Into the darkness



  INTO THE DARKNESS…

  When evil is all around,

  can good still survive?

  ©Wendy Maddocks 2003

  Into The Darkness

  Copyright Wendy Maddocks 2003

  Other works by Wendy Maddocks

  Stand alone novels

  Twisted evil

  Into the darkness

  Short story collections

  The thrill of the Chase

  A Shade too young

  The Shades of Northwood series

  Running shoes

  Circle of arms

  Unfinished business

  Kiss at midnight

  Circle of the Fallen series

  Angels of America

  Poetry collections

  When I was young

  Before the dawn

  Screenplays

  RISK

  Non-fiction

  Student: dazed and confused

  PROLOGUE

  The girl was running – or rather limping – through the woods, painfully aware of what was following her. As she glanced behind her to see how much distance was left between them – not much, not enough – she tripped over a fallen branch but instantly picked herself up, ignoring the sting of a badly cut knee as she pressed on. Her pursuers were gaining ground, silently closing in; they looked like ordinary people who were dressed entirely in black, but their eyes seemed hollow. It didn’t matter how fast she ran or how hard she tried to hold them back - they just kept coming for her. They would get what they wanted. It was obvious nothing would stop them in their quest but she had to keep trying. This was the first thing she had run from, and hopefully it would be the last. The feeling of helplessness and guilt was both overwhelming and unshakable.

  A feeling she had never noticed before – fear – pushed her onwards, kept her going when her energy was low. Rushes of adrenaline kept her heart and legs pumping when they were about to give out. There was a tiny clearing of trees in the middle distance and she sped towards it, working on energy back-up. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps as she struggled to keep her lungs full. But the further she ran, the farther away the clearing seemed to be.

  She was tired.

  Tired of running away from something that would get her in the end; tired of fighting fights that didn’t really matter – even if she did emerge the victor. There would always come a fight she couldn’t win -and now maybe she had found it. She had been trying to evade them for three days straight. And now, they had truly caught her, after chasing her for so long.

  A bolt from a Taser brought the girl to her knees, but she didn’t stop moving for a second. She still tried to get away by shuffling on all fours, though there was no point to it. They had her now; she could see their cold, impassive eyes as she lay on her back taking the punishment they so coolly delivered. She fought back against unconsciousness as at least 10,000 volts of electricity surged through her body. Another fight she wouldn’t win.

  But she wasn’t ready to give in. Not yet.

  ********

  Amber-Louise awoke with a start, idly looking at the broken watch still strapped to her wrist. It had long since stopped working, but while this was simply a mild annoyance for most people, it was a reminder that time had stopped for her. It was strange to think that the world was still going without her. Even stranger to think that people were still living their lives without her.

  Rekuctantly clawing her way out of the comfortable embrace of sleep, Amber-Louise climbed out of bed and splashed some water on her face in the small bathroom. She then dressed in the clothes that had been draped over the chairs, unwilling to think about her dream. She didn’t want, or even need, to recall it – it was a recurring nightmare. The same one she had had every night for nearly four months. The nightmare often went on for much longer, but she had never felt the pain tapping through her conscious mind before. It troubled her to be replaying the same series of events every night in her head, but she knew that the nightmares wouldn’t stop until the waking one was over.

  Other people would wonder what she had seen or done to give her these constant nightmares. Other people would ask why she had been captured and hidden here. But Amber-Louise Tully wasn’t other people.

  Amber-Louise Tully was a witch.

  Over her years, she had learnt that it was never wise to ask questions. Well, she had been taught it but she had never learnt it. She had always asked questions, but had soon learnt that there often weren’t any answers. In this situation, however, she hadn’t asked any questions in case she got the answers. Everything she needed to know had been told to her, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know even that much. She knew she was facing an impossible task – quite a few of them actually, but Amber had never been the kind of girl who’d give up without a fight.

  A white witch, she used her powers for good. To protect the innocent, she thought. That’s, like, my mission statement. A powerful warlock, called Liatruz, had come to town. He was very practised in dark magicks but, more than anything, he had pure evil intent. That in itself was very rare and Amber-Louise was very glad of that fact. Liatruz didn’t want anyone to quash his plans, and as a member of the Sisterhood, she was the only one who stood even a chance of doing that. Naturally, the warlock had to take preventative measures to stop that and had wound up with two options. The first was to kill her but he hadn’t gone for that one – probably ‘coos it’d be over too quick – but the second one which was to incarcerate her in a place where her magick would be no good.

  A sound at the thick, metal door made her turn on her heel. It didn’t open – it never opened except to give her clean clothes once a week – but a light breakfast of cereals, yoghurt and juice was pushed through the tiny hatch. She stared at it for a moment, not really wanting to eat it, and wondered if they had put poison in it. Why am I thinking that? Then she began to pull the paper lid off the yoghurt spoon and dug her plastic spoon in. Yoghurt had been her favourite food in years past, but now she could barely stand the sight of it.

  As she sat there on the floor, she began thinking thoughts she hated. Thoughts about her experiences here in this magick-proof cell; thoughts about everything she had experienced before this had happened; memories of the people she had been forced to leave behind. Thoughts that made her hurt. Made her sad. Made her angry.

  Her Taser-induced coma had lasted a full 10 weeks, and by her count she had been here for around six months. There was no way to regain that lost half year as time spells only stretched to a week at best but she promised herself she would make up for it when she got out. When, not if. She would get out (somehow) and she would do all the things she should’ve done before. It’s funny how something like this puts things in perspective. An intense workout every morning had kept her focused. At first, it had stopped her from going stir crazy – it was good to have a bit of routine – but now she did it for a reason.

  The cell was painted white. It reminded her of a hospital, which wasn’t a pleasant thought as she hated hospitals. Evil places. People went in and sometimes never came back out. That rang true on so many levels. No matter how comfortable Liatruz’ minions had tried to make it, with plastic tables and padded chairs; it still felt like some kind of prison. It seemed like a sick joke that they could make this place seem so un-evil and still be so mean and unfeeling. The shell was made of sheet steel which zinged when it was hit, or when Amber threw her cereal bowl against it. Not that she did that much anymore – just when her frustration level sky-rocketed. The steel compound was encased, which was virtually impossible to penetrate, and then the whole thing had been enchanted to ensure that her white magick would be of ab
solutely no use. Amber-Louise had tried every trick in the book in her first few attempts to escape, but had quickly found out that it was no good.

  So she stopped.

  But by no means had she forgotten.

  Her thoughts drifted to the things she had done and learnt before she was brought here. Some of these flashed through her head so fast that she barely even registered them. She had always known she was a witch, always known that she had to use that power for good; ever since she was a child, though she sometimes felt like little more than that now. She had, over the last few years, used her magick to wipe out the lurking evil in her town. She had brought down a few cults of wannabe Goths; fought and destroyed a couple of demons, even stopped a ritual sacrifice last year; just general nastiness. That responsibility – to protect innocent people – had always been a big part of her, and she would do it until it killed her. Yet, it was more than just a responsibility or a duty it was… well, something she wanted to do. The witch wasn’t prepared to let Liatruz stop her from doing that. Amber-Louise had learned that she was a member of the Sisterhood just a couple of weeks before the warlock had come to town and kidnapped her. Unlike others, she had not tried to deny her calling. It was a big thing – trying to save everyone and stay alive at the same time.

  The only person that knew she was a witch was her lifelong best friend, Alex. Leaning back in her chair, she called up a mental image of his face; those hazel, puppy-dog eyes, his untidy blond hair and the tiny gold bar she had watched being shot through his eyebrow last birthday. He was always ready to listen when she wanted to moan about the stresses and strains of being a witch. He always helped her out when she was on a mission. They were only a few of the reasons they hadn’t fallen out, but she tried to shield him from the worst parts of her job.

  Then there was her dad, her only immediate family. He loved her – there was no doubting that fact – but he didn’t have any idea what was going on in his daughters’ life. Of course, not wondering why she seemed to need so many new clothes or wanting to know why she came in and went out at all hours made her job that much easier. He didn’t seem all that concerned about what she did which was often a big help, but sometimes it hurt. She wondered if he had even noticed she was missing, questioned where she had gone, why she hadn’t even called. He probably thought she was staying with her Aunt Kathy.

  The door opened and three thug-like former people stood there, wielding the stun guns they wouldn’t hesitate to use on her. “Don’t try anything funny, kid,” one of them warned. “We’ll use ‘em if we gotta.” He held a pile of clothes in one thick hand and dropped them on the floor.

  Amber nodded slightly, concentrating all of her energy on a spell. She knew that it had less than no chance of working in the magick-proof cell, but she had to try every possibility. This would get her punished if they figured out what she was doing, so Amber-Louise put on one of her patented sulky, sullen faces to mask her magickal activity.

  “Oi! We been talking to you,” the second thug yelled at her. Amber-Louise bit back the urge to snap a reply. “We said don’t try nothing. You ignoring us?” When Amber didn’t respond, they turned and left. #1 sighed and blew out a plume of thick, grey cigar smoke before he shut the door and grinned. “Little parting gift.”

  When she was sure they had gone, the girl breathed a sigh of relief and closed her eyes. She was tired. Okay, so I’ve just had seven hours kip but using strong, new magic takes a lot of energy. She opened her eyes and stood up again, hoping against hope that the spell she had spent the last six weeks making had worked.

  Chapter 1

  The TV was on and the boy was slouched in front of it – but he wasn’t even paying any attention to it. Even if he had been, it probably wouldn’t have made much sense to him.

  Nothing made sense any more.

  His mind was on other things but it was comforting to have the saccharin-sweet soap opera on in the background. If only to remind himself that things had been normal once upon a time. But that seemed like an awful long time, and normal sometimes seemed distant memory. He found it alternately difficult to remember what normal was like, and to imagine life ever being like that again. Not that his life had ever really been ‘normal’. There had to be someone somewhere who could make it right again.

  “Life’s rarely as simple as we like to think,” the TV woman said. I hear ya.

  “Isn’t there some kind of handbook to tell us why bad things happen?” asked the daughter. The section in TV Guide said that she was protesting a by-road and had just seen part of a forest cut down. It wasn’t even close to what was happening to him, but he knew exactly what the actress meant. Lately, the boy had been wishing for a life manual. A lot of bad things had happened to him recently and, although he knew why, it was hard to understand and accept.

  His parents had gone missing a couple of months ago, as had his best friend six months ago. He hadn’t seen or heard from either of them since and was doubtful that he ever would. Of course, he was worried about them and where they were; only he didn’t need to angst over whether they alive or not. He knew exactly what had happened to his mother and father, though it wasn’t something anyone should have to think about or, indeed, go through. The boy even had a pretty good idea of what had happened to his friend – not a pleasant thought either. He knew that the people he loved were alive and well, but he didn’t know for how much longer that would be true.

  Also, would he ever see those people again? And if he did, would they ever be the same?

  There were too many thoughts spinning in his head, too many questions; most that he couldn’t answer, but some that he couldn’t even process yet. For example, there was the inexplicable and untimely death of his bulldog. Or, there was the fact that his driving instructor had turned into a gibbering wreck. Maybe I can put that one down to the fact that I’m a contender for Britain’s Worst Driver. But he suspected – no, more than suspect – that there was an altogether more sinister reason.

  All hell was breaking loose on the streets outside and he didn’t like it.

  It had to be stopped.

  Gina Ross was travelling around Britain with her boyfriend, Jake Wright. They had come to rest in the smallish town of Rawston and were planning to spend a few nights at the EeziRest Inn. After another of the frequent bush fires had sprung up in their homeland of Australia, claiming many hundreds of acres of grassland along with the lives of a few people who hadn’t evacuated when told, they had decided that it would be nice to go someplace safe for a holiday.

  There was a row of shops stretching down one side of the road, Half were well-established chains, and half were smaller, privately-owned shops. The couple had already found their favourite shop and had spent a few happy hours there this morning. The pokey little shop at the end of the street was called ‘Dusty Books’ which was quite an apt name really. It was old and musty-smelling, filled with soft leather chairs and yellowing, dusty tomes. Jake and Gina both usually had their heads in old literature; most often Shakespeare.

  “I’m really glad we came here, Jake.”

  “Mmm. Me too,” he murmured, trying to find a price tag on the book of sonnets he was holding. “It’s nice. I think I might buy this.” He was having trouble converting pounds to dollars and wasn’t sure if it was good value or not. Then he realised that he didn’t actually care – he wouldn’t have been able to find something like this back home.

  “I like it here. It’s a sweet little place. And all the people are so friendly and helpful.” She took a seat and curled up as she waited for him to make a decision. She loved Jake more than anything but his total inability to make a decision in less than five minutes could be infuriating at times. And I thought women were supposed to be bad at shopping. “Make your mind up already.” They were both in their early 30s and had learned to take everything with a pinch of salt, but Gina smiled anyway to let him know that she was joking. “Are
you gonna have that?”

  “Yeah, I suppose so,” he sighed. He had given up trying to work the money out and wandered round the other side of the shelf. “Go wait for me outside. You look like you could do with some fresh air.”

  When Gina had left, he pulled out a book of love poems she’d had her eye on and walked up to the counter with his selections. Having paid the elderly shopkeeper for his books, he put them in separate bags to make sure he didn’t get them mixed up. Before he turned away, Jake reached in his pocket and slid an expensive diamond necklace down the spine of his second choice.

  “That’s pretty,” the old man croaked. “For your girlfriend, is it?”

  “Yeah, I’m asking her to marry me tonight.”

  “Isn’t a ring more traditional?”

  “Yeah, but we don’t go for –“

  “I suppose you young uns don’t follow our old ways now. Well, I hope she says yes. Lord knows, we could do with some good news round these parts.” The old man looked slightly worried as he said that, as if he had given too much away, but nevertheless, he smiled and waved before turning to his next customer.

  Jake was a bit confused by what he said but he waved back politely and went back outside to meet Gina. He stepped out just in time to see the woman’s’ mouth being covered by a seemingly disembodied hand. Then she was gone – dragged away by the hand and whatever it was attached to.

  Liatruz probably knew that Amber-Louise had escaped by now, and if he didn’t, his armies certainly did. The three thick-set muscle-men – lunkheads – were out of action now. She had killed two of them with their own stun guns and had cracked the other ones skull open with a crowbar. She’d almost retched at the sight of all the blood but felt better when she reminded herself that it wasn’t her blood. He won’t be getting up for a while. The combat techniques that Ales had taught her a couple of years ago had come in very useful combined with the built up strength she’d developed. It had been hard work to push through the layers of steel, lead and enchantment but she had done it. And the fight was nowhere near over yet.