Hearts Eclipsed: A Beautiful Nightmare Companion Novel

by L. C. Son

  With my heightened hearing, the sound of racoons and skunks clearing paths through wooden lots on their nightly prowl meet my ears with more speed than the vermin employ. But they are not the only ones traipsing through the verge. Rogue Skull peer from their den holes just as bloodthirsty Scourge sleuth through the City seeking their nightly pound of flesh.

  The wind howls incessantly, bringing with it the aromatic scent of freshly spilled blood. Although the smell wafts past me as a delicious invitation, I know better than to give in to the temptation it brings. Faint screams ring through my ears as Scourge make their murderous presence known. I grimace at the thought of life surrendered to the fate of such savagery, but I know what comes next.

  Most Scourge will not live through the night. If their end doesn’t come by the hand of the Guardians, it will come from their own kind—or that of the Skull.

  Every night is a battleground; a turf war. Only one can be crowned victor. And while it is likely the most invisible and thankless of duties, the Guard marks a feat notably with each passing night.

  But tonight, something is different. Something—some force is stirring on the horizon. Something is coming. I can feel it in my gut. I can smell it in the air.

  Perhaps it’s the nearing of the full moon in two days, I don’t know. After all, it is typical for the nightlings to take extra precaution in preparation of the wolves in full bloom. Even rogue Scourge and Skull know better than to hunt on the night of the wolf.

  It could be Decaux’s lingering threat. Tonight was evidence that he intends to wreak havoc on the very balance he goads me to secure. Still, there feels like there’s something else amiss. Every fabric of my Altrinion being tells me to prepare for what is coming next, but I feel ill-equipped to do so.

  I wish I could put a finger on it. Sure, Jerrica’s divulgement didn’t help matters and I hate myself for lambasting she and Braelyn, but there’s still something more. Even the current of the wind warns me of this growing threat. And for the might in me, I sense its looming power is something even I cannot fathom.

  I take in a deep breath, wholly inhaling the fullness of night as it fills my lungs. The familiar and ever-growing sounds of the tussling of the Guardians against the demons of night bring me a solace in knowing Decaux hasn’t bested me as much as he thinks. My chest swells with pride knowing it is the methods I alone employ giving balance between the supernatural and mortal world.

  Despite tonight’s misadventures I refuse to allow my brother’s scheming to make me doubt the advances we’ve made so far.

  “Well, I hope you’ve gotten some perspective while you’re out there breathing in the night air.” Hearing Braelyn’s chiding comments are the last thing I want or need to hear right now.

  And I was just coming along to a fairly good mood too.

  I gulp in the late summer’s muggy air lingering in my throat and swallow hard before turning around to meet her wary gaze.

  “And just what type of perspective would you propose, young one?” I snide, leaning back against the terrace railing, staring at her through my French doors.

  “Perhaps one that accompanies the huge apology you obviously owe Jerrica!”

  “What should I be apologizing for this time, Braelyn? Do tell.”

  “Looks like somebody’s still in a mood! I mean, really, I knew you and the B-man never really got along but you’re totally letting all this stuff with your brother and Jerrica put you in a frigging funk!”

  “Really? Well, I’ll have you know I was actually starting to feel better until a little goth-faced girl from munchkin land decided to come upstairs for no other reason than to lay into me!”

  Braelyn twists her nose, slightly irritated she can’t find a snippy retort to match. She lives for our frequent feuds, but I can tell she’s more serious than I suspected. She plucks her fingers through the lacing of her gloves and stares around the room, likely searching for the right response.

  “Look Big D, I know you really don’t want to hear about finding true love and all the stuff that goes with it—trust me—I get it more than I let on. More than you know. But this is bigger than you. If nothing else, Decaux has shown he intends to make good on his threats. I mean why else would he go after Abahana? He knew that going after Abahana could potentially reignite a turf war with the wolves. They’re not just gonna sit idly by on this one. Like Brian, they will demand retribution.”

  “Don’t you think I know that, Braelyn? I’m doing everything I can!”

  “Except giving the people something—someone to believe in! Supernatural or not, if we’re not fighting for love in its truest form, we’re no better than the demons at our door! I know you can see them all from here rummaging through the night like the vile feigns that they are. And if we aren’t careful, we’ll be just like them!”

  “So that’s your grand answer? True love? Is that what we’re supposed to be fighting for?” My haughty laugh falls flat to the scowl marring Braelyn’s normally bubbly persona.

  “I don’t know what’s worse, the fact that you don’t know the answer to your own question or the fact that you even have to ask.” Braelyn’s large, tear-pooled eyes stare back at me with almost the same vulnerability she had earlier, yet this time I also sense her disappointment piercing straight through me.

  Words fail to form a response as her sentiment stings my soul, crushing my would-be heart. As much as I’d like to give in, I know I shouldn’t. I can’t. I must hold my ground—they need to fear me.

  It’s for their good. Or at least that’s what I’ll tell myself until this matter with Decaux is at an end.

  Before Braelyn’s tears have a chance to freefall or worse, she crosses the threshold of the terrace, I leap over the iron railing and land in the center of the overgrown maze garden. Sharp Greenbriar thistle and thorns tear through my shirt as I wrangle myself free of its vines, making my way to the street side.

  Gazing at the mansion, I can feel both Jerrica and Braelyn’s lament vibrate through me. Still, without returning to the monster they once knew, I know I must become the man they have long feared. Ripping the torn shirt from my body I toss it over the fence.

  Racing through the streets with movement too quick for human eyes to detect, my body pulsates with the fury of the Altrinion force raging within me, propelling me in one fluid motion. Electricity fuels me as my body shimmers with blue lightning coursing through my veins and my reddened skin beams with a radiant glow. And while the curse prevents me from standing in the sun, the lingering semblance of its lifeforce pulsating through my being reminds me of the awesome power dwelling deep within me.

  One screeching yelp followed by the harrowing cry of a Scourge’s victim is all I need to stop me in my tracks. I dart through a narrow alleyway and find two Scourge’s harping atop two young lovers. The smell of freshly spilled blood feathers my nose, causing my fangs to elongate and my tongue to slither at its invitation.

  I leap onto the large green trash receptacle and pull one vampire from the young man, puncturing my hand through its chest as it combusts into flames. The lingering smell of pheromones lets me know the pair were likely caught off-guard during a make-out session. The young man was hardly able to put up a fight. He’s ripped in two. There’s no chance he’ll survive the night. He reaches out toward me, calling for help through wispy breaths. But it is his last.

  The young woman works hard, squirming and hitting the other Scourge with all her might but falls down when it scratches her body, releasing its debilitating venom into her pores. Just as it opens its mouth, I rip through its neck, severing the head from the body and toss its ashing corpse aside.

  Unable to move, the woman lies still, whispering a small “Thank you,” through bated breath. But the smell of both her bloody wound and the seduction it brings are too tempting to pass. Even more, she’s seen my face—my true face. Truthfully, I don’t even have the will to comp
el her to forget what she’s seen tonight.

  The fragrance of her blood calls to my carnality with wicked delight. Although her eyes plead with me to spare her this torment, alas I cannot. I am on her before the forming tears in their ducts can escape. Her young, lustful flesh brings me pleasure as her warm blood coats my throat as I savor every drop.

  I feel her lifeforce leave her as I take in the second to last drop, just before her heart stops. Though she’ll never know it, she should be thankful that I took her life instead. The torment the Scourge deliver is more than ruthless—it’s savage. I palm her face to close her eyes as I stand to my feet, enjoying the endowment of power her blood brings as it fills my being.

  Before I can loiter in the strength her blood brings, I hear low husky snarls echoing through the crevice of the alleyway.

  Skull wolves.

  I breathe in the haunting effervescence of spilled blood and belt out a ravenous roar. I’m still hungry and these wolves will be a welcome complement to my meal.

  Or at least serve as a late-night snack.

  Chapter 8

  Jackson

  A current of wind brings the delightful fragrance of her scent straight to my nostrils. Yet, there is something twangy in her pheromones that is unfamiliar to me. Fear. Sure, I’ve smelled it before but never from her. Ever. My tail stiffens at the thought of her frightened. Why is she afraid? Why can’t I see her?

  Where is she?

  Sniffing along the meadow’s ridge, I tip my paws through the newly laid leaves. My heart pounds within me and I fear something terrible has happened to her. The wind shifts and the mist of water freshly beaten at the cliff’s edge tickles my nose, dampening my coat. The breezy gusts overtake me and the golden leaves swirl, funneling around me like mini tornadoes.

  Kicking my hinds behind me, I try foolishly to combat the leafy monsoon surrounding me as an iridescent cloudy fog forms before me, blurring my view. The leaves rustle around like the sound of sandpaper scraping against rocks. I continue pushing my paws through the twister of golden leaves, each one sounding like shattered glass as my paw connects, breaking every leaf I touch.

  The growing smell of her fear becomes more pronounced as the windy torrent bashes me with her scent, striking me blow after blow. Though I can’t hear her screams, I know she needs me. I need to be with her.

  While we were once allies, tonight nature preys upon me as the lion does the antelope. I am no one’s prey. Especially not tonight. The wind forces me backward, sending its golden leaves like arrows but I’ve had my fill of this nature induced assault. A loud barking roar rushes through me and the blaring winds come to a screeching halt.

  Instantly, the leaves fall to the ground, adorned like a pathway and I follow its leading. Damina’s aroma blooms upon my nose as I near the Golden White Oak.

  Finally, I see her.

  Her grip is tight around the large bark and I watch with trepidation as she struggles to maintain her hold.

  “Hold on!” I howl, but she doesn’t understand. A small smile forms in the corners of her mouth and for a second I see that she is happy to see me. Oh, what I would give not to be in wolf form! I wish she knew it was me, her Jackson, standing before her now.

  She wiggles as her feet dangle, working hard to keep her small arms cradled around the bough. I howl once more. I know she doesn’t understand or know it’s me, but I want her to keep her eyes on me, if for nothing but her protection. The calmer she is the better.

  With helplessness, I watch wondering how I can help her. As I ponder options, the wind-wrought feign returns. This time the blustery foe is not alone. Creeping snarls with threatening red eyes to match, embark around me as dark clouds fill the night sky. My tail stiffens once more, and I growl, warning the new predators to keep away. Their ravenous snarls continue, but they remain wary of me and rightfully so.

  I will not allow them to harm even one strand upon her body.

  I take a few steps toward her, but the wind creates a buffer between me and Damina, blocking my path forward, pushing me back. I growl again but this time my sound is made mute by the howling winds. Still powerless, I watch as Damina’s eyes grow wide with fear. I know she wants me to help her, but I cannot.

  There is nothing I can do.

  Another force-filled wind howls through the meadow and the cackling snarls of the creatures around us grow louder. Though I feel their threat looming around me, I don’t look back, I must keep my sights on her.

  But the last gust is her undoing, and she falls from the cliffside as I watch, impotent with fear.

  “Um, Jack-O, can I ask what in the hell is going on here?” Gregory whispers through the menacing snarls surrounding us.

  “Quiet, Gregory. Stay very still,” I quietly reply, motioning my hand for him to remain calm.

  The pack of coywolf encircling us yip and howl in our direction. Some are noticeably defensive, others curious. Most have likely never seen a wolf transform into a man. Nestled in a sheet of leaves and twigs, Gregory had just found me asleep under a hollow tree. In his typical brusque fashion, he was so concerned about not seeing my naked body that he startled the already watchful beasts when he threw my clothes on my face.

  I’m not sure how long they’ve been watching me. Nor do I know what they’ve seen thus far. It’s been a while since I’ve phased in a public area like this. I’ve been such a stickler for only shifting in designated pack soil and dens that I’m just as surprised to find myself here as my canine kin gazing back at me.

  There have been stories of coyote- timber wolf hybrid packs in the deepest wooded acreage of Rock Creek Park, but this is the first time I’ve ever seen them. While wolves have always been known to take necessary measures to ensure their survival, mating outside wolfen kin isn’t customary. Why would a coyote integrate with a wolf? For what purpose? My instincts tell me they must have faced a predator that pushed them to such a brink.

  Instantly, my heart aches and I wish I could help them, but as a rule I know non-domestics are untrusting of others.

  I can’t say I blame them.

  A larger coywolf snarls deeply and approaches me with its tail high and stiff.

  “Be careful, Jackson!” The animal snarls once more, this time his sneering intended for Gregory. Gregory takes a step closer to my side, but the coy yelps in his direction but keeps his sights set on me.

  “It’s okay, Gregory. He just wants to check me out, make sure I can be trusted is all,” I whisper over my shoulder, not allowing our eyes to part.

  “You say that now. Let’s see if you’re so brave when he starts chomping on your man jewels!”

  “You’re okay, aren’t you fella?” I answer as the coy takes a half-moon gallop around me, inhaling a great deal of my scent as he dawdles back and forth. He yips again, this time with a more distinct howl mingled in his cadence as he tips his paw down near my feet and sniffs around. I lower myself slightly to meet his golden eyes and blocky snout.

  I offer him my hand and Gregory takes another step forward. I know he wants to stop me, but he only remains guarded. The coy whiffs my hand quickly and tips his paws back slowly and submits. Both Gregory and I stare in awe as the remaining pack follow suit.

  “Whoa, Jack-o! I don’t know what just happened here, but I’ve never seen anything like this before,” Gregory says over my shoulder, his eyes ablaze with wonder.

  “I think we just made a new friend,” I laugh as I rub the lead coy’s fur and watch as he and the rest trek around the wooded lot playfully.

  “Well, heck man put on some clothes already before somebody sees us!”

  “No worries, we should be fine. The park doesn’t open for another few hours. Besides, I want to try back at Damina’s or head to the church just in case she shows up.” Snatching my shorts from the ground, I pull them up around my waist and tighten the drawstring while Gregory turns his
back, giving me privacy.

  “Um, Jack, I don’t know how to tell you this, but I doubt you’ll find her at the church or at her place.”

  “Oh, really? Did you find out where she went last night? I can’t explain it, but my mind feels clearer than ever. I know it may take some convincing but I’m sure we can just talk it out.” I yank my shirt over my shoulders and slide my feet into my tennis and turn Gregory around so that we are face to face. His glazed eyes and the quivering of his lips send an icy chill up my spine. “What Gregory? What’s wrong?”

  “Damina’s not at the church. She’s not even at her place. Delia’s there now.”

  “Well, Delia can keep watch at Damina’s place. I’ll head to the church just in case Damina gets there ahead of schedule. We were supposed to take pictures early, so she might show up. I know she’s probably still pissed at me but there’s no way I’m not going down the aisle with her today—just as we planned!”

  “That’s just it, Jackson. You didn’t plan on going down the aisle today.”

  “Gregory, now you’re not making any sense. I know I phased out of norm yesterday, but one night’s run didn’t make me forget that today is my wedding day.”

  “Jack, it’s not your wedding day!”

  “So what are you saying? Did she officially call off the wedding?”

  “You had more than one night’s run. You’ve been in form since that night. It’s Sunday, Jackson.”

  “What! Wait! Are you trying to tell me that I shifted straight through my wedding day?”

  “Yes, Jackson, that’s exactly what I’m trying to say.”

  Dalcour

  The loud vibration of my phone in my pocket is a most wicked sound. Even the rattling of it knocking against my keys make the word nuisance seem innocent in comparison. While sometimes helpful, it’s definitely my least favorite of the twenty-first century. More so, the fact I never get a reprieve because of this fascinating little invention vexes me to my core.