Dark Illumination

by Hadena James

  “I’ll sleep inside the gargoyle.” I answered.

  Ba’al curled his wings back around me. It took a few seconds, but I was cocooned in the cool stone once again. I could hear their noises from outside, but they were comfortable noises.

  I put my head on the pillow. As I listened to Anubis, Fenrir and Gabriel talk, I stopped breathing. It wasn’t necessary. I wasn’t going to be talking any time soon. I felt my own heart beat slow down. Anubis said something, but by the time he finished his sentence, I was asleep.

  Epilogue

  I awoke in my bed. My stomach ached from being hungry. I was completely alone. In my memory, I could distinctly remember being wrapped up in Ba’al when I had fallen asleep.

  The change of location and the missing Overlords made my mood heavy. Had I dreamed it or was I dreaming now? I wasn’t sure.

  I got up. Dressed into something appropriate and went into the living room. Life existed in there. All of my pregnant family was in there. My mother sat on the couch, knitting of all things. My father was reading a book next to her, one hand on her leg.

  My sister Rachel and sister-in-law Hannah were discussing nursery items. The Overlords were in there as well. They were playing poker. Levi was with them.

  “Hi,” I said, entering the room completely.

  My mother instantly sprang into action. She waved and disappeared into the kitchen. My stomach growled again. I followed behind her.

  She had a plethora of items out on a tray. She handed me the tray.

  “Eat,” she walked back into the living room. I followed, carefully, balancing the tray as I walked.

  “Where is everybody else?” I asked.

  “Work or talking with contractors,” Levi said, never looking up from his hand.

  “So you are all moving here?”

  “Yes, the apartment building will go up first. How do you feel?” My father asked.

  “Not bad. Starved.” I gobbled down a donut.

  “Five days of no food will do that to a Demon,” he gave a small chuckle.

  Five days. I had slept for five days. I greedily devoured the contents on the tray. When I felt like I couldn’t eat another bite, I stood up.

  “Where are you going?” My mother asked.

  “I have something to do.” I walked out without another word. Levi shot a glance at me as I moved. He knew where I was going.

  I took my car. Sometimes, it went days or weeks without being driven. I felt the SUV lower on its springs as I got in. Another reminder that I was Demon.

  The parking lot was completely empty. I knew it would be on a Friday morning. There is very little to do at a Catholic church on a Friday morning. I would find a priest and maybe a few homeless people, but that was about it.

  I sat in the car, steeling myself up for what I was about to do.

  The Church of All Saints was a post-merge church. The pews were bigger; some even had holes cut in them to accommodate tails or wings. The design though was completely gothic. Tall spires reached out from the walls. The edges were adorned with carvings. Everything was made from solid stone. The windows were completely made of stained glass. Each depicted a different story from history or the Bible. They had even put a few hand-carved gargoyles on it.

  I had been christened in this church. My godparents had been Levi and oddly, Mammon. I had spent many a boring Sundays inside the walls, wishing mass would end faster or that I wouldn’t have to kneel one more time.

  Today, it wasn’t the kneeling that bothered me. It was what I had come to do. My nerves resolved to it, I got out of the car.

  The walk up the few steps seemed to take ages. My feet felt heavy, cumbersome. I took a deep breath as I opened the large, heavy wooden door.

  A priest in the front of the church turned upon my entering. He gave me a small smile before returning to whatever he was doing. I walked up to the Alter of Souls.

  The Alter of Souls was a special place in our church. It was where we lit candles for the dying or dead and wished them into heaven. Of the fifty candles, only three were currently burning.

  I took an incense stick from the tray, stuck it into the flame of another candle and waited for it to light. The light was intense for a moment or two, then flickered and waned. Carefully, I moved it to the closest unlit candle. The instant the flaming incense stick hit the wick, the candle caught. I lit five more candles, before blowing out the incense stick and setting it aside. It smelled of jasmine and oranges.

  I knelt down in front of the alter, “Our Father, who art in heaven, I pray to you humbly to accept your servant, Chiron, into your arms. I ask you to heal his wounds and mend his soul. I ask you to forgive him his malice and vanity. I ask that you lead him back onto the path of the Divine so that your will may be done.

  I humbly ask you to accept, Magnus and his coven into your kingdom. Show them the mercy and grace that, as your children, they deserve.

  Lord, I ask that you accept, John into your kingdom and show him the happiness and love he rarely experienced on Earth.

  Finally, I thank you for the return of Sonnellion to my family. Amen.”

  All of it was said in hushed tones. Another thought popped into my head. I light another incense stick. It too smelled of jasmine and oranges. I touched it to another candle and watched the wick catch fire.

  “Heavenly Father, I ask that you bless my sister, Jasmine. I ask that you lead her back onto the path of the Divine. I ask that you let her know your love for her. I pray that when she dies, you will show her mercy and compassion. She was lead astray, but your mercy and love may heal her wounds and mend her soul. Amen.”

  I stood up and watched the candles for a few minutes. It was considerably brighter with all the candles I had lit. The flames danced, creating shadows and erasing them.

  The priest was still busying himself at the front of the church. Cautiously and with butterflies in my stomach, I approached him.

  “Excuse me, Father,” I said timidly.

  “Yes?” He stopped what he was doing and turned to look at me.

  “I know it is not a normal time for confession, but I was hoping you would hear mine now.”

  “Of course, give me just a second, Brenna.” He hurried off into another room.

  When he returned, he had a book and had draped a sash around his neck.

  I entered the confessional. I took a couple more deep breaths. I could do this.

  “When you are ready,” he said quietly, encouraging.

  “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” those words were as far as I got. The grief I had been repressing behind my fear and anger came to the surface. I sat in the confessional box and cried.

  Dark Resurrections

  Book Three in the Brenna Strachan Series

  May 2013

  Prologue

  “Don’t you dare give birth in my car!” I yelled at my sister, Rachel as she bore down with another contraction.

  “Drive faster!” She yelled back.

  The contractions had started less than 30 minutes ago. I was under the impression giving birth took hours. It didn’t seem like we had hours. It seemed like we had just minutes and they were fleeing like rats on a sinking ship. Rachel had gone from “oh, they are ten minutes apart” to “oh shit, they are 45 seconds apart” in less than five minutes. There had been a mad dash made for the doors. Her mate had been left behind in the chaos and was now following us at breakneck speeds. This was their first.

  “Just breathe,” our mother coached in the back seat.

  “You breathe,” Rachel snapped at her.

  “You’re doing fine and we’ll be there in just a minute, Rach,” my mother’s voice was soothing. My sister let out a wordless cry at this suggestion. I understood, to some degree, whatever she was giving birth to, would probably have horns. Her mate, Thomas, was also not Demon, he was a Djinn. So, maybe the baby wouldn’t have horns.

  “Breathe Rach, deep and slow.” Our father told her. My car was sitting pretty low on its s
prings. We had myself, Lucifer, Rachel, Daniel, Nick, and Elise in the car. My mother was the only one who weighed less than 200 pounds.

  “Brenna, faster,” Nick told me.

  I careened around a corner, nearly flipping the SUV. I felt the tires lift from the ground. My brother Nick tossed himself to that side of the car, while swearing loudly. The tires found traction again.

  “Don’t kill us in the process!” Daniel scolded.

  “Hey, I rarely get to drive!” I defended myself.

  “That is no reason to kill us all,” Daniel chided me. I would have turned to glare at him, but I could see the hospital. I put my foot down harder on the gas pedal.

  We hit the curb with a noise that was pretty sure meant I had just busted a tire and probably ruined a rim. That could wait. Right now, I had bigger problems.

  My father rushed in, wrenching the door open and springing the hinges. I wasn’t sure if insurance covered things like “harried grandfathers”, I would have to ask. My mother was still giving advice as she slithered out of the back. Nick and Daniel were trying to help our sister out.

  Several orderlies and a nurse arrived on the scene. They plopped my sister into a wheelchair. One nurse stayed behind, loitering and giving odd looks to my mother.

  “No, she’s not ready yet, she just looks like it,” I finally told the nurse.

  My mother, also nine months pregnant, had the grace to glare at me. After a good thirty second glare, she waddled into the hospital. I stood outside for a moment, glad it was quiet.

  The silence was disrupted by the screeching of car tires. The hospital was turning into an Elder convention. My brother Eli, his also pregnant wife, Hannah, got out of the front seat of his car. From the back flew Thomas, Anubis and Gabriel. Another car was right behind them. Ba’al was driving. Fenrir in the other front seat. From the backdoors poured the rest of my siblings; Olivia, still unmated, Samuel and his mate, Samantha. They looked at me.

  “They took her in,” I shrugged unsure what other information they wanted.

  “Where?” Samantha asked.

  “Beats me, wherever they rush pregnant women to,” I told her.

  Anubis gave a quick bark of laughter. He shook his head and wrapped an arm around me. As a group, we entered the hospital.

  If Hannah hadn’t been waddling like my mother, we might have caught up with them. We saw them enter an elevator.

  “I’m sorry, can you tell me where you took Ms. Rachel Strachan?” Fenrir asked at the desk.

  The woman typed it into her computer and frowned, “I don’t have a Rachel Strachan.”

  “She’s the whale we just brought in to give birth,” I told the woman.

  “Oh, then she will be on the third floor. Just follow the signs.”

  “If Elise hears you call pregnant women whales, she’ll kill you,” Hannah snickered at me.

  “You waddle like a penguin. I thought whale was nice compared to what I could have said.” I smiled back at her.

  As a large and unwieldy group, we walked to the elevators. The doors opened and we all squeezed in. I felt claws dig into my leg. Ba’al had his hand outstretched as much as possible. The weight limit on the elevator said “15,000 Pounds”. I took stock of the beings.

  “We are way over the weight limit for this thing,” I said.

  “It’s only three fl...” Hannah was interrupted by the grinding of the gears.

  “Damn, we are going to get stuck or plummet back to the ground.” I sighed.

  The gears grinded away; getting louder. The doors opened. We exited. As the last of us exited the elevator, there was a loud pop and it plummeted back down. This was followed by a crash, the doors closing and an automated voice telling us to “have a nice day.”

  “That could have been bad,” I said to the doors.

  “Nah, I can fly,” Gabriel replied, he’d been the last one out.

  “I don’t see anything marked ‘Pregnant Women This Way’.” I told them.

  “It’s call obstetrics.” Hannah sighed at me.

  “I haven’t given birth, how would I know?” I shrugged back.

  “Your mother has,” she told me.

  “I wasn’t allowed at Nick or Daniel’s birth.” I reminded her.

  “Oh, well, it’s this way,” she pointed at a sign with an arrow.

  We followed it down a long corridor. Finally, my father came into view. He was pacing around the room. He was also slightly glowing. To my surprise, my mother was also in the waiting room.

  “Bren, you’re going to have to go in,” Lucifer told me the second he saw me. “They won’t let your mother because she is also due any day. Rachel won’t let any men in. That leaves you.”

  “Oh no, we can send in Olivia,” I reminded him of my other sister.

  “Been there, done that, not happening.” Olivia told me. “Your turn.”

  “Well hell,” I stomped towards the door my father was pointing at.

  Carefully I opened it and peaked inside. My sister was in what appeared to be a torture device. Her legs firmly closed at the knees. She was glowing and spewing obscenities at the doctor that was trying to pry her legs apart.

  “Rachel?” I asked quietly.

  “Oh thank god, get over here and tell this idiot that this is not going to be like a normal birth.”

  “I’m sure it’s going to be just like a normal birth,” I lied to her.

  “The sonograms and ultrasounds showed horns,” she gave me a look that meant nothing to me.

  “Ok, well, we’ll just have to work around that snafu. Look, mom did it several times and we all have horns and she’s human,” I walked over and gave Rachel my hand.

  “You’re right, I can do this, I just need to relax. At this moment, I would give anything to be able to take an epidural.” As a rule, we metabolize painkillers too fast for them to be any good to us.

  “I have Chimera spit,” I told her.

  “Really?” She perked up.

  “Really and I’ll share.” I dug out the little vial and put a drop of it on her hand. Her body instantly began to relax. The pain subsiding some.

  During the last six months, Gregorian had been to see me several times. Each time he brought me different presents. One had been a large container of Chimera slobber. It worked well as a pain reliever for Elders. I had carefully bottled it into small vials that were mobile.

  “Oh so much better,” Rachel unlocked her knees.

  “Good, but it is only going to last about thirty minutes, so if you want to give birth as painlessly as possible, I say we get to it.”

  “Ok, breathing,” Rachel instructed.

  “I didn’t go to any of the classes with you, remember. You’re just going to have to hold my hand and swear at me while you try to remember what to do.”

  “Figures,” she grunted. I watched her body tense, her stomach muscles became more defined.

  “I see a head,” the doctor informed us.

  “Well if you saw anything other than that, I’d be concerned,” I frowned at him to point out he wasn’t being helpful.

  “Another couple of big pushes and we’ll have it.”

  “Shut up,” Rachel snapped at him.

  “Come on Rachel, you can do it,” I cheered her. She grabbed my hand even harder. I felt a bone break. I didn’t cry out or jerk away, but I really wanted to. She pushed again. Harder this time.

  “We have a baby,” the doctor cheered.

  Rachel let go of my hand. I looked at the child in horror and waited. It cried. I still waited.

  “What? What’s wrong?” Rachel asked, noticing my face.

  “There isn’t a soul,” I answered.

  Also by Hadena James

  The Dreams & Reality Series

  Tortured Dreams (Book 1)

  Elysium Dreams (Book 2)

  Mercurial Dreams (Book 3)

  Explosive Dreams (Book 4)

  Cannibal Dreams (Book 5)

  Butchered Dreams (Book 6)

 
Summoned Dreams (Book 7)

  Battered Dreams (Book 8)

  The Brenna Strachan Series (Urban Fantasy)

  Dark Cotillion (Book 1)

  Dark Illumination (Book 2)

  Dark Resurrections (Book 3)

  Dark Legacies (Book 4)

  The Dysfunctional Chronicles

  The Dysfunctional Affair (Book 1)

  The Dysfunctional Valentine (Book 2)

  The Dysfunctional Honeymoon (Book 3)

  The Dysfunctional Proposal (Book 4)

  The Dysfunctional Holiday (Book 5)

  Short Story Collection

  Tales to Read Before the End of the World

  Hadena James

  I’ve been writing for over two decades and before that, I was creating my own bedtime stories to tell myself. I penned my first short story at the ripe old age of 8. It was a fable about how the raccoon got its eye-mask and was roughly three pages of handwritten, 8 year old scrawl. My mother still has it and occasionally, I still dig it out and admire it.

  When I got my first computer, I took all my handwritten stories and typed them in. Afterwards, I tossed the originals. In my early twenties, I had a bit of a writer’s meltdown and deleted everything. So, with the exception of the story about the raccoon, I actually have none of my writings from before I was 23. Which is sad, because I had a half dozen other novels and well over two hundred short stories. It has all been offered up to the computer and writing gods as a sacrifice and show of humility or some such nonsense that makes me feel less like an idiot about it.

  I have been offered contracts with publishing houses in the past and always turned them down. Now that I have experimented with being an Indie Author, I really like it and I’m really glad I turned them down. However, if you had asked me this in the early years of 2000, I would have told you that I was an idiot (and it was a huge contributing factor to my deleting all my work).