Read Online Dark Light (The Dark Light Series) by S.L. Jennings - Free Book Online
Authors: S.L. Jennings
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breakdown.
“When you turn 21. There is no doubt that you’ll be powerful, considering who your parents were,” says Donna. The reminder of my wicked Warlock bio dad causes a shiver to run down my spine. “However, no one knows what type of magic you’ll have.”
“You mean no one knows if I’ll be good or evil,” I whisper.
“We know you’re anything but evil, sweetie. And you could very well put an end to all of the fighting. Your mother, Natalia, had hoped for that. She wanted there to be peace among the Light and the Dark and wanted you to be that bridge. But it had never been done before. Ever. People fear what they don’t understand.” Donna places her hand over mine in reassurance.
“But does anyone even have a clue what I’ll become? What if I’m some crazed psychopath or something? Can’t I just opt out of this ascension?”
“It doesn’t work that way, honey. You are what you are. And that is a very special, very unique young woman,” says Donna. For someone who has no idea what will happen in another 12 months, she’s oddly optimistic. That’s even if I make it to my 21st birthday being that there’s someone trying to kill me. Oh yeah, that.
“For now, just focus on keeping yourself safe and out of harm’s way,” adds my dad as if he can read my anxiety. “The herbs will work on concealing your identity. Just be smart and no risky behavior, okay, Kiddo?”
“Right,” I reply flatly. Demented Warlock out to kill me. No big deal. They must be pretty damn confident in Donna’s concoction. “I’ve gotta get ready for work.”
I rise and walk over to the trash to scrape my leftover food, and then place my dish into the sink. Once I’ve retreated to my room, I mindlessly get my clothes ready for work, deciding on soft cowl-neck cream sweater, fitted jeans, and brown riding boots. It’s dressier than my usual jeans and t-shirt work attire but I need a pick me up after the news of my potential attacker. I put in some stud earrings and leave my long tresses down in soft waves. I smile at myself in the mirror and think I feel pretty . Not that I think I’m ugly. Just not very glamorous, especially next to Morgan. Morgan! I pick up my cell phone and call her, knowing she’ll be agitated with my brief text last night. Did I even get a chance to send it?
Shoot, her voicemail. “Hey, Morg, sorry bout last night. Crazy shit. But I do have something quite interesting to report!” Not only do my cheeks heat at the thought of Dorian, but my heart instantly beats into overtime. “Heading to work now. Call me later?”
I grab my purse and my favorite brown leather jacket just in case it’s cold after I get off. Before stepping outside, I check to make sure there’s no one out there waiting for me. It’s a beautiful day, the warm sunlight kissing my cheeks with Vitamin D. I smile up at the sky and my trepidation instantly vanishes. One of the perks of Colorado’s high altitude is the sun always feels closer and brighter. There’s a chill in the air but I’m comfortable in my light sweater. I pop in my favorite John Mayer cd and blast it all the way to Chapel Hills mall. It’s going to be a good day, I can feel it. I’ve at least earned it.
No matter how hard I try, I just can’t get motivated at work. I want to be out enjoying this beautiful Saturday just like everyone else, not wasting away selling overpriced denim to bratty teenagers with Daddy’s credit card. As I’m retrieving about 10 articles of clothing that some pesky kid has tried on and left in the dressing room, I feel my cell vibrate in my back pocket, indicating a text message. I begin to rehang the apparel on their appropriate racks then pull out my phone once I’m masked by the shroud of the jeans display. I suspect it’s Morgan but to my surprise it’s Dorian. My heart beats furiously and my breathing becomes ragged as if I’ve just run the length of the entire mall complex.
Dorian, 1:17 P.M.
-I
“When you turn 21. There is no doubt that you’ll be powerful, considering who your parents were,” says Donna. The reminder of my wicked Warlock bio dad causes a shiver to run down my spine. “However, no one knows what type of magic you’ll have.”
“You mean no one knows if I’ll be good or evil,” I whisper.
“We know you’re anything but evil, sweetie. And you could very well put an end to all of the fighting. Your mother, Natalia, had hoped for that. She wanted there to be peace among the Light and the Dark and wanted you to be that bridge. But it had never been done before. Ever. People fear what they don’t understand.” Donna places her hand over mine in reassurance.
“But does anyone even have a clue what I’ll become? What if I’m some crazed psychopath or something? Can’t I just opt out of this ascension?”
“It doesn’t work that way, honey. You are what you are. And that is a very special, very unique young woman,” says Donna. For someone who has no idea what will happen in another 12 months, she’s oddly optimistic. That’s even if I make it to my 21st birthday being that there’s someone trying to kill me. Oh yeah, that.
“For now, just focus on keeping yourself safe and out of harm’s way,” adds my dad as if he can read my anxiety. “The herbs will work on concealing your identity. Just be smart and no risky behavior, okay, Kiddo?”
“Right,” I reply flatly. Demented Warlock out to kill me. No big deal. They must be pretty damn confident in Donna’s concoction. “I’ve gotta get ready for work.”
I rise and walk over to the trash to scrape my leftover food, and then place my dish into the sink. Once I’ve retreated to my room, I mindlessly get my clothes ready for work, deciding on soft cowl-neck cream sweater, fitted jeans, and brown riding boots. It’s dressier than my usual jeans and t-shirt work attire but I need a pick me up after the news of my potential attacker. I put in some stud earrings and leave my long tresses down in soft waves. I smile at myself in the mirror and think I feel pretty . Not that I think I’m ugly. Just not very glamorous, especially next to Morgan. Morgan! I pick up my cell phone and call her, knowing she’ll be agitated with my brief text last night. Did I even get a chance to send it?
Shoot, her voicemail. “Hey, Morg, sorry bout last night. Crazy shit. But I do have something quite interesting to report!” Not only do my cheeks heat at the thought of Dorian, but my heart instantly beats into overtime. “Heading to work now. Call me later?”
I grab my purse and my favorite brown leather jacket just in case it’s cold after I get off. Before stepping outside, I check to make sure there’s no one out there waiting for me. It’s a beautiful day, the warm sunlight kissing my cheeks with Vitamin D. I smile up at the sky and my trepidation instantly vanishes. One of the perks of Colorado’s high altitude is the sun always feels closer and brighter. There’s a chill in the air but I’m comfortable in my light sweater. I pop in my favorite John Mayer cd and blast it all the way to Chapel Hills mall. It’s going to be a good day, I can feel it. I’ve at least earned it.
No matter how hard I try, I just can’t get motivated at work. I want to be out enjoying this beautiful Saturday just like everyone else, not wasting away selling overpriced denim to bratty teenagers with Daddy’s credit card. As I’m retrieving about 10 articles of clothing that some pesky kid has tried on and left in the dressing room, I feel my cell vibrate in my back pocket, indicating a text message. I begin to rehang the apparel on their appropriate racks then pull out my phone once I’m masked by the shroud of the jeans display. I suspect it’s Morgan but to my surprise it’s Dorian. My heart beats furiously and my breathing becomes ragged as if I’ve just run the length of the entire mall complex.
Dorian, 1:17 P.M.
-I
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