Awakening (16 page)

No.
the word resounded inside me. I wouldn’t be forced into this
corner of darkness forever. Luke was waiting for me out
there.

You won’t hold me here.
I’ll break free.
As I said the words in my
head, I felt the panic and fear start to ebb away.

Luke said fear fueled the possessing
spirit. The more scared I was the stronger it became. I had to be
brave. I had to trust that he could get me out. I could do this. I
forced myself to concentrate on the lights again. I reached out
with my mind and my being. I could do this. I would do
this.

“
You can’t. Stop fighting.
Just give in and let me stay.” Wanda’s voice sounded weaker
now.

No.
This time when the word echoed through my mind I felt myself
rise. I felt the presence shrink back. Wanda was no longer
controlling me, but as she left I felt something else
move in to take her place. Something bigger and
darker. There was no voice, no personality trying to overcome, just
desperate anger. It seeped inside me, a cold anger filling me up. I
felt as if I was drowning. I fell back into that small, empty place
again, but this time there was a light, a bright light that seemed
to be coming, not from outside, but from within. The light began to
dim, and I reached out to it. It grew brighter, and suddenly it was
like I was pulled from the dark waters, I broke the surface and
gasped in a breath of air.

I was back in my body. My head was
throbbing, my chest was pounding, but I was back in the chair. I
felt the ropes digging into my flesh. I felt a cramp in my left
leg. I let out a cry of relief and Luke was beside me.

“
Colina?” He whispered my
name and looked into my eyes.

“
It’s me,” the words came
out a sob.

He nodded his head and untied me. And
then he reached out and pulled me toward him. I was in his
arms.

I should have felt
comforted to be free--to be with him standing in his arms. I should
have felt safe, but I didn’t. Everything looked different. The
room, his face, even the air around me smelled different. It was
hard to explain. Had I truly come back? Was this really me? Or was
a part of me still in that dark corner? No, I was here. I felt his
shirt pressed against my cheek.

There was no evil cackling of the
spirit Wanda or the feeling of her presence around me. I was me.
But somehow I was not the same. And the thought terrified
me.

* * * *

I stood in the bathroom and looked at myself
in the mirror. I no longer recognized myself. Something about me
had changed. My face was my own, yet it wasn’t. What had the
rituals done to me? I studied my reflection. It was almost as
though I was seeing a shadow of another face on top of mine. A
wiped my hand over my face. No, it was me in the mirror, but
something was not the same. It was something in my eyes, in my
expression--it wasn’t just the way I looked I felt different. A
darkness now filled me. The awakening was dangerous the gypsy
healer had said. I felt as if my soul had been torn from my body
and when it had been replaced it was not put back fully. I was not
myself. I had been shattered. The world looked bleaker, greyer. And
in the place where normally there was fear I now felt anger. It
burned through me like a great flame fueling my blood. Before I had
felt powerless and helpless, but not anymore. Now I was invincible.
I was ready and willing to fight, and I felt a sudden desire to
inflict pain.

Inflict pain. The thought stopped me cold. It
was true I felt an odd desire to hurt someone, which was not in my
nature. It was true I had wanted the men who killed my family to
die. But I had never really thought about actually killing them.
Their death was more of an abstract thought. Somehow they should
die. I had been brought up as a healer, to care for people and take
away their pain. And yet, this new-found desire to see someone
cower before me, to feel their fear, was so strong I could almost
taste it.

The awakening was dangerous, the gypsy
said, and I now understood what she meant. I felt as though I stood
on a great abyss, a sea of darkness that reached before me and
within the darkness nameless, faceless voices and shadows called
out to me, enticing me to come join them.

The thought of what those men did to
my family made a swell of violence fill me. As it consumed me, the
hatred roared through my body and my blood. If I could have gotten
my hands around the necks of the men that hurt my family, I would
have strangled them with my bare hands. I would make them suffer,
like they had made my family suffer. Slit their throats and watch
the blood ooze from their gashed necks. Watch bullets tear into
their flesh. And at the thought a feeling of glee…was it glee? It
was. It filled me, and as it did I looked again at my face in the
mirror. My face was contorted in rage and hate. Violence gleamed
out of my eyes, and my hands reached toward the reflection in the
mirror. Who was this girl? It couldn’t be me. But it
was.

Darla. You must save
Darla.
The words whispered across my brain.
I had forgotten about her. My lust for vengeance had filled me in a
way it never had before and that terrified me. I was changing. I
was becoming, what? I was becoming whatever I had to in order to
survive. I turned and walked away from the mirror.

Chapter Eight

I went through Darla’s suitcase a
second time looking for something to wear. I held up a yellow top
and threw it back down on the bed. I couldn’t bring myself to put
on the cheerful color. It didn’t match my current mood. I wasn’t
even sure what that mood was. I woke up in a funk. I had finally
slept--no tossing or turning this time, but I woke with a heaviness
that seemed to fill the air around me. My brain wasn’t working at
full speed. I felt slowed down both mentally and physically,
drained by last night’s activities. I should be thankful I had
survived another one of the rituals--instead a feeling of
foreboding filled me. Cheerful clothes no longer seemed
appropriate--a darkness had touched the very essence of my being
and had changed me. I held up another brightly colored top and
realized I had the sudden desire to dress in a way that matched how
I felt inside.

I rummaged through Pagan’s closet
since she wasn’t around to protest, and hit pay dirt. I shimmied
into a tight black dress that flared out around my knees and threw
on a dark grey and black striped sweater over the top of it for
warmth. A pair of black tights and black, lace up, chunky boots
finished the ensemble.

In the bathroom, I helped myself to a
drawer full of makeup. I normally didn’t bother with the stuff, but
today was a day for something different. I lined my eyes with thick
black eyeliner and opened one lipstick, and then another, until I
came across a deep purple. I took my finger and ran it over the
surface of the lipstick then leaned forward and carefully smeared
the purple over my top and bottom lip. My hand reached up and
touched the hair hanging in gentle waves to my shoulders. In
another drawer, I found a straightener, and I took my time taming
my wavy hair until it was straight and sleek. Finally satisfied, I
took a step back and gave a closer look at my image in the
mirror.

Gone was the middle class girl who’d
stepped into the magic shop days ago and in her place stood someone
who now looked more dark and dangerous. I stared at my reflection
for a long time. I had always been an optimistic person. I had
always been surrounded by happy people, but that part of me, the
part that considered the glass half full, now seemed very, very far
away.

* * * *

When I was done I made my way into the
kitchen. Luke was pouring himself a glass of orange
juice.

He slowly took in my appearance. “New
look?”

I shrugged my shoulders and tried not
to feel self-conscious. “I guess.” I opened a loaf of bread sitting
on the counter and slid two pieces into the toaster.

“
How are you feeling this
morning?” he asked.

I shrugged my shoulders again. He
looked at me waiting for an answer, and when I realized he was not
going to let it go, I finally admitted, “I don’t feel like myself.
It’s hard to explain.”

His expression changed and turned more
serious. “It happens after the rituals.”

His answer surprised me. “Did you feel
different, afterwards?”

He nodded his head. “I
did.”

“
In what way?”

“
I became…” he turned and
stared out the window a few seconds before answering, “Stronger.
Harder.”

Last night right after I had broken
free of the possession I had no longer felt the panic or fear that
had been swirling inside me. The fear that had been my constant
companion since I had watched my parents get murdered. I had felt,
for a short period of time, invincible. And it had been
exhilarating. But slowly the fear had come back. And when it did,
it wasn’t as strong, or as overpowering as before. But along with
the fear I now felt a new sense of…it was hard to put into word.
Violence? Hatred? Whatever it was it seemed to be at, this very
minute, coursing through my veins and warming my blood.

When I first met Luke I had sensed an
overwhelming violence that had seemed to radiate from his whole
being. Was this a product of the rituals? As I continued forward,
would I keep changing? Morphing into someone different? Before I
could voice my questions, I realized I suddenly felt very
odd.

A tingling at the base of my neck
slowly spread and radiated down my spine. The room turned cold. We
weren’t alone. I titled my head and looked over to the far corner
of the kitchen. Something was there. Something not of this
world.

I looked over at Luke and realized he
was staring at the same spot.

“
There’s a spirit. I can
feel it.”

Here was the power I had begged to
learn. The Death Arts--magic at the upmost top of the food chain. I
could now feel the spirits and, at the realization, I was shaken to
my very core.

Being possessed, having my very
essence forced into the dark recesses of oblivion, had been a
terrifying experience. I hadn’t been in control of my body.
Something else had looked out of my eyes and spoken with my vocal
cords. Something else had been inside me, and I was freaked out at
the prospect of it happening again.

I stood frozen, unable to tear my eyes
away from the corner, horrified that at any minute I would see a
rush of dark shadows coming toward me again.

“
Tell me what you see,”
Luke said, coming to my side. He put his hand on my
shoulder.

For the first time since the night in
the cemetery, I didn’t recoil at his touch. Instead, I had a strong
desire to throw myself into his arms and beg to be protected. I
didn’t want any part of the thing in the corner. Didn’t want to
deal with whatever restless soul that was lingering around the
ether sea waiting for the opportunity to jump into me again. At the
thought, I wrapped my arms around myself. But this is what I
wanted, I reminded myself. I was getting my deepest desire, and if
we were going to save Darla I had to face down my worst
fears.

I took a deep breath and tried to
focus on the corner. “I don’t see anything.”

“
You’re not looking hard
enough.”

I glanced around the kitchen. As my
eyes passed over a small mirror hanging from the wall near the
fridge, I could have sworn I saw a shadow move across its
surface.

“
By the mirror?” I
asked.

“
Yes,” Luke answered. “Now
try communicating with it.”

I shook my head and took a step back.
“But… what if… what if… it takes me over?” I forced the words out
between clenched teeth.

“
This spirit is someone
I’ve dealt with before. I promise you, he won’t hurt you. You don’t
have to be afraid. Just open yourself up and communicate with
him.”

“
How?” I asked, my hands
now trembling.

Luke’s voice was calm and reassuring.
“Reach out with your mind. Focus all your energy in the direction
of the shadow.”

A wisp of breeze, where I knew there
was none, rustled the window coverings and the room got even
colder. I could actually see my breath.

Luke was suddenly behind me, he leaned
against me and whispered in my ear, “You can do this. Trust
yourself. I’m here to help you.”

The image of darkness filled my head.
Those swirls of gray floating around me, hungry things, awful
things, that I could feel coming near me. The cackle of Wanda’s
voice inside my head. As the memories rushed in, I felt the panic
rise from the pit of my stomach.

“
Where is he now?” Luke
asked.

I took another deep breath and forced
myself to look around the room. A knock sounded at my right. I
physically jumped at the sound.

“
Steady.” Luke’s arm
encircled my waist.

Another knock this time
closer.

“
There.” I pointed across
the room by the dining room table.

“
Yes. The spirit is there.
Now make contact.”