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  TOUCH OF DARKNESS

  by ML Guida

  Chapter One

  “You’re dying. The cancer has gone into your bone marrow.” Dr. Havens sat on his stool, then shut his chart like a prison door.

  Donald Elliott rubbed his sweating forehead and struggled to breathe, the antiseptic stench nearly choking him. The paper gown stuck to his slick skin. “Are you sure? The treatments, the medications…”

  Dr. Havens shook his head. His thick spiky gray hair made him look like a mad scientist. “I’m sorry, Donald, but they’re not working.”

  Donald’s heart beat harder and blood pumped through him. Heat rushed over his face. He threw up his hands. “That’s it. I die? I’m only twenty-six years old.” He broke out into a loud hacking, his lungs rattling. God, he was so tired of it. He should be out playing football or shooting golf like he had in high school–not holed up in his house sweating and losing weight as if he was an anorexic.

  “I know.” The doctor’s voice thickened, and he hung his head. “But there are very little treatments for stage IV Non Hodgkins Lymphoma. If only we would have discovered it sooner.”

  “So, then what do I do now? Curl up and wait to die?” Bitterness swirled in his gut.

  “I can refer you to the Cancer Treatment Center in New Mexico. They’ve had good luck in treating Non Hodgkins.”

  Donald ripped off his gown and reached for his suit. “I thought you were supposed to be the best. I spent enough money here, doing all your damn experiments.”

  Dr. Havens straightened and pushed his wire glasses back on his beak nose. “I am the best. My team and I have done everything we can.”

  Donald gritted his teeth. “Your best hasn’t been good enough.”

  The good doctor winced as if Donald hit him.

  “Tell me, Doc. What are the chances that this place can cure me?”

  Dr. Havens raised his head slowly. “I can’t promise they’ll cure you, but they’ve had some luck in curing four stages cancers.” He looked everywhere but at Donald. He opened his jacket and gave him a business card.

  Donald yanked the card out of his hand and stuffed into his jacket.

  “I’ll make a referral,” the doctor said softly.

  “You do that,” Donald growled. He walked out and slammed the door shut.

  Traditional medicine wasn’t doing a hill worth of beans for him. He’d another card that a woman gave him who was supposedly psychic. She pleaded with him not to use it unless all other avenues hit dead ends. Well, all other resources just dried up.

  ***

  Donald’s limo driver pulled up in front of a shady-looking Victorian home in North Denver. This was not the part of town he usually set foot in. Cherry Creek, Aspen, and South Denver were his cup of tea, not anyplace where ten thugs could jump him.

  His limo driver James got out of the car and opened the door. Donald got out and straightened his suit. He brushed past James as he headed up the stairs. The only sign on the door that indicated it was a business said come in, but the font reminded him of something out of the Addams Family. He opened the door expecting to find Lurch, but instead walked into New Orleans.

  Bright red, purple, and pink walls surrounded him. Beads dangled across the doorway into another room. Voodoo dolls were lined up neatly on one shelf. Below it were bottles of herbs. A third shelf had spell books. Only one of the shelves had any paraphernalia on it. The psychic hadn’t mentioned this was a store.

  “Good afternoon, Donald,” a velvety voice greeted him.

  He jerked his head. A young woman had a brightly yellow, red, and orange dhuku wrapped around her head. Large gold earrings dangled from her ears, but it was her dark eyes that drew him to her. It was if she could read his soul.

  A knot formed in his belly. He narrowed his eyes. “How did you know my name?”

  She gave him a chilling gaze. “I’ve been expecting you. My name’s Madame Mthunzi.” She gestured with her arm toward the hallway. “Shall we?”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “Shall we what?”

  “Why, find a cure for your cancer?” She edged closer, forcing him to step back. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it.”

  “Linda Beck called you–the psychic.”

  She shook her head. “No. Someone else will be coming soon. Do you want my help or not? My time is precious and…expensive.”

  He raised his eyebrow, looking around the room that was in need of a definite upgrade.

  “Don’t be a fool, Donald. This isn’t where I live. I don’t mix business with pleasure. Have you decided?”

  Another wheezing attack gripped him. Tears filled his eyes and pain tore at his lungs. “Yes…yes.”

  She straightened and turned her back. “Follow me.”

  He didn’t have any choice but to follow. He took a handkerchief and wiped the spittle from his lips. This was ridiculous. He shouldn’t have this disease. He was Donald Elliott––young, vibrant, powerful–not some old man in a nursing home.

  Madame Mthunzi led him into a darkened room with a small table, two chairs, and a candle inside a skull that was glittering. Shades covered the windows. She pointed to one of the wooden chairs. “Sit.”

  He rolled his eyes, not believing he was forced to come to such gibberish.

  She shut the door and the candle flickered, casting shadows on the wall. That’s when he noticed there were strange markings, which couldn’t be good.

  She sat across from him. “As I told you before, I’m not cheap.”

  He glared. “How much?”

  “Fifty thousand dollars.”

  He gripped the edge of the table tightly. “You’re joking?”

  She shrugged. “No, I’m not.” She lowered her voice. “I know a way to cure you, but it’s dangerous.”

  He lowered his hands. “For who?”

  “For both of us.” She tilted her head. “That’s why there are wards on the wall to blind their magic.”

  “Whose magic?”

  She smiled sweetly. “Not until I get my money.”

  “I’ll get it to you later––if this works.”

  “Sorry, it doesn’t work that way.” She pulled a cell phone out of from underneath the table, which had a magstripe reader to swipe credit cards. “Pay now, or forget it and die.”

  He met her haughty gaze, and his gut tensed. Fifty thousands wasn’t a problem, but he didn’t like being bamboozled, either. “How do I know you’re not lying to me?”

  “You don’t.”

  Pain ripped through his chest and sweat glistened down his temples. Crap, he didn’t have a choice. He slowly took out his debit card then slid it through the slot. “This better work.”

  She took the phone and slid her finger across it. “I’m giving you the information. It will be up to you to make the information work.”

  “What?” he growled and slowly stood, ready to rip the phone out of her hand. “I just paid fifty thousand dollars for double-talk.”

  She tilted her chin high. “No. You paid for a cure. I’m giving it to you.” She snapped her fingers and pointed toward his chair. “Now, sit.”

  Not having any other choice, he slumped back in his chair. She was despicable for preying on his desperation.

  “Good.” She closed her eyes and m
oved her palm over the skull. “Spirits of the dead, open the veil, and show us what you know. I command you.”

  The candle burned brighter, then what looked like a curtain opened on the opposite wall and a movie started to play.

  “Hey, what is this?” Donald clasped the arm of the chair tightly and scanned the room for a movie projector.

  “Watch and learn,” Madame Mthunzi said.

  Donald glared at her, but then looked at the screen. A desert town unfolded. The sun set behind the rugged mountains, turning the clouds purple, pink, and orange. With the beautiful sunset and adobe homes and buildings, it reminded him of Sante Fe.

  “This is the town of Magic.”

  “Never heard of it.”

  “No, you wouldn’t. They keep themselves hidden.”

  The view centered on an adobe home on a ridge. Bushy bougainvillea climbed up one wall of the house and formed an umbrella of shade over the porch. A beautiful dark-haired woman sat on a swing, watching the sunset. She had the most mysterious golden eyes he’d ever seen. “Who is she?”

  “Her name is Gwendolyn Bravian, and she’s now married to the Sheriff of New Mexico.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Theo. He doesn’t actually have a last name, but he took one for his wife, Gwen.”

  “So, why am I being shown this?” He clenched his fist. “Like I give a shit.”

  “Because she’s your target.”

  He stiffened. “Excuse me?”

  “She’s pregnant.”

  He leaned back in his chair and scowled. “So?”

  “With a dragon.”

  He blinked, not sure he heard her right. “With what?”

  “A dragon.”

  He sat up straighter. “Are you high?”

  She pointed at the wall. “No. See.”

  Sure enough, a huge yellow and orange dragon landed in front of the house, then transformed into a man wearing a white cowboy hat and wearing a sheriff’s uniform. Gwen ran over and wrapped her arms around the man’s neck, then kissed him. “This has to be some kind of cheesy Hollywood movie.”

  “I assure you, Donald, it’s not. She’s carrying the cure for your illness.”

  “Explain.”

  “Dragons carry a great deal of magic. One of their properties is healing. They’re the most potent when their in utero. If you drink her blood––all of it––you’ll be healed.”

  He wrinkled his nose. “All of her blood?”

  “Yes, your cancer is advanced. Within a month, you’ll be dead. Only the dragon’s blood can heal you. However, only drink it when it’s a full moon. This is when the baby’s power is the most potent.”

  “How do I know this isn’t bullshit?”

  “I’ve given you what you asked, but there’s one more thing. I also need to make you a potion so you can enter Magic. The good witches have put a shield over their little town to keep evil out.” Her brown eyes turned completely black. “But I have found a way to penetrate their magic. I will also provide you with a book of spells to ward off vampires and witches. You’ll also need silver bullets.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “There are shape-shifters and werewolves. Don’t you know the lore?”

  He scooted the chair back and screeched across the floor. “Why are you doing this?”

  “I tried to get into Magic and they turned me away. Now, I’ll show them what happens when they cross Madame Mthunzi.”

  Chapter Two

  Gwen looked into her husband’s beautiful eyes and slowly unwound her arms from his thick neck. “How was your day?”

  “Uneventful except for the twins playing tricks on Topper. They put Larry underneath one of her hats so when she put it on, she got a big surprise.”

  She laughed. “Now that’s not very smart. Topper’s liable to turn both of those boys into flies, so Larry could eat them.”

  “No, she’d never do that. She loves those two rascals.” He put his hand on her belly as his tone turned serious. “How are you doing?”

  “Fine. The baby’s been active today.” She linked her arm through his. “I just donna know if this is normal.”

  “Why? Based on my research, mothers can feel their babies move the first thirteen and sixteen weeks. It’s called a flutter.”

  Ever since Theo found out she was pregnant, he’d been obsessed reading baby books, but those were human babies. This was half dragon and half human. “I’m only thirteen weeks along. Besides, I donna know what’s normal for a dragon baby.”

  He clutched her shoulders, his thumbs caressing her. “I know. I don’t either. We’ll do this together. I promise I’ll not let anything happen to you or our child. You’re my whole world.”

  She hugged him, needing to listen to his thumping heart. “And you’re mine.” She sighed heavily and tears welled in the back of her eyes.

  He rubbed her back. “You’re thinking of your brother and sister again, aren’t you?”

  She swallowed to keep from bawling. Another thing with this pregnancy, every two minutes she wanted to burst into tears. Pregnant women were emotional, but this seemed over the top. “I canna help it. I miss them so much.”

  He kissed the top of her head. “I know. Speaking of Topper, she’s coming over tonight.”

  She lifted her head. “She is? Why?”

  He flashed her a smile that always melted her heart. “She has a surprise for you.”

  “What is it?”

  “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?”

  She kissed him briefly on the lips. “Did I ever tell you that you’re impossible?”

  He held her closer and bent his head, his warm breath brushing over her cheeks. “Did I ever tell you how much I love you?”

  She parted her lips, and he immediately speared his tongue in her mouth. Her heart pounded wildly as he possessed her. She clutched his shoulders tightly. Theo was her whole life and she couldn’t bear to be parted from him, but that didn’t mean she didn’t miss Leif and Grace. After their parents had died, they only had each other. She didn’t even know if they were alive.

  She pressed her body against his muscular one, drawing on his strength. His warmth took away the chill she felt which always made her feel safe in his arms. The baby fluttered inside her stomach and she gasped. “Theo?”

  “What?” he asked huskily.

  “The baby moved.” She took his hand and put it her over her belly.

  His eyes widened. “I can feel the movement! Do you think the baby was upset over our kissing?”

  She laughed. “No, you eejit. But soon we wonna be able to have sex.” She clasped his hand and led him toward the house. “So, I think we should finish what we started.”

  “Your wish is my command.”

  In their bedroom, she stripped off her clothes. Theo watched her with a lusty gaze.

  “I can never stop admiring how beautiful you are,” he said.

  She lay down on the bed, enjoying watching him unbuttoning his shirt and slowly taking off his pants. He climbed onto the bed and licked and kissed his way up one leg, his calloused finger tips caressing her flesh. The rough stubble on his jaw abraded her flesh. Her limbs and belly quivered with involuntary spasms, and her first orgasm peaked on the horizon.

  When he reached the juncture between her thighs, he blew on her curls. The heat of his breath took hers away. He nestled his stubble jaw between her trembling thighs. Tingles glossed over her as she held her breath for the pleasure only he could give her. When he slipped his tongue inside her, she arched off the bed and dug her nails into his broad shoulders. He licked and kissed, feasting on her until she shook, twisting her head side-to-side. A shudder whooshed up her spine and her pulse raced, sending blood down to her core. Gwen spread out her arms, then gasped and gripped the sheets tight. Sweet, shimmers rippled through her body. The skin across her chest tightened and her nipples budded. An orgasm built up inside her, flooding her body with need and warmth.

  “Theo!
”

  He chuckled. “You’re almost there, my sweet.”

  Her heart drummed in her chest, and she bunched up the sheets tight in her fists.

  He left her core and used his tongue to torture her hot flesh. He clamped his hot mouth on her nipple, sucking and swirling his tongue, driving her mad. Every nerve ending was on fire. She ran her fingers through his hair, pressing him against her breast. She arched her back, allowing him to take more of her flesh inside his hot mouth.

  He stroked her curls and entered a finger, moving it in out at a feverish pace. Her first orgasm swept over her and she cried out.

  Theo smiled, then put his hands on either side of her. “Now, you’re ready.”

  He climbed up her molten body, his golden eyes flaring with desire.

  She parted her lips and he bent his head kissing her, devouring her every gasp. The kiss was one of possession, of love, of fire. Her dragon indulged her every whimper, every moan. His hands slid down her slick body, stirring her into a frenzy. He parted her thighs and then he plunged his cock deep inside her. She arched her hips off the bed and clung to him. She matched his hard thrusts, slamming skin against skin, taking him deeper and deeper until in one fiery moment, her orgasm burst into fragments.

  She wrapped her legs around his hips, holding them there. He came and collapsed on top of her. They both lay their spent and pleasured. He kissed her cheek.

  “Tonight, I’ll grant your heart’s desire.”

  She panted. “I thought…you…already did.”

  He kissed her, silencing her curiosity and taking her into another round of bliss.

  ***

  Gwen finished setting the picnic table, wondering who the other guest Topper was bringing for dinner. Potato salad, a vegetable tray with ranch dressing, a bowl of summer fruit, and two bags of potato chips were in a neat line.

  She picked up another potato chip and popped it into her mouth. She wiped her greasy fingers on her jeans. God, these things were addicting. Back in the seventeenth century, there were fried potatoes, but not these delectable chips.

  “You keep eating those and you’re going to eat the whole bag.”