Duke of Darkness (Empire Of Storms #1)

Chapter 2

It was cold like ice, but hard like metal. The sounds, the screams. What horrors lie behind those walls. A gentle touch, piercing sweat and blood. So much blood. "Your going to be fine my love. Everything is going to be fine! We can finally BE together."

His face is dark, nothing but shadows and force. His voice holds a song with an infinite repeat. He hums the same tune, too fast for a lullaby, too slow for a dance. "What a scandal we are." He laughs. A scandal? Why's that?

She twists and turns, pushes and pulls. Chained, strapped down. Tamed. She struggles, he laughs. "So eager! Don't worry we'll be together soon. Just a little more and you'll be perfect. One more stroke, just one more and you'll be perfection incarnate!" And he laughs. He howls and hacks while she can only whimper as the darkness consumes her.

~

Alison jolted upwards, each breath riddled with panic. She rubbed her hands, moving up towards her forearms and shoulders. It had felt so real, the lingering ice from that gentle touch. She felt pain on her wrists and something stung. Alison turned on her nightstand lamp and felt her left arm. It stung, really stung, but she could see nothing.

Alison realized she had been sweating, practically leaving a stain on her pillow. Shaking her head, she stood up and opened the curtains. It was morning, the summer sun had risen, but she could tell it was still a bit too early. Alison shoved the nightmare away, she could deal with her boogieman later. For now she had to get ready, she had work in a few hours anyways.

~

Alison had known Madame T for a good sum of her life. She was a stubborn old woman who insisted that she was 65, but looked well over. She had been Alison's neighbor, till she moved into her shop. She also played the roll as Alison's personal councilor when it came to her visions and psychic dealings. Madame T herself claimed to be a "super psychic pharmacist", not only dealing herbs, but futures as well. She taught Alison everything she knew from reading palms to tarot cards and if anyone knew what kind of hell her nightmare symbolized it was her.

The smell of fresh eggs was enough to wake up Christopher from his long awaited sleep by his fated partner. A simple gesture of appreciation on Alison's part, she had made enough for three. Jean was still fast asleep and would be until early noon hours. "Looks like somebody really wants a ride huh?"

"Course I do"

He laughed into his hand, pouring a glass of pre-made coffee. "You sure you don't want me to drop you off? You just want the station?"

"Yes. I feel like walking today, but not too much walking."

He shrugged, taking a sip before throwing on some sweats and a hoodie. The vast difference between her father's business attire and causal attire was just so odd. No one could believe it until it stared them down like it did for Alison almost every day. He could go from a tailored suit, clean shaven face and neatly combed hair to bed-head quiff, ankle socks and sweats in a blink of an eye.Thankfully Jean didn't seem to mind.

The ride to the station wasn't quite as odd as one would expect. Alison was quite close with her little family and often found quick conversation starters. She and her father shared many interests such as the latest episode of Gotham or who was winning what election. But when it came to boys or "the talk", Jean usually took the lead.

The car rounded up the rear of the station. Alison gave him a quick peck goodbye and slipped out of the car. She could feel her father's overprotective eyes following her descent and could hear his "Just in case" excuse from miles away when really it was just a dad being...well a dad. He had no reason to worry at all, they lived near the decent areas around Toronto. No shootings till the next few blocks.

The train ride was surprisingly smooth. Alison managed to find a seat by the window, away from everyone else. Well every human. According to Google, Alison had an "over-active" imagination, allowing her to see made up things that others couldn't. Parts of her believed it was true, other not so much.

She had once seen a rather flashy Asian man disappear into a brick wall with little Latino boy, his son no doubt, in hand. Once they disappeared she touched the wall, feeling it's hard edges. They probably weren't real, just more visions. And now right infront of her stood a small little thing that resembled a radish from a certain angle.

She stared at the little radish and it stared back at her. They would've had the most intense staring contest if only a pair of black jeans hadn't nearly squashed it.

Alison forced her head up, but ignored whomever sat infront of her. There were plenty of seats on the other side of the cart. What made this side so special? She could have sworn she herd a whistle or some sort of cat call behind her, but her music practically cancelled out any unnecessary noise. She walked to the very end of the cart and exited once the next stop arrived. She was early and didn't mind walking an extra block to work. "What's the harm in a little work out?" She thought to herself.

The little radish thing seemed to be following her, running as fast as its little legs could take it. Alison couldn't help, but route for this underdog. It was trying it's best after all. She slowed her pace, if this truly was some sort of figment of her imagination then it was a cute little try hard. She wasn't heartless after all.

The radish followed Alison all the way to work, not moving an inch away from her side. She had half a mind to pick it up and carry it around in her bag, but the sudden sight of familiar black jackets stopped her. She swallowed, it was the same mobster-looking dance cult from yesterday and this time they brought another dashingly good looking boy.

"Perfect..." she muttered under her breath.