Chapter 8

Chapter 8 ~ Darkness

Duskara Kochina

~

Moscow Russia 

The harsh wind blew as my brother and I made our way to the office. The building itself looked like any of the others on the empty street;The only difference was that this house in particular was home. Aleksander, my brother, was a few steps ahead of me and opened the door. I slid through and we walked up the stairs to the office of the most feared mob boss in Moscow, Mikhail Stromkiev, our adopted father.

He looked up from his work and gave us a smile that was only for my brother and I. “Ah, my beautiful Banshee and my daring Reaper.”


 * “Anything new for us?” Aleksander asked.


 * “Yes...tonight, but you know the rules. Be safe and keep on the look out.” He sighed.

Mikhail enjoyed having us with him in the office, but we continued to persuade him to give us work and eventually he gave in. I became his scout, the Banshee, warning death, and Aleks does the killing, under the name of the Reaper.


 * “His name is Andrei Borchak, here is his schedule, Anya.” He continued, handing me a file, using another pet name that he so generously gave me.


 * “I’ll leave soon. Is that all we need?” I muttered.


 * “Andrei isn't a force to reckon with, get in, get out, and don't spend too much time.”

My brother and I looked to each other and nodded our agreement to his requests. With the work out of the way, the two of us took a seat on the couch by his desk for a quick rest as Mikhail went back to his paperwork. It didn't take long for me to fall asleep, with me using Aleks as a pillow, which has turned into a habit over the years. I woke to feel Mikhail gently shaking me awake.


 * “Wake up, my little one...it's time to go to work…” He said softly. Aleks was still sleeping and neither of us wanted to wake him.


 * “Alright, I’ll be back soon, an hour tops, I promise.” I patted his hand softly to reassure him before standing to grab my jacket to take my leave.

Using the schedule and address Mikhail gave me, I found myself at an old warehouse type building, completely empty and rundown. There was a cracked door on the side that I used to slip inside and was on the lookout for any sign of Andre. The goal was to be seen for a second then disappear. My eyesight and hearing have always been keen, but that could not prepare me for a figure sneaking up behind me who struck me on the back of my head, sending me into a world of darkness.

I groaned and rolled my head groggily, waking up to find myself locked in a chair, my wrists and ankles strapped down, preventing my escape. A broad figure stood in front of me, going through a small kit on a metal table.


 * “Ah the Banshee awakens. I didn't think you would, that was a nasty bruise you got. We’ll have to be quick, we lost a good amount of time and the Reaper will arrive before we know it. We can’t have him find you like this, now can we.” He said slyly.

Slowly and thoughtfully, he pulled out a long jagged knife. I stared at it and him cautiously, trying to hide my fear. He held it close under my chin, the tip just barely touching my skin.


 * “Stromkiev sent you after me, didn't he?” He asked, inching it closer.

I didn’t respond, just kept my chin held high to avoid the blade. This made Andrei chuckle deeply and he lowered the blade’s tip against my collarbone and broke the skin on both my left and right side. I gripped the armrests of the chair in a death grip and gritted my teeth so I wouldn't scream. This only drove him to continue; all up and down my arms, long, shallow cuts and short, deep ones. He even cut up my face, little cuts on my cheeks. Finally, tears started to stream down my cheeks, mixing in with the blood.


 * “Please...stop..” I begged softly. It was excruciating to breathe.

Fortunately, he stopped, but smiled a smile at me that would forever lurk in my nightmares. Using the tip of the blade, he brushed away my sweaty black hair from my eyes


 * “Because you said please.” He cooed.

Standing up, he went back over to the kit and pulled out a 9x18mm pistol and pointed it straight at my chest.


 * “I have a message for Mikhail Stromkiev I need you to deliver for me.” He pulled back on the slide on the pistol.

I couldn’t respond in any way. I was stunned in pure silence, staring at the gun in a pause that felt like forever. Then, he fired, straight into my heart. My eyes widened while a stream of blood ran out of the corner of my mouth. The pain was worse than anything I’ve ever felt before, worse than the torture. In such a short time, my world whirled like water down a drain into darkness once again.


 * “My black queen, beautifully bloodied.” A new voice whispered in my ear, warm against the cold Russian winds.

I struggled to open my eyes but I managed to see a figure in front of me through the shadows. His hat covered his eyes but some of his features did seem familia, as did his voice.


 * “Who are you?...” I muttered weakly.

“I’m going to save you.” He said softly, breaking the restraint on my right wrist and pulled out a piece of parchment from his jacket, flashing a dark purple stone around his neck ever so slightly.


 * “Why would you save me?...What does ‘Black Queen’ even mean?” I mumbled, sounding drunk.


 * “You need to rule. The other queen is already waiting for you, Duskara...and I owe a favor to a friend. Sign your rule, my black queen.”

He slid the paper onto my lap, resting it on my legs. I looked at it blankly, not sure what it was for or let alone how to sign. He stood up, straightened up and watched as my bloodied fingertips ran across the bottom of the paper, using all the strength I didn't know I had. My world began to be engulfed in shadows, everything turning to black, including the man and the stone which was now a soulless-black as well. The shadows weren't just it, the pain came back, maybe even worse.

Slowly, my consciousness started to come back but it still hurt too much to move and for the first time, I was too scared to move. I didn’t know where I was and why my body ached too badly. I struggled to open my eyes and found myself surrounded by trees and brush; I was in a small clearing in the middle. I groaned slightly as I tried to sit up and looked down at my clothes; they were all ripped and torn and my body had pale scars all over but no sign of blood.


 * “It sounds like moving is out of the question for you, isn’t it?” A voice asked through the brush; his voice was smooth and sweet, almost like caramel, and was calm, unlike the nightmarish voices I couldn’t get out of the back of my head.


 * “Who's there??” I snapped, whipping around and immediately regretting it, my body aching even more.

A man, no older than I, walked towards me from the brush, hands out in front of him. His hair was a light brownish and his eyes were almost like brown fire. He didn't look scared but worried and came closer to me.


 * “Who are you?..” I asked, just barely above a whisper.


 * “My name is Flare. We call this place the Island, there are five others here too.” He took his time and sat down on his knees in front of me.


 * “Why am I here?”


 * “We all ask ourselves that question to, but we can't seem to find the answer. But we’re still working on it.”

Flare leaned back slightly, just enough to get his leather jacket off, and draped it carefully over my shoulder. I pulled it tightly around myself as a response.


 * “Now, can you tell me your name?” He asked with a small smile to reassure me.


 * “Duskara…”

Shadows began to creep closer around us from every corner of the forest. When I would look over, it would creep back, as if I controlled them.


 * “You have a beautiful name, Duskara, no one knows why any of are here, but I know we’ll figure this out.” He said, holding out his hands towards the shadows and little flames danced on his fingertips, lighting the darkness around the two of us. “Now this might sound like a strange question, but may I see your wrists?”


 * “My wrists? Why?”

Flare turned over his arms to show the tattoos just below his palm that looked like a pair of angel wings being burned from the tip and turning to ash. Slowly, as a response, I turned my own arms over to reveal what looked like dragon wings, black in color with deep purple outlining.


 * “Oh, I’ve seen this one before, it's actually just by mine. I’ll show you the way.” He stood and offered a hand to help me off the ground.

I hesitantly took his hand and he carefully pulled me up, being mindful of the soreness of my body. “What do you mean?” I asked as we started walking.


 * “There's a whole bunch of cabins and for some reason it seems like each tattoo everyone has corresponds with one of them. Weird, I know, but it seems to work for the others, so why not for you.”

He continued to explain what he knew about the island, about all of the other people and their abilities, like how one girl could make lightning from her fingertips and how one boy can read minds. The whole time, he kept a comfortable distance, just so I felt safe by him. He took me into a busy clearing filled with little log houses. We didn’t have to go far to find what we assumed to be mine, according to the markings on the door.


 * “See that kind of darkish brown cabin? That’s mine so if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to come over. It’s always open if you need help.” Flare offered as we got to the porch of my cabin.


 * “Oh...thank you” I forced a small smile and slipped through the small crack in the door.

Everything ahead of me was either a dark purple like the curtains or a deep black on the crystal chandelier and couch. The pillow was even a dark grey with a full moon and tree. It had almost a haunted house kind of feeling and I was almost expecting  a ghost to come out at me. I still wandered over the different pieces of the room, trying to get a handle on all of this It was hard to grasp the concept that all of this was just waiting here for me, and there wasn’t even a layer of dust coating the furniture. The floor above me had a small opening with a dark iron ladder for connection, which made the cabin in itself even more foreboding, even though I could easily see parts of what was above, even from my front doorway, a black Victorian style bed with dark purple sheeting that matched the color of the curtains below and the little lamp on the nightstand.

My whole body still ached from the scars I found with every movement. I wanted to know how all of this was happening and even where I was exactly, but most of all, why me?