Dark Light (The Dark Light Series)

by S. L. Jennings

  “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 somethi
ng 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.

  Chapter Five

  “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.”

  “Ascend? Like get my power? When? And how do they know I’ll even have any? I don’t feel like I do.” I look down at my now cold breakfast and pick up a piece of bacon to nibble. I don’t even taste it. I just have to keep myself busy before I have a nervous breakdown.

  “When you turn 21. There is no doubt that you’ll be powerful, considering who your parents were,” says Donna. The reminder of my wicked Warlock bio dad causes a shiver to run down my spine. “However, no one knows what type of magic you’ll have.”

  “You mean no one knows if I’ll be good or evil,” I whisper.

  “We know you’re anything but evil, sweetie. And you could very well put an end to all of the fighting. Your mother, Natalia, had hoped for that. She wanted there to be peace among the Light and the Dark and wanted you to be that bridge. But it had never been done before. Ever. People fear what they don’t understand.” Donna places her hand over mine in reassurance.

  “But does anyone even have a clue what I’ll become? What if I’m some crazed psychopath or something? Can’t I just opt out of this ascension?”

  “It doesn’t work that way, honey. You are what you are. And that is a very special, very unique young woman,” says Donna. For someone who has no idea what will happen in another 12 months, she’s oddly optimistic. That’s even if I make it to my 21st birthday being that there’s someone trying to kill me. Oh yeah, that.

  “For now, just focus on keeping yourself safe and out of harm’s way,” adds my dad as if he can read my anxiety. “The herbs will work on concealing your identity. Just be smart and no risky behavior, okay, Kiddo?”

  “Right,” I reply flatly. Demented Warlock out to kill me. No big deal. They must be pretty damn confident in Donna’s concoction. “I’ve gotta get ready for work.”

  I rise and walk over to the trash to scrape my leftover food, and then place my dish into the sink. Once I’ve retreated to my room, I mindlessly get my clothes ready for work, deciding on soft cowl-neck cream sweater, fitted jeans, and brown riding boots. It’s dressier than my usual jeans and t-shirt work attire but I need a pick me up after the news of my potential attacker. I put in some stud earrings and leave my long tresses down in soft waves. I smile at myself in the mirror and think I feel pretty. Not that I think I’m ugly. Just not very glamorous, especially next to Morgan. Morgan! I pick up my cell phone and call her, knowing she’ll be agitated with my brief text last night. Did I even get a chance to send it?

  Shoot, her voicemail. “Hey, Morg, sorry bout last night. Crazy shit. But I do have something quite interesting to report!” Not only do my cheeks heat at the thought of Dorian, but my heart instantly beats into overtime. “Heading to work now. Call me later?”

  I grab my purse and my favorite brown leather jacket just in case it’s cold after I get off. Before stepping outside, I check to make sure there’s no one out there waiting for me. It’s a beautiful day, the warm sunl
ight kissing my cheeks with Vitamin D. I smile up at the sky and my trepidation instantly vanishes. One of the perks of Colorado’s high altitude is the sun always feels closer and brighter. There’s a chill in the air but I’m comfortable in my light sweater. I pop in my favorite John Mayer cd and blast it all the way to Chapel Hills mall. It’s going to be a good day, I can feel it. I’ve at least earned it.

  No matter how hard I try, I just can’t get motivated at work. I want to be out enjoying this beautiful Saturday just like everyone else, not wasting away selling overpriced denim to bratty teenagers with Daddy’s credit card. As I’m retrieving about 10 articles of clothing that some pesky kid has tried on and left in the dressing room, I feel my cell vibrate in my back pocket, indicating a text message. I begin to rehang the apparel on their appropriate racks then pull out my phone once I’m masked by the shroud of the jeans display. I suspect it’s Morgan but to my surprise it’s Dorian. My heart beats furiously and my breathing becomes ragged as if I’ve just run the length of the entire mall complex.

  Dorian, 1:17 P.M.

  -I want to see you.

  God, it’s amazing the feelings this man can evoke with just a sentence. I think about delaying my response in an attempt to not seem too eager, but to hell with playing coy.

  -I’m working :(

  There. If he really wants to see me, maybe he’ll suggest meeting up later after work like the night before. At least that’s what I’m hoping.

  “Hey, Gabi, there you are!”

  Holy shit! My disturbingly cheerful supervisor pops up out of nowhere and scares the crap out of me, causing me to drop my phone and the pair of jeans draped over my arm. “Oh my God, Felicia, you scared me!” I clutch my chest in a cheesy soap opera fashion and scramble to pick up my phone and the jeans. “What’s up?”

  “Oops! Sorry!” she smiles. This bitch is way too perky. It’s like she’s hooked up to a caffeine IV. “Hey, I am so, so, so sorry to do this but I’ve got to start cutting back a little on shifts. I think something is going on with the company but we’ll just keep that hush, hush!” She winks over exaggeratedly. “Would you be too upset if I let you go home early today?” She gives her best puppy dog look and even goes as far as jutting her bottom lip out. Gag.