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  DARK POSSESSION

  Phaedra Weldon

  Copyright © 2013 by Phaedra Weldon

  All rights reserved.

  Smashwords Edition

  Cover Design Copyright © 2013 Design by Trap Door

  Cover Image Copyright © anpet2000 | Bigstock

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely fictional. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  February 14th

  Dear Uncle,

  Continuing forward. That's my new mantra. There isn't anywhere else for me to go. I can't go backward. My other life's gone. And honestly…I don't want to return. I'm ashamed and embarrassed for most of what I became.

  In the past year I've done so many things I regret. I think my first mistake, the inciting event that lead to my spiral down, was fusing an ancient magical tome to the man I love. But I was desperate to save him, even as I felt him dying. I don't mean I regret what I did, I mean I can clearly see that using the magic I'd copied from the Grimoire twisted something inside of me. The book's cursed. It's evil. It was written by a demon so it can only do demonic things.

  I have to laugh, Uncle, when I read that last line. Me. Calling Abysmal beings demonic. It's true I guess. But a part of me knows not all things Abysmal are evil, and by all means, not all things Ethereal are good. There's too much gray between the two of them. You tried to warn me, didn't you? So many times while you taught me within the Society.

  I was just supposed to watch and learn. Report back on the most important find to the group. The only Irin born to a witch in a century. How were we to know the First Born's touch would change her nature into something so…different?

  A month ago I could use magic. I could bend things to my will. Manipulate people, places and things. Hell, I even manipulated a man into loving me because I loved him. From the moment we met I knew he only had eyes for someone I believed was my best friend. It hurts in places I don't talk about, knowing her friendship is long gone. Not just because I betrayed her, but because I forced her to do something that forever put a wedge between us.

  I started this journal after you died, Uncle. I missed our evening talks so much, I though if I wrote down what I needed to tell you, it would be like you were still there.

  But something happened…something I haven't told you about because it's taken me over a month to accept. And I have. I really have.

  Zoë ripped my magic from me.

  I'm no longer a witch.

  There.

  I said it.

  And it's taken me this long to be able to say it or write it without breaking apart. I never knew until that second, standing in Between when I faced the Wraith as she was truly meant to be, magic was little more than an accessory to be worn or removed. I did terrible things to her, even before the Dominion stepped into my life and made me its puppet. Taking Darren nearly destroyed her. He'd given me comfort for a while, even if I knew his feelings, his devotion to me, was a lie.

  Rhonda looked up from her journal and stared at the television screen. She didn't recognize the images, or the show. TV and its mindless drama hadn't played a part in her life for over a year. Not since Zoë's run-in with TC. Archer. What ever his name was. He was the Phantasm now, and it suited him. He would be a good leader.

  Should she write to her uncle about what happened?

  Probably not. Knowles was never a great supporter of the Abysmal ilk. His loyalties rested in the strength of the Seraphim and the Ethereals. Members of the Society weren't supposed to root for one side or the other. And Knowles had shared his opinion with his niece.

  She missed him.

  Funny, how after all this time, she still didn't blame Zoë for killing him. She didn't have control of herself and obeyed orders. I was the target and my uncle got in the way.

  Rhonda Orly's new life was finally under way. She sat back in the chair of her desk and looked at her new house. Forget the fact it was close to where Nona's shop used to be. Rhonda drove by the ruins every day on her way to her new job, and always felt a sense of sadness. She loved the old placed and missed those maddeningly good but fattening breakfasts Nona used to make on Wednesday.

  She also missed Zoë.

  More than she cared to admit.

  She was the only real friend Rhonda had ever had. She was the only person I'd ever allowed myself to get close to. And look what I did…

  With a deep breath she set her pen down and put her hands on her desk. No pity. No more thinking about regrets. New life. New friends. New start. She closed the book and tucked it into the top right drawer of the desk along with her pen and stood up. It was Saturday, the temperature was mild for February, and she had a painting class she didn't want to miss.

  Once dressed in jeans, sneakers, tee-shirt and peacoat, she laughed when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror behind the door. No one would recognize her now. Not Darren. Not even Zoë. Nona would, because Nona had been the one to help her start these changes.

  That small curtesy, that wondrous part of Nona Martinique that accepted and forgave was enough to help Rhonda rebuild her life. Nona was the last person she expected to see at her door after moving in, and yet the woman had visited many times. They didn't talk about what happened. They didn't talk about Darren, or Zoë or even what happened to the house.

  They only talked about what Rhonda's future should be.

  Getting a make over had been top priority. Cutting her hair into a much more flattering style, removing the black dye, and purging black from her wardrobe worked. She felt new. She was new. And after several weeks of Zoomba classes she felt new.

  Everything was new.

  Because continuing forward was her motto now. There was nowhere to go but forward.

  She noticed the white van parked outside her new home now and then. The Society. Not always one for subtlety. Most days it wasn't there, or if it was, it was hidden well. But when she noticed, she waved and drove off in her own car. It never followed her. But then again, if it did, she never saw it.

  The fact they still kept tabs on her was annoying as well as comforting. She wanted to be on her own, something she had never done. She grew up in the Society. But she also liked knowing if something happened to her, the Society would know and be there to help.

  It was kind of like having an overbearing family.

  Her painting class was held at the local Michael's craft store. She breezed in with her supplies, took her seat in the back and enjoyed a relaxing afternoon of therapeutic brush strokes with harmonizing colors.

  "Wow…you do a good job with picking colors."

  At first, Rhonda didn't realize the voice was addressing her. When she did, and turned to her right, she nearly jumped out of her chair. The man was beautiful to a point of her thinking, he's gay. He was tall, with longish brown hair, hazel eyes and a thin face. He wore the store's apron over his shirt and jeans and a had small blue stone in his left earlobe. "Oh uh….thanks."

  He stuck out his hand. "Remi Laborde. I'm not an art student but I can appreciate it."

  She took his hand. It was a bit rough but warm. And his grip was strong. "Rhonda Orly."

  "Nice to meet you Rhonda." He released her hand. "I've been watching everyone this morning, but yours is the best." He leaned in close. "In my opinion. But I'm just the stock boy." He pulled back and winked.

  Rhonda put her hand to her cheek. I'm blushing! Heat rose from her neck to her cheeks and she tried not to appear as flustered as she felt. "Oh uh…well thanks again. And there's nothing wrong with being a stock boy. I'm a stock girl. But I
work at Sevenanda's."

  "Oh I love that place." Remi's grin was infectious as was his friendliness. "Maybe I'll see you there one day."

  "Maybe you will."

  He took her hand, kissed it, and disappeared from the room.

  The girl to her left leaned closer. "We've been taking bets on whether he's gay or not. Looks like you proved he isn't."

  Rhonda felt more heat rise to her cheeks, but nothing stopped the first smile she'd enjoyed in months.

  So…maybe this new life wasn't going to be so bad?

  February 20th

  Dear Uncle,

  I met someone! He's three years older than me. And he's graduating soon from Georgia State! His degree's in economics and he's already got a job lined up with some company downtown.

  I know I sound like a school girl…but this is the first time a guy's shown interest in me. All through school I was the one sitting alone at a table, watching girls with their boyfriends. I always wondered how they got them. How did they get those boys to pay attention to them? Notice them? Back then it was all about manipulating, uncle. Just like it was with Darren. From the moment I met him and I knew he was interested in Zoë, all I could think about was how I could make him look at me.

  And now…

  Now here's a guy who came to me!

  We met at my painting class. He liked my work. And he came to Sevenanda's Monday morning because I told him that's where I worked. Then he waited around until my lunch break and we ate over at Vortex. Uncle…it was the most fun I've had in years. No magic. No lying. No deceit. It was just…NICE.

  We met at Front Page News the next night, and then on Thursday he treated me to Savage Pizza. I thought at first he was just seeing me because I could eat him under the table (which is okay since I've lost so much weight), but then last night he did it! He kissed me! And it was a real kiss, uncle. I called Nona right after it and we talked for an hour. She was so happy for me. Happy in a way I needed to hear.

  I don't know where this will go, or if it has to go anywhere. I told Nona I don't want to put any kind of strings on this, any kind of limitations. I want it to go where it will. I want…I want to be happy, uncle. And I think I'm finally getting there.

  It's Saturday morning…I always find time to write these on Saturday mornings. I've got painting class in a few hours. His name's Remi Laborde! He's in Savannah this weekend with family. He's supposed to be back tomorrow afternoon and then we're going to catch a movie—I don't care which one—at Phipps and then maybe an evening at Maggiano's. Yeah, it's all about the food.

  I wish you were here and you could see I'm finally becoming a good person again. I wish you could hold me like you used to, uncle, and tell me things will be okay. Because I could believe you now.

  And I have a confession to make; I'm happy about no longer being a part of that world. The one you raised me in. I don't regret having experienced it, I do regret the things I've done, but I don't want it anymore. I want this. I want normality. I want to fall in love one day, and maybe have a family.

  You think it's possible, uncle?

  I do. For the first time, I really, really do.

  Remi looked tired when she met him Sunday afternoon. He smiled when he saw her, which lit up his face. And he kissed her as if his life depended on it.

  "You all right?" Rhonda asked him after he bought their tickets and stood in line for over-priced popcorn. "Maybe you should go home and sleep?"

  "No, no, I'm fine." He told her and kissed her temple. "Just had a lot of excitement back home."

  "Oh? Want to tell me about it?"

  "Well, there's this cemetery there called Bonaventure. Pretty much made famous by that book."

  "Yeah. Midnight In The Garden Of Good And Evil."

  "Yep. We just call it The Book. Anyway, my parents live nearby and we've always sort of used the place to hang out in. I know it sounds kinda weird, but the cemetery is on the coast. If you go into the back you can see the marsh and it's pretty cool." He stopped telling the story once they got to the counter and ordered a large popcorn and offered to share a soda.

  When they were in their seats, she prodded him. "So…you saw ghosts or something?"

  He laughed at her. "No. We were sitting on this bench looking out over the water when three people showed up in the water. Just…they weren't there, then they were there. A woman and two men. One of the guys looked bad—had all these nasty gashes down his back and his shirt was ripped to hell."

  "What? Where did they come from? Did they fall off a boat?"

  "I don't know. One of my friends called an ambulance—had to bring in a second one for the bigger guy. The girl looked shaken but she wasn't hurt far as we could tell. They were all pale but alive. We hung around until the ambulances left and the police asked us questions."

  "You didn't get in trouble for drinking in the cemetery?"

  "Drinking? Oh…" he laughed. "No we weren't drinking alcohol. I had a Yoohoo and most everyone else had energy drinks. I don't drink alcohol."

  Rhonda's heart skipped. "You don't drink? Ever?"

  He pulled to the side of his seat and looked at her. "Is that a problem?"

  "No! I think it's wonderful! My dad was an alcoholic." Then she sobered. "Wait…you're not a born-again anything are you?"

  Remi laughed out loud and gathered a few looks. "Oh hell no. I was raised Baptist but I haven't really been a great church goer. And besides, about the cemetery, we knew the cops and they knew us. They were more curious how those three ended up in the marsh. They assumed a gator got hold of that one guy."

  "Did he live?"

  "I don't know. We stayed in the cemetery after hours," Remi said as he frowned. "And then we woke up there the next morning. It was kinda weird. We were so wiped out most of us slept all day Saturday. We went out again last night to grab wings and watch some TV in a local sports bar." He turned a confused face to her. "But we weren't hungry. I'm still not that hungry."

  Rhonda grinned as she slid the popcorn into her lap. "Then you won't mind if I finish this up, huh?"

  Remi smiled and put a finger under her chin. "You are amazing, Rhonda Orly."

  And she knew he meant it. He really, really meant it.

  February 25th

  Dear Uncle,

  I'm getting a little worried about Remi. He hasn't been eating right since he got back from Savannah. And unlike most guys, he did go to the doctor. Doctor didn't find any cause for his lack of appetite. Just a warning he was getting dehydrated and he'd lost nearly 10 pounds. He's already tall and thin enough.

  He's missed a few days of work. Luckily he's off on Monday but Tuesday he didn't go in. Wednesday he did and then called me to see if I could pick him up. He was too dizzy to drive. My boss is the best and let me have the day off. I picked Remi up and took him straight to the emergency room.

  Nine hours later and $50 poorer, we didn't know anything.

  I let him stay with me and he insisted he sleep on the couch. And that's where he's been. It's like he's just wasting away. I want him to take an AIDs test and he's agreed, but something tells me that's not it. I don't want to think this is somehow…well…magically related to the world I left. And if I still had my power I'd be very tempted to check him out.

  I just don't know. I sort of want to introduce him to Nona, but I don't want that world intruding on my new life. And though I really care and respect her, she represents a pretty big chunk of it.

  I really, really wish you were here to tell me what I should do. Though I'm pretty sure you'd suggest the Society House. Sorry, but I'm on a self-imposed ban from that place. I…I don't think I could handle the stares and daggers thrown at me if I showed back up. Too many people blame me for so much…it doesn't matter I was possessed, or influenced, or whatever that Dominion did to me. It's still me.

  And they still don't trust me.

  Gotta move away from those thoughts. It's Wednesday evening and I'm heading out to get some Chinese food. Hoping it'll tempt Remi to eat.
He does want to watch a movie so I'm picking something up at Redbox too.

  I just wish I knew what kind of bug he has. I don't want to lose him.

  To Rhonda's delight, Remi ate the Chinese with gusto. And he drank a few glasses of Gatorade. He was also alert and watched the movie. Though she couldn't remember what it was. Rhonda was just happy to see Remi responding again. They rested together on the couch, arm in arm, with her back against this chest.

  After the movie ended he switched the channel back to cable and found a sitcom. "Rhonda…"

  "Mmhmm?"

  "Have you ever been unhappy with your life?"

  That was an alarming question coming from Remi. She pushed herself up and faced him. He remained reclined, his back on the cushions of the armrest. "What do you mean? Are you having suicidal thoughts?"

  "Oh no. Nothing like that. I am having thoughts but I'm not sure where they're coming from. I mean, like, just during the movie, there was a running commentary in my head. I don't think it was my self-conscious. You know how you always have a voice talking but it's you, thinking those things you shouldn't say out loud?"

  "Yeah. I know the voice. And this voice wasn't the one during the movie?"

  "No. And I'm hearing it all the time, ever since I woke up in the cemetery."

  "So…what's it saying?"

  "Well," Remi said as he shifted his position on the couch. "Right now, it wants me to talk to you. It wanted me to ask you that question. The one about you being happy with your life."

  Rhonda pursed her lips. "So this voice you're hearing…wants to know if I'm happy with my life?" It was a weird question, mostly because he asked it outwardly, not inwardly. As far as she knew, the inner voice usually asked about it self. Not other people.

  "Yeah."

  "Yes I am."

  "Well, it also wants me to tell you something I don't understand. And it's getting insistent."