Dark Destination (The Darkening': A Contemporary Dark Fantasy Trilogy Book 2)

By Rosemary Fryth

Fiona Delany is just an average Aussie country girl, but after inheriting a house from a woman she had met only once before, Fiona discovers that she is fated to be the champion of humanity.
Drawn into a strange and frightening world inhabited by mysterious creatures from myth and legend, Fiona is menaced by a malign and insidious cult that desires the destruction of the human race.
Bill, Trent and Deven, who witnessed and recorded the disturbing paranormal events at Emerald Hills the previous year, must join with Fiona to help locate and battle the evil cult in order to save humanity and the mysterious Fae from a terrible fate.
Author of the epic fantasy Riothamus trilogy, Rosemary Fryth brings to her readers Dark Destination, sequel to Dark Confluence and the second book in The Darkening trilogy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rosemary Fryth
• Release date: Sep 29, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370491179

Rosemary Fryth

Australian Independent author writing epic and dark fantasy, and also poetry. 'Riothamus' trilogy (Heroic Epic Fantasy genre) - Able to be downloaded from Smashwords and other distributors. 'The Darkening' trilogy (Contemporary Paranormal Dark Fantasy genre) and "The Dresser Man" - Available from Amazon, now available from Smashwords

Book preview

DARK DESTINATION

The Darkening Trilogy, Book 2

Rosemary Fryth

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

Copyright © 2012, Fay Parkyn

Glen Innes NSW, Australia

Fourth eBook Edition, February 2017

Published by Fay Parkyn at Smashwords

Cover photos courtesy of

© Lilkar | Dreamstime.com and

© Spartak | Dreamstime.com

Cover design by

Vila Design

http://tat-94.wix.com/viladesign#!

Editing and proofreading courtesy of

Frankie Sutton

http://frankiesfreelanceediting.blogspot.com.au/

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portion

thereof in any form whatsoever.

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Epilogue

Rosemary’s Books

About the Author

To Richard—love of my life.

Chapter 1

Fiona felt the hard, bracing coolness of the water rushing against her body, and the salt stinging her eyes as she struck out strongly through the pounding surf. Her body sliced through the waves as cleanly as a hot knife through butter. Her tanned arms and legs almost lazily efficient in their movements.

It was a classic Queensland summer day.

A flawless arc of blue sky, a brilliant blue-green sea, its colour and clarity marred only by white breakers, and pristine, almost blindingly white sand.

As she swum, she felt the water move around her, and she welcomed its cold embrace on her sun-warmed skin. It touched her like a lover, intimate, comforting. Yet, she knew its moods, knew when it showed its dark side, its treachery, when rips and undercurrents could drag an unwitting, or uncertain swimmer out to certain doom.

Her head broke the surface of the water, the brilliance of the sun against the water dazzling her for a moment, and she dog paddled getting her bearings. Her bright blue eyes scanned the sea, the crowd on the beach, and realised that she had drifted beyond the marked flags.

Fiona had been a volunteer surf life saver at nearby Mooloolaba beach for many years. To her, the sea was a friend, not an enemy, so she feared little, especially here on the patrolled beaches, but still she did not want to prove to be a distraction to the on-duty lifesavers and swam back into safer waters.

It felt odd to be swimming alone. Usually, she had her best friend with her on her weekly jaunts to Alexander Headlands, but Emma had left for Europe, and Fiona was by herself. She too had thought about going to Europe and doing the gap-year backpacking thing. She had even tentatively planned for it several months ago, even going as far as getting a passport, but life had suddenly become complicated, and two weeks ago, she had found herself waving Emma off from Coolum airport, and driving back to Emerald Hills alone.

Being lonely was an unusual state of being for Fiona, and she did not relish it. Especially now that Dale was out of her life. She frowned when she thought of Dale.

Damn Dale!

Her skin now covered with goose bumps, she decided that it was time to head to shore for a while. Lunch beckoned her and perhaps another swim sometime after, then the drive back to the Hinterlands and her little cottage that she was busily repairing and renovating with the help of her mum and dad.

Emerging dripping from the water, she heard a wolf whistle and her gaze slewed over to a nearby group of young men lounging by their surfboards and eyeing off her bronzed, lean and lithe body. There was much to admire, for she was tall and possessed a natural athletic grace, along with an innate strength.

Her blonde hair when unbound, reached halfway down her back, in many ways she seemed more mermaid than mortal, especially whilst in the water. She knew she was attractive, for young men eager to know her better had told her often enough, but being attractive was low on her list of priorities. She simply did not think about it.

Still, unencumbered by a jealous boyfriend, she gave them a quick grin in return, rationalising to herself that she wasn’t Dale’s girl anymore, and she could smile at any man she chose.

Perhaps she should go up to them, strike up a conversation. They seemed nice enough, and one, in particular, took her eye, yet the absence of Emma’s outgoing personality seemed to constrain her, and she walked on, distinctly feeling the eyes of the young men following her back up the beach.

Going to her gear, she quickly towelled herself down and pulled on a t-shirt and a pair of faded denim shorts over her bikini. The sun blazed down, her skin prickled and the sand burned under her bare feet. Yes, it was high time to move into the shade and out of the fierce sub-tropical Queensland sunlight. Fiona danced across the hot-as-coals sand until she thankfully reached the relative coolness of the parkland grass beyond.

Walking across to her little red, late-model hatchback, she opened the back door and dumped her towel onto the seat. Taking her sandals from the back seat, she slipped them on her feet, grimacing a little as the sand on her skin rubbed against the leather of her shoes.

Reaching inside, she took her canvas shoulder bag, and locking the car, walked across the blisteringly hot bitumen of the small car park near the surf club to the pedestrian crossing and lights.

On the other side of the road at Alexander Headlands she could see a small shopping strip, which included a surf shop, a chemist, one or two real estate agents, and a cafe with a couple of tables and chairs arranged on the footpath outside. The main road that separated houses and businesses from the main beach was a busy one. Traffic streamed constantly along it, and a narrow grass and gravel median strip divided its four lanes.

Fiona walked up to the lights, her bag swinging gently on her shoulder. As she leant forward to press the button for the walk-signal, she couldn’t help but notice the unsavoury man who was standing there. She wrinkled her nose at the pungency of his body odour, a stench that was evident even over the acerbic heat of the bitumen road, and the stifling fumes of the nearby traffic.

Looking out of the corner of her eye, she noted his unhealthy pallor, his gauntness, and his greasy black and thinning hair that seemed to be in dire need of a good wash. Noticing her furtive gaze, he too turned and stared, and then unexpectedly grabbed her arm before she could press the button.

No, he hissed, his cold eyes staring at hers.

"Let me go," Fiona demanded, flinching from him whilst trying to pull her arm away and out of his clasp.

Despite her youth and strength, his hand was like an uncompromising steel vice upon her body. Annoyed, she tugged her arm again, but his grasp only tightened.

Let go! she cried out forcefully, noticing that on the back of his hand that held her was inscribed an ugly black tattoo comprised of a capital ‘A’ contained within a circle.

All is darkness; all is ruin, he whispered to her, his body leaning close into hers, whilst pulling her against him and almost into the path of oncoming traffic.

Fiona recoiled in horror at his touch and nearness, struggling to get free, her stomach churning as she smelt decay and something else entirely foetid upon his breath. Then, his face bleak, he just as abruptly let go of her arm, and immediately and unconcernedly stepped out into the path of a looming semi-trailer that blared its air horn, sending the lorikeets in the nearby trees into noisy and startled flight.

Fiona yelled out in shock, grabbed his shoulder and a split-second before the truck mowed him down, thrust him back onto the footpath where he staggered and half fell into the gutter.

What were you thinking? she shouted at him, her heart jumping in her chest, feeling both angry and frightened at the same time.

He leapt to his feet, his face like thunder.

"Idiot, he hissed at her, Foolish, foolish child."

Then spitting at her, he turned and ran away down the footpath, his black clothes flapping about him like the wings of a crow.

Shuddering and staring bewilderedly after him, Fiona guessed that he had originally intended to throw her into the way of the semi-trailer, before attempting to end his own life.

Repulsed, she took a step back from the crossing, avoiding the spot on the footpath where his spittle lay. Shaking a little, Fiona decided against staying on for lunch; for with the sour taste of vomit in her mouth, she knew that if she ate, she would be immediately sick afterward. The man had poisoned the day for her and all she wanted now was to be home.

Fiona, still shaking violently, walked back to her car, and after sitting for a moment to steady herself, turned on the ignition and drove away, her hands still trembling on the steering wheel.

Chapter 2

Fiona drove with her knuckles white on the steering wheel, and every time a driver leant on their horn, she jumped a little in her seat, sweating anew. It seemed that there had been an accident on the Pacific Highway and traffic was bumper to bumper on the feeder roads leading in and out.

With her jangled nerves playing hell with her concentration, and impatient drivers taking unnecessary risks, the normally uneventful journey from the coast up to the Sunshine Coast Hinterlands took Fiona well over an hour to drive.

The town of Emerald Hills was located on the Blackall Range, a pleasant area of picturesque small country towns nestled between the hills, scrub, and patches of remanent subtropical rainforest. The rich red volcanic soil was a feature of the area, along with the unusual landscape of the eroded volcanic plugs of the Glasshouse Mountains. Taking advantage of the red soil, farms and forestry prospered in the area, with pineapples and pine trees grown closer to the coast, and other crops grown on the uplands.

Fiona’s own parents came from farming stock, and her father, Matt, had recently taken over the running of his late father’s farm, as well as working part-time as a draughtsman in a local engineering firm.

At twenty-two, Fiona was still trying to work out what she wanted to do with her life. University was an option, her grades were certainly good enough for her to qualify for entry into a couple of arts degrees, but she had little inclination to tertiary study. Most of her closest friends from school had gone on to universities in Brisbane and Gatton, leaving her behind in Emerald Hills. She had tried keeping in contact with her friends, but now there seemed to exist a separation between them. Fiona represented the old life, whilst university was the new and exciting adult life. After the third call that had not been returned, Fiona didn’t bother ringing again.

She decided that she needed to find new friends.

In many ways, she felt caught in an indecisive in-between world, no longer teenager, and yet not quite a true adult. She wished that something, anything would jump out at her, take her by the throat and roar–‘This is what you are going to do with your life’ but nothing did, and at times she felt like seaweed being pulled hither and thither by the tides, with no true direction in her life.

This uncomfortable self-analysis was becoming depressingly common now–not driven by her parents who seemed thankful that she remained close to the nest, but rather a gradual dissatisfaction with her own choices. It was all the more potent when her friends were off doing things, going to Europe, posting their adventures on the internet, and making their mark on the world.

Fiona ground her teeth–what was to be her mark? Helping the family with the running of the farm, and spending a couple of days a week at her dad’s work, doing odd jobs around the busy office?

Surely, there was more to life than that?

Flicking on the car radio, she allowed the music and chatter to occupy her, successfully banishing for a time the uncomfortable thoughts to the back of her mind.

Once she turned off the highway and onto the winding mountain road to Emerald Hills, Fiona began to relax and her torturous and sweaty grip upon the wheel eased. Taking a deep breath, she thought back to that very odd time last year, when her late grandad's new friend, Jennifer, had come to visit. Fiona remembered Jen–a small, quiet, late middle-aged woman with serious hazel eyes and grey-streaked dark hair knotted back into a long plait. She was the last person on earth Fiona could ever expect to do something unexpected–unexpected like stealing and crashing a gas tanker into the local sub-station and blowing both it and herself to kingdom come; or unexpected, like naming Fiona as the sole beneficiary of her modest estate.

Fiona still didn’t really understand why Jen had killed herself and understood even less why she was named the sole beneficiary.

Her dad said that he would explain all in the fullness of time, but Fiona suspected that Jen’s actions were due to the horrible effects of the moulds that had caused all of the residents of Emerald Hills to suffer memory loss and hallucinations. The town had suffered terribly during that time, with buildings and footpaths falling apart and into ruin–and then there had been that odd show on television a few months back, claiming that everything that had happened was due to paranormal reasons. Of course, no one but the lunatic fringe had believed it, and experts from the Government had swiftly dismissed the entire documentary as a fake, citing CGI tampering.

For her family, if not Fiona, everything had settled down after that–Fiona had moved into her new home, discovering to her mortification a long list of minor repairs that needed attending. Mum and Dad helped of course with the house, but it was a slow project given that they were busy with the farm and Dad’s additional responsibilities at his work with all the repairs and rebuilding of the town.

The house had been a big reason why she had decided not to go to Europe with Emma. She still wasn’t sure if she should be thankful for the gift or not.

Fiona finally reached the top of the range, turning off the main road and onto the road leading down to Emerald Hills. All around her, stretched kilometre after kilometre of rolling green hills, meadows and woodlands, with swathes of deeper green hiding rainforest patches around creeks and streams. She wound down her window, breathing deeply of the cooler mountain air, relishing its freshness, and at last, dispelling the lingering heavy horror of what had happened earlier on the coast.

At last, the road led her into Emerald Hills, the main street a hive of activity as work crews continued to labour around the clock to stabilise, repair and even replace damaged buildings and footpaths. Also, the council had decided to replace the brand new underground electrical supply with traditional above-ground power poles and power lines, a decision that they had never fully explained to their long suffering ratepayers.

Several months ago, the federal Government had stepped in, declaring the entire area a natural disaster, and thus opening up previously unavailable funding in order to get the town back on its feet after the events of last year.

Fiona slowly and carefully navigated her way around the many road works and building crews. Hazard signs were everywhere, and new detours created around entire blocks of buildings that threatened to fall down. In spite of the organised chaos from the rebuilding and repairing, Emerald Hills was again a thriving centre of tourism and commerce–with visitors and locals alike determined to keep the town moving, despite the ongoing disruption. New shops had cropped up everywhere, many with a distinctly New Age flavour, perhaps trying to capitalise on the comic yet popular assumption that Emerald Hills was a haunted town.

Last Halloween had been a sight to see and despite the horror of the day, Fiona suddenly giggled. Thousands had flocked to the town, all dressed in outfits that ranged from vampires to the grim reaper. Some of the older townsfolk had looked askance at the antics of the visitors, preferring to forget the grim happenings of earlier in the year. The visitors however brought business and dollars, and money was exactly what the town needed to rebuild. So then, with a stoicism born of past horror, the town accepted its new supernatural role and slowly recovered.

She passed the last of the barriers and detours and was almost out of town and starting to accelerate again when she yelled in fright and shock, slamming her foot down hard on the brake. A young man had deliberately walked out from behind a four-wheel drive right into the path of her hatchback. She clearly heard the shriek of her car’s tyres, enveloped in a billowing cloud of foul-smelling and acrid smoke from the overheated brake pads. Quickly and deftly, she swung the steering wheel to the right, making her small car skid a little before bringing it to a controlled stop only a hair’s breadth from the youth.

Fuming and sweating anew, Fiona leant out of the window, ready to launch into a tirade of angry words, however, the abuse died on her lips when the youth stared at her with a look of utmost disdain, and with one tattooed hand, raised his middle finger contemptuously at her. Aghast, Fiona could only stop and stare whilst he gave her another dark look and then walked back to the footpath and away.

‘Bloody hell,’ Fiona swore to herself, her heart hammering away in her chest.

She eased her foot off the brake and carefully drove off, occasionally glancing backward into the rear view mirror to see where the suicidal youth might have gone.

Fiona shook her head, what was wrong with people today? She briefly looked up to see if there was there a full moon or something, and what was the deal with the tattoo she kept seeing? Shuddering, she immediately felt a prickle of fear run down her back. Despite the heat and humidity, her tanned skin rose into goose bumps and a heavy feeling pressed hard across her brow. Pulling over to the side of the road, Fiona bent her head and rested her forehead against the steering wheel. She hoped she was not getting sick. She was too busy to be laid up in bed.

Closing her eyes against the pressure building in her brow, she missed seeing the large and ominous shadow that overflew the car, and which swiftly disappeared behind a copse of trees away to the north.

After a minute or two, her infant headache was gone, and the pressing feeling on her forehead faded. Again, lifting her head up, she opened her eyes. The headache had passed and tentatively she moved her neck gently from side to side, hearing tight muscles grind in response. It was tension, she figured, a hot shower would do the trick, and her home was not far away now.

A few minutes later Fiona reached the house. Turning her hatchback off the road, she drove onto the new gravel driveway that led into her property. Parking near the front steps, she got out and opened the back door of the car to retrieve her towel and