Of the Dark

By Curtis L. Alcutt

Millions of years ago, the beloved daughter of a powerful sorceress is brutally murdered. Naturally devastated, Asase sells her soul to the Dark. In exchange, she receives the power to carry on an eternal curse on mankind. Now in present day, Asase possesses the body of mousy Oakland museum curator, Xylia Christian.

Asase, or Xylia as she is known in the mortal world, is busy immersing earth in unholy darkness. If she succeeds, mankind will suffer her wrath forever. While leading a legion of bloodthirsty, cannibalistic ghouls, she races against the clock to stop the only thing standing in her waya resurrected old man, Virgil Bodine. Accompanied by his ageless owl companion, Betoto, and a hulking stone guardian, Virgil advances from the east coast. As he fights his way through unimaginable horrors in an attempt to achieve the greater good, his mission seems all but impossible, until their paths finally collide and the fate of mankind is decided.

In this fantastical adventure, a resurrected old man sets out on a dangerous quest to stop a cursed demonic sorceress from carrying out her mission to butcher and destroy mankind.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Dec 30, 2016
• ISBN: 9781480840256

Curtis L. Alcutt

Curtis Alcutt is the author of the critically acclaimed debut Dyme Hit List, which was followed by the intense, steamy novel Bullets & Ballads. He is a contributing author to Zane’s bestselling erotica anthology Caramel Flava with “Not Tonight.” His heated short story “Drastic Measures” was featured in the erotic anthology After Dark Delights in 2009. Besides being a prolific writer, Curtis is the president of the literary foundation WriteWay2Freedom. His organization also published the self-help book Your Roadmap to a Book. Visit him online at WriteWay2Freedom.com and CurtisAlcutt.com.

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Copyright © 2016 Curtis L Alcutt.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Archway Publishing

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Bloomington, IN 47403

www.archwaypublishing.com

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-4808-4024-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4808-4025-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016919259

Archway Publishing rev. date: 12/14/2016

CONTENTS

Dedication

Prologue

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

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Epilogue

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to my best friend, muse and loveable whip-cracker, my sweet Gypsy, Toni Vaughn.

PROLOGUE

Over a million years before the first pyramids were built, Eyorah, queen of the ancient continent of Atlantis, glared at the partially mummified body of her beautiful former servant, Merti. She was the same woman who had bitten into the throat of her husband, the late King Jharill, and drained the blood from his body. You will never again torture another living soul, you merciless she-devil, Eyorah whispered, her gray eyes full of tears.

Her high priestess, the powerful sorceress Ninti, and five of her apprentices, hastily wrapped the shapely, coffee-colored woman. Inside a small, unmarked pyramid, two nervous apprentices, using the complex language of the Atlanteans, etched a message onto the stone walls and lid of the sarcophagus. They paused and steadied themselves as one of the regularly occurring earthquakes subsided. The message warned of the horrendous consequences that would befall the world if the evil and powerful demon, Asase, who occupied the servant Merti’s body, was ever freed from her spectral prison.

The sheer black veil over Ninti’s face moved with each breath she took. Like an avalanche of snow, her long white hair cascaded down her back. Although no one knew exactly how old she was, it was rumored that every royal family in recorded Atlantean history employed a mystical high priestess, and they all were remarkably similar to Ninti. Although very unconvincing, Ninti continued to deny she was the same high priestess.

The process is almost complete, my queen. Ninti reached into the purple silk bag resting on Merti’s mummy-wrapped midsection, pulled out a large, dead, red and yellow, ten-legged beetle, and showed it to Queen Eyorah. Narcatine beetles have a very special power.

Setting the beetle on Merti’s forehead, Ninti removed a pair of gold tongs from the same silk bag that held the beetle and used them to pry open Merti’s mouth.

Queen Eyorah gasped, removed the jewel-encrusted, curved dagger from the red sash around her waist, and took a step backward. Weapons drawn, the guards aimed at the corpse. Her teeth … Fading blood stains coated her bright white teeth. The incisors and bicuspids were menacingly sharp. Bits of flesh still clung to them—the king’s flesh.

Not to worry, my queen, Ninti pointed her long finger at Merti’s face. The Ya-Wegh wood shavings I placed in her nose, ears, and inside her sarcophagus will help prevent the demon inside her from escaping. Besides that, the hard shell of the Narcatine beetle has the same taste as human blood. Placing one in the demon’s mouth will satisfy its blood lust and paralyze the body as long as it remains in the mouth. The body of a Narcatine beetle never withers; it remains fresh for eons. Smirking under her veil, she looked at the guards. Your weapons are useless here. You can’t kill a spirit as malevolent as this; you can only hope to contain it."

The queen wiped her three-foot-long, gray-streaked ponytail off her shoulder. I still don’t see why you insisted we not destroy this worthless piece of evil.

If we simply killed the body, the demon spirit inside would escape—free to possess another body. We must count our blessings to have found her secret resting place.

My family and I can’t thank you enough for tracking this filth down. You will be well rewarded for your service.

Nodding, Ninti replied, Ase, my queen.

Let us leave this accursed grave. I must get back to the palace and prepare for the king’s journey into the afterlife.

We are almost done, my queen. First, we must prepare the guardian.

Ninti then snapped her fingers. Moments later, two of her bulky apprentices emerged from an adjoining room in the tomb. They wheeled out a clay statue on a long cart. The figure was just as brawny and tall as the queen’s guards.

Taken by the startlingly lifelike figure, Eyorah walked over to it. The statue stood on muscular legs. Its eyes were closed and mouth partially open. The craftsmanship was exceptional. Even the coarse Atlantean-like hair, broad nose, veins running over its neck, and muscled biceps and forearms were realistically depicted. Pure gold hoop earrings pierced its ears. A thick gold chain with a dangling Ankh-like medallion hung from its neck. The spear it held was made of the magical Ya-Wegh wood. A pouch was strapped diagonally across its broad chest.

Turning to Ninti, she asked, What’s the purpose of this … thing?

This is no ‘thing’; it’s a Goluum. Ninti walked over to Merti’s body, pulled a small gold dagger out of the purple bag, and walked back toward the statue. It is molded from clay from the banks of the Mount Krin River, which is filtered by the protective power of the roots of the Ya-Wegh trees.

Eyorah furrowed her brow. What in Ki-gal can that clay statue possibly guard?

With all due respect, my queen, you once again let your belief in technology blind you to the ways of the universe, Ninti replied.

Opening her hand, Ninti made an inch-long incision in her right index finger. Using her bloody finger, she drew three strange symbols on the goluum’s forehead. After whispering a long incantation, she placed her bloody finger in the goluum’s mouth.

Blown by a phantom breeze, all the torches were extinguished.

Circle the queen! one of the guards yelled.

Seconds later, the torches relit, on their own.

Ninti looked into the eyes of the queen. My work here is now done.

Working her way from behind her guards, Eyorah glared at the mystic. What just happened?

Ninti placed her finger under her veil and into her mouth. She then took it out and pointed her now, fully healed finger, at the goluum. Even the good spirits sometimes prefer to move in the darkness, my queen.

Following Ninti’s finger with her eyes, Eyorah gasped. The eyes of the goluum were now open and the mouth closed. At that moment, the tectonic plates beneath Atlantis shifted and broke apart. The twin, gigantic, super volcanoes that sat under the center of the continent erupted. The ensuing three straight hours of twenty-plus magnitude earthquakes ground the entire continent of Atlantis down to a memory. All the advanced technology and secrets they had amassed were lost in a single night.

Damaged by the devastating quakes, Merti’s tomb broke apart, freeing her buoyant sarcophagus. The Ya-Wegh wood casket floated to the surface and rode the monstrous tidal waves unleashed by the earthquakes. It floated for months before washing up into a shoreline cave thousands of miles away. It sat undiscovered for thousands of centuries.

Until …

1

Present day

Farallon Islands

San Francisco, California coastline

"I swear I’m gonna jab myself in the neck with this fillet knife if Peggy ever asks me to go with her to another freaking ballet, Charlie Goings said to the two other men in his boat. I must’ve fallen asleep a hundred times during that bore-fest."

Richard Fong, his friend, laughed loudly while impaling a Ghost Shrimp with a stainless steel fishhook. That’s bullshit! I bet you were on the edge of your seat watching those ballet dudes flitter around in their tights.

Dave York’s shaggy blond hair flapped in the cold breeze. Bending over, he got a cold beer out of the large red ice chest on the floor of the boat. He chuckled before opening the can. "It wasn’t simply a ballet, my friend. That was the Nutcracker, an American classic. Your uncouth ass could stand a little culture."

Showing both his friends his middle finger, Charlie replied, "Here, I have one for you and you." He then stood and cast his line into the cold, greenish-blue water.

They had the entire west side of the Farallon’s to themselves. Not many would have been brave enough or skilled enough to handle the cold, rough winter waters they fished upon that day. Luckily for the trio, they had fished those waters for years.

Charlie sat his pole in a pole holder and got himself a beer. Whatever. Both of you asses are welcome to take my place—and that witch-bitch wife of mine.

Picking up his binoculars, Richard chuckled as he scanned the water for whales. No way, buddy. You are my inspiration to stay single!

Squinting, Dave sat his beer down and pointed to one of the small, rocky land masses that made up the Farallon islands. Hey, Charlie, is that a hole in the side of that cliff?

Wiping a spray of salt water off his face, Charlie took a long swallow of beer. Looks like it.

Hey, Richard, check out the bottom of that cliff to your left. Is that a cave opening?

I’ll take a look. Richard used his hi-tech binoculars to zoom in on the dark opening. Yeah, looks like it. I don’t remember seeing it before.

Let me see. Dave gestured for the binoculars, took them, and studied the hole and surrounding land. The ground around the hole was covered in seaweed. It looks like it’s just below the high tide line. That would explain why after fishing here for so long we have never noticed it.

He picked up his beer and smirked at Charlie.

"And it’s just our luck Captain Charlie read the tide chart wrong and got us out here at low tide."

Kiss my ass, Charlie said as he opened another beer.

A seagull screeched at them from a birdcrap-covered boulder on the shore. A dozen more circled overhead in the overcast sky.

Richard finished his beer and looked at Dave. "So what you think? You guys wanna go check it out? At least that way, we can get something out of this trip since the fishing sucks today thanks to Charlie."

After a long belch, Charlie flipped off both his friends again. What-the-hell-ever, assholes. He fired up the boat engine. Pull up the anchor and let’s go check it out.

Ten minutes later, they arrived at the shore of the small island. Seals barked at them from the rocky shoreline. A noisy seagull added a chorus, as if warning them to keep away. The island looked as though it had never been walked on before. Thousands of bleached seashells littered the landscape. A large piece of driftwood pointed like a skeletal hand toward the cave.

Dave hopped out and grabbed the anchor. I’ll tie us off on one of these dead trees.

Drizzled in sudden jumpiness, Richard scanned the beach. "Hey, Charlie, check it out; all the trees here are dead."

After killing the engine, Charlie gazed at the lifeless shoreline. Yeah … that’s kinda weird. He then slapped Richard on the back. But then, ain’t no landscapers out here takin’ care of them.

Upon exiting the boat, all three men examined the shore. Dave bent over and picked up a dry, white crab shell. I have never seen this much dead stuff on one of these islands.

You guys goin’ pussy on me or what? First, it’s Richard and the trees, and now you’re worried about some goddamn shells. Let’s go see what’s up with this cave, Charlie said as he walked past him, crunching the shells under his feet.

Dave followed Charlie toward the opening. Hey, did you notice how quiet it is here now?

Bringing up the rear, Richard stopped and looked behind them. All the seagulls had flown away and the last of the seals dived into the water. The only sound left was the crash of waves on the rocky shore and the crunch of shells under their feet. I guess the tenants here don’t like visitors.

As dark as the entrance to Hell, the jagged cave opening stood in front of the men. It opened like the mouth of an alien being. A trail of seaweed, sand, and dead seashells led into the cavern. Charlie walked closer and peeked inside. It’s as dark as my mother-in-law’s heart in there. We’re gonna need some light.

Neither Dave nor Richard shared Charlie’s enthusiasm.

Dave wiped his hair out of his face. You sure about this? These caves can be dangerous. You never know where they go or if there’s a steep drop off hidden somewhere inside.

"I can see Richard being a chicken-shit, but you, Dave? Charlie chuckled as he brushed past his friends. I’ll bring each of you girls your own flashlight. How about that?"

This time, Richard and Dave flashed Charlie the middle finger salute.

Richard looked out at the ominously dark clouds on the horizon. Just hurry up, butt-pirate! That storm is gonna be on our ass pretty soon.

2

Damn, glad this is the last tour group of the day, Midas Sands thought as he removed his security guard cap and scratched his vanilla-wafer-colored bald head.

Being a rent-a-cop wasn’t his career of choice. However, after getting kicked out of the police academy for blacking the eye of one of his instructors just a month before graduation, he didn’t have much of a choice. Without sufficient evidence to prove the instructor had groped and made homosexual advances at him, his attorney suggested he accept being kicked out of the program. He was put on probation in lieu of doing time. In the aftermath, he had to settle for his current boring job.

The cold weather and approaching storm were one reason for the low turnout, but the King Tutankhamen exhibit, currently running in San Francisco, had definitely cut into the Oakland museums numbers. Midas perked up as Museum Director and Head Curator, Xylia Christian, exited the elevator.

I likes that cinnamon-colored sista, the twenty-eight-year-old guard thought. She ain’t the finest woman workin’ here, but somethin’ about that nerdy chick is hot as hell! Sure wouldn’t hurt if she did somethin’ about that patch of acne on the side of her face.

Rising from his seat behind the security desk, he adjusted his utility belt and smiled at the prudish woman. Wassup, Dr. Christian?

She looked up from the copy of Curated Magazine she was reading. Her inquisitive brown eyes peeked at him from behind her rimless, designer eyeglasses. I told you never call me ‘doctor’. Xylia will do just fine. What’s up with you, Midas?

Over a foot taller than Xylia, Midas looked down at the no-nonsense woman and chuckled. You was so deep into whatever you’re readin’, I’m surprised you even heard me say your name.

The unstylish, cream-colored knit sweater she wore over her sensible, dark-blue business suit made her look fifty instead of her true age of forty. She exhaled loudly and laid the magazine on the security counter. Opening it to the special King Tut Alive and Well in San Francisco! article, she tapped it with her unpolished index finger.

"This is why I was so oblivious. That King Tutankhamen exhibit was supposed to be here! I petitioned to have it here in Oakland a full year before those butt-heads across the Bay even knew there was going to be a King Tutankhamen tour!"

Midas’s diamond stud earring sparkled as he grinned at the frustrated nerd. It was the first time he had ever seen her that emotional. "Wha? They did you like that?"

Pulling an ink pen out of the tight bun of hair on the back of her head, she circled a paragraph breaking down the details of the profitability of hosting King Tut. This is why I’m so angered. We could do wonders with those kinds of prof—

Having been caught staring at her impressive cleavage, he shifted his eyes to the article too late. Yeah … they shoulda let you do the, uhhh, King Tut thing here.

After pulling her blouse closed, she picked up the magazine, stuck the pen back in her hair, and pulled her sweater closed. "Thanks for listening, Midas."

3

Here you go, ladies, Charlie said as he handed Dave and Richard flashlights. Now, let’s go see if this hole has anything in it.

Even though it was early afternoon, the approaching storm clouds sucked almost all the daylight out the sky. The blustering wind was a harbinger of the brewing bad weather. Charlie, being the Alpha Dog of the group, took the lead. Even he, underneath his cape of calm, felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise as he entered the cave.

Dave shined his flashlight on the ground. Everything in here is just as dead as outside … even the seaweed.

Training his light on the walls, Richard replied, Yeah … no signs of life at all, not even a barnacle.

Walking ahead of his friends, something reflected Charlie’s flashlight beam back to him. What the hell? Hey, guys! Check this out.

Walking over to Charlie, Richard and Dave added their flashlight beams to the object. "What the heck is that?" Richard wondered as a flash of gold bounced back at him.

The men could almost hear each other’s racing heart beats in the cryptic silence of the cave. The crashing waves outside sounded as though they were miles away.

Charlie shined his light on Dave and Richard. Well? Let’s go see what it is.

For a group that was looking at what could be a treasure, they moved with dread instead of glee.

Dave took a deep breath and let it out. Okay, let’s hurry up. Remember that storm is almost here.

As the men closed in on the object, they found themselves ankle deep in dead crabs, mollusks, and fish. The seaweed stopped growing several feet away from the object.

Holy shit! Richard said as he arrived at the six-foot-long, wooden, black box. Is this a treasure chest?

Excitement filled Charlie’s voice. I’ll be damned! After all my years dreaming of something like this … He reached out and rubbed the smooth surface. "I have never seen this kind of wood."

Dave shined his light on the lid. Wow! There appears to be hieroglyphics carved into this thing! His light traveled to a large gold padlock in the middle of the box. After further examination, he found two more—one on each end. Have you guys ever seen locks like these? They look to be … solid gold.

Excited, Richard grabbed one of the strange locks and lifted it. Wow! This does feels like solid gol—

A deep, baritone growl surrounded them.

"What was that?" Richard asked, letting go of the lock.

Shrugging it off, Charlie continued. Probably just a big wave crashing against the rocks.

Half-heartedly agreeing with Charlie, Dave replied, Yeah … maybe it was that … just a wave …

Light held out to Richard, Charlie said, Here, hold this for me. He then squatted and tried to lift the box. It has a little weight to it, boys. I say we haul this son-of-a-bitch out of here and see what’s in it.

Dave shook his head. Dude, do you realize this could be a serious archaeological find? I bet every museum on the planet would want it. We should just leave it here, contact the authorities, and let them take care of it.

Both Richard and Charlie shined their lights on him and laughed. Richard tapped the lid of the box. "Are you out of your mind? This could be our Gold Ticket! If somebody took the time to put solid gold padlocks on this thing, you can just imagine what kind of treasure is on the inside! I’m with Charlie; I say we take this fucker home and open it up!"

Nodding, Charlie agreed. Hell yeah! And, Dave, since you live alone and have a garage, I vote we take it to your house so we can do this in private. I can back my boat all the way inside so no one will even know we are unloading it. We then pull the boat out, close the door, and bust this bad-boy open!

Outnumbered, Dave reluctantly gave in. Okay … but let it be known that I think this is a bad idea.

Charlie slapped him on the back. If you feel that bad, why don’t you just donate your cut of the loot to me and Richard?

Dave smirked. I feel guilty, not crazy!

Anxious to leave, Richard hurried and got behind the black box. What the fuck you guys waiting for? Help me lift this thing and carry it back to the boat!

Another low growl sounded as they lifted the sarcophagus.

Amen, Charlie said as shells crunched beneath their shoes. Let’s hurry up and get off this dead rock.

4

A lot of help that horny jerk was, Xylia thought. She entered the cafeteria and purchased a banana, bag of white popcorn, and a bottled water. After taking a seat at one of the circular tables, she flipped open the magazine and went back to the King Tutankhamen article. I have to find some way to get the crowds back here. Have to find a way to outdraw King Tut.

As the last group exited the museum, the lights in the cafeteria blinked indicating it was also closing time for them. Gathering up her items, she headed back to her basement office. Even though the museum closed at five for the general public, she still had four hours to go. After fifteen years on the job, she had grown accustomed to twelve-hour workdays. Walking past the front doors, a bright flash of lightning, followed by an explosive blast of thunder, startled her.

Wow! This is some highly unusual weather for the Bay Area! the elderly gift shop cashier, Mildred, said as she locked the gift shop doors.

Yes … very unusual, Xylia watched grape-sized hail ricochet off the cars, buildings, and sidewalks outside. A volley of lightning strikes filled the air. The ensuing thunder set off several car alarms. Xylia turned to the aging Caucasian woman. "You be careful out there. We can’t afford to have anything happen to our Gift Granny."

There was plenty of life left in the plump, kind cashier’s ice-blue eyes. After buttoning up her tan overcoat, she smiled. "Just for you, honey, I will make sure I’m extra careful. I’ll see you tomorrow, Xylia."

An aggressive blast of cold air bum-rushed the lobby as Mildred fought to open her umbrella. Midas moved around his desk and walked over to assist her. Xylia avoided Midas’s attempted eye contact and continued walking to her office.

5

"Slow this thing down! Richard yelled as Charlie sped toward shore. You’re gonna bounce us and this treasure chest out the boat!"

The boat bounced over another wave as Charlie wrestled to maintain control. Just hang on, woman. We’re damn near back at the dock. Just make sure you and your girlfriend, there hold on to our black box.

Yelling to be heard over the roar of the