Reborn: Daughter of Darkness Prequel

  This book was given to Albert Lawrence on instaFreebie.

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  Reborn

  Daughter of Darkness Prequel

  Val O. Morris

  Contents

  Welcome!

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Help Reborn Grow!

  Sneak Peek: Wanted Witch

  Note From the Author

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  REBORN

  DAUGHTER OF DARKNESS PREQUEL

  by Val O. Morris

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  Copyright 2016 Val O. Morris.

  All rights reserved.

  * * *

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events, or locales is purely coincidental. Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited.

  The author greatly appreciates you taking the time to read her work. Please consider leaving a review wherever you bought the book, or telling your friends about it, to help spread the word.

  * * *

  Cover Design: Lou Harper

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  www.valomorris.com

  Reborn

  Daughter of Darkness Prequel

  Life's a bitch and then you die. And die. And die. And...

  My name is Mackenzie Adams and I'm good at killing zombies and other nasty creatures. Oh, wait. That's when I'm playing the latest video game, not real life. My actual life is much more normal. Bor-ing. At least it was until I died. That's right. I went adios, caput. I exited life as we know it. Except... I didn't. I'm alive and well.

  When childhood nightmares that have been locked away begin to resurface, I learn that I have a unique ability to cheat death but only if I willingly sacrifice myself to save someone else's life.

  As enemies from my past reveal their true nature, my secret is threatened. If word got out, it would make me mucho unpopular.

  For my husband, Craig.

  .... my biggest supporter on this crazy journey. I love you, babe.

  1

  I had only been a Blackwood resident for a six months before I died.

  My life, like my job, was the most normal, boring thing you could ever imagine. Or, at least it was until last night when I died. Yup, I went caput and checked out of this grand place we call life. Except... I woke up.

  It started as any typical day. I walked into the break room at work, and I was standing at the fridge getting a Coke, when I heard a few of the women in the office yapping behind me. Each one took turns griping about their husbands, boyfriends, sometimes both, sometimes the lack there of, their kids, the house in need of repairs, and their mother-in-laws who claim they aren't good enough for their baby boys.

  I thought to myself, this is my pitiful life. I get up every day and drive to a job that doesn't pay what I'm worth only to be belittled by my boss who thinks he's God's gift to business, and then I have to listen to these sorry excuses for humans moan about their boring lives. Is this what the rest of my life is going to be like?

  Fuck me if it is.

  My name is Mackenzie Adams and like a lot of people, I work at a dead end office job. Being a desk monkey has got to be the lowest position on the self esteem totem pole. I closed the fridge door and retreated to my desk. I couldn't bare to stand and listen to them any longer. Surely that isn't what life is all about- being a slave to corporate America and being miserable until you take your last breath. A glance at the clock told me it was time for lunch. Half a day left before Freedom.

  Isn't it funny how time seems to move so slowly when you're somewhere you despise? I hate cliches, but I guess what they say is true- time flies when you're having fun.

  I do believe my dead end job is literally killing me a little bit every day.

  I threw my leg over my motorcycle. I cranked it, and the speakers instantly blasted rock music. With the clutch pulled, I was about to ride away when Nancy, the woman who was complaining about her husband, walked in front of me.

  She didn't notice me watching. She climbed into her expensive car, checked her perfectly set hair in the rearview mirror, put it in drive, and peeled off. One by one, each of my co-workers did the same. Both men and women. They were all obsessed with leading this life that really only existed in their heads. The life of a corporate ladder-climber.

  The only ladder I wanted to climb was in Donkey Kong, so that my little Mario dude could rescue his princess. Video games were as much a part of my life as breathing. Some may say they are the ultimate time-waster and that they corrupt our brains, but to me, video games gave me a sense of adventure. A sense of inclusion. An escape from the boring, daily grind. Some of the coolest people I've ever met are gamers. And trust me, the only thing corrupting my brain is working nine to five. That song by Dolly Parton really hits the nail on the head.

  A dread suddenly washed over me. I kicked it into first and revved the throttle. I had to get out of there. Every Friday at lunch was the same thing- I have half a mind to leave and never return. But Sunday night comes along, and I realize I can't do that. The pull of society's rules take control once again.

  My dream is to one day open my own game store. A place that not only sells games, and maybe even comics and Dungeons & Dragons books, but also where gamers could come and just hang out. Young and old, but mostly gamers my age who face the dreaded six A.M. alarm clock every day like myself. We'd eat pizza and Chinese takeout every Friday and Saturday nights, drink way too much caffeine and sugar, and play first person shooters and even cheesy party games until we all pass out from a Cheetos high. That's the dream.

  As the melody faded from The Edge of Glory, I pulled into the Level Up's parking lot. I dropped the kickstand in my usual spot, right by the door. I figure if I was gonna spend Friday night alone, I might as well do it with a new game. Or, heck, even an old one that I haven't played would do the trick, too. I'm not biased on modern versus retro. I'll fire up an old Mario game any day of the week. They just don't make perfect platformers like that anymore. Believe it or not, playing an old school game like that relaxes me.

  The kid behind the counter greeted me. I nodded and smile. Anyone younger than me, even by only a couple of years, was considered a kid. Nothing derogatory about it--it was just math. Jeremy was one of the first friends I made after moving back to Blackwood. One late night I visited the store, and after a long conversation of the virtues of side-quests in video games, he invited me to a gaming party at his house. We've been best gaming buds ever since. We've spent many a late night taking down Covenant scum and Nazi zombies together. He has always said, those who game together, stay together. Another cliche, but I'd like to think it was true.

  I made my way to the new release section. I keep hearing how great the new Chaos Caliber is, and I figured it was time to see what the fuss was all about. After all, it was pay day, so I could splurge a little bit.

  My phone rang. It was Gaylin, my best friend. We went to elementary school together until my mom sent me away. She was thrilled when I came back. I hadn't spoken to her in over fifteen years, but we hit it off like it was just yesterday. "Hey, what's up?"

  She said to me, "Zee," all my friends call me Zee. I once had a lady misread my name and refer to me as Zoe. I could've choked her. Zoe was just a little too girly for me. Oh, and I also don't like being called Mac, or Mack, either.

  Anyway, G
aylin continued, "I'm in the mood for Mexican. Meet me at La Hacienda after work." I told her that I would, and I hung up wondering what crazy story she had to tell me.

  Gaylin was always getting into the most oddball situations, and somehow, she kept a level head and maintained a cheerful attitude even in the face of adversity. One time, she was rear-ended while driving to church, and the lady who hit her didn't have insurance, so it was gonna be on Gaylin to repair her car. Well, Gaylin took the lady on to church with her that morning and even bought her Sunday dinner afterwards! God bless her. I could certainly learn a thing or two from her, which is why I like hanging out with her so much. I'm hoping that through simple osmosis her good attitude will rub off on me. So far, nothing's rubbed off.

  There it was. The latest Chaos Caliber game. I reached for it at the same time the dude next to me did. He said, "Oh, sorry."

  "No, it's okay."

  Then he looked at me and smiled. His muscular build made the heat rise a little. He was totally cute in his Goomba t-shirt.

  Did I just say totally?

  "Please, go ahead," he said.

  "You sure?"

  He had a shy, yet confident look about him. His brown hair was tussled just so and it flattered his geeky appearance. He was one of the lucky ones--cute without trying to be.

  "You play?" he asked.

  I couldn't tell you how many times I've been asked something similar. Yes, I'm a halfway decent looking chick with long brown hair and blue eyes, think Meg Foster wicked-as-hell eyes, who likes gaming and isn't afraid to be seen in a game store on a Friday night. Alone. Still, it gets old sometimes, having to answer that question, but there was something about that guy that didn't bother me.

  "Yeah, I'm a sucker for shooting zombies with big guns," I gushed. My geekdom never hidden.

  "Me, too! I hear it's intense."

  "Yeah, that would be cool." Wow, that was the best I could come up with? That would be cool? What's wrong with me today? I meet a cute guy and suddenly I'm a dumb school girl. He's gonna think I'm lame and wander off any second. I noticed he was holding another game in his hand, a handheld RPG game. I nodded and said, "Are you a fan of the series?"

  It wasn't a stupid question. The series was popular during the 16-bit glory days and was only just recently resurrected for the modern consoles. Depending on how he answered would depend on if I wanted to take our conversation farther. See, I'm kind of a gaming snob. I'm totally cool with casual gamers. I think it's awesome if your grandma plays Wii Bowling with you, and I will laugh when she kicks your ass. But if you really want to get my attention, talk to me about something more old school like Castlevania or even Toe Jam & Earl for the older consoles.

  He ran his hand through his shaggy hair. He was trying so hard to not appear shy and failing miserably, which only added to his cuteness. "Uh, yeah. When I heard about this new sequel, I dusted off my Super NES and played the original."

  He still has his SNES? Be still my heart. He must have noticed me smiling because then he asked, "What's your name?"

  "Mackenzie. Buuuut my friends call me Zee." I probably drew out the but a little too long. Oh well. He was cute, so I didn't mind the few extra seconds it gained me.

  "Spratlin." He kind of nodded his head side to side. "When I was little, they called me Sprat. Or brat, or sometimes Sprat the Brat."

  He was cute when he was trying to be self-deprecating. I needed to get going so I could get back to prison, I mean work, but I hated to end the conversation. I could wax poetic about the virtues of the glory days for hours. And if my estimate was correct, and I should know, it had been a while since I took any real interest in the opposite sex. Between a soul-sucking job and a mound of games to catch up on, who had the time? Not to mention it was tough to find someone today who was real and not just in it for whatever you can do for them. Gaylin has been telling me I should get out more, and since I promised her I'd try, I figured I'd play nice. "Well, Spratlin, are you sure you're cool with me taking the last one?"

  "Under one condition."

  Uh-oh. Here it comes.

  "You at least email me and tell me how it is."

  Smooth. Real smooth. He doesn't immediately ask for a date, ensuring the likelihood of said date happening is increased over time by way of friendly email communication. "Deal." I pulled out my phone again and typed in his email. I paid for the game and told Jeremy I'd see him soon.

  As I was walking off, Spratlin called out to me. "Wa, wait. What's yours? Your email?"

  With my hand still on the door handle, I turned and said, "Oh, you'll hear from me soon, I promise. I'm quick."

  Back at work, I wasn't in my chair ten seconds and the boss was already hounding me. I stood up to head to his office. All the other desks were still empty. I was the only one back from lunch. Must be nice to take leisurely lunches whenever they pleased.

  My knuckle tapped on the big wooden door. "You wanted to see me?"

  Mr. Williams was a short, round, bald man who always wore a tie. He was from the old corporate world. "Have a seat," he motioned to the chair across from his big 'I have this huge desk to make it clear I'm the boss' mahogany desk. His short-man syndrome hard at work.

  I took a seat. This couldn't be good.

  "I'm going to make this quick so not to waste time."

  By that, I was sure he meant his time.

  He handed me a piece of paper. "Your services are no longer required here after the end of the day."

  The asshole was firing me. "Why?"

  "We're restructuring the office, and your job will be going away."

  "O...kay. So, put me on another job."

  "It's not that simple."

  Without saying any more, mainly in fear that I'd say something I'd really regret, I got up and walked out. At my desk, I began tossing various personal items in my backpack. A photo of me and my best friend laughing, a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle figure, and other random stuff that I had amassed during my short time there that helped me stay sane and survive the long days.

  I heard Mr. Williams' voice behind me. "Ms. Adams, that can wait until the end of the day. I need for you to update the Barnes file."

  I looked up, still facing away from him. My eyes moved to the door where the others were finally returning from their luxurious lunches. I fought back a smirk. This was gonna be fun.

  I spun around and looked him dead in the eye. "No offense, Mr. Shorty, but you must have balls the size of a cantaloupe if you think I'm gonna stick around and do your shit work for you after you just fired me."

  "Ms. Adams-."

  "No, get someone else to do it. Or better yet, learn to do it your damn self."

  I grabbed my shit and pranced right on out of there like I owned the fucking place.

  2

  My mother always told me I had a problem with authority. Maybe. But my boss, excuse me, ex boss, was a douchebag and deserved to be treated as such.

  I stabbed the queso with a chip. I imagined it was Mr. Williams' cold black heart. I'm not bitter, I swear. I'll move on to another meaningless job and be fine.

  "Zee," my friend said, "did you hear me?"

  Crunching a mouthful of chip and salsa, I asked, "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

  She gave me that stern, motherly look. "Now's your opportunity to open your game store. Do what you've always wanted to do."

  We were similar in some ways, but mostly we were quite different. She had her life in order, and mine, well, was always in some sort of disarray. She wore pretty blouses and dress shoes. My fashion sense consisted of slim fitting cargo pants, sneakers, and whatever gaming shirt was clean that day. Wearing a knit shirt with a collar to work meant I was dressing up.

  "I don't know. It takes a lot of money to start a business." I gulped my margarita and coated another chip in dripping hot cheese. Ever notice how most restaurants like to serve margaritas in those frilly glasses with the wide mouths? I hate those. Real Mexican joints do it right. Bring me a tall glass with a han
dle and let me gulp that shit like it's water.

  "You could put up your house as collateral."

  My chip broke off in the queso. "No way. That house is all I have here. I can't risk that."

  It had been in my family for several generations, but I didn't give a shit about that. Family didn't really mean much after mine disowned me. After my mother died, I inherited it. Things weren't going well where I was, so I figured it was time to go home.

  "Can't... or won't?"

  Now it was my turn to give her the stern look as I shoved another chip in my mouth.

  "All's I'm saying is, things happen for a reason. Maybe he did you a favor by firing you."

  "The hell's that supposed to mean?" I swallowed the last few drops of tasty margarita.

  "To urge you to take action instead of being miserable for the rest of your life."

  I set down my empty glass. Our waiter caught my eye right as I did. "Another?"

  "Please." Then I turned back to Gaylin. "I was hoping tonight wouldn't be filled with lectures. Besides, you called me here for a reason. What's up?"

  She shifted in her seat all excited like, eager to tell me a story.

  The waiter brought me another drink, and I quickly took a gulp.

  Gaylin crunched down on a cheese covered chip. "So, I fell in the toilet today."

  I spit a little bit of margarita back into the glass as I was gulping. Great, back washed margarita. "How is that even possible?"

  That might as well have been a rhetorical question. When it came to Gaylin, anything was possible.

  "I was dusting above the window in the bathroom and-."

  "People dust up there?"

  "I do. You know I like things clean."