10 July, 2011

Dark - A Short Story


We were in Ireland once. Back when I had my life and my greatest fear was having my ’94 jalopy break down on the way to my crappy job. I saw her at the school when I was 13, and from then on I was taken. I went through the rest of my life wishing I knew her better, wishing I had said more than hello. Now that my life was taken from me, I only had memories. That’s when I decided to follow her.



I had been following Tael for months – years – and she had no idea what I was. Her hair spilled over her shirt like a silky blonde waterfall, cascading into loose curls that ended in the middle of her back. Her green eyes sparkled and looked like jewels in the sunlight; a very genuine sheen covered them and reminded me of what I once had. They looked like an Irish meadow, and her laughter was a trickling stream. Whenever she caught a glimpse of my shadow she let out a cry, I was used to it. But I’d slink away and let her think it was a tree casting a shadow so not to startle her. I loved her, I always did. Sometimes I got to close, she would see a figure of a man in her room, or her car mirror and she would scream. I disappeared fast enough not to be noticed, and I always felt bad, but I had to. I was obsessed with her.



------
“Sir, the Ruin is here. You were right; Aveil is on a warpath about your father’s marriage plans.” The guard looked on edge as he stood by the door to my office. I waved him off and sighed as I sat down by my desk. Aveil was the head of the Ruin, a party put together by ancients who are a mix of Infrits, Demons, and other under-worldly pleasantries. Aveil was only interested in further garnering her position, and cared less about how she did so, and much rather screw everyone else over literally and figuratively – she was a succubus after all. She had been trying for years to join the Ruin and my father’s Legion together claiming it was some kind of peace treaty or security measure. In reality, Aveil wanted to marry my father so she could become second in command in the Legion, having power from the Ruin making her an almost unstoppable force to be reckoned with.



However everyone knew my father was aware of her ulterior motives, and was not going to allow the imbalance of power, after all, the Ruin was a dying system, and with the Legion as the one true ruling power, he had nothing to fear. I didn’t think it was so much my dad picking a new bride that bothered her so much, but the type of bride he was picking that had everyone in the Ruin in hysterics.



I grew up in Ireland with my parents. My mum worked as a teacher in a small Protestant school, while my dad worked for the government in a very Catholic neighbourhood. I lived in Ireland until I was a teenager, and had a very normal life, aside from the constant Catholic vs. Protestant bombs and riots. This was nothing new here, due to the nature of my dad’s job, he was always stations in highly Catholic areas, while my mum worked for the Protestant school system. As such, there always bomb threats, or small explosions started by one group against another. My father sat us down one night just before my 16th birthday and told mum and I he was going to move us to Canada next week, after someone lit my mum’s school fence on fire.



I was 16 when I died. I don’t remember that much, aside from sitting inside our small car on the way to the airport. I didn’t have a lot of time to grab my things; we had to leave a lot behind. My dad rushed home and told us to pack what we could into a suitcase, and that we had to leave. The Government was tipped off there may be a violent riot in the rural neighbourhoods of Northern Ireland by an extremist group, and when my father heard that he knew that we were leaving. We hastily shoved what we could into bags and headed for the airport. We boarded a small plane leaving Northern Ireland for Ottawa Canada and sat nervously awaiting take off. When the plane exploded I didn’t feel anything, it didn’t hurt. I found myself standing beside my dad in a small room.

He was sitting on a chair, sobbing uncontrollably, and I looked around for my mum.

“Dad,” I softly said, “where’s mum?” When my father looked up, eyes swollen from crying, and red from lack of sleep I knew he had been here longer than me. “How long have we been here Dad?”



Over the next few hours my life changed, well, my next life. My father explained to me that our plane was planted with a bomb, targeting the Protestant airport, and we had died instantly. My mother had died and seemingly went on to her afterlife in heaven and was at peace - I was told I would not have that luxury. My father was not from this world; He was the son of the King of the Legion, and had come to our side multiple times as he grew up against his father’s wishes. He eventually found my mother and decided to stay on our side to raise me while my grandfather ran the Legion. When I was a child my father got a job at the government and was always gone long days and went on business trips often. It was not until in that room I learned that my grandfather had died and the Legion appointed my father to King. He was not working at the government, he did not have a job, but he was running the underworld and returning to our side when he could. My dad was what you would call Hades, but it was very different then the folklore you’re used to.



The Legion is the group that runs the underworld – Hell – and is in charge of the souls and creatures that dwell in it. The Ruin is comprised of ancient hell-beasts that order the underworld and make sure everything is running according to the code; they are essentially pencil pushers. Because the Demon gene is located in males, I was not sent to heaven because apparently I will be next in line to run things, which is why my mother was not with us. After that initial shock, it took me years to recover, and find my place among the Legion, trying to learn and make my own so one day I would be able to take it from my father when his time was over.



-----

So here I sit, years after that day had came and went, sitting in my own office worrying about the Ruin and their obsession with overthrowing the underworld. I'm 26 now, and have to endure my father’s marriage to someone who wasn’t my mother; and as anyone in that situation will tell you it is more than difficult. I heard a series of voices getting louder down the hall, and I braced myself.

“Dark,” Aveil pushed herself into the room past my guards clambering at her to stay out, “Since when do I need an appointment to come, what exactly are you hiding?” She pushed the door shut with an effortless push of her finger and it locked without her touching it, and leaned over my desk in a devious grin.

“Aveil you can’t use your Glory in here. There are rules, you know this. No Glory, no abilities, no powers. We can’t run this place unless you of all people respect the rules.” I turned my chair half way and played with some papers. I just wanted her to leave. The last time she was in here there was some… inappropriate behaviour on both our parts, and that wasn’t happening again.

She leaned over the desk again, showcasing her ample cleavage and soft supple skin, her breasts were tied in with a dark purple corset, and her long hair was as dark as the night sky that framed her purple eyes. Aveil was beautiful, in a terrifying way. As a succubus she used her wiles to get what she wanted from men, all men, and always tried for me. I’ll admit the situation was awkward: my father marrying a Reaper (a second class demon to most), Aveil being attracted to me, while trying to marry my father who wasn’t interested, etc. It’s like Jerry Springer for the underworld.

My heart started to hammer wildly, flashes of last time flew into my brain. Aveil smiled devilishly, feeding off of the smell of lust in the air. She walked slowly around my desk to my chair and stood in front of me. Her long legs hid muscle under white flesh, she was wearing a small pair of shorts that didn’t leave anything to the imagination, and her bodice corset displayed her small waist and wide hips. I tried to tear my eyes away but I couldn’t; at 26 years old I had an almost nonexistent dating life, and my libido was overflowing. She bent over and put her hands on my thighs and he head by my ear.

“Tell me to stop,” she teased, flicking he tongue along my neck. Beads of sweat formed on my brow as I fought violently against the urges I felt. I sat rigid in my chair, afraid to move.

“Stop,” I said meekly, in a false bravado believable by nobody, “you have to go.” Her hand slid farther up my thigh to my waist and lingered there. My hands shot out and braced her shoulders an arm’s length away, the smell of perfume and heat filled the air as my hands shook. I cleared my throat. “Aveil, stop. You need to stop. Please leave.” She pulled back and stood up, looking at me questionably.

“That’s not like you Dark. I was just trying to be friendly, only ever trying to be friendly.” She smiled and her teeth gleamed. “I’ll go but I’ll be back.” I stood up and walked with her towards the door, trembling. Aveil reached for the doorknob and without even thinking I grabbed her waist with one hand and ripped her away from the door, and shoved her up against the wall of my office - my body holding hers and my head beside her ear. I saw her smile and heard her purr. “Mmm, I love when you’re rough with me.”

“FUCK,” I cursed aloud, infuriated my body had betrayed me. She tried to get out of my hold but I kept her pinned there, and she loved it. I stepped back and turned her around so that she was facing me, stepped back into her again as she felt me on her. I used one forearm to brace her throat and my other hand clasped her wrists together by her side. My breath was ragged and infrequent, raking my eyes down her body and having to rip them away to stare into her face. She smiled coyly, using her finger to rub the inside of my leg. I moved her hands away and leaned in, “Don’t ever come in here again.” She gasped, pretending to be hurt.

“Dark,” she growled, “I can come in here anytime I want.” She pulled easily out of my grasp and took my by the throat, walked two steps and threw me hard on my desk; papers scattering and pens dropping to the ground. I lay there dazed as I watched her slowly climb on top of me, one leg on either side of my hips, holding my hands above my head as she leaned in and playful bit my neck. I struggled, but she easily held me.

Aveil was strong, stronger than most demons, and could easily hold me down with little effort. “Dark, tell me you love me,” She cooed into my ear, running her tongue over it. My pulse was erratic and sweat teemed down my temple.

“Get off,” I fought back in vain, she held me with no force needed.

“Tell me you want me,” She leaned in again and ran her tongue from my collarbone to my chin, licking the sweat off of my face. My skin was on fire and the build-up was starting to hurt. “Just tell me, tell me and I’ll bring you to the most amazing pleasure you’ve ever felt in your life,” she breathed, and then nibbled my neck, gently kissed it with her full lips. She was only looking for control, only wanted control. I kept telling this to myself in my head. “She’s using you, she’s using your power and status to gain control over you.” My brain squealed at me and I purposely turned it off.

“Fuck, I want you,” It came out of my lips before I knew I had done it. That’s all she needed, she took my neck in one hand and bit down on it hard, blood spilling from the wounds made by her teeth. I shouted out as my body seized with pain and satisfaction together as electricity ran up my spine and I went limp, gasping for breath.  Aveil leaned back on her heels still on top of me, blood dripping from her mouth onto my chest and climbed off and casually wiped her lips with her thumb and forefinger.

“I’ll be back Dark,” I sat up on my desk and rubbed my neck looking at the ground, ashamed and too embarrassed to even look at her. She glanced at the dark spot on my jeans and smiled again. “Don’t pretend you didn’t love that.” She turned on her heels and left through the door, quiet murmurs could be heard in the hall as the guards head the commotion and were probably gossiping about it.

I climbed off the desk, grabbing a handful of tissues to hold on my neck and sat in my chair, alarmed at the sudden uncomfort of sitting in wet jeans. I groaned to myself and stared at the wall. What was I doing with my life?  An image popped into my head and I glanced at my desk drawer. I fumbled with my ring of keys and inserted the smallest key in the keyhole of my drawer, slowly pulling it open. I looked around before I reached in and pulled out a yellowed photo. Our class photo when I was 13. There I sat, eyes not focused on the camera ahead but to my lower left. There sat a beautiful girl with hair that fell in waves like a blonde waterfall and eyes are green as an Irish meadow. A smile crept across my face.

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