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The Revelation of Light and Dark (Chronicles of the Stone Veil 1)

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When I tip my head back, Carrick scowls down at me. “What are you doing?”

I twist to peer into the darkness. “I thought I heard a woman cry out, but now I’m not sure.”

“Well, then, let’s go,” he snaps, pivoting on his chukka-booted heel.

And then it hits me… a ball of dread forming right in the middle of my stomach. It feels cold and heavy like someone filled my gut with lead. The weight causes pain and I cover my abdomen with my arms.

“Wait,” I call to Carrick as I whirl toward the alley. I take a step.

In a flash, he’s back by my side with my elbow clamped hard in his hand. “What do you think you’re doing?” he growls.

“I’m sure it was a woman I heard now,” I reply, straining to see what just can’t be seen without any light. “And… I’m feeling the dark vibe. It’s worse than usual. It has to be a Dark Fae doing something.”

“You can’t possibly know that,” he mutters. “You haven’t even seen one yet that we know of, and I haven’t been able to observe you long enough even to know if these vibes have any correlation to the actual creature.”

He has a point, but it’s not convincing enough. “Regardless, I’m sure I heard a woman cry out. We need to check it out.”

“We need to do no such thing,” he scoffs, attempting to pull me away. “It’s not our problem.”

Anger flushes through me and I jerk my hand from his grasp, quite confident the only reason I was able to do so was that he wasn’t expecting it. “You truly are shallow and self-absorbed, aren’t you?”

His lips press in a flat line, eyes turning hard. That means I hit a nerve, because otherwise, he would have brushed my disparagement off or even accepted it with pride.

“I’m going to go down there,” I say hesitantly, pointing a finger toward the dark alley.

Carrick studies me, perhaps gauging how sincere I am. But then he merely shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

And with that, he leaves me, heading up the block without even glancing back. I gape after him, astonished he won’t help and infuriatingly disgusted by his willingness to let someone possibly get hurt.

This only fuels my resolve to go down that alley and see what in the hell is happening. I turn, take a deep breath, and, within five paces, I’m swallowed by the darkness. I resist the urge to use the light on my cell phone, as the only benefit of the lack of lighting is the element of surprise.

Within just a few yards, my eyes start to adjust and while I can’t see anyone, I can make out shapes like dumpsters and piles of cardboard boxes that have been stacked for trash pickup by whatever businesses are on either side of the alley. The stench of rotted food and urine mix, creating a noxious odor.

I stick close to the left side of the alley, walking in sort of a tippy-toe, crouched kind of way. Eventually, I see something on the ground about fifteen yards away and I’m luckily able to paste myself against the side of a dumpster—which smells horrific—and peek around.

Yes, two figures. There’s one on the ground struggling while the other, much larger and clearly male person, is on top of her. The dark vibe increases, the weight in my stomach intensifies, and my anxiety skyrockets.

My brain flies through a million different scenarios—all of my training with Duane rushing to the forefront, giving me competing options to consider. The best thing I have going for me could be my voice as a high-pitched shriek for help can work wonders. But we’re down a dark alley, and I’m not sure anyone would come.

I’m quite confident I could sneak up on the man, launch, and land a front snap kick to the side of his head. It could potentially disorient him enough that I could get the woman up and on her way to safety. Of course, what I do after that, I’m not sure. I can tell by the bulk to his figure that he’s a big dude.

But so is Duane… and I’ve sparred with him countless times.

On the other hand, that was sparring. Duane had never tried to seriously hurt me.

Crap.

Without another thought whereby I might talk myself out of such an endeavor, I move around the dumpster, creeping as silently as I can toward the woman struggling and the man pinning her down. My pulse is buzzing, my chest constricted in fear, and that ball in my stomach creates more queasiness the closer I get.

When I’m nearly on them, there’s enough glow from that light another ten yards down that I can see the woman’s face, eyes filled with fear as she tries to bat the man’s hands away while he rips at her clothes.


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