Dark Destiny

by Thomas Grave

  “It is?” Jared asked.

  Amber nodded. “Can you imagine what it will be like when she finds out? She’ll be crushed. As she once said, she will be ‘alone.’”

  He shifted his eyes away from her.

  “You remember what it was like when your mom passed. Getting hit with those random moments of sorrow that knocked you down. Uncontrollable fits of crying for minutes at a time. This will be worse for her and she will never get over it. You are her twin. You know the connection you two have.”

  He stared at the dirty barroom floor for a moment. Then he nodded. “What do you want from me?”

  “First, I have something else for you,” she said, lifting up a Soul.

  “A Soul?”

  “And it’s all yours.” She held it out toward him.

  Six months ago

  Amber had never been to Shahola Lake before and she found it surprisingly calming. Water trickled off the leaves from the previous night’s rain. A flock of birds chirped in the trees above her. The smell of pine and damp cedar flooded her senses. Normally, this type of scene wasn’t her thing—nature and all—but she couldn’t help finding this place soothing.

  She sat in a small dirt clearing, like a little beach, resting her head on her knees. Midnight lay curled up beside her, the cat’s black fur glistening in the dappled sunlight.

  Out on the lake, Amber caught the faint sound of calm water being disturbed. The cat arched her back and pointed her long tail, awaking from a sweet slumber. She stretched out one leg and then another, extending and retracting her claws as well. After repeating this process a few times, she seemed content.

  “Meow,” she uttered.

  Amber paid her no mind. Her violet eyes were locked onto her target. Out on the water, Makayla sat in a small two-person canoe, accompanied by Ethan. He had a paddle and made hard, strong strokes toward the center of the lake. Amber leaned forward, closer to the lake, and gently placed her hand in the water. There was a tremendous amount of energy in this water; she felt it sink into her fingers.

  “Meow.”

  “Midnight, be quiet. I need to concentrate,” Amber scolded. The cat stared at her with sparkling, golden eyes. Bowing her head in acknowledgment, Midnight took a few cautious steps back and lay down in the grass.

  Hands moving in slow circles just below the surface of the water, Amber shut her eyes and began mumbling phrases in an ancient dialect of a long dead civilization. Most spells were a simple matter for her; a wink of the eye, or a snap of her fingers and the deed was done. What she intended to accomplish today would require considerably more effort, as well as a decent amount of pain.

  In a trance, her head bobbed back and forth, a steady stream of archaic language that sounded like gibberish, pouring from her mouth. Winds tore through the small area. Scores of wet leaves and errant branches pelted Amber’s body. Nature commanded her to stop. The witch continued chanting, unfazed. Nothing would stand in the way of what she had come to accomplish.

  A rush of water shot into her fingertips and she convulsed under the strain on her body from freezing cold liquid. When she could take no more, she withdrew her hands from the water. Her eyes shot open and water cascaded from her fingertips on the opposite hand. Finally, it stopped.

  She dug her still dripping fingers into the ground, tracing a perfect scale replica of the lake before her. When she pulled her hand away, the outline came alive. It rippled and rolled, mimicking the exact movements of Lake Shahola. The spell was successful. Exhausted but satisfied, Amber collapsed in a heap, breathing heavily.

  Red lightning crackled in midair a few feet from her as time and space bent. The vortex opened and Cleo pushed through, walking though the lightning as though it wasn’t there. The sound of the Vortex closing sent a flock of birds fleeing into the clear blue sky.

  Amber had always been enthralled by Cleo’s legend, as well as by her beauty. It was rumored that Cleo’s death began with a cobra she’d induced to kill her, allowing her to become what she is today, a Seal. Amber knew that all Seals had powerful Gifts. She wasn’t exactly sure what Cleo’s Gift was, but she knew it was something fierce.

  “My lady,” Amber said, bowing her head. She weakly tried getting up from the sodden ground.

  Cleo waved her off. “You’re fine, my dear. No formalities when it’s just us.”

  “Thank you, my lady,” Amber said with another slight bow of her head.

  Cleo shifted her gaze toward the lake. “Where are we?” Off in the distance, Ethan had just stopped rowing.

  “Oh, I was just about to—”

  “I see,” Cleo interrupted. “And you’re sure about the match?”

  “Y—Yes, my lady. According to my spell, th—this Makayla’s Soul essence is almost a match with Sara’s. It’s uncanny.” Amber breathed in quickly through her nose but she was unable to mask her nervousness.

  “Interesting.”

  “If you put a hound dog next to Sara and Makayla, it could not tell whose scent is whose.”

  “And the boy?”

  “Um, yes my lady. He is indeed her soul mate. He easily took the bait and is very much in love,” Amber replied, turning her attention back toward the lake.

  “And this Makayla. She is truly happy?”

  “From everything I have gathered, yes. I’ve been monitoring them closely for the past three months. These two are truly at peace. No existing unresolved issues.”

  Cleo smiled in delight, “Excellent! Excellent news.”

  Amber averted her gaze from her matron. “I—It’s only to please you, my lady.”

  “Our informant is currently in place. After your work is done here, we will be transferring to Baltimore. It is time to activate Jared.”

  Amber understood immediately. Jared had been one of her pet projects for the past several years. She came to him when he was a small child and charmed him into helping Sebastian deal with a group of bullies. Amber smiled at that. She’d brought them together at the beginning, and she would break them apart at the end. Poetic actually.

  “Speaking of which . . .” said Cleo, snapping Amber from her thoughts. Cleo clenched her palm into a fist. When she opened it, a red flame danced in her hand. Gradually, the flame melted into a small vial with a red liquid inside. “This is Sara’s blood. I’ll leave you to the final step of matching their essences perfectly.”

  “Yes, my Queen.”

  “You’ve done good work here, my child,” said Cleo, holding out the vial. “I shall leave you to it.”

  Amber took the small vial of blood and brought it close to her chest. “Thank you, my lady.”

  Cleo cleared her throat. “I need to make my report to Nero.”

  Reaching to the seal on her arm, she touched the glowing rune resting at the three o’clock position. The vortex of doom, as Amber thought of it, roared to life, a fiery, crimson portal that led into pure darkness. Cleo pushed through it. It swallowed her whole and burst into embers that drifted to the ground.

  Amber breathed a sigh of relief. Her hands were shaking. Not many things rattled her, but Seals definitely could. After setting the vial on the earth next to her, she shook her head, clearing her mind.

  Now, it was time to get to the task at hand.

  She gazed out at the love birds in the canoe. Ethan appeared rapt and talked heatedly, likely professing his love. Makayla stood. Amber grinned wickedly and slammed her fist into the dark ritual circle she’d created, into the miniature version of the lake.

  A small geyser of water exploded from underneath the canoe. The two teenagers were caught off guard. The canoe flipped, dumping them into the water.

  “Come Midnight,” Amber said, hopping to her feet.

  “Meow.”

  Amber’s black boot stepped onto the water as Midnight jumped onto her shoulder. One step, then another. The water beneath her feet flowed wildly, gushing out around her, but she did not sink.

  She walked on the water, to the capsized canoe bobbing just beneath th
e lake’s surface. No sign of the love birds. The lake was far too deep to see the bottom.

  Amber withdrew the vial of Sara’s blood and glanced at her reflection on the water’s surface. She took a moment to admire herself. After all these years, she was still beautiful.

  The vial glinted in the bright sunshine and Amber held it up high. She admired the way the light penetrated the thick, red liquid.

  Midnight leapt off Amber’s shoulder and landed on the water. She sat on the surface and licked her paws.

  Amber tipped the vial, spilling its thick contents. The surface of the lake bubbled where the blood had fallen. The water turned red for an instant. Thunder rolled in and the clear blue sky instantly became cloudy.

  This was the beginning . . .

  Present day

  Wednesday, 7:55 am (Purgatorium)

  Jared stood on a rooftop and gazed across the skyline toward the TransAmerica Tower looming in the distance. In the clear night sky, the moon cast an eerie blue light, giving the floor to ceiling windows a ghostly glow and deepening the shadows around the tower.

  The wind howled, whipping his blond hair at his cheeks. He exhaled into the cold air, his misty breath dissipating slowly. His burnt orange sweater was gone, as was the person he used to be. He now wore a dirty white muscle shirt that contrasted against his now dark grey, almost black, skin. His right arm and shoulder with their lean yet well-defined muscles were now covered with white Shade tattoos in varying leaf silhouettes.

  The messenger bag Amber had given him hung heavy across his shoulders and back. Inside was the precious snow globe. Amber had given him specific instructions regarding what to do with it. For now, at least, the pervading thought on his mind was his sister.

  Alone.

  Hurt.

  Sad.

  Anger raged inside of him. Deep in his heart, his Soul grew darker, colder. And yet the immense dark energy that filled him made him feel more powerful than he’d ever been.

  He sighed. “You guys ready to do this?”

  Obsidian stepped forward, putting one foot onto the edge of the roof balcony as he leaned forward. He propped his elbow on his knee and flexed his grip on his black wooden staff. The glowing white flame tattoos on his face animated, writhing to life against the darkness of his skin. The red runes on his staff glowed, pulsing in time with his beating heart. He stared at the tower.

  “It is the master’s will,” Obsidian rumbled, his voice deep.

  Jared grunted. “Indeed it is.”

  The extraction would be easy, but the rest? With him knowing the truth about the Revenant, he understood what needed to be done, but he wasn’t sure if he could do it.

  Behind him, Kei also stepped forward. “Relax, young one. Our plan is balanced. We shall succeed.”

  Kei wore no shirt. His lean, muscular chest and torso were more ink than skin. Yet only three were white: barbed wire that wrapped around his neck and both biceps. They writhed, twisting in circles.

  “And besides,” said Obsidian, “we have back up.”

  The TransAmerica Tower stood resolute, its ominous presence daring them to come. Black clouds filled the sky far to the East, flashes of lightning dancing throughout as thunder rumbled in the distant sky.

  Jared arched an eyebrow and smiled.

  Time to get to work.

  Wednesday, 7:56 am

  Standing at the large glass window with his hands clasped behind his body, Raphael stared at the Baltimore city skyline. The humans’ architectural engineering and craftsmanship was amazing. The complexity of the downtown skyline superimposed over the empty vastness of Chesapeake Bay was breathtaking. How simple humans with their undeveloped minds were able to create something like this was a wonder, and Raphael took great joy at the beauty of the human species, much in the way a human might be charmed by the industriousness and accomplishments of the simple honey bee.

  Behind him, his brother grunted. This made him smile. Gabriel had a rough exterior, and that made him hard to really know. Still, Raphael knew that underneath his stern bravado was a passionate and wonderful heart. He wondered what thoughts went through Gabriel’s head today.

  “Everything okay, brother?” Raphael asked, turning around.

  Gabriel sat sullenly on a leather sofa, a manila folder open on his lap. He shook his head, frowning. “No.”

  “Anything I can help with?” Raphael asked, taking a step toward him.

  “These . . .” he scrunched up his nose in a sneer, “humans.”

  He exhaled. “Sometimes, I think I could go down and smite them all for this . . .” He gazed at the gothic ceiling, searching for the right word. “This treachery,” he hissed.

  Raphael pressed his lips together to keep from smiling and asked, “What treachery do you speak of?”

  “Some human Hollywood producer has just greenlit a film that would portray Angels, the messengers of God mind you, as going back in time and fighting the dinosaurs! How preposterous is that? Do they not know what it is they do?”

  Raphael sighed. “Brother, humans have doubts about everything. It’s within them to question, part of their make-up. And one avenue they use in which to attempt to answer their questions is art. Creativity.”

  “Art? Creativity? Bah!” Gabriel said, throwing the file onto the floor. Its contents scattered across the polished marble. “Art is a sunrise over the mountains. Art is a sunset behind storm clouds. Art is a cyclone over the Pacific. Even humans can create art. The Sistine Chapel! DaVinci’s Annunciation! Art is certainly not humans traipsing about dressed up as their version of angels pretending to shoot dinosaurs with eye lasers!”

  “This offends you?”

  “Yes, brother! They are turning our role in the universe into a joke!”

  Raphael licked his lips and paced a bit, wondering how to make his point clear. Finally, he cleared his throat and began. “I feel that sometimes humans don’t know how to ask the right questions. So they do something just to see what the reaction might be. In a way, the reaction can answer their question. Take this idea of Angels fighting dinosaurs for example. I feel it could be this human is trying to find his place in the world. By making a controversial film, it’ll spark multiple debates that will help him find his way. This human does not do it to offend, but to learn. For that, I cannot fault him.”

  “Does this concept not offend you as an Angel?”

  “Hmm,” mused Raphael. “I think I will need to see the final product before I am offended. As one once said, ‘you cannot give offense, only take it.’ I try not to judge these human actions. I try to help in any way I can.”

  Gabriel smiled, admiring his little brother’s words. “For one so young, you are quite wise.”

  “For the record, I think I might enjoy a movie about Angels fighting dinosaurs,” Raphael said with a smile.

  “You’re not serious. You are just trying to vex me.”

  “Not at all. In fact, I find it quite an honor to be portrayed as a wily and vicious dinosaur hunter.”

  “No,” Gabriel grumbled. “You’re trying to goad me.” He chuckled at his younger brother.

  Raphael flashed a brief smile. “Brother. I meant to ask you something.”

  Sensing the tone shift, Gabriel asked, “What is it, brother?”

  “Have you ever dealt with a Horseman before?”

  “I have not. I’ve had no dealings with any of the four. Only Ariel has.”

  Raphael nodded. “Did you notice his plane shifting? I think I may have heard him refer to it as ‘blinking.’”

  With a heavy sigh, Gabriel replied. “I did indeed. That may pose a problem in the future when he truly does master his gifts.”

  “It was back to back in the blink of an eye. Our recovery time is not nearly that quick. We can only ‘blink’ every couple of seconds, not instantaneously like the Horseman did.”

  Gabriel stroked his chin. “I just wonder what other gifts the horseman may command. The more you know about your enemy, the better.”r />
  “I don’t think he’s our—”

  Their attention snapped in the direction of the heavy wooden door.

  It was Raphael who spoke first. “She has awakened.”

  Wednesday, 8:01 am

  Sara pried her eyelids open, only to be met with a blurry suffusion of grey and black. The temperature was, well, perfect, and whatever she was lying on was remarkably soft. She blinked a couple of times, trying to clear her mind of cobwebs.

  As her field of vision cleared, she turned her head and found a thick, heavy oak end table next to her.

  Resting on that was a glass of water.

  Cold water.

  Too cold. Burning.

  Panic squeezed her throat.

  She gulped for air.

  A cold shiver ran down her arms and back. She shook, fear creeping throughout her body. Sitting up, she frantically took in her surroundings.

  The heavy brick walls gave off the impression that she was in some sort of ancient castle. The vaulted ceiling appeared perfectly smooth, as if it were crafted of the finest marble. Four portrait paintings hung on the wall, depicting four different figures. One of the figures was too familiar.

  It was Sebastian, but there were subtle differences. There was an air of confidence to his expression and he wore a thin, ferocious smile, giving the painting an intense, dangerous feel. Sara examined the others. One man and two women. All beautiful. She didn’t recognize any of them.

  There was a rap at the door. Her eyes darted to it.

  She bit her lip as her heartbeat quickened. Before she decided whether to answer or not, the door opened a crack and an attractive man peeked in.

  “Hello?” he said. “Is everything okay?”

  She stared back at him in silence, knowing who he was.

  He nodded once to himself before stepping into the room.

  No doubt about it, this was the one who had come to her rescue in the city, the one that had protected her from the mountain of zombie creatures. His hands carried a tray with a large, upside down stainless steel bowl. She understood that there was most likely food under there. Her stomach growled.