Fading Darkness (Bloodmarked #1)
Read Fading Darkness (Bloodmarked #1) Online
Authors: Alicia Deters
By
Alicia
Deters
Copyright © 2014 by Alicia Deters
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may
not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written
permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book
review.
Cover design by Tugboat Design
Table of Contents
For you, the reader. You’re awesome!
I had my iPod cranked up so high that I was
sure any passers-by could hear the string of obscenities blaring through the
ear buds. I was sure I would be getting a few glares and stink eyes tossed my
way. That is, if there were any people out right now crazy enough to walk these
streets this late at night. So call me crazy, but I liked the ambiance, the solitude,
the overall lack of general populous rushing through their day-to-day routines
and their normal, happy, clueless lives. That’s not my life, and it’s not a
life that was ever meant for someone like me.
The all-to-familiar pains of my past
threatened to surface and compromise my emotional state, but before I really
had a chance to delve into my depressing life story, I sensed someone, or more
than one someone. Moment of self-reflection, or was it self-pity, over.
I didn’t need to think about how different
my life was from all those normal people out there because I was stuck living
it. As if proving my point, I sensed them nearby. It’s like sensing a storm
coming before it hits. The energy in the air changes the atmosphere, but this
particular energy was negative, so bad I felt it in the pit of my stomach,
bringing on the accompanying nausea. It’s a lot like getting so worked up and
angry that it makes me sick.
Finally, I saw the dark shadows stretch and
dart across the alley in the amber glow of the flood lights on the sides of the
big brick buildings. Guess I’ll have to get back to wallowing in said misery
later. It always comes back to me.
I turned my iPod down and scanned the area
looking for the source of those shadows. Adrenaline pulsed through me leaving
my body humming with anticipation. I could feel the pressure of my blood
flowing just beneath the skin as I waited for the heightened senses that came
along with the adrenaline rush to kick in. The mouth of the alley came into
sharper focus. No movement.
Hmmmm
. They’re hiding.
“Come on boys. Don’t play coy with me.” It
was in my nature to taunt. Why draw out the inevitable? Plus, I was getting
tired and cranky so the sooner we got this over with, the sooner I get some
sleep.
“I’m not really into playing games, so if
there’s something you want, tell me now or I’m going to keep walking,” I
demanded.
“I want to do more than play,” said the one
hiding in an alcove within the alley. He broke away from the shadows and began
to approach. I noticed that he was tall with dark, curly hair and a body like a
bouncer. The word
burly
came to mind.
If I was a normal girl, I would probably
scream, or run even, but like I said, I’m not normal, and that’s not how I
handled this particular situation.
“My patience is starting to wear thin,” I
responded as I approached, crossing my arms. My fingers found and curled around
the cold steel of the railroad spike I pocketed in my jacket earlier tonight.
“So why don’t we just cut to the chase and you tell me the real reason you’re
in a place like this at this hour.”
“I’m out here to have a little fun with a
pretty thing like you,” he said evasively as he stalked closer to me, leaving
less than a foot of space between us. He smelled of earth and a little bit of
pine. But using my supersensitive sense of smell I picked up a hint of decay
and rot on his skin and a strong metallic scent in his breath.
“Why can’t they ever just give me a straight
answer and admit to being evil, murderous, bloodsucking monsters?” I asked
myself out loud. To him I said, “Okay, you have about five seconds to step away
from me before I get really pissed.” I had this thing about people invading my
personal space- I hated it. And it wasn’t doing much for my thinning patience.
“Or what? Let me guess. You have pepper
spray,” he so cleverly deduced, because all girls wondering the streets alone
at night are so defenseless that the only weapon they could possibly handle is
a can of pepper spray. He obviously hasn’t kept up with the times. He better be
careful not to run into beauty queens packing pink 38 Specials. Not that it
mattered now, because tonight, he ran into me.
In a flash, he moved around me standing so
close I felt that nasty, cool breath on my neck, and it made my skin crawl all
the way down my spine. With him behind me and not invading my entire sense of
smell, my survival instincts increased and I picked up on other scents
surrounding me. One of those old buildings either housed an Italian restaurant
or a resident who really loves cooking with garlic. It was a strong odor coming
off the nearby dumpsters along with other various food items past their
expiration dates. Unfortunately, the old myths don’t apply, and garlic would
not benefit me in fighting off these hard-to-kill bastards. But the good thing is
that they’re not impossible to kill.
“No, no pepper spray. How about a little
holy water, would that work?” I asked. It was always a risk to expose my
knowledge of them and their existence. If word spread through the underground
world that a human knew too much, let’s just say it would be very hazardous to
my health, but I didn’t intend to leave any survivors to pass that message
along.
He made a low, throaty growl in response and
managed a barely-contained verbal response that sounded like, “No, just try it
little girl.”
He was right. Although holy water can’t kill
them, it did seem to do a little damage. I always just assumed it had something
to do with them being evil, soulless creatures that could be burned by anything
consecrated or holy. I’ve never seen them hanging out near any churches, so
that was enough evidence for me. I wasn’t too big on questioning things. If it
was a tried and true method, I would incorporate it in my nightly practice.
He leaned forward, his retractable fangs
exposed, only a centimeter away from the bare skin on my neck. My heart beat
faster, not with fear, but with anticipation of the kill. He moved in with his
lips peeled back.
Okay, time’s up
. My patience was
officially spent.
“No? Well, if that won’t work how about this?”
I said, as I spun in one smooth motion, easily maneuvering out of his weak grip
on me. I didn’t think he was expecting much fight out of me. As I turned to
face him, I pulled the spike from my jacket and thrust it into his chest,
jamming it up under his ribcage where it pierced its target. I loved having the
advantage of the surprise attack. Besides the loose grip he had on me, one last
look in his jet black eyes and the shocked expression on his gaunt face told me
he really wasn’t expecting any trouble out of me. A moment later, he was a ball
of flames that instantly turned into a shadowy silhouette of a human-like
figure made of ash. There was a rapidly-diminishing scent of sulfur when I
sensed my next attacker.
He was approaching from behind, quickly. And
instantaneously, I sensed a third coming from the top of the nearest six-story
building to my left. Using the same railroad spike, I spun using the force from
the rapid twist of my body to fling the spike in the direction of the second
attacker’s heart. It only took a millisecond for my super senses to pinpoint
his heart and release the spike at the perfect angle. I didn’t have to watch to
know it was a bullseye because I never missed. That wasn’t bragging, just
bitterness. I was the perfect killing machine.
Before returning to my one-woman pity party,
I turned back toward the building and stepped to the right, just in time to
dodge the third assailant as he leapt down toward me. He didn’t have a chance
to right himself. I landed a roundhouse kick to his jaw that had enough force
to easily shatter human bones like the old single-pane windows in my shoddy
apartment. I had to give it to this one; he had a little more fight in him than
the others. Of course, I no longer had the element of surprise working for me.
He landed a punch just below my eyebrow. I
staggered back but was still on the offense. My elbow connected with his
temple, and I slammed my foot into his stomach with enough power to make him
hunch and curl in on himself. I grabbed the collar of his jacket while his head
was lowered and pulled his face forward as I rammed my knee into it. His brief
incapacitation gave me enough time to reach the extra spike tucked into my
right boot that was concealed under the leg of my jeans. It was always good to
bring a spare, or two. He started to throw a right hook but swung just a little
wide leaving his heart open for the staking. Easy target.
It appeared that would be all for tonight.
There was only about a half an hour before the sun would rise and they wouldn’t
risk the exposure. Now that the action was over, my heart rate slowed back down
to its normal beat. The atmosphere settled into a calm once again, and I was
able to allow my focus to wander back to my surroundings. My attention was
usually devoted to the hunt when I patrolled, so I didn’t always notice
anything else going on around me. But something was grabbing and yanking at my
attention now.
There was an eerie sort of silence. Well,
okay, all silence was eerie to me because it seemed to reflect my life,
mirroring it in all of its loneliness and solitude.
Before the melancholy completely set in, I
switched my iPod back on and focused more on the sights that couldn’t capture
my attention earlier. I gazed at the streetscape and noticed I was standing in
a wide corridor of early twentieth-century brick buildings evenly spotted with
rectangular windows all the way up the façade. Once my eyes reached the tops of
the buildings I noticed some had arched windows and were capped by a large
crown-molding ledge. Turning south off Washington Avenue I began my long walk
back toward my apartment down by the railroad tracks. I could easily run it in
less than half the time, but I needed to wind down.
Normally, those bastards came out earlier,
but there weren’t as many people out late on Sunday nights. Those three were
probably just waiting for the early Monday morning work crowd, which was
beginning to pick up a little more at the moment. I’ve seen that happen before.
Other than those three, tonight was a little slow.
I strolled through Laclede’s Landing on the
way back. The Landing always made me feel like I’ve stepped back in time. The
streets were made of cobblestone, and the street lamps were fashioned like old
gas-lit lanterns with wrought-iron posts. It made for a popular hangout spot in
downtown St. Louis, especially at night with all its bars and clubs.
The sidewalks were still fairly clear for
the moment. Most people were just buzzing by in cars, but around lunch time all
the little restaurants and cafes that lined these streets would be full.
Outdoor seating was available in some, but it was beginning to get colder with
the approach of the chilly October weather so most people won’t risk freezing
their asses off on the patios. Every once-in-a-while October will hold a few
unseasonably warm days, so these streets may come to life again a few more
times before dying off in the cold winter months.
I happened to have a very high tolerance for
cold and various other forms of discomfort and pain, so being outside during
those winter months doesn’t bother me like it would everyone else. It was yet
another reminder of how well I fit into this dark world I seemed to have been
sucked into since I can remember. It’s like I was born into this world, or
should I say nightmare, and for some unknown reasons I am drawn to it, which
was a little strange considering I was born on June 22, the summer solstice. It
felt a little like some sick cosmic joke that I would be born on the day with
the most amount of sunshine out of the entire year and then grow into a
creature of the night.
As the sun started to rise, rich colors
began to bleed into the once dull, washed-out colors of the dim pre-dawn light.
It casted early-morning shadows across the city as I walked up the narrow,
pot-hole spotted street with run-down discount shops and apartment buildings.
My apartment building was toward the end of the dead-end road, running parallel
with and 30 yards from the tracks. There are a few abandoned properties toward
the end of the road that have been run down over the years due to lack of
upkeep. These ruins appeared to have been old office buildings. It must have
become difficult to lease these types of properties with the close proximity to
the tracks.
My apartment could have made the vacancy
list if it weren’t for the few of us that didn’t mind loud rumbling trains and
loved the added bonus of the lower rent that came along with that. When I moved
in about a year ago, it was all I could afford as an eighteen-year-old fresh
out of the foster care system. I used part of the money I received from my
parents’ life insurance policies, but I don’t like to use it unless I really
need it so I got a job right after moving in.
The apartment building itself reminded me of
a two-story motel, except the exterior was composed of a dark brown brick
instead of the typical cheap siding with tacky colors found on motels. There
was even a catwalk on the second story that allowed for outside entrance into
the individual units.
I took the stairs to the catwalk two at a
time and headed down the metal grate to my corner one-bedroom unit. Inside, I
stepped on the heels of my carpenter boots, pulling my feet out of them, and
kicked them off to the side by the door. One hit the wall with a thud and sent
yet another chip of peeling white paint down to the dingy multi-colored carpet.
I yanked off my iPod, old holey jeans and shrugged out of my black leather
jacket exposing the tattered t-shirt underneath before closing the blinds of
the window by the door. I crossed the now dim-lit, sparsely furnished main room
and tossed my apartment key onto the breakfast bar opposite my kitchenette that
served as my dining table most nights. I turned down the hall that splits the
apartment in half. The first door on the left is the bathroom that connects to
my bedroom, which I use as my main path of entrance instead of the door at the
end of the hallway.