The Dark Rising (16 page)

I was in quite the predicament, not wanting to abandon Vance, but if I didn’t escape before he woke up I would be dead. 

My powers were weakened beyond belief, I was exhausted, and my body wanted to sleep.  Trying to recover from blood loss had been a draining experience for me even when I had the Awakening.  It would probably take days before I felt anywhere near normal now. 

I didn’t have days.  I wasn’t even aware if I had hours. 

There was no way for me to judge how long it had taken for the Awakening to be removed from me.  The only thing I was sure of was that it was night time.  The dim moonlight shone through a small window over one of the shelves at the far end of the room.

Quickly, I tried to sort the options in my head.  I was a half-dressed prisoner, in a shack in the middle of the bayou, with virtually no powers at my disposal.  I wouldn’t be able to fight my way out, and if I waited to come up with some terrific idea, then Vance would wake up ready to kill me.

The lethargy of my body was draining me quickly.  I slumped against the wall heavily, unable to keep my eyes open and I fell asleep.

Unaware how much time may have passed when I awoke again, I felt desperate immediately, as well as angry with myself, for sleeping during such a critical situation.

My hands slipped behind me, and I fingered the rough clapboards at my back.  I wondered if I might be able to generate enough power to make a hole in the siding so I could climb out.

It wasn’t a great plan, and I knew it.  I had no idea where to go, or what to do afterward if I succeeded, but for now getting away had to be my top priority.

I concentrated the energies together and focused on trying to freeze a small part of the board as hard as possible.  The energy flowed from me quickly, but was soon spent.  I felt like I’d run a marathon, panting while sweat dripped down my face.

My palms slid over the surface, noting the frozen section running about a foot up the wide board.  I hit the ice with my knuckles as hard as I dared, and it crumbled, leaving a hole that let in a rush of the humid air from outside.

Placing my hands back in front of me and leaning my head against the wall, I waited to see if anyone heard anything and would come to check on me.  No one appeared, but that didn’t lessen my anxiety since I realized the streams of white exiting Vance’s body were now leaving him at a much larger and more rapid pace.

I sat there for a little bit with my eyes closed while I tried to gather up enough strength to try again.

Someone entered the room, but I kept my eyes shut and my breathing deep and even, so it would appear I’d fallen into an exhausted sleep.  After a few moments, the footsteps retreated back out.

Several minutes passed before I decided to try once more.  I slipped my hands behind me and placed my palms against the wall.  I tired much quicker, but still succeeded in making nearly the same sized hole.

I moved my arms back in front of me, and I resumed my sleeping stance once again.  If I could do it one more time, I thought I’d be able to slip my slender frame through easily.  If I couldn’t, then I was in trouble because the broken board would be visible above my head and there would be no hiding it.

I began to notice some dark emotions starting to stir in Vance’s subconscious mind.  That wasn’t good.  I needed to hurry.

Raising my hands and placing them behind me, I concentrated on freezing as much of the board as possible.  I only succeeded in getting about seven more inches this time.  After I widened the hole, I moved to lie on my side so I could slide both legs out, and I wriggled my hips through the slim, vertical, opening until my knees touched the ground beneath me.  Then I twisted the rest of my torso out, followed by my head.

“I love you,” I whispered into Vance’s dark churning mind.  “I’m sorry.”

I turned and ran into the darkness.

I stumbled, running blindly through the swampland, and though the ground was lush with foliage, my soles still ripped from sharp things I stepped on.

I kept getting tangled up in the mossy vines hanging from the trees that seemed as if they were grabbing me, twisting around me like poisonous snakes hoping to snatch me up.  I struggled against them until I broke free, taking off running again.

My feet stung when I ran through some shallow water and I prayed to the heavens there were no alligators waiting to snap at me with their powerful jaws.  I tried to navigate myself back toward dry land, not even knowing if I headed in the right direction.

My lungs seemed about to burst from trying to breathe, the humidity so thick it was like drinking the air.  I briefly wished for the dry heat of Arizona, not used to this environment or operating under such conditions.

Even in my panicked, fleeing state, I still knew the exact moment that Vance came to in his complete demon frenzy.   His mind was completely open and linked with mine, flashing images at me.

The shock exploded through me, threatening to destroy my heart as his bloodlust boiled quickly to the surface, consuming him.  He was pretty much incoherent with rage when he sprang up from the table and stormed toward the watching women.  I heard Catriona call out to him, trying to explain, but he didn’t even pause, using a magical burst of power to throw her up against the wall.

She hit hard, before slumping to the floor and she hurriedly tried to regain her footing.  He attacked her in an instant, dragging her to her feet before sinking his teeth into her, tearing flesh from her throat and then snapping her neck.  I didn’t feel sorry for her.  I was more worried about the fact he actually enjoyed the sensation of her blood running through his hands and the surge of power he’d felt.  He liked killing her.

He turned, intent on taking another victim, but had a moment of hesitation when he stepped toward Mayla.  Though he seethed and raged inside, something in him connected with her, and she met his stare unflinching.  He left her living and immediately sought me out with his mind.

He was thirsty. 

Through sheer force of willpower I kept moving, knowing he was coming after me, tracking by thoughts and our physical pull. Fear bubbled up in my throat, and his anticipation reacted instantly to my response.  He knew he could catch me, but he was excited for the chase.

Pausing for a second, I looked around frantically trying to spot something, anything that would give me a clue to a direction to go, or a place to hide.  Nothing greeted me but the darkness of this completely foreign world.

I took off again, trying to shut my mind against him, a skill I’d never mastered, or even wanted to until this very moment.  I tried to just concentrate on running and not on the things I was seeing.  I couldn’t afford to give him any extra help.

My body was fading fast, having been pushed beyond its limits.  I stumbled again, reaching for a nearby tree and I struggled to pull myself back up.  I sucked in a couple of breaths of air before I moved forward once more, the trees moving past me in a blur.  I stepped into a patch of mud and slipped, crying out as I fell backward hitting my head on something hard with a loud crack.

Stars began to spin before me and then everything went black.

I had no idea how much time had passed when I woke to a painful throbbing.  While trying to grasp onto reality, I lifted my hand, touching the giant lump I found near the base of my skull with an involuntary moan.

“Don’t try moving too much,” a man’s voice spoke to me.  “It will only make things worse.”

My eyes flew open and a man of Haitian descent stared down at me with a kind expression that contrasted with the wrinkles of his weathered face.  His black hair was short and sprinkled with gray throughout.

“Who are you?” I asked, afraid to trust anyone at this point—kind eyes or not.

“Most people around these parts call me Hex,” he drawled with his thick southern accent, and I thought I saw a flicker of sadness pass over his face.  “I suppose you can do so too.”

I glanced around the room a bit apprehensively as I took in my surroundings.

“It’s okay.  You’re safe here,” Hex added while he watched me.

“Where is here exactly?”  I took in the windowless walls in the moderately sized room.

“We’re actually in a secret basement compound which lies beneath a dilapidated abandoned shack above ground,” he explained and he looked about before turning back to me.  “There’s more, but I think it’s best that you continue to lay there for a little longer before you get up to wander around.”

He talked like I would be staying for a while and a thread of fear shot through me.  Had Vance found me and brought me here?

I moved my hand to my throat, finding it intact, with no new damage other than the previous scar.

“Don’t worry.  The demon won’t find you,” Hex stated, and I wondered if he could read my mind.

“How do you know about that?”  I watched him warily.

“Well, after I found you knocked out in the swamp, I brought you here.  I figured you’d been pretty traumatized because you kept screaming in your sleep.  You talked about demons, snakes, and someone named Vance,” he explained.

“How long have I been here?”

“For a couple of days now,” Hex responded.

Days?
I thought to myself.

“Well, thank you for your help.”  I glance up at him.  “But by helping me you’ve placed yourself in danger.”

“Why don’t you tell me about it,” he replied without looking a bit concerned.  “You can trust me.”

I looked him over for a good minute before I even bothered to respond.  For some reason I did feel I could trust him, though I was nervous to.

“I’ll make a deal with you.  You give me your story first, and then I’ll give mine.”

He pondered this for a moment before he nodded.

“All right.”  He leaned back in his wooden chair scratching his head as if looking for a place to start.

“Well, I’m a warlock, just as you’re a witch, though my real name is Hezekiah.  I’ve lived in Louisiana my whole life, and I received my powers at the standard age of sixteen.  During my younger years, I was part of a local coven which practiced Voodoo, all very good witches.

“Most people don’t know, but Voodoo is actually considered to be a magic of light and purity.  Unfortunately, pop culture has turned it dark and mysterious in the eye of the general public.”

I looked at him skeptically.  “What’s Hoodoo then?”

“Hoodoo is practiced by people who take their magical learning from Voodoo and twist it into something impure with black magic.  It’s often used to hex or curse, though some claim to work it for good.”

I didn’t miss the irony of his words.  “You said people call you Hex.  Why would they call you something that means a curse?”

After an uncomfortable moment he continued.  “I found myself swayed by the pull of the dark arts.”  When my eyes widened, he hurried to continue.  “But don’t worry; I’ve seen my errors.  I don’t practice them anymore.”

“What happened?”

“Well, I became friends with someone who wasn’t a good influence on me.  He manipulated my mind until I turned against those who loved me.  I began to practice black magic, and when my coven found out, they exiled me, calling me a curse to their society.”

“That’s how you got the name Hex?”

He nodded.  “Not long afterward I realized what I was doing was horribly wrong.”  He lifted his wrist, showing me a nasty, twisted scar.  “My friend was turned into a demon by those he followed.  After his conversion he came after me.  My mother killed him during his attack.  She saved me, but never spoke to me again.  I was shunned by all of my people.  They would not believe me repentant. 

“I began wandering around the area looking for a place to go and came along this old abandoned shack.  I moved in, though I feared for my life.  Being an unprotected warlock, there were others who would harm me.

“I started building this safe house immediately.  Initially it was just a hole, but over the years I reinforced and expand.  Magical wards are visible to other witches if placed above ground, so I buried them deep into the walls of the earth surrounding this place.  No one is aware it’s here.  I try to keep to myself most of the time.”

“How do you survive?” I asked looking up at him.

“Oh, I venture into different towns every now and again to buy things I might need.  I’ve accumulated a decent bank account, so I’ve been frugally using that to fund my projects.  An old man like me doesn’t want for much,” he said.  “Now it’s your turn.”

I took a deep breath.

“It’s a long story,” I warned.

“We’ve got the time,” he replied with a wave of his arm to our surroundings.  “Not a soul to even interrupt.”

I started at the beginning, when I’d first found out I was a witch and continued clear up to the present.  I surprised myself, finding I didn’t want to leave out a single detail.  The words just bubbled out of their own accord as the tears ran down my face.

It almost made me feel lighter, to be able to talk to someone about how my entire world had come crashing down around my feet, and now the one person I loved and trusted more than anything in the world had become the evil he’d always feared he would.

The sobs were shaking my body by the time I finished my tale and Hex reached out to take my hand, pulling it gently up to his chest.

“What a trial you’ve been though,” he said as he patted me.  “You’re so young to have gone through all of this.  I’m truly sorry about your husband, but I do think perhaps I can help you out a little bit.”

“How so?” I reached up to wipe away my tears away from my face.

“Well, I’ve had a lot of time on my hands, and I’ve used it to study magic in all of its forms, everything from myths to actual facts.  Not to be boastful, but I’m quite the scholar on the subject.  For instance, I’m familiar with the Awakening and its prophecy, and I’m aware of only one spell which could’ve successfully removed it,” he stated.

I forced myself to sit up and face him, even though my head throbbed painful.  I placed my palm on the knot trying to ease it.