Rising Dark (The Darkling Trilogy, Book 2)

by A. D. Koboah

  “What have you done?” I whispered.

  She smiled and came bounding toward me in a jingle of jewellery and expensive perfume.

  “Avery,” she sang. “You don’t have to turn me away. I’m like you now. I’ve come to stay.”

  I stood in complete shock. That shock soon turned to consternation when I saw her thoughts. She was thinking of a wedding in the field of flowers. Her attention was only taken away from thoughts of wedding planners and wedding dresses when she glanced at the shirt I was wearing. Her brow creased and she made a mental note to search my wardrobe for any other such uncool clothing and throw them away.

  She went to throw herself in my arms. I caught her by the neck and lifted her off the ground before she could touch me.

  “Who did this?” I hissed.

  “Avery.” She was coughing and spluttering. “I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.”

  She clearly had not worked out the fact that she no longer needed air. This meant she had been made into a vampire only recently.

  Things were so much worse than I thought.

  In a rage, I threw her away from me, despite the fact that, like Luna, she was no doubt much stronger than I was.

  She went flying through the air, hitting one of the oaks at the side of the mansion.

  This is where my story ends. All I will say is that if I thought I had known torment and aggravation during the long years of my life, they were nothing compared to what I suffered when Dallas came to stay.

  THE END

  Afterword

  I would like to first of all thank you for purchasing this novel and apologise to those of you who have had to wait nearly two years to read the continuation of The Darkling Trilogy.

  I have included this afterword as I wanted to take this opportunity to apologise for any historical inaccuracies contained in this novel. I tend to do my research after I have written the first draft of a novel as any research I do always influences the story, and since I believe a writer should always follow the muse when it comes to writing, it means I usually end up tying myself in knots trying to figure out how to work the facts into the fantasy I have created.

  Those of you who purchased, or downloaded, Dark Genesis before April 2014 may have noticed that at the end of the novel (when you get a glimpse of the events that take place after Luna’s journal ends in 1807) there is a reference to Luna rescuing slaves in the woods. I have since made a small change to Dark Genesis so it refers to Luna rescuing Negroes instead of slaves as slavery had ended by the time that scene occurs in the second book. Another amendment I made to that chapter concerns Dallas’s recollection of meeting Avery in the mall when she was five. I have since changed the location of that meeting to the park.

  One of the biggest challenges when it came to writing this novel was of what to do with those lost fifty years when Avery is waiting for Luna—which I refer to as the “wilderness” passages, as not much happens during that time. I initially included lots of stories, brief snapshots, of the lives of slaves in order to provide a visual depiction of Avery’s spiritual and emotional devastation through the lives of slaves around him. I ended up cutting out all those stories as that section was over one hundred pages long and slowed the narrative down. The only one I couldn’t bring myself to cut out was Helena’s story. When I started researching Dark Genesis, I came across a letter online from the son of a slaveholder regarding his father who was teaching his slaves to read and write and the skills needed to sustain themselves, as he intended to free them. The tone of the letter is that everyone saw him as an old fool because of his actions. I remember reading it with tears in my eyes. Helena’s words at the end of that scene with Avery in which she says she is proud of her father, is what I felt regarding this man’s actions and what I hope his descendants feel. I also want to add that at the time I wrote it I don’t know if the consequences of going against slavery were that severe, but it served the purposes of this novel. I have since been told that at the height of slavery and persecution, and even up to the tumultuous years after Jim Crow was shut down, sympathisers and their families were terrorised and lynched every bit as much as blacks were (murdering children, raping daughters, burning their homes down, everything you can think of.) So the consequences of going against slavery were that severe and more.

  I am considering publishing the wilderness section separately (a little freebie) so let me know if you are interested in reading it. Since publishing Rising Dark, I have made a few revisions and removed a chapter involving Avery and Zila as some people felt the first part of the novel was quite slow. A lot of people mentioned Zila in reviews of Dark Genesis, so the deleted chapter can be found over the next few pages in case any of you are interested in reading it.

  And before you ask... Yes, I am working frantically on the last book in the trilogy which will be narrated by Dallas. I hope to publish early next year, but the last book has to be a fitting end to the trilogy. I will keep you all posted on a release date.

  I thank you for taking the time to read this novel. If you have any questions, visit my website or email me.

  www.adkoboah.com

  contact@adkoboah.com

  I can also be found on Facebook, Goodreads and Twitter.

  https://www.facebook.com/pages/AD-Koboah/172747466249709

  http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5807160.A_D_Koboah?from_search=true

  www.twitter.com/adkoboah

  What would have been Chapter 24

  One night, I arrived at Mama’s cabin. Her back was to me when I entered and she spoke without turning.

  “I am in need of your help again this night, Wɔfa Avery.”

  “What has happened? Is it the baby? Is Lina all right?”

  “Yes, of course,” she said as she turned to me. “It is Zila, she is in trouble. Master John, he has...”

  Seeing my expression harden at the mention of Master John, she let her words trail away.

  Zila was one of John Holbert’s slaves. She had aided Luna when she rescued me from Master John and certain death.

  “What do you need me to do?”

  “I need you to take her away from the plantation, get her as far away from it as you can until it is safe for her.”

  I nodded and made to leave, but she placed a blanket in my hand. “You will need this. And there will be a lot of blood.”

  Anger pulsed through me, marking my face.

  “You mustn’t kill him,” she warned.

  I left her cabin without making any promises. I got to the plantation and materialised in the woodland. A sound that was alien to the natural night rhythms of the woodlands reached me. Loud thrashing, a human heart racing, a rasping wet coughing and tremulous breaths as bare feet hit the earth. Just as the ether closed around me, there was the sound of a clumsy tangle and then a heavy thud as she hit the ground.

  I moved out of the ether and found myself standing by her head. She lay in a tangle on the ground and was completely naked. Her hair was in disarray and her golden brown skin was covered with blood. The scent of her blood floated up to my nostrils in waves of warmth, a deadly call to the demon within. Thankfully, I had long learned to control the lust for blood, but I steadied myself and was about to bend down to cover her with the blanket Mama Akosua had given me, when I heard another human running through the trees. It was Master John. He bellowed her name, the rage and lust for violence I so clearly remember in Luna’s memories of him, ringing through the woodland.

  I waited.

  His footsteps drew nearer and I was about to step away to hide and see what he would do when he found Zila, and then deliver a few punishments of my own, when I felt a hand that was slick with blood grasp my trouser leg.

  I looked down to see Zila’s blood-streaked face, one eye swollen shut, the other staring up at me. I inhaled sharply when I saw the hideous bruises. This was probably the worst beating she had endured from him, and there had been many over the years. Fear flooded her open eye when she saw me standing over h
er. I was about to say something, or reach into her mind and soothe the fear, when I realised she wasn’t afraid for herself.

  “Don’t...don’t kill him,” she rasped.

  The hand on my trouser leg grew slack and her head fell back onto the dirt. She was unconscious.

  “So everyone keeps telling me,” I mumbled as Master John came bursting through the undergrowth.

  He was slightly heavier than when I saw him last, his face the red and puffy face of those who devote many hours to heavy drinking. He had been so vain in the past, but now there was only a shadow of his previous good looks left on his sagging features. His blond hair was limp with grease and it looked as if he hadn’t shaved in days.

  He only had a moment to register my presence, and then that all-consuming fear claimed him as I materialised before him, my hand closing around his neck as I bared my fangs.

  “I am so sick of you,” I hissed.

  His eyes widened in fear and he couldn’t move, his mouth working but issuing no sound. To my disgust, I saw he had wet himself. It would be so easy to snap his neck and save everyone the indignity of his presence, but instead I reached into his mind, a mind severely corrupted with women and perversions of every kind he had the impunity to inflict on his slaves. I made him fall asleep.

  But I was still angry for I had seen something I had not wanted to see when I entered his mind, something he returned to repeatedly over the years. Luna had bloomed in his thoughts, and my heart clenched at the image of her face. I had altered his memory of Luna’s daring rescue, but for some reason he still remembered accurately one single moment of that afternoon.

  The sun was blazing in the memory I saw and he was on the ground staring upward. Luna was on Julia, my lifeless body covered in a blanket slung in front of her. She had a gun in her hand and it was levelled at Master John, fire in her eyes as she glared at him. He raised his arm to shield his head and closed his eyes, blocking out her image. Long moments passed before he heard movement. He opened his eyes to see Luna riding away.

  She hadn’t killed him, he told himself over the years. She must love him because she had not killed him.

  I stared down at his unconscious body in utter disgust, trying to think of at least one good reason why I should not kill him. I could not think of one. But I took him back to Zila’s cabin, promising myself the nightmares I would inflict on him from now on would be fitting punishment for all his crimes. But I knew it would not be.

  I returned to Zila, picked her up and stared down at her battered face, her blood calling to me again. So much blood. I hurried back to the mansion so I could heal her wounds.

  ***

  I healed her, but made sure she slept. I had employed an old free Negro woman to look after the house at that time. I was waiting for her when she arrived that morning.

  “Oh, Mr Wentworth!” she exclaimed when she entered the drawing room and saw me standing there. Her expression grew alarmed when she took in Zila lying on the couch.

  “Good morning, Matilda. This is Zila. She will be staying here for...well, I’m not sure how long she will be staying here, but I need you to sleep here for the next few days and look after her. She doesn’t have anything with her, so you will need to get her some clothes and shoes, anything she needs. Just put it all on my account.”

  “What in God’s name done happened to her?”

  “It is all right, the blood is not hers. She will be all right.”

  “What you mean it ain’t hers? It be in her clothes, hair—”

  “Matilda! Just take care of her for the next few days. Please.”

  Distrustful dark eyes met mine. She nodded.

  “Thank you,” I said and left.

  It was a few days before I returned to the mansion. I stayed outside in the field of flowers for a few moments and just gazed at the mansion. I had put off seeing Zila for the last few days. There were far too many parallels to bringing Luna there, and I was resentful it was Zila I would be seeing instead of Luna.

  I entered through the front door. Matilda was immediately at my side to take my coat.

  “How is she?” I asked.

  “The same. All she does is sit up in that room looking out the window. She won’t talk or eat. Thin as a rake, that child, but nothing I does or says makes a difference. She still won’t eat.”

  “Thank you,” I said and made my way upstairs.

  I knocked on the door and received only silence. I sighed and let myself in. She was sitting in a chair by the window covered in a shawl. I moved right over to her and stood by the chair before she looked up. I expected fear, but saw none. There was only a deadness in her eyes that sent a chill through me.

  “Good evening, Zila. How are you feeling?”

  She stared at me for the longest moment. “You’s still young.”

  I nodded. Another long silence ensued. “I never got to thank you for helping to save my life all those years ago.”

  It was as if she hadn’t heard. Then she turned away, tears filling her eyes. She had heard my words, but they reminded her of something unpleasant. I remained silent as the tears brimmed and then spilled down her cheeks.

  “I was hurt bad. How did I heal so fast?”

  “It is best if you do not know.”

  She brought her hand up to her mouth. Two of her front teeth had been knocked out in the attack. “But my teeth.” She sniffed miserably. “How is he ever gonna want me now?”

  Anger blazed within my chest. “It won’t matter because he is never going to lay eyes on you again.”

  She only continued to stare out of the window, silent tears trailing down her cheeks and splashing onto her shawl. After a few moments, I placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it before I left the room.

  A few days later, she asked to see me. She didn’t waste time with idle chit chat.

  “I wants you to make him loves me.”

  I was aghast. “No. I would never do such a thing, even if I could.”

  “But you gots to try and do something,” she pleaded.

  Bewildered, I asked the question many have asked a battered woman, and will continue to do so after Zila and Master John have left the Earth.

  “Why? Why do you care for him?”

  “My mama was sold when I was still in her belly so I never even clapped eyes on my daddy. She be dead not long after and I grew up on my own. I never looked like nobody on that plantation. The other niggers is nice and takes care of me, but I never really belonged to nobody. Everybody else in my life just comed and goed. Then he came and he’s the onliest thing that stayed the same in my life. My chillen be knowing who they daddy is. And he treats em different from the other nigger chillen on that plantation ‘cause they his. I can never name him as they daddy, but he knows they his. And they at least know what he looks like, which is more than I can say about my own daddy. And he can never be took from me.”

  “No, but he can sell you away as easily as he can sell his horse, or—”

  “He ain’t never gonna sell me!”

  “It does not matter. I cannot make him love you, and you won’t see him again.”

  She was silent for a long time, then she glanced at me, malice dancing in her eyes.

  “So what went on with you and Luna?”

  Her question threw me off guard and I moved to the fireplace.

  “Nothing. It was—”

  “You done hand her to that nigger Jupiter on a plate. That’s what happened. Well, let me tell you, that was just plain dumb.”

  “The situation was complicated, Zila. I had a good reason for doing what I did!”

  She snorted in disgust.

  I turned and glared at her. A few moments later, I faced the wall again. “I cannot disagree with you. I never should have let her go.”

  I felt more than saw her triumphant smirk. But she was right. I hadn’t admitted it to anyone, but I never should have let Luna go no matter the risk posed by the entity in the chapel.

  After some persuas
ion from Mama, I took Zila back to the plantation. It was not our choice to make, Mama insisted. So I took her back.

  I was relieved when she left; the mansion was an even more miserable place to be with Zila there.

  But when I returned at dawn the following morning, I almost wished for her return. We were united in our misery in wanting someone we would never really have.

  Also by A. D. Koboah

  PEACE

  Peace Osei is young, beautiful—and addicted to heroin; the only thing that can keep painful past memories at bay. But when Mohamed, a past love, re-enters her life demanding answers to questions she is not ready to face, it threatens to send Peace swimming deeper into self-destructive waters. Having spent so long drifting away from the real world, can Peace find the strength to face the past and banish her demons?

  Read on for an excerpt of A. D. Koboah’s Contemporary, Urban novel.

  Peace

  I quickened my steps to try and shake off the grinding pain in my stomach. But that only made it worse, forcing me to slow down and come to a stop by the side of the bridge whilst everyone else swept on past. It was rush hour so nobody noticed me, a small figure dressed in black trembling against the icy metal railing under dense grey clouds that threatened to unleash rain on the city below. Unable to move or think straight I let my eyes drift over the raging waters of the River Thames, which stretched out like a rippling black sheet for miles before me. And as I stared at the dark angry water, it seemed to come alive, taking on the appearance of an enormous creature stirring restlessly beneath me. The sound of the waves crashing against the bank now sounded like an unearthly heart beating slow and steady against the soft sigh of the January wind.