Dark Light (The Dark Light Series)

  Of course, the Dark Ones have their own force of hunters. They are called the Shadow. The Shadow are more than just assassins; they are the law enforcement for the Dark. They, too, were in fear of exposure that could end their manipulation of humans. They had their tricks: changing their distinct appearance, downplaying their beauty, hypnotizing unsuspecting humans to do whatever they please. The defenseless mortals around them had no free-will, and were fashioned as slaves, playthings for the Dark.

  While the Warlocks have a much more structured and intricate regime, we do have rules that must be followed to conceal our identity. Those who choose to disobey those rules are punished…harshly. The rules are engrained in us from birth.

  1. Do no harm to the innocent.

  2. Conceal the identity of the Light. And all other supernatural beings.

  3. Never consort with the Dark. Ever.

  This brings me to OUR story. The story of the creation of my precious daughter, sent to us to save our kind from hatred, greed, and evil. And the story of my demise; the reason I was put to death and forced to abandon you.

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  I unconsciously let the book fall from my fingers and take a deep breath. If this is a sick joke, someone has gone an awfully long way to create such an elaborate story. But part of me knows that this is no ruse. Though every fiber within me is hoping, praying for it to be fictitious. I can’t be some… Enchanter. Or is it Enchantress? Oh my God, why am I even entertaining this garbage?

  I clench my fists until the skin over my knuckles is stretched white and translucent. I will not succumb to such idiocy and read another damn word. Picking up the journal, I turn it over in my hands before throwing it against my bedroom wall. It takes out a couple old stuffed animals before landing open-faced on the floor with a thud. There’s no way this could be real! There’s no such thing as magic! No such thing as Warlocks and Enchanters, and Sorcery! This shit is utterly ridiculous!

  And as if my anger and confusion conjured up some sleeping force within me, I began to feel the heat from my discontentment. I can feel it oozing from my pores, radiating in a fog around me. What the…? I hold my arm out in front of me and I swear there is a reddish orange mist hovering over my skin, twirling and writhing before my eyes. It’s like the feelings of doubt and turmoil are seeping right out of me into the vapor. My intoxicated haze has dissipated and I am completely abstemious. I feel so subdued, gazing into this auburn fog in awe. Seconds tick by but it feels like hours. Absolutely mystified.

  My resolve falters for just a fraction of a millisecond and the mist is gone. It has disintegrated just as fast as it manifested, as if it were…magic. I’m alone again with my uncertainty and anger. But I’m also left with something else: A new found determination to find out exactly who I am and where I came from.

  They say in order to know where you’re going, you need to know where you’ve been. Is that why I’ve been so undecided about just about EVERYTHING? School, career, even my feelings for Jared? I walk over to retrieve the rumpled book on the floor before running my fingers over the worn cover and placing it gently on my comforter.

  In these pages lie my past, and hopefully a glimpse into my future. Am I willing to take a leap of faith and believe that these supernatural beings really could exist? And as asinine as it sounds, could I actually be one too? Could there really be a secret, underground world full of magic and mayhem?

  So many questions bombard my mind and there’s only one way I can find the answers I seek. I have to keep reading. And whatever I may find, I have to accept it. Because this is me. This is my story.

  Chapter Three

  The morning light greets me with warm kisses of sunshine. I chuckle at the irony and rub my tired eyes. It feels too early but my alarm clock tells me it’s close to noon. I spent the better part of the early morning hours reading through my mother’s book until I fell asleep, sometime around 4am. I had gotten close to the end, reading about my birth mother, Natalia, and her conquests as a bad ass Dark Hunter, hunter of the enemy race of Warlocks that had tormented her kind, our kind, for years. I smile at the read memory, wishing I could’ve met her. Anyone that could single handedly lure and annihilate an evil adversary is pretty freaking awesome in my book.

  Wait a minute. So am I accepting this tale of fantasy and myth? Can I actually believe in this stuff? Do I really even have a choice? Nothing in my life has made sense and finally I have just an inkling of hope that I just didn’t fall from the sky or come down in the mouth of a stork. I have to hold onto to something but can I really instill my trust in a fairytale?

  Thankful for no classes on Fridays, I stretch and trudge out of bed, and prepare to face my next challenge: my mom, Donna. She’s got some serious explaining to do and I’ve got a shitload of questions. She had to have known all along about where I came from. Why didn’t she tell me? She must suspect that I’m in here, confused, hurt and angry with her and my dad. I have half a mind to stall and torture her with my silence. But that passive aggressive crap has never been my style. I put my big girl panties on and head to the kitchen where I know she’ll be and decide to face this head on. My birth mother, Natalia, wasn’t a punk, and neither am I. I guess the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree in that respect.

  I make my way down the hall, passing my dad’s empty study. He won’t be home until later tonight and I’m interested to get his take on my sudden revelation. He always seemed so up front with me, never treating me like a child and letting me make my own decisions. However in this case, information was withheld so I couldn’t form an opinion. I frown in disappointment.

  The kitchen is immaculately clean, as is the rest of the house, aside from my room, of course. Donna is at the sink, washing the blender she used to make my smoothie, which is sitting on the breakfast table. Suddenly our morning ritual seems tainted- a lie, like my entire life. I sit down and wait for her to acknowledge my presence. Seems like I’m not the only one who’s stalling.

  “Good morning, sweetheart,” my mom greets me sullenly as she dries her perfectly manicured hands on a dish towel. She grabs her cup of tea and sits down across from me, eyeing me thoughtfully. Maybe she’s expecting me to flip out and yell at her. Maybe I should. She fingers her blonde bob in expectation of my response.

  “Morning, Mom.” No matter what, this woman is still my mother. She raised me and deserves my respect.

  Donna instantly relaxes and gives me a rueful half-smile. “So… I’m sure you have questions. Let me start by saying that we never meant to keep secrets from you. You have to understand. We had to wait for the right time,” she explains. She takes a sip of her tea, opening the platform to me.

  “The right time? How could you determine that? I’ve been lost my whole life, not knowing where I fit in! And you could’ve rectified that! And you wait all this time to tell me I’m some kind of supernatural freak?!” I feel my blood starting to boil and remember the mystical auburn glow. I instantly will myself to calm down in fear that it will happen again and scare the living shit out of my mom. “Look, I don’t know what to think about all this. I don’t even know if it’s real. I’m just confused.”

  “Well, let’s start slowly. How much have you read?” she asks.

  “A lot,” I answer. “But not all of it. I got to the part where, um, my mom, I mean, Natalia finds out that the Shadow are after her. She goes into hiding in the woods, trying to prepare herself. You know, um uh, restoring her power. Getting stronger,” I say, clearly uneasy just uttering the words out loud. This seriously sounds like a load of bull but if I want to get some answers, I have to speak up. I take a large slug of my smoothie to wash away the reluctance.

  Donna takes a deep breath. I can tell she’s nervous. “Ok, so what do you want to know?”

  “Did you know my mother?” I ask meekly. I feel bad, referring to Natalia as my mother but that’s what she is. Or was.

  “Yes. Natalia was a great friend.” Donna takes a deep breath and looks me in the eye. “S
he saved my life.”

  “How?” I asked. Ok, I didn’t see that coming. I couldn’t imagine Donna ever being in any danger. She seems so…safe.

  “I am what people would refer to as Wiccan. What little power I do have, I was not born with. It is more of a spiritual connection to nature. I don’t practice it much now because I wanted to keep it from you. I needed to. I couldn’t draw any undue attention to you,” she explains.

  “Wait, what? So what… you’re a witch or something?” What the hell? Have I been walking around blind for the past 20 years? What else have they kept from me?

  “No, we don’t like to say witch. It’s more of a religion.” She sips her tea and looks at me. I nod for her to continue. “I was alone one night, in the woods, practicing a spell. A Dark One approached me. I had no idea who or what he was, but he was gorgeous and alluring. I was mesmerized, almost hypnotized by him. I’ll never forget his cold, menacing eyes. Sometimes they still haunt me at night.”

  Donna visibly shivers, clutching her teacup tightly in her petite hands. “I don’t remember much of what happened but the next thing I knew, I was waking up on a wet pile of leaves with Natalia crouched over me. She told me that I was momentarily entranced by the Dark One and his will was to kill me and gain my tiny measure of power. That’s what they do, you know.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “They spellbind those who hold magic and suck out their power. Killing their prey is what makes them stronger, more powerful. Plus…other benefits.” She shivers again. “The one who attacked me must’ve simply been bored to waste time on my miniscule magic. I was a mere flea to his power.”

  Donna stares down at her teacup with trepidation. I can tell the memory still unsettles her and I reach over to give her a reassuring pat on the hand to encourage her to continue.

  “Natalia stopped him as I was just seconds from dying. Then she healed me. She could’ve left me there to die in order to avoid revealing what she was but she didn’t. She was good. I owe her everything. ” I can hear the emotion in my mother’s wavering voice. I can tell she cared for her deeply and it makes me wish that I could’ve known my mother in that way.

  “So she saved you. What happened to the guy? The Warlock who tried to kill you?” I ask. I’m on the edge of my seat but I already know the answer to my question.

  Donna’s eyes darken, her breathing becoming shallow. “She killed him.”

  This must still bother her after all these years. What did he do to her? But I don’t dare ask for details, not after seeing how much the recollection of the attack still affects her. Whatever it was, it must’ve been horribly brutal. I’ve never seen Donna this shaken.

  “Then what? You all stayed in touch? Became friends?” I want to steer the conversation away from the bleak remembrance.

  “Yes, we did,” Donna perks into a smile, looking up as if she’s recalling a memory. “Since I already had the sight, the belief and acceptance of supernatural powers beyond me, my third eye was wide open since Natalia used so much of her own magic to heal me. Things became crystal clear. Everywhere I’d go, I could see power! So I could tell who had a little something extra.” She winks at me.

  “The Dark and the Light, disguised in plain sight as ordinary people- I could see them. It was amazing and frightening at the same time. All this time, thinking I was interacting with regular people, I was in the presence of great power. Power that could have killed us all in seconds.”

  She looks down and shakes her head. When she returns her gaze to me, compassion and solemnity are in her eyes. “You have no idea how much is out there. It’s so overwhelming, I couldn’t take away your childhood with knowledge of all of that. If you feel confused now, imagine how you’d digest that as a little girl. You would have never been free from worry and fear. And of course, you could potentially expose the secrets that so many have died for. They would have locked you in a mental institution. Or worse.” Worse?

  “So my mother, Natalia, she helped you. And in turn, you took me in?” I want to understand how and why Natalia had to die. And why she chose Donna and Chris to protect and care for me. “And what about Dad?”

  Donna’s eyes grow wide with question and apprehension. She’s looking everywhere but at me. “Um, what do you mean?” she stammers.

  “You know, Chris. My dad,” I say a bit more condescendingly than I intend. “Did he know her too?”

  “Oh, yes, Chris,” she exhales, a hint of relief in her voice. I take note of it and file it away for later. “He knew her. She is the one who assured me that his heart is pure. She said he was a natural protector and would never let anyone harm those that he loves. I was so untrusting and wary of people after the attack. Chris showed me how to live again.”

  There’s love in her eyes. I am relieved at the sentiment because I know that I was accepted into a real family, one built of real love. Not a constructed ruse to imitate a normal household for my sake.

  “Are there many more like me?” I ask. I gulp down the rest of my now room temperature smoothie. Ick!

  “There are supernatural beings all around us, but no… No one quite like you,” she smiles. Typical moms, always thinking their kid is special.

  “Why don’t I have any magical powers? Aren’t I part….Enchantress?” The word sounds ridiculous out loud.

  “You don’t but you will. Immense power. I don’t know what kind though.”

  Immense power? I am momentarily floored. I can’t imagine having power over anyone or anything! I can’t even control my mediocre GPA, my hopeless love life or my crappy job. Which unfortunately, I have to be at in less than an hour. I’m not ready to end this conversation, not while my mom is being so forthcoming. How can I possibly work, knowing that there are mythological creatures roaming around? Now I can understand my parents’ apprehension at telling me sooner.

  After a hot, soothing shower to wash the stench of club smoke out of my hair, I take a long look at myself in the vanity mirror. I don’t look magical. And there’s nothing enchanting about me. Almond-shaped hazel eyes stare back at me, puzzled, searching for answers.

  What am I?

  I exhale loudly and commence to combing out my long dark locks. I’m more confused about my identity than ever.

  I retreat to my room to pick out my outfit. One of the many downfalls of working at a generic retail clothing store is wearing their merchandise like walking, talking billboards. Luckily I get a pretty sizeable discount and most of the clothes are bearable. I slip on a pair of jeans, a tee, and flats. Time to blend in with the common mortals!

  Work is as dull and mundane as ever. I fetch sizes and ring up purchases in my usual robotic, yet painstakingly polite manner. By 7pm, I am in desperate need of a coffee and trot down to Starbucks during my break.

  Sitting down in a comfy chair with my favorite latte and a muffin, I pick up a magazine that someone has left behind. It’s a racy women’s magazine, the cover boasting the ‘Top 12 Oral Tricks That Will Make Your Man Melt.’ I roll my eyes and reluctantly open it up, trying to distract my mind from the day’s revelations.

  After a few minutes of mindless distraction, I suddenly get a feeling of unease. A shiver runs down my spine and the thin hair on my arms stand at attention. A gust of cold air sweeps through the shop, causing me to tremble involuntarily. And my hand…it’s tingling again. Tiny prickles like a thousand miniature icicles assault the same spot where the most beautiful lips embraced it less than 24 hours ago. I put the magazine down and go to grab my warm coffee in hopes to dispel the sudden chill. Only then do I realize that I am being watched by a familiar, mesmerizing pair of ice blue eyes.

  Dorian.

  Chapter Four

  He’s sitting across the small shop in a large leather chair, just a few yards away. Holy shit! What the hell is he doing here? As if my shocked expression was an unspoken invitation, he stands gracefully and strolls over to my table, standing directly across from me. I realize I’ve been holding my breath since I spott
ed him and will myself to let it out slowly. This man will not unravel me again!

  “Gabriella,” his silky baritone croons, looking down at my dumbfounded expression. “How lovely to see you again.” He is perfectly pleasant yet he seems indifferent.

  I haven’t muttered a single word to this man, in fear that my speech would be incomprehensible. He’s even more gorgeous now that I see him in the light, noticing that his skin tone is more olive than alabaster. His eyes literally glitter behind long dark lashes and his black hair is perfectly disheveled. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to run my fingers through his locks, to his shoulders, down his taut back… Chill out, Gabs! Enough of being star-struck; it’s time to redeem myself from the night before.

  I gather my resolve and muster every ounce of confidence within me. “Hello, Dorian,” I say coolly. There, that wasn’t so bad. “Please, sit.”

  “She speaks,” he whispers, smiling.

  Great, of course he noticed. But I don’t have time to dwell on his perception; I am rendered utterly senseless at the sight of his stunning smile. He holds it for just a beat as he takes the opposing chair then he’s back to mystery and pleasantries.

  “I was hoping I would see you again.”

  “Why?” I ask a bit too hastily, my voice sounding unnaturally high. I take a sip of my warm brew in an attempt to swallow my giddiness.

  “I’m new here. You seem like a friendly face. Those are so very rare these days,” he replies without missing a beat. Even the most innocent of explanations sound like sexual innuendos falling from his lips, bathed in his deep voice.

  His explanation would be feeble, and frankly, creepy from any other guy but all I feel is the warm flush of my cheeks and a deep ache from below. I look down to recover and mentally chastise myself for being so easily roused.