Light of Twilight (Witch Apocalypse, Book 3)

By Rivka Zohar

With a worldwide pandemic, 2024 is not the best year to fall in love... or is it?

Rich and famous shock rock star, Jadis Bellemet, may be victim to the witch coven, but he cannot seem to get the vintage-style burlesque dancer, Shine Ambrosia, out of his mind. With his family and loved ones falling mysteriously dead around him, he is afraid to jeopardize Shine’s life. No matter how much he wants her, he will do whatever it takes to keep her safe even if it means going to shocking lengths.

Excerpt from Light of Twilight:

“Shine thinks of her best friend, who is in love with and sort of seeing Jadis Bellemet, the lead singer of The Strollers shock rock band, and leans back in her chair, making some distance between them. But then, Jadis stands up with a cocky look on his handsome face. Shine wonders what he is doing. Is he leaving for the dressing room to prepare for the concert? It is due to start in about forty-five minutes. The idea of Jadis leaving tugs at her heart unexpectedly.
He stretches his arms over his head and back before slowly and somehow definitely strolling around the table behind Shine. What is he doing?

Her body tenses as she feels the heat of his presence behind her. She wants to look back to observe him, but instead she refrains and waits. Her body quivers as she feels his breath like a feather on her neck as he leans down and whispers in her ear, ‘I’m going to leave the dining room.’ The coolness of his minty, fresh breath sends a battlefield of tingling sensations through her body. ‘Excuse yourself to the bathroom and meet me at the side of the door.’

Her mind flustered, she feels a tinge of indecision. I can’t let him own me like this. But after a minute, with little contemplation, she leans over and interrupts Troy Ella who is still engaged in conversation with the drummer. ‘Excuse me for a moment. I have to use the restroom...’”

Review for Light of Darkness (Witch Apocalypse) original copy:

*****Five Stars***** "I received an arc copy... I was pulled into this futuristic world quickly and was surprised at all the unexpected turn of events. Once I started this book I was unable to put it down. I was captivated. Rivka Zohar has created such a powerful story with good vs evil, magic, danger, adventure, death and a budding romance. I will say this book does contain some descriptive deaths. I will be looking for book two in this amazing series. I would recommend this read!" *****Five Stars ***** Book Blogger Review of original copy

Light of Twilight is a Twilight-esque bad boy, shock rockstar romance set in 2024 at the hidden stages of a witch apocalypse with light horror and light science fiction. The romance is clean with some violence.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rivka Zohar
• Release date: Oct 20, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005379919

Rivka Zohar

Thank you for stopping by. Rivka Zohar appreciates your readership and hopes you have much success in your writing adventure.

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Light of Twilight (Witch Apocalypse, Book 1)

Copyright© 2021 by Rivka Zohar

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Light of Twilight

(Witch Apocalypse, Book 1)

Rivka Zohar

Copyright © 2021 by Rivka Zohar

All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to real people or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, things, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, persons, or things, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

***

Light of Twilight

(Witch Apocalypse, Book 1)

Rivka Zohar

*

Prologue

Absence of Light

The prologue is to my mothers, Mom, Linda, and Rifka

Thank you for reading and supporting my writing.

Prologue

2036

Digging his long brown fingers into his stiff dome of chocolate colored hair, Pop’s eyes are so wide I am afraid they might pop out of his head like blue and white marbles. Do you hear that song? my father asks Mum as she scrubs the vomit off my baby brother’s highchair in our apartment kitchen.

Whoa! I cough up red and green mucus mixed with old, dried bread into my small brown hand. Gross! Pushing my horn-rimmed glasses closer to my big, watery blue eyes, I continue to stare at my father.

My Ray Bradbury novel falls from my small brown fingers and catches in my long white hair as I notice something demonic looking about Pop as he paces the linoleum floor of the kitchen. It’s like there is a different energy exuding from him that is foul and foreign. And on top of that, I am wondering why it smells a little like sewage in here.

My throat tight, I untangle the old science fiction book from my hair as I watch Pop. A little foam has gathered at the sides of his thin lips. He wipes beads of perspiration off his pallid, round face. From malnutrition, his cheekbones look pronounced even more than usual, but that’s not really the difference that I am noticing, and his bushy dark eyebrows look knitted together. It’s not the impoverished Los Angeles life we live—it is something more.

I do not hear any music, my mother snaps, her teased brown curls hardly moving as she picks up Zip and pulls back the waist of his torn pajama pants to check if his wrap needs changing. I notice her thin collar bone protrudes from her simple sheath dress as she sniffs inside and complains to Pop, I only hear Vanille’s teacher lecturing in the room.

Eighth grade is the cockroaches, a real bam. I look across the short hall and see the left side of my instructor’s hologram. Oops, I mumble. I logged in but forgot the time. I do not want to leave the kitchen though because I am worried about Pop.

My father continues pacing, the edge of his bell-bottomed pants caught in his long lace up boots. The skin on my arms prickle at the sight of him. I cannot help but tremble at how his eyes bulge with seeming horror. The damn President of the United States was impeached this morning, he says in a strange, shaky voice that, also I have never heard his tone like this before. That team with all those reinventor gothic women are replacing him. We did not vote on it. No election. The rhythm of his voice rises through varying pitches as if his throat were a xylophone sounding with water running through it. He runs his hand over his neck as he shakes his head.

Why is he acting so weird?

Not seeming to give notice to Pop’s new oddness, Mom rinses the sponge in the sink as she bounces Zip on her delicate hip while he wines lightly. After the new Solar 49 permutations, the Unith has paved their way and are recommending everyone to have their mouths sewn shut, she says. They expect us to register with the meditricians and list ourselves for filter implants on the sides of our cheeks.

I bite my lip. Do we have to? I say to Mum in a somewhat high-pitched tone compared to my usual meek voice. I don’t want a feeding tube. Maybe because I am only twelve years old and kind of immature in some ways, I cannot imagine never eating a French fry again and even though it’s been years since I’ve eaten cheese, I dream of pizza.

Her coffee eyes widen as she looks at me and her black pupils move side to side as a code for no, I am guessing. From her expression and things she has said to us in the past, I wonder if we are about to run.

It’s an oldette, Pop says as he stops pacing suddenly and stares Mum in the eyes. Mind control. His thick boned body that used to look so strong and solid before the release of Solar 49 Virus on the world, is shaking in its frailty now.

What are you talking about? Mum sets the baby back in the highchair even though his whimpering has increased.

Do you feel any different? he asks Mum, his eyes burning with vigour.

Huh?

I notice something almost invisible, but not entirely see-through, fly past Pop’s round face. My heart pounds fast in my small-framed, flat chest. It’s kind of like a flying rat or maybe like a fat black cat.

Pop juts his chin back, but Mum does not seem to notice the transparent-like creature. It flew so fast and then it was gone. I wonder what it was. Maybe Pop saw it too, I am guessing. He is not okay.

Get to your class, Mum snaps at me as I stare at Pop.

I look at her and see the serious expression on her pretty, high cheek-boned, but pale face as she ruffly rakes her brown fingers through her brown curls.

My baby brother’s cries pull at my heart strings.

At once I get up from the table and set the crust of the rest of my dry bread on the highchair tray before Zip as I pass him with my novel still in my hand. He stops whimpering.

When I walk in the mostly bare room, as we sold our furniture, my instructor reprimands me. I expect you to be on time to class, Vanille Cossette, Mr. Xotikt says to me fussing with the tucks and bows on his slacks.

Maybe from a feeling of inner rebellion, I tap one of the keys on our piano that I begged my parents to not sell and look away from his thin holographic body. As I sit on the linoleum, I survey the holograms of the other students sitting on the floors or sofas of their rooms. Most of them are not paying attention to me as I am a wallflower, even though I have strange looks because of my ultra-long albino hair that contrasts so weirdly to my brown skin. You would think that might be enough to make them notice me, but they do not. I am a geek in their eyes, not worth their time. They don’t hate me or abuse me much like they do Pastina, the ultra-short girl with the drippy nose, but they do not seem to know I exist. My body has always been too skinny and awkward, even before the food shortage. I suppose my glasses do not help that much, but I like them because I can hide my thoughts behind the horn-rimmed frames and thick lenses.

Everybody attending the class looks hungry and tired, but some must be passing messages to each other because I hear snickers that are not directed at me. One boy, Edik Pardkat, who used to be popular and good at zep ball keeps grabbing the sides of his head. He does not seem to care about the other kids or even the instructor. It looks like he is lost in his own world.

For the rest of the class, I barely listen to Mr. Xotikt and find myself staring at Edik. He stops holding his head after a while, but it looks like he is whispering to someone. There does not seem to be another holograph who he is talking to. It is kind of like he is talking to himself.

The class is coming to an end. I memorize the writing assignment. This is an advanced class for gifted students even though most of the students do not act all that advanced in my opinion. We have to write all of our thoughts down for one half hour in rapid succession, as stream of consciousness, mark the time, and then transmit the writing to him tomorrow. Whoever writes the most, receives a chocolate bat from Lady Unith, he says in closing. Lady Unith are the gothic women leaders who are taking over for President Brandenvid. I do not believe anyone will really get chocolate. Nobody gets chocolate.

The apartment seems quiet. I pad back into the kitchen to check on Pop, not making much noise as I move because like I said, I am a very light, waify person. An uneasy feeling washes over me. Is everyone gone?

I step into the kitchen. The table is clear. Zip is not in his highchair as he was when I went into the room. Mum and Pop are both gone. I look around for a handwritten note because once the world governments started getting unstable, my parents started weaning off a lot of the energy devices. Rarely do they send energy messages to people anymore. I mean, they slip up a lot though. It’s not easy to quit when the whole world is energetized. I look over. No note on the counter. Goosebumps lift on my skinny arms. I don’t bother with the drawers because the power was cut from them a long time back. Nothing but beans, stale buns, and dried seeds in the hanging baskets.

Our apartment only has one room other than the kitchen. Mum and Pop do not just leave without telling me or at least leaving a note. Never. I trek down the short hall past the sparse room and peek in the toilet room. Nobody!

What happened to them? I feel the blood drawing from my face. They could not have run without me. Did someone kidnap them? My breath feels heavy in my chest like a cloud. I stand there in the hall trying to figure it out. My heart is beating much too fast beneath my ribs.

I know I am not allowed to leave the apartment without Mum or Pop. One time I left, and Mum beat me so hard I had a headache for two days. She’s not an abuser or anything like that. It is just with the stress of Solar 49 Virus and all the panic and the quarantining and the forced medical masks on the population, she has become more controlling. It’s like all these weird fears get at her and she loses herself. She says she does not believe in the new ways that the country is moving in. Mum has always been a sensitive person. I never can understand her really. It is like she has this whole hidden world inside her.

Maybe they wrote a note, and it blew out the window. I wonder about this. I head back into the kitchen and push over the white cotton curtains on the little window above the waterspouts. The glass pane is locked shut. A note from Mum and Pop could not have blown out.

They will return soon, I decide. No way did they run without me. It is not like they would abandon me.

My mind feels like it is spinning inside the way the propellors spin on the backs of the extreme sports enthusiasts who fly for the thrill of it. If my family were kidnapped, I would have heard the struggle over my instructor’s lecture.

The more I consider the possibilities, I realize they must have left on purpose because I would have heard them leave, yet I did not. I am an aware person. In the least, I would have heard the door shut as they exited. They must have snuck out of the apartment. It seems they did not want me to know they were leaving. My heart clenches as my ocean blue eyes, as Pop calls them, well up. Something about this abandonment seems familiar. It is like my heart hurts so much.

I lean my back against the wall by the little window. Just because Mum and Pop have never left before without telling me does not mean I will never see them again. Why am I so afraid? Why do I think I have lost them forever?

A tear rolls down my brown cheek. It seems like I have always had a fear of abandonment. I wonder why I am such a freak. I must be paranoid. Gotta just wait it out. They will be back soon.

*

Sitting before our white grand piano, I sing a sad, haunting song as I play. No one in my family is musical but me. Mum used to say my so-called talent is some sort of anomaly like my albino hair. I do not know how I know this song. It is just soooo familiar and it makes me feel loved for some strange reason. The song is about the sky and about flying. I dream of being able to fly. It seems like I should be able to fly.

It is almost night, and I should try to go to sleep. But I cannot. Two days have passed since my family left. During the daylight, I continue on with my eighth-grade classes and do not tell the teacher that Mum, Pop, and Zip are gone. Both nights so far when the sun goes down and the apartment is all dark and quiet, I cannot stop crying as I lie on our blankets on the floor. I try to subdue my wailing so that I do not alert the neighbors. Mum and Pop are going to come back for me. If I were to make too much noise, the neighbors might alert the new government. I do not know what this new Unith organization might do with an abandoned kid. In the old government, I heard they put kids in the foster system. From what Pop says, this new government wants to exterminate the population. Our neighbors probably don’t think the way Pop does. Like Mr. Xotikt, they probably believe the lies.

I head into the kitchen and fill a pot with water. Our hot water system does not work anymore, so I set the pot on the stove and add some beans that I soaked all day like Mum does. Beans take a long time to cook, and I am hungry now. Yesterday I finished off all the dried buns we had.

My stomach is growling though, so I grab a handful of seeds and sit down at the table. I am not sure what kinds of seeds these are. It’s some type of mixture and they taste overly roasted, almost burnt.

I am not sure what I should do once the beans and seeds run out. Last night I searched the apartment for jewelry to sell in case they never come back for me, but oddly, all of Mum’s jewelry is gone. She used to let me try it on sometimes and wear it around the house for fun. I wonder where it went.

Pop sometimes has gold coins that he uses to buy food and supplies. Before the release of the Solar 49 Virus on the world, both Mum and Pop bought everything electronically. They said before I was born people used paper money and coins to buy things, but then the entire world switched over to Webcoin. Now Pop does not want his money tracked, so he has some trouble buying things.

Making my way out of the kitchen, I leave the beans to simmer through some of the night. Hopefully, I will wake up around midnight to turn off the heat. I do not expect to sleep anyway because I have barely been able to sleep the previous two days and I expect the same for this night.

I lay down on the floor beside our piano and wrap the blanket around my waify body. Images of Zip come into my mind. He is such a cute baby boy. His hair is real thin and a mix of chocolate brown like Pop’s and regular brown like Mum’s. We all have brown skin, but mine is browner than theirs. I hope Zip is happy. It surprises me how much I miss him. I feel a pinch in my heart and decide to try not to think about my family tonight.

My eyes well up