Dark Is Her Nature

by Judith Berens

  “I did, but things changed, and we were in a hurry.”

  Alison walked forward, crossing her arms over her chest as she studied the panic clouding Claire and the other’s energy. “What did you come here for? To tell us it wasn’t you?”

  Scarlett gritted her teeth, clenching her fist. “No, I came here to find out whether you plan on keeping our deal, even though we weren’t the ones who told on you.”

  “A deal’s a deal. As long as you hold up the other part of yours.”

  “It’s already been spread around to leave you alone and if you have any issue with anyone you come to me and I’ll take care of them.”

  “Then yes, the deal is still on.”

  “It’d better be. If you let it slip we’ll come down on you so hard you’ll spend the rest of this year black and blue.” Scarlett turned quickly, pointing at Aya. “And that goes for you too. I know you know what’s going on.”

  Aya nodded, her cheeks red and her hands shaking slightly. Scarlett turned her attention back to Alison, her face softening. “So, what was the punishment?”

  Izzie scoffed. “Flower duty with Fowler, and the boys are in the library.”

  “Ooh.” The group winced. “The boys got the crap end of that one.”

  Alison looked at the others and cleared her throat. “Why were you in the dark area anyway?”

  Scarlett’s face contorted with anger. “That’s none of your damn business. Just remember the deal.”

  Scarlett turned to leave and the group followed her as she threw open the door and stomped out. The people in the common area scurried back, peeking into the girls’ room before Aya slammed the door shut. She turned, her face peaked, looking at Alison and the rest. Whatever was going on with Scarlett and her group, it wasn’t anything good.

  As promised, the next morning before the sun came up Horace knocked on the door. The girls had known to expect it, so they were dressed and ready to go. Alison answered it and nodded at Horace, who stood to the side to let the girls pass. They went to the dining hall first, where each was given a bowl of cereal and a cup of juice. There wasn’t anything magical about the plain yellow box sitting in the center of the table.

  “So this is what prison is like.” Kathleen rolled her eyes and took a bite of her cereal.

  Emma giggled. “I imagine it’s not quite as comfy.”

  “And no glass juice cups,” Izzie added.

  When they were done with breakfast they trudged down to the gardening complex with its three massive greenhouses and fields of plants. Mrs. Fowler was there, her bright red frizzy hair completely untamed, wearing a pair of patchwork gardening pants, a bright pink top, and gardening gloves. She looked up at the girls as they walked through the doors and stared around at all the tools.

  “Good morning, ladies. So happy to have some weekend help. The flowers don’t take them off, that’s for sure.” She giggled in a high pitch. “Now, who of you likes vegetables?”

  Kathleen timidly raised her hand, staring at Emma. With a sigh Emma raised hers as well, knowing full well she would never hear the end if she didn’t. Mrs. Fowler clapped her hands and went to the rows of tools, where she picked up a small hand trowel, a pair of pruning scissors, and two baskets. She handed the tools to Kathleen and the baskets to Emma.

  “I am going to make a delicious turnip-green salad tonight, so I need you ladies to walk down the pathway to plot six. You will see signs for the turnips and the radishes. Now, turnips are easy—you simply snip bunches right below the green part and throw them in the basket. The radishes are a bit more work. You need to grab them below the green leaves and pull straight up out of the ground. Then you snip any root that is deeply buried if it doesn’t release and toss it in the basket. I need both baskets filled to the top. You think you got that?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Emma mumbled.

  “Good. Now go on, and watch that you don’t stumble into plot four. They don’t like visitors too much, especially if you step on one of them.”

  Emma looked wearily at Kathleen and they headed out. Horace opened the building’s wood-slatted door and held back a grin as the two left the building and went toward the large sign in the distance. Mrs. Fowler turned back to Izzie and Alison, clasping her hands together.

  “I have something special for the two of you. My singing plants need a good fertilizer change. Come with me.”

  Izzie gave Alison a side glance as they followed the peripatetic teacher from the garden building to the first greenhouse. She opened the door and the girls were greeted with the harmonious tones of plants singing the 50s greatest hits in harmony with the music. Izzie bobbed her head and smiled.

  “They sing as long as the background music is on. Now, if the music stops for some reason, they get really angry and will take a finger off if you aren’t careful. But that rarely happens.”

  Alison lifted an eyebrow and Izzie exhaled hard. She glanced at Alison and shrugged.

  “At least we get some good music while we work.”

  Mrs. Fowler giggled. “Depends on what you call ‘good music.’ These singing plants are fine. Today, however, you are going to be working with the rejects.”

  “The rejects? Do they have bad voices?”

  “No, they just like a different kind of music.”

  Mrs. Fowler gestured for them to follow her and led them into a smaller greenhouse in the back. Alison could hear muffled drums and guitars. Mrs. Fowler stepped to the door and shook her head.

  “Hope you like metal.”

  When she opened the door a wild wind blew the girls’ hair straight back and the screams echoed in their ears. Alison clapped her hands over her ears and looked at Mrs. Fowler, who pulled two sets of earplugs out of her gardening apron and handed each girl one. Once the sound was at least muffled she showed them the tools and left them with a smile on her face.

  Alison and Izzie took their places across from each other, watching the plants thrash their flowers up and down and use their leaves to play air guitar. Both girls reached forward just as the music stopped, and they quickly pulled back their hands. The plants growled and chomped at the air until the music finally came back on. Alison lifted her eyebrows and looked at Izzie, who sighed and shook her head. What a punishment—left to lose digits to headbanging plants.

  They worked without speaking, mostly because the music was so loud they couldn’t hear a word anyone said. After each plant had been pruned it would look at them, hold up two leaves, and stick its tongue out of its tiny mouth. They were both starting to think detention in the library would have been a quiet ride compared to that.

  Across the fields stood Kathleen, swatting at flies as Emma cut the turnip leaves and handed them to her. She looked over her shoulder at plot four, where rows of tall orange flowers stared at them with beady dark eyes. Their stems and leaves were gnarled and twisted, resembling sharp claws, and Emma was positive she saw one of them flash fangs at her. Along the fence line of plot four were several warnings.

  Vampire Flora, STAY BACK.

  CERTAIN DEATH.

  CAUTION, BLOODSUCKERS.

  Kathleen turned to Emma, slightly fearful. “Why do we even preserve plants like that from Oriceran. Let them die out with the planet!”

  “You say that about them, yet you could say that about any living creature.” Emma pulled hard on a radish in the row next to the turnips, but the stems slipped from her hands. She fell back into the bushes and her hand landed in a pile of manure. “Yuck.”

  The girls worked all day, pausing once for sandwiches Horace brought over. When they were done the four of them headed back up to the dorms, utterly exhausted. On the chair outside the showers was a basket with towels and soaps and a note from Aya.

  “Figured you would need these before coming back to the room. Burn your clothes.”

  Alison chuckled as Kathleen read the note aloud. “Seems like she is finally getting a sense of humor.”

  Emma sniffed her collar and winced. “Or maybe she was
serious.”

  The girls cleaned up and headed to their rooms to change for Sunday dinner. Aya wasn’t in the room; she was still studying. There was a box with several different postage stamps sitting on Alison’s bed. Her name and the address of the school were written sloppily on the label with Braille printed under each line. She knew immediately it had to be from Brownstone and Shay. She hastily opened the box and started pulling things out, grabbing the attention of the other girls.

  “Those clothes are boring but cute. Just your style.” Kathleen yawned.

  Alison held up several plain t-shirts, cute cargo pants—which obviously had been purchased by Shay—and a bright red shirt with umbrellas on it which was probably Brownstone’s doing. She smiled and put the clothes to the side. There were also new satin undies, two boxes of tampons, some Midol, a few bags of snacks, some lip gloss, and a vanilla-scented body spray—everything Shay would think a girl needed. In the bottom was a note in Braille from Brownstone. She pulled it out and unfolded it, feeling dirt clinging to the edges.

  Alison,

  Thought you might need this stuff. Shay and I are proud of you for doing so well, and we hope you are starting to feel at home. Ms. Berens says you are doing fantastic. We will see you at Christmas Break.

  Take Care.

  James

  P.S. The umbrella shirt was from me.”

  Alison smiled as she folded the letter back up and stuck it in her drawer. She folded her new clothes, feeling a little less alone in the world, and set the red umbrella shirt to the side. It was hideous, but she didn’t just want to throw it away. Maybe Peter would like it. He was strange enough to wear it proudly.

  The girls spent the rest of the evening eating dinner and preparing for school the next day. They didn’t know if their punishment was over or if it would bleed into their other weekends, but they were happy to have today done and over with. Alison and the rest would definitely think twice before breaking that rule again...

  They never knew what would happen in the future, though.

  24

  Izzie leaned back in her chair as she waited for class to start. Everyone was chatting about their weekends. Peter had escaped from detention in the library. Izzie noticed his eyebrow had a new section missing, which led her to believe he had spent his weekend playing with some sort of science-magic concoction—and not to a positive end. Ethan was sitting in the seat against the wall, one foot in his chair, whittling another wood-working project. He rarely paid any attention to the other students, unless of course there was some kind of drama to take in. The girls were seated all around Izzie, and Emma and Kathleen were telling the others about the “terrifying Vampire Plants.” Aya studying as usual as Alison flipped through the pages of her Dark Energy textbook, one hand feeling the passing raised dots. She seemed to be frantic to find something.

  “Alison, what in the world are you looking for?”

  “Drow.”

  “I don’t think they hide out in high school textbooks.”

  “No, but information on them might. I found info a while ago in an old book at the library. I figured why not check in this one?”

  “But that’s a Dark Energy text...”

  Alison immediately stopped flipping the pages and closed the book, giving Izzie a forced smile. “You’re right. Didn’t think about that.”

  Alison let out a slow deep breath. She didn’t want her friends to think she was some sort of dark magical being hell-bent on destroying Earth, and that was what everyone made a Drow sound like. She was relieved when the professor walked into the room, ending any questions that Izzie might have asked. Maybe it was better to keep whatever information she found to herself, at least until she figured out the truth.

  Professor Xander Powell had been teaching the freshmen about dark energy in magic. He was a very intelligent man who rarely smiled, but Alison could see the kindness in his soul. He wore a perfectly-pressed dark blue suit every single day, and his hair was peppered white and grey with a matching beard. He was serious about the dangers of dark magic, and made sure not to make it sound fun or flashy in any of his lectures. From the swirl of dark energy that moved around him, Alison could tell he’d had his own run-ins with dark magic.

  “All right, class, settle down. Ethan, put the wood away.”

  “Yeah, Ethan, put your wood away,” one of the other students shouted, bringing a low roar of laughter from everyone else.

  Ethan showed the kid the middle finger and shoved his stuff into his bag. Mr. Powell sighed and took off his glasses, rubbing them with his handkerchief. He put them back on and blinked a couple of times before opening his notes.

  “In this class we have gone over several things, including the dark mist, the World in Between, and the use of dark magic in historically positive respects. Today we are going to continue the theme and discuss the history of one of the most well-known dark wizards in history, one who only recently died. Who knows who I am speaking of? Alison?”

  Alison cringed and cleared her throat. “Rhazdon, Professor Powell.”

  “Exactly! Rhazdon, who until recently we believed to be a wizard, but it turned out she was half-Atlantean. This history lesson will be a long one, mostly because through dark magic Rhazdon was able to live for over eight hundred years.

  “Rhazdon was born and raised on Earth, a normal magical being like any other child…or so we thought. Rhazdon not only was exceptionally capable in both potions and artifact magic, but she was a very powerful natural witch.”

  Izzie had never heard Rhazdon’s name before, but there was something in the back of her mind that made the story very familiar. There wasn’t a magical being on Earth or in Oriceran who didn’t know Rhazdon’s story, or at least how much of a threat she had been with the uprising of magical beings, but Izzie was still struggling. Her mind was constantly fuzzy; some things familiar, others not.

  “Rhazdon and her followers were misguided. But in the end she was remorseful for what she had unleashed onto the worlds and as her last act tried to make things right. Eight hundred and twenty years ago when a war raged between the Followers and many of our own, people died or were damned to the World in Between, and lives were changed forever. Does anyone know who sparked the rise of Rhazdon? Yes, Ethan?”

  “The seer shared the theory that when the next Golden Age comes it will drain the last of Oriceran’s magic and all creatures must go to Earth or perish.”

  “Very good.” Xander was impressed. Ethan wasn’t the kind of student to answer questions freely.

  “But,” Ethan added loudly. “That wasn’t why I raised my hand.”

  Xander sighed. “Okay, why did you?”

  “I have a question. It’s a bit off topic, but Rhazdon’s history isn’t changing so I figured it would be okay.”

  Xander just stared at Ethan, who swallowed hard and glanced at Peter.

  “I was wondering if you could maybe take a break and talk to us about the dark magic that happens in the underground cities.”

  “Yeah,” one of the other students called. “We should know these things in case we need to protect ourselves.”

  “The only reason you would need to protect yourself was if you were wandering through an undesirable area—and that should not be on the top of your list of rules to break.”

  Alison and the rest of her friends all looked at each other, knowing that was not true. They didn’t want to talk about what had happened, but at the same time, if it was something that could help they really couldn’t shy away from the truth. Alison took a deep breath and raised her hand, ignoring Ethan’s pleading stare.

  “Yes, Alison?”

  “I want to talk about a hypothetical situation.”

  “All right, go on.”

  “Let’s say there were a group of students in the underground city, and they were in all the right areas. And let’s say they walked up to the edge of the rich area...um... I don’t remember what it’s called.”

  “I am assuming you are refer
ring to Opulence.”

  “Yes, that’s it. So, say they go to the edge of Opulence to take in the view, and they are attacked by dark wizards. What would they do then? They weren’t in an undesirable area and they weren’t doing anything wrong, but they found themselves in a bad situation.”

  Xander cleaned his glasses again and looked at Alison, not with concern, but more with knowledge. He cleared his throat and sat down at his desk. He didn’t want to have this discussion, but it never failed that something about the underground city’s dark magic always came up. After all, he was the Dark Energy teacher, and got questions about it constantly in his upper-level classes.

  “In this underground city and all the other ones, there are undesirable parts of town. Dark magic has been a draw for magical beings since the beginning of time. Think about what you know about humans: they try to live wholesome lives, but they are constantly drawn to their dark sides. Drinking, drugs, murder, anger, rage—they are all forms of dark energy. Even the best of the humans can fall victim to their temptations. Dark magic is no different.”

  Ethan raised his hand again but didn’t wait to be called on. “But what kind of dark magic?”

  “Every kind,” Xander stated bluntly, leaning forward. “The dark areas of our underground cities are crawling with people like Rhazdon, those who crave the dark magic and have given their souls to it in exchange for worldly pleasures. The magic can turn on them at any time, and works through every living creature. There are potions that will turn the kindest magical being into a bloodthirsty beast. There are poisons, spells, and mind control. There are those who would strike you dead with a forbidden curse and never blink an eye. There are creatures we thought long lost even on Oriceran that slink through the shadows, even royalty that has long since been forgotten.”

  Alison shifted in her seat uncomfortably, thinking about her mother, about the pictures in the book from the library. She thought about what Brownstone had told her about her mother, about how her mother had been a two hundred and twelve-year-old Drow princess—strong and powerful—but that was the extent of what he knew. That technically made Alison a princess, but when she had been told she had pushed it out of her mind, not wanting to be any different than her classmates. However, since the tides were changing and after what had happened in the dark city with the wizards, she couldn’t help but revisit it. Maybe her being some sort of ancient royalty had something to do with the attack?