Drenched in Darkness (Mad Annie Series Book 1) Read online

  I rolled my eyes at the memory. After a pretty vanilla four-way gang bang that barely let me drain any hukihuki from me to make sex toys—gah, why are men so squeamish about what goes in their butt!—I still needed to let loose. The whispers and voices in the hukihuki led me to a dark alley. I skipped down and called out in the dark with my most helpless voice. Anyone else and this would have been a very stupid idea. Sure enough, three would be rapists stepped out to surround me.

  Needless to say I wasn’t making them any sex toys.

  No, these little piggies got filleted by yours truly all up and down that damn alley. I sighed. I used to be a medic. I used to help people. I could pull hukihuki, dark and usually bad miasma, from people. That, along with trauma counselling, helped to kickstart the healing process. Now, I’m a hukihuki super magnet and I’m constantly having to pull it out of myself. What do I do with it? Sex toys and weapons. I stop to mentally shake my head out of these grim thoughts.

  Tonight, I don’t want to waste a single second dwelling on what I know is coming when the proverbial clock strikes midnight. I smiled at the nearly empty tiny restaurant. When I first got to this city I had seen it as I prowled the streets killing and maiming. In a night where I had had a precious earned half hour of sanity, I had watched as the elderly couple served a few locals their dinner.

  Everyone had looked so friendly.

  I kept my head down, when I entered, and sat at a table. I was damn near indestructible now but I couldn’t always count on what state I would find myself in when I got a lucid moment. I had learned early on how to use the hukihuki to shuck off any blood, grime, and gore. I effectively never needed a shower again but it didn’t change or repair whatever ragged or torn clothes I would find myself in. It had taken me a year of rampaging through North Africa and the Mediterranean before I accidentally realised I could gain clarity by using up the hukihuki in my system. A whole year lost in a blur. This was my first half hour purposefully gotten; I wasn’t going to waste it on trying to find or buy new clothes.

  Money came easily to me because I frequently killed criminals who seemed to always have some cash on them. That very first moment of accidental clarity happened because I inadvertently drained myself going on a murder spree through a “product” hand off between sex traffickers. That had scored me millions of euros that I divvied up between myself and the sex slaves I had set free from their cages and drug IVs. The cops had taken care of the rest who couldn’t run on their own but I was left wandering a town in rags looking like a battered homeless woman. A raggedy woman who unbeknownst to everyone around me had a sack full of money.

  That first time to this restaurant the old woman had seen my black eyes, stringy hair, torn clothes and simply patted my hands and motioned for me to sit when I tried to bolt. She fed me and brought me clean clothes, some hand me downs from her grandchildren most likely. I had learned that night that while my eyes were covered in tar, my tears were still clear.

  After I had eaten I pulled out all the money clips, gold watches, necklaces, and rings that I had swiped from the people I had killed. I dumped it all on the table and ran out the door. Every moment of clarity after I would be close to the restaurant and sleep in the alley. One night she caught me sleeping there and had pulled me inside from out the cold. I couldn’t and still didn’t speak enough Croatian to tell her that I didn’t really feel the cold anymore or that I was the most dangerous thing in that alley. She had simply seen a woman in her late-20s living rough. In reality, I was sticking close because I wanted to keep her and her husband safe. They were the first people in over a year to be kind to me. All I wanted was to be kind back.

  The old woman and her husband lived above the restaurant. They had made up a bed for me and never questioned how I would just up and disappear for hours or days at a time. Each time I would bring them whatever money or valuables I would garner in my “outings” as a way to say thank you.

  Tonight though? I would walk in like a real customer, in a clean dress and shoes I had purchased on my own. I opened the door slowly and heard the aged wood creak. The tiny brass bell tinkled above my head in a happy greeting.

  “Ah! Night Flower!” Marco, the old woman’s husband smiled. His eyes seemed to be swallowed up in the wrinkles on his face.

  “What a pretty dress,” Marta beamed at me beside her husband. I blushed. I had wanted to look nice and I did it without having to go on a killing spree. I wasn’t going to tell them I had earned my reprieve with some next level porn style bathroom sex. Time to practice my Croatian.

  “Thank you,” I smiled, “I bought this.”

  They spoke much too quickly for me to catch what they were saying but the gist of it seemed to be positive and encouraging. “May I order your special?” I mentally buffed my nails on my chest. Look at me and my bad self ordering a meal in Croatian!

  “Yes, Madam,” Marco said mock-seriously, “Please sit here.” He flourished and twirled his dishtowel and bowed forward. I and Marta tried to stifle a laugh.

  “And what would Madam like to order?” Marta half laughed.

  “Your special, please!” I snapped the menu closed and handed it to her. Marta promptly bopped it on my head and we all laughed. I had exhausted the proper Croatian I knew and sure as shit couldn’t read the menu.

  “Coming right up, flower!” Marco called from the tiny kitchen in the back. Marta sat down and I pulled a small packet of M&Ms from my dress pocket. I had bought it from a hotel convenience store and immediately thought of them.

  “See, Marta,” I pointed at one ‘M’, “see, Marco.” I pointed at the other ‘M’. It was a terrible play on words but it made Marta shake her head and smile. These little ways to communicate that I was thinking of them and that I cared made my day. While I waited for Marco to finish cooking up whatever dinner he fancied for me to try, Marta brought out another one of her grandchildren’s picture books.

  I nodded my head enthusiastically to let her know that I would be here long enough to enjoy one of her lessons. Most of my fellow Hawaiian Nationals learned at least two languages growing up, and once you entered your compulsory Defence Force training you had to learn another. Kellianna, my best friend’s punalua and fellow unit medic, had also taught me Irish Gaelic on the side.

  Sadness bloomed in my chest. My best friend. Makamae Laki. When we were teens we had explored our sexuality together learning our bodies with each other. We had remained friends even after our lust for each other had cooled. I was the one that finally pushed Maka into seeing Kellianna as more than a childhood friend. I helped Maka see Kellianna for the wonderful and patient woman she had become. The two had become punalua, spouses, soon after. For Kellianna, Maka was it. She knew and respected that Maka would want and need more than one punalua but after everything happened I had no clue what had happened to either of them.

  In the time after the incident I had wandered, out of my mind and full of bloody death. Laughing the whole way. Mad Annie had gone from a teasing nickname between friends to an international headline. I barely remembered anything from before the last few months in Zagreb. I had to piece together what happened to me by online research done with stolen phones, taken from the cold bodies of my victims. I found a long list of articles describing my bloody exploits across various countries. Stories of teams dispatched to try and capture or kill me. Some escaping with their lives and limbs but most not. Reading each piece of information was a form of self inflicted torture.

  “Flower?” I looked at Marta’s questioning face and realised I had let dark thoughts take over my time. She patted my hand and I smiled. Opening the children’s book she began to teach me and help me sound out words together. I asked her broken questions and she would patiently correct my sentences and teach me the answers. All in all, Marta was an amazing teacher and again I wondered about her and Marco’s life.

  The restaurant door banged open. I jumped a bit in my seat. I could hear that they were just a group of drunk American tourists and calmed.
Loud but harmless. Marta moved away to get their order set and came back to caress my shoulder reassuringly. I wasn’t naturally a scared person, which I knew she knew, but I think she also knew that this was my safe haven.

  The easy and affectionate camaraderie of the group, behind and to the left of me, warmed me. I missed that for myself but I was glad to hear others enjoying something so precious with each other. I never realised until everything went to hell that I never really appreciated being around other people. I missed hugs. I missed a kiss on the cheek to say hello or goodbye.

  I wasn’t the gruff strong one like Maka. I was the soft taco who enjoyed tackle hugs and popcorn fights on movie night. Marta and Marco had sensed from the beginning how starved I was for affection but they had taken their time getting close to me.

  I didn’t blame them for treating me like a spooked animal. That’s what I was, when I wasn’t a raging killing machine. I no longer feared what someone could do to me, but in my moments of clarity I feared what I might do to an innocent bystander.

  The Americans quickly ate and paid. Shouting a bunch of choppy Croatian that the food was good and ‘they happy now’ had me giggling into my hand. This was another difference between me and Maka. She had a real skeptical and downright cynical eye for anyone she didn’t know. Every time she’d tell me I was too trusting I would tell her she was just a grumpy kitty. Our ribbing was always good natured and done out of love. Now? Who knew what Maka, Kellianna, or anyone I used to know thought of me.

  “Your dinner, Madam!” Marco plonked down a tray full of various dishes, breaking me out of my reverie.

  “Wow, Marco,” I laughed, “You feeding me or an army?”

  “Both!” He laughed.

  Yes, I happily thought. This little slice of happy, was worth the wonderful, but crazy, bathroom sexcapades. Thanks, Brave Girl.

  Anaokapo

  The stairs to the upstairs apartment creaked, but to me they sounded like the sweetest music. I was giddy. There was a stupid lopsided smile on my face and I wasn’t ashamed of the goofy look. Tonight would be the third night this month that I was going to sleep.

  In a bed.

  Not in an alley.

  Not covered in filth and blood.

  Clean and safe.

  Back when Marco and Marta were young newlyweds they had made the huge decision to purchase the apartment above their restaurant as a way to save money. Over time the decision panned out. They raised their family here. They saved money. They were happy here.

  When Marta first offered me—well, demanded really—that I use their old apartment upstairs to sleep, I had resisted. I couldn’t guarantee their safety. Following Marta upstairs had changed my mind. Changed my life, if I was honest.

  They had such good mana, good power, that it showed in the space. Everywhere I looked there was barely any hukihuki to be seen. Nothing a normal living space wouldn’t have accumulated over a lifetime of living. I had sobbed that day. Marta held me until I stopped. She probably thought I was crying because I trusted a stranger, an often deadly decision, and it had led to a genuine and safe place.

  No. I had cried because it was blessedly free of hukihuki. This more than anything else meant that I knew deep down in my iwi, my bones, that they were good people. Hukihuki had stained my body and mind. There was so much hukihuki in my system, so much dark miasma, that I could almost read it. Sometimes, like with those human traffickers, I could even hear the hukihuki telling me its story of creation.

  Whispers.

  I brushed a curl behind my ear and reached for the apartment’s door handle. This creaked too but it rooted me in the present. I was grateful for its cranky proclamation of my entrance. It was another reminder that I was having a good night.

  Walking in, I sighed. Dinner was wonderful. I waited and learned new words from the children’s books Marta had shown me tonight while they closed up. Marco and Marta had gone home to their much nicer and newer house. I was home here in this simple space, free from any wandering hukihuki.

  I scratched the back of my ear and thought I heard a bit of a buzzing. Strange. I shrugged. Maybe there was an unseen fly in here trying to find a place to rest for the night as well. No matter.

  I kicked off my shoes then shuffled straight to the bedroom. I smiled again and marvelled at what a wonderful night this had turned out to be. I giggled and leapt onto the bed. I didn’t need the covers over me but I wanted the whole sleeping experience. I leapt off the bed and went to the small drawers.

  Grabbing some adorable pyjamas that Marta got me, I changed my clothes. The soft royal blue pants with spaceships on them and matching long sleeved top always made me laugh. I loved how they made me feel silly and free.

  I pulled back the covers and got under their cold embrace. The bed would warm soon. Not like that really mattered much to me anymore, but I longed for the familiarity. That soft welcoming hug before sleep pulled me under.

  Never again would I take it for granted.

  Sleep and being able to sleep was a blessing. I shook my head hard. No, no. We are not going there. I squinted my eyes as if I could force out the previous depressing thoughts. No spiral of toxic emotions were going to pull me down. Not on a night that I actually slept!

  I smashed my head into my pillow and put a smile on my face. I would choose to embrace this moment. Soft buzzing filled my ear again, a kind of white noise. I ignored it and redirected my mind. Nothing was going to bring me down tonight.

  ...please, no!

  Why can’t you...

  Crying.

  Screaming.

  I hate you!

  No!

  Liar!

  Dumb bitch!

  Screaming.

  Screaming.

  Screaming!

  SCREAMING!

  “What...,” I gasped, “Oh, Gods! I can’t see! I can’t see!”

  You never listen!

  Please, please, please!

  You think you’re so pretty!

  I deserved that dress!

  Screaming!

  “No! Stop! Please,” I begged the whispers scraping against my skin. Am I the one screaming? I felt tears pour down my face. I rocked back and forth and wrapped my arms around my knees, tight to my chest. I knew what I had to do but I didn’t want to. Gods, please, why couldn’t I have tonight?

  I curled my fingers into a claw and gouged out my throat. Wet gulping noises filled my ears but the screaming stopped. The white hot pain gave me clarity. I wasn’t blind. The pitch black tar that filled every crevice, cutting off all light and sound, was the hukihuki that I had been attracted to me while I slept.

  Tears and blood gushed down my body but I didn’t die. Instead of fighting the onslaught of hukihuki I pulled in the darkness to heal the rip in my gaping throat. What I took from the room to replace my throat barely made a dent. As soon as it was repaired I sucked in a deep breath. I sobbed and vomited excess blood up. My eyes widened at what little I could see of my blood. It was more black than red.

  I keened and cried, but I knew I could only indulge for a moment. I took shuddering breaths in and out loudly as I hacked and tore into my own body. Ripping out chunks of my flesh, then repairing what I had done to myself. I wailed and cried out at the pain.

  “I’m not going to kill, I’m not going to kill, I’m not going to kill,” I repeated my mantra as I whimpered. Snot and tears mixed with the smeared nearly black blood across my face and hands. I yanked out clumps of my hair and felt it grow back. “Please, don’t let me hurt anyone. Please, please, please,” I begged.

  I dry heaved and hiccuped past my sobs, afraid to look up from my gore soaked bed. I trembled with despair and doubt. I sniffled twice then slowly raised my eyes. This time I wept in relief. The room was finally clear of hukihuki.

  Rolling my head downward I took in the gruesome sight on my bed. Four of my fingers were sitting on a chunk of my thigh. A kneecap with stringy ligaments were to my left. Squinting in the low light I also recognised half m
y intestines and part of a rib.

  I couldn’t break down.

  Blood and vomit was everywhere. Flesh strewn like broken toys.

  “It’s ok. It’s ok,” I told myself, ignoring the tremble in my voice. I pulled hukihuki from my body and used it to lift and collect the bits of flesh. Looking down at the blood soaked mattress I did the same. This time using the hukihuki in me to strain every drop of blood up and out of the blankets and mattress.

  It all floated in a black and red blob of blood, vomit, meat, and bone above my bed. It should feel surreal but I had done this more than once now. I knew how to get rid of things like this. I felt my resolve waver. Hopelessness was fighting its way back to the surface.

  “Damnit, I’m a medic not a...,” I bit my lip at the old joke based on a classic science fiction series my friends and I used to love. Humour used to be my shield when things were dark. I bit my lip harder, trying not to give into the urge to break down.

  The hukihuki in the ghoulish floating blob compacted and crushed everything inside to mush. The dark red and black blob then gave off a low hum as I directed the energy to an excited state that turned everything within to ash. Using the last of my mental strength, I pushed all of that out the window and as far up into the atmosphere as I could.

  The winds would carry the ash of my body parts on them. My sacrifice, my gift to the Gods. I didn’t know what I was, but I knew no one else could be allowed to have pieces of me. I couldn’t fathom the consequences of someone using those pieces to control me, or worse, trying to duplicate what I had become. No, if any being tried to use any part of that ash they’d be stealing a given sacrifice. The Gods would deal with them.

  My eyes were itchy. I fell back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. I didn’t understand how I could heal myself or why. I couldn’t say with any certainty either that what was regenerated was a construct of hukihuki or flesh.