Darkness Calling Ch. 01bymadam_noe©
This story is a novella originally and will appear in chapters updated every 2-3 days. Votes and comments are welcome!
"This steak is undercooked, send it back," Rhiannon Nightstar said in a haughty tone. Selene Rainn thought for the thousandth time about turning the other woman into a toad, though for a level one witch that was an impossible dream. All Selene could do magically was heal a stomach ache or a papercut.
"Right away," was all she said though she didn't pretend to be happy. Rhiannon and her party were the only students allowed into the campus restaurant reserved for faculty and guests, and only because Rhiannon's family had a library and a lab named after them.
"The bitch sent it back," Selene huffed to her best friend Marcus, working the kitchen that night.
He gave her a wicked grin and took the steak from her. "I'll give it my 'special treatment.' Have no fear."
Selene tied her black hair back out of her eyes and watched him drop the steak onto the floor with a goofy "oops," pick it up and drop it onto the other side. He then slid it onto a pan and stuck it back into the oven.
"Bitch-face ordered it rare anyways. How'd you get stuck with her table, Lene?"
"Mary Beth felt sick so she went home."
"Ah, guess her boyfriend is in town," Marcus replied dumping dish soap into the steak sauce. "Hang on a moment."
Selene watched him wave his left hand over the sauce and with the murmur of a few words he'd cast a spell to make Rhiannon queasy. Selene shook her head. "You shouldn't do that, Marcus. She can tell."
He pulled the steak out and coughed on it. "She doesn't think anyone here would help you and you're a level one light witch, incapable of a spell that harms. She won't check, and besides she's been making your life a living hell for three years. Screw her."
"You're the only guy on campus who'd say that," Selene smiled as she took the plate. "And only because you like men more than she does."
She delivered the plate quickly and stepped back before anything else could be said, not having the heart to see the dark witch eat the awful steak. They were the last table of the night and Selene's station was organized. She wanted to head home quickly, she had two hours of data entry to do for Professor Whitebloom and she wanted to study for her last midterm.
Bored she slumped on a stool in the stockroom and closed her eyes, willing a meditative trance. The presence was waiting for her. She wasn't sure how she did it, but she touched his mind. She had no idea who he was but she knew his thoughts. The hunger, the aching loneliness in him that equaled hers, the dark, hot thoughts that called to her.
She caught his mind in the middle of a fantasy that stole her breath. In his mind he saw a woman, a small redhead, naked, her hands bound behind her back, her eyes blindfolded. She knelt before him, quivering in anticipation, not knowing what to expect. He stroked his cock, long and hard, until a drop of precum slipped onto his fingertips.
Selene for a moment felt as if she were him, was in his body, and understood the way a man felt. She moaned as he took the precum and with his thumb stroked it across the redhead's pouty mouth. The woman shivered, parting her lips with a moan, and he slipped his cock in. Her mouth was hot, moist, her lips firm, and she sucked him in deeply, swirling her tongue against the bulbous head. The man groaned and the vision in Selene's mind changed. The woman knelt over him on a bed, and her mouth was clever and fast working over his cock. She wasn't bound and Selene knew she had seen a private fantasy, now she was linked to his conscious mind.
She cupped his balls and the pleasure grew, trapping Selene in the man's mind. He built, his hands fisting in the sheets, and though his pleasure could have been sharper, swifter, it built sweetly and he exploded. The woman swallowed the cum with little moans, licking him as the orgasm washed over him.
When it was done the man felt cold and instantly wanted to push the woman away. Selene felt hot and feverish, having experienced his pleasure her body wanted its own. She slipped a slim hand inside her blouse to feel her breast, heavy and full, and plucked her nipple with her thumb.
She knew the instant the man felt her inside his mind. He jerked away from the redhead and began to cast a spell to find Selene.
Who are you? Wait! He cried as she severed the connection, panting. Still aroused she went to the washroom and splashed cold water on her face and tried to collect herself. Her reflection always seemed different after the connections. Her silver eyes were still wide, but brighter as if she had been the one to cast a powerful spell. Her black hair was windblown, framing her long face. Her lips looked fuller, deeper as if she'd been kissed.
Her thoughts changed then to the words Rhiannon had spoken three years ago, words that haunted her still. "Pathetic little witch, colored dark, aligned to light, unable to bespell even a bee. Worthless, how did she get in here of all places?" All the pleasure bled out of her then, turning only into a need to run and hide. Still, she felt the shadow man in her mind, waiting, and the erotic promise whispered across her skin.
"Marcus?" Selene said coming out of the washroom.
"Can you take this check out to them? I think I need to go home."
He came around from the fryer he'd been cleaning. "Anything wrong?"
"No, I just have a headache."
He smoothed her long hair back where it had fallen from her ponytail. "Did you have one of those visions again?"
"No," she lied. "I just need to study for tomorrow, okay?"
"All right. Want me to sneak you into the Nightraven lecture tomorrow?"
Level ones were excluded from many activities, including a lecture by Soren Nightraven, head councilor to Montgomery Blackhawk, the most powerful witch both in magic and politics. Selene had been dying to attend the lecture, even banned as she was, because she had limited opportunity to network and she too wanted a position as a political advisor to the Council On Magic after graduation.
Professor Whitebloom had even invited her but Rhiannon had led her clique in the fight to keep levels ones and twos out for "purity concerns."
"No, thanks though. Someone's got to be here setting up for the crush afterwards."
"Alright Lene. Call me tomorrow though, let me know how the midterm went."
She kissed him on the cheek and promised before heading out.
The night was bright, the moon full, and Selene found herself looking up at her namesake. She wished, for the thousandth time, that she felt an affinity for it, that she held allegiance to the more powerful dark side of magic, but she was light. Despite her cold coloring she was a sunshine witch, a witch of herbs and healing spells, a witch of no consequence magically.
"It's a bit late for daydreaming," a familiar voice said behind her.
Selene turned and found Professor Sigrid Whitebloom behind her, smiling. Selene easily returned the smile at one of the few women taller than she was as the blonde stepped into the moonlight.
"I was just wondering," Selene admitted.
"About your name. I know. You know you have two options. You can either change the name the orphanage gave you to one more suited to a white witch, dye your hair, and wear colored contacts, or you could change allegiance, the way I did."
The younger witch shook her head. "You're a level nine, powerful enough to switch back and forth every day if you want. I'm a level one; my strength lies not in my power but in my knowledge."
"And to that end I commend you. In many ways, Selene, you're stronger than I am. My brother is going to be in town so I'm glad I caught you. No more work until classes resume in two weeks, all right?"
"But professor I'm not leaving town, I can work."
"Paid vacation, so take some time off, relax. I know the restaurant will be closed after tomorrow so why don't you think about taking some time for yourself?"
"I don't know. Vacations are kind of a foreign concept for me."
Whitebloom smiled. "Jonathon and I would love to have you come to the city for the Samhain party. It's going to be a mix of all levels of witches, old friends, so you'll fit right in. You could stay the week with me if you like, I'd love to tour the botanic gardens with someone of your expertise."
Selene bit her lip. "I don't know."
"I have to get going, my brother should be appearing soon. Just promise me you'll think about it."
Selene bit her lip. "I will," she lied. With no car and no train access that meant flying and Selene would sooner die than trap herself in a flying tin can with re-circulated air.
"Toodles!" Whitebloom called and disappeared into a green mist.
Sighing Selene trudged back to her apartment secretly glad there was no work that night. She grabbed her mail, took off her coat inside, and uncorked a bottle of wine. Filling a glass she opened her textbook and prepared for a sleepless night.
The room was dark, knit together of shadows. She'd seen the trick dozens of times, conjured by powerful dark witches. The people before her were almost neon in the brightness against the shadows. They were familiar in a way they had been in the first dream, still familiar in their thousandth appearance in Selene's sleep.
The woman was tall and painfully slim, her silver eyes tired, her red hair loose, flowing down to her waist. The man was tall, slim as well but broad of frame. His hair was inky black and long, his Van Dyke in need of a trim. Against the darkness his blue eyes were bright, his power strong.
Mother and Father were all she knew of their names. She cried out to warn them and her mother cast a spell, shutting Selene in the closet. She screamed and screamed but her parents didn't see the man of shadows until it was too late. He came and left in a flash, his magic far stronger than her parents'. They were dead.
She began to scream, a deep scream of the soul and the dream shifted. She was outside, in the woods, and frozen under the moon in fear as the shadows knit together. Another dark witch, but this power had a light flavor to it, familiar.
"Silence!" She heard as his arms wrapped around her. The spell worked and Selene's voice was gone. Looking down at his shadows she saw her skin glowing. Not the pure white of a full white witch but the muddied glow of a half-breed.
"Why can't I see you?" He asked, and her voice was returned.
"Probably for the same reason I can't see you. I'm not powerful."
He laughed at that, the stranger, and his laugh was rich and deep, winding about her body like a teasing caress. "I can block level tens from my mind and I cannot keep you out. Ten years now, ten years of hearing you, feeling you, but never seeing you. I've finally had enough and you will tell me who you are."
Embarrassment crept over her. She was a witch without a family name, no heraldry tattooed on her shoulder, no history to follow. She would never find a soul mate amongst the witches, she was destined to live alone, apart. This man tasted of great power, tasted like a man of great consequence.
"Tell me your name," he said, so close she felt his breath on her lips.
"No," she whispered back.
He chuckled. "I call you Luna when I think of you; you shine like the moon." She gasped and then felt the press of his mouth. In ten years of dreams and thoughts shared and stolen she had never imagined this. She had seen his fantasies, sifted through his memories, seen his numerous conquests, but never had she truly imagined herself as one.
His lips were soft and firm, his hands large and smooth against her skin. She felt feverish, hungry as she'd never been before, and the meager spell of protection that obscured her features and made her shine began to falter.
"No!" She tore away from him and opened her eyes to her bedroom and a flash of lightning.
Kicking the sheets off she knew it truly would be a sleepless night, and judging from the heat she felt, a frustrating one. Licking her lips she tasted him, and he tasted like cinnamon. A shiver drew over her and she found herself wondering, for the hundredth time, if the connection meant anything, if there was a fate for her other than loneliness.
"Fuck," she swore and reached for her textbook.