Dark Magic

by Sasha Satori

  Dark Magic

  Valentina Velvet - Book 1

  A Dystopian Magic Realm Novel

  By: Sasha Satori

  Axel & Valentina

  © Copyright 2020

  All rights reserved

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Any duplication of this material, either electronic or any other format, either currently in use or a future invention, is strictly prohibited unless you have the direct consent of the author.

  If you download this material in any format, either electronic or other, on a non-sanctioned site, please be warned that you and the website are in violation of copyright infringement. Financial and punitive damages may be pursued in whichever legal venue is appropriate.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Dedication

  To my darling readers,

  May the written words of these pages lead you to the archaic portal of realms.

  Music Playlist

  K. Flay (Vanic Remix)- Make Me Fade

  Machine Gun Kelly Feat. Camila Cabello- Bad Things

  Avril Lavigne- I Fell In Love With The Devil

  Halsey- Hold Me Down

  Lana Del Rey- Burning Desire

  Mourning Ritual- Bad Moon Rising

  Alan Walker- Faded

  YUNGBLUD- Die A Little

  Ookay- Thief

  Billy Talent- Try Honesty

  Ghost Town- Dracula

  Ghost Town- Monster

  Linkin Park- What I've Done

  BANKS- Beggin For Thread

  Julien Baker (Buddy Remix)- Something

  Meg Myers- Desire

  AVIVA- GRRRLS

  The Cranberries- Zombie

  Labrinth- Beneath Your Beautiful

  Ruelle- I Will Find You

  Ruelle- Monster

  Chapter 1

  Valentina

  I finish primping my long, golden hair that falls past my waist. Fabio and Gemma are busy talking about some seriously x rated stuff, my virgin ears shouldn’t be hearing. Gemma throws a condom at me, "Maybe tonight at this party you finally get rid of that pesky cherry of yours, because honey, twenty-three years old is way old in virgin years." Not the go be a slut speech again. I still can’t believe I even agreed to go to this party, I have tons of vegetables to pick from my garden and jar. Yet, here I am, clad in my favorite dress. It's a silk beauty, that falls mid-thigh, it accentuates more than it hides. It has real twenty-four carat yellow gold, delicate shoulder strap chains, which borders along the flirty sweetheart neckline. The fabric is like no other I have ever seen, the metallic golden foil-like fabric sparkles like gold diamond dust in the light, its ethereal sheeny glow is utterly hypnotic. I'm wearing its matching heels, that have slightly thicker, matching gold chains holding my feet to the heels sole. A wealthy client of mine offered to barter the dress and matching heels for martial arts classes. She said it was made in the fae realm and doesn’t wear out like normal fabric. I figured it was an investment, if this shitty dystopian earth stops making clothes, I can just live the rest of my life wearing it. This dress bought her enough one on one martial arts classes for a year. Gemma comes to stand beside me in our large bathroom mirror, "Girl, I'm jelly. You look like the goddess deity of gold. How am I going to be the star of the show with you looking like a delicious golden truffle? You're going to have everyone drooling at your tittie outline." I palm my breast. My nipple outline shows? Whatever must be cold. Gemma continues on her tirade, while applying cherry red lip stick that matches her bodycon mini dress, "I mean honestly, here I am having to use a whole stick of lip liner and all the tricks of the trade to get plump lips. While you have a defined cupid bow that gives you a sexy pout, and you have juicy plump cock-sucking lips. Where is the fairness in that?" I roll my eyes at her through the mirror. Gemma is a sex worker and gets a sick pleasure in finding new ways to make me cringe and blush with her sexually explicit stories and sexual candidness with the male anatomy, 'torment the virgin' is her favorite past time. I mean, it’s not like I'm saving myself for marriage, it’s just no guy has ever sparked embers in my lady bits. "Gemma, your fucking gorgeous, don’t go fishing for compliments. Shit! Here comes Fabio. I better hide my lip gloss before it gets looted." I say in a raised, mock hushed voice. Fabio sashays to the mirror, squeezing in between Gemma and I, "Valentina, there is no such things as stealing from family. Just permanently borrowing, and then bitch slapping the original owner if she dares tries to take my lip gloss back." Fabio has a full-fledged duck lip pout as he thickly applies 'his' lip gloss. Fabio is proud and gay. He dances to the beat of his own music. He's wearing a skintight, bright blue shirt and tight skinny jeans that look like they may be restricting blood flow. It all pairs perfect with his sassy, 'I'm fabulous and you better fucking recognize, bitches' attitude. Fabio finishes applying his gloss, with a loud popping lip smack, "Girls, let’s go before I decide to dump both of you old wenches for Rodrigo," he says, as he walks out of the bathroom. Gemma and I follow behind him. I grab my purse and make sure I have some money and my trusty LF. Little Friend. I watch one to many mafia movies. My LF is a Barretta gun. Not having mastered my magic, my gun gives me piece of mind. Also, I secretly fantasize about shooting a vampire or shifter, with a cigar resting on my lips, as I slowly enunciate, 'say hello to my little friend'. Ready to go, I just do my last-minute house check, it’s one of my lovable senior citizen habits. I make sure our beloved television is off and disconnected, not wanting any house fires, with the 'do it yourself' electrical set up we have. Thanks to Fabio's skilled electricity boot legging skills we have an old but working television. We all pitched in to buy it, as well as a DVD player. Vegging out and binge-watching whatever movies or shows we have on hand, is our bonding time. In a dystopian world full of magic, vampires, shifters, Z-landers, strange magical creatures, death and anarchy, movies and their portrayal of a happier world is the mental escape we desperately crave. Crime is rampant. Food is scarce. There is no law. Its survival of the fittest. Humans are at the bottom of the food chain. The metaphorical little school fish the sharks easily prey on. The sharks, those are the vampires. Vile, evil, heartless bloodsuckers, always mistreating and killing humans. Even with all the daily threats we face, we live as good as anyone could dream of. Gemma, Fabio and I, share a three-bedroom house. It was once an old abandoned, dilapidated house on the rough side of town. We worked tirelessly to get it into a livable condition. Houses aren’t bought, you either find and fix or kill and take. About one hundred and sixty-seven years ago, back in the golden years, or dark years for the vampires and other magical beings. Before the world went into utter chaos and humans became the prey instead of predators, houses were built in mass and readily bought. Now, you must fight to keep a roof over your head. Might makes right. We have been able to defend it from local human gangs thinking two chicks and a dude are easy pickings. It helps that I have it heavily warded, and nothing gets past my wards.

  I climb into Fabio's prized 1977 Pontiac Catalina Coupes back seat, Gemma gets shot gun. This thing is a literal relic. Fabio is a talented mechanic and worked ten straight years to rebuild a hunk of rust into a shiny cobalt blue peach that corners on a dime. Fabio and Gemma are chatting, while I rest my head against the small window. I close my eyes, hoping to take a little nap. Instead of sleep, memories long repressed come forth, like
an old cinema disk in fast forward. I recently turned seventeen, my magic was completely dormant, I thought I was a human. My mom and dad, both humans, raised me as their own. They told me, the night I was left at their doorsteps, a relentless knock on the door sounded. A woman was pleading with them to open the door. When they did, they found me. Alone in a woven basket, tightly swaddled in a brightly colored thick cashmere blanket. A note was tucked in the basket, hastily written in elegant calligraphy it listed my name, Valentina Velvet. It also listed my date of birth, and a short message, that they were to care and protect me, and in return I would do the same for them once I reached my bloom on my eighteenth year of life. My parents both childless, were thrilled to have been blessed by me, or so they always told me. They raised me the best they could, they taught me the strengths and weaknesses of vampires, shifters and other magical creatures. They warned me of a growing colony of humans, who kidnap and kill humans, to eat. To always stay clear of anyone who looked too well fed to match the reality of food deficits all humans face. And most of all to never ever go out past dusk, as that’s when the predators like vampires and other magical creatures are most likely to hunt. Besides the plethora of valuable knowledge, they taught me practical skills. My mom taught me to grow vegetables and fruits and then preserve them in airtight jars. My dad taught me at an early age to fight with knives and martial arts skills. I had a natural propensity and agility for the arts. The pupil became the teacher, as I eventually began teaching him. Hardship, hunger, violence and death were a part of my childhood and everyday life. We just stuck together as a family and overcame every hardship and struggle. A fat tear slides down my cheek reminiscing about them. My mental dam of sorrow trembling, waiting for the day it crumbles and the sorrow drowns me. My most painful memories surfacing like a neon orange buoy. I was seventeen, our garden was completely raided, all our hard-earned harvest gone. Our reserve jars had been quickly used in the following weeks. We hadn’t eaten in eight straight days and were slowly starving. I was to stay home and watch the house, while they went to market to sell our handmade clay cooking pans and other goods, we were willing to sell out of desperation. I hugged them both, told them to be careful and to be back before dusk. Dusk came and went. When they didn't come home, I pang of panic gripped me, I knew something went horribly wrong. I waited all night, chewing my long fingernails to husks. Thinking of possible scenarios, hoping that maybe they just had to seek shelter temporarily until sunrise. At the crack of dawn, I went to the market to search for them. I only found the shattered remnants of my parents treasured clay cooking pots. Massive amounts of coagulated blood pooled all around. Still, I continued to search everywhere, denying what my eyes had seen. I searched until the last second before the sun’s descent. Day after day, I went out looking for them. Night after night, waiting by the door, praying they would come home. After six months waiting for them to come home, drowning in a bone deep sadness. I realized the reality is that they were never coming home, that the amount of blood that I saw scattered next to our clay pans would be too much blood loss for any human to survive. They were dead. Every day the memories imprinted in our house haunted me. The constant reminder of loss was too much for me to continue to bear. I knew I had to make a fresh start for myself, open a new chapter, or have this be my ending one. So, with my eighteenth birthday just a couple months away, I packed as much as I could carry in my backpack. I left early one morning and never looked back.

  I aimlessly traveled with no destination in mind, lost with a broken heart. Every day and night, I had to defend myself from thieves and rapists that saw a young pretty girl to abuse. Almost two long, months of barely surviving slowly passed by. Until I met Gemma one afternoon on a street corner, she was wearing a short mini skirt and tank top. We struck up a conversation, I felt so at ease with her. She told me she survives by having sex for money or goods. On many of my hungry nights the thought of doing just that blinked through my mind, but I knew It would kill a part of me that I wasn’t ready to give up to this dark world, not yet at least. After she had a few local human ‘john dates', dusk was approaching, she offered for me to sleep the night at her apartment which she shared with her boyfriend. I gratefully accepted. That night while sleeping on her couch, her frantic cries for help woke me from a deep sleep. I found her in her room, her boyfriend had her pinned against the wall, a knife to her throat. Her lips were bloodied, her eyes swollen shut. His pants unbuttoned, about to abuse her in a horrific way. I beat the ever-loving shit out of him. Gemma and I then dragged his unconscious body outside. At night. It was all but a death sentence, as we never saw him again. Gemma begged me to stay, that she only tolerated him because being a lone woman was worst. She told me that with fighting skills like mine, I could make a good living teaching people to fight, that there was a huge demand for it. So, I did, I became a martial arts instructor. My eighteenth birthday was unremarkable, it came and went, just like all the birthdays before it. But in the following weeks, strange things began happening. When I thought of something with enough conviction, it physically manifested. Like when I was overseeing my harvest, my hand wrist deep in the soil, finding no matured vegetables, I really wished that they would hurry up and grow. The next second, I was pulling from the soil the thickest, most delicious carrots I have ever seen. Too many displays of magic, made me realize I couldn’t be human, yet I had no idea what I could be. Everyday life took precedence from finding out my origins. A couple years past, it was just me and Gems, who often had fan girl moments, saying my magic was 'the shit, yo'. Then we met Fabio, and our family was complete. Even with my magic putting me in the firm category of unknown magical creature, they don’t make me feel like the freak, I secretly sometimes feel like.

  Fast forward to now, I'm twenty-three living in as much domestic bliss as this world will allow. My magic though, has been growing unruly, as if challenging me to wield it or it will wield me. I have zero magical friends and not a hint at what I could be. Lately, black ghostly vine-like magic tendrils slip from me at the slightest provocation. For instance, last weekend when we were all vegging out watching a movie, Gemma was hogging the popcorn. I was hangry, and mentally complained that I wanted to hold the popcorn bag. Next thing I know, black tendrils are shooting out from me and grabbing the popcorn bag from her hand. She screamed as loud as one of those poorly produced golden years horror movies. Now, she all but throws the bag at popcorn at me. So, I guess there are some perks. Still, I need to figure out my magic, and what the hell I am before I become a danger to them. I feel us drive onto a bumpy road, my mind withdrawing from its nostalgic reverie. My eyes blink open and lock on a huge massive…. castle. It's way bigger than a house or a mansion. It's by far the largest ancient looking estate I've ever seen. A large guard gate stands in between fifteen-foot cement walls with barbed wire on top. I find it strange, the barbed wire is facing inward, as if to keep people from leaving. Looking up at this monstrosity makes goosebumps line my flesh. While gangs are a part of everyday life. The largest, most notorious one, are the vampires, the 'Killers United'. Only the strongest, most psychotic vampires are in that gang. They are akin to a vampire government throughout the world. They are known for being the best and most ruthless vampire fighters and killers. Needless to say, being an avid baby bunny lover is not a prerequisite to join the gang. This place radiates danger and imminent death. A place I would imagine a Killer United headquarters would look like. "What the hell kind of party is this Gemma?" I mean seriously. I'm more worried about not getting murdered than partying. She tells Fabio, "Get in this line," she points at the guard gate. Then turns around to look at me, "Relax, Grandma! Melanie knows someone, who knows someone, whose cousin is friends with a Killer’s United staff’s friend, girlfriends, sister’s house cleaner. She said if your hot, your invited." What kind of shit is that? Killers United… "Please, tell me this isn't the Killer’s United. That you’re just fucking with me and slipped me a psychedelic. I’m just tweaking out in a very realistic hallucinati
on in which I heard you say Killer’s United. As in the absolute fucking deadliest, most ruthless, most psychotic and powerful vam-fucking-pire gang!" I shout, mildly hysteric. Gemma shrugs. "I'm not too sure on all the details. Let’s just have fun. If I'm lucky I'll land a vamp." Gemma, Gemma. Gemma. I pound my head against the backseat headrest, experimenting if I can magically teleport the hell out of here. Nope. No such luck. I am fighting back a strong urge to throttle Gemma and Fabio, render them unconscious and drive us home. Just as I am about to act on my violent thoughts, Fabio pulls up to the guard gate. A huge mammoth guard suddenly appears out of thin air, right in Fabio's face through the window. Which elicits a very loud high-pitched scream from him and Gemma. "Only pussy allowed," the guard drawls in a deep malicious voice. I scowl at him. "We totally understand. Let’s go, guys." I say in a rush. He suddenly turns his head in a creepy as hell, not human position to look at my face and then slowly down my body. Considering its dark, except for Fabio's headlights and this weirdo is looking at me like I'm technicolor cat nip, obviously he is putting his vampire vision to extremely creepy use. Even through the dark, I see his white teeth flash and two sharp fangs descend. "I’ll make an exception. See you later, pretty human." he growls, looking straight at me, the waves us by dismissively. This feels just like we are sacrificial lambs who got tricked thinking lil' bo beep was having a house party, But really, big bad wolf just wanted lamb chops buffet style. This is an absolute shit idea, which I will be forced to go along with. The way the fangy guard was looking at me, I don’t think I could leave if I wanted to. He needs some time to cool his pervert enchiladas. Ugh, eff my life. Who needs enemies, when you have friends that serve you up drive thru style on a silver platter to a vampire thug gang.