Dark Possession

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.