A Toiling Darkness by Jaliza Burwell Page B

go. I let mine go and I regret it every
day.
    Mother Moon was a wise woman. I met her when
I was known as Nyx, Greek goddess of the night. Yeah, they turned
me into a goddess at one point. We met in my pre-Akhlys days. I was
okay back then, still believed in humans and kindness and all those
sappy emotions. She grounded me, kept me sane. I just couldn’t
believe in what she told me half the time. Finding someone meant
for me just wasn’t possible. There was no one out there meant for
me. No one.
    Kalen tried to shrug and stopped himself.
Instead, he raised his free hand and grabbed one of my blonde
curls, rubbing it between his thumb and index finger. My heart
jumped a couple of beats in response to his tender touch.
    “What do you really look like?” he asked,
his words slurring. His body was going into a coma-like sleep to
allow everything to heal. In a few more moments he was going to be
out like a light for at least a couple of hours.
    “You’ll probably never find out,” I replied.
Not if I could prevent it.
    When I went to step away, his arm shot out
and he grabbed mine too tightly. It was going to leave a bruise
against my pale skin. I yanked, but he held on firmly. I glanced at
him, wondering what he was thinking about. His eyes were closed,
but he whispered, “Who are you, Darkness?”
    “No one,” I replied simply and managed to
get loose. I moved him carefully until he was on his back,
stretched out as best as I could get him. It was a small couch
after all. His long legs had to dangle off the edge and his head
leaned against the armrest on the other side. It would have to do.
I took the afghan off of my bed, and covered him.
    Look at me, tucking a slauve into bed. Made
me wonder what El would say. He would definitely smile, maybe even
pat me on the back, and then reward me by sending me out to do his
damn errands.
    I stared down at Kalen. He was a mystery to
me. Even without the orders of his master, he was filled with
justice. In right and wrong. Too bad he didn’t understand how bad I
was—what I’ve done in my past.

Chapter Eight:
    A loud thump roused me from my sleep. I
glanced over to find Kalen gone from the couch. Not bothering to
move, I closed my eyes, wishing for just another hour of sleep and
knowing it just wasn’t meant to be. Yesterday kicked my ass and I
still haven’t fully recharged. My fault, I guess. I should have
just went to bed when Kalen passed out.
    A soft swearing brought my attention to the
doorway.
    So noisy.
    Kalen stood there, trying to put on his
jacket and wincing at the movements. He looked a little tired,
tense around the edges, but better. Determination was carved in the
frown of his face and in every movement he made. He was a man on a
mission. Probably had plans to get into more trouble.
    Speaking of trouble, what has he been
doing?
    Especially if he was getting his face
pounded in to the extent of last night. I could only hope he didn’t
make it a habit, otherwise I was going to have to murder me some
bitches.
    I smiled a little. I never thought I would
use that phrase. I overheard it last week when a teen wanted to get
revenge on some ‘gals’ that beat the shit out of her friend. It was
a good phrase.
    Early morning light peeked through the
blinds of my window. After Kalen passed out last night, I wandered
the city, only returning a couple of hours ago after finding
nothing of interest out on the streets. Usually I only needed a
couple hours of sleep. Not today though. Just one more hour would
be nice, maybe two.
    Damn it all for being a light sleeper.
    When Kalen managed to get his jacket on, he
slipped out the door, closing it softly behind him and leaving me
alone in my small home. At least he was kind enough to put away the
medical kit and fold the afghan, leaving it folded on the
couch.
    I got up, feeling semi-refreshed and
stretched out as I walked over to the kitchen window. Kalen
appeared outside a moment later, pulling his jacket tight against
him