THE IMMORTAL: A Novel of the Breedline series

by Shana Congrove

  Sophie looked up at Jena. “I can’t move.”

  Jena quickly reached for Sophie’s arm and pulled with all her strength. “Please, Sophie,” she pleaded. “You’ve got to get up!”

  In horror, Jena watched as the man-wolf got closer, looking hungrily at Sophie. Of all the terrors Jena felt, the greatest one, as she stared into that evil face, was that she was going to have to leave her friend behind. Torn between the decision to stay with Sophie or to run away, she had to make a choice.

  “I’m sorry, Sophie,” Jena said. Her voice was pain-stricken and full of regret. Then she released Sophie’s arm and forced herself to run.

  As she ran, it started to rain, but she could still hear Sophie’s violent screams. Jena’s heart clenched in her chest, and her eyes misted with tears. She felt guilty about abandoning her. My God, please, she painfully thought. Someone help us.

  Jena tugged at the brim of her ball cap to help shield her face against the rain as it began to downpour. She ran blindly, stumbling across uneven ground, weaving between headstones, barely able to see where she was going. All she could think of was an escape, but there were no exit signs posted in the cemetery, just rows and rows of graves. Suddenly, she heard heavy footsteps coming from behind. At first, she thought it was only the sound of rain pounding against her eardrums, until suddenly they seemed to have a dreadful purpose, and she realized they were getting closer. Releasing a heavy gasp, she struggled forward as fast as she could.

  A new fear began to rise in Jena when she heard long, guttural breaths all around her. As she plunged on through the rain, dark clawed hands appeared from the mists. It grabbed the long strands of her ponytail and detached the ball cap from her head. She cried out in pain but managed to pull free and resumed her endeavor to get away.

  Without warning, Jena felt a searing pain slice through her shoulder, pain so intense she couldn’t even scream. It was as if waves of fire burned through every nerve and muscle in her body. Jena tried to brace herself, but she slid on wet leaves and pitched forward. It seemed as though she fell for a suspended time until she finally landed on a floor, cushioned with mushy, saturated dirt. For a second she kept still, too shocked to move, then slowly she reached forward to push herself up. Gasping, she lifted her head and stared in horror. Even in the darkness, she realized where she had fallen. It was an open grave. That’s when she heard the voice again.

  “It’s okay, Jena. You’re safe now.”

  As Jena paused to listen, she felt a sudden chill crawl up her spine. She watched in fear as a girl’s arm lifted slowly and reached out to her.

  “Listen,” the girl whispered, but her lips did not move, yet Jena could hear her as though she was speaking aloud. “You must listen to what I tell you. You’ve been bitten.”

  Jena could hardly see anything in the darkness, only brief flashes of the girl’s features as the lightning flickered over her ghostly white face and the gaping wound to her throat. It was so deep you could see the raw, gruesome flesh and a glimmer of bone. She could feel the girl’s eyes upon her, sensing her death, and the death tonight, drowning in it, drowning in all the death. Jena wanted to close her eyes, but she found she could not look away.

  “Who are you?”

  “Carla,” the girl said, but her lips did not move. “I’m the girl you came here for.”

  “But how?” Jena whimpered. “Carla Rosi is dead.”

  “Please listen to me, Jena. You’ve been cursed,” Carla murmured. “And I’m here to help you.”

  Confused, Jena shook her head, her thoughts spinning in all directions. “What are you talking about? What curse?”

  “The curse of the Rougarou,” Carla told her. “If you give in to human blood—and I promise you will crave it with a burning desire—you will shift into the creature.”

  Tears ran down Jena’s cheeks and mixed with the raindrops that fell from the sky. “Are you saying I’m going to turn into that... thing?”

  “Only if you consume the blood or flesh of a human,” Carla continued to explain. “Not only does the curse bring forth the beast, it gives its victim the power to transform into various nocturnal animals and also assume a cloud of misty smoke, or fog. It possesses the power of superior strength, and imperviousness to disease, and the ability to heal instantaneously from any bodily wound of any severity. Jena, you only have one hundred and one days to control your hunger. Do you understand what I’m saying? If you resist the urge within that time frame, the curse will be lifted.”

  “This is insane. This can’t be happening,” Jena sobbed. “Why are you saying these things?”

  “Because, Jena, it’s real.”

  “No, no, no,” Jena babbled. “It’s not real. This is all a nightmare.”

  “Please, Jena.” Carla grabbed Jena’s wrist and lightly squeezed. It felt cold and clammy against her skin. “I don’t have much time. You must believe what I’m telling you. All this is real. Promise me, you will take my warning seriously.”

  Jena nodded. “Okay, I promise.”

  “What happened tonight is not your fault, Jena. You could not have saved your friends. Nobody could. But you gave me peace.”

  “Who did this to you, Carla?” at last her words choked out, consumed with sadness.

  “The creature,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper. Seconds later, Carla’s glassy eyes shifted away to something far beyond, something Jena couldn’t see. As her eyelids slowly closed, Jena could have sworn she smiled.

  Dazed and weak, Jena took a deep breath and shut her eyes, but she couldn’t shut out Carla’s words that echoed over and over in her mind.

  You’ve been bitten... the curse of the Rougarou... human blood and flesh...

  She didn’t want to believe it. But she had to, because to accept what she’d just seen in the cemetery was too horrifying to deal with. And there was a young, dead girl, lying beside her that had been missing for years. Jena prayed that someone would find her. She wasn’t going to die in this muddy grave next to Carla’s body.

  Todd’s and Sophie’s deaths hung over her like a recurring nightmare. No matter how hard Jena tried to erase those horrific images, her mind kept trudging up thoughts of things she didn’t want to think about. Had she caused their death? Was that creature coming back for her? Jena wrapped her arms around herself and shivered violently. Exhausted, she managed to shut out everything around her. Yet despite the urgency of the situation, she choked down the taste of fear and let herself drift into a hazy slumber.

  That’s when he’d come back. One last time. After he had done what he had to do, he could not get her out of his mind. He stood over the lip of the pitch-black opening and stared down at her with keen eyesight. He waited to see if her eyes would open. He wanted her to look up at him, but she did not move.

  An overwhelming feeling crept into his dark heart and completely consumed him. It burned from deep within, filling him with a strange uneasiness and a craving he could not understand, a craving so intense he could almost taste it. She should never have come here, he thought. With a burning desire, he lowered himself into the muddy grave and knelt down beside her. As he wiped the mud from her face, he studied her features, all the while wondering how long she would resist the gift he had given her. Then, he glanced down at his strong hands... hands that could wield the power of life and death. Something had changed inside him since he first saw her. It was like looking into the mirror of the past at someone he once loved long ago. At that moment, he chose to give her life, instead of death.

  Footsteps from a distance alerted his attention. They were coming closer. Now he realized he had to act quickly. He was in desperate agony, yet he could not help himself as his human transformation suddenly took over. His amber eyes glided smoothly down her body, then up again to her face. He bent lower, parted his lips, and squeezed his eyes shut. Oh so gently, he put his mouth upon hers and kissed her.

  As Jena struggled to wake, she felt something warm and feather-soft press against her
lips, sending wave after wave of delicious sensations all the way through her.

  His mouth moved down the length of her neck. “I am your destiny, Jena.” His whisper created a tingle over her skin.

  She gasped and tried to pull away from the coppery smell of blood on his breath.

  “Do you deny it?” he asked, kissing the pulse at her throat.

  Jena was sobbing now, trying to choke out the word, “No...”

  He drew back from her as she lay weak and helpless, lost in guilt and regret. Little by little, he would remove those emotions until they existed no more. Soon, thoughts of him would consume her.

  Not far away, she could hear muffled voices. As Jena’s eyes flew open, she found herself surrounded by a veil of fog. Then a feeling of relief invaded her senses as she caught a glimpse of colored lights that flashed above. She tried to scream out for help, but all that came out was a frightened whimper.

  “It’s okay, miss,” a male voice said. “You’re safe now.”

  Chapter Two

  By one o’clock in the morning, Manuel Sanchez finally made it back to his apartment. After what he recently experienced, he had the sense that nothing was what it seemed. The rules as he knew them were completely off, and reality was slowly shifting into a bizarre realm. And the only thing on his mind at the moment was a bottle of Jim Beam. There was no way he was going to stay sober for the next twenty-four hours. Although he knew it was going to take more than a few shots of Kentucky bourbon to deal with what he had witnessed in the last few days.

  Manuel never imagined in a million years that all the myths of vampire-like creatures and werewolves actually existed. God, I feel like I’m losing my ever-loving mind, he thought as he poured himself a shot. There was no doubt he’d seen his share of monsters—the human kind—during his years as a detective in San Francisco, California. Not to mention the fact that there was a secret species of humans born with the ability to shift into wolves the size of horses. Shit! And it was brought to his attention—in no uncertain terms—something that would’ve sounded insane only a few days before.

  He was born one of them.

  Manuel wasn’t gifted with the wolf thing. According to the Breedline Covenant, you had to be born an identical twin for that. He didn’t have a twin, but he carried the gene. He’d inherited it from his father, who had abandoned his mother, leaving her to raise Manuel and his older sister Lailah alone and on a waitress’s salary. Bastard.

  It was nearly three o’clock when he decided to call it quits after four shots. As he staggered to his bedroom, his sister came to mind. Christ, he thought, smoothing a hand across his brow. He wouldn’t believe it if he hadn’t seen it with his own two eyes. Lailah was an angel. Not in the virtue meaning, but an actual angel with wings. And a badass battle angel at that. It gave him comfort knowing she was in a better place.

  Forty-one years ago, Lailah was brutally murdered. He’d never forget that dreadful day. If only he could go back in time. At age thirteen, Manuel watched his sister climb in the backseat of her killer’s car. That damn green Camaro tormented him for years. Little did he know, that particular day would be the last time he’d see her. As the car drove off, his instincts screamed danger. Instead of listening to his gut feeling, he let her go. He’d never forgive himself.

  As hard as he tried to prevent them, more memories flooded in. The gloomy day of his sister’s funeral, he remembered the weeping crowd of mourners, the priest in black, and the flowers arranged upon Lailah’s coffin. Shortly after, the police became closemouthed about her death, which didn’t surprise Manuel. Evidently, the investigation went tight-lipped to prevent an outbreak of hysteria in the community, not to mention his sister’s best friend Carla Rosi. Her body remained missing. While his sister’s case eventually went cold, Manuel started going to the shooting range three or four times a week. His instinct had been to find the monsters that had murdered his sister and blow their brains out. He didn’t know their names, but if it took the rest of his life, he’d find out. So far, the only thing he had to go on was the car they drove. It would’ve been easier if only he’d gotten a look at one of the bastards’ damned faces, or maybe gotten the ID off the tags.

  Years later, Manuel joined the California PD. Lailah’s death had been the reason he chose a career in law enforcement. Although her case remained unsolved, Manuel determined himself to reopen her file, which meant digging up old wounds. But that didn’t matter to him. He took an oath to protect the innocent, and he’d keep that promise until he took his last breath.

  Meanwhile, her killer remained at large, and Manuel swore he’d never rest in peace until he brought justice to the bastard that took his sister’s life. When promoted to homicide, he all but exhausted himself, searching for the SOB responsible for her death. When he first saw those forensic photos...

  God, he’d never get those images out of his head. By the condition of her body, it appeared a wild animal had attacked her... or a vampire—every bit of her blood reported to be drained from her body, and her throat torn open. Her skin was a lifeless pale gray. She also had bite marks on her chest, wrists, and her inner thighs. Lailah’s homicide baffled the medical examiner and the detectives assigned to her case. Without any evidence or witnesses at the crime scene, and according to the type of injuries she suffered, they assumed it was some kind of satanic cult. They had no other good explanation. Besides, what kind of normal human being could be capable of such brutality, especially to an innocent, beautiful girl at the young age of seventeen? Savages!

  Although Manuel now knew the world was not as it seemed, he was damn determined to keep his promise. That was to protect and serve. Obsessed with his sister’s case, he set aside his personal life—no loving wife or kids, no white picket anything, just dead bodies—and vowed to do everything in his power to keep this from happening to another innocent victim.

  Few people knew anything about Manuel’s private life, except his partner, Detective Frank Perkins. At the station, he was nothing but serious, and sometimes he was all business while off work. Everyone on the police force knew him to be a true bachelor. If one of the detectives’ wives tried to set him up on a date, he refused to have anything to do with a relationship. It wasn’t that Manuel didn’t attract women. He was definitely easy on the eyes, and resembling the handsome Spanish actor, Antonio Banderas didn’t hurt. Sure, he visited the gym on a regular basis, stayed in shape boxing practically his whole life. Without a doubt, Manuel could give a young man a run for his money, but he was only one man, and the world was full of monsters. Whatever killed his sister wasn’t human.

  He stripped out of his clothes and practically collapsed onto the mattress. Man, he was so freakin’ tired. Closing his eyes, he let go of everything. It wasn’t long before he slipped into a dream. More like a nightmare.

  Manuel was himself at the awkward age of thirteen, sitting on the steps of the old rundown house he grew up in, located in the San Francisco Bay Area. Then, the noise of a revving engine caught his attention. As he looked toward the obnoxious sound, he spotted a green Camaro parked in the drive. It had two black racing stripes over the hood. Through dark, tinted windows, he saw the silhouette of a man behind the wheel and someone in the passenger seat.

  Manuel flinched when the horn blared. Shortly after, the front door slammed from behind. He glanced over his shoulder at his sister.

  “I’ll be right back, Manuel,” Lailah said, ruffling his hair playfully.

  Manuel looked up at her, his expression tense. “Lailah, please don’t go. You know Mama said we’re not supposed to leave without her permission.”

  She gave him a rueful smile. “Oh, Manuel, don’t worry. I’m just going for a quick ride.”

  Manuel looked away from his sister and to the car waiting in the drive. He glared at the man behind the wheel and said, “I’ve never seen that car before. Who are they?”

  “They’re from out of town, visiting relatives,” she told him. “Quit worrying.” She rolled h
er eyes. “Carla introduced them to me yesterday at Quincy’s café.”

  “But Lailah—”

  “Give me a break, Manuel,” she groaned, shaking her head. “It’s fine. They’re nice guys.”

  “Where’s your friend Carla?” Manuel asked, his tone demanding. “How come she’s not with them?”

  “She’s staying at her cousin’s house. We’re picking her up.”

  “And then where are you going? How long will you be gone?” he continued to grill her.

  The horn blared again.

  Lailah made a low grumbling sound. “Jeez, Manuel, quit being so nosy. I gotta go.”

  As Lailah turned away and jogged toward the green sports car, her long red hair streamed out behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and smiled at Manuel one last time. “I’ll be back before Mama gets home from work. And don’t be a tattletale.”

  With an uneasy feeling, Manuel helplessly watched her pile into the back seat of the stranger’s car. She waved goodbye as it tore out of the paved drive, squealing the tires.

  Manuel waved back as the Camaro sped away. Please God, he prayed. Please keep my sister safe.

  That’s when the dream shifted into a nightmare and Manuel begged his eyes to open. Instead, his lids remained closed, and he couldn’t stop the horror show.

  He’d never forget the pain burning in his mother’s eyes when the police arrived with the bad news. She’d fallen to her knees when they told her they’d found Lailah’s body lying in a ditch on the side of the road.

  Manuel remembered the cops questioning him because he’d been the last person to see his sister alive. He told them he didn’t recognize the guys in the car and that he’d begged his sister not to go. But when Manuel recalled Lailah mentioning her friend Carla Rosi had introduced her to the suspects, he immediately relayed the information, praying it would help in the investigation. Manuel wanted justice. He wanted vengeance. He wanted the bastards to pay for what they’d done to his sister. A life-term sentence behind bars would be too easy. He wanted the persons responsible to suffer a long and agonizing death.