The Dracove (The Prophecy series)

by N. L. Gervasio

  Kylie bolted upright. She opened her mouth wide, yet hardly any sound escaped; just a faint whisper of a scream. Blood curdling in the dream, but it faded into a scratchy whisper when she woke . . . then, nothing.

  She rubbed her eyes and focused on controlling her erratic breathing. She wondered what time it was and turned to the brightly glowing digital clock. The digits on the clock didn’t register through the thoughts of the nightmare clouding her mind. She didn’t usually remember her dreams, but this particular one she could never forget. He looked right at her again, but all she recalled vividly were his eyes. The woman had distinctive similarities to herself. When she was younger, she hadn’t thought much about it, but now it disturbed her greatly. Everything else was a blur. She’d always known she wasn’t the woman in the dream; she merely watched the terror unfold. But what frightened her was what happened every time after she had that very odd dream.

  Someone close to her would die.

  There was no one left, really. All her family had moved on.

  The only difference about this dream was that the dark man jumped at her, saw her. He even spoke to her. He’d never done that before.

  She eyed the clock again. It was 6:55 a.m., and she wondered why it was still dark. Perhaps some clouds rolled in. As usual, she awoke five minutes before her alarm sounded. She leaned over and turned it off before the radio had the chance to sound its alarm, sending the DJ’s morning comments through the air. She didn’t particularly care to hear them today. They were generally a sick and twisted lot.

  Chills raced up her spine from the crisp October air, covering her with goose bumps. She pulled her tall, slender body out of bed. Walking toward the French doors, she yawned and stretched, reaching as high as she could. Her windows offered a picturesque view of the Estrella Mountains. The warmth of the rising sun’s rays breaking through the clouds basked upon her fair skin. She admired the serene view for a silent moment.

  Her home sat atop a hill high above the majority of houses in the Ahwatukee Foothills behind South Mountain. The view was quite lovely and part of the reason she picked the lot. She’d only just moved in very recently—two weeks ago—after the final touches and walkthrough. She gazed out across the desert, admiring a falcon flying overhead and recalled the coyote song from the night before. To the east, she caught a glimpse of the red sun before it slipped behind the high clouds once more.

  Today is going to be a strange day.

  After a quick shower, she dressed and headed down the hall, where a large white ball of fur named Tobak ran into the hallway. The five-year-old wolf ran into Kylie. She slid on the tile floor, unable to grasp anything with her large paws. Apparently, wolves couldn’t walk on ceramic tile.

  “Still not used to these floors, are ya girl?” She patted Tobak’s head.” And what’s with you last night, making all that noise?”

  Tobak barked, answering the question in her own way. Kylie was certain the wolf was smiling as she followed her into the kitchen.

  As she prepared her breakfast, the phone rang twice, letting her know someone was at the front gate. Five minutes later there was a knock at the door. She expected a package from Ireland today, and when she opened the door, two men stood beside a large trunk. They looked up at her, one from his clipboard, and smiled.

  “We have a delivery for Kylie O’Rourke.”

  O’Rourke was a typical Celtic last name, a mix of Irish and Scottish, and spelled differently ages ago. Her family originated somewhere other than Ireland, although she wasn’t too clear on exactly where that was. The family name was rather common, though. No famous warriors or royalty that she knew of resided in the family tree. In fact, her family had pretty much kept to themselves over the centuries. Although, she heard her mother talking about a witch being in the family at one time, but she was very young when she heard that, so who knew if it was true or not. Moreover, who could she ask now?

  “Yes, I’ve been waiting for this.” The trunk looked very old—much older than she’d expected. She signed for it, and the men left.

  The trunk smelled like an old cellar. She opened the letter and read the inheritance papers the attorney told her about the week prior. She danced a rusted skeleton key she found in the envelope between her fingers. It wasn’t much of an inheritance, just an old trunk, but it wasn’t expected. She didn’t know anyone in her family was still alive. If she had, she would certainly have searched them out. She placed the key in the lock and turned it, half expecting the key to snap in half from the effort.

  Vibrant colors met her eyes once the trunk opened. She sifted through its belongings with care, pulling a few items out here and there—clothes, a centuries-old Irish flag, and some other trinkets. When she came upon a small wooden box covered in intricate Celtic knot carvings, she gasped. Some of the carvings looked familiar, but the box was very old yet still in good condition. A sterling silver necklace sitting in plush burgundy velvet appeared when she opened it. She picked it up and held it high. The sunlight struck the silver, making it shimmer. Hanging from the chain was a round silver locket with a design on it; a triangle of swirls—identical to the birthmark under her left breast—with a garnet embedded in its center.

  “Isn’t that strange?” She couldn’t take her eyes off the piece. It looked oddly like the one in her dream, but that couldn’t be.

  After staring at it for what felt like an eternity, she placed the necklace on the coffee table and continued going through the trunk. She ran across some old papers, photos, and a few other odds and ends.

  Her attention came back to the necklace. It didn’t look very old, but she knew it had to be, since the trunk had been sitting in someone’s cellar for God knew how long. She picked it up again and cradled it in the palm of her hand. She decided to take it with her to work and show it to Ana; she might be able to tell her more about the exquisite piece. It looked practically new to Kylie, but she was certain it was at least a hundred years old, considering some of the other items in the trunk, and the letter . . . and the dream.

  She stared at it, studying every curve and singularity. The garnet set in it was such a deep, dark red—a blood red. She’d never seen anything like it. The way it was cut and the setting, its intricate details.

  It mesmerized her.

  “God, you’re beautiful,” she said.

  Eventually noticing the time, she jumped up to get ready for work, placing the locket on the table again.

  * * * * *

  Kylie peeked through the shop window. Ana sat behind the counter, engrossed in a piece of jewelry, and twisting a lock of jet-black hair around the forefinger of her left hand. It was something she did often—twisted her hair.

  Kylie burst through the door. “Hey!”

  Ana jumped and placed her hand over her heart. “Jesus, Kylie. You scared me half to death.”

  “So if I scare you half to death twice, what happens?”

  Ana gave her the “that is so not funny” look and wrinkled her nose.

  Kylie grinned. “I see you’re not in the mood for stupid jokes. Fine, wait ‘til you see what I’ve got.”

  She reached around the back of her neck and took the necklace off, and it dangled from her fingertips. It swung back and forth in front of her friend.

  Ana gasped. “Oh. My. God. Where did you get that?” She clambered to her feet.

  “It’s part of that inheritance I received. Do you think you could tell me how old it is? Everything in that trunk is really old.”

  “Do you know anything about it?”

  “Just that it belonged to someone in my family back in Ireland. I wish I could find out where it originated.”

  Ana frowned. “I thought you didn’t have any family.”

  “Well, I’m the only one left now,” she said with a shrug. “And I still have you.”

  Ana smiled and took the necklace from her. “That’s right, you do. And you always will.” She studied the piece carefully, leaned over to pick up her jeweler’s loop, and pe
ered through it at the detail and the stone.

  “This is beautiful. It may be two or three hundred years old, possibly older.”

  “Really? Don’t fuck with me, girl.”

  “No, really, look at the detail on it. These small scrapings and scratches in the design indicate it was made by hand. I’ve rarely seen a piece like this—obviously custom and certainly very old. I’ll have to run some tests on the metal to more accurately tell its age, if you’re okay with that.” She moved closer to Kylie. “You see this symbol on it? It’s some sort of magical symbol. I know I’ve seen it before, but I’m not exactly sure which one it is.”

  “When you figure out what it means, let me know because it’s the same as my birthmark.”

  “It is?” Her brow crinkled. “Oh my God, it is. I’ll check it out for you.” She looked up from the necklace again. “How long do I have?”

  “Is a day or two enough?”

  “Thank God for the Internet. Sure I can’t have it longer?” Kylie hesitated and Ana smiled. “Guess not. Are you going next door today, or was this a special visit for me?”

  “Going next door, but you know I love you. What are you doing for lunch today?”

  “Don’t know.” Ana looked at the stone more closely. “This has to be the most incredible garnet I’ve ever seen. Why? Are you gonna be down here for a while?”

  “I’m going to paint today and I thought we could check out that new place down the street for lunch.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Great, I’ll come back when I’m finished at the studio.”

  “How ‘bout if I come over there when I get hungry? I know how you get when you start painting.”

  “Yeah, sure. I’ll talk to you at lunch.”

  * * * * *

  Kylie strolled through her studio and turned on the lights. The gallery occupied the front part of the building, where her paintings hung on light gray walls. She had a few others propped up on easels throughout the place. There were a few plants, one in each corner around the studio to give a little more life to the place, even though her paintings were quite lively.

  She walked around one of the freestanding walls and adjusted the light so it would shine down on the painting below.

  Heading to the back of the studio, she set up a large canvas and prepared the colors she thought she would need. Within moments, she threw a flurry of color on the palette. As always, she painted with an idea in mind, though she was never certain what would appear on the canvas before her. Sometimes that was how it worked.

  The dream worked its way into her thoughts. She shuddered at the thought of the menacing reverie. Everything about the dreamscape was so much more real this time. Her brush moved furiously. Images clouded her mind’s eye. She had no control over the brush as it dipped into the black and the yellow, then the red, and the red again.

  In the back of her mind, a flash of the dream appeared—his unusual eyes. She’d been looking into those eyes most of her life. There was something enigmatical about them. The brush magically placed the sapphire gems upon the canvas. She watched the brush attack with a frenzied passion. It was as though someone else was painting and she stood behind them watching it all unfold.

  This hasn’t happened in a long time. The first time was when she was a child.

  She sat on the window seat, looking out at the stars with her sketchbook on her lap. She’d had the nightmare and couldn’t get back to sleep. Then she started drawing, not looking at the paper once, but staring out at the starry night sky. The graphite dredged deep into the paper, nearly snapping the lead. Had her mother not walked in and startled her, she never would have realized what she was doing. The sketchpad and pencil fell for an eternity before they hit the floor. Each tap the pencil made on the hardwood floor echoed throughout the room and the sketchpad landed with a thud, causing her mother to jump. Kylie’s hand ached for an hour afterward. Later, when she looked to see what she’d drawn, she found the outline of a distorted face, its eyes and mouth. The mouth was what bothered her most about that drawing because of the teeth. The creature had fangs. She’d crumpled it up and threw it in the trash, never wanting to see it again.

  That state entranced her once again, but her mom wasn’t around to interrupt this time. She was only seven years old, when her grandfather passed away shortly thereafter from a violent heart attack. Thirteen years later, the nightmare appeared again and her parents were killed in a head-on collision within days after. Nerves wreaked havoc on her, and she wondered who would die next, because someone always did . . . someone close to her.

  And if she had no blood relatives still alive, then Ana was the only person left.

  Kylie looked at the canvas and gasped. The horrible creature from her dreams materialized with each brush stroke. The eyes changed. A split second later, the brush streaked across the canvas, flew out of her hand, and hit the wall near the sink, leaving a large bright red splotch next to the mirror.

  She sat back on the stool behind her and stared at the painting.

  “What in the hell is that?”

  The vision from the end of her dream. The reason she woke up. She tried not to look at the eyes for very long. Sapphire gems turned white gleaming with evil intentions. His hair was black as it always was in her dream, yet held the beginnings of changing to blonde, though she couldn’t recall it doing so in the nightmare. His hands reached forward, reaching through the canvas . . . for her.

  She put her paints down and stumbled over to her desk. She sat in the chair, covering her face with her hands, trying to stop the tremble shifting through her body.

  “I hate it when this happens.” She looked through her hands at the desk calendar, staring at the last day of the month; a day she did not look forward to.

  Kylie looked to the back of the studio, drew in a deep breath, and walked over to the painting once she’d calmed her nerves. The image was slightly blurred, just like the monster in her dream. Its eyes were a bit creepier this time with the added white. They suggested malevolence, whereas before they merely appeared enchanting. Her intuition nagged at her, but hell if she knew what it was trying to say. Even if this monster approached her, she’d never recognize him because she couldn’t remember enough detail about him.

  * * * * *

  Kylie heard the bell ring. Ana walked in and found her behind one of many canvases.

  “Hey girl, you ready for lunch?” She moved through the studio, looking for Kylie’s latest creation.

  “Yes, in a minute.” She peeked around the canvas again, her long hair falling in her face. “Just let me get cleaned up.” She pushed her hair behind her ear with the end of the brush and walked over to the sink to wash up.

  Ana stopped in front of one of the paintings. “What’s this one you’re working on? It’s . . . different.”

  Kylie looked at her strangely and saw which painting she was asking about. “Oh, it’s nothing.”

  “Looks like something to me. Kinda creepy, eh?”

  “I suppose so. I don’t think I’m done with it yet.”

  “Girl, is this one of those ‘I’ll start it and see what happens’ paintings?”

  “Pretty much.” She walked toward the front of the gallery. “Let’s go, I need a drink.”

  Ana didn’t say anything, but Kylie knew the drink was a dead giveaway that something was up. Kylie didn’t drink much, let alone so early in the day.

  “So where did you want to go for lunch?” Ana followed her out the door.

  “That new café down the street,” Kylie replied.

  Ana talked about her new client; a very handsome and wealthy man, but her words faded into background noise. Kylie’s mind was once again overcast with the dream.

  “You okay?”

  She really wasn’t, but couldn’t explain what she felt. “I’m fine. I just had this creepy dream last night. Have you ever had one of those dreams you can’t get out of your head?”

  “Yeah, but it usually has something to do
with tall, dark, and handsome taking advantage of me in more than one way.”

  Kylie rolled her eyes. “Very funny. You’ve never had a nightmare?”

  “Not since early childhood. Does this have something to do with that creepier-than-fuck painting?”

  “I think so.” Just the mere mention of the painting had a chill rolling through her.

  “What was the dream about?”

  They neared the restaurant, but Kylie didn’t say anything. She gave Ana the ‘in a minute’ look. After getting a table on the patio, Kylie told Ana everything that happened, beginning with the nightmare.

  Ana shuddered. “That is creepy.”

  Kylie nodded once and stabbed a piece of chicken with her fork. “I told you.”

  “What do you think it means?” Ana leaned forward, as if the conversation were super spy ops information.

  Kylie chuckled. “Hell, I don’t know. I just wish I could get it out of my head.”

  “Then let’s talk about something else,” Ana said.

  “Vampire movies?” Kylie smirked, waiting for . . .

  “No!”

  . . . there it was. “Okay, what then?”

  Ana stared off for a bit.

  “Smoke’s coming out of your ears.”

  Ana glared at her. “Girl, don’t make me slap that smirk off your face.”

  He watched them from outside the shop across the street, listening to their conversation intently.

  Assured they were staying put, he walked in the opposite direction, toward the one woman’s gallery. A security guard walked by, making his rounds, as he neared it. He waited patiently, standing before a shop window, pretending to look at the items. When the guard rounded the corner, he crossed the street.

  He placed his hand on the door and tested it with a slight push. It didn’t move. He looked to his left, then his right.

  At the tips of his fingers, a bright light flashed near the deadbolt, and the lock clicked. It was a simple trick, really, one requiring only a small amount of magical knowledge. He pushed the door open and stepped inside.

  Once in, he closed his eyes, taking in her incredible energy filling the room. It drifted through the air, moving from canvas to canvas, and into his pores. He shuddered from the electrical pulse driving through his veins and opened his eyes with a start. His attention was drawn to one of the canvases in the back, so he walked toward it.