Prologue
Prologue
The midnight sky was swallowed up by ambient light, the streets below were flushed with the stinging yellow, blues and pinks of neon signs. In contrast to the impenetrable darkness that leeched low through the streets.
The patter of rain on the roof echoed in the tiny yellow Jeep, overwhelming the other sounds of the busy nightlife. The splashing from the wheels dipping into filled potholes and overrun gutters, gave her the uneasy feeling of being adrift at sea. The rain eventually began to relent, leaving the pavement glistening black and reflective.
Zola had been driving for the last 24 hours. She had passed and paid for several bridges and had stopped paying attention to which city they brought her.
Where she found herself now was in stark difference from her home, where she belonged. Only the night before, she was comfortably resting in the muggy heat of late spring, when she felt …something.
It was like a sharp pebble in her shoe, but without a direct spot of irritation. It felt dark and corrupting, and it resisted her like a negative magnet. It did not want this connection with her anymore then she wanted to feel it, it repelled her. Unfortunately, like the previously mentioned pebble, she could not rest until she had dug it out. She followed the repulsive feeling, first outside her small shop, and now in her car along a seemingly endless route. It was oddly satisfying to seek out the darkness even as it resisted her, she could see how some could become addicted to it.
She had tried turning on the radio somewhere around either Alabama or Tennessee, but the music came out sinister. They were the same love ballads she had heard most of her life, many times she had sung along to them, but now they seemed obsessive, carnal, and twisted. The words hadn’t changed, only the meaning.
She grimaced and turned the knob until it clicked off, concerned that it was not the radio that had been affected by the darkness, but herself.
The street she drove was a forest of towering buildings, some played giant video ads promoting the newest theater productions, and large sprawling shop windows filled with everything from toys to fashion. She recognized some of the streets she passed from tv shows and movies, but that didn’t help her figure out where exactly she was, neither did the upcoming sign that read W 46th St.
She realized dully with an exhausted mind that she was in New York, she had never been here before and had no idea of its geography. Was she nearing Broadway or Soho? Or neither.
Eventually the more impressive adverts diminished, and the shops gave way to the simpler buildings, her guess was apartments or offices.
She could see it now, not just feel it, a darkness that tentacled out into the consuming light, yet unaffected by it. It was radiating out from a single building whose height alone made her stomach curl into itself. She felt a single prayer to her goddesses escape her lips; she knew she couldn’t go up there.
She parked parallel with other, nicer cars and got out. Hesitant, really having no choice. She stepped up the steps leading to glass doors and stared at the fancy dressed man standing in the lobby. She had never been to a place that had a doorman before, how on earth would she ever make it past him.
A woman’s scream pierced through the bustling noise and Zola immediately ran to it, turning left, down the building’s alley. She dashed past piles of trash bags and an over-filled dumpster, her chunky sandals skidding clumsily on wet concrete and the bead work of her long skirt clinked together musically as she passed various scurrying vermin running the opposite direction.
The alleyway led to a private sitting area at the back of the building, meant only for the enjoyment of its residents, but the gate was unlocked, and she entered easily.
She could make out a bench, several rows of trimmed square bushes and a single garden lamp whose electric beam of light was swallowed up uselessly by the darkness. It was a pitch black that hung only a foot above the ground, thick and blinding like fog, turning the garden into a maze. Zola heard soft feminine whimpering, and slowly made her way to it, her hands spread out to feel her way.
“I can’t see anything?” cried a woman’s voice, adding, “Charles? Charles?”
A man’s voice followed, clear and strong, “I’m right here Janet, it’s all right, just some low hanging smog is all, nothing to worry about.”
A couple, Zola figured, they were clearly the target for the evil, but why? A sacrifice, or something baser, food? Either way she guessed by their voices that they were in the far left of the garden. She moved as swiftly as she dared, she followed the path made of red gravel.
By the last row, the darkness began to disperse, now seemingly more akin to a heavy cloud blocking the moon, and the rain has slowed to the point you could be forgiven to think it wasn’t raining at all until you felt a single drop on your face. She could see the couple clearly now; they were smartly dressed in evening clothes that looked more expensive than anything she would be comfortable to wear. Their hair perfectly coiffed, the woman’s rich mahogany tresses was done up in an almost Victorian style bun that could not be achieved without skilled assistance, and the man’s hair was trimmed neatly with artistic attention. They’re beautiful and unblemished in that off-putting artificial way that could only be achieved by lots and lots of money. They didn’t seem to notice her at all, their attention was captured by something on the ground in front of them. The man seemed entranced with a slight sweet smile; the woman’s attractive features were plastered with fear.
“Get back, its evil, it is cursed! Do not give in to temptation,” Zola shouted as she ran to them. She waved her ringed hands at them, her braids whipped about like medusa. She didn’t care that she looked like a mad woman, until she saw what they were staring at and stopped.
At their feet was a naked baby. It looked up at them with the fogged over eyes of the blind.
The woman looked up to Zola and almost looked happy to see her. “Is it yours?” she asked hopefully. Zola was confused, looking down at her own ebony skin to that of the pitiful pale thing before them.
“Umm. Yep,” she said, impulsively scooping the child up and wrapping her red knit scarf around it. It didn’t cry or seem at all uncomfortable, despite having been left naked on the wet grass in the chill of the night.
“Now just wait a minute there,” the man intervened, looking like he was going to rip the child right out of her arms, “How do we know that is your infant, and why was it abandoned out here, to freeze?”
“Come on, Charles, it’s not our problem anymore, I want to go, this whole thing is creepy,” the woman whined and dragged the conflicted Charles into the building. Zola stared after them, feeling a powerful sense of accomplishment, she could no longer feel the darkness, she had ruined its plans. A movement brought her back to the baby in her arms, its tiny fist grabbing her thumb for security. Her grip tightened around the tiny chubby body and sighed, “Well shit, what do I do with you?”
No one else for miles, and only glass and wood separated them from the crashing world outside. This was not romantic.
Kitty clung to Eduardo’s arm, she whimpered and raged not too differently to the storm outside, while the ground moved underneath them.
Together they had traveled the world, experiencing everything from Thailand to Egypt. It made perfect sense to Eduardo for their honeymoon to be in the middle of the ocean, on his, now their private yacht, The Poseidon.
Kitty was squeezing her red-rimmed eyes and buried her head in the chest of the man she loved. She only agreed to this whole fiasco because she knew he wanted to play out some stupid pirate fantasy, and now they’re going to die. She could strangle him, that is, if only she could loosen her arms from his waist.
He clutched her close, kissed the top of her platinum bleached curls, and spoke soothingly to her. He was scared too, he had never been in a storm like this, each wave that crashed against them rocked the boat completely from one side to the other, threatening to flip them. He couldn’t reach the coast guard; they were completely cut off and he knew how easy it was to completely disappear out here. As much as he was afraid, her fear was breaking his heart. His vows were to protect her, and he failed before he even proved to himself that he deserved her.
With one hand on the bolted down furniture, he dragged their entangled bodies to the upper deck and the cabin. He wasn’t sure if he was shivering or if Kitty’s terrified body was rattling them both. “Hold on,” he said, even though there wasn’t a chance in hell that she was going to let go of him.
He took his hand away from her back and reached for one of the life jackets that hung on a hook next to the life preservers. He worked her arms through the vest, but thought helplessly, the freezing waters outside would go straight through her silk lingerie, the one she wore to please him, right now he wished more than anything it was thick flannels, she would freeze before she could drown. He pushed her away only to tighten the belts on her jacket, her eyes went wide with panic.
“What about your life-jacket?” she asked through chattering teeth. She was angry, because angry at that moment felt good, if he would just panic with her, she could pull herself together and be strong. Instead, he was being her rock, and she had no choice but to panic alone. They were both strong swimmers, but what did that matter in this storm, in the center of the freaking ocean. “Put your ja. ja. jacket on,” she demanded with a stutter, reaching for it with a shaky hand. He grabbed it from the hook even as his other arm wrapped about her again in a vice grip. The act sent them both crashing into a table and landing in a lump on the floor before the futon. “Are you ok,” he asked, even as her hands ran about his body looking for damage.
“Jacket now!” was all she could squeak out, he grinned despite himself and answered warmly, “I’m putting it on now, don’t worry.”
The boat went still, as if there had never been a storm, the sky outside the window was clear and star filled, Eduardo shook his head in confusion, “What the hell is going on?” He stood up to make his way to the cabin door, but she grabbed his arm and stopped him, “Not another step until you put the life-jacket on.” She didn’t quite believe the storm had passed; it had turned into a cunning monster in her terrified mind.
An angry scream from outside seemed to confirm her fears, she ran out and down the short stairs to the deck. Eduardo followed out behind her, his life jacket on but unbuckled.
On the wet hard wood paneling, lay a crying abandoned baby. Kitty ran to it fearlessly, lifting it into her arms and holding it tight to her chest. He knew she had never held a baby in her entire life, but she did so now so naturally, it made his heart skip a beat.
He looked down at the little bald head that rested angrily in his wife’s arms, and dark blue almond eyes looked back at him, even as its little lips curled into an upset pout that tremors with the beginnings of a demanding cry. Neither of them bothered asking How or Why, it simply was, and it felt as natural and right as their own love.
