The dark forest was known for consuming wayward explorers, who had the misfortune of losing track of time. Nightfall brought on a whole new world of dangerous creatures, only described in tales to keep children in bed. Luckily, Wendell was in the presence of someone who knew every path going in and out of the woodlands. Before long, they reached the tranquil thicket, where Fey would continue her studies. The wooden altar still stood in the middle of the band of foliage and the dirt surrounding it showed no semblance of her substantial water spell.
“We’re here,” she announced.
“I’ve read every single page in this book a hundred times over…I’m not sure I’m going to find more information about the ring here,” she sighed with a disheartened expression. Fey wanted nothing more than for the ring to be something her gran wanted her to have, but how would she ever know?
“Why don’t you just try conjuring something? Maybe the ring will show us its purpose?” Wendell sat down on the large tree trunk the girl often used as a sitting place.
Plucking a ripe, red apple from the tree above her head she answered, “Okay, I can try.” As she agreed, she began setting up the altar and ritual offerings in the wooden bowl she’d brought, along with lighting the two candles to signify the element of fire. She opened her grandmother’s book to the last page of the Destructive Spells. This was the last incantation she needed to carry out before her Trials, which were only a few days away. Destructive spells required magic the girl hadn’t tapped into, just yet. For some reason, she had a good feeling about today.
“You stay there—I’ll practice over here, because this could get ugly fast, so distance is the key,” she warned Wendell.
Jokingly, he jumped off the trunk and ran back farther into the woods with his hands in the air in a state of panic. “I’m sure you’ll do fine!” he facetiously called back.
Leering at his humor, Fey reached for the hearty apple she had picked. Placing it between her hands, she hoisted it up into the air and began reciting the words of her ancestors. She needn’t glance at the incantation on the page, for again, she knew every word by heart.
The already choppy wind picked up and caught leaves and small branches in a whirlwind around the girl. Her hair shot upward, flailing behind her shoulders and over her face as Wendell on-looked with awe in his eyes as the girl’s power soared to levels he had never witnessed before in his life. She truly is something, he remarked in absolute awe. As the airstream doubled, azure colored tracers zipped around the girl like supersonic fireflies buzzing around her body. Her form was barely visible until a plume of spectral colored fire propelled from her hands into the open forest. The inferno soon gathered with the force of the wind around the witch, encasing her in a fiery shield.
Wendell wanted to stop Larae with every ounce of decency he had left, but it wasn’t enough to stop her merciless mind games. His feeble attempts to regain control was useless. He couldn’t fight the evil tempest guiding his actions as if he were a mere pawn in a game of chess. Larae’s power was too strong, he had to let the girl continue with her casting. As always, his resolve fell short and he was left under the wench’s tight grasp. Nothing consumed his thoughts more than the drive to carry out what Larae wished. Still, he knew that he would, one day, overthrow her macabre ideology and end the pervasive mind control that plagued his limbs and mind. As the dried grass around the girl’s feet ignited, she opened her eyes to see the dramatic force of her power unleashing to its absolute potential.
Her grandmother’s book opened, and the air savagely flipped to stop on a single page. Fey focused on the words scribbled below the picture of a vile demon known to be especially wicked, but the name of the creature was marked out. She had discovered the page before and thought little of it, as there was no need to worry about such creatures in her realm. But, has the name always been missing? She pondered. There were many demons described in the book and nothing about this one seemed any different, other than the fact that is was nameless. One word caught her attention as the fire shooting from her hands began to scorch the growth of trees hanging over her: Granddaughter.
She realized it was a message from her gran and tried to stop the blazing fire coming from her hands to no avail. She gave up and tossed her eyes back to the book.
Granddaughter,
My dearest Fey, I have struggled with telling you this all your life and have obviously failed at doing so, even as you come upon your unrelenting destiny. Forgive me, as I could not tarnish the wholesome goodness that I have found in you. There has been a terrible secret kept from you all these years, one that you will have no choice but to face. You’re not who you think you are and most definitely in grave danger. Do not, whatever you do, allow your cousin Larae to persuade your teachings to be White Matron. She is trying to unleash the darkness that dwells within you. I’ve done my best to keep you from understanding that you’re not like the other witches in Edelweiss Pines, but you already knew you were special. There’s just more to it than that. You will never know how hard it was for me to keep from you that you are half demon. Or, that your father was the devil himself. Please, don’t be scared Fey, I have told you this because I believe you possess the power to stop this great atrocity.
I’m sorry I never told you this in person. If I knew what had become of your mother, I would have told you, but that’s not information I have ever had. I’ve kept your other self at bay for years, and now it seems I won’t be around to help guide you. You must continue your monthly potion, and keep the evil part of yourself hidden, as I have. Stay away from Larae and do not let her offer you a ring. For once it’s placed upon your finger, the only thing left for her to do is take away your innocence. It will bring forth your demon half and you will be lost forever.
I love you, child. Please forgive me for what I have done, for I only ever had your best interest at heart. Take care of the duty that lies before you, for the entire town is resting on your shoulders.
Sincerely regretful,
Gran
Fey’s heart hit the bottom of her stomach as the world she knew withered away. What the hell does all this mean? I’m half demon, she contemplated as the feeling of heaviness returned, forcing her to the ground this time. The conflagration coming from her palms sputtered with short bursts of energy as she dropped the shriveling apple from her hands. Her vision was fading fast and she could no longer control her balance and the flood of images that plagued her mind. What’s happening to me, she cried internally. The girl reached for Wendell, who was now standing over her, watching her fade into an abysmal darkness. She glared as he bent down low, making contact with her scorching fingers. As a voice in the back of her head pronounced clearly, she beheld the eyes of her protector.
“Did you know about this?” Fey queried as she slipped out of consciousness and her body fell limp. Wendell reached down, cupping the side of her searing cheeks. He watched as the green glow of her irresistible eyes flushed red and fell dark as she closed them.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, watching the girl he loved fade away.
“What are you getting at?” The maddening sound of Larae’s voice interrupted his own concerned sobs. He wasn’t sure if she was here with him, or still inside his head.
“Pick her up, we’re going home.”
Wendell spun around, resting his eyes on the skinny frame of his love’s cousin. He would do anything to stop her from carrying out her revolting plans. Alas, he was still defenseless against her dark magic. Gripping the girl around the waist, he gently placed Fey over his shoulder as his master had commanded. If ever the time called for evasive action, he wished he could will himself to do it now. Before long, the foul witch would bring about the end of Edelweiss Pines and the only person who could stop it … would soon be just as evil.
CHAPTER 13
Innocence Lost
As the door to the dim chamber closed, a guttural feeling of rising trepidation pulled at the young woman’s nerves. She couldn’t accept her fate any
more than she could accept the chains that now weighed down her bloodied wrists. Fey had been chained to the dungeon ground, only giving her room to lie flat on the makeshift bed covering the stone floor. Letting out a coarse moan, she reflected on the throbbing pain her wretched cousin had inflicted with her malevolent, unstoppable power. She could still feel the sting of the green flames hungrily licking her backside. A helpless whimper escaped her lips as her blistered shoulder blades met the sheets beneath her body. The sound of a man’s voice filled her ears, and the hedge witch at once broke out in uncontrollable tremors that shuddered down to her toes.
“Who’s there?” Fey whispered; her voice cracked from the lack of drinking water for what seemed like days. With bated breath, she waited for a response, but only the sound of the crackling fire from a nearby hearth could be heard. Squinting her drowsy eyes, she tried to focus on the person standing in the shadows.
“I don’t know how to tell you this, but you have to understand,” the voice expressed.
“You know I don’t want to hurt you. I can’t control—”
The sound of the familiar voice steadily drew closer, trailing off into the void of dark obscurities.
“If I don’t do this, my hand will be forced. Much like the chains barring your getaway, I am a mere puppet; she controls my every action... But, you didn’t know that, did you?” The young man’s words spilled out above a forced whisper.
Wendell had been watching her from afar for what seemed like hours. The moons twilight rays now cascaded through the only window in the chamber, stretching its silvery radiance on a table in the corner of the room. The revolting sorceress’ deviltry had a firm grasp on his mind, forcing lewd thoughts to bombard his weakened psyche. Perversions he would never dream of inflicting on his beloved Fey.
It was Larae’s wicked persuasion that drove the growing bulge that threatened to rip his pants. He certainly didn’t want to feel like he did; it wasn’t right what his master was doing. All this corruption just to force out the girl’s inner-demons, demons as old as time itself. His eyes took notice of her prominent breasts as the fire’s rich, ginger glow danced over her perky mounds. Shimmering ancient text appeared on nearly every inch of her skin, cultivating the dark magic at work. He willfully dropped his gaze, not allowing himself to succumb to the evil witch's spell. Wendell was in love with the helpless heap of innocence chained to the floor and fought back at the hot fury building in his britches.
“NO,” He roared, sending a hefty wooden stool crashing against the wall. Without warning, a sultry voice spoke to him directly, sending him over the edge.
“Take the girl, and the dark lord’s spirit shall be revealed for all the clergy to witness his glory. Do this, and you both shall be set free.”
The hidden enchantress’ words pierced the broken man’s thoughts and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. His primal instincts had kicked in as the warmth of passion spread across his body.
The woman on the floor broke out in unrestrained sobs. “She can’t do this … Edelweiss Pines will be destroyed. How could she do this to her own coven? How could she,” Fey repeated, her shattering at the realization. Her confused words fell on deaf ears as again, Wendell’s actions were dictated by Larae.
She watched as he advanced on their separation, leaving little room between them. Somehow, she felt a chill run down her bruised skin like the voice of her inner-self still wanted him, even in her current state.
“We mustn’t …” she uttered. The luminous hue of the fire fizzled into a mystic puff of red smoke and the pair of star-crossed lovers caressed each other’s lips with an unbridled fervor. It was meant to be, but not that day. Not while the girl was vulnerable to transmogrifying into her demon counterpart.
“It’s too late …” she admitted as her thoughts gave way to an ocean of decadence that came with the forbidden sensuality of their bonding. If she gave away her innocence willfully, there would be no turning back. Was all hope lost?
TO BE CONTINUED…
Part: 2 coming 2018
About the Author
Multi-genre Author Jessica Ozment lives in Dyersburg, Tennessee with her daughter and wonderful supporting husband, Brett. Jessica was born in Jackson, Tennessee, where she relocated from shortly after she was born. After living in Texas for 26 years of her life, she decided to move back "home" to be closer to her immediate family and focus on her writing career.
Some of her hobbies include: reading, book blogging, writing, drawing (She attended college at the Art Institute of Dallas, where she studied Media Arts and Animation), painting, singing, graphics and anything to do with creative marketing. She has four published works: The Scarlet Memories Series (a two book Zompoc Series,) Rift: An Interdimensional Novella; her very first Science Fiction Romance...and White Matron: Deadly Secrets a detailed Dark Fantasy Anthology featured in The Aching Darkness Anthology.
BOOKS BY THE AUTHOR
Necrobloods
Tamzin Clarke v Jack the Ripper
Tamzin Clarke v the Mummy
Tamzin Clarke v the Monkey Paw
CONNECT WITH ROBERT STOCK
Amazon Author Page:
Amazon.com/Robert-Stock/e/B01N9UDQ4N
Lord of Blood: The Trophy Room
Lord of Blood: Bathed In Blood
Copyright © 2017 by Robert Stock
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Cover Art by Jessica Ozment
The Trophy Room
I first met Joe Smith fifteen years ago when I started my residency, he and I were ER docs. One night he told me that he was immortal, “like a vampire without the fangs” was how he put it. Now Joe is always joking around, so much that it’s sometimes hard to tell when the comedy ends and the truth begins, but it turned out he wasn’t kidding about that one.
Joe hasn’t aged a day since I met him all those years ago. And I’m not just being flattering here, in fifteen years he literally has not aged a single day. As for being a fangless vampire, he sure does look the part—six foot three, dark hair, with a Hollywood ready brooding demeanor that would be right at home in any gothic vampire flick. But immortality is the least unusual thing about Joe: let me tell you about his powers.
I’m not sure how it works, if it’s science or magic or something else entirely, but Joe can control blood. I know that sounds weird, but bear with me here: Joe can manipulate blood and make it move on its own, like something out of Fantasia. It goes further than that, though. He also has the same power over human organs. Just by looking at them, Joe can rearrange a person’s insides, peel them like an orange, or burst them like a piñata. As you can probably imagine, this is a handy ability for a doctor to have, and Joe is one of the best. When my soulmate, Alyssa, was rushed to the ER, it was Joe who saved her life. For that, I would forgive him anything.
The other thing you need to know about Joe is that he has a dark side, a very dark side. People who cross Joe tend to disappear like they stepped into an open manhole cover to Hell. He also tends to open up with me. Not sure why, maybe I have an honest face. One night, after a few beers, he offered to show me the new “exhibit” in his “trophy room”. I asked what he was talking about and he told me this tale to prepare me.
“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned…” Joe crossed himself as he sat down in the vestibule.
The priest, an older man, was idly distracted by some dirt on his sleeve, “Yes, my son, please continue,” he said as he brushed at it.
“My last confession was one hundred twenty seven years ago.”
The father’s eyes flicked upwards and he tried not to shake his head, lest the parishioner see him through the screened opening between them. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself. Confession duty would be over in forty five minutes, he reminded himself.
“I need to tell you about Danielle.” Joe paused, deep in thought. “I fell deeply in love with her, something that doesn’t normally happen to me. She was an angel, dark hair, brown eyes, and her laugh: her laugh was magical. It could light up the darkest night, father. I can tell you she was one of a kind, like no one I’ve known for over a thousand years.”
The priest started rubbing his graying temples. This was going to be a long one.
“I can see that the name doesn’t jog your memory,” Joe said, “You may know her better as the detective who was working the Pied Piper Cutter murders.”
This caused Father Donovan to straighten up on his bench. He remembered the case, as everyone did. The faces of the young boys, the victims, were indelibly impressed in his mind, even though this was over thirty years ago.
“I was there when she met with you. You had known some of the children that were killed. I sat at the back of the church, while you both sat in the front pew.” Joe paused. “She was studying you. Even though she never mentioned you as a suspect, I had a feeling that she was onto something.”
The Aching Darkness_A Dark Fantasy Anthology Page 21
