Dark Diary

by Anastasia,P.

  She circled me, my steps mirrored hers in defiance, and my wings flexed.

  “You can’t kill me, Matthaya. I am much, much older than you. Do you think this is the first time one of my creations has turned against me?”

  “What are you saying, Ve’tani? That I’m not the only one like this?” She stepped closer to me and I twitched, fighting the urge to take off her head with a swift crack of a wing, but her words piqued my interest.

  A lanky hand attempted to trace along the top arch of my left wing, so I flapped it backward and out of her reach. “You may think a few centuries is a long time to live,” she started, “but I’ve lived much longer. Years before I made you, I made another who was nearly as strong.”

  I didn’t believe her.

  “Where is he, then?”

  “She,” she corrected, “is dead.”

  I gritted my teeth and bared my fangs with a snarl.

  “I tore off her wings… and destroyed her. Just… like… that.” She snapped her fingers and flicked her head to the side, throwing her shaggy blond tresses back.

  “Why?” I asked. The brutal killer in me yearned to lash out and I imagined my nails pressing into her throat.

  “Because she was more powerful than me and because she wanted to be the only one with that power. Don’t think I won’t do the same to you if you get in my way again. We are no longer bound by the formalities of our kind, Matthaya. My patience with you has worn thin.”

  I scanned our surroundings for an alternative way to get to her and listened closely to the ambient noises around us. Kathera’s doings still flashed in and out of focus, provoking my old bloodlust to overcome me. I had to relax or I’d risk letting it possess me again.

  Ve’tani sighed audibly and deliberately. “You disappointed me. I wanted you to be so much more.” She turned her back.

  I lunged for her.

  My hands latched around her sides and my nails dug furiously into her ribs as I jerked her body toward me. Blood flowed down my fingers and she choked. It was the first time I had ever sensed fear in her.

  “I will never be like you, Ve’tani!” I growled close to her ear, pulling her in and running my nails deeper into her flesh until they were stopped by rib bones. She groaned and shoved backward into me. Something rigid knocked into my chest.

  It can’t be.

  I swerved my wing in front to keep her from escaping as I released one hand and brought it up against the curve of her back. The tips of my fingers traced over a hard protrusion in her lower shoulder blade. I moved to her other side and there, on her other shoulder blade, was another rough, jagged stump.

  Ve’tani, too, had wings—or had had them at one time.

  What could have been powerful enough to take them away from her?

  While I ruminated on the thought, she pulled away and cowered—her hands embraced her shoulders as if she had been raped of her dignity.

  “Ve’tani?” I’d never seen her so vulnerable, so naked with humility. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I was more curious than angered.

  She straightened up and cleared her throat, dusting a flattened hand anxiously down her cloak.

  “We all have our secrets, Matthaya.” She averted her eyes from me.

  With a shrug and a grimace, which she tried to hide, she slunk off into the darkness.

  Speechless and awestruck, I was hesitant to follow.

  SHE HAS TO FIND HERSELF?

  How long will it take?

  My own period of darkness had lasted decades. Would I be strong enough to endure that much of Kathera’s evil?

  I knew she would quickly become a smart killer, but it wouldn’t be long before the police realized the recent murders were all connected. The last thing I needed was someone snooping around my side of town and asking too many questions. I couldn’t leave her to her own wickedness, though. I had to try something—anything!

  To make things worse, I was barely able to sleep as she continued to stir long past dawn. She had somehow acquired a lack of sensitivity to the sun and that left more time for her to kill. I couldn’t believe how much blood had been shed in just one week following her change.

  Had I really done the same? I couldn’t even remember.

  Long periods of abstinence and physical struggle had made me capable of going days without blood. But now, this constant taste within me made it more and more difficult to adhere to my new ways. Every drop of blood from each new victim tempted me even as I slept. I awoke weary and famished.

  As darkness finally came, I made my way back out into the streets. I had no choice but to confront her again—in whatever persona she chose to take.

  “Kathryn!” It pained me to call out such a beautiful name so spitefully.

  Her presence was strong and she wasn’t far from Restless Ink. The shop had been closed since Derek’s death, but she lingered near it.

  Old habits die hard.

  “Come out and face me, Kathryn!” I called again and waited.

  It was quiet, but I felt a stirring deep inside. Now that we were linked, Kathera could not hide her emotions anymore.

  “You do not have to yell for me to hear you, Matthaya.” Her silhouette appeared faintly from out of the distance. It was quite different than before as her body was draped in soft wispy lengths of scarlet fabric and black lace. Layers of her dress moved with the wind as she stepped, and her bare feet were disturbingly silent against the concrete. The golden cross pendant glimmered near her collarbone. Lengths of her curled red locks flowed down over the curves of her breasts and the fair skin of her low neckline taunted me with visions of our past.

  She was stunning.

  And she now looked even more like Kathryn…

  Her hair had been curled the same way. Her posture, an exact reflection. Even her accent and the way her lips formed her words were spot on.

  However dark and twisted a manifestation of her she had become, there was no doubt that it was Kathryn my eyes gazed upon.

  She approached me.

  “Why have you come?” she asked, brushing a few fingers through my hair and over my ear. “Had a change of heart, perhaps?” Her naked shin teased my leg.

  “You know why I am here.” I tilted my face away from her hand.

  “Yes. Your incessant brooding is difficult to ignore.”

  “You have to stop this.”

  “No.”

  A soft growl escaped my clenched teeth.

  “Give me a reason,” she added with a cold smirk.

  As much as I had longed to have Kathryn back, I would have rather seen her dead than as the beast before me.

  “Am I not reason enough for you to stop?” It was a stupid response, but the first one to come to mind.

  She laughed.

  Where was Kathera? Suppressed? Trapped inside herself? It wasn’t fair to either of them like this. As much as I hated to admit it, I would have to find a way to rid Kathera of the vengeful spirit of my beloved Kathryn.

  “And what of Kathera?”

  She paused and examined me with a quick glance. “What of her? Why is she of concern to you anyway?” She was more than irritated by my question. “You pledged yourself to me and only me.”

  “I lied.”

  “What?” Her eyes grew wide and their glow ignited with her anger. “How could you?” She scowled. “What does she possess that I do not?”

  It was hard to compare them, but I had to. Somehow.

  It was impossible to think of Kathryn as anything less than perfect. She could be nothing less than an exquisite beauty—with the gentleness of an angel and the heavenly passion to match. And Kathera—she had been just as beautiful inside and out, even when I had pretended to ignore it.

  Yes.

  Yes, she had been.

  “Gentleness,” I started, recalling everything I had once loved in her. “Patience. Morality. Beauty and creativity, of course.” Then I remembered. “Ah, creativi
ty.” I motioned to the storefront nearby and continued. “Kathera is an artist with talent beyond anything I have seen before. Her vision is vivid and real. She brings to life what others cannot. It was she who resurrected in me the love I once had for you. She made me remember how I once felt in your arms, when you wanted me with all of your heart and soul. She trusted me… like you once did.”

  “Traitor!” Kathera roared and took several steps back, almost stumbling toward the street.

  I followed her and continued. “You are the traitor, Kathryn. You have betrayed me and have lied to yourself.”

  I could smell the faint scent of her blood as it laced the tips of her nails when they pierced her clenched fist.

  “I have tasted Kathera’s kiss and it was everything I had cherished in yours. She granted me new reason to live—new reason to anticipate and not dread each night. And unless you let go of the jealousy you harbor, I can no longer be part of you. I will never again become one with the darkness that commands you.” I stretched out a hand toward her. “I will say it once more, Kathryn. Let me help you.”

  “It is not I who is in need of help,” she sneered. “The power you despise has made me strong. I no longer need to fear. How can you deny such a gift?”

  She was right. Immortality grants immense courage, and at the same time, deafens the senses to the cost. It had, at one time, been a comfort to know that I need not fear anything in the night, but that delusion had given way eventually and I had realized there was a horror I could never escape—myself.

  “I could not at first,” I confessed and she gleamed curiously at me. “I have overcome it now and I refuse to be controlled by it.”

  “And you want me to let go, as well?”

  I nodded.

  Kathera stepped closer, her dress drifting with a ghostly flutter as the breeze rushed past, her eyes fixated on mine. She came within a few inches of my face and stared into me as if she were searching for something deep within my soul. Her lashes lowered and she brought her face close to the side of mine, our cheeks almost meeting.

  “No,” she replied with a cold whisper and then backed away. “I’ve heard enough, Matthaya.”

  “But…” I could hardly believe Kathryn was turning her back on me.

  Her head shook firmly in disagreement. “Leave me be.” A flick of her hand made my stomach turn.

  She was done negotiating.

  I had no other choice but to let her go. All I could do was watch as my precious sun slipped through my grasp and back into the darkness. She was ignorant of my true intentions and unable to fathom the loyal passion I still had for her.

  The past days spent alone after she had disappeared made me realize how badly I needed Kathera back in my life. I had felt such remorse for what had happened to Kathryn centuries ago that the guilt had become necessary to keep me going. I had only been fooling myself, when I had really needed to let her go and face the truth.

  Kathryn and Kathera were very different people driven by the same cosmic force and bound to the same thread as me. Though they may have shared a soul, they had been shaped and molded by their centuries, each taking on her own unique self. As much as I wanted to imagine a life again with my Kathryn, I had to accept that Kathera had already written her own story, only weaving me into it because of the love she had retained from her life as Kathryn. She was beautiful, all the same, and even though I had lost the ability to feel the nuances of mortal attraction, I still found myself in love with her.

  Now… all I wanted was to tell her what I felt.

  All I wanted was Kathera.

  "KATHERA?"

  There it was again!

  That damned name—Kathera!

  Who was Kathera?

  My head jerked toward the source of the voice—a middle-aged man in an unzipped, black leather jacket. He was in his forties, shaved bald, and of a heftier build. The reflection of his sunglasses beneath the streetlamp distorted my vision and I shielded my eyes with my hand from the halos of white light.

  “Who are you?” I squinted and slunk back into the shadows to see him better.

  “You know me,” he said, “don’t you? Don’t you remember me? I heard the shop closed down and I was kinda worried about you after what happened to Derek an’ all.”

  Derek? Who was Derek?

  “I’m really sorry about everything, Kathera,” he added softly. The man came closer.

  I panicked.

  The force of me tackling him to the ground knocked the air completely from his lungs and he strained beneath my weight to get a word out.

  He coughed hard.

  “What’s wrong with you?” he groaned, his whole body pulsing with fear.

  My nails pressed deep into his shoulders and I watched crimson ooze up around my fingers as he cried out in pain and struggled to free himself from my grasp.

  I would kill him.

  “Please.” His voice was hoarse and shaky as he weakened. “Don’t you remember?” He brought a hand across his chest and reached for his other shoulder. I growled and snapped my teeth at him, making him withdraw his hand quickly.

  “Who is she?”

  “Wh… what?” His consciousness fluttered in and out from the loss of blood.

  Weak mortal.

  I hadn’t even bitten him… yet.

  “Who is Kathera?” I bared my fangs and breathed the words close to his face.

  “Uh…” His eyes were dark and wild and he looked very confused. “She’s…” He coughed again.

  Something was wrong. I flattened my palms against his chest and listened. His heart missed a beat and he choked on his words. It was irregular and fervent, thumping at odd intervals. Then, it skipped again.

  “Who is she?” I repeated, angry and impatient, lifting him a few inches up off the ground and then forcing him back down. I needed the answer before his heart gave out.

  “She’s…” His breaths were short and labored as he tried to look me in the eyes. The weight of my body crushing against his chest didn’t make things any easier.

  “She’s… you,” he wheezed with a wide-eyed gasp, and then his muscles released their tension. His clenched hands hit the ground and his heart stopped.

  That was fast…

  “Fool,” I sneered. He’d had no idea what he’d been speaking about.

  I stood and ran the tip of my index finger across my tongue.

  Old blood. Disgusting.

  My lips curled. It wasn’t worth it.

  I stood and turned to walk away.

  Wait.

  Something drew my attention. He had reached across himself for something—but what?

  My head shook.

  Surely it meant nothing.

  Still…

  I returned to the body and knelt down beside it. A firm shove with both hands rolled him onto his stomach and I pulled his jacket off from behind. Then, I rolled him onto his side and wrapped my fingers around the edge of his sleeve, sliding it up and folding it over his shoulder.

  The fabric wrinkled up across his skin, revealing the details of a large image. Wings, fire, elaborate colors of silver and blue with bright orange flames decorated a large gargoyle-like figure of a thin woman with bright colored eyes and a conniving grin.

  A demon? She was elegant and seductive—colorful and intricately drawn. She was almost familiar, but I could not remember where or how I could have seen such an image before. My fingers traced the edge of one of the demon’s wings, pressing a crease into the man’s skin.

  A violent buzzing sound filled my ears. I fell back and covered them with the palms of my hands. The buzzing was repetitive. I moaned, hearing it over and over again. I was unable to focus on reality as my hands tingled with the soft sensation of a gentle buzz within them.

  A vision of my fingers tracing the woman’s wings across the man’s shoulder clouded my mind. The colors were powerful and intense to me even in the darkness and I could see vividly
what they had looked like the day they had been used.

  What’s happening to me?

  Kathera?

  I could hear the name again and again. Someone was using it to call me.

  Who am I?

  The man’s body flopped back down onto his back while his sleeve remained rolled up. It was as if the demon girl was staring me in the face—taunting me with my lost memories and visions of someone I wasn’t.

  Or was?

  What the hell?

  Where am I?

  BUZZ.

  I tried to shake off the hysteria flooding my mind, but I couldn’t get the noise to cease.

  BUZZ.

  I cried out to the darkness and held my head in my hands. “Stop!”

  But the vibration continued.

  “Please, stop!” My cries did nothing to dampen the sound.

  To make things worse, he was back.

  “Come to mock me while I’m down, have you?” I pressed my hands into my temples and closed my eyes.

  Matthaya stayed at a distance and watched as my thoughts tortured me with images I could not remember.

  That man—his face—it looked familiar now and a horrible guilt roiled in my stomach. I couldn’t remember him well, but the accursed woman on his arm clawed at my conscience. She was a part of me and I hazily recalled her life being created with my hands.

  I’m not an artist… am I?

  Kathryn wasn’t…

  But this Kathera?

  Was she?

  Was I?

  “Who am I?” The words formed at my lips even as I tried to keep them to myself. Taking his chance, I felt Matthaya quickly appear beside me.

  “Come back to me, please,” he said, coaxing me with a quiet voice.

  He tried to take my hands into his own, but I hesitated to let him touch me. My knees scuffed against the concrete and smudges of blood appeared below them as I pulled away from Matthaya’s grasp.

  “Please,” he said again, this time scooting directly in front of me and wrapping his fingers around my wrists. “Look at me!”

  I shook my head and snarled, averting my eyes. The colors swirled inside me and I saw new images of creatures and monsters on the bodies of people I did not know. Their skin was beneath my fingers—their trust in my hands.