Page 42 of Morning's Light

CHAPTER 10

Her head spun, weightless. Her hands shook and her body was inexplicably heavy.

Faint glimpses of the city assaulted her. Pulsating, throbbing lights. Frozen concrete. She didn’t remember driving downtown.

Someone else had taken over.

Her body was not her own, controlled by outside forces and responding jerkily. Aisanna took a backseat and kept to the corners of her mind when The One Who Walks in Darkness grasped the reins. It was there, looking out through her eyes and moving her limbs. She was vaguely aware of laughter—her own, yet not—echoing in her sister’s car as they drove through the streets.

Wheels skidded across both lines and forced others out of the way. Aisanna didn’t know where they stopped or how she got out of the car.

Much, much later she would recall a light pole, the car grazing against metal, losing paint. She would remember the club and the press of bodies against her. The man at the corner vying for her attention and her fist snapping out to collide with his eye. The rest of the crowd clawing their faces, clutching their throats after she conjured bush after bush of oleander and set them on fire. Took delight in the screams. Relished the poisonous gases rising into the air when she made her exit.

Inside she sobbed, unable to stop the brutal takeover. Her insubstantial self pounded at the walls of her own mind. Trapped in a prison.

Calm yourself, child. Consider this a test. At dawn, you will be returned. And I will be getting stronger. Strong enough to take you over the moment the veil shatters.

**

In the morning, she woke to a sky lightened by the faint sheen of cumulus clouds. Cars honked and people fought for parking, drawn out from their homes despite the previous week of bad weather.

Aisanna struggled to move on numb feet. The instant she became aware of the pain, pins and needles began to prick her skin. She tried to stand and instead slid down, down, with her back hideously cramped. Her muscles had no strength in them. She lay in a mixture of agony and confusion, slowly stretching out her legs.

The surface beneath her was soft and pliant. Boxes gave way beneath her palms and her fingers sank into a pile of muck perilously close in texture to rotten fruit.

Aisanna swallowed a shriek. Garbage, nothing but garbage.

Her body sank deep into a mound of trash inside a dumpster in an alley. Discarded papers and food scraps clung to her like barnacles. She raised a hand to her hair and scraped aside a filter with used coffee grinds.

“Are you kidding me?”

The sound of her voice shocked her and had her sinking lower. She swallowed over a lump and felt the soreness in her throat. She’d been screaming, howling at the top of her lungs until her voice went hoarse. Why couldn’t she remember anything?

Bubbles of pain released in her knees and elbows, finally unbending after too long in stasis. Tears of relief burned in her eyes. She was awake. She was alive. It was over.

For now.

It took her several minutes to extract herself from the hot and smelly confines of the dumpster. She used her magic to help her and felt a little like Spiderman as vines attached and drooped from an overhanging fire escape. Wrapping them around her wrists, Aisanna hoisted herself over the edge of the bin, her bare feet plopping to the ground and peels of long-eaten fruit falling in a ring around her.

She glanced down at her arm and quickly away from the lines of script; the scabs had peeled off, showing shiny pink skin underneath.

The image of a man flashed through her mind, accompanied by a blinding light and the sting of a headache. Real or a dream, she was unsure. It may have been one of her visions, although the man looked nothing like Vane. Who the hell was he, then?

Her fist curled. Aisanna took great care to unroll her fingers one by one as she stared at the appendage. Flecks of glitter adorned her skin, as well as the telltale freckles of dried blood. Hers?

She needed to get home, and fast. Already the chilly air infiltrated her skin and turned her blood to ice. How had she managed to survive the night without a coat?

On bare feet she tiptoed to the head of the alley, and she shielded her eyes from the blinding glare of the winter sun. Around her people went on about their business, the street lined with families, couples, and children, laden with shopping bags. Only a few spared her a glance and wrinkled their noses at the sight and scent of her. Some shot her a look, its meaning clear.

Why are you here ruining our day?

Aisanna held her head high and marched down the sidewalk, each step bringing physical pain to a new height. Never mind the embarrassment or the emotional turmoil.

It took her a little longer to determine her whereabouts: the Gold Coast, minutes from Israel’s house. Coincidence? She didn’t think so. Though what it meant she wasn’t sure.

He would not appreciate her showing up at his doorstep. Not in the least. Considering the time and day, he might not even be home. Or if he was home, probably sleeping off a night of debauchery. Aisanna decided to take the chance and risk his wrath. It sure beat walking home covered in trash.

She ignored the stares and harsh words whispered under strangers’ breath as she continued toward Israel’s apartment. The man at the front door, with more muscles in his arms than Aisanna had in her entire body, took her in with one look and shook his head, refusing to let her in.

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