Dark Layers (Volume 4)

by Gray, A L

  "Anile, are you okay?"

  Oh dear God, he looks upset. It takes everything I have not to run up to him and tell him everything.

  "Yes, of course I am. I won't be out too late. See you soon."

  I walk off, not giving him the chance to make me feel worse than I already do. I snatch the keys off of the lamp table in the hall, next to the front door, and take a long steely breath before leaving. When I'm outside, the evening cool air attacks every part of my body. Jeez, now I wish I wore a full length coat. I make my way across the stony driveway, the stones grazing my heels. I unlock the car and when I pull the door open, I feel a piece of paper under the handle. I grasp it and pull it up to my eyes.

  Pepper Spray is above your drivers wheel, just encase Castor starts something

  Jeez, it's nice to know someone has pre-planned tonight.

  I PULL UP INTO the Firework Factory at Dartford, through a pair of old double gates. The gates are rusted to the core, and they are not locked - surprisingly - they are pushed wide open. I wonder if Mr. Darks insured they were open or if vandals have had their way with the place? I put my headlights on full beam because it's dark out, I cannot really see my way inside the grounds. The grass surrounding the factory is so overgrown and wild - it's been years since someone has been attentive to the acres of land. The firework factory building itself is huge, bigger than I assumed it would be, and it's a total mess. It perfectly resembles an old factory with dark orange breeze blocks beneath every window. The windows have old worn bars across them, probably because fireworks are extremely flammable and they needed the protection to insure no one could break in. There are also little wooden huts dotted around the factory grounds, they are battered and falling apart as we speak. Some of them are missing roofs, others have no doors, and the rest are just sprawled out on the grass where Mother Nature has broken them down. Next to the factory is a vast lake. It looks nice in the darkness, reflecting the blue moonlight so perfectly, but I would wedge a bet that it looks dirty in the daylight.

  I stop the car just outside the factory front doors and kill the engine. I step out of the car and can instantly smell the remains of the fireworks; it's like tangy gun powder mixed with the taste of metal. It's a nasty smell, and sits heavily on my tongue. I pull my coat around my body, it's chilly, the air nips at my face and forces me to shiver involuntarily. I shut the car door, and with my pepper spray in my jacket pocket, I make my way towards the entrance doors, my heels grazing against the ruined concrete floor.

  "Well, look at this." I hear a man say in a deep croaking voice.

  My heart instantly picks up - that wasn't Castor. I cast my eyes across the broken concrete floor and beyond the overgrown grass - I see nothing.

  "Who's there?" I say loud, but my voice is trembling.

  Suddenly, I'm forced against the old steel door to the factory, a strong arm across my throat. I grab the arm and try to pull myself free.

  "Ah!" I try to scream, but he's pressed so hard against my throat that only a low squeak comes out.

  "Hmmm, fresh pussy," the man mutters and he inhales deeply, "and you smell good."

  I squeeze my eyes closed and try to catch my breath. The guy smells like booze mixed with a stinky ditch. The scent of old beer is horrid, and the ditch smell tells me he may be homeless. I feel him almost on my face, his calculated breath on my skin. Suddenly he runs his hand over the top of my naked legs and this forces my eyes to spring open.

  "Get off me!" I scream. I try so hard to push him off of me but I can't. "Please let me go!"I beg.

  Where the hell is Castor? Maybe he isn't coming - the thought scares the hell out of me. I try to slowly reach into my pocket but the guy grabs my hand and forces it above my head. I pant hard and fast, and with my only free hand over his crushing arm that's against my throat, I'm at his mercy. Out of nowhere, I feel the guy being ripped off of me. I fall to the ground in a limp mess and grasp my throat while trying to breathe. I close my eyes and cover them with my arm. I hear the sound of punching.

  ‘Bang, bang, bang.'

  "Not so nice when you are faced with muscle to match your own, is it?" I hear.

  It's Castor, and although I should still be frightened of him, I'm not. I open my eyes and peer through my arm and see Castor dragging the body across the broken concrete floor. He pops open the boot to his black Mercedes, but before he does anything else, he narrows his eyes over at me. He leaves the guys limp body beside his car and makes his way over to me. He reaches me and kneels down in front of me, blue eyes intense, his face full of sympathy.

  "Anile, are you okay?" He whispers tenderly.

  I peer up at him from beneath my arm. I want to cry, I was so scared.

  "Where were you?" I say in almost a sob.

  He rests one hand over my naked knee. "I'm here now." He says.

  He grasps both my arms and pulls me to my feet. Once I'm standing beside him, he casts his eyes over my body, still holding me at arms length.

  "Are you hurt anywhere? Did he touch you?" He asks serious.

  "No." I say small.

  "Good. Now, take his legs, I'll get his arms." He says while walking back to his car.

  "Why?" I gasp, knowing exactly where he's going with this.

  He stops abruptly and turns to face me. I peer over his body, he's wearing a coat like his father's, long down to his knees and the material is as black as the night sky. The neck collar is pulled up, almost covering his neck.

  "Anile, he was going to rape you, or worse. He cannot be let back out onto the streets."

  "That's not your call to make." I say.

  "Do you want to be responsible for another girl like yourself being raped tonight?"

  I swallow hard. "No." I say in a whisper.

  "Good. Now, you can either help me or watch me struggle."

  "You are hardly an advocate for good, Castor. You tried to force yourself on me once." I snap.

  He makes his way back to me, and once he's toe to toe, he grabs both my arms. I jump at the shock of his grip, it's tight on my forearms. I start to tremble.

  "I would never rape you, you silly woman. I kissed you, that's all."

  I cannot say anything, I'm frozen with fear.

  "You need not fear me, Anile. You are safer with me than you would be with most."

  He releases me and makes his way back over to the body and I instantly feel the relief of his absence. I think hard on whether to force him to release that guy, but God only knows what he will do tonight. I ignore my angels fighting with demons, and with one foot in front of the other, scraping across the broken floor, I walk over to Castor.

  "Grab his legs and lift him as high as you can."

  I kneel down and grasp the guys' ankles, but he wakes and grabs my arm. Horror thrashes throughout my body, I'm robbed of breath and my quick thinking ability.

  "Ah!" I scream, falling back on my arse. "Castor!" I shout in a frenzy. I try to pull the guys arm off of me but his grip is tight.

  Castor quickly rips his hand free from my arm and punches him right in the face, again knocking him unconscious. I try to catch my breath with my head between my knees. Castor offers me a tender hand. He starts to rub my back.

  "Anile, it's okay." He says.

  I look up at him and my eyes well. For some strange reason, he feels different to me, no longer vicious - he feels like... he... maybe he cares for me. He leaves me for a moment, and on his own, he manages to put the body in the boot of his car.

  I wipe my runny nose with the sleeve of my leather jacket. "You're not going to kill him, are you?" I ask worried.

  "Anile, don't ask questions you don't want the real answer to. I don't want you thinking of such things."

  I try to get to my feet but I'm so blistered with shock that my legs feel like jelly-O. I fall back to the ground. Thankfully, Castor's tender hands are on my waist quickly, pulling me on my feet and into his chest. He steals his hands around my body and holds me tightly. I don't make any effort to touch
him, I just stay very still in his arms. Unknowingly, I inhale. He smells like cigarettes, mixed with a musky, sweet smell of whisky. I worry, knowing he's been drinking, people tend to become their inner selves when they have had a drink. I need to find a way to break the ice between us, I need him to open up to me - and subconsciously, I desire to know why he has tormented Elijah and myself. I think I'll go with that to break the ice. As I mentally recount his torment - him using my father's illness to his advantage, him turning Sophie against me - it strangely brings tears to my eyes, and although I am desperate not to cry, I cannot help myself.

  "Anile, why are you crying? It's okay, the guy, he cannot hurt you." He says sympathetically.

  "Castor, why did you do all them things to me?" I sob and I peer up at him. His eyes are saddened, broken. His eyebrows are deeply knitted - like Elijah's when he's sad.

  "Anile," he lowers his head in shame, "I'm sorry. I never, ever wanted to hurt you. I care about you."

  "Then why? Tell me why, please?" I beg, unknowingly clutching at his coat collar. "You owe me an explanation. If you care about me as you say you do, you will tell me why."

  He releases me and walks over to his car. "Do you want to get in?" He says while opening his driver door.

  I quickly think about the cameras. "No." I say simple.

  He sighs long and steely. "Anile, I told you, you need not fear me, I will never hurt you."

  I believe him, deep down I do, but I need to get his confession on camera to save Elijah. I say nothing.

  "Fine." He sniggers.

  He leans in his car and collects a large bottle of whisky. He backs out and slams the door shut.

  "Drink?" He offers me the bottle and I take it without a second thought - this conversation requires lots of this.

  I take a large gulp and gasp at how hot it is - it's hotter than the brandy Elijah has, but it warms my cold tummy.

  "You know, ever since I laid eyes on you, I have always been fond of you." He unexpectedly says.

  I lean back against my car. "You could have fooled me." I say sarcastically.

  "I know, but my intentions were not only my own."

  I frown. "What do you mean?"

  "I know Elijah has told you everything, I know you know about... us." He wipes his nose. "He was not allowed to have a relationship outside of wedlock, but with you, he carried on as if he never cared for our rules. I was contracted to stop you both from happening."

  "So, all the torment, it's not been out of spite, it's been out of an order?" I ask confused.

  "No, not completely." He confesses. "A lot of my anger is towards Elijah, and I have good reason. But the torment towards you was the order I had from my leader. I would never have intentionally hurt you Anile."

  His confession makes me feel... somewhat better about him. He takes position beside me, leaning against my car. I pass him the whisky bottle and he necks a load.

  "Castor, you're not making much sense. Why do you hate Elijah?" I say while peering at him from the side.

  "Anile, Elijah and I, we have had a strange life - but I'm sure you know this. Elijah..." he pauses for a moment, "he killed my Mother, our Mother. My hate for him is justified, and it also made fulfilling my order easier."

  I lower my gaze. That makes sense, it all now makes sense. Mr. Darks was born into the Freemasonry, so out of force, he has had rules to comply with. His sons, Elijah and Castor, also had to follow suit. Elijah has been forced to believe he killed his Mother to complete his last sacrifice, that's why he's dark inside - I mean, who wouldn't be fucked up if they truly believed that they killed their Mother? And Castor, a poor little boy lost. He hates Elijah because he thinks he killed their Mother, and in my opinion, that is justified.

  He takes a few steady steps in front of me and stares down at me. "You don't seem surprised?" He says.

  "Elijah told me." I lie.

  He looks surprised. "He's lucky to have someone that will stand by him no matter what."

  I narrow my eyes at him. "Lucky? He wanted me to leave him. He thinks life with him isn't safe for me."

  "He's right, Anile."

  "I don't care, I will never leave him."

  He leans a little closer. "That's why he's in love with you."

  I blush at his observation.

  "You know, you don't seem so scary anymore." I say.

  "Good, I don't want to scare you. I'd love nothing more than to be your brother, to have my own brother back."

  I immediately take his hand and hold it tight. "Castor, do you trust me?"

  He frowns and looks confused. "Yes." He breathes.

  "Trust me when I tell you this, Elijah didn't kill your Mother."

  He gasps loudly. "How do you know that?"

  "I can't tell you," I say shamefully, "I can only say that I know it wasn't him."

  "Then who did?" He growls. He breaks free from my grip.

  "Calm down." I urge.

  "Who, Anile."

  "I cannot tell you. Please, don't ask, just trust me."

  He steps back and eyes me for a moment, and I think hard, wondering why he's a lap dog for his father and his cult. I want to know why he follows suit - Elijah doesn't anymore, and Castor shouldn't have to if he truly doesn't want to.

  "Castor, why do you run that media company? For the Freemasons, the Illuminati? You don't seem like a bad person."

  "You cannot ask me these questions." He turns his back on me.

  "Castor, if you want to be a part of our family, if you want your brother and I in your life, we have to trust one another. Tell me why?" I force.

  "Because I have no choice. You know this." He shouts in pain. "If I disobey my leader, I will be executed."

  "What? Elijah has gotten away with murder, surely they would pardon you too?"

  He turns and regards me with intense eyes, one hand in his coat pocket, the other is grazing his chin in question.

  "For the first time in my life, I am choosing to trust, Anile. Don't make me regret my decision."

  I swallow hard. "I won't, I promise."

  He takes a long steely breath. "You mentioned the Illuminati."

  "Yes?"

  "You know there isn't any proof that they actually exist?"

  "That is a fools prognosis, and you damn well know it." I snap.

  "There isn't any proof, Anile, trust me."

  "Then why is everyone - mostly celebrities - flashing the all seeing eye, and using their hands to flash the pyramids?"

  He starts to slowly pace in front of me.

  "Imagine there is a bridge that separates the world in two halves," he casts his hand out in front of him, "on one side of the bridge there is... good food, nice homes, tons of money, but anarchy, and crime and illness - too many people to grasp control, hence civil war against the government that's rising quickly. The other side of the bridge there could be a smaller population, an easier way to take control because there would not be enough people to stop the government, and the only way to make people cross the bridge is to make them believe it's a better place." He sighs heavily. "You have to understand Anile, it's not easy to just tell someone something and make them believe it, you have to feed it into their subconscious, thus, our media company. This is the best way to persuade people in mass amounts, every household has at least one television."

  "It doesn't mean what they are doing is right."

  "It also doesn't mean it's wrong. Yes the Freemasons follow... acquired rules that are not for the faint hearted - the devil if you wish - but to them, God has done no good. This is the only path left for them."

  "Control in mass amounts is not a good thing."

  "But, if there was no control, you would be in a world where you could be raped daily and have nothing done about it. Your children, they could be taken away from you with no consequences, only your suffering. Would you prefer a world like that?"

  I trail my mind for an answer. I now understand a hell of a lot more than I did on the ride over here. The way these
people think, it's... it's beyond anything anyone else would consider.

  "So why does it seem like nothing but darkness? Why have they made you commit the worst human acts if they are good?"

  He half smiles. "You mean, Jezebel, don't you?"

  I frown - wow, that was way off key, but a good point and exactly what I meant, alongside the cult forcing people to possess themselves.

  I mentally crash. "What do you mean?" I ask, it's all I have.

  "Don't be coy, Anile, I know you have worked out that I killed her."

  "Why would you confess that to me?"

  He finally stops his pacing and just stares at me. "Because I trust you."

  His trust for me slowly breaks me apart inside. I feel evil, I feel so evil because I've used his trust to my advantage. Elijah is all about trust, and we are only together because I earned his trust. I lower my head in shame, I wish I could take all this back, I cannot send him to jail, not now. He's just a poor man who has grown up being brainwashed, he knows no different.

  "Castor-" I start to say but he cuts me off with a signal of his hand.

  "Do you want to know more about our cult? I will explain about Jezebel later."

  I nod quickly and rack my brain to try and stop him confessing more about Jezebel, at least now I have some time to come up with something.

  "My mother supposedly descends from the bloodline of Jesus. She is of great value to the Freemasons. My father married her out of an obligation, it wasn't a coincidence that he met her - and he was only given the chance to rank up because his family bloodline has always been cherished by the Freemasons."

  "You actually believe that?" I ask in shock.

  He shrugs his shoulders. "God knows, I don't really pay attention to the fine details." He sighs heavily. "The story of the Freemasons is that they acknowledge God as the architect of the planet, hence the compass symbol we use. We are not Christians, we are not really of any religion. We follow the Zodiac system, alongside a few other things - dark things. At this present time, we are in the Zodiac time of the Gemini twins."