Resurrection: A Dark Fantasy Tale (Kindred #1)

by Zed Amadeo

Scrying. A method used to locate people by staring into a specially treated pool of water. Usually only possible to locate a person’s general vicinity if you have a strong emotional connection to them. Even with those criteria, it didn’t always work. I was determine to try anyway.

  I stared into that bowl of water until my eyes went blurry, filling myself with the red-hot anger evoked by memories of that night. Hours later, after a substantial amount of effort, one of them came into focus, a fuzzy image formed in the water’s surface: Joe, sitting in a well-known restaurant that was some distance away from here. First target located.

  “You have wonderful things ahead of you,” Alejandra said to me. “I am absolutely certain. Know that when you return, a world of opportunity awaits. Your true fate has only just begun.” A surge of unexpected emotion rushed through me. A person that I had only known for little more than a month, and yet she had given more than the people that I had known for the entirety of my life. She gave me a kiss on each cheek and a last-minute gift of a witch’s broom before I embarked on my journey.

  My mind filled with wondrous visions of the road ahead. I already knew my destination, but the path to it was filled with endlessly satisfying possibilities. First step was finding Joe. All I had to do was stake out the restaurant, making sure to keep myself hidden, until I spotted him getting a meal. After containing my knee-jerk reaction to obtain my revenge then and there, I waited until he left, and followed him to his apartment. He left his windows open, blinds barely shut. I could see him sitting in the living room, watching television and lifting a small dumbbell with a glazed-over expression. His face took me back to that night. I broke myself out of that and reminded myself that I was the powerful one now. He would soon be the one cowering in fear.

  I needed to start the night off right. I picked up the closest rock I could find and flung it at his window, shattering the glass. He dropped his dumbbell and pressed himself against the floor. When he yelled out “Who’s there?” with his voice trembling, I knew that my first step had been successful. I walked toward the shattered window, savoring every step that I took toward his frightened form. By the time he repeated his question, I had already crawled through the nearly empty pane. He scrambled up from the floor and pressed himself against the wall farthest from me.

  “What do you want from me?” he yelled. “Please, I’ll give you money, anything you want.”

  “You really don’t remember me?” I asked him. He stared at me, eyes full of confusion. “You don’t remember the innocent woman that you and your friend left for dead?” His eyes widened and lit up with a combination of fear and recognition.

  “But how did you-” he began. His chest expanded and deflated faster with every passing moment.

  “Magic.” I asked.

  “Magic?” he asked.

  “Yes, Joe,” he said. “You’re not the only one with that ability.” He remained still as I continued to walk toward him.

  “Please,” he begged. “I-I don’t even mess with that shit anymore. Not since we got kicked out. I’ve really changed. I’ve taken my life in a new direction. I’m-I’m sorry okay? Things got out of hand. We never-“

  “-Intended for me to survive?” I asked. “I don’t intend for you to survive either. Let’s hope I do a better job that you did.”

  “Pl-” The last sound I allowed him to make before I struck out at him. Relying upon the anger invoked by his vile presence, I began to prepare myself for the ritual to come. He continued to stare at me with increasing fear and confusion at the knife that I now held, raising his palms toward me in defeat and revealing the complex brand that had been burned into both of his hands. I wasn’t going to kill him just yet. I had other uses that I needed to get out of him first.

  I dropped down to the floor, closed my eyes, and pulled myself out of my old skin with significantly less pain than before. He stared at my new form in horror, even as I grabbed his arms and forced him to look into my dark eyes, placing myself into his body.

  A deluge of Joe’s memories rushed into my mind. The faint visions of events that were useless to me, zipping uncontrollably past my mind. I stopped the stream when it came to the night of my attack.

  I could see everything from his view. Flying through the air with my best friend Seymour at my side. He had just spotted an ordinary woman in her car, looking up at us. Our temporary invisibility spells had worn off. That night, I hadn’t been quite in the mood for our usual shenanigans. I wanted to leave her alone. Seymour told me that he had other plans. He told me to lighten up and have some fun. So I followed him. He had been right. That night had been a blast, reminding me of the good old days. Surely, more of our secret nightly adventures were sure to come afterward.

  I saw the news before Seymour did. The gristly result of our nightly fun laid out in a broadcast story. The woman had been found alive. I called him, panicking, asking him what we should do because sooner or later we would be found out. He told me to calm down and relax, everything would be alright, only I couldn’t understand how.

  I used to think that something was wrong with me. Ever since my early days of study, I had always had compulsions to hurt with my magic. I had kept them hidden for so long, until I had found a brother in Seymour for that reason. He and I thought in deliciously similar ways. Whenever possible, we would allow ourselves to give into our urges. Seymour helped nurture my dark side. He was the first to finally understand me.

  We had always been in the business of ordinary bystanders. Mostly women. Broads were where we had the real fun. As long as they didn’t survive, we were good, satisfied with the fact that the boring mundane world would never be able to discover the source of these disappearances. They would never believe that it had been warlocks.

  Now that we were going to be caught, I would lose everything. All of the potential I used to have ahead of me. I was going to be a great warlock. I just needed to get this violence out of my system. I hadn’t been quite there yet, but soon. I could’ve made it.

  Alejandra, the closest thing we had to a leader, called a community meeting. She gathered all of the witches and warlocks in Greenville to watch as two of her associates held Seymour and I down, forcing our palms outward, so that they could burn the mark into our flesh. I almost passed out from the pain. When I became fully conscious again, the crowd was still around me, and she had ordered our banishment.

  Among our community, news spreads fast. Seymour and I would never be able to re-integrate ourselves. He wanted to fight against her, but even he knew that that was a stupid idea. She was far more powerful than the two of us combined. Seymour and I went our separate ways: he to a city a few hours away, and me to my current apartment. I had only gone to visit him one time since. Being around him reminded me of the dark part of myself that I wanted to bury.

  I had lost my place. The world had discovered the darkness within me and had rejected me for it. Now I would have to start from scratch, all because Seymour and I had fucked up and that broad had lived. If only she hadn’t decided to pop back into my life as I was making progress.

  With that last thought, I wrenched myself out of his body and went back into my own, having gotten the information that I needed most from him. I stood above him, waiting for something to happen. After only a few moments, the shimmering white haze of his essence descended through the ceiling and crashed back into his body, jolting him awake. I pulled my knife back out to silence him.

  “Make a single sound,” I told him, “And I will make this as painful for you as it was for me.” His eyes went wide, but he did not speak a word.

  I turned his TV all the way up before I got to work, slashing at his flesh to carve the appropriate symbol and watching the blood gush from him. He flailed around at first, instinctively trying to fight back. By the end, his eyes rolled up into his head and his entire body shivered. I chanted the ancient words that I had rehearsed that would turn his death into my power. He broke his silence and pleaded with me, asking me why I was doing this
.

  "It’s only fair that I repay you the great favor that you did for me,” I told him. I took in a breath before I stabbed him one last time, almost silently, blood spilling everywhere, staining the carpet. I placed my palms into the puddle, lifted them up to my face, feeling his strength pour into me. His spilled blood was so precious.

  As I watched his life force leave his body, dripping out through his bloody wounds and streaming into me, I thought that I had never experienced such a pleasant sensation. I soaked up the moment, savoring his spirit while I waited for his body to begin disintegrating into nothing.

  The moment of Joe’s death and mystical evaporation should have helped to quench my thirst for revenge. But killing Joe became an appetizer, a mere teaser to a greater sensation. Without looking back, I set my sights on Joe’s old pal, Seymour.

  My only plan with Seymour had consisted of a vague bloodlust. Joe had felt guilty, but more so because he was caught than for the actual act that he had committed. Of the two, Seymour had been the ringleader. I needed to make Seymour’s end extra satisfying. I hopped on my broom and began the next step in my journey.

  It was morning by the time that I arrived in Seymour’s city. Joe had given me some other crucial information about Seymour that I would use to my benefit: he thought himself a womanizer, a mini-Casanova even with the girlfriend in his life, and he could not resist the charms of a busty redhead. My hair color was the wrong shade for his taste, but I held the power to change that. I found a woman that more or less fit the description and followed her until she was alone before I took over her body. I tucked my own shell away in the woman’s house, revealed to me during the flood of her uninteresting memories.

  I hadn’t even gotten to Seymour’s house and I was already feeling some satisfaction. I was bracing the streets with my presence, gathering stares wherever I went, tall, curvy, and gorgeous. On my way to Seymour’s, it began to rain, making my plan that much better. Lots of rain made for wet clothes, damp hair, and sparkling eyes. I went from gorgeous to stunning. As I strolled up to Seymour’s doorstep, I braced myself for whatever emotions might arise from seeing the ringleader again. Soon after, I was propelled by how sweet revenge had been so far, and how delicious it would taste once carried out again.

  Seymour answered on the second knock. Joe had cared enough to change his appearance since the attack. Seymour had not. He looked almost exactly as awful as he had before. I realized, just as I was gazing at him with a short-lived fear, he was staring back at me with wonder.

  “Who are you?” he asked me. I sprinted away from the associations I had come to make with the sound of his voice. I drew upon every lusty stereotype that I could think of to create another persona, pursing my lips and attempting to sound as stupid and sultry as I could.

  “I’m lost,” I said, drawing out each letter to full effect.

  “Lost?” he asked, staring at my lips. I slowly nodded.

  “My car broke down,” I said, “And now I’m soaking. Can you believe it?” I watched his eyes drop down from my face to my breasts and beyond. I could have been threatening his life and he still would have been too distracted to do anything.

  “Can I use your phone?” I asked. “Mine is all out of power.” He gulped and then stared at me like he was about to drool, finally nodding his head and allowing me inside.

  “So, uh, what’s your name?” he asked.

  “Gina,” I said. I turned around to take a look at him. His face gave me little reason to think that my false name had tipped him off to anything odd. He obviously wasn’t thinking with the head on his shoulders. I decided to play up my lustfulness a little more.

  “And you’re…let me guess, Seymour, right?” I asked as I moved toward him. He crinkled his face with confusion.

  “How did you know?” he asked.

  “I know a lot of things,” I said. I pretended to shiver. Seymour instantly attended to me. He placed a hand on my shoulder as if he were capable of being a genuinely concerned person.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked me.

  “I’m just cold,” I said. “Cold and wet. Can I use your phone? I’ll be out of here in no time.”

  “My phone?” he asked.

  “Your phone,” I repeated.

  “Yeah, my phone,” he said. “I could get that for you.” He ran out of the room and disappeared from my sight. While he was gone, I glanced around his living room, looking for anything that could prove useful. All I found was a row of photos hung on his wall of him and his girlfriend, to whom he apparently had no problem being unfaithful.

  Seymour was about to teach me an important lesson: People rarely ever change. I couldn’t have been staring at his photo for more than a moment before he came up behind me and shoved me onto the floor, flat on my stomach so that I couldn’t see him. He held both of my wrists in one of his hands in a painful, vice-like grip, using his other hand to pin my neck down. Seymour had taken me by surprise for the very last time.

  “You will do as I say,” he said, “Otherwise I will make you realize that I am capable of doing things that will make you wish you hadn’t come here in the first place. Do you understand me?” His words wished to frighten me, but I had already promised myself that I would never let this man scare me again.

  “Do you understand me?” he repeated. I didn’t think that he was worthy of being given a direct answer. I retreated into myself in concentration, picturing his hands as clearly as I could.

  “Alama,” I yelled. His hands suddenly released me, and he jumped back in pain.

  “What the fuck is going on?” he yelled, staring at his hands, which had been burned just like Joe’s. “How did you do that?” He clenched his hands into fists and came toward me.

  “Hariyak,” he screamed, and released two small streams of fire onto me, singing my skin. I barely even noticed the pain.

  “Who are you?” Seymour yelled. “Why are you here?”

  “Did you really not recognize me?” I asked. “Not even in this form? You didn’t think that the name that I gave you was a bit odd?”

  “Look,” he said, “Why don’t you just leave right now before things get really nasty?”

  “No,” I told him. “That’s the not the way that this works. I can’t just walk away and forget after what you did to me.”

  “What are you-” He quickly shut his mouth.

  “Dina,” he said, sounding more surprised than scared. I was about to change that.

  “I didn’t think that exile was a harsh enough punishment,” I said.

  “I’m going to warn you now, Dina,” he said, “You really shouldn’t do this. Whatever you’re trying to do here is pointless. I almost killed you once, I can sure as hell do the deed again. Except this time, I’ll do it right.”

  “Pointless?” I asked. “Really?” My momentary hesitation gave him the opportunity to gain the upper hand.

  “You think you’re so powerful now?” he said. “You’re just as helpless as you were before. I can already see the seed of darkness growing within you. Killing me isn’t going to make that go away.” His little speech caught me off guard. He came toward me faster than I could react and grabbed my throat with his hand, looking dead into my eyes. All I could see was the darkness that existed within him alone.

  “I don’t know how you found this new body,” he said, “But rest assured, it’s not going to make it through the night.” As he started to choke me, I used the last of my breath to whisper Alama. He didn’t fully let go of me this time, but loosened his grip enough for me to breathe and fight back. I held out my hand to recite the word that would make him lie still for a few seconds, Sokara, the same method he had once used on me, and froze him in his current position.

  Seymour began reciting something almost as soon as I spoke the word. Immediately afterward, a force came from my side and knocked me onto the floor. An invisible attacker, no doubt summoned by Seymour, that he had waited until this moment to unleash. It did not remain invisible to me
for long. I could see the faintest whisper of smoke hanging in the air, the physical manifestation of whatever ethereal spell Seymour had invoked for his protection.

  After becoming mobile again, Seymour came toward with me with a vengeance in his eye. I had little precious time in which to think of my next action. I decided that it was time for me to let go of this pretty girl persona and release the monster within me. I separated myself from the moment at hand and imagined myself tearing through the body of this beautiful redhead. With a small amount of pain, I was finally free.

  There was nothing like standing above Seymour in my true form, so shocked that he was unable to move. Seymour was no longer the grand ringmaster of the show.

  “You bitch!” he yelled. “I should have killed you when I had the chance!” Seymour seemed to regain some of his previous focus and began tossing spells at me, none of which was enough to keep me down for long, while he tried to get away. I used one of my claws to strike him against the wall, which only stopped him for a moment.

  If I had been a normal body, in any other setting, his spells probably would have been enough to incapacitate me, perhaps even kill me. But then, with my anger and adrenaline soaring to new heights, nothing could keep me from moving forward toward my goal. My mind barely registered any of the pain or damage being done to my new grotesque figure. Unfazed by any of Seymour’s actions, I clawed him a few times before letting him escape just to see him run around in desperation.

  As I chased him, his spells growing stronger as his energy grew weaker, he somehow found the breath to yell threats at me, which softened as he became increasingly fatigued and frustrated until the only noise he made was panicked breathing. When I cornered him in a bedroom upstairs, I found him lying on the ground, his eyes brimming with fear, panting and bleeding profusely.

  “You’re a lot harder to kill than Joe was,” I said. He couldn’t have hid the surprise in eyes if he tried.

  “You killed Joe?” he asked, before suddenly switching gears.

  “What Joe and I did was wrong,” he began. “Sick and terrible. But what you’re about to do to me is also terrible.” I did not believe his sincerity for even a moment. When I looked at his face, all I saw were more lies.

  “I don’t believe you Seymour,” I said, my voice far more demanding in this form than it could have ever been in my previous life. “You tried to force yourself onto me again, and now you’re here begging for your life. You’re not sorry about what you did. You’re just sorry that I lived.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” he said, dropping the masquerade. “I don’t feel the least bit bad about what I did. I enjoyed it. We made you, Dina. You wouldn’t be what you are now without us.” I lunged toward Seymour and grabbed his chest with my clawed fist.

  “You didn’t make me into anything,” I said. “You tried to crush me. But that’s all in the past. You no longer have any control over me. You want to know who helped me become this? Alejandra. The same woman who took everything away from you. But you, Seymour, don’t have control over anything. Not even yourself.” I squeezed into his chest a little, letting his blood flow like raindrops.

  “Your time has come,” I said. I threw him onto the floor. He did not move. I started chanting the sacred words, using one of my claws to carve the symbol into his flesh. He tried to be strong and stubborn at the beginning, not revealing any of his pain. By the time, I had finished the proper rites, he was screaming just as much as I had. When the circle was cast, I stepped away to admire my work.

  In his last moments, Seymour seemed to accept his fate as his body released the last drops of blood within him. When his arms dropped down to his sides, I was able to catch another glimpse of the branded mark of exile that he and Joe shared. I reveled in his blood, much like I had with Joe, feeling my strength grow with each passing moment, waiting for his body to dissolve. Nothing could match my rush. I was the most powerful being in the world, perhaps even in the universe. I had defeated the last of the two warlocks who had brought on the darkest days of my life. Not even returning to my old body could bring me down. It was just a shell. No matter what form I took, the fact still remained that I had taken on my attackers, against all odds, and emerged victorious.

  I had fulfilled my purpose.

  All I had to do now was return home.

  Before I could make my final trip to Alejandra’s, I needed to make one last stop to see my sister. I couldn’t be sure of what her reaction would be. I hoped that her joy at seeing me again would be enough to eclipse whatever she felt regarding my disappearance and sudden reappearance. I knocked on the door with slight hesitation.

  When she opened the door, we both stood motionless and silent. After a couple of excruciatingly awkward moments, she threw her arms around me, crying on my shoulder. Soon I was crying too.

  “Dina,” she said, “You’ve finally come home.”

  We sat across from each other in the dining room. Though the place was familiar, the emotions that I felt were not. I didn’t understand my presence there anymore. I felt too much like I was trying to force myself into a home where I had never really belonged. I had no need for this place anymore.

  “We were so worried about you,” she told me. “All of us.”

  “But the letter I sent you,” I said. “Didn’t you get that?”

  “Of course I did,” she said. “But we were still so worried! Don’t you understand that Dina? You had that horrible thing happen to you and then you suddenly went missing! Where were you all this time? How could you just send us a letter without even telling us where you had gone?”

  “I’m sorry Kayla,” I said, “But I just couldn’t stay here anymore. Do you really want to know the truth?”

  “Yes, Dina,” she said. “After months of worrying, of course I do.” I forced myself to continue.

  “I was training,” I began. “To become a witch. I was in this city this entire time. This wonderful woman, Alejandra, helped me with everything.” She seemed to take all of this surprisingly well. I cut myself off without bothering to further explain my forays into blood magic or revenge, unsure of how she would handle those topics. After I took a pause from telling my story, Kayla launched into her own.

  “This town is going downhill,” she said. “There’s been so much crime lately. You’re not safe in the streets. You’re not even safe in your own home. Murders are happening left and right. Someone’s house got burned down. People keep getting robbed. You remember what happened when our home was attacked. They don’t seem to ever catch the criminals, either. It’s like no one is safe here anymore.” It was if she hadn’t heard a single word that I had said.

  “Dina, I don’t know where you went, and at this point, I’m not going to ask,” she said. “Mom and dad know all about your evening wanderings and how you used to talk to yourself at night. They agreed with me when I told them that you needed more help than we could give you.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “You’re not well,” she said. “It’s been several months, and you’re still not well. We’re all really worried about you. We really want you to get better.”

  “But I am better, Kayla!” I said. “I know it’s hard for you to understand, but-“

  “-You’re right,” Kayla said. “I understand that this…fantasy of yours might be a coping mechanism, but-“

  “No!” I yelled. “This isn’t a fantasy. This is real! It’s the only reason why I’m still here now!”

  “Like I said before,” she said, “We all want you to get better.”

  “You really don’t understand,” I said. “I am better. Much better than I’ve ever been.” I got up to go. I didn’t see the point in staying any longer.

  “Dina,” Kayla said, following behind me, “Where are you going?”

  “I only came to say goodbye,” I told her. “You won’t have to worry about me anymore.”

  Kayla followed me outside for a bit, pleading with me not to go. I ignored her and kept wal
king forward. She stopped following me once I reached the road.

  I should have known that going back “home” would be a mistake. All my family wanted was to hide me away in an institution and watch Kayla pursue her dreams. I used to wonder why our parents had even bothered having me after they had already created the flawless being that was my sister. You couldn’t create perfection twice. Even at my best, all that I was ever capable of being was second fiddle. They would be better off without the blemish of my existence, and I was on to bigger and better things.

  I approached Alejandra’s house full of anticipation. My previous decision felt so real. I needed to see her and tell her everything, and then all would finally be right with my life. But as I walked the path to her house, it became increasingly obvious that something wasn’t right. Even from afar, I could see the hints of destruction that awaited me, not fully revealed until I stood in front of the carnage. I thought back to my sister’s comment about someone’s house being burned down recently, and everything hit me with a force that almost knocked me over.

  The grand estate that I had come to see as home no longer existed.

  What stood before me now was a shell of a house, burned to a jagged crisp, the outer walls scorched with the remnants of fire. Her once secure home had become available for anyone to enter. I could have stood there for days staring into the devastation, trying to make some sense of it, but my mind refused to believe what my eyes were seeing. But even if her house had been burned down, that didn’t mean that anything had happened to Alejandra, right? She could be somewhere else right now, being as potent as she had always been. I was not given much time to continue creating this fantasy. My illusion fell to pieces when I caught sight of a message scrawled across one of the walls:

  We are the force of justice.

  Those who do not follow will be punished

  No matter the transgression.

  Alejandra has fallen.

  You must change your ways.

  You have received your warning.

  Alejandra. Alejandra has fallen. Her house burned down. She was gone. I dropped down to my knees as the news rolled over me. My throat closed up, and the tears rushed into my eyes.

  Alejandra was gone.

  “Well the short of it is that she was murdered,” the woman told me. A neighbor from nearby, who had found me in fetal position in front of the burnt shell of the house. She had taken me inside and offered me some tea and cookies, though I couldn’t bring myself to ingest any of it.

  “About a day ago,” she explained, “This crowd swarmed outside of her house. Burned it right down, destroyed everything in it. Lots of people around this neighborhood are magical folk. We handle our own messes. We never bother with the mundane police or anything like that. This group, they killed Alejandra, paraded her body around here as an example before they destroyed what was left of her. Took the daughter and ran.”

  “Who did this?” I asked. The woman shrugged her shoulders.

  “No one knows who they really are,” she said. “They seem to think of themselves as vigilantes of a sort.”

  “Why Alejandra then?” I asked. “She was a leader here. Why would anyone want to do this to her?”

  “They claimed that she had committed ‘transgressions of magic,’” she said. “I think that whatever you do with your spells and potions is your business. Who am I to judge? But when you’re in the kind of business that Alejandra is in, you make as many enemies as you do friends. Who knows if she really committed any kind of ‘transgression?’ Someone probably just wanted her power is all. Something like this was bound to happen sooner or later.”

  Transgressions of magic? I thought again about the strange and unexplained sounds I had heard while in Alejandra’s house. Her cryptic conversations. The strange behavior of her daughter. My mind was swimming with confusion. The tears left my eyes in big, heaving globs. I refused to believe that she was dead. She had always seemed too powerful to be brought down by something as ordinary and human as death.

  “Are you okay honey?” the woman asked me. I shook my head.

  “Take your time,” she told me. “You’re free to stay until morning.” I accepted her offer.

  Alejandra was dead. Even though I replayed the thought repeatedly within my mind, it still refused to sink in. I was never going to be able to tell her about my success or have her teach me more of her ways. I was truly alone, and even more uncertain and fearful for my future.