After Darkness Falls: After Darkness Falls Book One

by Sage, May

  The system let him in.

  As he was here earlier than usual, he took the opportunity to check on the patients, opening a live video feed.

  The main camera showed all seven cells on each level of his dungeons. Inside each cell was a vampire. Some looked very young, others ancient. Some were truly ancients, and others just days old.

  All were doomed.

  Everyone was asleep on the first and second levels. On the third, three of the seven were aimlessly wandering their cells, their gazes void, their steps awkward.

  Levi entered a few commands, and bags of blood dropped from the ceiling.

  Immediately, every creature in the level stirred, grunting, searching everywhere like animals, and then attacking the bags. Most of the blood fell on the floor. They licked it, mindlessly ravenous.

  Levi's eyes never gave away the slightest expression. He pressed on the recorder in his pocket to make a note. “Containment level three, five weeks after contamination. Subjects unstable. Remedy ineffective.”

  He shifted to the last level, which held only one vampire. A small boy of nine, or so he seemed. He was called Steven, and he was nineteen—not much older. A child, to his eyes.

  Levi pressed on the inter-phone, activating it.

  “Steven, are you with me today?”

  The boy lifted his head. “It's early. You're normally not talking to me before nighttime.”

  The room had no window, and the boy had been in there for a long time now.

  “How do you know when it's nighttime?”

  “I count,” the boy replied. “Every day, every night, I count. That's one way to distract myself.”

  Levi scribbled the word "counting" on his closest notepad.

  “How are you feeling today, buddy?”

  “Same,” the boy said. “Like I want to kill. I want to destroy everything. I want to get out of here. And then I want to hunt you down and tear you to pieces.”

  Of course he did.

  “Why don't you try?”

  The boy shrugged. “Because I know that when I lose it, you'll kill me.”

  Levi paused.

  “Do you know why you're here?”

  The boy nodded. “I do. That's why I'll keep on fighting as long as I can.”

  Levi hesitated before releasing the bag of blood.

  Steven watched it fall, then slowly, carefully, got up and grabbed it. He tore one side with his teeth and sucked on it neatly, not letting any of the blood drop.

  Levi watched him. Seven years had passed since he'd locked him up. Seven fucking years, and Steven was still holding it.

  The blood sickness that had turned so many vampires feral was irreversible, forever tainting their blood. Those who succumbed to it were killed on sight by huntsmen. The exceptions were the twenty-two subjects currently in his lab.

  Twenty-one of them might make it if Levi managed to figure out the formula that made Steven different.

  This was his priority. This. No one else. Nothing else. Not kingdoms, and queens, and brides.

  And certainly not Chloe Miller. His…problem.

  Oaths

  “And Art. I’m definitely taking Art. Have you seen what that dude did with his paintbrush?”

  After spending the day exploring the classes, Gwen was ecstatic, and Chloe overwhelmed. There were too many choices for her liking. They headed straight to the mailroom, where the unpleasant Martie grumbled a greeting.

  “How do I go about sending a message to Blair?” she asked him.

  “You write it. Can you write, newbie?”

  He seemed, if possible, more irritable than yesterday, maybe because some raven had quipped at her merrily. A small one—the same one she would have sworn had followed her to her dormitory the previous day—flew around her. She lifted her hand and the raven took the invitation, perching on her index finger.

  “Don't the talons hurt you?” Gwen asked. “My grandma keeps birds. They don't like me much, but they love my brother. He has loads of cuts from holding them, though.”

  Chloe looked at her hand. Indeed, the small talons did seem sharp.

  “No, I think this baby is being careful.”

  “Listen, Miller,” Martie grunted. “I've had this job for the last thirty years, and my uncle had it before me. We're servants of the Seven. You can't come here and take over.”

  She blinked, flabbergasted.

  “All right, glad you got that off your chest. But I'm here as a student; I have zero idea what sort of tricks you do to send these to the right people, and, anyway, no offense but your job is my idea of a nightmare. A boring nightmare. I have zero intention of stealing it.”

  “Swear it,” Martie demanded.

  Gwen opened her mouth to speak, but Chloe had already said, “I swear I'm not after your job.”

  The witch sighed. Martie smiled and handed her a blank piece of paper.

  “Well, write your stuff, then. I'll take care of it.”

  Chloe wrote to Blair, asking to meet her when she could free up some time, and Gwen did the same with her mentor.

  On their way down to Adairford a few minutes later, the witch told Chloe, “All right, I may be out of bounds here, but I figure someone should tell you. Never swear to a sup. Ever.”

  Chloe frowned. “Why?” She shrugged. “I'm not after his job.”

  Gwen sighed. “Because you don't know what the future holds, and this sort of vow can be trouble. Martie is a witch. I doubt he had a binding hex ready, but he could have. Your vow means that now, or in ten, or a hundred years, you cannot ever be after his job. Let's say Martie's tired of minding birds and decides to apply to a job in a while. Then you see that job posted online and you apply to it too?”

  Chloe couldn't see any of that happening, but for the sake of the argument, she asked, “So?”

  “So, you'd die, if those are the terms of the hex. Or, maybe you'd just wake up with pustules all over your face. Who knows? My point is, you don't want to find out.”

  Put like that, her warning was noteworthy.

  “Wow.”

  “Words have power. With your real name, your word, your blood, your soul…our kind can shape your future. You have to guard yourself against harm.”

  Chloe felt foolish and naive.

  “All right. Well, next time I say something stupid, please feel free to interrupt and let me know.”

  “Promise.”

  Chloe lifted a brow. “Can we promise, then?”

  Gwen broke into a grin. “Sure. To you, anyway.”

  Because she was the weakest thing in a ten-mile radius.

  “Hey, look. Sundown.”

  Behind the mountains, the sun was sinking deep in the lake. Chloe remembered Jack's offer.

  “Do you want to go to that race?” she asked Gwen.

  The witch grinned.

  “Hell yes. And you should. Jack fucking Hunter asked you.”

  The name meant nothing to Chloe, but evidently Gwen was familiar with it.

  “Is he a big deal?”

  “In London, definitely. He runs the city, with just a few dozen huntsmen under him. They're as powerful as mortals get, but their numbers have never been large, and they recruit once a year or so. I say if Jack wants to see you run, you show him what you got.”

  Chloe paused.

  “You mean to become a huntsman-thing?”

  That sort of thing had never crossed her mind. She wanted a high-stakes position in a successful company. Maybe own a business by the time she was fifty. Kicking naughty paranormal creatures into behaving wasn't her idea of a career.

  “That, and to show the rest of the Institute you're not a useless little newbie they can play with. There are vampires, werewolves, and so many other things here. You don't wanna look like prey? Taking a huntsman's challenge is a good start.”

  Gwen might have had a point.

  The problem was that she could run reasonably fast, and that was the extent of her skill set. If anyone did want to see what she was
capable of, she'd make a fool of herself. Staying on the sidelines made more sense. Besides…

  “I won't win.”

  It had been too long since she'd run; this morning had been pretty hard.

  “That's okay. Just don't lose.”

  Chloe pondered her options.

  “If you don't show up, I doubt Jack will ask again.”

  Very true. And if she did show up, she'd spend the evening drinking beer with some students after the race—whether she paid for it or not. It certainly beat going back to her room and replaying every single moment she'd rather bury as soon as she was alone. She couldn’t hold out hope for another miracle sleeping potion from Levi.

  “All right. Let's go before I change my mind.”

  Circling the dorm toward the forest, they found Jack with about twenty people, most of them wearing brown leather gear. Belatedly, Chloe realized that she wasn't dressed as well as she could be for running in her jeans and baby pink Converses. The snow had melted away on the roads, meaning there was probably mud in the woods. Pink and mud did not go well together.

  “Look who we have here. Just in time,” said Jack.

  Great. Just in time sounded like too late to back out or change shoes.

  “Crew, this is…” He turned to her. “What was that again?”

  She didn't think he'd asked her name in the first place. “Chloe.” She pointed to her new friend. “And Gwen.”

  “Right. Chloe, Gwen, this is Tris, Chris, Reiss, Ward, Bat, Bash…”

  He lost her halfway through.

  After the speedy introduction, he stated, “So, you know the deal. Five hundred to the winner, loser buys the drinks. No rules, but try to stay away from the northeast—the werewolves don't take kindly to strangers intruding on their territory.”

  Wait, werewolf territory?

  “Whoever gets to Lakehill first wins. Ethan is waiting at the finish line to determine a clear winner. On my mark!”

  Shit. That was not nearly enough information.

  “Get set!”

  “Where's Lakehill?” she screamed over Jack's counting.

  There were only three hills—Night Hill, then one at its right and another to its left. Jack pointed to the left one.

  “Two miles north. Through the woods, or down the path—but the path takes five miles. No rules. Get there first, you win. Got it?”

  Definitely not. Her mouth opened and said, “Yes.”

  “Good. Go.”

  A Little Detour

  Heart beating at a thousand miles an hour, she ran. She had no clue where to go, so she followed the handful of people ahead of her who seemed to know the way.

  She’d had a hard time with her morning run, but now it wasn't just about getting to the intro on time; it was about running against people, trying to beat them or at least outsmart them. It didn't matter that she didn't know these lands; cross-country was her thing. She'd always known where to step, how to avoid roots and use her surroundings to her advantage.

  In the distance, she saw a girl push one of the guys to the ground. He cursed her out loud, then got to his feet and set off after her. They were both laughing.

  Right. No rules. Chloe heard someone catch up with her and decided to veer off the set path. She could still see and hear the other runners, so she knew what direction to take, but at least she wouldn't be tripped over.

  Hopefully she wasn't heading toward a ditch.

  “What the hell do you think you're doing here?”

  Chloe stopped. She had come face to face with a rather tall and exquisite woman with dark blonde hair. She had scars all along her arms and was just wearing shorts with a tank top. Obviously, she was immune to the cold. A werewolf, no doubt.

  “Avoiding the others? They're tripping each other and…”

  “You know what you should avoid? Getting eaten, that's what. Stay away from the pack. Trust me on this.”

  Chloe wasn't very intimidated. “I have a lot of werewolf friends.”

  “Not here, you don't,” said the stranger. She looked behind her, watching the distance. With a sigh, the she-wolf said, “Come on. I'll show you out of here. Hopefully in one piece.”

  The woman truly seemed rattled by something. Chloe hesitated for a second but decided to follow her.

  “These damn arrogant hunter dudes,” the wolf grumbled. “They're taunting the pack with their runs around our land, always close to the full moon. Someday, they'll get what's coming to them.”

  “I meant no disrespect,” Chloe said carefully.

  “Yeah, right. This way.”

  They'd arrived at a hamlet, smaller than Adairford, with red brick homes that seemed newer than the buildings in town. The she-wolf put her finger to her lips in a shushing motion and walked quickly along the outer edge, behind the rows of houses.

  In the distance, Chloe could hear a voice say, “I smell something.”

  “That's those guys again,” another added. “I tell you, they're trying to prove a point. We should show them.”

  “Show Jack Hunter?” a woman said doubtfully. “Even if it would be easy to take him, what if his family—”

  They left the voices behind, jogging as silently as possible on the pebbled ground. Soon, they arrived on the other side, back to the woods. Chloe could see Lakehill through the trees.

  So, the she-wolf hadn't exaggerated. There was bad blood between huntsmen and weres around here.

  “I'm sorry. I didn't know I shouldn't have been there…”

  “Well, now you do. Stay away from these parts.”

  She nodded, and the she-wolf walked away.

  “Wait,” she called. “I'm Chloe.”

  The shifter watched her, clueless.

  “Your name?” she prompted.

  “Avani,” she said, then returned to her village without giving Chloe a second glance.

  Chloe tried not to take it to heart. She was a people person, and most of those she met tended to like her. When someone didn't, she felt like she'd failed in a way. A stupid point of view, really.

  Thinking of failure, Chloe resumed her run, heading toward the lighter spots between the trees in the distance, hoping to reach the hill before the last huntsman, at least.

  She emerged between two trees at the same time as Jack, who stared at her, baffled.

  “No way,” he said.

  Then his eyes returned to the hill in front of them. A dark-haired man was waiting less than five hundred feet away.

  Chloe's brain understood in a split second that she hadn't arrived last—she was first, tied with Jack. And whoever reached the guy would have five hundred shiny pounds right in their pocket.

  She didn't think she'd ever felt that much pressure in her entire life. She had to win. Had to.

  Chloe's heart beat hard, the cold wind slapped her face and her lungs burned, but she pushed and pushed and pushed harder, her feet hitting the ground like it was her sworn enemy, and finally…

  “And that's a tie!” said the dark-haired guy.

  Chloe didn't even try to stay on her feet, falling right on her ass and laughing on the ground.

  "Holy cheesecake."

  Jack, hovering over her, laughed, too.

  “Good run, Cheetah. And through the pack territory, too. Ballsy.”

  “Stupid,” she amended. Talking hurt, but she was too ecstatic to notice. “You can say stupid. I didn't know where I was going.”

  “Whatever. You survived without a bite, that's the main thing.”

  He extended his hand to help her up. The ground was starting to feel freezing, so she took it gratefully and thanked him.

  The huntsman pulled a roll of cash out of his suit jacket. She hadn't noticed, but he'd run in a damn suit.

  “We should split the money,” she suggested.

  Jack shrugged. “Nah, I only run for fun. The winner is whoever arrives first after me.”

  She inclined a brow, intrigued. What was this race about?

  But the rest of the huntsmen wer
e arriving, bearing equally puzzled expressions. Her question would have to wait.

  “No way.”

  “She won?”

  “Shit. Well done, newb.”

  “She went through the wolf territory.”

  Now, puzzlement gave way to horror and awe.

  “Holy shit. Did you have to outrun wolves?”

  She laughed.

  “No, actually. One of them helped me cross the village undetected.”

  They asked her to tell, and retell, every moment of her interaction with the wolf. Chloe didn't know why, but something told her to keep Avani's name out of it. If there really was an issue between wolves and huntsmen, it wouldn't do to say who had helped her. What if Avani got told off for it?

  Gwen arrived second to last, racing fast against a blonde huntsman who lost at the last second. Chloe found herself feeling rather guilty. The moment Jack had said "Go," she'd raced forward, completely forgetting about Gwen and leaving her behind.

  The witch didn't seem to mind, though.

  The walk back to Adairford was a lot of fun; the huntsmen were into teasing each other, punching each other, and no one excluded her or Gwen.

  “Love the hair, by the way,” said one of the girls. Natalie? Something like that. “Good luck getting an ombre like that in town, though.”

  Chloe laughed. Truth was, she’d had her hair cut but not colored. It grew dark at the roots, and then all its color faded, turning to dishwater blonde. Her father’s and brother’s hair was the same, but they'd both kept it short—and dark.

  She didn't mind now, but as a kid, it had sucked. Children have a way of teasing each other for being different. The prom queen types had many things to say about her bad dye job until she gave up and just started to color it brown.

  These days, she didn't care, and no one else seemed to either.

  “That won't be a problem,” she said, pointing to her head. “Natural color.”

  “Cool,” Natalie told her.

  The creature watching at the edge of the Wolvswoods narrowed his eyes.