Magic After Dark: A Collection of Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels

by Margo Bond Collins

  “Still too proud and strong I see, but you’ll break this time. I’ll make sure of it. The reaping will be completed and my apprenticeship to Hulbetto will be finalized,” he told me, a vengeful promise evident in his voice.

  “Guard!” He yelled out, “Take her to the basement and solitary confinement.”

  The guard yanked me off the exam table causing agonizing pain to flash through my shoulder.

  As the guard pulled me down the hallway, I heard Dr. Hanley say, “Let’s see how you do in sensory deprivation.”

  Chapter 3

  My heart raced and I gagged as bile rushed up the back of my throat. I knew I wouldn’t survive solitary confinement this time. I couldn’t say that I cared. My parents would surely be relieved that I had finally cooperated and died.

  No, I decided, they wouldn’t care whatsoever. They had stopped visiting me years ago, I was nothing to them.

  It was surprising that I hadn’t died before now. I’d shamefully begged for death on more the one occasion, though only within the confines of my mind. I wouldn’t allow the cries to pass over my lips.

  The various doctors through the years had subjected me to hundreds of ridiculous therapies—including electroconvulsive therapy, periods of starvation, cryotherapy, exorcism and so many more. I was lucky that my brain hadn’t been fried from the various treatments and drugs over the years.

  And now Hanley’s treatment, which was an all-new level of hell on earth! He wanted to try a regimen of sensory deprivation—no light, no food and water, and no human contact. He was an evil, hateful man.

  It was freezing in the small room where I had been housed and forgotten by Hanley. I think that was part his planned torture—make me wait endlessly for him to finish this reaping he mentioned. Whatever that was. Or maybe he was waiting for this Hulbetto person to show up and join the, let’s torture me party.

  He said he was an apprentice—but an apprentice to whom and for what purpose? He was already a doctor, what more could he want? Whatever the reason for the wait, I had a feeling I could expect more pain in my future.

  My current accommodations were in the dank asylum basement, where a thick layer of mold coated the brick walls. There were no creature comforts—only creatures.

  I could hear rodents circling around me, mice or rats, I couldn’t say because I was blind in the pitch black, lightless cell. But I imagined they were waiting for me to sleep or, at this point, to die.

  Whenever I did fall asleep, which wasn’t often anymore, they would creep up to me and begin chewing on my fingers or toes. They had no fear of me and yet, I abhorred them!

  I’d wake up within a flash and screaming silently. At first I’d lash out with my fists and legs, but I no longer had the energy to do that. Now, I just weakly shoo’d them away. I hoped they’d leave me alone and my digits intact.

  Hanley had abruptly stopped all my medications and now I had no way to protect myself from the waves of emotions pouring in unhindered. I’d learned, that while I may hate the drugs, they did blunt the noise and make it somewhat manageable so that I could concentrate on other things.

  As I withdrew, I had no reference for up or down; right or wrong. I was lost and drowning in a sea of pain. I shivered and writhed on the sweat soaked grey and white ticking mattress that had been thrown into the corner.

  I vomited and choked as I tried to breathe and relieve my stomach at the same time. I managed to crawl over to the opposite corner where I had vomited multiple times. I could still smell the acidic bile, as well as the pervasive scent of mold. At this rate I’d die of asphyxiation as my lungs were filled with mold, not a pleasant thought.

  My mind was a swirling black mass filled with hate, loathing, disgust and every other negative emotion you could name. Mingled with that was desperation, hopelessness, pain, sadness, despair and shame. The latter, the most painful of all the emotions, as it was the one I’d felt most often from my parents, especially at the end, before I’d been readmitted.

  Now that the voices of the lost were no longer subdued by the medications—the cacophony of emotions had become incapacitating and my heart stuttered under the onslaught.

  As a diversion from the pain and the voices in my head, I made music with my mind. But this time when I did, golden notes sparkled in the air around me. I had to be hallucinating and watched as they winked in and out of focus.

  This must be the end I thought with acceptance, but I was more than ready. I’d reached that time of knowing and decided to go quietly.

  There was no sense in crying out against the inevitable. Who would hear me? But more importantly—who would care?

  I floated buoyant on a dark sea of unrelieved nothingness—numbed with cold and sensory deprivation. The only thing that kept me anchored to this side of forever was my connection to Mia. We had become secret friends after my last visit home when I was eight years old.

  She helped to pull me through my personal hell, just as I tried to help her through whatever hell she was experiencing.

  She was always with me—even now when I had lost the will to live. The other voices would come and go, but she remained constant. We tried to keep the horrendous details of our daily subsistence to ourselves, or as much as we could.

  I wanted to protect her, just as she wanted to protect me from the harsh truths of our realities. But occasionally the pain and our emotions were too much and they would spill through our shared connection.

  We were trapped in situations that neither of us could change. We were prisoners to the machinations of those with all the power. My parents kept me incarcerated in these private institutions ashamed of who I was and she was—well, I didn’t know exactly what her situation was, she never explained. I only knew that she suffered and painfully so—because I felt it all with her.

  I tried to focus on her and the distinct voice of my new companion. His presence was a comfort to me, as was his unique, emotion-free voice. I loved the musical quality of his brogue and could get lost in listening to him speak within my mind.

  He told me to hold on because they would be there soon to free me from my hell. Whoever they were, but no one wanted me free. I’d been put here on purpose—to stop the voices, yet here he was, a new voice to add to all the others.

  He kept me company in my sensory-deprivation hellhole. At this point I was beyond questioning how he spoke to my delusional mind. He was here, I wasn’t alone and that was all that mattered.

  Mia was with me too, though I barely felt her now.

  I allowed myself the comfort in believing that they were both real, though I knew it was a lie. He was a figment of my deranged mind, just as Mia was—both created to keep me company.

  Despite his presence and hers, I would quietly fade away. I would retain what small measure of dignity I had left, however fleeting it may be.

  I didn’t realize that my eyes were open until a ribbon of blue iridescence shimmered past and captured my fixed gaze. I wanted to touch that comforting glow and hold its warmth against my freezing soul, but as I reached out a trembling hand—it vanished.

  And I knew nothing but darkness again.

  Chapter 4

  Time was irrelevant when there was no benchmark to gauge it by, so I had no idea of its passage. But moments or days later, the blue iridescence was back—sentient and masculine, if that were possible. Its warmth enveloped me as it shimmered through the darkness, illuminating all that should have remained hidden.

  My companion whispered through my mind again. He felt closer than before. His emotionless voice distinct amongst the lost screaming for my attention.

  He had returned to escort me through the darkness on my final journey. I wouldn’t be alone in this final hell. I would have cried had it been possible.

  “You have been very difficult to find,” he said within my mind.

  “Who are you?” I asked in kind.

  “My name is Cipriano.”

  “How do I hear you above the others?” I asked.


  “I’ve lived a long time and can shield you from the other voices, diminishing their volume.”

  “If I begged, would you stay for a while? Would you keep them subdued so that I can fade away—in peace and quiet?”

  “There will be no fading,” he demanded of me, his brogue thickening when he added, “you will fight!”

  I closed my eyes in shame at the vehemence of his emotions—I had no will to live, as there was nothing left to live for. I could feel Mia fading too.

  “I hear all that you wish to hide. But you mustn’t give up. I’m on my way, Pena. Have faith.”

  Cipriano began telling me stories of craggy green hills blanketed in heather. He described them so perfectly that when he projected the scenery directly into my mind, it was exactly as I had envisioned.

  He was a hallucination, as were the stories and the pictures he shared with me, but at the same time, he helped to alleviate the pain caused by the screaming voices of the lost, sensory deprivation, the cold, the hunger and the horrible drug withdraw. The combination of all of these were warping my reality, but at this point I didn’t care.

  “Won’t you tell me your name?” He asked me at one point.

  “I can’t recall it—all that I know right now and all that I can feel—is pain.”

  And so began his stories of magnificent dragons. That’s when I knew for sure he was a fairytale of my delusional mind. Mia and I had always loved dragons, so what were the odds that this voice would begin stories about the beautifully scaled creatures.

  He explained to me how the male dragons were like warriors of old, protecting their clans and the aristocracy as their guardsmen. He showed me what it felt like to fly high above the mountaintops and to skim across the deep blue lakes that reflected the sky above and the dragons within.

  He gave me a taste of freedom and it helped to beat back the claustrophobic feeling of suffocation that slowly consumed me as I lay dying in my lightless dungeon grave.

  He shared the love he had for his brothers and briefly, I was able to experience what it felt like to have a family bond that went bone deep. They were connected beyond that of mere brotherhood and I had always longed for that feeling, that sense of family.

  I had it briefly as a child, but even then it felt weighted by condition. If I behaved in a certain manner, then it flowed freely and without reserve. When I was their little Snow White, all was well within my parents’ world, but when I didn’t conform to their reality, I felt their disappointment and shame.

  Unlike normal children, I could really feel what they felt, even though they had no idea that I could. Or rather never believed that I could.

  The wonderful vignettes Cipriano shared with me about his brothers were treasured moments that I brought out to review when I was cold and alone and waiting to die. I’m sure he had no idea what he had given me—a gift beyond measure and without compare.

  He gave me solace.

  I’d refused to beg my tormentors through the long years—denying them the satisfaction of my voice—but I willingly begged Cipriano for more stories, more scenery, just more of his interesting dragon life. I shared his stories and visions with Mia.

  She and I had loved to make up stories about fantastical creatures and far away lands where mythical dragons flew through the night sky, as fierce warriors to the rescue. But they were nothing compared to what Cipriano shared with me. His insight and detail was far beyond anything that I could’ve imagined. Mia did a wonderful job weaving her magical dragon stories.

  Typically, Cipriano’s emotions were shielded from me which was why he was such a comfort, but occasionally when he spoke of his brothers, I could feel his sadness and grief.

  I asked to tell me about his brothers, so that perhaps sharing the burden of his grief would alleviate the pain in his soul.

  It was that one pivotal question that had solidified our bond and while I knew it was all made up, the connection I felt with Cipriano seemed so real. It was through that one question, that I learned all about the Drampires and the hate they had for the Dragons, but specifically Cipriano and his brothers.

  Cipriano had been alive since the Crusades. His Dragon clan had always been protectors and originally came from what is now considered Eastern Europe. His father, Laurent, had been employed as a guardsmen by a Scottish nobleman who’d come to the Middle East on his first crusade.

  Of course his father had kept secret the fact that he was a Dragon, initially that is. Laurent and the noblemen had bonded, which led his father to eventually confess the truth. Laurent had several brothers that were also Dragon leaders, so he decided to take his mate and return to Scotland with his nobleman.

  Laurent formed his own clan in Scotland and several Dragons came with him when he left to travel to his new homeland.

  Cipriano and his two brothers, Aiden and Jakoi, were born in Scotland and followed in their father’s footsteps becoming guardians to the Scottish aristocracy. The trouble came with the neighboring clan of Druids.

  The Dragons kept to themselves, but they weren’t exactly a secret or even necessarily hidden and the Druids envied the Dragons’ immortality. Over time, the Druids and the Dragons became enemies.

  The Druids found a way to hijack the coveted immortality from the Dragons by mortally wounding a full-fledged Dragon. Once wounded they would steal the Dragons’ essence to acquire infinite immortality.

  This was the preferred method, Cipriano told me. But it wasn’t easy for the Druids to acquire because no Dragon would willingly give it up their essence—their very soul.

  This is when the Druids became creative. They devised a way to attain immortality without stealing it from full-fledged Dragons. They had a knack for finding people with Dragon blood. When located, the Druids captured these brethren and perform a reaping ceremony.

  They would carve dark magic glyphs into their skin using a ceremonial blade made from Damascus steel—which was paralyzing for a Dragon, just like kryptonite was for Superman. Then they would torture the brethren to death.

  During this process, the Druid would harness and reap that emotional energy into an amulet, also made from Damascus steel and adorned with a blood red stone. They would wear the amulet around their necks and the harnessed energy would provide the Druid with extended life.

  The effect of the reaping was short lived and has to be replenished over and over. In this process the Drampire had been born. Hulbetto was one of the longest lived and had been around since the crusades. He had tried to kill Cipriano on multiple occasions throughout the centuries and was responsible for the death of one Cipriano’s brothers and the cursing of another.

  Cipriano had been searching for his brother, Aiden, for centuries he told me. If he were real that is. I wanted him to be real, but I wasn’t convinced and it didn’t matter.

  My time was over…

  The blue iridescence that was Cipriano, slid across my lips to offer what felt like sustenance. My heart ceased with its rapid stuttering almost instantaneously and began to beat with a regularity I hadn’t known in a long while.

  “What did you do?” I asked surprised.

  “I offered you a bit of my life force or essence—if you will. It’s very dilute, as I’m not really here and only an astral projection. But when I arrive to free you from hell, I will give you a proper offering.”

  I didn’t understand what he was trying to say and help was so foreign to me that I didn’t know how to respond.

  “You’re just a vivid apparition of my deranged mind,” I dismissed.

  “You’re not deranged and I’ll prove it to you once I’m there. But, for now you must fight.”

  “You’re too late,” I said, as I felt my heart stutter again, “but thank you for these precious moments of respite.”

  “You will not fade!” He yelled through my mind.

  But I was beyond responding and took my final breath—welcoming death.

  Chapter 5

  With that final breath I was consumed and sur
rounded by—nothing.

  The stuttering cadence of my heart was silent. My breath ceased rasping in and out of my lungs. There was no white light to behold, there was just—nothing.

  Quiescence—at long last…

  However, in what seemed like the very next moment, I stood outside on the cool green grass, though I couldn’t feel the prickly blades under my feet. I was no longer corporeal and I was blessedly pain free for the first time since I was eight years old. That alone was a precious gift and it only took dying to make it happen.

  I had caught the sun just as it was sinking beyond the horizon—glowing with the most magnificent colors I had ever seen. Pinks, oranges, blues and so many other exquisite colors blending together, that I couldn’t name them all. A beautiful, yet unexpected gift to end the day and to end my miserable existence.

  Given what my parents and the staff thought of me, I should be descending straight to hell. I had no idea what to do next, so I did nothing at all. I watched the sun finish its nightly descent and waited to make mine.

  I heard what sounded like a helicopter off in the distance, but when I looked I didn’t see one. I watched the light fade from the final vision of beauty before me and saw a flock of birds winging its way through the night sky.

  They were in a tight V formation and flew across my final sunset. I watched in astonishment as the flock of birds landed on the grass before me. But they weren’t birds after all.

  But Dragons—five of them—come to take me straight to hell.

  They were large, like the size of a van. They had seemed so much smaller flying through the sky.

  Who knew that such magnificent creatures would be utilized to escort, the dead and their damned souls, to the other side.

  I should have been afraid, but I wasn’t. Between the stories Cipriano shared and the ones I wove with Mia, I felt like I knew these mythical creatures bone deep.