In Darkness Dwells

Chapter1
My beginnings are as humble as anyones. Mother’s name for me was Gabriel. I was called by other names that even now, which even now I cannot remember. I was mother’s first child, her angel of mercy and beauty, her savior.
Mother was beautiful, the very definition of it. She was youthful old-souled woman, despite her age of 38. With long graceful black hair, which was always hidden behind a scarf of crimson and brown. In our culture a woman who is no longer a virgin must cover her hair with a shawl, and it was only in the privacy of our home would she let her hair down. She had eyes so green they could humiliate any emerald and cause the greenest leaf of summer to shudder and fall from its perch.
Unlike Mother, my eyes are deep cerulean pools that absorb the world. As a child, I envied for my mother’s jade eyes or my sister’s coca eyes; but Mother told me that my eyes were that of ice and of oceans, of tears and silent summer skies. That I should love my eyes and that those around me were envious of them.
My age when I was changed was twenty three, my features remained untouched by disease except for a scar on my upper lip from a child hood accident, which split my top lip to the side. My hair, when it wasn’t a mess was wavy, dark brown and shoulder length, like my fathers or so I had been told.
All in our vast family favored Mother, not just for her beauty but for her heart as well. She had been our storyteller, our inspiration for our songs and poems. We did not tell stories or cast spells for the Devil and nor did we have evil pacts made with him. We dance and celebrated the united family, the bond between the earth and Her gifts.
My father was not as fortunate to have our family on his side. He had been a wealthy man from a Royal fleet who fell in love with Mother only for her beauty. He had had long russet colored hair that fell to his shoulders in dark curls and dark blue eyes that seemed to be able to look right through you. He left the day I was born telling my mother he had no interest in raising a child. He paid Mother as if she had been a whore he had stayed the night with. After that day, Mother never took another man to her bed. She fell into a sort of daze after he left. Her eyes lost their fire, her smile lost its meaning.
Mother continued to care for me until I turned sixteen. She was killed by men who had accused her of witchcraft and the killing of a young girl; a girl who was later found hiding in her attic. I became cold and angry with everyone who would come near me, even turning on my sister. I began to drink heavily and come stumbling into the camp; shouting hysterics and curses then passing out on a neighbor’s in the early mornings. doorstep. My family soon tired of my fits and abandoned me; leaving me to fend for my self, telling me that they no longer could take care of, even turning my sister against me.
So I went out and grew up. Working with fur traders and black smiths I spent most of my adolescent years silent, doing jobs that I could find in odd places. As I worked, I saved until I was able to find a one room house on the outskirts of the town.
The year of which my tale begins was a time that history forgot. It was a time of civil wars and blood shed not only in the Americas but in Europe as well. It was a bitterly cold night for early fall in England. The English countryside has some of the worst weather around. It was wet and moldy and there was a chill in the air that had a lingering effect on a person’s soul. The full moon was high in the charcoal black sky, gray clouds quietly floated by. It was about ten o’clock that evening; and I could be located down at the local pub called McCallans.
McCallan’s was a hole in the wall establishment , nothing close to elegant but it was a place for men like me. Men to whom all life could bring them, was a drink and a game of chance. Men who had nothing to look forward to, who were content with the hand that fate had dealt them. The cramped space inside was always swollen with locals and travelers. The wooden floor, which after many years of shoes being worn along it, had been polish smooth. The windows were smudged brown with the constant smog of the candles and pipes. The only real time the pub was ever clean was after a long rain; the water would leave a deep sent of dew on the wood as the pub had a chance to breathe.
Peter, who was the founder and owner at the time was a cheerful man; who always had a kind heart and unusual way of talking. He had come here from Ireland with his pub and spirited ways. A round man he was, with a hearty laugh, kind face and always had a pocket full of money. Yet he was not always known for his inexpensive drinks and tales of the news. What he was best known for was his daughter Rebecca Ann.
Rebecca. She was a fair and new beauty to this world of drunkards and cheap, lonely salesmen. She had curls of deep auburn hair that fell to her shoulder in a cascade of soft waves, her skin being the color of unsullied milk. Her eyes were as deep brown as melted chocolate, her mouth like a cloud. Her mother had been a French woman, who had once come to this town to start a new life away from her turmoil’s in France. She left her father after her pregnancy was exposed. That was something we both have in common, both our mothers left one by shame and the other by death.
The woman of the town talked in hushed voices. Their whispers spread like wildfire when Rebecca came of age, her beauty shining above all others. Rebecca’s mother had been a harlot, working the streets of Paris, bedding with any man who could pay her fee. Rebecca didn’t care what the other women said about her and she shrugged them off with a smile. She knew they were jealous of her, she could see it in their polite greetings, and the smirks they shared with each other behind lace fans in church. She had been the object of my secret affection since my age of seventeen.
Every man and boy wanted this woman but none could have her, except for Terrance Andrew Jacobs. Terrance was the first son of the wealthiest man in town. Edward Johnson Jacobs had been married more than any one could count while having four sons from four different wives over the years. In his younger days, Edward was quite a romancer with the young ladies and no one would tell him otherwise. Everyone knew he favored Terrance seeing that he shared his lust for the young women of the town.
When his father died, Terrance held a funeral of mass embellishment in the town church, Terrance and his brothers sparing no expense. A four horse drawn black stage wagon held his fathers coffin. The coffin had been made out of the finest deep red mahogany and gold. Each brother walked solemnly behind the wagon, dressed in fine black tailored suites and large black top hats, their faces calm and stern their eyes fixed on their fathers coffin.
The wagon percussion sauntered to the end of the town to the graveyard, were Edward was to be buried under an immense weeping angel. The ample face of the angel was laden with sorrow, eyes soft with caring affection . I attended the funeral, as did every other inhabitant of the town. I stood in the back of the mob of false grievers my eyes glued on the face of the stone cherub above the coffin, transfixed by its beauty and heartache.
After the death of his father, Terrance became a very wealthy man, as did his brothers. Among his three other brothers, he was the child who was given extensive property all through out the county with the finest houses built on them. While his brothers inherited shares of their fathers company’s in London and small plots of there own land. Whenever Terrance would choose to build a home of magnificence, it was the talk of the town and he loved the attention and women the houses brought him.
It wasn't only the money that attracted the women but his appearance He had strong overly masculine features of his face and his built yet slender body stood at a good height of six feet three. He was long limbed and his light hair and fair brown eyes were the main attractions the women of this town. He stood out in any crowd and even amongst his brothers Terrance was the superior of the three. Even though Terrance could have any type of woman he wanted from any race, color, background, he chose Rebecca. Rebecca took to his invitation and relished it.
Being an outcast, I soon drew way from that life and became a shadow. All of things I felt were so important to me changed one, full moon evening. An evening I would never forget.
The pub was full that night ; packed to the rafters with travelers and locals. There was news about some foreigners who had crossed the edge of the woods last night. Some say they were gypsies traveling from the heart of the dark countries from Eastern Europe, others say they were bringers of the forbidden arts, coming to corrupt their minds and children. They were the messengers of the devil, Satan himself some even dared to whisper.
Those were my people. People, who lived by the rules of the roads, slept under the stars and played the music of their fathers before them. It was a family from all over; whose roots were not planted in just one country or kingdom. Our large cloth covered caravans with large traveling wheels, its people dressed in robes and rags of every color one can imagine.
Those days now are gone. I was sitting in my usual spot in McCallen. A quiet shaded spot by the window. The thick wood table was smooth from the many years of use. In front of me stood a pint of ale and a slice of bread. Not a meal fit for a king but it would sustain me till the morning; and I was used to less. I was talking with one of the local horsemen when a voice came clear over the moans and groans of the Pub.
“Which one of you gentlemen has seen my father? Is he here?” Said the soft voice.
There stood Rebecca, wearing a gray and black dress embroidered with heavy purple thread. Her thick curly brown hair was lightly pulled up off her slender neck and around her neck was a silver cross and chain. Her coat was a thick brown material that hung around her ankles and swayed as she walked.
“Aye, I think he went out back, let m’ escort you m’ lass,” said a thick voiced a drunk next to her. “ I am sure he did ‘ot go far, ” His voice slurred with ale.
“No thank you” said Rebecca turning on a heel and left. As she left, there were hoots and whistles and the childlike manner you would find in the jailor cell.
No woman should walk the night alone, never the less Rebecca. There were too many men out at this time of night fuelled with drink to understand the moral of their actions. So being the gentleman I was, I paid the bar keep and went out into the night after her.
The chilly air cut through me with hard vengeance, I pulled my thin overcoat closer to my body. I looked up the road looking for Rebecca. She was not that far up the road when I caught sight of her. Suddenly, she stopped.
“Are you following me Gabriel?” She asked me coyly turning around to face me. All this time I thought she didn't know my name but I am common enough to the pub, the drinks and her father, so I didn't take to mind. I could make out her soft features from were I was standing. Her eyes were gentle in the light of the moon; her lips were curled in a light smile. A few stray strand of her hair blew in the night air across her face, dancing over her lips.
“Just to make sure you get home safely.” I replied slowly. I hadn’t meant for her to find me sneaking after her and embarrassment rose into my cheeks. She answered me with a smile, a nod and kept walking. Soon I was walking next to her, enjoying her presence and company.
“You are the son of a gypsy, am I right Gabriel?” She asked me quietly.
I stopped as if I had been struck in the face. Why was she asking me this? I never told anyone about my past family history. I feared not only their reaction but also the actions they would bestow on me if they knew. She turned to face me. Her face was calm and waiting for my answer.
“ Yes, I am. Mother was a gypsy but my Father was in the British Royal fleet.” I added the last bit about my father on emphasis. “Why do you ask me this?”
“It must be wonderful to have such a large family and the stories, oh, the stories they must have.” Rebecca’s voice was almost a girlish squeal of delight.. “ You must know tons of stories, don’t you Gabriel?” I looked at her smiling face.
“ Well I was young when Mother use to tell me stories of the places she had visited in her youth. I have forgotten most of them now”
“ Oh” Rebecca said in a low voice her smile evaporated. “ Have you seen your mother Gabriel? I have never heard you talk much of her or see her in your company.”
“ Mother is dead,” I said plainly as I could make it “ She was hung as a witch”
“ Oh my,” she gasped, “I am sorry. My mother is gone as well.” Her voice was soft but held an undertone of bitterness. She took a deep shaky breath and let it our slowly and looked up at me with a clear face and then looked back at the road. “ I heard the men in the pub talking about a Gypsy caravan that had pulled into Sadier Grove last night,” As she talked she kept her head down and her eyes fixed on the ground. “ Do you think they might be your family, or what’s left of your family that is?”
I stayed quiet. I didn't know what to say to her. I didn’t know if the visitors were my family and even if they were it would not have mattered to me any way. They left me four years ago. I didn’t need them then; I don't need them now. However, her words had lightly stirred strong emotions inside and they were beginning to ascend. I did not want to be upset with Rebecca; she was ignorant to my problems, but I could not help it.
“ Rebecca, you know nothing of me or my past. I am just a familiar face to you and yours.” I tried to keep my voice calm and hidden of all emotion. “If anyone needs to know I am no longer my family’s child I am solely my mothers child and now that she is gone I am an orphan.” My voice was now hard with anger and Rebecca’s face had a look of distressing understanding.
“Have I said something Gabriel? I am sorry. My mother was a harlot with a pretty face. I understand anger and loss. I promised myself never to let a man take advantage of me like my mother had. She gave herself to men for money! I thought money was not everything but sadly and surprisingly, I am beginning to see otherwise. Terrance has money and he makes me happy; he does not own me or pay me for my love.”
“ Whatever makes you happy Rebecca, what ever makes you happy”. I heard my own voice in my ears then. It was sarcastic and the sting of jealousy rested in every word. I looked at her out of the corner of my eye, straining to see her face. Her face was blank but hurt was raw in her eyes. I wanted to tell her I was sorry, to hold her and say I was sorry for my words; that I could give her the world with out the money Terrance was giving her.
After our brief war of words, Rebecca and I walked home without saying a word to each other. I was too involved in my own thoughts to talk. We reached her gate in silence. Her house was quite large with red and black shingles on the roof. The wooden outside walls were lined with a white plaster shone in the night’s light revealing a sign over the door and window. The windows were small and spaced out randomly around the house. The walk to her doorstep from the road was lined with red, yellow and purple flowers, drained of their color in the light of the moon. A distant drip of the well off to the side of the house and the bleat of sheep could be heard softly. Rebecca stopped in front of her wooden gate, her hand resting on the edge of the handle
“ Good night, Gabriel” her voice was calm and a smile curled at her lips. I looked at her, her eyes tired but her smile was sincere. The wind had blown her hair into a graceful mess around her shoulders. I opened my mouth, to say goodnight to her then closed it. I nodded to her as courteously as I could, giving her a small smile. Her smile left her face and she turned to gate and left me standing in the road.
I walked along the dirt road stewing in thoughts, hope and despair. What if my family had come back? Clinging to the lost memories of them was all I had. A mature golden moon was high in the sky as I passed Sadier Grove. The very faint sounds of violins and men’s rapid chattered drifted out onto the road. I felt my stomach lurch, a lurch of homesickness. The trees eclipsed the moon casting an eerie shadow on the thick black undergrowth. As I walked by a clearing in the wood a whisper caught my ear.
“You look lost,” said the voice. The voice sounded feminine and soothing like water flowing over smooth rocks. It was unlike any voice I had ever heard.
“ I am not. Thank you,” I replied to the darkness of the trees. Suddenly, a shape stepped out into the moons light. It was a female, slender and around six-feet in height. She had on a long flowing dress with many layers that twirled around her ankles as she walked. Her bodice was black and white with old lace that reached to her breast in a foaming line. A white and red shawl with tassels covered her arms and plump cleavage. She wore a white kerchief on her head and behind it I could see that her hair was white, and almost glowed with a silvery tint in the moons light. Her face was mildly aged, a woman around the age of forty; eyes like iridescent pale pools, an enticing smile smeared over her lips.
“ Oh my child,” she called to me in a supple voice “ But you are lost” she walked closer to me. "Come, let me show you the road back to your home" I looked at her confused and she smiled " You are of Traveler blood, we can always recognize our own" Traveler blood was another word for Gypsy. Offended by her accusation being right that it was, still offended me.
" I am sorry Ma'am but you are mistaken. I am from English blood and non-the bluer blood than mine" The woman cocked her head her eyes disappointed, for she had read my lie in my words. Tilting her gaze sky ward her face was bathed in the luminous white light of the moon. She was attractive for a woman her age; the shadow of her youth still clung to her features, rounded yet high cheekbones, slender nose and ample lips. Yes she had been beautiful before Time had taken her as a bride.
“It is not safe to walk the night alone especially under a full moon” her eyes glistened in the night’s light. “ Though she is beautiful isn’t she.” The woman turned fully then to the moon, her gaze fixed on its silky pearl face “ So bright, so caring in her silver embrace. Always shinening down, always changing, always casting those under her spell.”
Something was not right about this woman. Her movements were more animal-like than human and with each step she glided with liquid gracefulness. She walked closer until she looked me right in my face. The light sweet breath from her mouth traced my chin and cheek. I wanted to move; I had tried but my legs would not budge from their posts.
“ M-Madam I have to go” I stuttered. I raised my hands and placed them firmly on the woman’s forearms and pushed lightly. She did not move back as much as she advanced forward until she was pressed along the line of my body. Her hand rose out of my grasp and cupped my cheek, caressing the flesh and my ear. She did something then I would have never expected. She kissed me.
The moment her mouth touched mine I felt a surge of every emotion pulling at me: sadness, happiness, jealousy, passion, joy, pain, and anger. They all seemed to intensify with this kiss. Harder and harder she kissed me; not wanting me to breathe or move. I could feel the sticky slick of blood on my chin and the copper taste of it on my tongue. Her tongue was deep in my mouth writhing and rippling pushing blood down my throat into my stomach. The pain of her canines dug into my lips and into the meat of my gums. A distant howl cut through the night like a soft ring of a church bell.
It was then my heart seemed to stop and break all at the same time. The pain was so intense that I wanted to scream out but she still held me to her mouth. Long green colored fingernails pressed into my soft face, pressing into my cheekbones with a soft pressure. My limbs went numb and my eyes clouded. Feelings and new emotions were being poured into me, overflowing me. Just then, at the moment, I thought my very soul was on the brink of defeat; a presence took over my body. Suddenly all was quiet and she released me. I fell to the ground shaking and panting for air. She leaned over me and whispered something into my ear.
“ We all have demons inside of us waiting to be released. You will soon know the name of yours.” And with that, she turned and left me lying in the road. The last I saw of her was her dress that disappeared into the woods.
Four pairs of yellow eyes stared at me through the bushes, aglow with compassion and understanding. A snout came forth out of the leaves, head low and eyes on my face. It was a wolf that slowly crept toward me with soft whimpers. It crawled over to my face, its fetid breath on my cheek; a pink tongue softly licked my chin and forehead. The animal looked up and back toward the trees as if being called. It looked down at me one last time and bounded off back into the dense and twisted forest. That was the beginning of my life as I live it today.
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