Born of Darkness

by Rita Vetere

  She had cause to recall the strange incident the following morning in Lit class when an announcement came over the intercom that Sharon McGillivray and Brendon Walker had both died on the previous day. After watching the news reports, Jasmine learned both teens had died at the same time, in unrelated incidents—right around the time Jasmine had returned from school to find her aunt cleaning the sidewalk. The information had caused her to start shaking uncontrollably. I did that. I made it happen. But how? What did I do? She didn't know, but it had scared her so badly, she'd not been able to go to school for a week. After that, she'd been extremely careful about controlling her emotions when someone angered or disappointed her.

  Returning her thoughts to the present, she discovered she'd arrived at Bayshore and stopped at the stone balustrade to look out at the ocean lapping at the shore. A bright moon lit up the night sky, reflecting off the inky surface of the water. The deepest part of night was her very favorite time, the only time she felt really alive, and she often wondered why this should be so, and why the dead of night held such fascination for her. Maybe it was because the most ordinary daytime objects took on such an alien quality in the middle of the night, reflecting her own feeling of being somehow different. The darkness felt familiar to her, as if this was the reality, and daylight the illusion. A sense of loneliness washed over her and she sighed, wondering if she'd always feel so out of step with the rest of the world.

  As she looked out over the moonlit water, a strange doubling-over took place in her thoughts. The moon suddenly appeared unfamiliar, the shore foreign. As if from far away, strains of mystic-sounding music reached her, and for a second, she caught the scent of animals. Jasmine shook her head to clear it, and all returned to normal. Smiling at her fanciful nature, she turned away from the water and resumed walking.

  Continuing along Bayshore, she turned the corner at South Orleans. She loved the old neighborhood and the picture-pretty house she and Aunt Dora shared. Large old trees flanked both sides of the avenue. The scent of gardenia from one of the yards filled the night air as she walked along. Many of the houses had stood in the same spot for over a century, a couple of them dating back to the 1800s. About halfway down the street, she pulled open the front gate set into the white picket fence surrounding her house. All was quiet as she moved along the walkway to the long porch fronting the large clapboard house. Aunt Dora had left the outside light on for her, and she entered, using her key.

  Before she got halfway up the stairs, Aunt Dora's voice floated up to her from the living room and Jasmine trotted back down, resigning herself to yet another confrontation with her aunt.

  "It's late, Jasmine. Almost four-thirty."

  Jasmine found her aunt reclined on the large chaise-lounge in the living room, a book on the table beside her, and wearing the silky blue robe she favored. Her thick, silver-and-gold hair tumbled loosely in waves around her shoulders. Jasmine thought how her Aunt, now in her fifties, was still a beautiful woman, and wondered once again why she had never married. “I was just hanging out with some friends,” she said, keeping her tone casual.

  "I didn't hear a car pull up. How did you get home?"

  "I, uh, well, I walked. It wasn't far."

  "Jasmine.” Her aunt's face was painted with disapproval. “We've talked and talked about this. It's not safe to walk the streets alone at this hour of the night. It's no wonder I wait up for you to get home. And don't think I can't see that you've had too much to drink."

  "Aunt Dora, I can take care of myself,” she said, trying hard not to slur her words. The effects of the alcohol she had consumed earlier had not completely dissipated. “You don't need to worry about me. I'm a grown woman now. I'll be twenty-one next week."

  * * * *

  Dora sighed. Tired, she didn't feel like engaging in the ritual argument with her niece.

  "Twenty-one,” she said, almost to herself. Her disapproval melted a little as she turned back to Jasmine. How the girl reminded her of Lilli. If possible, Jasmine was even more exquisite than Lilli had been at the same age. She had inherited Lilli's golden wavy mane, as well as her tall, slim build and intense jade eyes; eyes which, against her sunkissed complexion, sparkled like emeralds.

  "You're thinking how much she looked like me,” Jasmine said.

  Dora stared at her niece, startled out of her reverie. Having raised the girl, she should not have been surprised that Jasmine had articulated her exact thought, but at times the girl's ability to practically read her mind still took her unawares. She stood up and tied her robe closer around her.

  "Yes ... she was very much like you. Beautiful. A bit of a rebel when she was your age, also like you. Until she met your father. Charlie was good for her.” Dora paused, remembering how happy her sister had been before Charlie died. “It will be the same for you, I imagine. Someone will come along and make you feel complete, and you won't feel the need to swim so hard against the current anymore."

  Jasmine suddenly moved toward her and hugged her, hard. It was a rare moment, one of the few times she felt truly connected to her wayward niece.

  "G'night Aunt Dora."

  "More like ‘good morning'. Get some sleep now."

  Dora watched Jasmine as she took the stairs, and asked herself once again whether she had done a good enough job of raising her. Had she loved her enough? So much about Jasmine remained an enigma to Dora. Even as a young child, she'd seemed so different from other children. Nothing Dora had ever been able to put her finger on, but there was just something about the girl that set her apart from others, an aloneness that often translated into aloofness.

  As Jasmine grew older, the two of them had found themselves at cross purposes more often than not. She remembered the way her niece had displayed no embarrassment in asking about contraceptives when she'd turned sixteen, and all the sleepless nights Dora had endured—especially after the humiliating incident of the sidewalk graffiti. More recently, Dora's disapproval centered on Jasmine's lifestyle, the constant late nights and drinking. And tonight, the way she had hugged her, like she was desperate for love. Didn't she know how much she was loved?

  Dora remained staring after her niece disappeared up the stairs. The feeling that Jasmine was headed for disaster had been strong lately, although she couldn't say why exactly. Perhaps it was just that Jasmine so closely resembled Lilli now, causing Dora to connect her sister's terrible fate with the child. Dora had always been vigilant with Jasmine, never having gotten over her guilt at having left Lilli alone on the night of her death, yet her efforts were more often than not in vain. She's not Lilli. Nothing will happen to her. Then, reminding herself that she had always done her very best for the girl, she followed her niece upstairs to try to get a couple of hours sleep.

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  Chapter 6

  Tom Janzen sat in his air conditioned office on the fifth floor of the medical center, staring absently out the window at the pedestrians on the street below. A moment later, he swiveled back to face his desk, and looked again at the file folder containing information about the patient he'd just finished with, Melody Wynn. Mrs. Wynn's husband had been transferred to Tampa from Atlanta. In the last trimester of her pregnancy, she had asked for a referral to a good obstetrician in the area and had been given his name. Wasting no time, she'd booked her appointment with him immediately upon arriving in the city, and he'd just finished his examination of her.

  His hand trembled as he closed the folder. Seeing Mrs. Wynn had shaken him up badly. Something about the woman—her hair, the lilt in her voice when she greeted him, something—had made him feel like he'd seen a ghost. An old wound had been re-opened, causing almost-forgotten pain to return with a vengeance. All because she reminded him of another woman, one whom he had loved deeply. One who had chosen someone else over him.

  He thought he had dispelled the aching memory of Lilli long ago, but as the past came rushing back at him like a train wreck, he realized some feelings could never be erased, only
buried. He remembered the sad look on her beautiful face the day she told him she was in love with someone else...

  "I'm so sorry, Tom. I never meant to hurt you. I didn't mean for this to happen, but it has. I love Charlie. He's asked me to marry him ... and I've said yes."

  He wants to tell her that this man who had taken her from him will never love her as much he does. He wants to yell, or punch a hole through the wall to dispel some of the anger that has sprung up in him. In the end, he does neither. Because he loves her. He knows he loves her because he wants only for her to be happy.

  "If this is what you want, if you're sure he makes you happy, marry him."

  After she leaves, he takes the engagement ring he had planned to give her from his bedroom dresser and looks at it long and hard before putting it away, knowing exactly what he has lost.

  Having lost her to another man had been bad enough. But in a cruel twist of fate, three years later, she had returned to him, seeking his help. For all his trying, he'd not been able to stop what had happened to her. She died. And a part of him had died with her.

  He sat with his elbows propped on the desk in front of him, his head resting in his hands, remembering how tormented Lilli had been the last time he'd seen her, the morning she'd arrived on his doorstep seeking help...

  One look at her wraith-like figure when he opens the door tells him something terrible has happened to her. Her heartbreaking beauty is still apparent, only slightly diminished by the gaunt look of her face and her too-pale skin. Yet, it's her eyes he notices the most. The eyes that once sparked emerald fire stare at him, flat and emotionless.

  Haunted eyes.

  The shock must have registered on his face because, in a quiet voice, she says, “I know what I look like.” Lowering her head as she stands on his doorstep, she asks if she can come inside.

  "Lilli,” he stutters. “Of course. Come in."

  When she's settled in the comfortable chair in his living room and sipping on the glass of water he brings to her, she says, “I know I have no right to be here, Tom, but ... I need help. I'm so scared.” Her voice cracks on the last word and the glass of water shakes in her trembling hand.

  "Tell me what's wrong."

  Her face becomes calmer when she hears his words. Then she turns those haunted eyes on him and says, “Do you believe in evil spirits, Tom?"

  He practically jumped out of his skin when Adele buzzed him to say his three o'clock appointment, Ms. Amodeo, was settled in room four.

  Still wrapped up in the memory of his last encounter with Lilli, a premonitory feeling rushed through him. Too much time had gone by since his last excursion downtown, and he resolved to go soon, tonight, if possible. Shaking off the dark shadow of apprehension that had fallen over him, he walked out of his office to see about Patty Amodeo, who was due to deliver next week.

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  Chapter 7

  Jasmine leaned in close to the gold-framed mirror over the dressing table and applied Baby Love lip gloss to her full, well-delineated lips. Then she stepped back to assess the overall effect. Not bad. Silky folds of crimson fabric fell to the top of her slender thighs and the halter-style top of the dress criss-crossed her bosom, revealing the swell of her small, perfect breasts. The soft fabric bounced against her legs as she turned around to admire the cut, which left her lightly-tanned back exposed right down to the waist. Jasmine's hair, freshly washed, fell in shiny golden waves over her smooth shoulders and halfway down her back, partially obscuring the tiny tattoo of a winged demon on her right shoulder. Aunt Dora had been appalled by the tattoo when she'd gotten it last year. Jasmine really didn't know why she'd selected the image of the winged devil, except she'd felt drawn to it. She chose to wear no jewelry, save for the silver infinity ring Aunt Dora had given her for her sixteenth birthday, and which had belonged to Jasmine's mother. Aunt Dora had the twin of that ring; her mother and aunt had purchased them during a trip to New York back in the early seventies.

  Twenty-one! She could barely believe it. Carla and some of her friends from the Blue Flame had arranged something special at Raven's, the trendiest new club in the city. A tiny frown crossed her brow when she realized T.K. would probably show up tonight as well, but she banished the thought immediately. She'd deal with it. Nothing was going to spoil her special night.

  Jasmine glanced at the clock on her nightstand. Ten-thirty. She wasn't due at Raven's until eleven, but she called for a taxi and then went downstairs, intending to spend a few moments with Aunt Dora before leaving. Earlier, her aunt had gone to the trouble of preparing a special birthday dinner, and Jasmine appreciated the gesture, especially given the fact that they'd spoken little over the past couple of days as result of what Aunt Dora termed her carousing. She found her aunt in the kitchen, tidying up.

  Aunt Dora smiled at her as she entered the room, a smile that turned her normally worried expression into one of sweetness.

  "Let me look at you. Absolutely gorgeous."

  Jasmine was relieved Aunt Dora wasn't mad anymore. Perhaps she had intuited that Jasmine's careless demeanor was just her way of masking the isolation she felt. She also noticed that, for once, Aunt Dora had refrained from commenting that her outfit might attract the wrong kind of attention.

  After a slight hesitation, her aunt said, “I have something for you. Something I've been keeping for you."

  Jasmine's face lit up. “Sounds mysterious. What is it?” She followed her aunt to the foot of the stairs.

  "Wait here,” said Dora. “I'll be right down."

  A moment later, Aunt Dora came back downstairs, carrying two parcels wrapped in red paper and bound together with gold satin ribbon. She handed them to Jasmine.

  "These belonged to your mother,” Dora said. “I thought today might be a good day for you to have them."

  Jasmine, who adored opening gifts, became doubly excited to learn her present had come, indirectly at least, from the mother she had never known. She was beginning to develop a real soft spot for Aunt Dora, despite their constant arguments.

  "Open the small one first,” instructed her aunt, as they moved to the living room and sat down next to each other on the sofa.

  "I've never seen this picture before. Where was it taken?” asked Jasmine. The photo showed her father and mother with their arms around one another.

  "During their last trip, at the marketplace in Marrakesh."

  Jasmine said nothing at first as she studied the picture, trying to imagine what her parents had been thinking at the precise moment the snapshot had captured them. They looked so happy and in love. “Thank you, Aunt Dora. This means a lot to me,” she said.

  "I'm glad. Now open the other one."

  Jasmine gasped. The exotic silver pendant looked to be very old. Fashioned more or less in the shape of an elongated cone, about three inches long, the bottom was rounded and two tiny, ancient-looking coins dangled from it. The top of the piece was worked in a lacy pattern with openings. The antique silver gleamed against the black velvet bed of the jewelry case. She lifted it out of the box carefully, surprised by the weight of it.

  "It's beautiful,” she breathed.

  A strange sensation of déjà vu fell over her as she held the necklace in her hand, a feeling of familiarity that seemed to vanish as quickly as it had arrived. Wasting no time, she slipped the pendant around her neck, liking the heavy feel of it against her bosom. She marveled to think her mother had once worn this very same necklace.

  "Thank you, Aunt Dora,” she said, hugging her aunt tightly. For one of the few times in her life, Jasmine actually felt loved and safe. Maybe there was hope for the two of them after all.

  "It's the same one your mother's wearing in the photograph, see?"

  "Oh, Aunt Dora, this is so special,” she said, looking at the photo again and seeing that it was, in fact, identical to the pendant her mother sported in the picture. Perhaps that was the reason the necklace seemed familiar to her. Maybe she'd seen the picture as a c
hild.

  "It looks lovely on you. Happy birthday, Jasmine."

  Jasmine smiled at her aunt, grateful for what she had just done. “Thank you so much for this. It's ... well, it's almost like..."

  "Like your mother is here,” Dora finished for her.

  "Yes."

  Just then, the beep-beep of the taxi horn sounded outside.

  "I'd better be off. My taxi's here. I'll be late I'm sure, so no need to wait up, okay?"

  "Have a good time tonight, but please remember to take a taxi home,” Dora said emphatically.

  "I promise,” Jasmine assured her, bussing her aunt's cheek and then hurrying out the front door.

  * * * *

  Loud, pounding music spilled out onto the street as the door opened to allow a few patrons inside the club; the lineup outside stretched halfway down the block when Jasmine stepped out of the cab in front of Raven's.

  "Jasmine. Jazzy, over here!"

  Jasmine spotted Carla and the others milling around out front, awaiting her arrival before going in. As she began to weave her way through the crowd, men and women alike turned to take a second look as she passed by.

  "Wow!” said Carla. “Look at you! Happy birthday, Jazz,” she said, hugging her when she got close enough. “That dress looks amazing on you!"

  Jasmine returned her friend's hug. “Thanks, Carla, you look pretty awesome yourself.” Jasmine thought Carla's jet-black hair, olive complexion and eyes like black pearls gave her a sexy, earthy beauty all her own.

  Jasmine accepted birthday hugs from Jenna and Anne, her co-workers at the Blue Flame, where she worked part-time waiting tables, and from Mike and Emma, her friends from the university. Then she spotted T.K. making his way toward her.