Dahlia - The Velvet Witch and Her Dark Spirit

PART 6 - HERBAL TEA AT THE VELVET EYE

A bolt of lightning illuminates the park before everything fades to dark. Moments later, the accompanying clap booms so loud it makes me jump from the bench I'm sitting on.

She's late, we said 9 pm, and it's now quarter past. Not that I mind tardiness. On the contrary, I usually prefer it as it means more alone time. But I'm not thinking like that with Dahlia. I'm excited to see her, can't wait in fact.

Another ten minutes goes by. I think I'm being stood up, which I've had before on random Tinder dates, but never by someone I'd met in the flesh already. Or maybe she's lost. Though that doesn't make sense as she chose this place.

This park is a strange pick for a first date because it's out on the edge of London and eerily desolate. Flanking the spot is a haunted winter forest with a thick mist sitting deep in every crevasse. She said she knows a place a short walk from here where we can have a warm drink. I look around and wonder where. There's a good view from this peak, but there's no sign of civilisation. Even the cabbie was thrown and kept asking, 'Are you sure you've got the right place?'

After getting home from our meeting last night, I sat on my bed and watched the clock roll through several hours before calling her. She answered quickly and said she knew it was me before I'd said a word.

"You came into my mind. Then my phone rang," Dahlia said.

She's clearly on a different level from the rest of us. This was highlighted when I looked over her business card.

Dahlia Devon - Importer of the Occult

Below was an address in the docklands, a stone's throw from Tattoo Freak. It's an area laden with derelict buildings, wild rats the size of dogs and a reputation as freaky as the Bermuda triangle. A fitting spot for an underworld operation. On the back of the card was an inverted pentagram. Below that in fine italics was;

Fire shall burn those that choose to dance with darkness.

The card threw me. But after mulling it over for some time, I decided it was a gimmick to sell her wares and left it at that. She certainly didn't seem the evil type. No more than Bonnie or Will did. Perhaps behind closed doors, she drank blood and gave herself to Satan, but either way, I was too intrigued to back out.

She is a ghost online too. After running her name through Instagram, Facebook, Twitter and Google and coming up with nothing, I started to wonder what this woman had to hide.

The sporadic raindrops have turned to a steady drizzle while Dahlia is still nowhere to be seen. I grab my phone and hit her number. But it rings out.

"Boo," she bellows in my ear.

"Oh, Jesus."

"Sorry," she says, giggling like a kid.

"You scared the life out of me."

"I thought you'd seen me come over that crest just before. Obviously not."

I soften as I sink into her gaze. She reaches out, and we embrace. Her perfume fills my nose and turns me giddy. This woman's quickly becoming my favourite drug.

"You smell goooooood," I say.

She pulls away as the rain gets heavier. Her hair is soaked and her long black dress isn't far behind.

"Where to ma'am?" I ask as I watch the clouds above.

"I like it here," she says playfully.

"In the rain?"

"That's OK. It's not cold. I like it."

"Really? It seems fate has it in for us."

"How do you mean?"