Dark Light (The Dark Light Series) (6 page)

Before I can reach the steering wheel, the figure is moving towards me.
FAST
. In an unnatural, ghostly way, it’s closing the distance between us in an extraordinarily rapid pace.
What the hell?
Is it
floating
towards me? Like frames from a horrifying strip of film, the figure advances towards me in flashes of ethereal light, each mutated frame more distorted than the last. In the split second it takes to pry my terrified eyes from the approaching shadow, I gather my bearings and hit the gas, the tires screeching against the pavement. Whatever that was, it was unlike anything I’d ever seen. Yet something about it was oddly, horrifyingly familiar.

I pull up to my house in record time, thanking God for no red traffic lights or police cars in my path. What the hell was that? Before stepping out onto the driveway, I check around and behind me, ensuring that the coast is clear. Then I book it down the stone path and up the three stairs to our front door. I feel slightly foolish as I close and lock the door behind me and sink to the floor, suddenly exhausted with fright.

“Hey, Kiddo, is that you?” Chris calls from his study. Crap. He’s waited up for me. I pick myself up off the floor and kick off my shoes.

“Yeah, Dad, sorry I’m late,” I call out, reluctantly making my way down the hall to him, passing numerous family and school photos hung on the walls. A hallway of memories. It all seems like someone else’s memories now.

Chris is at his large oak desk, only the light from his computer illuminating his handsome face. He looks tired and I know I’ve worried him with my tardiness. He looks up at me and grins, little lines crinkling at his brown eyes. I know all is forgiven. He seems melancholy and a pang of regret squeezes my chest.

“Went out after work?” he asks. I can tell he’s dancing around the real issue. The issue of my biological mother and his part in the concealment of her existence.

“Something like that,” I shrug.

He probably thinks I stayed out because I wanted to stall our conversation, and he’s partly right. We stare in silence, neither of us knowing how to broach the subject. On one hand, I want to know more about my mother, the Light, and this new world of magic that I’ve been thrust into by birth. How does Chris fit into all this? Is he supernatural too? How does he feel about all this Hocus Pocus, being the straight-laced, no-nonsense guy that he is? Only one way to find out.

“So you knew my birth mother,” I say. It’s not a question but it’s the only way I know how to get the ball rolling.

“Yes,” he replies curtly. Ok, this is going to be like pulling teeth. I make myself comfortable and plop down in the chair across from his desk.

“Did you know what she was? Right away?” 

“No, not right away. As your mother, I mean Donna, and I became more serious, it was brought to my attention.” Chris drums his fingers against the arm of his chair anxiously.

“And how did you feel about that?” 

Chris pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, contemplating the answer. Then he rubs his weary eyes. I brace myself for the worst; he must’ve hated being coerced into all this. 

“How did I feel?” He looks up at the ceiling and then returns his earnest gaze to me. “Your birth mother gave me the opportunity to meet the love of my life. And then furthermore, I was given the honor to love and protect the most beautiful, curly-haired little baby girl I had ever seen.” His solemn expression morphs into a heartwarming smile and my apprehension melts away. 

My new knowledge of my birth mother must be incredibly hard for them. Maybe they’re afraid of losing my love. And with the discovery of a birth mom, comes the discovery of a birth dad. In all my confusion, I had hardly considered their feelings. They must be just as scared as I am.

Instead of launching into the interrogation I had rehearsed in my head, I get up and walk over to Chris and wrap my arms around his broad shoulders, giving him a heartfelt squeeze. He’s been my dad my whole life and I honestly could not imagine anyone else replacing him, blood or not. I can feel him instantly relax and before either one of us becomes emotional, I release him from my embrace. 

“Goodnight, Dad,” I grin. He answers with a smile of his own and I turn on my heel as I notice his watery brown eyes. I’m not emotionally strong enough to see him unraveled.

I retreat to my disheveled bedroom and flop noisily on my bed, exhaling the day’s events. Donna’s Wiccan revelation, Dorian showing up at my job, having drinks with him after work, the eerie parking lot phantom… it’s been a helluva day. That was no crazed homeless person in the bushes outside the department store. Whatever it was moved in a way unlike anything I’ve ever seen. It was ghostlike. Alien, even. The thought chills me to my core and I shiver uncontrollably. Seeking comfort, I look at my mother’s book, resting on my nightstand. Surely whatever attempting to accost me tonight would be something she would know about. 

Before I can flip to that page where I left off, my cell phone perks to life, indicating a text message.

Unknown, 11:46 PM

-Are you ok?

I usually ignore all unknown phone calls but an unknown text? Who would have my cell phone number? I know I haven’t given it out lately. I think about hitting Delete but my curiosity gets the best of me.

-Who is this?

-Dorian.

Damn. Amazing how one name can hold so much weight and instantly make my heart jump into my throat. A big, goofy ass grin spreads across my face. Wait, how did he get my number?
Stalker alert!
Maybe Jared is right. Maybe Dorian really is a creeper. A ridiculously sexy, alluring, gorgeous creeper that I wouldn’t mind being accosted by in a dark alley. 

-Yes, why? How did you get my number?

-That is not important. You are safe?

Okay, now he’s freaking me out. Why would he think otherwise? He was long gone by the time that freaky apparition-like figure came out of the bushes. Right? I quickly text
“I’m good”
and plug my phone up to its charger, putting it on silent. 

As much as I’d like to chat with Dorian, I can’t shake the unnerving feeling that something is wrong. Whatever was out there tonight was out to get me, I’m sure of it. Not only that, there was something strangely familiar about it, though it was obviously otherworldly. Why didn’t I ever notice these things before? Never in my 20 years have I ever seen something nearly glide across a parking lot, not to mention with such incredible speed. It was mostly blurred, though I could visibly make out its eyes. Deep, vacant, icy eyes, fixed on me with violent intensity. 

I shudder and pick up the book, finding where I left off the night before. I indulge myself in Natalia’s account of her days living underground, preparing herself for her encounter with the Shadow. She was smart; it was two against one and she knew they’d have a chance to overpower her. Her plan was to have them come to her, on her grounds. No one knew the forests better than the Light, especially Dark Hunters. The Shadow would be disoriented, sitting ducks for her to take out at will. I was enraptured in her account and couldn’t wait for her to strike, putting a permanent end to her vile pursuers. My mom: bad ass, strong and cunning. She was the epitome of everything that I’ve ever wanted to be.

----------

I anticipate the Shadow’s arrival as I perch high upon the trees. I can sense them; hear their voices echo through the still night air. I crouch silently in expectance of their approach. Though it is dark, I can see them perfectly. I can see the tops of their dark, glossy hair and dark suits. I’ve heard of these two. They have a reputation for being exceptionally brutal and proficient assassins. No Enchanter or Dark Hunter has ever lived to tell their tales of carnage. They are, of course, gloriously handsome but their beauty is a lie; an accumulation of stolen souls and siphoned magic. They kill without mercy and supply their constant need for more magic to refuel. The thought infuriates me and I thirst for the vengeance of the countless lives taken to feed their greed for power. 

I wait for my chance to strike yet when I prepare to leap down, something stops me short. A force, beckoning me, calling to me. I look down only to lock eyes with an endless pool of pale blue irises. He doesn’t look angry or vicious; he looks intrigued, curious even. Virtually silent, I leap down and face him. His looks are striking, unlike anyone I’ve ever seen. I know the Dark uses hypnotism on their prey but being a Light Enchantress, I am impervious to their charms. He doesn’t flinch, nor make an aggressive move. We just stare in silence, mere yards apart. It seems like we’ve been eyeing each other for hours. We are foreign to the other. Alien. I’ve never actually been this close or this peaceful with a Dark One, not to mention the Shadow, being the pack of ruthless savages their reputation boasts. But this one is different. Peaceful. Resigned. 

The other Dark One calls out from a far distance, speaking in their native tongue, asking if he has found anything. Many Light Enchanters do not understand their language, but I have been versed in it as part of my training. A moment passes, and he responds, informing him that there is nothing. His eyes never leave mine. They are searching for something in desperation. And then just like that, he turns and flits towards his partner. And they’re gone.

I’ve never forgotten that night. Not only did my life change but the entire existence of our kind was forever altered. This was the first night I laid eyes on your father.

----------

My father
. My father was a Dark One. An assassin of the Shadow. My father was a cruel, callous Warlock who killed innocents for their magic. He manipulated people’s minds to gain wealth and power. He frequently pursued Dark Hunters, like my mother, and took pleasure in their suffering. My father was the enemy. My father was the embodiment of evil.

“
Another young woman was found dead last night in what looks to be the latest victim in the Icepick Murder case. Twenty-one year old Casey Klein, a student at Colorado Technical University, was found brutally stabbed in her vehicle outside of her dormitory. No witnesses have come forward and the killer is still at large. If you have any information, please call the…
,” the polished brunette anchorwoman reports from the small television in our kitchen. My parents and I listen intently, worry and disgust etched in our faces.

“It’s getting worse,” Donna mumbles from the stove, tending to her scrambled egg whites.

“I know,” Chris replies, solemnly.

“Can’t something be done? Innocent girls can’t keep dying!” Donna shrieks, nearly dropping the spatula.

I look up from my own breakfast. “What’s going on?” I can tell they know more about the situation than they’ve let on. Chris and Donna exchange a strained glance.

Chris sighs with reluctance and looks at me intently. “Gabi, honey, the girls’ deaths are no random act. They are being murdered by the Dark.” He gulps and waits for my reaction. This is the first time he’s admitted their existence to me.

“Why?” is all I can choke out. 

My dad pinches the bridge of his nose before exhaling. He looks to me with weary, apologetic eyes. “Because they are looking for you.” 

My blood runs cold, everything around me completely muted. I’m numb. All sense of sight and sound has been stripped away from me. The rhythm of my rapidly pounding heartbeat resonates in my head. Just its steady drumming reminds me that I am still here, still breathing. Not drowning in my own wretched trepidation. Someone is after me and they’ve left a trail of tortured, mangled girls. Whoever is out there looking for me wants my blood. They want to do to me what they’ve done to these poor innocent girls. Maybe even more.

“Gabriella, do you understand what I’m saying?” Chris asks, raising his voice a bit to get my attention. 

“Huh?” My brain has obviously turned to mush.

Donna sits down next to me and gently places her small hand on my shoulder. “They can’t find you. They can’t pick up your scent or sense what’s in you. I’ve made sure of that.” She tries to smile reassuringly, but it’s strained.

“How?” I croak.

Donna points to the wild berry smoothie sitting above my plate of cheese omelet and bacon. “The smoothies I make for you daily are a concoction of herbs that dull your scent. It’s harder for them to feel your power.” Reflexively, I reach over a take a large laborious swallow. I place the glass down with a shaky hand.

“So the smoothies keep whoever is out there from finding me but innocent girls will continue to die?” This doesn’t sit well with me at all. Dozens of women will be killed just so I can be saved? For what? How is my life any more important than theirs?

“It’s more complicated than that, sweetie. If we could, of course, we would do something. But it’s impossible to force complete strangers to ingest anything without telling them why and risk exposure. We would be slaughtered on the spot for that.” Donna pauses to let her words sink in so I understand the severity of the situation. They were sworn to secrecy to protect all of our lives. “Even if we did tell someone, no one would ever believe us. Our job is to protect you and that’s what we’re doing.”

I shake my head, trying to conjure my senses. This is all ludicrous. How can any of this be possible?

“Why are they being stabbed around the throat?” I ask, trying to bring some logic to the conversation.

“To make it appear to be a vampire attack,” Chris replies.

Oh, hell no!
“Wait a minute!” I yelp incredulously. “Did you just say…? Vampires are real? You have got to be kidding me!” I don’t know whether to be frightened or hysterical. Or a mixture of both. 

“Do you really want to know?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

I mull it over for a beat before shaking my head vehemently. “No, I don’t.” Let’s limit these revelations of the existence of mythical creatures to once a year. “So the Dark have sent someone to kill me. Why?”

“You are the first of your kind,” my dad replies. He resumes eating his eggs as if we are discussing the weather. "No one knows what you’ll become once you ascend. You could have power that surpasses anything they could have ever imagined and annihilate all of them. At least that’s what many of the Light are hoping for, anyway.”