Dark Heart Rising Part 1

Dark Heart Rising.

Lee Monroe.

For Bea, Marlon and Jesse.

PROLOGUE.

Pressed back against the dark wood panelling, I felt his lips brush my cheek. No longer cold, but warm and full, gently touching my skin. I felt myself breathe out, not wanting to feel anything, but feeling everything all at once, my head resting on his chest. I could hear his heartbeat and mine, loud and fierce ...

'I never thought I would feel this way about a mortal,' he whispered softly into my hair, and I felt the softness of his mouth as it tenderly kissed my neck. I s.h.i.+vered, hot suddenly, and instinctively my back arched.

'I don't want this,' I managed to say, my voice husky and strained. 'This isn't right.'

But as his arms moved to circle my waist I didn't push him away. Because, despite the words I had just spoken I did want this. I hated myself for wanting it, but it was consuming me. It was all there was. Right then, in that moment, it was all I wanted.

Finally he drew back and took my face in his hands, his eyes glinting in the darkness, the sharp line of his cheekbones cutting a hard but beautiful shape. And his mouth, wide and perfect, moved closer to mine, taking my breath away.

He put one finger on my lips, and with his other hand he stroked my face.

'It's OK,' he said. 'It was a mistake, but I couldn't help myself.'

'I ...' I struggled with relief, and intense disappointment.

'Shhh.' He pressed his finger more firmly against my mouth.

And then he was moving away from me, gently opening the door. He disappeared through it leaving me wide-eyed and disbelieving.

I was left alone, with the sound of my fiercely beating heart.

And the taste of betrayal in my mouth.

CHAPTER ONE.

'Have you got everything?' My mother picked up a sweater, folded ready to pack in my suitcase. 'Pa.s.sport? Underwear?' She refolded the sweater, and a shadow pa.s.sed across her face. 'You will phone-'

'Mum.' I tried to keep the exasperation out of my voice. 'I'll phone.'

'Good.' She smiled. I could see the brave face she was putting on and my heart skipped at the thought of what I was about to do.

'Grandma Ellen's got the hotel booked in Paris,' she said. 'At least you'll have someone to look after you there.'

'It'll be fun spending time with her for a few days,' I said, smiling. 'I don't think I've really done that since I was little.'

'You need a break,' said Mum. 'After everything that's happened this year ...' She paused, watching my smile fade. 'It might help you forget.'

'Yeah ...' I frowned. 'I don't know if I'll ever forget. It's not that easy.'

'I know,' she said softly, taking my hand. 'Believe me. I know.'

'And I don't know that I want to forget.' I felt my good mood finally evaporate.

'You're going to fall in love again,' she said. 'It may not feel like it now. But there are lots of people out there who you can be happy with.'

Mum was saying all the right things. And she was right. But I frowned anyway.

'Luca was special.' I swallowed. 'There won't be anyone else like him. There can't be.'

There was a silence, and I knew she was in agreement. But being a mother, she was supposed to be sensible.

'No. There won't be. That's true. But you're going to find out that being unique is not ... unique.' She squeezed my hand. 'We all are ... when you think about it.'

'Do you have a rational answer for everything?' I smiled wryly in spite of myself.

'Yep.' She placed the folded sweater neatly inside my case. 'Now you'd better get downstairs and say goodbye to your dad and Dot.'

I s.h.i.+fted off the bed and stood facing the window, taking in the treetops, the darkening sky and the sliver of moon just appearing.

I'll miss you, I whispered inside my head, my eyes p.r.i.c.king with tears. I promise I'll never forget.

'So,' said Grandma Ellen, adding sugar to her cafe au lait, 'How's your love life?'

I swallowed a mouthful of piping hot chocolate, feeling heat flood my cheeks. It was partly the boiling milk, partly Grandma's unexpected direct question.

'I don't have one.' I used the standard bullish teenager tone I used with my mother.

She nudged me gently with her elbow. 'I'm not going to go telling your mum, if that's what you're worried about.'

I shrugged, stirring the syrupy foam at the bottom of my cup. 'Really, Granny. I don't have a love life.'

'Hmm.' She drew in a breath and directed her gaze at the pelican crossing opposite our cafe. 'I'm surprised.'

'Why?'

She turned back to me, smiling. 'Have you looked in the mirror lately, Jane?'

I glanced down at my nondescript faded black T-s.h.i.+rt, lanky legs encased as ever in boyish jeans and scruffy baseball boots. Nothing special there.

'You're biased,' I told her smiling. 'And there aren't actually any boys in Bale. Not unless you count Eric and his cousin Zane.' I made a face. 'And they're ... you know ... young.'

Grandma looked amused. 'Well, what about college? You're starting soon. You're bound to meet new people. More mature people ...' She smiled. 'When I was your age I liked the older boys, too. Boys my age seemed so ... childish somehow.'

I crossed my arms over my chest. 'I'm giving boys a miss this year. I just want to concentrate on studying.'

'Right. Of course.' She raised an eyebrow then, seeing my serious expression, put down her cup. 'Your mother told me, dear a little bit about that boy you broke up with in the spring.' She put one hand on my arm. 'I guess you're not over it yet.'

I sighed, but relaxed a little. 'I'm getting there,' I said, not sure whether I really was. 'I think I just need a bit more time. Luca ... well, he's not someone you forget in a hurry.'

I stared into the middle distance. It all seemed such a weird, incredible dream. Last winter a boy I had literally been dreaming about for weeks, walked into my life. Not just any boy. In fact, if truth be told, not a boy. A wolf, who looks like a boy, who kisses like a boy, who loves like a boy. But it was so complicated. Luca lived ... well, he lived in another world, one like Earth, but purer, more controlled, where all manner of supernatural creatures lived apparently in harmony. Nissilum. But it was a world where I couldn't live. And Luca was bound by the rules there. He wasn't allowed to love me. And it was all because of an angel called Gabriel, who had loved a mortal woman. No ordinary woman either; my mother, Anna. Gabriel was part of the Celestial family, the rulers of Nissilum. As a role model, Gabriel was supposed to be impervious to such weakness. The shame of what happened between him and my mum had been his downfall. Death on Nissilum is not like it is in the mortal world. The people of Nissilum just cease to be. No illness, just fading away until ... they just disappear.

A chill went through me as I recalled the events of nearly a year before. When Gabriel's son Raphael had come to Earth, masquerading as a mortal boy called Evan, to avenge Gabriel's fate. Evan had drawn me in, fooled me into wanting him, making me confused about my feelings for Luca. But if it hadn't been for Luca, Evan would have killed my entire family. Luca and his sister Dalya had saved us all. Had I been naive to think then that everything would be OK? That Luca and I could be together? When we had returned to Nissilum, I realised that nothing had changed. If anything Luca's family were more firmly resolved than ever. And Luca had chosen them over me.

Granny's hand stayed where it was, but her fingers gave me a little squeeze, bringing me out of my sad trance. 'You're sensitive. Just like your mother,' she said softly.

I frowned. Not really wanting to be anything like my mother at that particular moment. I loved Mum, of course. But I wasn't her.

'Right then,' Grandma said briskly, getting out her purse. 'Let's try and cheer you up a little.' She tucked a ten pound note underneath her cup and saucer. 'The Pompidou first, I think. Then some shopping down the Ille de la Cite.' She winked at me. 'And I know it's getting chilly, but we can't leave Paris without having one of the glorious ice creams on the Left Bank. Your grandfather asked me to marry him over a blackberry scoop in October 1963.'

I couldn't help smiling. 'That is actually quite romantic.'

'Come on.' Grandma wrapped her scarf round her neck. 'I can't promise romance, but let's go and have some fun.'

It was evening, and after a heavy day's shopping and sightseeing, we were inside Notre Dame, which was heaving with tourists. Grandma studied the little guide, while I stared at the hordes of German students crowding around the entrance to the chapel.

'I think I might go and light a candle ...' Grandma said, frowning at the throng in front of us. 'I may be some time.' She gave me a wan smile and set off, waving her bag about imperiously. I grinned as the students parted to let the elegant older lady through. As she reached the entrance she turned to raise an eyebrow at me. 'I'll see you outside,' she mouthed.

In front of the church I settled myself on one side of the steps and, taking out my camera, looked through the photographs I'd taken over the last days. Lots of my grandmother: in a comical French beret, asleep after lunch the day we'd arrived, buying herself a Chanel handbag in the Galleries Lafayette. And there was me, in a cafe, smiling like the Mona Lisa, one hand tucked under my chin.

'You don't like the church?' A deep voice behind me made me jump.

I turned to see a tall, black-haired boy, dressed beatnik style in a close-fitting reefer jacket and striped T, skinny jeans and skinny legs. Not fair that boys have thinner legs than girls, I thought, while trying not to look as though I was looking at all.

The boy was obviously a.s.sessing whether I was simple. He bent down, crouching on his long thin legs, and spoke again.

'The church,' he said slowly, annunciating each syllable. 'You're not a believer?'

'I ... I'm not sure,' I said, equally slowly. His eyes were the darkest brown I'd ever seen. Almost black. 'I think it's a beautiful church. I just needed some air.'

The boy moved seamlessly to sit next to me.

'I am Soren,' he said, holding out a pale hand.

'Jane.' I hesitated before doing the same. His skin felt smooth and marble cold. 'Are you French?' I couldn't quite place his accent.

He smiled, and it transformed his severe features. His teeth were perfect. His eyes deep set but almond shaped.

'I am from Hungary,' he said after a pause, looking intently at me. 'But I am studying here. Art.'

He smiled again and I felt the effect more this time. My insides contracted a little. He was attractive. If I had been interested I would have said stunning.

'And you?'

'Oh, I'm just here for a few days ... with my grandmother,' I said, feeling lame. I waited for Soren to decide he'd picked the wrong girl to talk to, but he didn't move in fact he seemed to be smiling more.

'And you are English,' he said, nodding. 'I thought so. You have that air about you.'

I raised an eyebrow.

'I mean ... English girls are always the most interesting.' Though his expression was a.s.sured I thought I saw his face colouring slightly. 'I am not saying this very well.' He shook his head. 'By interesting I mean-'

'It's OK. I'll take that as a compliment.' I smiled broadly. 'Really. Interesting is good.'

'It is!' He met my smile with real warmth. 'Clever girl for knowing that.'

I overlooked the somewhat patronising comment. 'So, art. That's pretty interesting. Where are you studying?'

'At the Sorbonne,' Soren said simply. 'I am very lucky. I have a great life in Paris. It is a wonderful city.' He studied my face. 'Full of creativity ... and romance.' He grinned then, almost bashfully. 'But I am sometimes lonely. I have had to work hard at my English, and my French' he waved a hand theatrically 'it is getting there.'

'It's very good.' I found myself feeling shy under his gaze. 'I'm sure you've got lots of friends ...'

Soren shrugged. 'Not so many. I am ... what you'd say ... a "loner".' He smiled wryly. 'I am not good with the small talk.'

Well, that made two of us.

'Oh. Yeah.' I smiled down at my feet. 'Me neither.'

Heels clambering down the steps disturbed us.

'There you are.' Grandma Ellen was a little breathless. She looked curiously at Soren.

'Granny ... this is Soren,' I said, glancing at him. 'Soren, this is my grandmother.' I saw her face turn thoughtful. 'Did you light a candle?' I asked her.

My grandmother lowered herself to sit on the step next to me. 'I did. For your grandfather.' She turned to look wistfully in front of her. 'He loved it here.'

I reached out and squeezed her arm. Beside me I felt Soren s.h.i.+ft awkwardly.

'Well, it was great to meet you, Soren,' I said, turning to him. 'We'd better be going-'

'No need to go now,' Grandma cut in smoothly. 'Not you at any rate.' She beamed at Soren. 'I'm feeling a little tired ... and could do with some time alone. Why don't the two of you stay here and I'll wander back to the hotel?'

'I'm sure Soren has better things to do,' I said, embarra.s.sed.

Soren didn't hesitate. 'Nothing better, I a.s.sure you.'

I didn't look at him but I could feel his eyes on me.