Darkness Falls: Jigsaw of Souls Series Book 6
Darkness Falls: Jigsaw of Souls Series Book 6
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A dark reflection stalks the night…
Vincent Donnelly has faced pain, death, and madness. His past is a haze of fractured memories. A host of restless spirits inhabited his tortured psyche once. He has inherited their powers, their magic. But all he wants is to be free of the nightmares that plague him.
Fleeing from the confines of a demonic asylum, Vincent and his allies take refuge in a remote mountain cabin. Lost, wounded, unable to access his supernatural abilities, Vincent struggles to sever the link between himself and the personification of Chaos itself.
But it is not so easy to destroy. This sinister entity has created a host body of its own… A body that looks exactly like Vincent.
Hunted by this dark replica and its monstrous creations, Vincent and his friends are forced into a bloody struggle for survival. But a powerful ally awaits—a being that could end the double's chaotic reign once and for all.
Assuming Vincent can survive long enough to find it…
Vincent drew power from the earth and within himself. He pulled necromancy and primal magic from the earth, blood magic, and TK powers from deep inside him, and he held churning, angry strands of Chaos magic at the ready.
Behind him, Coulson had already summoned forth powerful spirals of TK energy, gleaming brown and orange in the last light of the sun. He could sense nothing from Fix at all. The body that looked like his own seemed normal and human, without a hint of magic within it in any way.
Despite his appearance, Vincent knew that there was more going on. Fix was of Chaos like the demon child and Dr. Graham had been. But he was a purer kind, if purity could even describe Chaos. He was not just a being using Chaos, he was Chaos. He was the thing from the Dimensional Rift. Vincent had no doubt that defeating him would not be easy. But Vincent had mastered five kinds of magic now. And, more importantly, he could manipulate them beyond Chaos. He could twist them into the opposite of Chaos, into Order itself, and end whatever Fix had planned to throw at them. He would win this fight. Even if it meant killing Fix.
Vincent was kicking himself for letting things get this far. When he had first awoken in that field, Fix had been there. Just a voice with no history. No name, no idea who he was, or so he had said. Vincent had taken it for granted that they’d figure it out eventually because what choice did he have? He didn’t even know his own name or history.
As the other voices came to light in his head, Bogdan Dalca, Selena Elliot, and even Razul, Fix had always been there. He’d offered advice and companionship. He had never steered Vincent wrong or seemed untrustworthy. For a time, Vincent had been sure he was just another of the dead in the field. A victim of the ritual, just like they all had been.
The more progress Vincent had made, the clearer it had become that Fix had to be something else. By the time he’d met Coulson, there was only one soul left from the group—a demon child. Fix couldn’t have been anyone from the field. But Vincent hadn’t been ready to really address what that meant. And the idea that the ritual had actually worked, that Fix was what had been summoned, genuinely hadn’t occurred to him at all.
In Vincent’s mind, the ritual must have failed because if it had succeeded, a monster of Chaos would have consumed the whole world. Since that didn’t happen, then the ritual must have been a bust. Even Razul had thought it had failed. The Scions had thought it had failed. No one had known the truth. No one but Fix.
The idea that Fix was something evil was still hard for Vincent to grasp. He had never shown any sign that he was planning anything. Fix had never even gotten angry. He was like Vincent’s conscience through everything that had happened. But it was all just a ruse. Fix had been gathering information, observing, and learning from the inside.
“We have a choice, Fix. You made a mistake when you came here, I think,” Vincent told his doppelgänger.
Fix’s eyes widened with interest.
“You want to experience the world like a mortal. Feel things that mortals feel, live in a mortal body.”
“Yes, and I am very much enjoying it.”
Vincent glanced at Coulson. He knew the other man was ready to attack.
“But you’re just like the rest of us now.”
Coulson unleashed a spiral of TK energy, swirling it around Fix’s stolen body. The psychokinetic energy bound him as though it were steel ropes, coiling about his arms and midsection, and holding him in place. Coulson’s power was immense, and the bonds would surely have been strong enough to stop a train in motion.
Vincent unleashed strands of necromancy laced with bursts of blood magic. His own TK spirals and flows of primal magic surged forth in a rush. Chaos magic danced along with the rest, pulsing like a thing alive and grasping all the other bits of power as they crashed over Fix like waves breaking on rocks.
The rush of power was hard to control and threatened to consume Vincent as well. He needed to hit Fix with everything he had. He knew that. Destroy the mortal body, and the entity within would have nothing left to root itself to the world. Its plan would be over before it even began.
Night had fallen, and the last remnants of the sun were barely visible on the horizon beyond the trees. The forest was dark, but for Vincent, it was exploding with light and color. The flows of magic tore at Fix’s body with a blinding intensity. Instead of fighting back or even resisting, he did nothing.
Through the flares and sparks of energy, Vincent could make out Fix’s face—his own face—looking back at him. Fix smiled and laughed. He closed his eyes and seemed to savor what was happening to him. And then it all stopped.
The flow of power was wrenched from Vincent’s mind. It snapped shut like a door had been closed, and the feeling vanished in the blink of an eye. He tried to reach for it again, to grasp power, any power, once more. But there was nothing.
“This is wrong,” Fix said then. He stood as he had stood before the assault.
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