Available Darkness: Season Two (Episodes 7-12)

by David Wright

  Larry played the message.

  “Larry, it’s Katya. Something’s wrong with Abigail! She’s lying on the floor and can’t get up. I don’t know what to do! I know about her real condition. Call me, please!”

  Oh shit. Abi!

  Larry spun the van in the middle of the street, nearly wrecking it, then raced back to Katya’s.

  **

  Larry was relieved to see Katya’s car in the parking lot. That was a good sign, he tried to convince himself. If an ambulance had taken Abigail away, Katya probably would’ve followed along.

  Unless they let her go in the ambulance with her — she is a kid, and Katya might insist. Say she’s family.

  Larry hated how his mind always found a negative follow-up for every what-if.

  Relax, everything is good. Do you see any signs that something shitty went down?

  The apartment complex was quiet. The night air was cool, and the rain had stopped. There were no sirens or police laying tape.

  Larry parked in a handicapped spot and raced from the van, up the stairs, and to the second floor of the four story apartment building.

  He went to Katya’s door and knocked.

  It was late, but he figured Abigail would be awake — if she’s OK.

  Stop thinking negatively.

  The pit in his stomach tightened as the knock went unanswered.

  He pounded against the door, harder and louder.

  No response.

  He tried the doorknob, but it was locked.

  Larry pulled a Starbucks plastic gift card from his wallet, slid it between the door and doorjamb, then bent the card and forced the lock back as he pressed his weight against the door.

  The door popped open to a darkened room.

  Larry turned on the light and wished he hadn’t.

  Oh God.

  Katya’s body was reduced to a withered husk.

  No, no, no, what happened?

  “Abi!” he called out.

  No response.

  Shit.

  Larry called her name again and again as he ran through her home.

  Abigail was gone.

  TO BE CONTINUED…

  EPISODE 12:

  CHAPTER 1 — Jacob

  Jacob sat cross-legged at the top of a wooded hill, alone beneath a fat moon, staring down at Duncan Alderman’s house as it was swallowed by flames in the distance. Walls of brilliant orange curled against the bright white wood — a stark contrast against the pitch black behind it, and all the dancing stars above.

  Soon, the world would burn with a million fires.

  His kind would come to claim Earth as its own, and its people as the livestock they were. Some would be spared — those deemed worthy of evolution to join his race, the Valkoer. But most on Earth were unworthy of the honor — ignorant, petty, violent, tiny-minded creatures who sickened Jacob to his core. It was they who would be cast to the ghettos, and serve as cattle for the elite as nature intended.

  Why the Pioneers, who came to this godforsaken world so long ago, decided to spare the humans their appropriate fate, was beyond Jacob’s understanding. He had thought he would invite the Pioneers to join him, but in further reflection, decided not to. They deserved to be shackled to the humans’ fate.

  They had been weakened by their time with humans. They’d grown fond of humans, thinking them worthy, and in exchange, like a person who takes in too many animals, eventually, they were weakened for their efforts. Perhaps they devolved from Humkoer to human. Jacob would be making no such mistakes, however. For him, it was about evolution of the species, and evolution of himself above all.

  It was nearly time. He had two of the six crystals — just three more to get before he would have the power of the Last Great Wizard. Then, the walls would crumble, and Earth would be ripe for the plucking.

  Jacob’s mouth curled into a smile, lighting his face as he watched waves of flame devour Duncan’s grand estate, a monument to misplaced arrogance. Duncan and his Guardians were trying to stop nature, not unlike how their Otherworld counterparts, the Humkoer, the ruling class who had tried to eradicate the Valkoer. On his home world, his kind were at a disadvantage. Here, Jacob’s people were the top of the food chain.

  Humans had no clue what they were in for.

  He couldn’t wait to prove his father’s trust in him, to present him with the greatest gift a son could offer, a world for the taking — an opportunity for the King to lead his people to a new era where they were the superiors, free from the Humkoers’ persecution and ghettos.

  Jacob smiled wider.

  He held the crystals in a black velvet pouch, and could feel their vibration intensifying. Jacob turned to Mr. Dark as the man appeared behind him on the hill holding a pouch like Jacob’s. “Sir, Elim has returned with three of the crystals.”

  “Ah,” Jacob said, smiling and rising from his spot in the grass.

  Mr. Dark handed the pouch to Jacob, who opened it and looked inside. These crystals, like the others, were glowing bright red. They were vibrating too, as if they sensed the proximity of their brothers. Perhaps they did. If the crystals contained the soul of a powerful wizard, wouldn’t they be sentient?

  Jacob looked up at the thief standing a good distance from Mr. Dark, and nodded a thank you.

  “Pay him,” Jacob said, and returned to his seat in the grass.

  As he sat, the crystals hummed, lightly shaking in their pouches. Jacob opened one of the bags to look inside and was surprised when the crystals hopped out from the bag and hung suspended, hovering in the air as if held by tiny filaments. He opened the bag given to him by Mr. Dark, then watched as the other three crystals flew out, joining the others in midair, five crystals in squared formation, with one floating in the center.

  They began to glow brighter and then, to Jacob’s surprise, moved closer to one another. He thought about stopping the movement, then thought better.

  Who am I to interfere with nature?

  The crystals began to shift into place like a puzzle piecing itself together, brightening as the individuals fused into a single glowing sphere of crimson; an almost perfect circle, save for the missing piece.

  The sphere hummed, a vibration so low you could barely hear it, though Jacob could feel it in the depths of his soul.

  He felt his power emanating, and without even thinking about what he was doing, reached out to brush the sphere with his fingers. They wrapped around the sphere, and an almost violent energy exploded through him, even stronger than the last crystal had delivered — raw, powerful, and perhaps everlasting.

  It felt as if Jacob was somehow able to tap into and harness the power of a sun.

  He closed his eyes and savored the moment, feeling as if the stars were aligned to shine on his destiny. It was his time to conquer this world. He felt something else, too, something he’d not even recognized within himself until the moment the sphere shined its light into the darkest recesses of his brain.

  Jacob didn’t just want to save his people, he wanted to finally prove himself worthy of his father’s love. The father who had always mourned the sons he’d lost, John and Caleb, and who had treated Jacob like less than flesh and blood. Jacob was always an embarrassment to his father. Not any longer, and never again.

  All he needed was the final crystal, then nothing could stop him.

  Where is it?

  The sphere responded to his wonder, showing him a vision of the woman with the crystal — Hope.

  Then it showed Jacob where she was.

  He opened his eyes, and gazed upon the fire consuming Duncan’s estate. It was but a signal fire, a portent of what was to come.

  Yes, soon, the world will burn.

  * * * *

  CHAPTER 2 — John

  John opened his eyes to total darkness, on his feet and ready to fight by the second blink.

  He was in a small holding cell with a cot, a toilet, and a door. He closed his eyes trying to feel where he was.

  John was in the Buil
ding, a 12-story office building the FBI had sanctioned exclusively for Omega’s use. The ninth and tenth floors were devoted to a secret prison which no one other than the highest security clearances knew existed. Not even prisoners knew where they had been taken. They arrived with drugged heads stuffed in thick black sacks, just as John was sure he had. They left, if they were lucky enough to leave alive, the same way.

  John’s cell had both a camera and speaker system used to monitor the prisoner, and a row of lights behind thick bullet-resistant glass. Like the lights at Cromwell’s, they were designed to kill his kind.

  “Why am I in here?” John shouted, looking up at the camera.

  A few moments later, Mike Mathews’ voice came over the speaker.

  Mathews said, “Hello, John. I’ll be with you shortly.” Then, after 10 minutes, the metal door slid open, and Mathews stepped into the room. He was wearing his field uniform, covered head to toe in black, and an enclosed helmet with speakers on the side — designed to protect him from John’s touch. He had no weapon.

  The door closed.

  “What the hell is going on?” John asked.

  “I’d like to ask you the same thing. One minute you were storming into Shadow’s hotel room, and the next you two were gone,” Mathews’ voice said through the speakers. The man’s visor was thick black, but John didn’t need to see through to know that Mathews’ cold stare was fixed on him.

  “What are you saying?” John asked, knowing exactly what the he was implying.

  “I’d like to know how you two escaped.”

  “We didn’t escape. He took me against my will, through a portal.”

  “A portal?”

  “Yes,” John said.

  “How the hell did he create a portal? Is he working with Jacob?”

  “I don’t know. But it wasn’t the kind which travels between worlds. It brought us from the hotel to somewhere else, some place he had set up, a well in the middle of some field.”

  “So, you just teleported, then?” Mathews asked skeptically.

  “Do you have another explanation for how we got out of there?”

  Mathews was silent, until he said, “Did you, or your Shadow friend, kill Duncan Alderman?”

  “Shadow’s not my friend. And no,” John said, knowing he probably should have acted surprised to learn of Duncan’s death. It was too late.

  “Why did you kill Cromwell?”

  John swallowed.

  I knew we shouldn’t have left his wife alive. Shit.

  “Well?” Mathews said, tapping his foot.

  “It was an accident.”

  “That’s not what Cromwell’s wife said. She said you were there looking for information. Specifically, you were looking for Hope. Tell me, John, why would you be looking for Hope? You know we have our eye on her, and that everything is fine and she is safe so long as you cooperate. So why were you searching? Were you planning on putting an end to our arrangement?”

  John wanted to tell him she was in danger, but couldn’t tell Mathews that Hope was a vessel. If he did, Mathews would drag her in, might even order her killed to prevent Jacob from getting the crystal.

  John told Mathews the closest thing to the truth he could afford.

  “Jacob’s back, and he knows my weakness is Hope. He will target her, and though you, and some others, are top-notch agents, I can’t say the same for everyone in the FBI. You can’t guarantee her safety; I can.”

  Mathews leaned closer, probably trying to read John’s truthfulness through the visor’s scanners.

  Mathews said something, but not to John. “Send Skinner in.”

  Skinner was the son of an Otherworlder, a gifted Halfworlder with powers to probe people’s minds. He’d been co-opted to work for Omega to avoid detention. Supposedly, he had taken to the task of betraying his kind with glee, though there were plenty, such as Shadow, who accused John of the same thing.

  The door opened, and Skinner stepped inside. He was tall, thin, and a nightmare’s worth of creepy, with closely cropped, jet-black hair and dark circles ringing cavernous eyes. He looked to be in his fifties, but John figured he had to be at least a century older.

  “Not too close,” Mathews said, warning Skinner to avoid John’s touch.

  “I know,” Skinner said in a light German accent.

  Mathews said, “Find out what he’s hiding.”

  John tried not to appear nervous. It was possible that Skinner couldn’t probe him, in which case John might be able to escape further interrogation.

  “OK,” Skinner said, closing his eyes.

  Instantly, John felt the man’s touch as if he were laying fingers inside his skull, probing for fault lines in his brain. John erected psychic barriers inside his mind, keeping his defenses high and hiding Hope’s secret inside.

  Mathews said, “So, what was your plan, John? Find Hope and run away together, live happily ever after while Jacob went about killing whomever he wanted? Was that it?”

  John knew what Mathews was trying to do — distract him with discussion so he couldn’t maintain his defenses. John was far too skilled in psychic warfare, able to carry on full conversations while fending off attempted intrusions for Mathews’ tactics to matter.

  “I hadn’t thought it out that far,” John said. “My priority is keeping Hope safe. After I gave her shelter, I meant to continue tracking Jacob. I will continue.”

  “How do I know you’re not working with him?” Mathews asked.

  “I’m not responding to stupid questions.”

  John continued resisting Skinner’s attempts to break into his mind until finally Skinner turned to Mathews.

  “He’s fighting me.”

  Mathews said, “Oh, is he? Well then, our friend John must have something to hide.”

  “I’m not hiding anything.”

  “Then why don’t you just open wide and let Skinner in?”

  “Sorry,” John said. “I don’t let anyone in my head.”

  “We’ll see about that.” Mathews reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black rectangle — a remote of some sort.

  Mathews thumbed a red button on the remote and the rows of special lights blazed on above.

  John fell to his knees in agony as his skin caught fire from inside. “Stop!” he screamed.

  Mathews clicked off the lights. John stayed on his knees, body shaking in torment and pain. Skinner had shattered the thinnest wall at the edge of his defenses. John clenched his fists and squeezed his eyes tight trying to repel him, but the burning rotted his ability to fight.

  Skinner was in.

  John felt the man seize upon the information he was most trying to hide. And then Skinner was out.

  As his pain receded, John watched as the crimson skin on his arms slowly started to heal.

  Skinner turned to Mathews, “He’s searching for vessels — people with crystals stuck in their flesh. Five crystals which contain the soul of the Last Great Wizard from Otherworld. The person who pieces them together controls the wizard’s power. Jacob is hunting the vessels, then killing them to get the crystals. Hope is on the list.”

  John glared at Skinner, wanting to sink his fingers into the bastard’s flesh.

  “Thank you,” Mathews said. “You’re excused.”

  “Yes, sir,” Skinner nodded, the German accent crisp on his lips. He left the room, not daring to meet John’s stare.

  Mathews stepped closer to John, looking down at him, almost daring him to make a move. John considered it, but the man’s finger was on the button, and the man had grown sadistic enough to fry him just for laughs.

  “So, that’s why you want to find Hope. It’s all so perfectly clear now. Interesting.”

  “You have to bring her here,” John said. “If Jacob gets to her, he will kill her.”

  “Yes, yes, good idea,” Mathews said. “She should be here.”

  Mathews fell several steps from John, then said into the radio in his helmet, “Get me Agent Overton.” Moments
later, Mathews was talking to Agent Overton, instructing him to bring Hannah to The Building. “If she resists in any way, kill her immediately.”

  John went to strike, but wasn’t fast enough. Mathews pushed the button again, flooding the room with lethal light and sending John back to the floor in crippling pain.

  Mathews clicked the lights off, then leaned down to John and calmly said, “Your free ride is finished, John. You had exactly two friends in the Agency looking out for you, and, as it so happens, both Duncan and Cromwell are now dead. That means a new boss. Are you familiar with Bernard Walsh? He’s now in charge of The Guardians, and unlike his predecessor, Walsh understands that this job leaves zero room for misplaced sentimentality.”

  John rode out the pain, rocking back and forth on the floor as Mathews continued. “None of this would have happened if Duncan had done the right thing when it had to be done. But I assure you, John, you will not see me making the same mistake. When it’s time to choose between one life and millions, I won’t falter.”

  John forced himself into action through the pain. He tried to reach out, but his attempt fell pathetically short.

  Mathews stepped away from John, as if trying to evade a swatting old cat. “Goodbye, John. I’d like to say it was great working with you, but we both know that would be a lie.”

  Mathews left just as John managed to stand.

  The door closed and locked.

  John wondered why Mathews hadn’t simply killed him, and figured he either still needed him alive, or Mathews wasn’t able to make the call for John’s death — yet.

  There was also a third option: Mathews thought the torture too fun to end so soon.

  * * * *

  CHAPTER 3 — Hannah

  Hannah was sitting on the couch in the apartment where she and Greg were sequestered, trying to relax despite her frayed nerves, when Greg got a call from his bosses. He left the apartment to take it. She pressed her back into the cushions, waiting through the anxiety that sat like lead in her stomach.