Death Before Daylight by Shannon A. Thompson Page A

weakness because protecting
you guarantees the Light’s life,” he continued, taking another step
toward me. With every step, the energy grew deeper. The gravity
became heavier. “That’s why he is weak. That’s why he doesn’t
deserve to live.”
    Darthon’s hand grazed my arm, and I slapped
him away. Hot air sizzled down my throat. “This isn’t about Eric,”
I said, but couldn’t step away. “The Dark deserves to live.”
    His lip stretched up one of his cheeks. “If I
live, the Dark can live through you. You’ll be a shade, then.” When
Eric dies. “Or you can let me die and wait for them to kill you
afterward.”
    I didn’t understand what he was saying. I
only stared at him as his expression slipped into one I had never
seen before. His bottom lip trembled for a moment, but it froze as
if it never had, and then, he was in front of me. His hand grazed
my cheek. It was only then that I realized what happened. I had
slid to the floor.
    “You’ll be all right,” he said, his touch
pulling away from my face. “You’ll be able to handle the truth with
my help. We’ll even give you a Name.” A real Name, something the
Dark never gave me.
    His words were as warm as my shower had been.
They moved over me as if they had cleansed a disease deep inside of
me. But I didn’t want it. I didn’t want to feel the Light energy
inside of me, but it was there—and it was inviting me to dive
deeper.
    I closed my eyes to stare at my memories, to
remind myself of Eric by the river, to feel the first kiss we
shared, to believe in the Dark and only in the Dark. As the Dark
cloud consumed me, the Light popped and strained against my
insides. I collected it and forced it out.
    It shattered across the floor, and the marble
cracked in half.
    Darthon didn’t flinch. He only sat next to
me, placing his hand on my back as I wheezed. I couldn’t even push
him away. My energy was gone.
    “It’s only going to hurt you more if you keep
fighting it,” he said, knowing exactly what I had done. I rejected
the Light energy. “Shades can’t survive in here. The only reason
you can is because you’re one of us. Once you accept it, you’ll be
better—”
    “Don’t touch me.”
    He moved away, but he didn’t move far. He
maneuvered his way in front of me, facing me so that our toes
pressed together. It reminded me of how Eric helped me stretch in
the training room.
    I stared at his feet like I could pretend I
was back in the Dark’s shelter—like I could forget the reality in
front of me, like I could force Darthon’s words out of me—and then,
I looked at his face.
    It was rounder than I originally thought, but
his sharp cheekbones created an illusion of age. He had a widow’s
peak and a scar on his brow. When his eyes widened, his face tilted
to one side while his smile moved to the other. If Pierce had
similarities with his human form, maybe Darthon did, too. Maybe we
all did.
    “What are you looking for, Jess?” he asked,
but didn’t try to hide his face. He wanted me to see it. But I
heard it. He called me Jess. Not Jessie. Not Jessica. Not an
assortment of names someone could be called by. He knew me as
Jess.
    “You know me,” I said, “outside of all
this.”
    His expression didn’t change. It was neutral.
“I knew you were the third descendant for a long time,” he
admitted, “but even I didn’t want to believe it.”
    “Why not?”
    “Our weakness,” he said. “It’s the only thing
Eric and I have in common.” His toes pressed harder against mine.
“You.”
    “I’m only your weakness because I kill
you—”
    “Not entirely.”
    I yanked my feet up and hugged my knees to my
chest. Every muscle inside of me burned. I hadn’t eaten, and I had
expelled any influence the Light had on me. For once, I felt human
and weak, but I wasn’t either one if I had the willpower to believe
it.
    “You don’t love me,” I argued what he had
insinuated, but his eyebrows shot up.
    “Of course I