From Darkness: Fallen Into Shadows Book One

by Imani L Hawkins

  Joseph squeezed her hand, offering her the encouragement she needed to press forward. Their daughter would be born, and she couldn’t wait to meet the girl who’d wreaked havoc on her body over the past nine months. Pushing through the pain, she tensed muscles she’d never knew existed and pulled her body forward. The tension was nearly too much to bear, but she gritted her teeth against it. Her legs cramped, and her abdomen burned from the pressure, but she could make it, as long as Joseph stood by her side.

  With all her might she pushed, but it wasn’t enough. No progress had been made the last twenty minutes of pushing and she felt the strain of it as did her baby. The monitors showed the fetal heartbeat had declined to a dangerous degree, barely audible against the beeps and hums of the machinery.

  The contraction eased, and she could hear the murmurs of the medical staff around her. She could see their heads shaking, the resolve on their faces as they made plans she couldn’t hear.

  “Nicolette?” A doctor touched her arm. “I’m afraid the baby is stuck.”

  “No. She can do this! Give her some time!”

  Joseph shoved the doctor away, his dark eyes finding Letta’s, imploring her to do the impossible. And that’s what she did, the impossible. She mustered up everything she had, drawing strength from the man standing beside her and using the next contraction to push. She could feel the head slipping past the barrier her pelvic bones created, and she reached inside herself to push the baby further. Stretched beyond her bounds, she knew she’d done all she could when the baby slipped from her. She could barely make out the calls of the doctors and the wail of a baby as darkness overcame her.

  Joseph didn’t survive the night. Neither did her parents and most of the doctors in that room. She’d barely gotten away with her life and that of her child’s because they thought her too fragile to oppose them.

  And there she stood, between two of them. One wielding a fiery whip while the other was ready to pounce.

  A scream tore from her as the dark one whipped his arm forward, the flaming tendril splitting the air as it came toward her. She closed her eyes, her muscles tensed as she waited for the inevitable pain.

  The whip never connected with her. She opened her eyes, allowing them to follow the trail of fire as it stretched past her and wrapped itself around the neck of the other Fallen. Once secure, the man was pulled into the air kicking and thrashing about, his wings flapping against the pull of the whip.

  The dark one met him mid-air, delivering a punch hard enough she not only heard but felt the impact of his fist against skin, before the other was tossed away from him. Still secured by the whip and gasping for air, the other grabbed at the whip and yanked the dark one toward him.

  Letta stepped toward the side of the alley as the dark one soared toward the other, his fists raised. He descended on the other, delivering punch after punch. He attacked with no hesitation, punching the other in the face before flipping behind him and wrapping more of the whip around the other’s neck. Faster than Letta could process, his feet were against the other’s back, pushing him forward while his hands secured the whip, pulling it back. In an instant, the fight was over.

  The dark one stood over the fallen body of her attacker, pulled his severed head to his face, and grimaced his disgust before tossing the head aside.

  He retracted his wings before looking up at Letta, concern heavy in his expression.

  “Are you alright?” he asked in a soothing baritone that lacked the malice and arrogance she’d always found in the other’s voice. He approached, his hands pushed in front of him as if to tell her he meant her no harm.

  For every step he took toward her, Letta took a step back. Though he’d saved her life, she wasn’t certain it wasn’t a trick to gain her trust. Or worse, her servitude.

  “I won’t hurt you. I just want to know whether you’re okay or not and I’ll be on my way.”

  “I’m fine,” she said, her voice trembling.

  She’d meant to assure him she hadn’t been hurt but the look on his face told her she’d done the exact opposite. He took another step toward her, but his steps faltered. He staggered forward, a gentle sway betraying his balance.

  Letta rushed toward him, hoping to catch him before he fell to the ground. Holding him in place proved far more difficult than she’d anticipated. The man weighed a ton, and she found herself crumpling beneath the weight of him. She fell to the ground first with him toppling on top of her. Shoving him over, she pushed herself to sit beside him, allowing her eyes to scan his body for injury.

  Finding nothing, she rolled him onto one side, quickly rolling him to the other when he screamed out in pain. That’s where she found the source of his pain, a metal object peeking out just beneath his ribcage. The edge was jagged as if broken from another piece. She tried to grip the edge with her fingers and pull it from him, but the metal wouldn’t budge. She needed something else, tweezers or pliers to grip the piece but with no one around she could trust to help, she opted for the next best thing.

  ~*~

  “What the fuck were you thinking bringing him here?” Brayden slammed his fist against the brick wall before snatching it back and rubbing it. “Do you realize you’ve put us all in danger? We’ll have to relocate everyone, hundreds of people in a matter of days. We don’t have the resources for that.”

  He paced the darkened room, muttering curse words foul enough to make Letta cringe. Dark eyes burned with barely contained rage as he paced, his hand combing through a tangle of dark curls. She couldn’t blame him for being angry but, given the situation, she’d hoped he’d be a little more understanding.

  She smiled at that. Brayden and understanding didn’t belong in the same sentence when it came to The Opposition, a group he’d started two years before to bring down the Fallen. He’d tossed his own brother out into the streets for nothing more than trying to facilitate a truce between the Fallen and The Opposition. She couldn’t imagine what he’d do to her.

  “He was hurt saving me. I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “Leave him there. I’m sure his own people are better suited to care for him.”

  “But he killed on his own.” That was the problem. Never, in the three years of the Fallen’s occupation had she ever heard of them killing their own, especially for a human. She didn’t want to think of what they’d do to him if they discovered what he’d done.

  She detailed everything that had happened that night to Brayden, leaving nothing out. Her mark had been compromised though she couldn’t figure out how. Only a few knew where he’d be that evening, and even fewer knew of the role she was to play in convincing him to help the group.

  “He knew you were coming,” Brayden said, drawing his hand over his face and beard.

  That was obvious from the way he’d lured her out of the bar. The thing she didn’t understand was how he’d known her by name. She couldn’t remember a time she’d spoken her name to anyone in The Opposition, with the exception of Brayden, and she doubted he’d have said anything.

  “Is it possible the angel only pretended to save you, hoping to gain your trust?”

  Letta had thought of that before, but it made no sense. The brutal nature in which he killed the other left no question the man was dead, his head severed from his body. And she couldn’t fathom the thought they’d allowed him to sacrifice one of their own just to join the ranks of a human opposition. It made no sense.

  Letta shook her head. “He killed the other Fallen by separating his head from his body. I doubt that could have been faked. And you saw the broken piece of a blade lodged just beneath his ribcage. They really meant to kill each other.”

  Exhaustion began to settle in and Letta was finding it difficult to concentrate. Taking a seat at the metal table in the center of the room, she laid her head against it. The cold of the metal seeped into her skull, easing her mounting headache.

  Brayden sat beside her, rubbing her back. A difficult decision laid ahead of him, but she hoped h
e’d give it some time. She needed to speak to the Fallen, locked away in the infirmary of their bunker. More than that, she needed to thank him. Were it not for his interference, she might have died that night, leaving her daughter without a mother.

  Tears sprang to her eyes at the thought of it. Aurora, at only three years old, had suffered losses no child should ever face. Still, she seemed to exude an air of happiness wherever life took her.

  “Don’t worry,” Brayden murmured. “I’m not going to kick you out. At the very least, you may have provided us with a crucial weapon for our war against the Fallen. I’d like to see that through.”

  Three

  Tyrin awakened in a dark room surrounded by brick walls. A large unit mounted on the outside wall pumped cold air into the room, keeping the temperature cool enough he shivered. A lonely window just above it offered the only light in the room, making it impossible for him to gauge his surroundings.

  Pushing himself into a seated position, he stretched out his hand, calling forth his dagger which erupted in a flurry of molten metal and fire. It brightened the room, allowing him to glance about.

  His was the one of five beds in the large room, surrounded by medical instruments, monitors, and machines he had no clue their purpose.

  He thought back on the night before, recalling the incident he’d had with another of the Fallen. He’d had no intention of hunting that night, having spent the last few days tearing through the city and laying waste to anyone who got in his way. He’d killed at least eight of them in that time and was due a much-needed break before he continued on with his path of destruction.

  But Clifton, as he liked to be called, had chosen the wrong night to step out of bounds and he couldn’t let him harm the innocent woman.

  Tyrin scoffed. The fact the originals allowed a creature such as he out in public was an insult within itself, but their failure to educate the fledgling proved fatal. Had he been properly trained, he’d have known to run from the likes of Tyrin. He’d have known he lacked the strength to take on an ancient.

  Tyrin scooted from the bed, his restraints doing nothing to deter his movements. They ripped and fell away from his easily. He took a moment to examine the broken straps of thick cloth. The poor humans would have done better choosing chains. At least that would have proven a better deterrent.

  Reaching for his side, he slid his hand across freshly healed skin. He hadn’t felt the dagger pierce his skin the night before, but he was grateful they were able to remove the enchanted object. Without their intervention, he’d still be in the alleyway, an easy target for the Fallen and humans alike.

  Sliding his feet against the cool concrete floor beneath him, he walked over toward the only door to the room. His initial intention had been to break the door down and fight anyone who got in the way of his exit, but he thought better of it when the sounds of children hit his ears. He’d have no problem dispatching of just about anyone, but he drew the line when it came to children.

  Balling his fist, he pounded it against the door hard enough he created dents in the metal. Children shrieked at the sound, their hastened steps retreating from the area. He frowned. He hadn’t meant to frighten the children, but it would alert whoever was in charge he had awakened.

  He retraced his steps toward the bed, taking a seat before calling back his dagger. Moments later the door slid open enough for a woman to push her head through. A curtain of crimson hair, hazel eyes, and milky skin greeted his vision.

  He smiled at the sight of her, using her hand to gesture her in.

  She glanced about another moment and he could hear the rapid thud of her heart. She took a steadying breath before entering the room, flicking a light switch that bathed the room in a bright yellow light, before shutting the door behind her. Her hand fumbled around with a lock before she issued a sheepish smile.

  “I guess it wouldn’t matter if I locked the door. You could just crash right through if you wanted, right?” Her hand slid over the dents his fists had made in the metal. “By the way, it wasn’t my decision to restrain you. If it were, I would have used chains.”

  She laughed at that, the sound of it easing the tension within him. He’s thought the same just moments before which made him join in with her.

  “I’m sorry. My name is Letta.” She walked over to him, holding out her hand. Taking his hand in his, he gave her a gentle squeeze, or at least that’s what he’d intended to do. She sucked in a deep breath between clenched teeth and tugged her hand free, nursing it at her chest. “Someone doesn’t know his own strength.”

  He shook his head, frowning. “It’s been a while since I interacted with a human. I’m sorry.”

  “No need to apologize. I should be apologizing to you.” She let out a nervous laugh. “I mean…you saved my life, probably putting yourself at risk doing so…”

  Risk? He flashed her a quizzical expression. Her eyes darted toward his side, answering his unasked question.

  “Brayden just wanted to be sure you weren’t a threat. We have families to be concerned about.”

  He nodded his understanding, thinking of the children he’d heard earlier. Focusing his senses outward, he scanned the entire area with his mind. From what he could feel, there was a little over eighty people in what felt like a bunker, fourteen of them small children. Beyond the door was a large area filled with boxes and other objects while the rooms on each side held the families.

  He could feel their fear as the adults guarded the doors, weapons in hand, and the children sat huddled together. The thought he’d caused that fear saddened him, but he understood. Once his kind had made themselves known, they’d terrorized the human population and there was no way they could know he was any different.

  “I should go,” he murmured, standing. “I don’t need to be here.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “They’re frightened of me. I can feel their fear seeping through the walls.”

  “Look…” she paused before giving him a pointed stare.

  “Tyrin.”

  “Tyrin,” she repeated, testing the name on her tongue. “With everything going on outside these walls, you can imagine everyone here would be on edge with you around. But I was hoping you’d stick around and help us.”

  “What makes you think I’d help any of you?” The words came out before he could think better of it and he cringed at the aggression in them.

  Letta took a step back but held her ground. Something about her stance told him she refused to be intimidated, and he appreciated her bravery.

  “I figured you wouldn’t want to hurt any of us, considering you saved my life last night and you seem concerned everyone fears you. I guess I was just hopeful.”

  Disappointment swam in her hazel eyes and Tyrin couldn’t help the knot that formed in his gut. His problem wasn’t that she suggested he help them. If he could be of any help to them without putting them in further danger, he’d have no issue doing so. But his ambitions were something much larger than helping a group of people overcome the rule of the Fallen. His aim was singular.

  Revenge, pure and simple, kept him up most nights. It was the only reason he hadn’t ended his life the moment the last of his family was taken from him and the only thing that kept him tethered to this world. He’d lived and breathed it for so long he didn’t know any other way to be.

  He thought back on his journey over the past ten years. His sister’s body hadn’t been cold in the ground before he’d begun to plan the council’s demise. Countless nights he’d stalked them, ripping the head from two or three of them before they’d gone into hiding. He hadn’t seen one of them since, though he passed his time slaughtering their little minions.

  As much as he hunted them, he knew they were hunting him as well. He’d always managed to stay one step ahead of them by never staying in one place too long, a mistake he’d made with his sister before. And that was the problem. If he stuck around and helped the people there, it would only be a matter of time before
he was found and all the people inside the bunker would be put in harm’s way.

  “How about this,” she began, tugging him from his thoughts. “Meet with Brayden and I for a moment and hear us out. If we’re unable to convince you to help us, we’ll let you go without putting up a fight.”

  He quirked his brow, amused.

  “Okay. How about you hear us out because it would mean a lot to me?” She offered him a hopeful smile and he couldn’t help but nod his agreement. “Great!” She clapped her hands together before spinning on her heel and walking toward the door. “I’ll let Brayden know and I’ll be back to collect you in ten minutes.”

  Before he could stop her, she left the room, not bothering to lock him in. He battled with himself on what he should do. On one hand, he wanted to slip from the room and leave the bunker, never to lay eyes on it again. But the thought of disappointing her unsettled him.

  Four

  As promised, Letta came to collect him ten minutes later, her excitement barely concealed beneath a forced passive expression. She led him out into what she called a common area, the area he’d seen through his ability, passed the row of boxes filled with various supplies, and into a makeshift office on the opposite end of the bunker.

  She opened the door, ushering him inside before closing the door behind him.

  “Brayden went to collect some items. He’ll be here shortly.”

  The office, which looked more like an interrogation room, was nearly bare, save for the large metal table that sat directly at its center and the attached metal chairs. There was a calendar tacked to the wall beside the door but even the pictured rolling hills did nothing to brighten the room.

  He sat at the table, folding his hands in front of him.

  “Are you hungry?”

  “No.” His answer was simple but direct. He knew how humans loved to force food on anyone they deemed hungry and he wasn’t sure he could trust them not to poison his food.