Deep Within: Dark Reflections, #3

By Donna Dull

The fate of the world rests on Anderson’s shoulders.

Tormented by the loss of his father and the sudden burden it put on him, he’s struggling just to keep up. Part of him wants to be the hero, but another part wants to be a normal teen worried about silly things like girls and soccer. Torn between the girl he’s known his entire life and the beauty he must protect, he’s too busy fighting to be able to understand his heart.

When the demon becomes aware of both the girls vying for his heart, they are all swept up in a terrifying struggle. He can’t protect them both and the consequences of dividing his attention are deadly.

Tragedy strikes again and he is forced to pick up the pieces. He must rally the troops for a final battle that could cost them all everything.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Donna Dull
• Release date: Aug 10, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386600091

Book preview

Donna Dull

Table of Contents

Title Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thriteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Other Books

Copyright © 2014 by Donna Dull

Edited by Anna Gorman Coy of AGC Editing

Cover formatting by Donna Dull of Sharp Covers

Interior format by TE Formats

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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Other books by Elizabeth Sharp

Natural Selection (Forces of Nature Book One)

Second Nature (Forces of Nature Book Two)

Better Nature (Forces of Nature Book Three)

Supernova

Skin Deep (Dark Reflections Book One)

Hidden Depths (Dark Reflections Book Two)

Deep Within (Dark Reflections Book Three)

303 Red Dead Lane (with Jordan Deen and Melissa Davis)

J

ust once in my life, I wanted to fade into the crowd. To not have to be the hero, or have anyone’s life depending on me. But I was the Guardian, charged with the responsibility to fight the demons of the world. And as if that wasn’t hard enough, I somehow had to manage to get through high school. I think I preferred the demons to the kids that walk the halls of Ancient Oaks High school in Cyprus Lake, Illinois.

I shifted in the metal chair, unsure how I had gotten dragged into this. Leaving Bethany alone hadn’t been an option, since the last time she was alone a lunatic on the football team had tried to slice and dice her. The children in the circle with us didn’t want to be here—their body language ran the gambit from hostile to indifferent to meek, but they all showed signs of wanting to be anywhere else. All of them except a young girl, maybe twelve years old, with mocha colored skin and her hair in a multitude of braids. Her dark eyes lit up every time they fell on Bethany and studied me with an intelligence I wasn’t used to from a child.

As Bethany came and sat down, I noticed most of the children changing, their body language softening. Whatever this group had done to help her, it was a two way street. I was grateful for them all, since they had turned her into my Bethany.

My mom had been friends with Bethany’s mom since before we were both born. As kids, despite the multiple forced playdates, I had little interest in her. Cause, you know, cooties. But while we were both in the seventh grade, random partnering had created a bond all the forced playing hadn’t. A small grin tugged the corner of my mouth up as I remembered that fateful class.

Davis and… I muttered a prayer under my breath for Julia Ashmore, the raven-haired beauty that haunted my dreams as Mr. Bowman ran a finger down his list. He jotted the name on a piece of paper before calling out without looking up. You’re with Watson.

I groaned and slammed my book shut as I turned to look at Bethany Watson. Her brown hair fell into her face, hiding her expression, but judging by the way she stiffened I was guessing she wasn’t happy either. Sliding out of my chair, I slunk to the back of the room to the long table at the back of the room where she sat.

So, um… I muttered, unsure how to finish the thought.

Let’s just get this over with so you can get back to panting after Julia Bitchmore.

I exhaled through my nose. Loudly. It was going to be a long unit.

Mr. Bowman thumped a dissection tray on the table without glancing at us. I opened the leather wallet to retrieve our tools, and as I looked up, Bethany was poking at the limp grey frog. All the color had drained from her face, making her blue eyes even more vibrant, a feat, since they were the bluest I’d ever seen.

I can’t touch that. I don’t think she intended to whisper, just couldn’t find her voice.

I wasn’t sure if she was going to throw up or pass out, but either way I just wanted to get this awkward partnership over with. Sliding the tray closer, I forced a smile.

I’ll dissect it. You take notes.

She nodded mutely, unable to tear her eyes from the dead frog as she opened her notebook. I couldn’t help but notice the sun sticker on the cover, resisting the urge to tell her I had mine on my science notebook as well. We’d gotten them from a vending machine on one of our enforced playdates. Not that we’d been on any since her mom left last year, just walked away one day while everyone was out. I wanted to ask her if she’d heard anything, but didn’t think she would answer me if I did.

I sliced into the frog while Bethany averted her eyes, looking like she was about to be sick. Though I thought making students dissect was an archaic and barbaric idea, it didn’t bother me either. Bethany read the first task off our assignment sheet in a shaky voice, and I glanced up at her.

You gonna make it?

She nodded weakly, her mouth tight. Sorry, it’s the smell.

I inhaled deeply. How had I missed the sort of rotten pickle smell? Oh, that is vile.

She rolled her eyes with a smile, possibly the first one I’d ever seen on her. How can boys not notice things that stink?

Survival skills. I said with a grin.

Bethany laughed and tossed her hair out of her face, relaxing and leaning on the table.

We worked for several minutes, me dissecting and describing everything as she scribbled furiously in her notebook. What surprised me was it didn’t feel awkward anymore; Bethany and I had found a companionship we’d never had before.

While she handed in our notes, I cleaned up the frog and our tools. Bethany came back and sat next to me, biting her lip, and staring at me. What? I asked self-consciously, resisting the urge to touch my face to check for frog guts.

What happens now? She shrugged. Are we friends or were you just being nice to get through the project?

I blinked, looking closer at her. I had assumed that Bethany was meek and pliant, but in reality, she had a strong core, one I suspected would be wrapped in layers. I’d say we’re friends.

She gave me a radiant smile, and I wanted to pat myself on the back. I would go through hell for her, if she just smiled at me like that.

Then as your friend, I feel obligated to tell you that you have a bit of frog in your hair.

My eyes widened and I ran my fingers through my shoulder length hair rapidly, trying to dislodge the dead flesh. Bethany laughed, placing her hand on my shoulder as she reached up. Her face twisted as she grabbed the chunk of nastiness and pulled it out, stepping away. I took a deep breath, realizing it was the first since she’d touched me.

Thanks. I grinned. I think dead frog guts would hurt my image.

Bethany snorted. I think you could handle it.

We sat grinning at each other for a long moment, but her eyes dropped, and the sadness I’d come to recognize weighed on her shoulders again. Have you heard from her at all?

She shook her head, real confusion in her eyes. Who?

My brow furrowed. If it wasn’t her mom… Why are you sad all the time? I hadn’t meant to ask the question, and I was more than a little mortified when it came out of my mouth.

Bethany’s lips tightened and she turned away. I wasn’t sure she was going to answer, but she finally looked back, meeting my eyes.

Her jaw trembled a little, letting me know how hard what she was about to say was for her. A rock can bear the pressure of the waves. But though the rock stands strong, the ground underneath it washes away.

It was the most profound thing I’d heard in my thirteen years, and possible many more to come. Just remember that if the rock falls, it isn’t any weaker. And if it leans against other rocks, it’s harder to knock it down.

Bethany winked at me, flashing a mischievous grin. Are you offering to be my rock, Anderson Davis?

My mouth worked as she dissolved into giggles. Regaining my composure, I shook my head. I’m just saying maybe we can help prop each other up.

I can do that.

I blinked, trying to follow the conversation despite the fact that I’d missed a good chunk of it. A young boy with red curls spoke while staring blankly at a spot on the floor, though I struggle to wrap my brain around his words.

A bully is someone who says things about you that aren’t true, making the whole school think bad things about you. Like when Sarah Fisher said I touched her boobs, even though I didn’t. And when she told everyone it wasn’t true, it didn’t stop them calling me a rapist or attacking me all the time.

Emotion burned in my stomach like acid, but before I could fully process his words, a young girl with pale grey blue eyes and freckles across the bridge of her nose started speaking. A bully is someone who will use whatever they can against you. They just want to make other people hurt, anyway they can.

A tall thin boy with curly hair and glasses cleared his throat. Someone who likes to see you in pain. They don’t care what they use, how many people it hurts, as long as it hurts their target.

One by one, they shared their definition of a bully, most of which included small details of their own stories. Bethany had tried to explain this group to me, but it wasn’t until I began to glimpse the strength these kids showed in the face of terrible treatment that I finally got it. I gave her a warm smile, but she didn’t even seem to notice as the oldest girl in the group began to speak.

I think a bully is someone who will use whatever he can to get under someone’s skin, whether it’s racist slurs, religious attacks, whatever it takes to get a rise out of you. Her chin rose and she glared at Bethany, and I couldn’t decide if she blamed the older girl for her abuse or for getting her to share it.

Bethany wasn’t ruffled by her hostility. Did you guys know that seventy-seven percent of people admit to being bullied in school? Think about that. That means nearly eight out of every ten kids in your school has dealt with it. We’re not alone in this. And that’s what we have to remember when it seems like things can’t get any worse. She gestured toward me with an open palm. This is why I brought my friend; to illustrate the most important thing. Bullies only pick on you when you’re alone. No matter how hard it is, there is someone else at your school who is just as alone and just as scared as you. I want you to find them this week, try to be their friend, and do anything you can to get them to come to this meeting next week. If you feel up to it, bring two people, four, as many as you think would benefit. We need to stop the bullies and the only way to do that is by knowing you’re not alone.

Her fingers laced with mine, and she gave me a smile before turning to the tough cookie on her other side. And let’s all make a pact. None of you are the only one here from your school. Let’s look out for each other. Nothing will change if we don’t change it. Can you do that?

I watched as the bulk of the group nodded, but the hostile girl’s jaw just worked. I knew when she opened her mouth the only thing that would be coming out would be hateful bile.

Bethany seemed oblivious to that fact. Don’t you want someone to help you when you’re cornered in the bathroom, Willow? Maybe Destiny can help.

Willow scoffed, and as I suspected, her words were intended only to cause pain. I knew the type. I don’t need a slut to help me. Besides, she’s probably too busy banging teachers to help.

Enraged, Bethany stood and grabbed the stubborn girl’s arm, dragging her out of sight. I glanced at the girl with the braids, who must be Destiny because she had wilted on her stool.

Serena gave the upset girl’s shoulder a squeeze. It’s ok, Destiny. Willow’s just a bitch.

I shook my head. No, she’s just angry. What you guys have gone through is rough. But it made all you guys sad and scared. Willow got angry. And because she’s angry, she needs to hurt others before they hurt her.

So she’s a bully herself. Destiny’s jaw was tight. It doesn’t make it ok.

No it doesn’t. I scrubbed my hand over the stubble on my chin. If anything it makes it worse. Getting angry isn’t the answer.

A girl with frizzy curls cocked her head. Then what is?

I frowned, dropping my head and running my hands through my hair to lock at my nape. If I had the answer, this wouldn’t be my first meeting.

We chatted for a while, and I got to learn some more of their names. When Willow came back into the group, Bethany had gotten through to her. Every line of her body was softer, and when she spoke to Destiny, her apology rang true.

I’m really sorry I was such a bitch, Destiny. I know those stories aren’t really true.

Destiny hugged herself, her lips pressing into a tight line.

Willow dropped her eyes, her lips tugging down in a frown. I won’t do it again. I don’t want to be like those jerks. She jerked her chin toward the door, as if her tormentors might be standing out in the parking lot.

We have to stick together.

I smiled, repeating the remembered banter from when I wasn’t much older than them. A strong rock can only stand up against the waves so long before the ground beneath it wears away. But if other rocks are there for it to lean it, it won’t fall.

Willow rolled her eyes. Lame. But I could see a smile dancing on the corner of her lips.

"I can’t believe we’re finally going to be high schoolers!"

I shook my head, not sure I was as happy as Bethany about the simple geographical change. As a soccer player, I’d been working with the kids all summer, and didn’t see that much of a difference from eighth grade.

I hope I don’t wind up with lipstick on my forehead. Maggie clapped a palm to her pale skin, her eyes wide. She’d always been more Bethany’s friend than mine, but we got along okay.

Just don’t be scared. I tossed a handful of popcorn in my mouth, continuing with my mouth full. They’re like dogs; they can smell it.

Anderson, did you hear your mother?

I turned to the doorway, not having noticed my parents were home, let alone that they were talking to me.

Sorry, Dad. I’m coming.

He nodded before disappearing back into the kitchen.

Ooooooo, the girls chorused in unison.

Andy’s in trouble, Andy’s in trouble. Bethany’s singsong followed me as I left the room.

What’s up, Mom?

Her head rose from the stove, and she flashed me a smile. Her dark hair was impeccably curled and her trademark apricot colored lipstick was perfect as usual. Are the girls staying for dinner?

Maggie isn’t, but Bethany is. Bethany didn’t go home until she had to each night. Her dad was always working, though she swore she didn’t mind. Maggie had become quite and withdrawn lately and was always having to hurry home. When I asked her what was going on, she always got edgy and would make excuses to leave. I suspected it had something to do with her stepdad, but she refused to talk about it.

"We’re going to need another chair for dinner then. Can you go grab one out of your father’s office? It’s next to the bookshelf in the corner.

Muttering under my breath—it would have been just as easy for my dad to grab the chair as it was for him to fetch me—I headed down the hallway to the office. I found the chair exactly where Mom said it would be, but as I grabbed it, something fell off the bookshelf, clattering noisily before disappearing underneath Dad’s desk. Cursing, I set the chair down and dropped down on all fours, searching for whatever had fallen. I was about to give up when a glint of light off something metal caught my eye. Scooting closer, I reached for what I could now make out as an antique music box. I wasn’t surprised, since my parents were often bringing antiques home, though I never saw them again afterwards. As my hand neared the object, a strange feeling washed over me. It was like diving into pond; the top was slimy and left me feeling dirty, but beyond that, closer to the music box felt so good. Even as the slime made my stomach churn, I yearned for the euphoria, stretching further to grab the tiny golden box.

What are you doing down there?

I sat up so fast my head slammed into the underside of the desk. Clapping my hand to it, I met my dad’s angry eyes.

I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to knock it off. It fell and I was just trying to get it back.

Dad knelt in front of me, his hands on my shoulders as he