Black Symbols of Light

She let out a sigh, barely audible, as though the absence of sound would cover the waves of raw pulsing energy making their way outwards.

He heard it. The sigh.

And it was enough for him to hesitate, loose the moment. He missed his chance to feed, to kill. He cursed viciously as the wave of human emotions engulfed him, swarmed through his body like a venomous attack on his senses, washed right through him before retreating to leave him feeling nauseated with Need. And shaken, in the way a Human might feel shaken.

He lay on top of her, absorbing her heat, the pulse at her wrist trapped by his thumb. Painfully, he waited for the sensation to pass. Struggling not to bare his teeth. It was best to be still as adrenaline slowly ebbed away. He made a conscious effort to loosen his grip on her wrist, moved his head so that his mouth was no longer pressed against the pulse at her throat.

She lay quite still. Listening to the ragged breathing coming from him, trying to calm her own erratic breath, she kept her eyes closed.

Never, had she let herself be taken away by waves of pleasure like that. Nor had she ever wanted to; it was a job in every sense of the word. In the few years working as she did, selling her body, not once had she ever felt anything, emotionally or physically, which resembled pleasure.

She also worked with the energies of the Universe and had taken care to protect herself; wrapping and binding with the Light of timeless Love and Magics of old, to keep safe her inner most essence. How would she function outside of this work otherwise? Selling her body was a temporary necessity.

Feeling him shift, she felt the first icy trickles of fear slide into the very base of her belly. The shiver wanted to spread. She didn’t let it.

He smelt her fear first and then felt it bloom.

Taming his Thirst for life was not pleasant, nor easy. To push it back was not desirable nor effective for his survival, but something had blocked it in that moment. He had not pushed it back; it had been blocked. He’d felt very human, which puzzled him more than knowing something in this woman had caused the blocking effect. He’d think on it later, right now he had to move.

He felt her tense and looked to her face, her head had been turned to the side, away from him, exposing the slender line of her neck. Feeling the churning within him, a nauseating mix of fire, lust, and desire for blood, he pushed up and away in a brisk, savage movement.

She turned her head slowly then, eyes opening and focussing in, directly meeting his. In that moment, a tangible bolt of energy exchanged between them. He hissed as though physically burned and she, used to concealing everything, felt the burn run through her like hell fire, only her jumping pulse giving her away.

His own almost black eyes bored into hers, so that for a moment there was nothing else, he noticed the smallest flecks of gold amongst the deep green of her iris, like light breaking through the most unforgiving tree canopy.

As shockwaves rippled through the air between them, he moved quickly. Tossing the sheet over her, stepping into his clothes.

Efficient movements gave her brief seconds to observe the over developed muscles of his back, the rough, jagged scar at his hip, waves of jet-black hair framing a face which jarred the senses. He was beautifully haunting. As feelings and thoughts slammed into her, she felt exposed.

Sensing her, he turned. Again, the ripples of energy remained and as though shaken out of a trance, she pulled the sheet to her. Covering herself.

Questions formed and dissolved.

Tension was growing tangible and she felt something could snap at any moment.

He held an envelope out to her, she stared at it, unnerved that she should forget this exchange.

Losing patience, he grabbed her hand, shoved the envelope into it.

“Fuck!”

His voice seemed to explode and resonate off every surface, the force of it travelled into her bones. Not just the ferocity of exclamation but the power held within.

The sound of his pure Irish accent slapped at her own Celtic roots like a cold, unwelcoming wind.

His anger was palpable, and he turned to the door.

Her own anger surged upwards, she felt it spurt right from the base of her body, hot and fierce, until it dragged at her throat.

“Now wait a damn minute!”

Literally hopping out of bed, temper killing any fear.

“Who the Hell are you?”

Demand had her trembling, ready to fight if she had to, but knowing deeply that she wouldn’t need to.

He still faced the door, letting the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as the pure Irish rolled out of her like the familiar churning of the Seas. Exhaling a harsh breath, he let the irony course through him; why he hadn’t known it before lit a fire of annoyance on top of the anger, which was fast turning into icy rage. He spoke, unnaturally calm.

“It’s what.”

He turned then, faced her.

“You mean, ‘what the Hell are you?’”

He let his eyes meet hers, allowed himself one quick glimpse into her. It was enough. He had to go.

Turning to the door, he paused,

“And who, in Christ’s name, are you?”

He said it almost to himself and was gone.

“Aurnia”

She let her voice meet thin air. The sound of the door slamming echoed through her mind. Feeling herself shake, she managed to dart forwards and yank the door open. Shit! It was cold.

Shoving her feet into her boots, she shrugged into her long coat as she swiftly stepped out into the empty corridor. She looked to her right and ran to the top of the stairwell, leaned over, straining for a glimpse of him as he descended. Impossible! He couldn’t run 9 storeys that quickly.

The building was almost derelict, few apartments on the first floor were in use, this was not a desirable part of Norwood, NYC. Other than the rooms along the top floor, which were used for the work she undertook, there was no one in the building. Floors and floors of empty, unusable rooms, no working elevator shafts and only one way in or out. She laughed nervously to herself without humour. It echoed a little.

Feeling suddenly tired, she moved back into her room and tried to switch her mind off the strange turn of events, off from him.

Setting about the task of meticulously cleaning her room, and herself, she let her thoughts stray towards home. She didn’t like to mix work and home, but somehow she needed the strength, so she let the image of her son form in her mind. Feeling a certain warmth flow through her veins, she allowed this image to settle her fear, to wrap her in golden bands of healing light.

Taking the envelope and sensing the thickness, she looked inside and couldn’t stop her jaw from dropping. There was at least ten times the amount she would usually charge. Taking a moment to quickly count, she was staggered to find $20,000.

Jamming the envelope into her pocket, she locked up and didn’t remember the long walk back.

Her home was beyond small, but it was home. It felt safe, and that was so important when you had a child to raise. She looked over to the corner where Cian slept; so sound, so precious, so vulnerable. Feelings of Love so sweet, so deep, flowed through and around her.

That One could feel this way for Another, never failed to delight her. She sighed at herself and crept over to drop a light kiss on the crown of his head, he was facing away from her, a plump, rosy cheek on show. Smelling his hair, she felt instantly calm.

Aurnia turned as she heard Bebe shuffle in from the small side room. She greeted her with a warm smile, Bebe looked so tired these days, with deep bags under her watchful, berry-like, eyes and every movement so obviously uncomfortable.

“Bebe, did I wake you? I’m sorry.”

Aurnia kept her voice low and was already preparing the makings of an herbal tea for Bebe.

“No, bairn. I haven’t been sleeping so well.” Bebe stifled a chesty cough and both women instinctively looked over to Cian, waiting to see if he would stir. He slept on.

Making her way to the corner chair, Bebe sat down slowly. Watching Aurnia making the tea, listening to the dying sounds of their fire, Bebe smiled despite her pain. This dear girl and her child were her family, although not by blood, their bond was stronger somehow.

Bebe also had the gift of Seeing, of Magics.

For a while she’d sensed something drawing closer, and not able to make it out, she couldn’t shake an uncomfortable trickle of uncertainty, sneaking its way through the layers of magic and light. Some things simply weren’t written yet, but She knew it was Meant.

She closed her eyes, aware that Aurnia placed her tea on the mantel for her. Bebe let herself drift in and out of dreams, images, visions, where pages turned and black symbols of magics unknown burned with light, tides rose to the skies and blue fire rained from the heavens. Death and corruption waged war with winged creatures of Peace, and amongst the chaos, two figures stood together; the power and force of their connection sent waves of light pulsing outwards to illuminate all which was evil. Bebe stirred in her sleep as she saw Aurnia’s face in one of these two, and the dark shadow in the eyes of the other.

Setting her own tea down on the rug, Aurnia sat down on the floor. Intending to meditate, cleanse and release, she found herself being drawn quickly, deeply into the glowing embers.

Feeling the familiar shift in her own energy, she had the urge to resist, a sudden need to stay. Sensing she would be going away from everything she knew, everything safe, and yet, somehow she deeply knew that she must surrender.

Travelling through the Eye of her Mind, into the Astral planes, feeling herself dissolve and reform, again and again, surrounded by a bright darkness pulling her in. Where Black symbols of Old Magics burned with Light, flowing around her, through her. Pages turned and fluttered where, in her hands, a Black Book of pulsing power formed.

Looking up she found herself staring into his eyes.

Not surprised to see him here, the bolt of connection between them was fiercer still. He showed her quickly, in a succession of images, who he was; feeding on the living to survive, travelling through time, space, a seeker of The Truth, he fought shadows with black magics and light, here; just a man, cursed by the Lamia as The Morrigan tumbled from the skies, and here; a small boy charming the pretty Irish seas and receiving a treasure to watch over.

The Seeker, the Keeper, the Traveller of Time.

He held out his hand. Her fear warred with Fate.

All that she did not want to pull away from, lay just out of reach, on the other side of her mind. Breathing in time with the rhythmic pulsing of Magic around them, palms touched. She met his hand.

Darkness fell into blinding Light, sound reared up and dissolved as they shattered all illusions and disappeared into the vastness of Time. Black symbols of Light flowed from here to eternity and nothingness was left in their wake.

Bebe stirred in her sleep, she Saw the seed of the New spark to life in the empty shell of the Old.