Heart of Darkness

HEART OF DARKNESS

By

Jaide Fox

ISBN:
9781301073771

Copyright by Jaide Fox January 2013

Smashwords Edition

Cover art by Eliza Black (c) copyright
January 2013

www.jaidefoxbooks.com

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and
places are of the author
’
s
imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to
living persons or events is merely coincidence.

Other titles by Jaide Fox:

Beastmen of Shadowmere Book One: Marked by
the Beast

Beastmen of Shadowmere Book Two: Seduced by
the Beast

Beastmen of Shadowere Book Three: Conquered
by the Beast (Coming Soon)

Beastmen of Shadowmere Book Four: Tempted by
the Beast (Coming Soon)

Beastmen of Shadowmere Book Five: Captured by
the Beast (Coming Soon)

Dark Lords 1: Captured by the Dark Lord

Dark Lords 2: Seized by the Vampire Lord

Dark Lords 3: Ensnared by the Dream Lord

Intergalactic Mayhem: Intergalactic Bad
Boys

Intergalactic Mayhem: Intergalactic Pain in
the Ass

Demon Huntress Book One: Sacrificed

Summoner’s Captive (Coming Soon)

Earth Girls Aren’t Easy

His Forbidden Fruit

Night Shade

Sexdroids

The Sky Fox

Archangel

Captured by Aliens: Alien Captive

Captured by Aliens: Alien Abduction (Coming
Soon)

Heart of Darkness

Chapter One

Bolting into an upright position, Isabeau
Hart's ears perked up as she listened to the sounds of the night
around her. The fingers of her left hand automatically wrapped
around the onyx, gold encircled ring, which bound the index finger
of her right hand. She clung to the golden circle with a fierce
need, seeking unconscious comfort from one of the last remaining
items that had once belonged to her mother.

She licked her lips as she analyzed the
different sounds in an attempt to discover what had awoken her, but
could discern nothing in the silence outside of the ale house in
which she was staying. Her ears were literally pricked up as she
attempted to sift through the noises of the other inhabitants, but
she could hear nothing.

Something must have caused her to awaken
though....

Realizing that she hadn't taken in a breath
of air for the last few moments, she gulped and attempted to once
more, calm her breathing. Slowly, she inhaled and exhaled then sank
back down on to the cot beneath her. She thought of the feather bed
that had once sucked her into its comfort and the pleasant sleeping
chamber that had been hers since birth and longed for it with an
ache that had tears stinging against the sensitive flesh of her
eyelids.

Perhaps it wasn't the superficial comforts of
home she missed, but the security of her parents' love and care,
which had forever cushioned her from the harsher aspects of
life.

Isabeau sighed as she realized that perhaps
that cushion had caused the last four years alone to be even more
difficult, but still, she could not and would never regret the
secure upbringing she'd been fortunate to have.

Wriggling against the cot that was a
makeshift bed for the night, she grimaced as the wooden spine
seemed to scrape each nodule of bone that sat along the slender
expanse of her back. In comparison to the down mattress she had
once slept upon, it was akin to torture, but after four solid
nights of sleeping on the loamy ground of varying woods throughout
the realm, it was a welcome change. It was no wonder she was so
fatigued, when night after night amongst the scurrying insects and
rodents kept her from the deep slumber she needed after covering so
much distance throughout the day!

Although Isabeau was once more lying against
the cot, she hadn't relaxed. Her senses were such that very little
disturbed her, so when something did, when it actually woke her up
from a deep slumber, she knew to trust her instincts. Over the last
years alone, they had been her sole defense and she had come to
rely upon them. Whilst at this moment in time, she could hear no
particular reason to be agitated, her senses and instincts rarely
lied.

Something was out there.

Waiting silently for her.

Isabeau lifted a tired arm and scrubbed her
fiery red hair back from her forehead. Using her thumb and index
finger, she rubbed her eyes and tried to evaluate what her next
move should be.

Was it safer to remain here until
daylight?

Or sneak out now and attempt to dissolve into
the woods and forests that surrounded this quiet village?

Biting her lip, she realized that she was
tempted to stay here and hide away for a few hours longer, but as
the skin at the back of her nape persistently tingled, Isabeau knew
that she had to move. A part of her longed for the blessed relief
of sleep, but that tenacious tingling had her on edge and as far
from the arms of Morpheus as was physically possible.

Suffering from a severe lack of sleep as she
was, Isabeau's movements were slow and dulled and her reactions
were not exactly swift as she climbed from the cot and stood beside
it. Her shining violet eyes were dazed with somnolence.

Rising to her feet, she stifled a groan as
her bones settled and she swept her hands along the length of her
skirt to free it from the dust and lint that it had collected
during her slumber. Isabeau gathered her few possessions, a square
swatch of material which acted as a carrying bag when gathered
together and currently contained a stale hunk of bread and a block
of cheese.

She had soon learned that any possessions she
wished to keep had to stay on her person. The six guineas she had
were sewn into the skirts of her petticoats. A miniature painting
of her beloved mama and papa were tucked down the bodice of her
chemise and the ring they'd bestowed upon her, never left her
finger. In company, she often hid her right hand in her skirts so
as not to attract attention to it. For even though she could change
her appearance at will, for some reason, the ring stayed no matter
what form she took.

Having gathered all her things together,
Isabeau quietly crept out of the ale house in which she had paid
over the odds to sleep in a single chamber. It seemed a shame to
depart so early in the night and a waste of good money to boot, but
she had little choice. Her instincts were screaming at her and to
ignore them could mean...

She pursed her lips together and closed her
eyes to deny what she knew to be fact. That whoever had murdered
her parents, whoever had set their house alight and allowed them to
burn to their deaths, was now on her tail and had been for the last
four years.

Exhaling roughly, Isabeau grimly exited the
ale house as silently as she possibly could. The less attention she
garnered the better. For even though it was the early hours of the
night, her senses told her that of the twenty inhabitants, at least
five of them were in a state of wakefulness. Any abrupt and strange
noises could bring about an investigation on their parts and that
would never do. For the last few years, discretion had been her
watchword and she was certain, that that was the reason for her
continued safety.

How she knew there were twenty people staying
in the inn and how she knew that five of them were awake, was
simply one of those things that she had soon learned to accept. It
was added to the fact that if she was injured, she could heal
herself. And if she wanted to, then she could change her
appearance.

Her abilities were a mystery to her but with
the life she led, they were her only security. Without them, she
would more than likely have died days after her parents' death.
Sixteen, she had been. Old enough to be wed in the eyes of the law,
but she had been raised differently than other girls. She had been
a young sixteen and the aftermath of losing her parents had been
the most difficult time of her life.

To this day, she was unsure as to how she'd
coped. How she had survived. She could believe that she was, just
that, a survivor. Someone, who despite the odds, despite the fact
that everything was against her, wanted to live and would do
anything physically and magically possible to do so.

The ring ...was something she kept close at
all times as it was her mother's. A part of her was unsure of its
power, yet another part was certain that something inside her soul
triggered its magic. Once, a few terrible months after the death of
her mama and papa, a beggar had attempted to rip it from her hand.
As soon as the gold and onyx had touched the man's flesh, terrible
screams had escaped his throat and he had grabbed his hand back and
nursed it against his chest, like a mother would a suckling babe.
He had soon run off and left her to herself.

That experience made her believe that while
the ring reacted in unnerving and miraculous ways whilst sat upon
her hand, it couldn't on another's.

What that made her, she didn't know.

A part of her wondered if that was why she
was constantly running from place to place. Attempting to outrun
the knowledge of what she actually was.

Perhaps she was wrong, perchance her constant
flight from danger was for some other reason, but the simple
villagers of her home town had never treated witches with any
kindness. There were documented papers, which explored the dunking
of countless, simple women and the burning of supposedly evil
sorceresses, who were in league with the devil.

Mayhap, the villagers had been behind her
parents' deaths and she simply had to count herself blessed that
she had not been in the house that day. Had been sent out on an
errand for a ribbon for one of her mother's new hats.

Or conceivably, it was something more
sinister and something that was completely beyond her
cognizance.

Again, and not for the first time, she wished
that her mother had explained these...talents to her. Isabeau
wished that she wasn't so in the dark as to what she was able to
do. But it was simply a waste of time to wish for things that were
impossible and Isabeau had no other choice but to wait to learn all
that she could do.

Patience was not, however, one of her
virtues.

Closing the door to the ale house as gently
as she could, Isabeau sighed out in relief as she finally entered
the yard. A horse neighed and she froze at the sound, but relaxed
moments later as she realized that it came from the inn's own
stables.

Not from men seeking her.

The heels of her worn boots clipped and
clattered against the cobbled, stone floor and the slight sound
rang out loudly in the courtyard. It wasn't enough to cause any
alarm to the inhabitants of the inn, but it instantly betrayed her
position and opened her to danger from those who were hunting
her.

If anyone
was
hunting her, that was.

It was feasible that lack of sleep had her so
highly strung that she saw ghouls and goblins, here where there
were none to see.

Resolutely, she continued on her way and when
she finally exited the yard and walked down the country lane, she
praised the Goddess for the moon. While it lit her path, it was not
so bright as to highlight her whereabouts.

Beside her, in the tight thoroughfare, were
hedgerows which were taller than even her. They also blanketed her
position and for the moment, she knew she was safe.

Opening her mind, as Isabeau had learned to
do, she slowly changed her appearance in the darkened protection of
the rough track. Slowly, her long, dark red hair turned into
straggles of lank, greasy gray. The violet eyes that garnered her
attention no matter the situation and had to be constantly
repressed with glamor, developed into watery blue orbs that added
decades to her real age. They added a down trodden, weariness to
her appearance that added to the authenticity of her disguise.

The smooth and tanned skin of a youthful
young woman became wrinkled and sun damaged. A mole popped out on
her chin and she grimaced as she felt the slight growth of two,
three, four hairs pop out of the fleshy mound. She licked her lips
to wet the dry flesh and realized that the soft and gentle pout of
her mouth had become a hard thin line.