Dahrk Circles

1

It had been years, it seemed, since he really thought about it. The magic was always there, swirling inside him like a dark mist straining to be released, but he had never let it surface. And for good reason. No one would understand or accept it. No matter how many upbeat pop teen culture versions emerged, they wouldn't actually accept him. Of course, there was the obvious nut that so desperately wants it all to be true, but they would just be a nuisance to handle. No. He preferred to stay alone. Stay quiet.
    Spending the last three years in the backwoods of a small town in Louisiana, he decided, was the best thing for him. Very few people knew the name he had chosen to go by now, and even fewer people knew where his little cedar cabin was hidden. He liked it that way. It made it easier to deal with it all. He had decided long ago he would never truly be happy, and it made it easier to accept, but not to manage.
    He gazed out the window with dark eyes, peering through thin wisps of black hair, looking at nothing in the gray storm. While wondering if his love for storms and darkness came from the curse, or from before in his other life, he rigidly massaged the purple scar on the back of his left hand. It was absent minded now; an instinctive motion. Even after all these years. It had been so long since he really remembered the man that was left behind inside of him. He could still feel it there, but those moments were always weak and fleeting. Jonathan M. Dahrk no longer existed. He had died long ago. It was now nothing more than a foggy memory buried under 74 years of darkness. He had nothing to hold on to. And he deserved it. With decades to ponder his imprisoned fate, a curse was the worst hand he could have been dealt, but he deserved nothing less.
    The shrill ringing of the cell phone Marcus had given him exploded in the dense room. One would think that after all these years around the new developments of technology he would have learned to adapt and figure out how to turn the thing off. He detested it. And almost as much, he detested Marcus.
    "What do you want?" He answered the device, his voice as deep and dark as the storm outside.
    "Hey Jonny! Listen, tonight is-"
    "I don't care Marcus," a brief silence and then a sigh over static, "and that's not my name."
    "Pffft! Right. And I'm not a soul sucking man-slut. Listen, I know it's your most unfavorite day of the year, but it's not every day that my main man turns the big One-Oh-One! No matter how many rounds of life you take, it's still big! We gotta do something tonight. Come on, do it for me Jon. I never get to see you anymore!"
    He moved away from the window and slunked into an elegant wooden chair, rubbing his stubble face with his good hand.
    "Marcus, you always see me. You're just as cursed as I am and you know it."
    "Yeah, but you don't hang out with me! Think of how lonely I am. Being stuck with you, totally not your fault. You leaving me alone to myself? Totally your fault. I need this!"
    He tried to keep himself from chuckling, "Marcus, we both know you are never by yourself," he picked lint off his pant leg and leaned back, "who was it you were with this last time? Was it Marry-Beth?" He heard the familiar airy laugh from the young looking, old soul on the other end. They had been together a very long time, and no matter how irritated he got at him, Marcus always knew how to defuse his brooding.
    "Well, it could be worse. It could be love." And there he was again, snapping things back to irritating. After a silence he said,
    "I'm not talking about this anymore." And went to hang up,
    "Jon, you know what I mean! All I'm saying is, it can't hurt to move forward with life-"
    "What life?" He grumbled.
    "And put yourself out there, man! I mean, don't go out and be stupid enough to fall in love, but you are allowed to have a good time. Fun is good for you! It keeps you young; good for the skin."
    "Black magic keeps me young, Marcus."
    "Oh whatever. It's hardly 'black'. You'd never even touch that stuff and you know it."
    "Not like she gave me much of a choice with being touched by regular magic, either," he said with a snarl.
    "Dude, stop being bitter."
    "'Dude' stop being in the 70's. It was a terrible decade. Move on Marcus."
    "I'm serious! If you can't move on then you're going to stay stuck for the next 74 years. Leanne can't keep you from having fun, man."
    "Don't say her name..."
    He sighed, "Okay, Jon, I'm sorry. I'll spit on her name for you." Then a loogie sound with a promised spit, "there, happy?"
    "Goodbye Marcus."
    "I'm coming over later whether you like it or not. Dress up!" Click. Why did he have to be so frustrating.
    Jon set the phone down on the table and gingerly walked to the bathroom to rinse his face. Leaning, he held the rim of the sink and looked at his dripping face in the mirror. Marcus was right. He needed to have a good time for once. His eyes seemed almost hooded, like hiding a murky and dangerous emotion. The rest of his face seemed familiar, the straight nose, square jaw covered in a rough tone of scruff, the cleft in his chin; yet he was still a stranger to himself. Marcus was right. He needed a night out.
    As he dressed for the impending arrival of Marcus, his bearded dragon, Alistair, comfortably perched himself atop the Book of Ortha, as was his custom. The pet directed a low hiss at the man putting on a jacket.
    "Hush, Alistair, he's going to come get me anyway. I shouldn't be too long," he stroked the lizard down its spine with his marred hand, "protect the Book for me while I'm gone, okay?"

                                            ****

Too many people. There were absolutely too many people in the Bar 'n' Grill. And right now he hated Marcus; he gave the back of his head the stink eye.
    "I know what you're thinking Jon-"
    "My name is Jay"
    "Oh whatever." Jon followed Marcus to a side table with low lighting.
    You know, if he wasn't such a hassle, he would have actually liked to hang out with Marcus. He was slightly taller than him, maybe about 6'3", and he had calm, sandy brown hair with a slight wave. He had one of those soft toned faces, where you assumed they would have been the Pampers poster child as a baby. He was built the same as Jon, like a swimmer; with broad shoulders and a slimmed waist. Even if he didn't have magic to compel them, women would still run to jump in his arms. He was very eccentric and easy going with everyone he met. That's why, right now, Jon hated him.
    As they moved to sit, the bouncy Cajun music permeated the air. It all seemed so irritating, especially as Marcus was waving and "hey there"ing every single person in the bar. It was nauseating.
    "What'll it be Marky?" asked a very saucy looking brunette who was eyeballing the Incubus.
    "Evening, Kathy! We will have two specials and a couple of the biggest beers you got." That cheeky, flawless smile of Marcus' was going to ruin his evening, Jon decided.
    "I don't drink, Marky," Jon rolled his eyes as Marcus dismissed his comment with a head nod to the waitress.
    "Man, you are such a bum." Marcus propped an elbow over the back of his chair.
    "And you are such a man-whore." Jon crossed his arms and stretched his long legs under the table. Marcus laughed, like a ray of sun aloft on the wind. "I don't know why you insist I have 'fun' when you have plenty for the both of us."
    "Because you need it! You not getting some is making me nervous. And I get some for a living! I should know the negative side effects of abstinence." It was Jon's turn to laugh.
    "Your negative side effect of not getting any, is withering away to dust. You have to, or you die."
    "Yeah, well that's the thing about being what I am. It has perks. Plus, Incubi have a huge responsibility, you know. If I didn't seduce every dame I laid eyes on, then you'd be out of a job as the town's eunuch," He kicked his leg playfully and laughed again, "So, you're welcome!"
    "Did you really just say 'dame'?" His laughter was almost foreign to himself, but it was good to finally feel normal again. 74 years was too long to keep himself from being happy. Marcus was right. Leanne couldn't keep him miserable forever, even if that was how long her curse lasted.
    After a heavy helping of the bar's signature fish 'n' chips, the two of them lingered to nurse their second round of beers. That's what he loved about Marcus, he was so easy to get along with. Even if he was incoragable. He watched Marcus' gaze scope the room, probably looking for his next hit. He knew that Marcus loved being an Incubus. Every time he would "get some" he would take a bit of the heart of the woman along with the regenerative part of her soul; it was like a high for him. It must also be a bonus feeding off of their souls, because it was the only thing keeping him alive. Mostly because of his lack thereof, he needed a temporary substitute. Normally, his eyes and voice were gentle and alluring, but when he stalked for his feed, they held a bit of an animalistic edge.
    "Well look here." His sharp eyes narrowed on the dark corner by the bar. "One I haven't seen before." Jon turned, and his eyes caught hold of a petite, shapely woman with an impeccable backside. She was hard to miss. From the back, her bright, crimson hair seemed to light up the room even from her dark corner. "I bet I can get her in less than 15 seconds."
    "I dare you to not use any magic then," challenged Jon as he indifferently turned back to his beer.
    "Oh, but what fun is that?" And off he went, to go "refill" their drinks with a bounce in his step. He always felt more chipper when he could sense a new soul was about to fill him. Perks of a small town ensured a steady stream of lovers to keep his needed supply of soul renewal. Which meant he knew everyone in town. But this little piece; he didn't know. Yet. She must be passing through, he figured.
    He slid into the bar seat next to her and licked his lips. He always liked a good red head. "Refill, if you please, Mike." Over the years, he had mastered the art of controlling the fluctuations in his voice to affectively catch the attention of any female with just a word. The inspiration which he contributed to the movie Love Potion #9.
    He turned on the charm and leaned slightly toward her, "I haven't seen you around here. You must be new-" he stopped, eyes wide as she turned to him and he recognized her face. His heart froze.
    "Well I'm hardly new." A flute-like voice, those sharp green eyes, her capable thin lips, and the soft heart shaped face. An indescribable beauty. Just the same as he remembered.
    "Leanne?"