The Dark Rising

by Lacey Weatherford

  He glanced down, noticing the ring on his finger for the first time. He pulled it off as I’d suggested and used a flame to read the inscription out loud.

  “Vance and Portia forever, huh?”

  “That’s right,” I challenged.

  “Well, apparently forever didn’t last very long for you, did it?” he said with callous indifference, though he slipped the ring back on.

  I took a step away from him, letting the tears stream freely, the hurt being more than I could stand. “You know what? You're right. You aren’t my Vance. My Vance would never be so intentionally cruel.” I turned away and began walking briskly back toward the cemetery gates, where I’d left the motorcycle.

  He caught up with me quickly, matching my pace stride for stride. He ran a hand through his hair, giving a grunt of frustration. “Listen, I’m sorry. I don’t know what's going on and I’m confused. I’m baiting you with my irritation,” he said, somewhat apologetic.

  I didn’t answer him and I kept walking, the tears still flowing.

  “Hey. Are you deaf?” he continued. “I said I was sorry if I offended you.”

  I stopped cold and turned to face him.

  “Sorry if you offended me? Really? Let me shed some light on the subject for you, Vance,” I yelled at him, my anger flaring. “I just spent the last few days, watching my husband, who I love more than anything in this world, get murdered in front of me! Then, afterward, I held his dead body in my lap while we drove back to where we were staying. I got to sit with those remains while they were shipped back from Scotland on an airplane where I had tortured dreams of how he was calling to me for help. After that, I planned his funeral and watched him get buried under a mound of dirt. Being parted that way was excruciating! Even in death I couldn’t stand to be away, so I came here tonight and found you standing at the foot of his grave.” I poked him hard in the chest.

  “Think what you want, but you are him! I've already been through hell because of you, and I don’t need you or your pompous attitude to add to it!” I turned and stormed off again, leaving him behind.

  “Wait!” he called after me. I stopped, taking a deep breath trying to calm myself.

  “What?” I turned back around.

  He eyed me nervously for a second. “Take me with you,” he said abruptly.

  “Excuse me?” I replied with an incredulous glance, not believing what I was hearing after his previous insults.

  “Take me with you,” he said again, moving a step toward me. He gazed around the cemetery, before coming back to settle on my face. “Look, I don’t have anywhere else I can go. If you’ll take me with you, I'll listen to your stories and you can show me your pictures. I’m not going to promise you anything, but I will listen.” He seemed sincere.

  My heart jumped a little at his request, but I knew there were other factors involved he might not be prepared for.

  “Our family will be there,” I told him, continuing to watch him with a wary eye. “They're going to remember you too. Do you think you'll be able to handle that?”

  He thought things over for a moment, sliding his hand into the pockets of his tux. He stared down at the ground, rubbing the dirt with the toe of his shoe.

  “Will me showing up freak them all out?” he asked after a minute of consideration.

  “Everyone except my mom is magical, they'll deal with the shock okay. But they do love you and they're going to be excited to see you,” I said with a shrug.

  He considered this before he spoke again. “I'll do my best to be civil. You have to know this is all really weird for me.”

  “I understand,” I said, taking a step back toward him. “And I’m trying to be sympathetic, but you're making it difficult for me too.”

  He acknowledged my point with a slight nod. “So what do you say to forming a truce?” The grin I loved so much spread out across his face.

  He had no idea how much I wished I could kiss him right now. My mind was swirling with more emotions than I could possibly hope to sort out, let alone process.

  “Truce … sounds good,” I agreed, nodding back at him, trying to keep my breathing even.

  He sighed deeply. “Alright then, let’s go.”

  Chapter 2

  “You ride a motorcycle?” Vance asked, with surprise in his voice when we approached the massive black beast parked at the gate. He looked at me with a whole new appreciation in his glowing eyes.

  “No,” I replied with a grin. “I drive a funky little green scooter. This is yours.” I extended his helmet to him. He took the safety gear before pondering over it, then handed it back.

  “Why don’t you use it?” he offered politely.

  I shook my head. “No. You wear it. Seeing how half of the town witnessed you dead this afternoon, I think it would be in your best interest if you covered your face.”

  “Ah,” he replied, nodding in agreement. “That might be the smart thing to do.”

  “Would you like your jacket too?” I asked, moving to shrug out of it.

  “No. You keep it,” he said reaching out to stop me.

  My breath caught at the familiar gesture and I watched as his eyes wandered over the rest of me.

  “I'm assuming most of what you're wearing this evening belonged to me?” He gave me a slight smile.

  I gazed down at the baggy shirt and sweat pants, nodding in reply.

  “These were your pajamas.” I smoothed my hand over them reverently, like they were made of silk. “I wanted to feel close to you so I put them on,” I explained.

  “So, I’m a t-shirt and sweats kind of guy?” he asked, giving a quirked eyebrow.

  “Not all the time,” I answered with a small smile. “You've only ever worn sweats to bed, sometimes without a shirt, sometimes just boxers. During the daytime you're mostly a t-shirt and jeans kind of guy.”

  “Anything else I should know about myself?” He looked truly curious.

  “Well, let’s see. You built this motorcycle yourself because you like to work with your hands, and you’re a multi-millionaire.” I watched for his reaction.

  “Oh! I have money! That’s a nice revelation,” he replied after a moment of surprise crossed his face. “That isn’t why you married me, is it?” he added, scrutinizing me.

  I rolled my eyes at him. “No! And for your information you inherited most of the money since we’ve been married. Get on the bike!” I ordered him, still shaking my head at his comment.

  “Can I drive?” he asked me, catching me by surprise.

  “Do you feel comfortable doing that?” I secretly wondered if he remembered how.

  He gave a shrug. “I won’t know until I try, will I?”

  I stepped aside. “Be my guest.” I gestured, and he climbed onto the seat. “Hey, there's one more thing I should tell you before we go.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Your mom's staying at our house,” I said, watching his face. He stared over the handlebars glancing up toward the night sky.

  “My mom,” he rolled the words out slowly, before he shook his head. “Sorry. I’m drawing a blank.”

  “You died trying to save her life. It’s been really hard on her. I just thought you might want to be a little lenient with her when you meet.”

  He contemplated this. “I’ll try,” he finally replied.

  “Also, would you mind if I do one more thing before we go back?”

  “Depends on what it is,” he responded, and he eyed me warily.

  “I don’t know if you’re aware, but your eyes are glowing red. This is something that happened quite frequently before and I used to be able to help you.”

  “My eyes are red?” He dipped his head over to peer into one of the mirrors on the handlebar. “Oh, wow!” He lifted a hand to his face, examining his reflection. “What's causing that?”

  “You suffered a partial demon conversion in the past. This is a side effect left over from it.” I hope, I added to myself, knowing he might be more demon than we'd ever
originally thought. My memories flitted over the last frightening moments of his life in Scotland.

  “A demon conversion? That doesn't sound good. What do you do to fix it?” he asked, flicking his gaze back to me.

  “I just need you to let me place my hands on either side of your head, near the temples.”

  “Go for it,” he agreed. I found myself trembling when I reached to touch him, as if it were for the first time all over again.

  I placed my hands on his face, wondering if he felt my tremors while I released the healing white light into him. I noticed the powers moved through me much easier, and stronger, than before.

  The redness still seemed harder to remove though, but it soon started to dim and the clear blue shade, which I loved so much, returned. I let the magic flow a bit longer, this time concentrating on sending it through his brain, hoping desperately it might awaken some sort of memory for him.

  As I did, I saw his thoughts were completely unfettered toward me, and I couldn’t help myself as I listened to what was inside.

  He told the truth. He had no idea who he was, not even showing a connection to his own name. He didn’t seem to be aware I was in his mind, but I could tell he was frustrated, even though he tried to hold it in.

  I removed my hands, letting them fall back to my sides. “All better,” I said, taking a step away from him.

  He leaned over to look in the mirror once again. “Hey! I have blue eyes!” he exclaimed. “How’d you do that?”

  “I'm a healer witch,” I replied, watching him curiously. “Vance, do you even recognize yourself?”

  He slowly shook his head as he continued to stare. “I’ve no memory of this face prior to seeing it here. I have to say I’m a little relieved to find out I’m a pretty decent looking guy though.” He chuckled. “What do you think?” he asked, almost sounding self-conscious.

  “Well, I might be a bit biased.” I smiled at him. “But I happen to think your face is the most handsome I've ever seen.”

  “Really?” He leaned over to examine himself again. “You aren’t just saying that to spare my feelings, are you?”

  “Well, I can probably name about two hundred or more girls at school who used to think so too,” I replied with a quiet laugh.

  “Good to know.” He grinned slightly before he sat up straight again, picking his helmet back up and putting it on.

  I observed while his agile physique moved in the exact same routine he used to do when he would start his motorcycle. His conscious mind might not be remembering things, but his body was talking the old familiar language. It gave me hope he was still in there somewhere, just waiting to wake up.

  He jump started the engine and turned to me. “You coming?” he asked, holding out a hand.

  I climbed on, placing my feet on the pegs next to his. I wrapped my arms around his waist, laying my head against his back.

  He stiffened awkwardly at the familiarity and I reluctantly loosened my hold on him slightly, sliding backward.

  “No.” He placed one of his hands over the top of mine. “Don’t move away. You’re fine.”

  I didn’t argue, choosing to accept the invitation, and scooted as close as I could get to him. I was going to take absolute advantage of every second he ever gave me from this moment forward.

  He turned the bike and drove with ease out of the cemetery, continuing up the lane until we reached the main road. I waited to see what he would do. He sat there for a moment before he hollered back to me.

  “I need directions to your house.”

  I sighed, hoping he'd have known instinctively. I told him the way to go and he sped off down the highway.

  The garage door was still open when we arrived back, and we pulled inside. Vance reached down and turned off the engine.

  “So this must be your afore mentioned scooter.” He laughed when he saw it, while removing his helmet.

  “That would be it.” I smiled as I got off the motorcycle. “Isn’t it fashionable?” I rolled my eyes, knowing he most likely had no idea what was in style or not.

  “I wouldn’t worry about it.” He smile and his gaze raked over me. “I think you've proven you can wear anything and make it look good.”

  My face blanched at his words, since they were almost verbatim to something he'd said to me once before.

  “You okay?” he asked, taking in my paled expression.

  “I’m fine,” I replied, waving him off. I knew it was stupid of me to hope he had spoken it on purpose.

  He climbed off the bike, glancing over to the door which led into the house. “So how do you want to do this?” he asked me, suddenly appearing nervous. “Do I just walk in, or do you need to go and prepare them or something?”

  “Well, under normal circumstances I'd say let me prepare them, but, in this case, they'd probably think I'd gone completely insane. Let’s make a grand entrance, shall we?” I extended my hand naturally, only to second guess myself. To my surprise, he reached out and grabbed it.

  “I’m a little nervous,” he admitted.

  “That's totally understandable,” I said, feeling my own heart fluttering. “I am too. Are you ready?”

  “Let’s do this.” He gave my hand a familiar squeeze.

  We walked into the kitchen from the garage, closing the exterior bay door as we passed and it made a loud a noise behind us.

  “Portia, is that you?” I heard my dad’s voice call out from somewhere in the house.

  “Yes.”

  “We’re in the family room, Pumpkin,” he replied.

  Taking a deep breath, I led Vance by the hand through the kitchen and into the family room. Both of my parents, Grandma, and Krista were sitting together, quietly visiting in front of the television.

  “Hi,” I said, and all of them turned to look at me.

  There was a moment of shock before everyone reacted, jumping up with exclamations on their lips. Then as if they were all puppets on the same string, they started rushing toward us.

  “Wait!” I called out, signaling to stop with my hand, and I was amazed they actually complied.

  “Yes, Vance is alive.” I stared into their disbelieving faces—some with tears starting to stream down them. “But, he doesn’t remember any of us.”

  The four of them exchanged puzzled glances amongst themselves.

  “What do you mean?” Dad asked, stepping forward.

  “I mean, I found him standing at the foot of his grave when I went to the cemetery. He didn’t recognize me or himself. He can't recall anything from his previous life, though he has all of his necessary motor and verbal skills.”

  I looked up at Vance and squeezed his hand.

  “Portia tells me you're part of my family,” he said politely, looking at them before glancing down at me. “We had quite the discussion about family, marriage, magic, and a few other things.” He tightened his grip on me before turning back to the others. “She's shown me things impossible to deny. While I believe everything she's telling me, I’m sorry, but I have no memory of anything.” He gave a heavy sigh.

  “But … you're here!” Krista said stepping with her arms stretched toward him, her face glowing.

  “Vance, this is your mom, Krista,” I said, giving him a slight nudge.

  Vance let go of my hand and moved forward, allowing Krista to hug him. He seemed slightly uncomfortable as he patted her, before stepping away to stand closer to me.

  “Portia tells me I died while trying to save your life. I’m glad to see that was successful.” He inclined a nod, seeming a bit formal.

  “Yes. Thank you,” she replied, staring at him as if she had won the lottery, her eyes never leaving his face.

  There was an awkward pause while everyone tried to figure out what to say to someone they knew and loved who couldn’t remember them.

  I spoke up again, filling the silence. “Just so you're aware, Vance’s powers are at full capacity—and then some. It's obvious he's here directly as a result of receiving the Awakening.
I'm assuming it must have kept working to complete the change, even though he didn’t survive the battle.”

  “So what does that make me exactly?” Vance asked. “Resurrected … reincarnated?”

  “I think you're a little closer to resurrection,” I replied. “Though it doesn’t mean we won’t both be eligible for death again someday.”

  “I can see this is going to be confusing,” he smiled, and I heard Krista gasp softly at the sight, her hand sliding up over her heart. I understood exactly how she felt.

  “This is so unreal,” my dad said, ruffling his fingers through his hair. “I can’t believe you're really here.” We stood still for several seconds as the shock for everyone continued to settle in.

  “You all need to remember he's not the Vance we've known. He made that very clear. I think we should try to wipe the slate clean and treat him like someone we’ve just met, if we can.” The words left a sour taste in my mouth. “Who knows if he will ever regain his memory?”

  “You’re absolutely right,” Grandma said, jumping to attention. “Vance, I'm Milly Mullins. I'm Portia’s grandmother. This is my son Sean and his wife Stacey.” She extended her hand toward him.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” Vance replied, shaking politely. He turned and did the same with my parents.

  “Welcome to our home.” Mom smiled. “Would you like to freshen up?” she asked, her eyes moving over him taking in his dirt covered tuxedo.

  “Sure. That sounds great.”

  “I’ll take him up to my room. I have some of his things and he can shower in my bathroom, if that's okay with him,” I added, worried I might be making him uncomfortable.

  “That’s fine with me,” he answered with a slight shrug.

  “Okay then. Follow me.”

  Vance gave a slight nod to the others before turning away to trail after me. I could feel their stares on our backs as they watched us walk up the stairs.

  When we entered my room, I pushed the door shut behind him and turned to face him. “Are you doing okay?”

  “I’m fine,” he said, looking absently around the space. “It wasn’t too brutal.”

  “You can change through that door.” I pointed him in the right direction before I reached down to pull open his old drawer. “And here are some of your clothes.”