Page 20 of In the Dark

When he was finally finished with his search, with little to show for it again, the sky outside was dark and his stomach rumbled ominously.

“How did that happen? Damn.” He spoke to the window, staring out on the deepening twilight. Street lamps popped to life.

When was the last time he’d stopped for a snack? He hardly remembered. The outside world was nothing more than a shadow of silhouettes accompanied by the glossy glow of white lights. Well past dinnertime.

Perplexed, Morgan looked over to the antique grandfather clock, a gift from his brother, taking up one entire corner of the room. Already after eight on a Sunday, which meant no takeout for him. Well, damn.

Removing his glasses, Morgan rubbed his eyes to clear them. They felt dry, overused. It irked him that he still hadn’t found the information despite the power at his disposal. How much more useless could he be? If Karsia came to him tonight, she’d likely go ballistic at his lack of progress. Instead of the spine-tingling response a normal person would have at that thought, Morgan smiled, once again reminded of the cute little kitten fluffing up its hair and hissing at a dust ball. Only this kitten could literally kill him.

He went into the tiny galley kitchen that went hand in hand with his old Victorian house-turned-duplex and perused the contents of the fridge. Yes, he’d suspected this very problem. There was nothing edible outside of leftovers from the night before. Thank God for foresight, he thought, tossing the pasta in the microwave. He ate standing up until sauce dripped down the sides of the container and nothing remained within. His stomach still growled. He told it to shut up.

Scraping the fork along the lines of clinging sauce, Morgan made a mental note of the things he still needed to do. Ah, yes. He’d yet to journal about his encounter with Karsia. That would give him a pleasurable deviation from the rest of his chores. He shuddered at the reminder.

After telling himself not to lick the bowl, then doing it anyway, Morgan moved back to the den, resigned but determined. He sat in the middle of the mess and opened his notebook. With careful penmanship, he began the arduous task of writing by hand.

Karsia Cavaldi is a fascinating creature. An odd mix of heaven and hell wrapped up in a stunning package, even when I know I shouldn’t be focusing on the package. She’s too young for me by a good millennium. Now I feel old.

Her face is so familiar, almost as though I’ve seen it somewhere before. I feel like I know her, like I’ve seen her in the night behind closed lids when I shrug off my human form and walk in the realm of sleep. I can almost picture her there, waiting for me like a harbinger of destiny. Without even knowing her name, the moment she burst into my office I recognized her face in a startling flash. I would recognize it if I were blind.

So far my attempts to get her to open up have been unsuccessful. I know she is a witch. An earth elemental, by all accounts. But she’s been tainted by a darkness I’ve never seen before. She appears to be something entirely new.

Her magic, according to her, springs from a dark source she views as a burden rather than a gift. Physical changes that occurred during her demonstration include dilated pupils until most of her eyes turned black, well beyond the iris; silver balls of energy held close to her palms, and control of the air; manipulation of atomic particles to the extent that she can burn a localized portion of human skin on a whim.

For all her prowess, there was a definite lack of control there, and only the smallest bit of fear, remorse. I believe she is capable of great and terrible things, the evil magic stemming from an unnatural force.

She needs my help, and I desperately want to give it. I would give her anything.

“Jeez,” he muttered, unsure about what prompted him to pen such a thing. He hardly knew the woman.

There is something inside of her, something having to do with the Cyrillic script I translated. She’s seen the stone itself, the Telos Amyet. The legend of the tablet captivates her interest. In pursuit of information, she is single-minded. In all of my wanderings across the globe, I have never met another person who claimed to have set eyes on the stone. I have been privy to hundreds of stories, thousands, but none come close to the verisimilitude of Karsia’s account. Based on what she says, I think she believes she’s become a part of the elemental balance. That she is somehow tied up in the stone and destiny and a life-or-death outcome.

Whatever the issue, I have to find an answer. I have to cure her, so she and I can have a chance to explore the very potent attraction whenever we are in the same room together.

He felt the natural reaction to his words and remembered the quickening in his chest, the way his lungs hitched whenever they were alone. He remembered the photos from social media and the smile lighting up her entire face.

Morgan slapped a hand to his crotch and sighed.

It was going to be a long night.

**

Karsia did not go to sleep. She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and fighting with herself. The argument sounded staid and ridiculous. She spent the majority of her time feeling like a bipolar jumble and fighting against her new nature.

How long could she hold out before giving in to temptation? The negativity roaring inside her with the force of a wildfire ready to engulf?

Slapping her hands at her sides, she pushed away from the bed and moved to the window to stare down at the street. Sometime during the day, the skies had opened up to unload their chilly burden. A fresh blanket of white snow covered the ground and anything unfortunate enough to be caught outside. Trees stood still with the weight, the air quiet.

She’d spent most of her time recently within the confines of various hotel rooms, flipping through the five channel options on the television and feeling like a prisoner in her own skin. Threads broke and recoiled on the carpet as she paced. The clock ticked on steadily, with minutes rolling into hours, hours into days. The sun completed many arcs across the sky, and still she was no closer to answers.

Morgan needed time to work, she told herself. Which meant she should leave him alone.

Unfortunately, she was terrible at waiting—and the equinox loomed. The time came where she could not stay in this room any longer for fear of hurting herself. Urges surged to life and her fingers, of their own accord, dug deep grooves in the sensitive skin of her forearm. She itched for action, for movement, her patience tested beyond endurance. Sorry, a sly voice whispered through her subconscious. No more waiting.

She slipped into the rest of her soiled clothes and pushed out the door.

Part of Karsia hated to mar the beauty outside, seeing the freshly fallen snow as a blank slate. The other part urged her to destroy. A simple line of footprints or the complete decimation of a newly constructed snowman. Oh, the tears on those little faces, she thought with savage glee. She would give anything to see their misery bloom and grow.

It was so simple, taking something beautiful and turning it into something ugly.

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