The Obsidian Crown of the Lost Dominion
Book One
LOST DOMINION SERIES
By
AKIRA KNIGHTLEY
© 2019 Akira Knightley
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced
in any form without permission from the publisher,
except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
DEDICATION
In Memoriam
To my mother, who always believed in me.
May her soul live happily everafter in that big casino
with a rose garden in heaven.
See you in Dreamland, mom.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1 - Paradise Lost
Chapter 2 - The Good Doctor
Chapter 3 - Into the Fire
Chapter 4 - Down Memory Lane
Chapter 5 - Welcome to the First Day of School
Chapter 6 - The Detention Club
Chapter 7 - The Blasted Detention
Chapter 8 - The Sanctuary
Chapter 9 - The Kerberian Box
Chapter 10 - The Truth About Time Travel
Chapter 11 - The Rescue Mission
Chapter 12 - The Coven of the Dagger vs. the Knights of the Crown
Chapter 13 - The Third Knight
Chapter 14 - Hailey’s Challenge
Chapter 15 - The Book of Lines
Chapter 16 - The Sorceress
Chapter 17 - Taylor’s Dilemma
Chapter 18 - Blaise’s Tunnel Vision
Chapter 19 - A House Divided
Chapter 20 - The Sorceress’ Apprentice
Chapter 21 - For Want Of A Crown...
Chapter 22 - Dark Storm Rising
Chapter 23 - The Black Rose Bookstore and Antiquary
Chapter 24 - The Destroyer of Kings
Chapter 25 - The Brotherhood of the Black Rose
Chapter 26 - The King Maker
Chapter 27 - The Nature of Magic
Chapter 28 - Proof of Life
Chapter 29 - The Rescue Mission – Part Deux
Chapter 30 - Alternate Identity
Chapter 31 - You Can’t Change Fate...
Chapter 32 - But You Can Choose Your Destiny...
Chapter 33 - The Last Stand
Chapter 34 - Facing The Music
Chapter 35 - Back Into The Fire
Chapter 36 - The Final Betrayal
Chapter 37 - Finding My Voice
Chapter 38 - Looking To The Future
CHAPTER 1
Paradise Lost
I didn’t kill my parents. At least, I don’t think I did...
There is no word in the human language sad enough to describe the feeling of losing one’s parents, let alone be falsely accused of killing them. For the past couple of weeks since their disappearance, I’ve been hoping and praying for their safe return. But today, instead of my prayers being answered, the nightmare I’ve been afraid of became my reality.
I wasn’t sure which one broke my spirit first: the news that the police changed the status from “missing” to possible “double homicide” or the one where they told me I was their main “person of interest”. I looked at my surroundings and thought how did I end up here, in a closed interrogation room at the Portland Police Department. At seventeen, when and how did I become the State’s “Most Wanted”?
“I’m going to ask you one more time, Abigail Montserrat, did you kill your parents?” Detective Dewitt boomed as he slammed his hand on the table and leaned over to me so close I could feel his hot breath on my face.
I pushed my chair back so hard it fell behind me, hitting my calves. I slammed my hands on the table to match his and yelled, “No! I did not!”
Uncle Jake, my attorney, jumped up and pushed against the detective. “I disagree with this line of questioning, if you can’t behave—” His voice was drowned by another barrage of questions.
“How can you be so sure? You say you don’t have any recollection of that night! What? Did you have an epiphany, maybe a whole new revelation? Are you remembering something and you’re holding back from us? Answer me!”
“Abigail, don’t answer any more questions,” Uncle Jake said. “Detective, I will not let you treat my client this way. Prove it or—”
My ears were burning. My heart was pumping.
“How dare you! I have subjected myself to your interrogation. I have put up with your insinuations and accusations, and I have answered every single question you asked me. It’s been two weeks since my parents disappeared and you have done nothing! You have found nothing! And your big move is to pin this on me! Well it’s not going to work, Detective, because I am innocent. Maybe you should do your job and look for my parents instead of wasting your time accusing me!”
“And yet you stick to the same unbelievable story that you and your parents just decided to up and leave one night!” the detective snapped. “No explanations as to why two very established people in the community would just decide to leave everything behind: social life, high government office, house, everything, and just up and go. You are the wildcard here! You are the one that doesn’t fit the picture; rumors of driving so drunk you passed out at the wheel, possible drug use, erratic behavior, but nothing appears official. Why is that? Is it because Daddy cleans up all your mess? Let’s face it, Miss Montserrat, you’re looking very good for this possible double homicide.”
He stood and walked behind his chair.
“You say you got invited by your boyfriend to his Fourth of July party. Funny how he’s telling us you broke up two months ago and you decided to show up at the party anyway! We hear you’ve been stalking him since the breakup.”
“I was not stalking him. I did go to the party but...but...I just thought—” I stammered.
“You thought by becoming crazy drunk and throwing a fit in front of all his friends, you’d somehow charm your way back to his side? Is that what you thought? Why didn’t you tell us before?” He paused for effect. “Because you forgot about the drinking, didn’t you? You forgot causing a scene that the cops had to be called out for domestic violence. And you don’t remember because you passed out! I’m not wrong, am I, Abigail?”
“So what do you have to say about that?” Detective Mercado interjected, obviously wanting to be on record for the interrogation but really had nothing to contribute. He was leaning against the wall holding a plastic bag of looked like pumpkin seeds. He popped some into his mouth and cracked the shell with his teeth. Then he realized there was no trashcan in the room and spat them out on his right hand.
Disgusting man! I thought.
“What are you looking at? Did that offend the princess?” he mocked.
My face flushed red with anger but more than that, I felt shame. It is true. I went to the party even though it was over between me and Grayson. I was hoping to get him back. I was hoping to turn back time to when we were happy. My friends told me it was a bad idea, and that he had already moved on, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t handle it when I saw him talking with other girls. I took one shot and lashed out. But the worst part of it was I didnn’t remember any of it. I didn’t even remember who I got the shot from. Some guy in a hoodie, I think. As much as I hated this detective, he was right. There were so many things I could not explain. I blacked out. I didn’t even remember any of this until now.
Tears rolleddown my face fast and furious, burning and and stinging my already raw cheeks. My body wouldn’t let
me stop the flash flood of emotional sobs. I couldn’t stop shaking but I stood my ground. I continued to stand in front of the detective in defiance of everything. I lowered my head and looked down at the gray table, trying to find peace at that moment, but would have settled for a small amount of self-control.
“And when you didn’t get your way, you had a blackout! My, my, it must have been some party. Too bad you can’t recall any of it!”
The detective stopped yelling for a few minutes but he kept his eyes boring holes on the top of my head. “Tsk, tsk, so tell me, Abi, when you wake up from one of these “so-called” blackouts, do you remember what you did? Or whatever happens in your blackouts stays in your blackouts?” he said sarcastically and winked at Detective Mercado.
“Oooooh I get it, I get it, like in Vegas!” Mercado said and he let out a howling laughter, dropping seeds to the floor.
He’s an idiot! They’re both idiots! I glared at him until he stopped.
My uncle picked up the chair and pushed on my shoulder to take the seat. I was oblivious to all of it. I pulled away from him, my head still bowed but I conceded defeat by sitting down. This detective needed to be told where his place was and be put there. How dare he talk to me like this? Doesn’t he know who I am? Yet, I couldn’t go there. They know about my blackouts. It was my closest guarded secrets. I was ashamed about what happened at Grayson’s. More than that, I was ashamed of my own frailty.
The detective continued, “Do you remember being drunk off your ass, throwing a tantrum or do the “bad, bad memories” just get swept away, erased when you black out? And despite what you did, when you wake up, you still come off as innocent as the day you were born. How convenient for you.” He dropped the tone and leaned towards me, his face two inches from my face, and yelled, “Tell me what you did to your parents!”
I’d had enough. Something fierce and raw came over me and without so much as a warning, I took action. I tried to jump over the table like a crazed feral cat. The detective backed away so fast he slammed his back on the wall. I leaned over the table so far I had one leg half standing on the chair. But somehow I was frozen in place. I couldn’t get at him. Uncle Jake’s hand was holding me back.
The detectives jumped back and seeds flew out of Detective Mercado’s hand. They stared at each other wide-eyed. Detective Dewitt was the first to recover. He laughed nervously and smiled at his sidekick knowingly. “And that’s what I’m talking about! You saw that, Mercado, right?” said Detective Dewitt, pointing at me, goading the other detective to agree.
“Y-yes I did,” Mercado said as he stuck his shaking hands deeper into his pockets. Dewitt stuck his chest out with pride. He smiled a nasty, insulting smile at me. He could tell he won that round.
I took a long breath and pushed myself back down on the metal chair. I looked away from the detectives. For the first time it occurred to me how small this room was, how very confining. How everything about it was designed to isolate and intimidate. My breathing came in long gasps of air and I had the notion there wouldn’t be enough in this room. I refuse to give in, I told myself.
I will not blackout! Breathe, Abi.
I dare them. I won’t be intimated. Breathe! I am not some withering flower they can beat into submission for something I didn’t do. Calm yourself!
I am innocent. I am innocent!
“Is that what happened? You lost your temper? We know about your little tantrums, Miss Montserrat. We know you’re recklessness and about your spoiled brat attitude. Well, you were lucky your parents were able to sweep all your bad decisions under the carpet like they always do. But they can’t now, can they? Who’s going to save you this time?”
“I told you everything!” I said slowly.
“If you have any proof, then arrest my client,” Uncle Jake interrupted.” If not, we are leaving.” With that, my uncle stood, with me in tow.
Detective Dewitt was just as fast. He waved us down and in a calmer tone said, “Okay. Okay. Let’s just go over that night. I just want to make sure we didn’t miss anything.”
Uncle Jake looked at me, asking with his eyes whether I wanted to move ahead. I nodded at him.
“I’m warning you, Detective. One more outburst like that and we are out of here.”
“You said you arrived home on July 5th at what time?” Dewitt asked.
“Around 3:30 in the afternoon,” I answered.
“Where were you from?”
“I came from my boyfriend’s place. Grayson McDermott. They had a Fourth of July party the night before. I stayed over.”
“Ex-boyfriend!” corrected Dectective Mercado.
“Is it your habit to stay over at your ex-boyfriend’s after a drinking binge?” Detective Dewitt followed up.
“Detective Dewitt! Are you going to keep this up? I’m not going to warn you again!” said Uncle Jake.
“Okay, Okay.” Dewitt held up his palms. He turned back to me. “Why did you stay over at your friends?”
“I was invited for the Fourth of July celebration before Grayson and I broke up. I decided to take him up on it even though we had broken up. The invitation was supposed to be for the entire week. There were several of us there. Yes, now I remember we did have a fight. But he asked me to stay anyway to...to sleep it off... I got a call and a text from my mom the next morning saying to get back home as soon as I could. And by the way, I don’t drink. I just had the one at the party.” I did only drink the one shot. Somehow, I got so drunk. Everything after that was an incoherent blur, up until the next morning.
“You’re nearly eighteen, and you’re telling me you don’t drink. Yeah, one drink, sure. I believe you,” he said sarcastically.
I lowered my head, afraid he would read from my eyes the utter confusion roiling in my mind.
“We’ve been over this! Move on or end this,” said Uncle Jake.
“Then what happened?” Dewitt asked.
“I told you. I went home. When I got there, the place was in complete disarray. My parents were in the living room waiting for me. When I asked them about the mess, they told me they had been packing. That they had everything ready to go, suitcases, passports, everything. They told me that Dad got an extended leave from his work and they had decided we were going to Canada for a while.”
“And what was your reaction to this?”
“I wasn’t happy about it. I told them I have plans with my friends here. And besides, my last year of school starts in a month and a half.”
“And...?”
“They were adamant about leaving and they said we had to leave right then.”
“So you had a fight with your parents that night.” He started scribbling really fast on his notepad. “Then what happened?”
I bit my lip to focus my mind on the events of that day. I felt so helpless because I know I have missing memories. I could either make up something and lie or just admit I had gaps in my story. I knew what it looked like but there was nothing I could do. I clenched and unclenched my fists, as if doing so would give me more choices. But none came.
“We left for the airport. I got in the Cessna. I sat in the back. They had me hold a bag with something like a box inside. I kept it on my lap. Dad placed all our suitcases in the back and Mom got in. She sat right next to Dad. He sat in the pilot’s seat. We strapped in our seatbelts and took off.”
“Wait, what time was this?”
“About four or five-ish I would say. I still saw a bit of sunset when we took off.”
“Does your Dad always pilot the plane when you go on trips?”
“No. He has a pilot who flies him places.”
“Would you say that he is a capable pilot?”
“He has his own pilot’s license and he has flown us a few times before, for vacations. So, yes, I would say he is a capable pilot.”
“Why would you say is the reason why
he would not use his private pilot in this case?” he said in a tone filled with condescension. I stared at him and he averted his eyes. I noticed a little tremor on his hands as he took out his notebook again and started to write. The detective tried to control his shaking by putting a lot of weight on the hand as he wrote. His fingers were so taut that he snapped the pencil. He grunted as he threw it to the side of the room. He motioned for his partner to take notes and adjusted his belt to expose his badge and gun to me. I know it was just to remind me who is in charge; an intimidation tactic.
“I don’t have the foggiest idea? I don’t ask my parents why they do certain things,” I said in a shaky voice.
“What would you say is his physical and mental condition? Was he ill? Was he having issues at work? You said he took an extended leave?”
My uncle took the question. “If you are asking if my brother-in-law was suicidal, the answer is no. I am the family lawyer and a family member, I would know if anything like that were happening to him. No change in his will, no change in his position, and certainly no financial issues.”
“Just one perfect life, isn’t he lucky?” Dewitt sneered at my uncle and then focused on me again. “What else do you remember?”
“I was tired so I fell asleep as we took off. I don’t remember the crash or anything like that. The next thing I recall was waking up and wandering in the woods. I guess I was lost. I heard someone calling my name and I followed the voice. It was the game warden. He said there was a crash and they had been looking for me. I don’t remember anything else.”
Dewitt’s brows furrowed in deep contemplation. “Well, I don’t believe you. Bodies don’t just disappear! There was no sign of foul play in the plane! That’s right! We had it checked. Yes, it crashed all right but not because of any mechanical issue. It seems it was set on fire and intentionally made to crash. Furthermore, there was no visible interference from the pilot. Either he was unconscious, dead or suicidal? Was he suicidal?”
“No, no he wouldn’t do that! My father would never intentionally hurt me and my mother!” I snapped, realizing the implication of what he was saying.
The Obsidian Crown of the Lost Dominion Page 1
