Night Stalker (Dead Loves Life Book 1)

by R. L. Weeks

  “I don’t want to. The icy eyes, porcelain skin, sucking energy through the chest – it’s creepy.”

  He tilted his head. “You saw one, didn’t you?”

  I gulped. “I… No, I had a dream, that’s all.”

  He smiled excitedly. “You scared her off, didn’t you?”

  I opened my mouth and pointed my finger at him, but then I lowered my arm. He was right. “How did you know?”

  He swept his blond hair back. “I have so much to tell you.”

  My curiosity spiked a little. I was only human after all. “What are you, anyway? Like, what is a Night Stalker?”

  “Demons. Kind of like Vampires, but we don’t drink blood. We’re souls left behind from violent deaths. Our energy isn’t let out; it’s contained.” He paused and rubbed his eyes. “A few hundred years ago, there was a tribe of ancient warriors that lived deep in the Amazon rainforest. When they died violent deaths, and didn’t make peace with their life ending so soon, they would remain in limbo as ghosts. It’s a fate worse than death.”

  He sucked in a deep breath. “I read about it in a history book. The tribe leader – Asuman – was murdered by his brother. He remained as a ghost, and watched while his brother took his wife as his own. Just two-days after Asuman was killed, his brother went to kill their newborn, as he was jealous of the attention his brother’s child got. Asuman begged the gods for the power to protect the child. However, Lilith, Queen of the Demons, heard his pleas instead. She agreed to grant him immortality in exchange took his soul. Asuman became the first Night Stalker. He killed his brother.” Scorpio’s eyes darkened. “But, it wasn’t enough. His thirst for more energy grew daily, and soon he’d killed the entire tribe along with his wife and child. His soul darkened so much that he became the first vampire. He became the leader of the night creatures and swayed all others that had died violent deaths and remained behind as ghosts to hand over their souls to Lilith and become Night Stalkers.” He paused and stared at me icily. “You see, not all Night Stalkers are Vampires, but all Vampires are Night Stalkers. It’s what happens when you lose your soul through evil acts.”

  A shiver slithered down my spine. “I don’t want to be a Night Stalker.”

  “It’s that – or death.”

  I stood up. “You still haven’t told me how I fit into this all.”

  He nodded and stood up, more gracefully than I ever could. “If you won’t jump now, you will want too – it’s jump in the well and die a violent, yet quick death by alligators – or die another violent death. You need to decide soon, as in within days, not weeks.”

  “Why take souls from the living?”

  He exhaled loudly. “Because, we need it to continue this existence. If not, we are just stuck here, transparent, with no ability to touch, to see…” He laced his finger along my cheek. “To feel.”

  “What am I?”

  “Something entirely different.”

  “I raised an eyebrow. “How do you take a soul? Through the hand thing?”

  He shook his head. “That – I’m about to show you.”

  Chapter Three

  George strutted into the room. The poppy bruise on his head from the crash was the only evidence that he had, in fact, died. Scorpio took me down some long corridors until we reached what I could only describe as a massive ballroom. A piano stood by the red curtains in front of a stage that reached across one of the long walls. Hundreds of seats were lined up, as if a show was about to start.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” George rushed over to us. “You can’t bring her in here. The show starts in twenty minutes.”

  “Exactly,” Scorpio said and stood in front of me defensively. “With the other humans here, they won’t be alarmed by an extra heartbeat. We can keep her out of sight.”

  George growled. “No.”

  Scorpio stepped forward. “She needs to see the truth. She’ll never jump without it.”

  “Fine,” he said, giving in. “Keep her hidden. If you’re caught with her, they’ll destroy us both.”

  Scorpio nodded.

  I gazed at George. My heart ached. He didn’t look at me like he used to. George looked me up and down expressionlessly, then walked away, leaving me with half the heart I used to have.

  “Casey,” Scorpio said, snapping me out of the memories of George and me on lazy Sunday mornings.

  “Sorry, yes?”

  His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t probe. I knew he had peeked inside my head. “You need to be careful.”

  “Can you not invade my mind please?”

  He half-smiled. “I only do it when your subconscious takes over – when you daydream or when you’re asleep.”

  I gulped. “Oh. Well, still.”

  His expression darkened. “If you want to live, you must do exactly what I say. Now…” He placed his icy-cold fingers on my shoulder. “You won’t like what you’re about to watch, but it will help you in making your decision.”

  I nodded. “Sure, but I still don’t know why a decision is needed. I’m happy being a human.”

  “You’re already in deeper than you realize.” We heard noises from the other side of the room, and Scorpio ushered me into a back room. “More on that later. Stay hidden.”

  I slid behind the wall and peeked out at the room. Scorpio left, and I tried to quieten my breathing. My heart was pounding to the sound of the drums that had started as Night Stalkers and Vampires poured into the room, taking their places at their tables.

  The Vampires sipped blood from cocktail glasses, and the Night Stalkers took energy from the few dazed humans who were brought in by an Italian man with black hair and a bulging stomach.

  I slipped away from the doorway and pressed my back against the stone wall. I tried to calm myself.

  The drums pounded louder and the bustling and chatter grew more intense. A roar of applause caught my attention. I peeked around the corner and saw the curtains pull back.

  A petite woman with mousy-brown, shoulder-length hair was brought onto the stage, followed by cheering and applause. She looked around at her porcelain-faced audience and sobbed hysterically.

  "Ladies and Gentlemen," the Italian man said as he walked onto the stage and over to the woman, who looked like she could barely stand. "We have some very special guests tonight." He smiled broadly, bunching up his elastic-like cheeks. "The first is Jane, a stay at home mom from Greenwich."

  At that, Jane burst into tears. "Please, I just want to go home. I won’t tell anyone about any of this. I promise." She dropped to the ground, crying into her palms.

  The Italian man, unfazed, turned back to his audience. “She is going to go through seven different trials. If she succeeds, she will get to leave here alive.”

  The audience booed.

  “But,” he said, stretching out his arms. "Do not be disheartened, for these tasks will test every part of her being. If she does break,” he paused for dramatic effect, “one of you will get to take her soul for yourself."

  Jane screamed and tried to run off stage but was forced back on by two other men from the side of the stage.

  The audience cheered loudly. "Now," the Italian man said. "We will begin taking bids. The one who bids the most on what task she will break on will get her soul, should they win. She will be taken to the dark room in the west wing to sample for those who want to bid.” He continued grinning, drawing everyone in. "She has lived an innocent, simple life and has an excellent record. I assure you, her soul will be delicious."

  My heart was racing as Jane was dragged off stage. I guessed that the purer the human, the better they tasted to the Night Stalkers.

  The man spoke again as the curtains started closing. "Before the tasks begin, we have two special guests." He gestured to the side of the stage. "A battle between two Polong."

  My eyebrows shot upward, but the curtains closed. What the hell were Polong?

  The curtains were drawn back, and a beautiful woman with flowing red hair walked onstage ca
rrying a platter with two objects covered with a red silk cloth. Everyone gasped in amazement as the cloth was ripped away.

  Two bottles, each containing a tiny humanoid creature, were placed on the ground. The Italian man walked back on stage, and everyone cheered.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen,” he began. “Our special guest, Jane, has been bid on by several players. We wish them the best of luck. Now…” He lowered his voice. The lights dimmed and drums pounded. “Behind me we have two Polong. They have been alive for one year and were created by two humans, then captured by us. They have not been fed blood for two weeks, so are starving. These small, yet destructive creatures will be battling to the death for your entertainment this evening. Aurora will be coming around to take bids from you all.” He lifted one bottle, and the little vampire-like girl inside hissed and scratched at the glass. “This little one was created by her human master from the blood of a murdered victim of a serial killer.”

  Everyone leant forward to get a better look.

  “She has killed twenty-three men, women, and children since her birth. Put your hands together, for Maya.”

  Everyone cheered, and he placed the bottle down and lifted the second one. A little Vampiric girl, the size of a water bottle, did not scratch or hiss like her opponent had, but instead stared out icily at the audience.

  “She may not look dangerous,” the Italian man said and lowered his voice, “but she is ruthless and calculating. Created by a high-school teacher, she possessed the teacher’s class of students and made them kill each other only weeks after her birth. Give it up for Limin.”

  He placed the bottle down and waited for the cheering to stop. “You may now all place your bets.”

  I looked at the stage. I would have betted on Limin myself. Horrified I’d even contemplate bidding, I looked back at the Italian man. That sadistic bastard could really put on a show, though.

  Night Stalkers must have had an excellent memory because the woman who went around collecting bids didn't write anything down, just took the drachma.

  Everyone sat down at their tables, and some beckoned for the humans who were standing at the edge of the room to be brought to them. They walked over, trembling, and the night stalkers took a little of their energy.

  I spotted Scorpio and George walking in. Scorpio glanced at the doorway where I was standing, then sat down at the table with a woman, George, and three other men.

  George wrapped his arm around the woman with black hair and big breasts and took some energy from a human. As I focused in on the woman, my heart pounded. I realized where I recognized her from. She was the woman who had touched him that night in Asia, the one who had made me stay still against my will, the one whom I was convinced was still watching us through the window as we...

  Rage surged through me. Had he planned his death?

  I almost ran out at that point. Tears fell down my cheeks, but my instincts forced me to stand still with my back against the wall. I tried to stop the tears, to steady my breathing, but it hurt. My whole chest ached.

  He had lied to me. I had spent a year in turmoil while he was off with his lover, feeding off humans without even a thought for me.

  There was nowhere for me to run, so I listened instead of watching. The Italian man shouted over the audience, "And let the battle... begin!"

  I could hear the two little Vampire girls, who were no bigger than ten inches tall, hissing, screaming, and growling, until finally there was silence, followed by a mix of cheering and booing.

  "Limin wins," the Italian man announced.

  I stayed behind the wall, scared to move, terrified to watch what was next and even more terrified to see George with his hand on that whore.

  After two hours of fights, bets, and singing from a Vampire named Jamal, or something like that, Jane was brought back on stage.

  I peeked around the doorway, wanting to be her silent watcher, a fellow human who felt her pain and humiliation – one who was silently betting on her survival.

  Jane was pale. She could barely stand, and her white dress was covered in blood.

  “The first task for Jane is called to jump or not to jump.”

  Jane was lifted onto a chair, and a noose was hung around her neck.

  “Your youngest is called James, correct Jane?” the Italian man asked with what seemed like a slither of compassion.

  She nodded and sobbed. “Please don't hurt him.”

  He grinned, the compassion clearly a facade. “Well that, Jane, is up to you.”

  She touched the noose around her neck and cried hysterically. “Please, I just want to go home.”

  “I know,” the Italian man cooed. “The task is simple. You jump – and die – and your youngest will be saved. If you choose not to jump, our people who are by your house right now will kill little James, but the rest of your family, including you, will be safe. If you do jump, you and your eldest daughter will die tonight. You have one minute to make your choice.”

  The sound of a clock ticking loudly echoed around the ballroom. Jane looked like she was about to pass out. I kept my hand over my mouth to prevent myself from screaming out at any given moment.

  Jane stood shakily as tears fell down her sore, red cheeks. Hesitantly, she lifted one foot off the chair and whispered what looked like a prayer.

  Then, she jumped.

  The audience laughed as Jane fell onto the floor. The noose hadn’t been tied to anything. "Excellent choice. You survived the first task."

  She sat up and cried harder. "My daughter, please..."

  The Italian man grinned. "Onto the next task."

  I slumped back against the wall. The emotional torture that poor woman was being put through – it was sickening. I would never, ever become one of them. I'd rather be dead.

  The next task was just as horrifying as the first. The woman was given a gun, and another human, a girl around ten years old, was brought onto the stage, whimpering.

  "Now, Jane," he said loudly, "you have saved your youngest, James. Your second youngest is David, correct?"

  She fell to the floor clutching the gun. The Italian man pulled her up and continued. "Shoot this girl, that you don't even know, and David will be safe."

  Jane had to be held up by two men. She took the gun, her hands trembling, and pointed it at the head of the young girl who was being restrained by two men.

  "I'm so sorry," Jane cried hysterically, her chest heaving. “Lord, forgive me.”

  She pulled the trigger. Again, nothing happened. The gun was empty, and the girl was taken from the stage, unconscious. She had passed out

  Jane curled into the fetal position. “Just kill me,” she begged. Her nose was blocked, and she was struggling to breathe. “Let me die. I don’t want to do this. I almost murdered someone.”

  "Ladies and Gentlemen, the winning bidder was Modarius, who bet on Jane to only make it to task two."

  Modarius, a plump, short, bald man stood up and bowed.

  “Please,” the Italian man said, “come and collect your prize.”

  That's when I realized: They weren’t betting on people winning the tasks, they were betting on when someone would be so emotionally broken that they would just give up. Filled with fear, that's when they could take their soul. If she had remained fearless, as Scorpio had said he wanted me to do, she could have walked away. They couldn’t have taken her whole soul, only a small amount of her energy.

  Modarius took Jane, and his expression darkened. His face changed, turning thinner, and gray, and his eyes blackened. He placed his mouth over Jane, and I watched as she went limp. I was transfixed. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. Her eyes dulled of color, and her body sucked in until she was gaunt. Modarius, finally done, discarded her body on the floor and looked up, his face returning to normal. He looked full of life, as if he had been born again.

  The room slowly emptied, and then someone walked into the room I was in. I jumped up, panicked, and saw it was Scorpio.

  I want
ed to shout, scream, and run out of there, but instead I burst into tears and fell into his arms.