Dark Genesis (The Darkling Trilogy, Book 1)

by Koboah, A D

  I got to my feet uneasily, knowing that I needed to get away from the chapel immediately. Something was very wrong here. The light was nearly gone now and there was something here with me. I could feel it now, an immense power unfolding and drawing strength as the last of the light seeped out of the sky.

  Terror beat furiously within me, radiating to my very core. Mama Akosua had been right. I shouldn’t have come here. I was in danger, I...

  Intoxicating dizziness washed over me again and although I tried to fight against its pull it drew me in, causing me to close my eyes and sway in time to its suffocating rhythm...

  And then I was standing at the kitchen door of the main house, having walked through the woods from the chapel and back to the house with no memory of the journey.

  But no. That is not what happened. I didn’t go to the chapel today, my mind insisted. Mr Walker dropped me off and I walked back to the house through the woods.

  Except...

  I never walked through the woods. I always ran, and when I parted company with the farmer the sky had blazed red as the sun set but it was dark now. The sun couldn’t have fully set within the five minutes it would have taken me to reach the house. But that is what had happened, wasn’t it?

  I tried to probe deeper and remember but my mind resisted and, almost as if someone had pushed me forward, I found myself stumbling toward the kitchen door. I opened it and stepped inside.

  Mary the cook, a short, thin copper-coloured woman with hazel eyes and a kind-looking face, had been cleaning the last of the dishes from the evening meal. When she turned and saw me standing in the doorway she smiled and relief melted over her features.

  “Luna! Thank the Lord. Mistress Emily was just asking ’bout you.” She frowned. “What happened to your head?”

  I reached up and touched my forehead. When my hand came away, my fingertips were sticky with blood.

  “Well?” she demanded.

  The image of a sleek black rock glistening with water came to mind and was swiftly pushed aside.

  “I’s running and I guess I...I...”

  I stopped because I couldn’t remember what had happened to my forehead, and although I reached for the memory, there was something about it that made my insides curl and twist in horror.

  Mary’s frown deepened.

  She had been looking after me since I was about three. She used to tell me that when Mama Akosua was sold I had been inconsolable and used to stand outside the slave quarters at sunset calling for her. When it slowly dawned on me that she wasn’t amongst those returning to their cabins and I grew more and more distressed, thirteen-year-old Mary was the only one able to stop me from trying to go out into the night to find her. Even then I spent most of the night crying and Mary would stay with me in what used to be my and Mama’s cabin so that my wails did not keep the rest of her family awake. She did this every night and would go off to work exhausted, only to return and spend the next night trying to comfort me as I stood at the window crying whilst I watched and waited for my lost mother to return to me.

  After about two weeks I resigned myself to the fact that Mama Akosua was not coming back and I started to scream and cry every time Mary tried to leave me in the mornings. So she had no choice but to take me with her whenever she went to work in the house, warning me that if I got her into trouble she would give me the biggest beating of my life, something I doubt the soft-hearted Mary would have done. I didn’t remember any of this. But I could imagine the wide-eyed, sullen child I was as I followed Mary around. And I suppose Mary would always see me as that inconsolable three-year-old clinging to her skirts because she had never stopped mothering me.

  “You gots to be careful now, Luna.” Zila, one of the other house slaves, had come into the kitchen.

  She was a reed-thin, high yellow mulatto who had birdlike features and a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. She regarded me icily, looking over every inch of me, and finding nothing wanting, there was undisguised agony in her eyes when they met mine. “You don’t wants nothing to ruin that pretty face of yours.”

  It occurred to me that she would have been delirious with joy if I had come back with my face ripped to shreds by that rock.

  I frowned. Face ripped apart by a rock? What rock? What an odd thing to think.

  “Why you acting so strange? And what that be on your dress?” Mary asked, pulling me from my thoughts.

  I looked down at my dress and brushed away bits of earth from around my waist. How had that gotten there?

  “There be some on your face too.” Mary was nothing if not relentless. “What is wrong with you, girl?”

  “I’s fine,” I mumbled. But the truth is I wasn’t fine. I felt sort of dazed. “You go on upstairs. I’s gonna finish up down here,” I said, taking a large tray out of her hands.

  She gave me one last questioning look then shook her head and left the kitchen.

  I finished off the rest of my work and went back to my quarters, a small soulless one-room cabin with only a bed, a wooden barrel that held a lonely beeswax candle, a basket for my few items of clothing, and some bowls for water.

  I mixed up the herbs Mama Akosua had given me, drank the bitter mixture and lay down on my pallet. I closed my eyes, expecting the pain to start biting as it always did almost immediately after I drank it. But tonight, the moment I felt the first stabbing pains in my womb, I felt everything waver and then the pain disappeared and a warm mellow joy filled me. I drifted toward sleep with a smile, and before I succumbed to its blissful depths, I thought I heard a voice whisper in my mind.

  Goodnight...Luna.

  “Good...”

  I was asleep before I could finish saying the words.

  The following day would turn out to be the strangest day of my life.

  Chapter Four

  I woke up the following morning in my airless little cabin suppressing a scream. For a moment I was convinced there was something prowling out there in the predatory predawn darkness and that this “something” was watching and waiting.

  But the next moment the feeling had gone and a low giggle escaped my lips. I clamped my hand over my mouth, bewildered by this sudden onslaught of unexplained mirth but the laughter continued like air bubbles rising to the surface of a lake, and before I knew it, I was completely lost to it. When it finally began to subside, I felt an odd sense of joy begin to flow through me like cool water. For some reason I thought of the chapel and the feeling intensified until I felt almost delirious with the force of the emotion.

  But somewhere beneath all of that elation, deep down within, I felt profoundly uneasy. The sensation was small and weak, however, like a seed trying to push its way up through packed earth and the happiness soon trampled it out of sight.

  So after my usual breakfast of fried fat pork and cornbread, I began my day and floated through the morning in a heady state of happiness, a soft distant smile never leaving my lips. Nothing could disrupt the feeling of wellbeing; not the puzzled glances I received from those I encountered, not even Mistress Emily’s acid tongue. When she sent me into the blazing heat to collect water from the well on the other side of the plantation (even though we always used the one at the back of the house), I had obeyed without grumbling. I actually didn’t mind the extra work as, for some strange reason, I felt strong and energised. Normally Mama’s potions left me weak and bleeding profusely, but today I felt alive like I’d never felt before, and apart from a few clots of blood, there was no sign of the heavy flow that normally accompanied these abortions.

  The only thing that came close to disrupting my quiet joy that day was Master John’s return from his trip. I saw him in the distance with his brother Master Peter and he had dismounted to speak to Lola, one of the young field slaves. I felt disgust when I noticed that, as young as she was, Master John’s eyes stayed firmly on her chest and the small bosom, which had only just began to blossom, whilst he spoke to her. She wasn’t where she was supposed to be and I knew he would aut
omatically assume she was trying to cheat him out of a day’s work, so I wasn’t surprised when he gestured for her to get to her knees. When she was on all fours like a dog, he ignored her desperate wide-eyed, pleas and began beating her across the back with his rawhide riding whip.

  I was close to the three of them now, although out of their sightline, and could see the sweat on Master John’s brow and that his face had turned a fierce shade of pink from the exertion of the beating. Holding onto his horse with one hand, he used the other to steady himself as he lustily brought the riding whip down on her back repeatedly. He also had a hard smile on his face as he put all of his strength into the blows he delivered. The low, monotonous tone of Lola’s voice drifted to me on the still air as the whip came down.

  “Please, Massa, please! Oh, Massa!”

  I caught a glimpse of Master Peter’s expression as he sat on his horse watching his older brother and for a moment I thought I saw disapproval in the set of his features. But I was no doubt mistaken. He was probably bored and impatient for them to be on their way.

  Beatings like that, and worse, were a daily occurrence on the plantation, but they still had the power to leave me shaken and feeling sick to my stomach. But today I remained strangely unaffected by what I was seeing, even when Master John told Lola to pull up her clothes and lie face down on the ground with her skirts bunched up under her arms. He began hitting her across her bare legs and back and the sounds she made grew a lot more distressing to listen to.

  “Oh, oh, please, Massa! Please, no more! Oh God, Massa! Please stop, Massa!” she screamed as the whip came down again and again. The sound of the blows eventually stopped but the sobbing and groaning continued until they were swallowed up by the distance my slow easy steps placed between us.

  I filled the pails with water, my thoughts drawn back to the chapel, and began to make my way back to the house, stopping half-way to rest my aching arms and wipe the sweat from my brow. I was about to pick up the pails of water and resume my journey when I heard a soft, silky voice behind me.

  “My dear Luna.”

  I straightened immediately. The smile that had been glued to my face all day wavered and then disappeared.

  I turned to face the man with the shoulder-length blond hair, blue eyes and smooth boyish features, and was immediately filled with repugnance. Everyone thought he was handsome, even the slaves grudgingly admitted as much. But he would always be repulsive to me.

  “Massa,” I mumbled.

  The anxiety that always arose in me whenever he was near was strangely absent today. I felt calm and regarded him with coolness instead of the fear and loathing that I had never managed to hide from him. He noticed the difference in me immediately and I could tell he didn’t like it because his smile faded.

  “How I’ve missed you, Luna,” he said.

  Instead of answering, I bent to pick up the heavy pails of water. His riding whip came crashing down on one of the handles, missing my fingers purely by luck. I froze as he brought his hand up again and the whip came down sharply on my shoulder.

  “Up!”

  I did as he commanded, the flesh on my shoulder smarting even though the blow had not been anywhere near as hard as those Lola had endured. When I met his gaze, mine was steady and calm.

  “I said I’ve missed you,” he said, tracing the tip of his riding whip along my cheek and down my neck. I stayed silent even though I knew he expected me to say I had missed him too, something I normally would have said to avoid his anger. But not today.

  When the reply he wanted didn’t come, he grabbed my chin and searched my face with those cruel, icy blue eyes other women seemed to find so appealing.

  “You’re different somehow,” he said. “I could see that from across the field.” He waited. “Well, say something.”

  When I didn’t answer he roughly pushed my face away and smiled derisively.

  “No matter. I’ll find out all I need to find out tonight, won’t I?”

  Again he expected my usual reaction of poorly concealed fear and hatred, but I merely stood with my hands in front of me and regarded him coolly. His smile quickly disappeared and his face turned a livid shade of red.

  He made as if to move away, then spun round and shoved me. I struggled in vain to stay on my feet but fell onto my knees as he kicked over the pails of water it had taken me so long to carry up the hill. With a satisfied smirk, he walked away, only to stop again.

  “I’m sorry, Luna. I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t intend on letting you get much sleep tonight so you’ll need to conserve your strength.”

  He waited for a response but didn’t get one, so he carried on talking.

  “I can see I’m going to enjoy getting to know the new you. I think I’ll bring this with me,” he said looking at his rawhide whip. “It will make things that much more fun.”

  He laughed and walked away for good this time.

  As I watched him stride off, a small part of me screamed in anger and dread at what was likely to happen come nightfall. But the dominant part of me didn’t feel any of those negative emotions, only the clear certainty that Master John would soon be dead.

  The image of the chapel came to me again and it was like hearing a particularly sweet melody from a distance and wanting to follow that sound to its source. I wanted to be there now, in fact every part of me ached to forget my work for the afternoon and run to the chapel.

  Reluctantly, I picked up the two empty pails and when I started back the way I had come, it was as if I hadn’t run into Master John, even though I could still see him walking away, his fury as palpable as the shimmering heat every time he glanced back over his shoulder at me.

  All I wanted was to be at my chapel, but I had to be patient. If I worked hard I could be there at sunset. The thought made me almost giddy with anticipation and I found myself singing softly as I walked back down to the well.

  There was one other thing I knew with that peculiar certainty and it was that Zila was standing behind one of the trees watching me. I knew Mary had told her to go and help me carry the water back to the house and that she had seen Master John jump off his horse and hurry down the hill toward me, something that had filled her with rage. I didn’t know where this knowledge came from, but I knew she had lain with him many times in the past, and that she loved him. That was why she hated me as much as she did. She blamed me for the fact that Master John took absolutely no notice of her nowadays.

  Poor Zila. How she could love a brute like him was beyond my comprehension, but she did, and deeply. That sad, sweet lullaby came to me again and I walked faster.

  Soon. I would be there around the time the sun began to set.

  ***

  The moment I had spent most of the day pining for had come, but as I walked through the trees toward the chapel, I could feel a growing apprehension. I walked quickly, driven forward by a need that bordered on pain. But that deepening dread was fighting its way up through the melody that had kept me in thrall all day, and when I stepped through the trees and into the clearing, that feeling intensified to the point that I almost turned and fled.

  Something propelled me onward and I ran across the clearing to the chapel door and threw myself through it. I knew something waited for me at the altar even before I was through the door and as I raced up the aisle, the fear that had been pushing to get through had all but consumed me.

  What I found on the altar made no sense at all. I saw books. Brand new books. I also saw a beautiful jade green dress of the finest cloth I had ever seen in my life. There were also a few items of jewellery lying there: a gold chain with a large ruby hanging like a giant drop of blood from its centre, and diamond earrings. All of this was carefully laid out on the altar. For me.

  As I looked at the bewildering sight before my eyes, I felt something loosen and fall away from me, leaving my mind unbound for the first time that day. Images began to flood me then. Images of being at the chapel the day before and kneeling by the stream with
the jagged black rock held above my head.

  Oh my God!

  My stomach curled sickeningly when I thought about what I had come close to doing and I brought my fingertips up to my forehead, but there was no sign of the cut. I began to tremble as an overwhelming sense of danger as sharp and clear as the chiming of bells filled my mind.

  I told you to stay away from that place.

  That was Mama Akosua’s voice, faint but clear in my head, and with my senses and mind in such a heightened state of awareness, I knew it was really her I was hearing. Just as it had been the night before when I ran through the trees.

  “Yes. You sure did,” I whispered, not knowing if she could somehow hear me.

  I took a step away from the objects that had been placed on the altar for me.

  Run.

  I whirled around and began walking swiftly down the aisle. I didn’t doubt the fact that I was in danger but I knew it was already too late to run. So I walked out of the chapel into the burnt gold of the setting sun, hoping that if I appeared unaware of its presence it would let me go.

  I was halfway toward the trees when the atmosphere in the clearing, the very air seemed to change and I came to an abrupt stop, frozen by a presence, the shadow Mama Akosua had referred to.

  It felt as if there was a powerful force emanating from behind me. It swept through the clearing causing a powerful shiver to ripple through me. It was so strong that it was almost like a throbbing heartbeat saturating everything from the aged bricks of the chapel to every single blade of grass beneath my feet. Yet nothing had actually changed physically around me. It was only what my now “open” mind could detect.

  I tried to stay calm but my heart was racing and my breathing came out hard and fast as I pondered what to do next.

  Knowing I could do nothing but face this thing, this evil, head-on, I turned around.