Dark Molly Book One Read online

  Prologue-

  I was taken and things were done to me. Bad things. It is that simple, it is that complicated. The things that were done involved sex, pain, fear, love, death and dark magic, for your sake, I hope that you aren’t capable of imagining them. The men and women who did these things to me are long dead now, but that is of little comfort to me as the legacy they leave behind them still haunts me in ways that once again, you are better off not being able to imagine.

  When I started this narrative, someone far wiser and kinder than myself, told me to start at the beginning, but I am not sure that all of what happened is breakable into beginnings, middles and ends. It is just not that fucking straight forward I am afraid. Still, it is a story and I suppose that the story must begin someplace and no matter how many times I run it through my mind the same three words keep coming back to me.

  I was taken.

  It is, I suppose, as good a beginning as any.

  So here I am offering up my story to any that would pause long enough to hear it, you can believe it or don’t, I find that I really couldn’t care less. I am sitting on a lumpy bed in a cheap motel wishing I was elsewhere, while I am recording this to fulfill a promise to someone who once trusted me.

  To someone who once loved me.

  Predictably enough for those familiar with the way that the world works boys and girls…

  It worked out badly for the poor bastard.

  Still, a promise is a promise and all that shit. So here I am clinging to the shreds of my self-control and trying to get as much as I can down before the other bitch that lives in my head rears her ugly head and assumes control.

  Yeah, I hate it when that happens.

  Hell, since we are telling a story let us begin in the classic fashion, let us go all old school about it. We shall follow in the bloody footsteps of the Brothers Grimm and do a proper job of it. There really is only one way to begin such a bloody fantastic tale after all.

  Once upon a time….

  CHAPTER ONE

  1914-Seattle Andrea

  I walked into the coven masters office not knowing what to expect. Three years of training had passed since I applied to join the ranks of The White Adepts, The Orders magical arm meant to supplement the brute force of the Guns that they employed to help protect humans from the vampire menace. The training had been, difficult for me. I have a lot of natural talent at magic but the formal training has been something of a hit and miss venture.

  A full Council of nine Master Adepts stood before me as I sat down in the supplicants chair facing them. All of their faces were blank and unreadable. They wore the white robes of full Adepts that I aspired to wear someday. A subtle incense burned in the background and I could feel the subtle weight of magic in the air.

  “Step forward, Andrea Doyle and be weighed.” An older black woman intoned formally.

  I step forward onto the rune etched into the floor facing them and bowed low.

  She stared down at me for a long moment, her stern face gradually softening and I could read the answer in her kind eyes before she spoke.

  “Andrea Doyle, it is with profound regret that I tell you this but as things stand we cannot approve your request to be admitted as a coven member.” Her tone held notes of sorrow and hints of steel.

  “May this supplicant know the reason why?” I ask softly keeping the fact that my world was crumbling around me out of my voice.

  “This council has read your aura and deep within it we have found, for lack of a better term, a discordance. It is nothing that any of us have seen before and until we understand what it is, we cannot put the knowledge and power that becoming a coven member would grant into your hands.” A middle aged balding member of the council answered, his steel gray eyes making contact with my own.

  I closed my eyes and allowed my other senses to speak to me. His words held the ring of truth, which didn’t take any of the sting of them away, but helped with the effort to control my emotions.

  “You have a choice Andrea Doyle, you can return to the house of supplicants and begin your training anew while we delve deeper into this, situation. You will remain there until we determine what this discordance is and whether it represents any sort of danger.” The balding man spoke again in an empty tone.

  “Or you may choose to leave the house of supplicants and abandon your bid to join us. Your memories of your time with us will be erased and you will be free to go forth and make whatever life for yourself you can.” The black woman spoke again and there was no hint of which choice would make them happier in her voice.

  A sly voice that shouldn’t be there in some dark corner of my mind whispered to tell them all to go fuck themselves. Just the barest whisper but I felt the council react to it as if I had screamed it out loud.

  The sly voice began to hum a tune in the furthermost corner of my mind I had long ago banished it to.

  Just me and my shadow…

  I shook my head slightly to clear my thoughts and resolved that I wouldn’t cry in front of them.

  “Take a day or two child, think it over and meditate on where your path should take you. Give the house mother your answer when you are ready.” The black woman said and the kindness in her voice felt like salt in my wounds.

  I nodded to her and bowed low before all of them, and then turned and took my leave of the room.

  Never to return.

  Chapter Two

  Two Guns escort me from the council chambers and after blindfolding me, lead me through a series of underground tunnels up to street level. They leave me right in front of the newly completed Smith Tower, the tallest building east of the Mississippi. The Guns give me a curt nod and walk away from me briskly, blending into the foot traffic and disappearing.

  My head is spinning, the world of the Adepts has been the sum of my life this last few years and I have no idea what might replace that world.

  No time to dwell on that however, because my magic is telling me that I have bigger, or at least more immediate problems.

  Three Renfields are following me as I walk down First Avenue. They are keeping their distance but from my training I know them for what they are. The White Adepts and The Order have long worked hand in hand against the threat of the undead. So I have long known what Renfields are.

  Blood slaves to a master vampire.

  What they want from me, I have no idea but I doubt if it is anything good. It is broad daylight so I don’t think that they will try anything on a crowded street, but I have no wish to lead them back to my supplicant house.

  I must shake them somehow, I gather my power to me and fashion a cloaking spell. I smile to myself as I feel it settle over me, despite the councils misgivings I am a talented adept.

  More than talented enough to lose these poor lost souls anyway.

  But not talented enough to sense the human servant until it is too late and the chloroform soaked rag is over my mouth and nose.

  All fades to darkness.

  I awaken to the smell of opium smoke, skid row has a number of dens for this vice and I suspect that I am in one of them now. The chloroform has left a terrible taste in my mouth and a headache throbbing behind my blindfolded eyes. Just behind the smell of the opium I can just barely detect the lingering stench of dark magic. The Dark Adepts control most of the opium market in Seattle as well as most of the brothels.

  They blindfolded me but weren’t smart enough to gag me so I mutter a quick spell and the blindfold falls away from my eyes.

  I am lying on a dirty couch in a small room with no windows, the only light comes from a single naked bulb hanging down from the ceiling in the middle of the room. When I try to stand up my head swims and I fall back onto the couch again. Forcing myself to stand I try
again and lurch over to a sink on the far wall and splash water on my face and rinse my mouth out. I drink greedily from the tap until I feel a little stronger and less dizzy.

  The door, when I try it is locked of course.

  Not just locked but spelled shut. The knob feels slick and unclean when I touch it and a sharp jolt of pain spikes up my arm forcing me to let it go.

  I throw my own magic at it, but whoever cast the locking spell is stronger than I am and my own power just slides off it.

  Ok, so time to try something different. I calm my thoughts and use my training to work my way through the problem logically as I have been taught to.

  The lock may be spelled but I am guessing that the door is just plain old wood.

  Gathering my power to me I fling a shattering spell at the door.

  My teachers often tell me that I tend to overdo the power I put into my spells.

  The door blasts apart with a flash of blinding white light and is reduced to small splinters of smoldering wood. A lot of those shards of wood are buried in the bloody face and chest of the very dead guard, who had been sitting in a chair just outside the door.

  I fight a wave of nausea, I have never had to kill anyone before. I say a quick prayer to the Goddess to both forgive me this action and forgive him for the path that brought him to this untimely end.

  A sly voice whispers in that dark corner of my mind that he deserved what he got.

  I have come to hate that voice.

  No time for such things now, I have to get out of here. The human servant who grabbed me must be around here somewhere, as well as his Renfield friends and whatever they have in mind for me can’t be good. I need to escape and report all of this back to my house mother who in turn will inform The Order.

  I make it all of three steps before a woman in a red dress blocks my path.

  Chapter Three

  She is beautiful but that beauty can’t disguise the evil that lurks behind it. Auburn hair and porcelain skin and a body that uses it curves to spell out sin. Her eyes burn into mine like twin emeralds and I can feel her trying to work her way into my mind to control me.

  Dark Adept.

  I react instinctively and slap her across the face as hard as I can. She reels away from me hissing angrily and I try to rush past her.

  Leaping onto my back she rides me down to the rough floor and pins me to it.

  “Such a naughty little White Adept! Tsk tsk, Georgie over there was a friend of mine and you will pay for his death you little bitch.” She whispered into my ear as she grinds my face into the floor.

  Her voice feels like a stain on my soul.

  Muttering a levitation spell I lift us both straight up to smash her into the ceiling. She screams and we both fall hard back to the floor, lying there stunned for a few seconds as broken plaster rains down on us.

  And then the fight gets dirty.

  White Adepts follow a path of peace, but we live in the real world, so we are trained from day one to have the skills to defend ourselves from those who do not follow that same path.

  I have been told by my teachers that I enjoy the training more than I probably should.

  Her left hand curls and she is ready to fling a curse at me so I snap out a kick and break her wrist.

  Her howl of pain is one of the worst things that I have ever heard.

  She is wicked fast and viscous but oddly not very well trained. I suppose that she is used to relying on her dark magic to subdue people.

  I have been taught to use all of the gifts that I have been given, magical and physical.

  I clap my hands sharply on either side of her head over her pretty little ears and shatter both eardrums instantaneously.

  That sends her down screaming, screams she now can’t even hear.

  My kick to the side of her head takes her out and the screaming stops.

  A man begins a slow round of applause from behind me and I whirl to confront the new threat.

  “Well done, little Adept. Well done indeed. My name is Hector Torres and I am afraid that I have to insist that you cease all of this nonsense and go back and sit on the couch.” The voice is, filthy. Mild sounding with tones of depravity that leaves me feeling stained for hearing it.

  He doesn’t look like much, a tall skinny balding man of about thirty years in a poorly fitting suit. His expression is bland and he is leaning casually against the wall with his thin arms crossed over his chest looking like he is waiting for a slightly overdue trolley car.

  “Please little Adept, I know I don’t look all that formidable but trust me you don’t want this coming down to me forcing you.” There are darker tones in his voice now, suggesting violence and pain.

  “I don’t think so.” I tell him as I gather defensive magic to me and get ready to unleash it.

  He gives me a sick smile that makes me want to turn and vomit into a corner.

  “Truth be told, little Adept, I was really hoping you would say that.”

  He moves slowly off of the wall to stand grinning before me, I can feel dark magic begin to build all around him.

  Such creatures are very rare, he is both human servant to a master vampire and a Dark Adept.

  I know that I am in real trouble now.

  Before he can step towards me I fling another shattering spell at the floor beneath his feet. He looks startled as he drops through the sudden hole that it makes.

  I am weakened from all of the power I have used, magic is not unlimited and I have perhaps over extended myself. I sink to the floor and close my eyes to rest and regroup for a moment.

  And then he rises back up and grinning at me through the hole I blasted in the floor.

  “Oh, my little friend. You should have told me that you liked it rough.”

  His curse hits me like an electrified fist and I am reduced to a screaming twitching puddle on the floor. The agony makes it impossible to gather any power or summon any spell. I am defenseless before it.

  He stands above leering down with the same sick smile and spits in my face.

  “I like it rough as well my little failed Adept.”

  And then he punches me so hard in the face that the world basically ends.

  Boom boom out go the lights.

  Chapter Four

  When I come to I am in a different room my wrists tied securely to the wrought iron headboard of the bed I am lying on.

  A female Asian vampire is lying on top of me and licking the blood off of my face.

  They were smart enough to gag me this time so my scream of revulsion is a muffled one.

  She rolls off of me and is standing over me in one blur of motion. Staring down at me with a slight smile on her delicate face, she licks her lips slowly.

  “You are a yummy little treat, I can taste the magic in your blood.”

  My face is throbbing, I have never been hit that hard before, which I suppose is the difference between sparring and a real fight.

  “Behave.” Hector tells her as he walks into the room.

  She hisses at him and flashes her fangs but she obeys and leaves the room. Apparently she is not the vampire that he serves.

  He stands over me leering down at me, I can feel the evil coming off of him in waves and his nearness makes me want to vomit.

  “My master is eager to meet you little Adept. He has high hopes for your potential, as do we all.” He waves a hand over my face and the pain stops, I can feel the trickle of dark magic as it heals the damage done by his punch.

  “There now, that’s better isn’t it? The rest of my coven will be here soon and then the real fun will start little Adept. I fear you are in for something of a long night.” His tone is mocking and I can hear sadistic eagerness in it.

  I am suddenly very afraid.

  He is feeding off of my fear, I can feel him doing it and it is one of the worst sensations I have ever felt. Falling back on my training, I push the fear into a box and shove it away into a corner of my mind. The connection between us sputters and d
ies out.

  Snack time is over asshole.

  “You are a feisty little thing, ok tough girl we will see how far all that spunk can take you once things start to get interesting.” He tells me as he slowly runs a finger down the side of my face.

  I steel myself not to flinch and he chuckles to himself as he turns to leave.

  “When I return, it will be with my full coven sweetheart and then we will get this party started.”

  I struggle against my restraints but whoever tied the knots knows what they are doing. My only hope is that the housemother has spread the word of my disappearance and that Guns are out looking for me.

  The sly dark voice in my mind whispers that the housemother will likely assume that I have run away after the Council refused to grant me admittance to the next stage of my training.

  The voice is probably right.

  I say a prayer to the forces of Light that it is wrong.

  My face still tingles from the Dark Adept’s healing spell and the side of my face where he touched feels soiled by that touch. The fear I have boxed away threatens to spill forth but I calm myself by slipping into a meditative state.

  Despite the councils misgivings about me all I have ever wanted to do was, serve the forces of Light and help protect this world from the forces of Darkness. I have always known that serving would have its risks and I have accepted those risks. If I perish tonight, well I will not be the first in our ranks to give their life to the cause. I will cling to my courage and try to survive whatever they have in mind for me.

  I close my eyes and wait to find out what that might be.

  Interlude: Present day

  Brave words.

  I sit composing this in my sad and dirty little motel room and the memories threaten to tip the scales enough so that the other who dwells within me escapes and assumes control.

  That battle is a constant one and I find myself losing more and more as time goes on. I can feel my grip on things slowly eroding, a beach worn away by the relentless tide a grain of sand at a time. She is much stronger than me and it becomes harder to wrest control back from her each time I lose it.