Dreary Sunlight: Too Dark Alone

Chapter 1

So strange.

It was all so strange...almost normal. She chuckled at the thought, and was quite relieved that nobody could hear her, because she was quite alone. A thick, ominous looking book, and a cheerful fire were the only occupants of the room. The room was not furnished...one of her quirks, everybody had assumed. And she let them believe it. What good would it do, if she told them what she was planning?

God knew, they were under enough stress already, handling the mess that the ex-government had made of the county's policies...and far be it for her to disturb them. No doubt, they would try to stop her if they knew what she was planning. They would clap her up in the dungeons, or maybe lock her up somewhere nice, with fountains and an entertainment system, if they were feeling benevolent.

Yes...there lay the rub. If the wise, powerful magicians of yore had attempted such a things in their time, surely no one would even try to stop her, if she decided to tell them. But they still lived in their shadow---desperate to prove themselves. Desperate for glory.

In their gentle selfishness, they had failed to notice what they were becoming---just like their predecessors. Weak, power-hungry. She could not let it happen.

Her index finger trailed the words of a line thoughtfully. It would not be easy---no, even with the djinn she had in mind, it could prove to be very tricky. And she could lose so much...

Snapping the book close, she glared at the window. What was there to lose that she hadn't lost already? Not much, save her life. And, God knew, that was worth very little.

But if he were there...he could help them...and everything would be better again. Or so she thought, hoped.

She knew what she was doing amounted to madness of the worst sort. Discovery would lead to her imprisonment. They were kindly towards her, in gratitude for what she had done for them. Yes, she was respected, revered. But that would all soon cease if any of them was to learn of her hair-brained scheme.

She almost laughed at herself then.

What was she doing?

She felt sick suddenly.

How many ancient magical laws was she breaking, by even looking at the book that lay so innocently on the floor, where her trembling hands had dropped them?

How many lives would she be endangering if she did this wrong--if she did go through with the thing--?

Breathing deeply, she looked into the dreary grey sky. It was so hopeless without him!

Something would go wrong...she just knew it. It always did. he was more experienced than she...he would know what to do...he would help them get back on their feet.

And...she missed him.

Her eyes lingered, and flashed with a sort of guilty hope/pain, as they studied the dark, leather-bound book.

The title had long since peeled away, and the book was even in tatters.

And, to be sure, it looked so harmless!

So harmless...

But anyone would know, as soon as they touched the accursed thing, that it was far from harmless.

No, not harmless...

And it hadn't even been easy to get hold of it! How many horrible forms had she filled, bribes had she given, and protective charms had she placed to get hold of it? And the latter she had needed to help pierce the powerful enchantments that cloaked the book. It was no ordinary book. It contained something so vile, so evil, and yet so alluringly powerful that she could not keep her eyes off of it.

And she had not been disappointed. The enchantments guarding it had been so strong that it had drunk most of the essence of her to enable her to read it. And all that had been worth it.

Locks, pass-words, enchantments, possessive djinni that had attacked her the moment she had cracked the first page open...

All of that was over. At last.

And now...now, armed with knowledge that would shake the earth, with no mean amount of power, and with hope shining out of her eyes, she thought herself ready...

But she needed help.

The terrible weight of what she was about to do finally fell upon her, and she reeled, choked, and came perilously close to sobbing. This was not right, this was not the way it was supposed to begin...

One more chance, she begged.

One more chance, and everything will be better.

Will it?

I...don't know.

But she abruptly opened her eyes, cursed herself for being weak---she was weak, whichever way one looked at it--she knew it too.

Steadying herself, with long, harsh, rattling breaths, she snatched up her book--no, the book, for it was not hers...never would/could be.

Nodding curtly to a passing official, she hailed a cab, intent on making it to the library. She needed to research much before she did it. As far as she knew, nothing like what she was planning had been done in two hundred years, and she a commoner!

Oh yes...things had changed.

So had she. Hadn't she? She didn't quite know anymore.

Like a woman blinded she made her way to the section on Dark Arts. People threw her strange glances as she passed them by. There was reason behind that...after the fiasco with Quentin Makepeace and the other wayward magicians, anybody who was thought to dabble in the dark arts was regarded with nothing but feelings of deep suspicion.

Any wizard was regarded with feelings of deep suspicion, if it came to that.

Squirming uncomfortably, knowing that they probably thought her a dark wizard---for lack of a better word--she headed, with head bowed, to the shelves that were almost completely hidden by the other, milder books that would bring little harm upon anyone.

No, what she was looking for was more dangerous...more exciting, she would have said, but, biting her lip, and casting a wary eye on the mountain of books that lay before her, 'scary' was the word that her mind conjured up.

Grabbing the goose-feather duster that 'belonged' to the library, and for the sole purpose of dusting the older books, she settled down determinedly to a day of hard--and probably boring--research. Footsteps sounded.

She looked up warily. She wanted no one to even have an inkling of what she was doing.

There would be repercussions--oh yes!--if she actually succeeded

If she actually went through with it

But those could be dealt with later.

Her tensed shoulders relaxed as she saw the plump, kindly (if at times ferocious) form of the librarian. Mrs. Conaire, she remembered vaguely. An Irish High King. She wondered if the woman was Irish. It seemed more than likely.

She heard the librarian's forceful, and aggressive berating of someone-or-the-other, who seemed to have smuggled in coffee, and spilt some all over a map of the gates of Hell (The result of the attempts of some crackpot magician trying to develop interest among the travel agencies for tours of hell. She snorted. As though that was going to happen--in anybody's wildest dreams!). And he was being flayed well enough, the poor man.

Feeling disinclined to watch anymore, she turned her attention upon the pile of books that lay before her. She would have to go through all of those before the day ended. She stole a glance at her watch. Good, it wasn't even lunch yet.

Finger trailing down the list of contents, she chose the chapter that she thought would prove useful.

Manipulation of Pentacles to Suit the Magician's Need.

Yes, that sounded about right.

Truly, there was nothing especially dark or dangerous about that particular book. It was just a little...unusual, because the man who wrote it had been known to have been prone to strange, mad fits of morbidity and a secretive supporter of the Darkness. But she had no choice...there wasn't exactly a bibliography of sources that she could look up where she was. And she was sure that she could trust this particular information. It was just an innocent book...

She traced her finger down the book's spine, shivering as her finger passed over its peeling title. It had faded long since, but she knew what it should read:

Moste Secret Ways of Manipulating Anciente Magicks.

Hmph. An ambitious sort of title. Not but what, it didn't quite live up to its promise. A pentacle was not, after all, 'ancient magick' of any sort. No, the title was meant to catch the reader's attention. And so it would have, but she was used to such tricks.

Just tricks to lure unsuspecting readers into opening the pages of books that held no good knowledge. Spells would be stored in such books--perhaps even djinn, and perhaps the poor reader would be forced into a life of eternal torment...

Or something of the sort. Magicians were never very good when it came to variety.

But she doubted whether there were any such books in the library...only dull, safe, boring ones, she suspected. But it had what she needed.

One day, one day she would be able to roam through the shelves, to picking one at will, and settle down to a quiet day's reading. But not today. Never had the more interesting shelves of the library looked more tempting in her eyes.

And the books...oh, the books! They screamed to be read! And in some cases, quite literally so.

She itched to drop it all, and run! But she soon caught herself, and was sober once more.

Her eyes flashed quickly around the room once more. She was strangely paranoid. Glancing down at her book---or what looked like the book she had originally taken up, for she had put it down earlier--, and seeing chapter twenty three, she tried to keep her mind on the words.

'Since the reign of the eighth pharaoh of the fifth dynasty of Egypt, it had become a custom of Egyptian wizards to summon djinn to protect the pharoah. Conspiracies, and plots against the royal family were running rife, and not to be dismissed lightly by his priests.

Guard djinni were summoned to care for him, and soon special guard djinni were summoned for the very purpose, some displaying greater aptitude for it than others...'

She was dreaming. It was true. Otherwise, how to explain the fact that she'd picked up the wrong book, and had been staring into some foreign chapter on Djinn Slavery Through the Ages, not taking in a word of what was written?

Sighing, she knew that she would never get anything done that day. Picking up the books, and crossly glancing down at some of the heavier ones she knew she could not carry, she swept away to check them out.

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A/N:

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Everything belongs to Jonathan Stroud.

Yes, I'm well aware that it's a mess, and even now the plot bunny's going on a-buzzin' in my ear, and I'm not sure where this is going! But I thought I had to write it down. At this point, I'm totally open to suggestions of any sort, so do give me feedback!

I've not written any fanfiction in a really long time, so do take pity on this poor, struggling writer! I'm not too happy with the beginning of this chapter, so it might be revised in the future.

But, again: please read and review! I need to know if what I'm doing is worth it!