Dark Seeker (2 page)

She blinked and he disappeared in the same blur in which he’d appeared. Janie stood alone, still clutching her dagger. Sweat dripped from her palm. Her fingers ached from gripping the hilt so tightly.

CHAPTER 2

Janie returned home earlier than expected. Her unforeseen run-in with Kai had thrown her for a loop. She stepped into the outdated kitchen that she swore got uglier every day. They hadn’t replaced the white cabinets, ivy wallpaper, and dark green countertops left over from the previous owners. Not that it mattered, as they only had one more year in the house—and the cycle would continue.

Janie’s mother, Isabelle, stood over the stove making chicken soup. “You’re home early.”

Janie poked her head in the fridge. “I’m going to the wrestling match with Ava.” She felt edgy and wanted to be anywhere out of the city, even if it meant attending a high school sports event. Plus, without her car, she was grateful that Ava, her best friend, offered to give her a ride.

After retrieving a Coke, she turned back around, noticing and half-expecting her mother’s disappointed frown.
Here we go.

“Janie—you have a job to do.” She gave Janie a stern, straight-brow look—her way of issuing a gesture of warning before she handed out the punishment, like counting to three.

“I know.” Janie frowned. “I Seek
every
night. High school sucks for me—for the second time.”

Isabelle’s voice softened. The lines across her forehead relaxed. “Janie, I know this is hard for you. Life won’t always be this way. I did it, too. You were born a Seeker—try to embrace it.”

Janie mouthed her mother’s words—
yada yada
.

“And stop mimicking me. I’m serious.” Isabelle placed the spoon on the counter and looped a sympathetic arm over Janie’s shoulder.

“I know you’re serious.”
Same speech, different day.

“I know it’s difficult, but you’re equipped to handle them. Abram trained you well.” Isabelle pushed a strand of loose ponytail behind Janie’s ear, her brown eyes sympathetic. “Go enjoy your match.” She smiled, examining Janie as if staring at a younger version of herself. They looked strikingly similar with their long, straight black hair and tan, youthful Cherokee skin. Both were muscular, but petite in stature. “You’ve known your fate since you were a child.”

Inwardly, Janie agreed. Growing up, her grandmother would tell her native Cherokee legends before bedtime. Her favorite story was about U`tlûñ'ta, a shape-shifter who could transfigure into anything she desired. She was said to be a “bloodthirsty” killer. The creature, which in true form resembled an old lady with tough, wrinkled, leather-like skin, used her long bony finger to stab people and take their livers.
Nothing like scaring the hell out of a six-year-old right before bed. It makes for great nightmares. Thanks, Gran.

“How do you plan on getting to the match?” Isabelle said.

“Ava.” Janie removed a piece of gum from her mother’s purse. “When did Sal say my car would be fixed?”

“In a few days. Be safe tonight—and remember, you’re special, and with your gifts come obligations.” The stern look returned.

“You mean like the obligation of losing Dad?” Janie immediately regretted her words. Her father’s death had been a closed subject for fifteen years. The crippling event had left her mother lifeless and empty for most of Janie’s childhood. Under no circumstances was Connor Grey’s name ever to be spoken, and her mother’s flinch confirmed that.

“Sorry, Mom. I’m just tired. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Janie headed outside to wait for Ava.

Janie and Ava entered the humid gym. The room was filled with the smell of sweat. Ava sported a bright-white smile, hurrying across the wooden court with her auburn curls bouncing on her shoulders. As a pair, Janie and Ava straddled opposite sides of the spectrum. Ava favored vibrant corals and yellows, while Janie preferred muted blacks and grays. Janie wore a fitted black long-sleeve tee, a gray hoodie, jeans and her favorite black boots.

The wrestlers warmed up. Some jogged around a large, navy blue mat, and others rolled around on their heads, stretching their necks. Under their running pants, Janie noticed they wore their tight singlets, or whatever they were called. They resembled one-piece bodysuits with tight biker-short bottoms. She chuckled, glad most of them were still wearing their running pants. Singlets certainly didn’t leave much to the imagination.

As they passed a group of cheerleaders bunched along the bottom bleacher, one sprang into a jump. She landed on her perfectly balanced feet and flitted back over to the group to chat with her leader, Molly Hall.

“Oh look, it’s Ava, part of Janie’s wannabe Goth nerd herd,” Molly said. She looked them up and down, flipping her blond ponytail to the side of her heart-shaped face. The strap of her uniform arched around her thin, pale neck. Janie glanced at her black tee and dark, worn-in jeans.
Ah, simplicity makes life so much easier.

Ava lowered her head and focused on the gym floor. Four years of Molly Hall, and Ava still couldn’t look her in the eye.

“Give it a rest, Molly,” Janie said, taking in the clique of on-looking cheerleaders.

Molly’s flawless, rhinoplasty-perfect nose crinkled. “What’s it to you, loser? You shouldn’t even be here. You don’t belong.” Her lips curved into a half-smile. She turned to her entourage and started to laugh.

Janie took Ava’s hand and led her up the bleachers. She could kick Molly’s ass into next week, but she’d sworn to use her gifts for good. Sometimes it sucked having lessons. But the lessons kept her grounded. At times, they were all she had for guidance and structure. In a way, she guessed, it made her a better Seeker.

They chose a seat near the top of the bleachers. “Molly’s so hateful. I wish I could stand up to her,” Ava said, sporting a frustrated frown.

Janie waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about her. I’ve seen her kind so many times. She only picks on us because she needs to feel like she’s important. Without her Junior Prom Queen status, she has nothing. Trust me. She’s not worth it.”

Ava drew a deep breath. “You’re right.” She smiled. “Anyway, this is exciting.” Her positive energy must have been infectious. The smell of sweat and testosterone wasn’t as nauseating to Janie now. And the guys didn’t look
that
bad in their singlets. Not that she was interested.

In the first match, a Raider pinned his opponent in twenty seconds. The stands erupted in wild celebration. Two more Loch Raven Raiders wrestled opponents and won by considerable points. Janie joined in the school spirit, screaming, clapping and leaping out of her seat with the rest of the fans. Suddenly, she doubled over and started to wheeze.

“Are you okay, J?” Ava helped steady Janie.

“I’m fine. I just need my inhaler. I left it in your car.” Janie drew a shaky breath. She held out her hand for the keys. “Watch the match. I’ll be right back.”

Janie couldn’t believe she’d forgotten her inhaler. She wondered why the Apotheosis, a group of ancient Seekers who organized and ran the Seeker organization and set up chapters in each city to oversee problems, created a Seeker with asthma. It kind of sucked when she had to take a break from fighting evil to use her inhaler. Usually, if she used it before Seeking, she was okay. Tonight, obviously, that was not the case.
I knew I shouldn’t have attended the wrestling match. It’s apparently bad for my health.
Lesson learned.

Janie crossed the parking lot, found Ava’s car, opened the passenger door, and reached into the console to retrieve her inhaler. The pleasant relief filtered into her lungs. She exhaled into the crisp autumn air, her warm breath expelling from her lips like a puff of smoke. The wind nipped through her dark gray hoodie, sending her into a whole-body shiver.

Stars sparkled in the cloudless night sky. Each star seemed spaced perfectly to create a twinkling picture in the sky. It reminded her of her old Lite-Brite, a toy with multicolored lights that her mother had passed down to her from her childhood. Janie lost herself in the shimmery scene, forgetting about the chilly fall air and her bizarre encounter with Kai. After a few more moments of star-gazing, she decided to head back to the sweaty gym, a sharp contrast to the dry air she currently breathed.

As she cut through the rows of cars, her skin started to crawl and a deep gnawing sensation grew in her stomach. Janie slowed her pace, striding cautiously down the line of cars. As she stalked forward, her body pulsated and her heart rate quickened. He was close, very close. She knew it without a doubt—it was a Daychild.

One advantage Seekers had over their prey was their ability to eliminate the element of surprise. It was impossible for a vampire or a Daychild to sneak up on a Seeker, or even stay off a Seeker’s radar. All Seekers could feel the undead’s proximity through waves of tell-tale goose bumps. Janie referred to it as her sixth sense, or Seeker sense—where her hair stands up on her arms and the back of her neck. How to detect the presence of vampires or Daychildren was one of the first skills she learned during training. Honing in on the ingrained feeling to hunt and survive served as an imperative strategy for saving lives, including hers.

She heard a shout—a deep voice—followed by a loud crunch of metal. Janie ran in the direction of the commotion, about one row from where she stood. Overhead lights illuminated part of the parking lot. Other areas were only lit by the stars and a crescent white moon. Still focusing on the struggle, she retrieved her silver dagger from her boot.

A passage from her mentor’s teachings cycled through her head.
“Things are much different now. A demon is a human who has been taken over by a fallen angel. One night the vampire king drained the blood of a demon, creating a hybrid vampire. Daychildren—vampires that can walk in the sunlight and possess demonic abilities.”

Janie spotted the Daychild and his victim. She agreed with Abram. Things were much different than they used to be.

The Daychild had a student pinned to the hood of a red Ford pickup. The guy squirmed, doing his best to fend the monster off with his muscular arms, but his attacker had the upper hand. The Daychild forced his head down to the guy’s neck.
Lesson four—save innocents, but minimize exposure.
She didn’t see how this was possible, but despite herself, she heard herself speak up.

“Hey! If you want to mess with someone, mess with me.”
 
She planted her boots firmly on the ground and gripped her dagger. She never had to kill one of them on school grounds before. They usually stayed in the Baltimore city limits, where they could blend into society. With Baltimore’s murder rate continuously on the rise, many of the deaths weren’t fully investigated, and were considered gang activity. This Daychild was brave, coming all the way out to the suburbs—
her
turf.

The Daychild raised his head from his victim and cocked it, appraising Janie. He was in his thirties, unattractively balding, chunky and short. Releasing the boy from his grasp, Pudgy jumped off the hood of the car and strode over to Janie. His deep black holes studied her. He licked his lips and balled his hands into fists.

“Hey, pretty girl. How would you like some of this?” He laughed, and the rolls of his stomach jiggled, giving the phrase ‘bowl full of Jell-O’ new meaning. Janie swallowed the bile rising in her throat and pressed forward.

“I’d love some,” she taunted. She rotated to the side, taking a fighting stance with her fists covering her face for protection.

He leapt forward. She spun into roundhouse kick to the gut, forcing him backward into the pickup’s fender. He stumbled awkwardly onto his feet, his cocky smile replaced with a hateful scowl. “You’ll pay for that,” he hissed.

“Let me have it,” she said teasingly. With her free hand, she made a come-to-me gesture.

He lunged at her, fast and clumsy. She lifted her leg into an outside-inside kick and caught the side of his head with the insole of her boot, knocking him to the ground. He caught his fall with his hands and looked up, glaring at her with his hateful black eyes.

It was time. She plunged her silver dagger through his skull. He let out a horrifying growl. His body shook, and green blood oozed from his head. His fleshy mass disappeared, sucked into the earth—or, for him, Hell.

Janie scooped her dagger off the ground and still fueled with adrenaline, marched over to the curb. She drew the blade across the cold, stiff grass to remove any traces of blood and shoved her favorite Cherokee dagger back into her boot.

Remembering the guy on the pickup, she flicked her eyes over to the hood. The guy sat, legs tucked into his chest, with his arms wrapped around his knees.

Janie assessed the situation; it wasn’t good. She’d definitely failed lesson four—
minimize exposure
. The guy had seen her kill the Daychild, and even worse, she suddenly recognized him—the Junior Prom King.

Matt Baker jumped off the hood of the pickup, staring at her wide-eyed. Tall and strong, with eyes the color of autumn leaves turning from sage to chestnut, the girls flipped out over his dark brown, tousled thirty-second hairdo and killer dimples. “W—What w—was that?”