Hunted by Darkness

Anabelle

Sarah

She remembered.

Gabriel showing her the book with the odd symbols and the map and the Bible-like story. Yet, there was no God in this story. There was Light and there was Darkness. There was Life, and there was Death. There were Existence and Nothingness.

They didn’t quite believe it, of course, but it would be an adventure. Gabriel had figured out where the place was; the place the book spoke about. Something was going to happen on the night of the Equinox. All they had to do was be there.

‘It’s at the back of a field,’ he had said, the tops of his ears red, an unequivocal sight of his excitement. ‘Then there is some bushes and tall grass, just before some trees. Well, that’s what the maps show. But in between all that stuff… it’s there.’

She remembered pitching the tent at the festival. Might as well kill two birds with one stone. There days of music and partying and one midnight adventure.

She remembered both of them jumping with the rest of the crowd, hundreds of hearts pounding in unison, following the rhythm of the music, as hands reached up into the air and voices became hoarse after singing all night. Sweat ran down her back, and it was a relief when Gabriel lifted her on his broad shoulders. Out of the claustrophobic mass of people, the air up there swept her bare limbs and cooled her down.

But night fell, the concerts ended, and the party raged on in the mud, the grass, and even as the rain started.

They didn’t stay.

They grabbed their backpacks and made their way out of the boundaries of the Festival and walked along a narrow path, torches in hand.

The grass tickled her thighs as they left the field.

‘It should be over there,’ she said, pointing ahead with her spare hand, as Gabriel held firmly onto the other one.

He didn’t look back, pulling her ahead. The closer they got, the more she felt it. It was in the air, thick as butter, like the vibration of the metal after ringing a church bell. Like a constant, high-pitched humming, becoming denser as they approached the tower.

The tower. They were fools. Gabriel convinced her there would be something interesting in the underground rooms, but it had nothing to do with what was there, or even when. What mattered is who was there. Her.

It was her they needed there. She didn’t know that at the time, and she must wonder if Gabriel did know. All along, he had known more than her. At first, she thought that because of her amnesia she had refused to ask him more questions, afraid of what she might find out.

This. This is what she didn’t want to find out.

Because something happened that night, and she wasn’t sure she could describe it.

They stayed there for a while after she reached in between the stones and dug the soil out of the cracks, trying to get enough space to slide her fingers in and lift the heavy slabs. They were at it for hours and never managed to move one even half an inch.

‘I don’t think we’ll manage without tools,’ she said, drying the sweat off her forehead with the back of her sleeve. ‘Maybe we should come back tomorrow with a crowbar or a shovel or something.’

Gabriel dropped on the floor, leaning back, his hands on the ground, and stared up at the sky. It was mild and it was clear, up there, the stars shining brighter for the lack of artificial light.

He sighed, and she watched him as he smirked to himself.

‘What are you thinking about?’ she asked him.

‘I was thinking we might have come for nothing…’ he turned his face to her, a smile on his lips, his body sinking in itself, a sense of peace descending onto him.

Sarah looked up at the stars too, and the air seemed to tremble around her, shivering in the night. And it became stronger, and the world became brighter. So bright she couldn’t see. So bright she couldn’t hear.

So bright she was suddenly sitting in a sea of white. But not a still, peaceful white, not like a minimalistic room. Instead, it was wavering and moving, everchanging, ropes of light moving around her, thick and powerful, trapping her in a net of energy.

And she wasn’t alone.

Another woman stood right in front of her, with dark, wavy hair falling over her shoulders and bright blue eyes, it was almost like looking in a mirror. Except that the woman was older. Maybe she was seeing her future.

Sarah lifted her right hand, and the woman lifted her left at the same time. They tilted their heads om unison. They stepped forward.

Her fingers reached out, expecting to find a flat, cold surface, but all she found was the soft, plump skin of the woman’s fingertips.

As soon as they touched, her back arched to breaking point, her lungs emptied of air, her muscles tight like ropes. Pain flooded her brain and spread through her body like lightning hitting every cell. She wanted to scream but she couldn’t.

Her body convulsed over and over again; the pain so sharp she thought she would pass out. She hoped she would pass out.

Yet, she didn’t. She felt like she was flying, like she was moving, somehow.

And then the woman disappeared, and the light went out, and she was lying in the grass. Everything hurt. Her brain was made of lead when she lifted her head. Heavy, it fell back unto the soft ground with the silent crushing of vegetation. She wanted to call out for Gabriel, but her throat was dry and tight. She wanted to move her hands, but she didn’t have the strength to lift them. The pain that had been so sharp before, like being sliced open one muscle at a time, was now a dull, palpitating ache all over her body. Slowly, exhausted, and despite the pain, she fell asleep.

Or maybe somebody listened to her prayers and she finally passed out.

But when she woke up, she didn’t remember any of it. Not the light, not the woman, not even the pain. Not her past.

Her parents. She remembered her parents. A wild euphoria filled her until she put those images together with her more recent memories, and she froze inside. She wanted to cry, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t think, she didn’t have time.

The woman was here again.

Except that she wasn’t another person, standing in front of her, looking at her. She was inside her. She was a part of Sarah, and not only did she remember her own life, but she also remembered hers.

Hers were the memories of the blond, beautiful boy across the field. Hers were the sensations of his lips on her mouth. Hers were the shivers when he touched her body.

‘You’re Damian’s wife,’ she told her, inside her, as her strange warmth filled her body.

‘Well done. You’re quick-witted. That’s good.’

‘Is it?’

‘It depends if you use your wits to help me or fight me. I’d rather you did the former, it’ll make it easier for me to use you.’

‘Use me? What the…’

‘Keep your questions for later. We have bigger problems now, Sarah…’

And just like that, her consciousness was back into the present, her skin burning because of the icy tentacles clinging to her skin. A million questions ran in her mind, including why her body felt so small. It was tight. Every muscle was contracted to maximum hardness, as she resisted the force of the creatures trying to tear her apart.

Except that she was not doing anything.

Sarah could see out of her eyes, though there was nothing to see, and breathe through her nose, though all she breathed was putrid air. She could feel her own heart pumping hard, pushing blood through her veins. What she couldn’t feel was her body’s response. If she tried to move her fingers, nothing happened. If she decided to relax her arm, her bicep and triceps remained tight.

She was in the middle of it, like last time, but even though her heart was creating havoc in her chest, it wasn’t fear driving it. It was determination. The other woman’s determination, born from the confidence of knowing she could win this fight.

White heat ignited in her gut, expanding through her intestines and her stomach. Her pancreas, her liver. It scorched her lungs and singed her vocal cords, forcing her mouth open and a scream from her lips. Her bones vibrated and her skin melted like a layer of wax.

She screamed as the darkness became grey and the grey became white, a white so bright it hurt her eyes to the point of blindness. A white so bright she thought she was in that other place again.

The release was so powerful, Sarah was afraid it might take her away with it, and yet, she felt an immediate sense of relief as the darkness retreated from her. She floated down, and her feet connected to the floor, slow, as the faint light of the hall came back, and the shadows stuck to the walls.

Panting, her eyes adjusted to the light and took in the scene. The destruction hit her like a freight train. Harsh, cold wind blew in through the broken windows and the door, wooden remnants hanging from the hinges.

The undulating dark forms seemed to be waiting, ready to attack at any moment, and while they had no facial features, they were watching, their fierce gaze concentrated on her.

Her head turned, even though she wasn’t making it, and she saw Karen, lying on the floor to her right. Legs stuck out from under the debris, farther back, and she couldn’t tell if the darks stains were blood or not.

Her heart lurched as she turned left. Or was it the woman’s? She couldn’t tell where she ended, and the woman started.

The figure lying on the floor, with his dishevelled blond hair, and his long limbs tangled with broken chunks of wood awoke her instincts. With a growl, her hands flew high into the air, and the broken door pieces, the shards of glass, and bits of window frames lifted into the air like an upside-down rain, each piece glowing. The woman pulled back her arms, before throwing them forward as if slamming a massive, heavy door. The wreckage cut the air like throwing knives and slammed into the now retreating darkness, their limbs sliding through every exit they could find. They weren’t fast enough, though, as many of them took the hit, the light piercing their gooey exterior. Their glossy surfaces solidified, then cracked, bright lights racing through their supernatural bodies, while animalistic shrieks filled the air.

She stood still, watching, her chest heaving, her blood pumping and her face contorted in an expression she had never made before.

The voices died down leaving only the slow, melancholy chant of the wind and her body started to let go, her muscles loosening up as she took one step, then another. Every time her foot touched the floor, she felt weaker. By the time she got to Damian, she collapsed on her knees, her hands on his shoulder. Gently, fighting the closure of her eyes, she pulled him towards her, letting him rest on his back.

He was not dead. His energy had been so much clearer after this other woman woke up inside her. It was like a net, part of him spreading wide around him. Or maybe he was part of the net. It didn’t matter. The important part was that the energy flowed in and out of him, as it was meant to, as it did with all living things.

She blinked.

How did she even know that?

The idea had come into her mind unprompted, and it had done so with confidence such as one can only expect from the truth.

The woman used her mouth to try to speak, but no voice came out, yet Sarah knew she could speak if she wanted to.

Whether because she moved him, or because the beasts had retreated and their absence made the tension drop, Damian let a grunt out as his eyes started to open. Tears were filling her eyes as his opened. Not Sarah’s tears. It didn’t feel like her heart either, the thing beating furiously in her chest. Her fingertips hovered over his face, not going any farther, as if she was afraid of what would happen when they touched.

‘Sarah?’ his voice was hoarse.

Hearing her name, her heart beat so hard she thought she was being stabbed. It was a pain that crushed her chest. The woman shook her head, yet again completely out of her control, and Sarah’s mind filled with images that were not hers. Flashes of things she had never seen with her own eyes.

Flashes of thousands of glutinous, black beings surrounding her. Her hands lit with white fire. Damian at her side, his teeth set, his knees bent, like a lion ready to pounce. Scintillating force buzzing through her veins. Or maybe they weren’t veins, but channels. Channels that fed her body with primordial light. And the woman’s primordial light was strong, stronger than anything Sarah had ever felt. Stronger even than the light that exploded in her only a few minutes ago.

Melting Old Ones, as they kept coming, over and over. The more they defeated, the more came. There was no end to it.

Eyes that looked up. The sky, a mantel of complete darkness, a door to the end of everything, a door to Death, to nonexistence. A door to the beginning of beginnings.

And panic. Bitter taste in her mouth, the trembling of her hands. Not her hands, the woman’s hands. Her legs, vibrating with energy, climbing her thighs, climbing her torso, extending through paths like tree branches, all the way to her fingertips and the ends of her hair.

The woman looked up at the sky, and there were the ropes of white, silvery force that blanketed the world, wrapped every plant, every animal and every inanimate object. And the ropes that climbed high into the sky, convergent in a distant point, hidden behind the agonizing sky.

The woman’s eyes lifted up high, looking past it all, higher than anything that she could actually see, and her force reached up, as if trying to grab something, as if trying to connect with something out of sight. She felt it in her fingertips first, a burning sensation like hell must feel like. A scream escaped her lips, high, saturating the air. Even the rocks trembled. And then they rose. Trees cracked and bent and stretched. Inhuman shrieks came from the creatures of blackness that surrounded her, the ones that were about to engulf Damian. They needed to die before it was too late. And for that, she only had one choice. If she couldn’t expulse the Nothingness back to the confines of the universe, then she would have to pull the force of existence down to Earth.

It burnt. Her eyes hurt as the light took over her body. Her skin suffered the bite of a million hot irons, and she tasted blood in her mouth from her incessant scream.

As the black things were repelled, her eyes turned, half blind, to where her husband, the man she loved, the man she worshipped, was standing. With a burning hand, she reached for him, and his gaze turned and filled with despair. He spoke, at that moment, but the woman’s ears couldn’t hear anything, the nerves singed by the power she carried.

Bit by bit, it stopped hurting. Her hands and feet first. Her legs. The pleasant relief climbing her body like the energy had done before. And as her lips and her nose stopped feeling anything, her eyes became blind, the last sight of her husband reaching out for her engraved in her psyche.

His voice brings her back, her heart racing and the tears in her eyes no longer other’s.

Damian’s lips parted again. He had said something, but she was elsewhere, her mind disconnected from the present.

His voice was barely a murmur, but it didn’t matter, because they heard it, and the woman’s heart swelled in her chest with the warmth of ten summers. It was the very word she wanted to hear.

‘Anabelle?’