black. Deep down, she had somehow known he was involved in all of this. She just didn't know how—yet.

"Thank you for letting me borrow your, um, bed," she said as she pushed herself to her feet. Her legs protested a little at having her full weight put back on them, but they held. "Hang on a minute," said Edward with a stern frown.

Alyssa paused in the doorway. "Yes?" she asked, frowning a puzzled frown in return.

Edward held her gaze for several seconds more before his face broke out in a mischievous grin. "You promised me a full report, remember?"

"Oh." Alyssa felt a smile spread across her own face. "Right."

As she turned away from the doorway, her skirt brushed the nightstand, making the forgotten news article flutter to the floor. Alyssa bent to retrieve it, and when she straightened again Edward's grin had been replaced with a curious look. The look grew as he watched Alyssa reread the article to herself before meeting his gaze again. "This is you, isn't," she said, her voice coming out as a statement instead of a question. "You're the boy they left behind."

Edward gave a shrug and slid his long hands into his jacket pockets. "It's like I told you when we met: I've been bounced from orphanage to foster home and back again for most of my life. I still need a roof over my head, but at my age I'm officially done with surrogate families."

He gave another shrug, as if dismissing the subject. Alyssa absently wet her lips as she thought about how to voice what was on her mind. She was positive she was correct about the connection she had made earlier—a part of his past he had failed to mention—but she wasn't sure how to bring it up. "That other boy was you, too," she finally blurted, fidgeting with the hem of her skirt.

Edward's smooth brow furrowed a little as he narrowed his eyes slightly. "Which boy?"

Alyssa passed her gaze over the floor at their feet, where the newspaper clippings had been spread earlier that day. "The one who escaped from that mansion. With Jennifer."

When she looked at him again, his expression had smoothed. He turned away, nonchalant, and sat down in the chair again. "Yes, that was me, too. The only other who survived the horrors of Barrows Mansion—but in the end I was the only one to survive, period, wasn't I."

He spoke casually, but Alyssa could tell by the look in his half-closed eyes that he was sad that Jennifer wasn't with him. Sad and lonely.

But that wasn't why she sat down and eagerly began telling him about her time in West Sussex. She told him all about John Haigh, the Acid Bath Murderer, and about Albert and Dorothy Rand and how he had continued to torment them. Omitting nothing, she talked about how she had run from Haigh's relentless pursuit, about how she had figured out that the Subordinates needed her for something—even about the ghostly vision of her mother in the courtyard.

She told him everything because she knew he understood. He knew firsthand what it was like run and hide in the darkness, to have some malicious force breathing down his neck. By his own admission, he had already had his own taste of the supernatural. Aside from her own family, he understood what she was going through like no one else could. She felt extremely grateful that he was around for her to share everything with—and that he believed everything she told him without question, no matter how wild it sounded.

By the time she reached the part where the had somehow pinned Haigh in place, she was sitting cross-legged on the bed, her shoes discarded on the floor. Edward had moved the chair closer and was straddling it like a rider on a horse. Elbows propped on the back of the chair and chin in his hands, he listened with almost rapt attention as she described how, after giving the shawl back to Dorothy, she was somehow transported home.

"I wonder if I somehow do that myself, or if the Subordinate's power collapsing forces me back," she mused.

Edward gave an absent shrug, his eyes distant. He stared off into space a moment longer before focusing on her with a grin. "See? I said you were special. You were born for this sort of thing."

Alyssa gave a modest shrug, but she was glad her Rooder instincts were so strong. She knew she would never have gotten so far without them.

Although, she thought with a frown, she wasn't sure where to go from here. When she said so out loud, Edward promptly replied, "Your mother's out there somewhere, isn't she?"

"Yes, but..."

She didn't consider leaving the house an option. She couldn't explain it, but she didn't believe she could find her mother if she went outside to look for her. But she also believed there weren't any secrets left in the house for her to find. What she needed to find now was...

She got slowly to her feet and slid her shoes back on. "I need to go find...him," she murmured.

"Oh, you mean Mister Dark Man. Good, this weirdness is getting on my nerves."

Alyssa looked at him in surprise; there didn't seem to be much that could shake his sunny demeanor, but he again had his hands shoved in his pockets, and his grim frown had returned to his downcast face. He caught her stare when he looked up again and guessed what she was thinking. "I don't like things that I can't control," he told her, his smile tight.

Taken by an impulse that surprised her, Alyssa tossed her head and said playfully, "You can't control me."

Edward's smile grew tighter, and something flashed in his pale eyes. "Can't I?"

He stepped closer, reached up and cupped her chin in his hand. With his other he lightly pushed her hair off her forehead and slowly traced the curve of her cheek with his fingertips. As he caressed her face he slowly leaned forward, until she felt the touch of his breath. She started to open her mouth, but right then she was too busy trying to get her heart to stop fluttering so wildly to form a comprehensive sentence. Why hadn't she noticed until now just how handsome he was?

Edward seemed pleased with her tongue-tied reaction, and his blue eyes danced as he leaned closer, putting his lips near her ear. "Take me with you," he whispered.

Alyssa jerked back, her mouth hanging open. "What?"

"You heard me. I'm tired of loafing around. I want to see these Subordinates for myself."

"Are you mad?" Alyssa cried before she could stop herself.

Edward just grinned. "Probably. Definitely. Is that a yes?"

"No! Even if it were possible to take another person with me—and I don't even know that it is—it's much too dangerous. I can barely defend myself, let alone-"

"I can handle myself, Miss Hamilton," Edward cut in smoothly.

Alyssa frowned hard at him, frustrated. She wanted to believe he was just joking—badly, but still joking—but he was keeping his expression controlled and neutral...though his blue eyes danced a little.

"Maybe so, but you've never met an Entity before, Mister...Mister..."

She frowned again, brow furrowed. "What's your last name?"

The dancing eyes grew icy. He turned away. "I don't have one. There's no family out there that'll have me, and my real one has been gone so long they don't matter anymore. I've been just Edward for years, and I'll be just Edward until I die."

He laughed strangely. "Whenever that will be."

Alyssa continued to frown at his back. If he was trying to change the subject, it wasn't going to work. "You said so yourself—this is my journey. Just mine."

"Yes, but I said that before I was bored out of my mind."

Annoyed, Alyssa opened her mouth to say something else, but quickly closed it again. Edward still had his back to her, and had picked up his book and was leafing through it again. She hesitated only a second before she backed out of the room. As she moved silently down the hall and back out to the entryway, she felt a little guilty about running away without saying goodbye, but if he was determined to come with then this was for his own good.

As she moved around the stairs and stepped on to the ornate rug that decorated the tiled floor, the young boy left her mind and was forgotten; someone was standing on the landing above her, someone chuckling in a way that sent chills down her spine.

"We meet again, dearest Alyssa," the man in black said, his wide grin far more evil-looking than it had been in her dream. "At long last, we meet again."