“It’s time,” a voice he recognized as Yvette’s said.
“Oh goody!” Sinclair beamed, clapping her hands in front of her. She stood from Dominic’s lap and sneered down at him.
“Greta, light the candles,” Sinclair ordered, her eyes never leaving Dominic’s paralyzed form. “Help our guest onto the platform, boys. Make sure you don’t hurt his body. Drake will rip your hearts out and eat them for breakfast if you make him look like shit.”
Drake? Dominic remembered the name on the platform headstone that marked the gravesite they frequented, Drake D’Mon. Could that be who she was referring to? But, how is that possible? The man is presumably dead.
“What are you doing!?” Dominic finally found his voice and shouted at Sinclair.
She ignored him as Theo grabbed his shoulders, and Chase got his legs. They lifted him from the ground and carried him over to the platform, laying him upon it.
“Sinclair!” Dominic yelled. “What the hell is this?”
“Shh, shh, shh.” She bent over and cupped his face in her hands. “I’m going to free your soul, Dominic. Your body is the vessel I need to bring my Drake back. I’m sorry, but it had to be you. It always had to be you. We’re just going to do a little switch-a-roo, sweetie. I promise it won’t hurt…much.”
A raven’s caw sounded from overhead and he looked up, seeing a black shape swoop down to perch on Sinclair’s shoulder. She turned her head toward it and kissed its smooth beak. “Soon, my love,” she cooed as she stroked its broad chest. The bird took flight again to perch on one of the expansive tree branches of the old oak tree.
The bird looked down at Dominic with eyes an eerie orange-yellow color that seemed to glow in the reflection of the moon. It cawed once again, more loudly than he had ever heard a bird screech before. More of the birds littered the air, their cries almost deafening as they swooped and turned through the air aeronautically before settling in the same tree as the first. He noticed the rest of them didn’t have the same eye color. Their eyes were jet-black, like the feathers on their backs. There were hundreds of them everywhere.
Silence fell in an instant. The only sound was the ominous inhale and exhale of Sinclair’s breathing. Dominic turned his head a little too fast to look at her. Greta, Theo, Yvette, and Chase were circled around him, their heads bowed, eyes closed and each of them holding a black pillar candle. Sinclair was at his head, a long black cloak draped over her shoulders. Black candles surrounded him on each corner, and try as he might, he couldn’t knock them off. He was paralyzed to his spot on the platform, the cold granite pressed to his back. It was like an invisible force had pinned him to the platform and rendered him motionless.
And then the silence was broken as Sinclair and her coven began to shout into the night.
“We call to the shadows, the darkness and gloom! Hear us now, we beg of you!” Sinclair’s arms were spread wide and her chest was pressed forward.
Dark clouds multiplied overhead, blocking out the light of the moon and the graveyard became shrouded further in darkness. A ghostly shadow was cast over Sinclair’s face as the soft glow of the candle danced across her features. Just then, a rumble of thunder sounded in the distance, gradually becoming louder. Dominic’s apprehension increased, his senses on high alert, but his body still refused to cooperate with his brain.
Sinclair’s voice was deep and throaty, accentuating certain words as she led her monotone minions and spouted some sort of spell. “From darkness we forge immortal life! I beg of the wicked to capture his light! From this undeserving vessel shall his soul depart, still his worthless beating heart!”
Immense pain erupted in Dominic’s chest and stomach, like a bomb had exploded and lodged shrapnel in every organ. He cried out in terror, knowing he would surely die from the intensity of the excruciating pain alone. A sharp stinging sensation, like a thousand needles pierced his skin and shot through his limbs, followed closely by the sense of being burned alive. It felt so real that Dominic looked his body over, relieved to find no flames. The fire was then extinguished and replaced by a frigid cold, like ice water running through his veins. He squeezed his eyes closed as he felt his body being ripped apart, molecule by molecule.
And then he felt nothing. No more pain, no more anything.
Fearing the worst, Dominic opened his eyes to face whatever it was that laid beyond the here and now. He expected to see a bright white light, a tunnel or maybe even his mother, but what he saw was his own physical being. He was looking down upon himself, floating helplessly, his soul only attached by thin, wispy strands like a spider’s webbing. He looked at his lifeless body, his eyes still shut and his mouth agape. His new form was a plethora of vibrant, yet translucent colors. He was glowing, encompassed by a tranquil sort of light. He didn’t need anyone to tell him what it was, he just knew. It was his life’s essence.
Sinclair gasped at the sight, almost as if she was surprised that it was actually happening. She was removing his soul.
She composed herself and continued the ritual in a more confident voice. “Blood of blood, of you he was made! Take it back, that life which you gave!”
Her cohorts began to chant, “Drake D’Mon,” like the steady beat of a drum, their rhythm increasing with each repetition of the name.
Dominic tried to reach out and pull himself back into his body, but there was nothing for him to hold onto. He was hovering weightlessly. Once the ties were broken, he knew gravity would betray him, and he would just float away to the hereafter. Where that was, he did not know, but it scared the shit out of him considering the things he had done in his life.
“His soul I receive, and gift to you! Accept my offering, be born anew! His soul I receive, and gift to you! Accept my offering, be born anew! His soul I receive, and gift to you! Accept my offering, be born anew!” Sinclair screamed over and over again into the nothingness that surrounded them.
Dominic cried out in protest, his pleas sounding like silent echoes that fell upon deaf ears. The ravens began to croak, their chanting becoming louder and louder, drowning him out. Fear gripped him by the balls as panic set in, and then acceptance. All hope was lost. He knew they would succeed.
The wind picked up, howling through the swaying branches of the trees. The flames of the candles extinguished with a puff of air. The ravens above him seemed to screech in protest, and the thunder rumbled in applause. It wasn’t the ominous thunder from before. This one was different, almost vengeful. All chanting stopped, replaced by terrified screams and the scurrying feet of the drunken idiots surrounding him.
Dominic turned his head toward the commotion to find an elderly lady dressed in a long and shiny pale green cloak. Beautiful white hair flowed in the relentless wind as she approached them. With her arms spread wide, she reminded him of a Luna Moth. Her face was angelic, her eyes a luminescent light blue. A white light surrounded her like a shield, and the brighter the light got, the brighter her eyes glowed. He was nearly blinded by the sight.
“Stop her!” Sinclair ordered.
Chase and Theo ran at the woman, threatening to overtake her. In response, the lady merely looked at them with an air of calm about her. An unseen force smacked the men away as easily as a battering ram swatting a fly. Yvette and Greta continued to scream and cry, paralyzed by fear and unable to move.
“Go,” the old woman commanded, never once raising her voice or lifting a finger to touch either of them.
The girls found their will to move and took off in the same direction Theo and Chase had been thrown. Sinclair and Dominic were alone with the stranger. Sinclair looked for her escape and then back to him, warring with her need for self-preservation and her desire to finish the ritual. She was scared, that much was obvious.
Regardless, she chose the latter.
“Haven’t you taken enough from me? You can’t have him too!”
Sinclair frantically continued to chant again, her voice trembling as she watched the stranger draw nearer. The lady in the pale gr
een cloak approached the altar and outstretched an arm, her palm facing toward Sinclair.
“I won’t let you do this, Sinclair. It’s not right.”
“Neither is what you did!” She focused her attention back to Dominic, her chant stronger and more persistent.
The woman pushed her hands forward and an invisible force struck Sinclair in the chest, launching her back and into the tree. She slumped to the ground, unconscious. The ravens that had been roosting in the tree above took flight and scattered, disappearing into the night.
Dominic knew he should have been terrified of what his fate would now be, but he wasn’t. He felt kindness radiating off the lady, the light enveloping him and making him feel safe and at ease.
He was graced with a gentle smile as she walked over to stand next to his empty body.
“Don’t worry. All will be fine.” Her voice was warm and motherly, giving him reassurance.
She placed both of her hands on his right shoulder and closed her eyes. Then she began to whisper incoherent murmurings in a rush as she tilted her head back, her face turned toward the sky. Like two hands pushing back curtains, the clouds parted, revealing the moon once again.
She lifted her hands from his shoulder and turned them, palms facing up, toward the cloudless sky. The white light around her intensified exponentially with her quiet murmurings, and a ball of light formed, delicate in her palms. As the ball grew brighter, she looked back down into his eyes with proffered comfort. Without warning, a clap of thunder echoed through the night sky. At the same moment, the lady pushed the ball of light down and into his shoulder.
The force was so great it shook the earth and the platform beneath him. Dominic was temporarily blinded by the bright white light exploding before his eyes. A pleasant tingling radiated throughout his essence as warmth began to flow again. When his vision was returned, he opened his eyes to see that he was looking back up at the old oak tree. He lifted his arms to look at his hands, and then patted his chest. He was back in his own body.
“Come, Dominic. We need to talk.”
“Who…Who are you? How do you know my name? And what the hell was all that?”
“My name is Availia Cruz, and I am a Guardian of the Light,” she started as she helped an apprehensive Dominic rise to a sitting position. “I have been sent here to help you.”
“By who?” Dominic stood.
“There’s no time to explain now. She won’t be out for very long, and I grow weak. We need to get you someplace safe.” Her gentle eyes asked him to trust her as she offered him her hand.
Her eyes conveyed sincerity like he had never known, and although he had no idea what had just happened to him, he knew that the end result would have been the loss of his life. And this stranger had been the one to save him. So, Dominic took her hand and allowed her to lead him out of the graveyard.
Their first stop was at his house where Dominic gathered as many of his possessions as he could. Then he loaded all of it into his car and followed Availia to another house. It turned out to be her home, but she assured him he would be safe there, as it was protected by the Light.
They sat up for most of the night, Availia filling in details about the danger he was in. She nursed the burn mark to his right shoulder, which eventually morphed into the scar Kerrigan had questioned him about. Availia also explained that the spell Sinclair had cast was a powerful one meant to remove his soul from his body so that another could occupy his place. She warned him that since the dark spell was cast by another, she could not fully counteract its power, so there would likely be side effects, so to speak.
The next night, at exactly midnight, he found out what that side effect was.
The old grandfather clock downstairs began to chime its descent to doom, bringing Dominic back to the present. This was the time of night that he dreaded the most. He kicked off his boots, butted his cigarette in the ashtray, and sat his guitar down.
Then he closed his eyes and waited.
When the last chime sounded, the tingling sensation took over his body, starting in his fingers and toes and spreading inward. It wasn’t altogether unpleasant, more like becoming weightless and floating on a fluffy white cloud, but it felt weird all the same.
Within seconds, the transformation was complete. As was customary, he stepped to the mirror and sought out his reflection. It was always the same. He was an apparition, the thing that went bump in the night. Just a figment of a very overactive imagination. Although people couldn’t see him unless he wanted them to, he sure as hell could see, hear, and feel everything around him as if he were whole.
But he wasn’t whole. From midnight until the first light of a new day, Dominic was a ghost.
At the first peek of the sun over the horizon, Dominic felt the tingling sensation begin in his fingertips. He threw his head back and closed his eyes, welcoming the gift of life the new day brought with it. Slowly, he began to materialize again, becoming whole – becoming a man.
Dominic had spent the night in Kerrigan’s room, although she had no way of knowing that he was there. Just one of the perks to the freakish life he had been cursed with.
She had opted for a shower after her friends left, and in her stupor, hadn’t thought to take a change of clothes to the bathroom with her. He was shocked, to say the least, when Kerrigan stumbled into her room, wearing nothing but a towel. He knew he should have left right away. But then she let the towel fall to the floor, unknowingly exposing her nudity to Dominic, before crashing into bed.
Dominic, being the pervert that he apparently was, stood there and ogled her. He was stunned by her beauty. Plus, he was a dude, so of course he looked. Surely it was against some kind of manhood code of conduct to turn a back to a naked woman. Because he had worked so hard to become an upstanding citizen, he did his civic duty. See? It wasn’t entirely his fault.
Availia was probably rolling over in her grave with disappointment.
It wasn’t until after she fell asleep and began to moan that he finally manned up and left her to her own devices. Yes, it was that kind of moan. Whatever she was dreaming, it was definitely about him because he distinctly heard his name spill from her soft lips. It took a lot of effort on his part, but he still managed to pull himself away from her and go back to his own room.
He could have given her everything she wanted and needed if he were a real man, not just some sort of thing that just wasn’t. But if she knew what he really was, she would probably run from the house screaming before emptying the contents of her stomach onto the front lawn in disgust.
He couldn’t even be the man she needed, the man she deserved.
God damn that bitch Sinclair to Hell. He hoped that sperm donor of his, Drake, was already there with flames roasting his nut sack.
Anger, disappointment and revulsion at his circumstance kept building and building. Dominic swiped his invisible hand over his dresser to take his frustrations out on the inanimate objects, sending them crashing to the floor. He sighed at the mess, but left it alone before he walked through the closed window that led out to his balcony and looked out into the star filled sky. All he wanted was to be human.
All he wanted was the ability to choose.
There was no choice to make where Kerrigan was concerned. He was what he was, and that was that. So, he would remain by her side and do the duty he swore he would. Anything more than that just wasn’t possible.
With a heavy sigh, he climbed back into his room and lay on his bed. He didn’t even bother to attempt to get some sleep, because pent up anger and guilt meant the restfulness that sleep normally provided, just wasn’t going to happen. He punched his pillow in aggravation and sat up. Although he couldn’t sleep, he didn’t exactly want to face Kerrigan either.
He waited in his room for a while, not really sure if he should hide out all day, or if that would just look suspicious. He realized that his paranoia was his own. There was no way that Kerrigan could know what he had done, but it was eating away at him. Fi
nally, he sucked it up and decided he needed to face his own punishment. Because seeing her there, knowing he could never touch her the way he wanted to last night would be the worst sort of torture; his own personal purgatory.
Pushing through his despondency, he changed his clothes and washed up in the bathroom before heading to the kitchen to grab a glass of orange juice.
Kerrigan and Gabe were already there sitting at the table, each of them with a bowl of cereal. Dominic pulled a juice glass out of the cupboard and walked over to the refrigerator and opened it. But the juice was gone.
“Looking for this?” Kerrigan asked with a mouth full of cereal.
Dominic turned to look at her and saw that she was holding out the juice to him as she glanced at him from the corner of her beautiful eyes. She was dressed in a tank top and shorts that looked like they barely covered her ass. He swallowed the lump in his throat, knowing that vision was only going to make it harder to be around her all day.
“Yeah, thanks.” He took the pitcher from her and poured himself a glass before replacing the juice in the refrigerator.
“You’re up awfully early. We don’t usually see you until around noon-ish.”
Dominic shrugged. “Yeah, well I couldn’t sleep. Besides, the lawn needs to be mowed. It’s best to do it before it gets too hot outside.” He took a long gulp of his juice.
“I had fun last night,” Gabe said, taking a drink from his own glass.
“Mmm, me too,” Kerrigan purred with a dreamy look in her eyes.
Dominic choked on his juice at her words. Kerrigan and Gabe looked at him with concern.
“Are you okay, Gummy Bear?” Gabe stood up and patted him on the back.
Dominic waved him off and grabbed a napkin to wipe the juice that had dropped onto his chin. “I’m fine, really,” he said. “Just, um…went down the wrong way, I guess.”
“Yeah, that’s happened to me before, only with cum,” Gabe blurted out as if it was a natural thing to say. “I’m just glad it didn’t shoot out my nose, ‘cause that would’ve been nasty. I’m not particularly fond of blowing spunk out of my nose for a straight twenty-four hours, spank you very much.”
Supernova (Supernova Saga) Page 11
