The Dark Heir (SHORTLIST - Open Novella Contest 2019)

A Reckoning Part 1

Chapter 14
A Reckoning - Part 1

Reck-on-ing
Noun

1. The action or process of calculating or estimating something.
"An Apocalypse is not, by any reckoning, good for the economy."
2. A person's view, opinion, or judgement.
"Arien reckoned that if he survived this reckoning, then he would make a very good king."
3. A settling of accounts...

***

"Excuse me?!" Rose said, extremely put off that anyone would try to claim her allegiance as if she were an odd black sock, which had been lost for some time behind a dresser, was now hardly recognizable and extremely dusty, yet obviously theirs.

"I wished you happy birthday. Has anyone else done that today?" Lorred drawled, inspecting his fingernails. They were looking ragged from erecting the first crucifix manually, just to see what it was like. He blinked and his nails were back to being as perfect as his jaw line.

"Well, no," Rose said, glaring pointedly at Gerald and Arien,* "but you also said I was here to join you. I don't appreciate anyone making assumptions about me. You also haven't said who you are."

"I'm the Dark Lord. I am your father..." He waited patiently for the appropriate "NOOOOOOO," but it never came.

Rose turned to Gerald, raising her eyebrows, "Him?"

Gerald nodded.

"What?" Lorred asked, worried that something was wrong with his appearance. Nothing was, technically...he still looked like each person's ideal type of man. However, this created a problem when it came to Rose, because she didn't have any idea of what an ideal man looked like. She'd never taken the time to think about it because, quite frankly, there were way more important things to think about in the world, and none of them had anything to do with men.

Whether this was due to her upbringing in a cult full of women where the only fully-grown man was rather abhorrent, or due to her general personality and sexual preferences (which were not at all formed at the time) is of no consequence. What is of consequence is where others saw chiseled jaw lines or well defined muscles, Rose saw extremely bland features which were non-descript in every way. The whole effect was extremely underwhelming.

Rose looked back at Gerald.

"Are you sure it's him?" She asked.

Gerald, who could see a man who looked like everything he'd ever wanted to be in his life, including a very prominent chin, was very sure and nodded emphatically.

"Him...It's just, he looks so...underwhelming," Rose said.

"Oh enough of this! I am The Dark Lord, and I'm your father." Lorred exclaimed. Then he did something - a flexing of sorts - and Rose suddenly saw an aura of darkness spread out from him, and Onyx welled up, breaking through Rose's frayed psychological wall to answer him.

"Hello, Father," said Onyx Rose. "The pleasure is all mine."

A gasp came from one of the werewolves who loudly whispered, "Hey! She's the Dark Lord's daughter?"

"Yes Fflur, we've been o'er tis nowr at lee-ast twice," someone else hissed back.

"Well I was a li'l busy what wiv all the dead pea-pole. Ya know, several of them are quoite fresh," Fflur protested.

"Shut up!" A third werewolf spat.

Lorred peered around Onyx Rose to see who was causing this interruption, but he couldn't tell one hairy person in fur pelts from another. He shrugged - all Welsh werewolves looked the same. It didn't really matter. He was going to kill them all soon. (He didn't realize this but he was muttering his thoughts aloud)