Dark Corners READY FOR PRC (43 page)

 Prologue

A lifetime of things happened to me in the eleven months since I turned sixteen, some of which I believed to be wholly impossible.

The memories of this entire year passed through my mind now, as if on fast forward, in one unbelievable second. 

I saw the first day I noticed Vance Mangum watching me, our first kiss, and the moment he declared his undying love for me.  Images of our wedding and of the many times he held me so close and intimately in his arms swirled around in my head. 

All of this, on top of receiving the news I was actually a witch descended from a long line of witches and warlocks, made for one unimaginable year.   As if the family secret wasn't enough, much to my astonishment I discovered Vance was a warlock too . . . a very powerful one.

I didn’t know then the appearance of Vance in my life would so completely turn things upside down.  While our relationship was filled with many moments which were like a dream come true, marriage to Vance for instance, most of our time together was tangled up in an ever threatening web of lies and deceit.  Some of those deceptions nearly cost us our lives, and eventually one did cost Vance his.

That's what brought us to this moment tonight, when I realized with an aching heart …Vance had changed.

Chapter One

“What do you mean, who am I?” I stuttered, staring in disbelief at the face of my nineteen year old husband trying to comprehend him.

His demon looking eyes glowed red as his hard expression moved over me.

“Who are you?” he asked again, his grip on my arms growing painful.

“I'm your wife!” I exclaimed, trying to remove myself from his tightening grasp.

“You're ... what?” he questioned me, a puzzled look flashing over his face.  He released me, taking a step backward and moving out of the moonlight and into the shadows behind him.  Only his mistrustful crimson eyes remained visible.

“Vance, what’s going on?” I asked and I gestured between him and the grave he stood next to, one that until recently he occupied.

He looked at me hesitantly.  “Vance?  Is that my name?” he spoke, his voice quiet in the darkness.

My heart pounded loudly at his reply.  Was he joking?  He didn’t know his own name?  “You honestly don’t remember anything?”  I moved into the shadow next to him trying to see him better.  “What's the last memory you have?” I added, fear shooting through me.

The silence was deafening for a moment, before he answered.  “I woke up in complete darkness, feeling like I couldn't breathe because the air seemed so thin.  I realized I was in a casket and I needed to get out.  I pushed hard up against the lid, but it didn't budge.”  He paused and lifted his hands to stare at them, his face growing reflective.  “It seems weird now ... somehow I managed to heat up the surface and it melted the whole top. The dirt fell in on me and I clawed up through the soil until I was able to climb out. Then I saw you,” he said, his gaze returning to me. “So you don’t remember anything about your life prior to your death?” I noticed my knees trembling beneath me.

His eyes never left me as he slowly shook his head.  “I was dead?  You're sure?” he asked in low tones as if he was afraid to believe it.   I could only manage to nod in reply. He swallowed hard and flicked his stare back toward the grave he'd been in.  “It doesn’t make sense.” He glanced about himself.  “I mean, I know how to speak and what things are.  I just don’t know … who I am.”

My mind raced as I tried to think of a reasonable explanation for what was going on.  I mean it was obvious something happened to him.  I assumed the Awakening was responsible.  It must have reversed his death; taking a long time to work since he’d been nearly dead when he had received it.

He doesn’t remember me
.  The thought raced through and pierced me to the soul.

“Do you think you can trust me?” I asked, my calm tone belying the frantic feelings coursing inside of me.  “I know some things about you which might help you out.”

He darted a glance around the cemetery before he replied.  “Well, you're the only one here, so I suppose I can give you a shot,” he said, his gaze settling back on me.

I placed a hand on my chest, wondering if he noticed it trembling.  “My name is Portia Mangum.” I paused, hoping it would jog his memory, but there was no reaction from him.  “Yours is Vance Mangum.  The two of us were married about seven months ago,” I added, feeling as though my heart was caught in a vise that was getting tighter by the second.

“You seem awfully young for that,” he replied, the skepticism showing on his face.

“I am,” I answered him honestly.  “I’ll be seventeen next month.”

“How old am I?” he asked.

“You turned nineteen in April.” 

“Why would we get married so young?”  He looked me over from head to toe, his eyes pausing at my mid section and the baggy shirt of his I was wearing, before traveling back up to stare at me pointedly.

“Well, that’s where the story gets a little more complicated,” I replied. I quickly tried to figure out the best way to approach the subject.

“Just tell it to me straight. I don’t need you to sugar coat things for me.”

“All right, you remember how you told me you melted the lid off the casket?” I asked and he nodded.  “Well, you're magical.  Actually, you're a warlock and I'm a witch.”

I didn't need to be able to read his mind to know he thought I'd gone completely crazy.

“You're joking, right?”  For a hint of a second, I saw a flash of his old sardonic grin, and my heart did little flip flops at the sight.

“I’m not, and I'll prove it to you,” I said, stepping even closer to him so close I could feel the heat coming from his body.

He really was alive.

“May I touch your hand?” I asked, holding mine out toward him in a relaxed gesture.

He paused, staring at me with narrowed eyes as though he were trying to decide if I was just messing with him.  He raised his hand to mine and I wondered if he felt the same spark I did when we touched.

I wrapped my hands around his, pushing until he had it balled up into a fist.  I held it for a moment while I looked up to search his eyes.  He stared back at me, unmoving, so I continued on.

“Okay, I need you to concentrate.  Take all the emotions you've got running through your body right now, and center them together.  When you feel like you have control over them, start to focus those energies into your palm, while you’re thinking of the word
—
fire.  Whenever you're ready, open your hand.”

I stepped back, dropping my hands to my sides.

He looked at me like I was crazy, but he closed his eyes and after taking a deep breath, he thrust his fingers open quickly.

A rolling wave of heat permeated the air with a blast and I fell to the ground just as a gigantic pillar of fire shot up from his extended palm.  Instinctively, I raised an arm up over my face, trying to protect myself from the high temperature radiating from him.  It was clear the Awakening had strengthened his powers astronomically.

He stared at it in shock, at first, before a stealthy smile spread over his face.  He began to twist his arm this way and that, playing with the fire he held so much control over.   I watched him in amazement while he moved the inferno back and forth, creating a giant arc between his hands as if he were manipulating a blazing slinky.  He continued to move the controlled blaze until he had two pillars of fire twisting into different kinds of patterns.  He was smiling fully when he allowed the flames to dance up his arms to his shoulders.  I found it interesting none of his clothing combusted with the intense heat.  He must have some type of magic that encompassed whatever he's wearing.  I continued to watch him as he moved with both grace and control, mesmerized by his ability, until he finally remembered I was still there.

The fire went out immediately, leaving us in the dark once again.  My eyes struggled to adjust to the abrupt change in light when suddenly a flame the size of a cigarette lighter appeared in the air, dancing on the top of his finger which he held out between us.

“I believe you,” he said matter-of-factly, looking straight at me.  His eyes turned to look at the glowing fire.  “Was I always this way?”

“Not at this level of expertise.” Shaking my head, I climbed back to my feet.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Well, you've always been powerful,” I explained.  “But right before you died, you received a special power called the Awakening.  It’s strengthened your powers far beyond what they were previously.”

“So, what's this Awakening thing and why'd I get it?”  He seemed truly curious about everything I was telling him.

I sighed.  My explanations were getting all jumbled up.

“Well, it's hard for me to explain without starting from the beginning.  Suffice to say, it's a paranormal gift which you and I are both the recipients of.  It's responsible for the significant strengthening of our powers, as well as making us immortal.”

“Immortal?  As in, neither of us can die?” he responded and he lifted an eyebrow at me.

“Basically, that's the case, at least not for several hundred years anyway if you take the prophecy at face value.  We haven't exactly had time to test things out,” I said with a shrug, wondering if he too thought I sounded like a moron.

 “But didn’t you just say I was dead?” he asked, giving a slight jerk of his head back toward the opened grave he had recently occupied.

“Yes,” I replied.  “You were near death when you received the Awakening.  I’m guessing as your body died the Awakening kept working to restore you
—
bringing you to immortal status.  It apparently took a while to happen.”

He thought this over for a moment.  “Okay,” he said, nodding slightly.  “I kind of get that.  What I don’t understand is how any of this stuff explains the marriage thing.”