“This isn't right,” she muttered.
The fluttering wings of fear buffeted her already fearful soul.
A Mercedes sped past, zooming so close when it cut in front of her vehicle that she let out a startled gasp. Vanora’s car wildly shimmied on the road. The howling wind fought with the roar of the road for dominance. The sound was nearly deafening. Great drafts of air rolled into Vanora's car, shoving it to and fro across the asphalt. She struggled to keep the car steady. Ahead, the Mercedes fishtailed, skidding along the shoulder, leaving long streaks of rubber in its wake. In the illumination of the Mercedes’ headlights, Vanora saw the approaching bridge. The Mercedes smacked into the guardrail with a loud crunch.
Vanora smashed on the brakes, her car screeching to a halt.
With a loud thump, a tall, lean, muscled man landed on the hood of the Mercedes. The impact dented in the roof and shattered the sunroof. White hair flying about his face, the powerful creature reached into the Mercedes and dragged a woman from its depths, his hand tangled in her golden curls. Crying out, the woman fought valiantly, hands ripping at his shadowed face. The moonlight slithered over the white flesh of the man as he stood, lifting the woman with him.
Horrified, yet mesmerized by the sight, Vanora sat hyperventilating behind the wheel of her vehicle.
Drawing a jeweled dagger from the sheath tucked into his dark leather pants, the man's deep voice rumbled through the night.
“Your daughter is mine!”
“You can't have Vanora!” The woman lashed out, something silver shining in her hand.
“Mom!” Vanora shoved the gearshift to PARK and leaped out of the car. Racing into the gale-force wind, she screamed for her mother.
Carys shoved her hand against the chest of the ivory-skinned warrior. He howled, then plunged the dagger into her chest. Carys gripped his wrist, white flame and smoke billowing from the contact.
“No! No!” Vanora was so close she could see her mother's determined glare and the blood soaking her blouse.
With a shriek of pain, the man hurled Carys into the river below.
“Mom!” Vanora was almost to the car. She could see her father's slumped figure behind the wheel.
The giant man with the white skin and long, white hair howled in anger, leaped from the roof of the Mercedes, and flipped the vehicle off the bridge with the swing of one arm. The car crashed into the bank below, then burst into flames.
Vanora fell to her knees before the godlike man, her chest a band of pain.
“You killed them!”
Face hidden by his long white hair, the man clenched his hand into a tight fist, his nails drawing blood. It dripped onto the bridge in loud splats. Turning, he ran and bounded into the air, sailing high over the river below, his form silhouetted against the moon.
Struggling to her feet, Vanora stumbled to the side of the bridge and gripped the rail. Below, the Mercedes was in flames, her father burning to death inside. Somewhere in the dark water, her mother was dying. The stench of burning rubber, metal, and flesh filled the smoky air. Scrutinizing the river's surface, she spotted her mother thrashing about.
“Mom! Mom!”
Crazed with fear and grief, Vanora leaned against the metal rail for support and hurried toward the end of the bridge.
A giant fountain of water erupted from the river below, splashing loudly. It took several seconds for Vanora's mind to process what she was seeing.
The albino vampire hovered above the river, clutching her mother with one hand. Her mother's tiny form hung limply, the silver cross dangling from slack fingers. Jerking his dagger from her mother's chest, the vampire hurled her body into the inferno consuming the car.
“Mom!”
Vanora's terror, anger, and despair welled up within her like a flood, then poured out of her in a great wash of energy. It was a good thing she was holding onto the rail. Overcome with weakness, she sagged against it. The vaporous shimmer of her power crashed into the vampire seconds later, toppling him into the river below.
“Vanora, no! You cannot change this!”
Lifting her eyes, Vanora saw Carys. Created out of moonlight and shadows, her mother stood over her.
“Mom?”
“Vanora, this is the past. You cannot change it. Don't try.”
“Mom, he killed you!” Vanora lifted a trembling hand to her mother's face. She could almost feel the softness of her skin and smell the jasmine scent of her perfume.
“Vanora, listen to me. Listen carefully. I don't have much time. This spell was cast long ago and its power is swiftly waning. I had hoped it would never be activated, that I could change your future, but I failed.”
“Spell?”
“I cast a spell so that you would see the truth on your eighteenth birthday. That you would see what really happened to us, and be warned.”
The vampire landed with a wet thump nearby. Water streaming off his long white hair, he glowered into the darkness. Carys shifted her body to hide Vanora in shadows.
“Who's here?” a voice growled. “I know you're here! I sense you, witch!”
Deep within her, Vanora felt something dark uncoil. Tiny tendrils of magic slithered through her like black snakes. Staring at the handsome face of the vampire with the purple eyes, sensuous lips, and white skin, Vanora was gripped in a vice of longing that left her breathless.
“I am yours and you are mine,” she whispered, the words spilling from her lips like a prayer.
Horrified, she clasped her cold fingers over her mouth.
Tilting his head, the vampire listened intently. Through the crackling of the fire, the rushing of the wind, and the creaking of the tree boughs, Vanora knew he could hear her heart beating.
“Vanora,” he said, smiling slowly. “My little white witch, is that you?”
Carys gave a warning shake of her head, urging Vanora to remain silent.
The darkness within Vanora cried out for the man before her. Completion, peace, and power lay with him, but Vanora fought the impulse. She pressed her hands to her mother's cross, the bracelet on her wrist tinkling softy. The cadence soothed her crazed mind and anchored her.
“Vanora.” His voice was velvet on her skin. “My little white witch, are you spying on me?”
“This is the past,” Carys said softly. “It cannot be changed.”
The moon in the sky abruptly went dark, the stench of the fire disappeared, and the vampire vanished.
“This is the present, and you exist here, Vanora.” Carys stood and walked to the center of the bridge.
“Mom, I don't understand.” Vanora pulled herself to her feet, still weakened by her assault on the vampire. “Who is he?”
“Your destiny,” Carys said with a sigh. “But the future is not set. You must fight it.”
“I felt something...” Vanora hesitated. “No, I still feel something inside of me. Like a piece of me is crying out for him.”
“It is, Vanora. You were born to be his. You were born to be his future.”
“I am his and he is mine!” Vanora knew it was the truth and it terrified her. She rushed toward the apparition of her mother. “You knew this!”
“I tried to change it. I tried to fight it. But thousands of years of magic built up to make sure you were born, and I was not strong enough to fight it. I'm not powerful, Vanora, but you are.”
“I don’t understand. You have to explain it to me!”
“My spell is almost at an end, but two more were cast. They'll activate when the time is right. All you need to know right now is that you must never give in to him. You must always fight him. You must live the life you choose. You are in control of your own destiny.”
“Mom! How am I his destiny?”
“I love you, Vanora.”
“But there is more to know!” Vanora protested. “You have to tell me everything!”
The image of her mother was fading quickly. “This spell was to show you what he did. The next will show you who he is and who you
are. The last will show you the future you must fight.”
“Mom, you have to tell me now!”
Vanora tried to grip her mother's arm, but only found shadows and empty air.
Spinning about, she saw her car sitting on the side of the road, the engine ticking loudly as it cooled. There wasn't a burning car on the bank below. The moon was just rising. There wasn't a pale vampire stalking her. The night was serene.
Dashing to her car, she clambered inside and locked herself in. The clock on the dashboard read midnight exactly.
Her birthday was over.
The outside lights were still on when Vanora pulled up to her aunt and uncle’s home. It was a renovated 1930's Tudor revival house complete with peaked roofs and herringbone brickwork. The exterior definitely suited the Socoli gothic flair, but the interior was fully renovated and modern to reflect Aunt Crystal's preference. The lush green lawn sparkled with dew under the waning moon.
Slinging her overnight bag over one shoulder, Vanora locked her car and trudged up the brick walkway. The small yippy terrier next door barked angrily at the sound of the car alarm activating. It was amazing how loud the little dog could yap.
On the doorstep rested a long, glossy black box. Vanora stared at it with trepidation. Bending over, she fished the card out of the envelope. It simply read, “Happy Birthday” in flowing script.
“Armando?”
Somehow she doubted it. Dread filled her at the thought of the pale vampire. With the toe of her shoe, she flipped the lid off the box. Tucked in black tissue paper was a single white rose. Wracking her brain, Vanora tried to remember what it symbolized.
“New beginnings?” she muttered.
The words felt ominous. Picking up the box, she carried it to the trash bin on the curb and crammed it inside. Unnerved, she hurried to the front door and let herself in.
The house was cool and silent. A light from the rear of the house cast a warm glow over the wood floor of the hallway that bisected the downstairs. She considered tiptoeing upstairs, but then thought better of it. Most likely, her aunt was still awake and Vanora felt the urge to talk to her.
Entering the vast kitchen with its granite countertops and gleaming stainless steel appliances, she saw her aunt sitting at the breakfast table, her laptop open and files scattered around her. On the far end of the table, a pile of birthday presents awaited her.
“Hey, baby,” Crystal said, sounding tired.
“Working on a case?”
“Yeah. Trying to catch up a little. How was your trip?” Aunt Crystal finally cast her dark eyes in Vanora's direction and registered the expression on her niece’s face. “Vanora? What is it?”
Setting her overnight bag and her purse on the kitchen island, Vanora guiltily fidgeted with the bottom of her sweater.
“You're scaring me, honey.”
“I went home.”
Crystal's eyes widened slightly as she set her pen down. “What happened? Did you see them?”
Vanora shook her head.
“But you saw something, didn't you? You're as white as a sheet.”
“I'm always that color.”
“You know what I mean. Don't sass. Sit down and talk to me.” Her aunt shoved a chair out from the table with her fuzzy slipper.
Sinking into the offered seat, Vanora sighed, her fingers combing through her long white-blond hair. “I just wanted to move on. To not be afraid anymore. To not have nightmares. To somehow make it all right again. So I went home.”
“Did your therapist know about this plan?”
“My therapist thinks I'm getting over the deaths of my parents and older brother, not trying to recover from seeing my vampire siblings kill two pedophiles.” Vanora crossed her arms, resting them on the table. Leaning against them, she sighed. “It's hard going to therapy and lying.”
“I know, but if you tell him the truth you're going into the mental hospital.”
Vanora let out a long, frustrated sigh. “You and Uncle Nicolau are the only people I can talk to about the vampires.”
“I know. And it's not easy for us either. We love Roman and Alisha, but after your story...” Crystal shivered.
“I don't think they could help themselves,” Vanora said sadly. “Which makes it even worse somehow.”
“Yes, it does. I need a snack.” Crystal closed the lid of her laptop and stood up. “Want some sweet tea?”
“Definitely.”
While her aunt poured some ice cold sweet tea and pulled a box of Mexican cookies from the pantry, Vanora gathered her thoughts, trying to make sense of all she had seen. It was too tremendous to actually process so quickly. Emotionally and physically, she was completely drained.
Once she had several cookies washed down with tea, Vanora felt a little less muddled. Her aunt waited patiently, lightly stroking Vanora's forearm. The concerned look on Crystal's face was another reminder that Vanora still had family that loved her.
“My mom had the sixth sense, right?”
“She knew things, yes.”
“But was she a witch?”
“Hrmm.” Crystal pondered this question, then lifted a shoulder. “Maybe. I guess. Not in the way most people think of witches. She was a good Lutheran. Solid, church-going. Yet, she always seemed to stand outside the rest of the world. I know that sounds odd, but that's what it seemed like to me. She was sweet, friendly, loyal, loving, and a real firecracker if she felt people were treating someone she loved wrong. Mostly, she was like sunshine on a bright summer day. But sometimes, you could see the clouds roll in and she had this quality about her that felt like a thunderstorm. That's when things usually got interesting. It was little things like the lights popping, or the breaker flipping. Your daddy thought it was funny. But, there was real power there.”
“Did she do spells?” Vanora ran her fingers lightly over the condensation collecting on her glass of tea.
“Again, not in a way people think of spells. I wasn't too comfortable with some of what she told me. I was raised to be a good Baptist. I didn't know how to deal with some of what she told me. I remember one day catching her whispering to herself over and over again. It was in Welsh, so I definitely didn't understand her, but I felt like those words were full of power. Almost like she was linking them together in an invisible chain. I let her be, but later I asked her about it. She said she was speaking to the universe, giving it a message, and later, it would deliver it.” Crystal frowned slightly. “Up until then I always thought of her abilities like parlor tricks, but that was when it felt really real. I asked her what the message was. She said it was for me and I would know when it was delivered.”
Vanora raised her eyebrows. “What happened?”
Crystal sighed, running her hand lightly over her hair twists. “She died a month later. Nic and I rushed to Houston to be with you kids. We grabbed the first plane. Nic was in no condition to drive. He was a mess. We both were. I fell asleep on the plane and I dreamed that Carys was sitting next to me. She told me that you would come to me on your eighteenth birthday and ask if she was a witch. She said I was to tell you that what she is and what you are is rare. You are more powerful than she ever was, but you haven't unlocked it all yet.”
Vanora drew in her breath sharply, barely able to believe what she was hearing.
With a weary sigh, Crystal continued, “Tonight was the first spell, Vanora. Two more will come when the time is right. What you need to understand for now is that you control your own fate. You must live your own life. Don't stop living because you're afraid.”
Vanora wiped a tear from her cheek. “Did she really say that?”
“Yeah, she did. In my dream. And the fact I remember all that after all this time says something. I stayed up tonight waiting for you, baby. I didn't want to believe in that dream, or in what Carys was, but here you are. Here I am.” Crystal gripped Vanora's hand, her ebony skin a contrast to Vanora's paleness. “We're family, honey. I'm here for you. I love you. And whatever is coming, I will
do my best to be the person you need me to be.”
“I'm afraid,” Vanora whispered, resting her cheek against their clasped hands.
“So am I. Are you going to tell me what happened?”
“I can't.” Vanora wanted to, but instinctively knew that what she had seen was for her alone.
Crystal nodded, seeming to understand. Leaning over, Crystal plucked a small blue box from the stack of gifts waiting for Vanora. She set it before Vanora. “Open this one.”
“Who sent it?” The box looked familiar.
“I don't know. It just showed up on the doorstep this morning. I'm dying to find out what's inside. So if you're not going to tell me what happened, at least open the damn gift.” Crystal gave her a wry smile.
Carefully removing the wrapping, Vanora felt her heart speeding up. It was nearly identical to the gift she had opened a year before. Inside was a small jewelry box.
“No card, huh?”
“I know who it's from,” Vanora said in a quivering voice. She opened the box. Inside were tiny earrings in the shape of half-moons. Each crescent was adorned with tiny, sparkling diamonds. In spite of everything, Vanora smiled.
“Armando, huh?” Crystal made a scoffing noise.
“How did you guess?” Vanora carefully extracted the delicate earrings.
“The look on your face said it all. You're still in love with him,” Crystal decided.
Vanora took off her small gold hoops and replaced them with the new earrings. “Yes, but I'm afraid of him.”
“But you're going to wear his earrings and bracelet.” Crystal folded her arms across her breasts, disapproval dripping from each word.
“It doesn't make sense, but, yeah, I am.” Vanora touched the tiny earrings tucked into her earlobes, not even able to explain to herself why they meant so much. She knew she could never be with Armando, but there had been moments when he had made her feel incredibly loved and safe. Maybe the key to healing was concentrating on the good things she remembered, not the bad.
In Darkness We Must Abide: The Complete Second Season: Episodes 6-10 Page 2