Mother of Darkwaters: Book one of the Vessel series

by Tony C. Skye

  * * *

  click.

  “Good morning clutz,” Rebecca Hindsworth greets her bff as she enters the car.

  Caroline fastens her seat belt, “Better.”

  “Any more Kruegar dreams?”, the curvy blond pries, “And don't lie to me.”

  “No, I slept really good,” Caroline spits out a half-truth.

  Rebecca scrutinizes her bff for any tell-tales of a fib, “Hmm. You're either being truthful or you've gotten better at lying.”

  “What's the latest on our target?”, Caroline changes the subject.

  Rebecca nods her head, “Lie.”

  “No, Becca. I really did sleep good last night,” Caroline defends.

  Rebecca smiles and winks her right eye, “I believe you. Just double-checking.”

  Caroline grins as she shakes her head. She pulls down the mirrored visor on the passenger side of Rebecca's blue Mustang. She fixes her long hair into a cute top-side pony tail while Rebecca puts the stick shift into first gear.

  “Let's go conquer the day,” the blond signals their departure as the rear tires chirp in response to her heavy use of accelerator pedal.

  Caroline enjoys listening to Becca ramble on about the latest information and steamy buzz of West Hills High. It takes her into a comfortable world of normalcy. A life in which she understands. A life that makes sense.

  She particularly enjoys hearing about David Snow's demands on wanting a date with their friend Tamara. The look on Tamara's face must have been priceless. And the fact that Tamara has a boyfriend really adds to the drama. But more importantly, her willingness to do so speaks highly of her devotion to the sisterhood of the S.V.C. Friends like her are hard to come by. This is why only four of them are considered a part of the inner-circle sisterhood. The rest of the sixteen are just Senior Varsity Cheerleaders.

  Whenever Caroline hears about a second target on the S.V.C. hit list, she is only slightly surprised to find out it is the girl in the older model brown truck – the same truck Rebecca nearly hit yesterday. And yes, it was Rebecca's fault. But there's no telling Rebecca Hindsworth anything of the sort.

  “Basically, Tamara gets to claim herself another submissive in exchange for the date with David Snow,” Rebecca proudly boasts about her planning skills.

  “The girl has no idea what she's in for,” Caroline states, “Tamara will make a point of humiliating her every day.”

  “And it serves the skank right for threatening me in front of Mr. Tolbert's class,” Rebecca responds venomously.

  Caroline wasn't there, so she's not going to try and judge the situation. But becoming a Tamara's Submissive is not a good thing. It's a punishment which spans over the entire school year. Regardless of any sympathy she may feel towards the doomed girl, Caroline will always support the sisterhood above all others. This was the point of their blood oath this past summer:

  By our blood – We are bonded.

  For our bond – We now bleed.

  We will drink from each other's blood.

  United together within The Sisterhood.

  This simple spell was mainly performed out of a fun curiosity. Some weird book Rebecca purchased online had the unification spell within its pages. But what seemed innocent enough, quickly became a little more serious when they had each other's bloody index fingers inside of their mouths. The four of them never talk about the events in detail. They each pretend nothing strange happened. But it did. And every one of them has been changed by it.

  Caroline knows for a fact her bff knew she had been lied to. It's part of the unification spell. It's how it works. But beyond this, Caroline has been experiencing strange dreams, violent fantasies, increasing sexual desires, and unexplainable physical strength. She isn't so sure the rest of them have been affected like this. Not like her.

  Instead, they all seem to be tip-toeing around her. Caroline doesn't like to see them this way. Even Rebecca has started showing signs of being afraid of her. And if there is any moment in her life in which she needs her friends, it is now. Especially, after her rotten father abandoned her and her mother.

  All of the girls – except Caroline – have been sexually active for quite a while now. Jennifer since her sophomore year, Rebecca since her junior year, and Tamara all the way back to the eighth grade. In fact, it is Tamara who has been the biggest influence and source of information for the rest of them. But not that night.

  The unification spell required some strange symbols on the floor marked out with chalk. Some candles were lit and an odd concoction was burned. It was made from some sort of herbal mixture that Caroline still doesn’t understand.

  The girls had to stand naked around a circle with the symbols made of chalk. Not a really big deal for them. Cheerleaders change clothes and take showers around each other all the time. They've even been known to help each other out with waxing sometimes. But none of it is ever sexual. It's all business…cheerleader business.

  They all like boys. Even 'The Last Virgin' , Caroline, as her friends have aliased her. That's not the issue. Never has been. Never will be. But the oddity of that night is the issue. None of them is able to explain exactly what happened. And none of them really care to. They'd just soon forget about it. But they can't. It's too traumatic to forget – too confusing to understand. So they have agreed not to speak on it…ever.

  Rebecca went first since the crazy idea was all hers to begin with. She made a cut with the ceremonial dagger required by the book. As her right index finger bled, she was to write her initials on any part of the body she freely chose. No hints or clues. Just wing it. Or as the book more specifically indicated, 'By your heart you shall choose.' And that's what Rebecca did.

  “Across your heart because we love as one,” Rebecca spoke each time while her bloody initials painted each girl's upper left chest.

  Tamara went next, “Across your belly because our soul is one.”

  Then Jennifer, “Across your lips because our breath is one.”

  Finally, Caroline painted her initials, “Across your forehead because we think as one.”

  Unfortunately, the girls misjudged the amount of blood required for such a thing as this. They each had to cut themselves in the same wound. Why, Caroline still doesn't know. But that's what Rebecca said had to be done. And the second cut had a much sharper sting to it. In fact, it hurt like hell.

  After they painted each other, it was time to step inside the circle and finish the ceremony. They recite their oath and began with the tasting of each other's blood via a dripping index finger inside of someone's mouth. Caroline's legs began trembling with heat and excitement – as did the rest of the girls. Whenever they finished, they stood there holding hands…bloody hands which started exploring. And for the next two hours, the girls did things they will never speak about to anyone at any time. Not even to each other. Not now. Not ever.

  But within all of the uncertainty surrounding that night's events, one thing remains clear as crystal: They are, most definitely, bonded as one. One heart. One breath. One mind. One spirit. Bonded together, by that night.

  By our blood – We are bonded.

  By our bond – We now bleed.

  We will drink from each other's blood.

  United together within The Sisterhood.

  * * *

  Caroline glances over at Rebecca, “You do know you're going to have to start calling her 'Tamara's Submissive' instead of 'skank', don't you?”

  Rebecca grins, “Such a beautiful ring, don't you think?”

  “You know I do,” Caroline states flatly.

  Rebecca teases, “And I, also, know that my sweet bff is a liar.” She follows up by poking her tongue out.

  Caroline shakes her head with a knowing grin.

  * * *

  Rebecca pulls into the student parking lot of West Hills High. Caroline sees a commotion over by a parked Corvette convertible.

  “Isn't that Tamara's car?” the girl asks Rebecca already knowing the answer. After all, there's
no mistaking Tamara's vette. It has been painted to match the blue-metallic coloring of Rebecca's Mustang. As has the BMW in which Jennifer drives.

  The blond glances over to where Tamara and Jennifer usually park their cars. A rusted brown truck sits in Tamara's spot. No one would ever dream of taking that spot. The entire school is aware of who owns the spot by way of claim staking, Tamara Hillary Stilliard. Yet, there is the new girl.

  “Oh, it is so on,” the excited Rebecca promises as she pulls in behind Tamara's blue vette. When her car stops, the gathering crowd moves further away from the escalating scene. Some students even walk across the street in an attempt to avoid the situation altogether.

  Caroline and Rebecca get out of the car. They both quickly walk to the location of confrontation. Tamara has her rings on her right hand. Rings, specifically, designed and purchased for keeping wayward females in line. The jagged stones in each ring are for cutting. Their sole purpose is to compensate for her lack of strength in that arm; since, the tall girl is dominant left. But it would be a grave mistake for anyone to believe her right was somehow insufficient in battle. Her right is not weak, whatsoever. It's just not as strong as her left. The scary truth is that: Tamara's right arm has more strength than most girls have with both of theirs.

  But as cruel as the rings with stones can be, they are not nearly as morbid as the ones she wears on her left hand. They are high-end specialty class-style rings with raised lettering. Each of the four rings, whenever Tamara makes solid contact, leaves behind a phrase which undoubtedly identifies a Tamara's Submissive.

  Her pinky ring spells out her initials when viewed on a girl's face. The ring finger's ring has two quarter moons within its center. The downward arch spells the word 'Sub' while the upward arch has the word 'Missive'. Tamara's middle ring is designed like her ring finger's ring. However, the word 'Property' arches the top while the word 'Of' aligns the bottom. And, finally, the ring on her index finger leaves behind the initials 'S.V.C.' for all to read.

  Caroline notices campus security making their morning rounds. The security vehicle turns onto the block which leads up by the student's parking lot.

  “Security,” Caroline warns. She sees the frightened girl pinned by Tamara's long extended left arm against the driver's side door of her brown Chevy truck.

  “You've messed with the wrong girls, bitch,” the towering female threatens.

  “I said I was sorry,” the shaky student pleas, “I didn't know this was your spot. I really didn't.”

  “Tamara,” Rebecca regretfully confirms, “Not now. Security's coming.”

  Tamara pulls the girl by her cheap sweatshirt and slams her hard against the door.

  “This isn't over. Move this crap now,” the experienced fighter commands.

  “Get lost freaks or you can be next,” Jennifer orders to the stragglers who decided to stay behind and watch. The students disburse with no desire to stand against the S.V.C. Even the males refuse to disobey Jennifer's order. Everyone in the school understands the social powers wielded by the varsity cheerleaders. All they ever have to do is to play the help me card with the school's jocks. And then a team of high testosterone brutes make easy work of any potential problems.

  Tamara turns and walks back to her vette. Caroline and Jennifer stands next to Jennifer's BMW which is parked to the right side of the new girl's junk heap. Rebecca slides into the driver's seat of her car and puts it into reverse. She backs up a bit, throws the standard transmission into first gear, and pulls around Tamara's vette. She makes her counterclockwise rectangular lap around the parking lot to find her spot in the far right corner facing the school.

  Tamara backs her vette up in order to allow the boxed-in truck an exit. The dark hair of the threatened girl shadows her eyes, but it cannot cover the fear within them. Tamara locks a hard gaze as the new girl glances into her rear view mirror. She waits for the truck to back up and escorts the intruder around the parking lot – taking the same route as Rebecca.

  Honk. Honk.

  The truck's operator stops and peers into the rear view mirror again. Tamara is pointing to an open slot to her right. It is located at the furthest backside of the lot. The parking row sits opposite of the row in which she had just been parked. But they are separated by the distance of the rows between them.

  The distraught girl complies with Tamara's direction by pulling her truck into her new space. As the seconds continue ticking on, she realizes her attacker is not going to go anywhere. The reluctant teen steps out of her truck. She grabs her backpack, shuts the squeaky door, and stares down at the asphalt while she walks towards the front of the blue-metallic Corvette.

  Tamara revs her engine and jumps her car forward to cut off the girl's obvious path of avoidance.

  “No one parks back here without my permission,” Tamara informs, “You won't have to worry about anyone telling you to move from here. Pick any spot you want in this section. But I want to see you parked in the same spot every day. Understand me?”

  The new girl nods her understanding – keeping her eyes fixated comfortably upon a spot she sees on the parking lot.

  Gawd, you're beautiful.

  Tamara feels a rush of excitement associated with the inevitable forthcoming fight. The submissive potential this girl is exhibiting is highly intoxicating to the deeply tanned cheerleader. The taller female has never had her anticipation levels soar like this. She has, certainly, never looked upon a soon-to-be Tamara's Submissive beyond the realm of total violence, or beyond the realms of abusive power and control...until now. Something feels different.

  The cheerleader shakes off the rising excitement within her. She reasons her odd behavior is due to the massive amount of adrenaline coursing through her veins. The interruption by security has only increased her desire to make this girl suffer.

  “See you soon,” Tamara promises. She drives off and finishes her lap around the parking lot. The senior finds her parking spot, stops her car, closes the automatic top, and turns off the roaring V-8 engine. She, methodically, takes off each of the punishment rings and places them with care into her collector's case.

  The bleach blond checks her hair and face within the reflection of her open compact mirror. She closes it, drops it into her purse, and gets out. Tamara holds up her keychain, and clicks the car's alarm over her left shoulder. She joins her waiting sisters by Jennifer's BMW. Together, the Sisterhood walks across the street to make their grand entrance into West Hills High.

  * * *

  “I told you she was here,” Marcus declares in triumph.

  Jason watches his girlfriend pull into her parking spot. He scans left across the street and sees the captain's blue Mustang parked diagonally in the first two slots. He looks back to the second most coveted spot on S.V.C. Row. His girlfriend's Corvette holds the end position.

  The row has twenty slots and only sixteen female S.V.C. cheerleaders, but they maintain claim over the entire row. It is a tradition passed down from year to year. The school turns their heads about it because of the enormous amount of influence and power the girl's parents hold within the southern California community. Even Jason Deveraux can't park on S.V.C. Row. Upset the girls – you upset their parents. Upset the parents – someone just might lose their job. And whenever someone's job is at stake, no one gets away with tilting the balancing scales of something as mundane as a parking space.

  Something new, however, is the back row of the parking lot. Ever since Tamara began her freshman year, the row has been emptied and replaced with girls who are at the S.V.C.'s beck and call.

  During her freshman year, Tamara didn't qualify to be a member of the S.V.C. All freshman cheerleaders are required to remain as junior varsity. This included Rebecca, Caroline, and Jennifer. Tamara and the others were too young to drive anyway. So in this aspect, it didn't even matter. The parking lot was by all rights a minute point for them. But still yet, the four girls found a way to announce their arrival. And they set a standard that they were to n
ot be taken lightly.

  The first Tamara Submissive was a girl in the junior class. She was an unruly female who bullied the younger girls – always the smaller and weaker ones. Three months into Caroline's, Jennifer's, Tamara's, and Rebecca's freshman year, the bully made a terrible mistake. She shoved little Caroline against a locker and slapped her. It was for no other reason than to cause Caroline to be humiliated and thereby becoming socially owned by the girl. And had not Rebecca seen the event with her own eyes, Caroline might not have said anything about it. The bully had a way of picking out the girls who would remain silent. But Rebecca is anything, but silent. And Caroline is her bff.

  Whenever, Tamara found out from Rebecca what had happened, West Hills High would never be the same. Forever changed. Or at the very least, the backside row of the student's parking lot would be.

  Rumor has it that Tamara waited by the bully's car after school that day. She didn't announce anything about her intentions. And the beating the bully received was unprecedented by any girl fight prior to this. In fact, there's not one single girl fight story with this much blood associated to it in all of West Hills High's history. Not until the first Tamara's Submissive was created, that is.

  Tamara is not only tall, but she is an accomplished fighter. No one except her friends knows if she is actually trained or not. And she denies it to Jason. But to anyone who has ever witnessed a girl fight, the answer is obvious. Jason knows she is. And for whatever reasons, she chooses to not speak about it. But that's her choice and he's fine with it. In fact, it's kind of sexy having a girlfriend who might give Lara Croft a run for the money.