Copyright©2013 Andrea Warneke
All Right Reserved
Dedication:
To three of the greatest joys of my life; you three are amazing and you're all growing up way too fast. I love you!! And to their father for his continued love and support. Love ya!
To friends and family, with love
To the men and women in the Armed Forced who are beacons of light in the darkest nights
Acknowledgement
There are so many people I wish to thank, from my family for giving me the time and space I need to write, to the beta readers who provide feedback and suggestions that improve the story (epic battle scene – thank you to several readers for that! I hope I have done it justice!)
I would also like to thank the readers; without you I'd still be telling myself these stories and my characters would be lonely and depressed.
Jimmy Thomas Jennifer O. Vicki V. Crystal M. Karen S. Jacque B. Angelia F. Jess G.
Colleen R. Jodi N. Lynn Eleighna A. Waleska C. Lee Ann G.
Table of Contents
Dedication
Acknowledgement
Glossary
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue
Author Information
Glossary
Adytum: the place where the Calices are kept to serve at the pleasure of the Apocritae.
Apocritum (sing.) / Apocritae (pl): the name of the race of beings that are similar to vampires but are not vampires; their bite changes a human at a genetic level. Depending on whether or not the human is given blood in returns determines the human’s fate. The majority of Apocritae are recognized by their completely black eyes. They mostly keep to themselves, disdaining all those not Apocritae.
Calix (sing.) / Calices (pl) – When a human is bitten and immediately given Apocritum blood s/he becomes a Calix, a creature devoted to the Apocritae. They roam the streets at night and drink the blood of humans in order to feed their Apocritae masters. After their conversion their irises turn black.
Domus: the hive-like home of the Apocritae; they main Domus is in an unknown location with smaller ones spread out throughout the world.
Thraell: When a human is bitten and is denied the blood of an Apocritum. A nasty creature that is nearly impossible to kill once it wakes as such it is illegal to create a Thraell.
Helan: the Hellish place where the Thraell were once kept. It has been inactive for several generations.
Prologue
Looking up at the darkening sky, the wind howling through the alleyway, the solitary man wondered once again what he was doing out there. Walking through nearly deserted alleys when a powerful storm was about to hit was not something he ever enjoyed; he much preferred basking in the warmth of soft, feminine flesh. He pulled his collar up higher against the harsh wind, hoping that the rain would hold off for another half an hour. Perhaps he should abandon the foolish quest and return to the warmth of the Adytum, the waiting arms of a willing Calix; they were all willing.
But then, just when he was ready to give up on his undertaking, he heard it: that voice that had been whispering inside his head over the past couple of months, the voice that compelled him to find its owner in spite of his misgivings. His brother had frequently told him to ignore it, that it wasn’t their concern and there were more important matters at hand then a lone voice in the wilderness. His brother then reminded him that the two of them were almost free and it would be suicide to deviate from their chosen path.
Help me.
He could no longer ignore it; the desperation in the small voice called to something in whatever was left of his soul and he had no choice but to offer assistance. And pray he wasn’t too late.
Picking up his pace, he dashed through the labyrinth of streets to the darkened alley next to the small hospital, searching for the owner of the voice and finding nothing. Taking a few steps more, he noticed it: a shapeless form huddled on the ground; a dying woman. She didn’t move but the voice continued to whisper in his head, begging him to hurry before it was too late. Carefully, he walked over to her, reaching his hands out slowly to keep from frightening her. “Madam, you have been summoning me?”
Her head lifted and he saw the pain in her gaze. Short brown hair hung in her muted hazel eyes as she remained crouched on the ground. Reaching out a trembling hand, she pleaded, “Save me, please.”
“You know what I am.” It wasn’t a question as his teeth sharpened and his eyes blackened. He could smell the cancer in her, overpowering his senses with its foul odor.
“I do,” she swallowed hard, her body wracked with agony. She let out a weak laugh, “I always thought my meeting with one of your kind would be a grand seduction; I never planned on it ending like this.”
“How did you come to be in such a dark place?” he asked, gently gathering her dying body in his arms.
“I had no choice,” she squeezed her eyes shut and grimaced in pain. It took her a moment to continue speaking and when she spoke, her voice was weaker. “I am dying and this is the only way to save….”
She didn’t have to say the words, he understood; only a fool or one near death would desire becoming a Calix. Even knowing how close to death she stood, he had to ask, “Do you understand the price you must pay?”
“I know and I am willing.” Her breath hitched in her throat and a tear slid down her cheek but she held his gaze, “Please.”
He brushed the damp hair away from her neck, baring her vulnerable throat to his gaze and holding his breath against the stench of death within her body. The cancer would make her blood bitter but it was still better than the recycled blood of the Calix. “Are you sure?”
At her lone nod, he held her head steady as he lowered his mouth to her throat. Feeling the stringy pulse beneath his tongue, he felt moisture on his finger and hesitated; the dying woman was still crying. When he started to pull away, she clutched his shoulders with the last of her strength and whispered, “Please, don’t stop.”
The points of his teeth grazed against her skin and she winced. This time, he did not hesitate, breaking the skin and drinking fully of her, taking the poison from her body, taking her existence. She cried out one last time as he continued to drink, following her down to the ground. He felt the previously unknown guards start to fall away; he hadn’t even been aware that she was hiding anything.
Where had the human learned such a powerful spell? What secrets could she possibly be hiding?
As she peacefully lay there, he bit his wrist and held it up to her lips. Holding her head, he gently stroked her hair as she drank, the tears still falling down her face. Frowning, he closed his eyes to see what continued to plague her, what caused her such grief. A crumbling barrier kept him out, but it wouldn’t take much for him to break through. He was impressed by the human’s efforts of hiding her secrets but the spell was for naught – her secrets were his to know and she would have no memories of this life she gave away. The final wall fell and he saw it….
A baby.
A baby! He hissed, pulling his wrist away from the woman, knowing that it was too late, that it was too late the moment his teeth pierced her flesh. With his blood flowing through her veins, the transformation was complete. The child. Oh, hellfire, t
he child!
She looked up at him, the pain gone from her black eyes, and she smiled, “Thank you.”
He watched as she lost consciousness, her hand moving to her distended stomach. Closing his eyes, he cursed himself for not seeing past the disease, her barriers. He was stronger than that, smarter than that….
As he reached down to scoop her up in his arms, he heard that voice calling to him again, small and quiet, no longer lost. He looked down at the woman in his arms, knowing that it still came from her. A frown rippled over his features; nothing should have remained of her; what was this anomaly? And the child – was there any hope for it? Then he realized that the baby was coming and there was no time for hesitation; if it was a monster it would perish from hunger before the night was out.
Rushing through the hospital doors, he carried her to the front desk. “This woman needs immediate attention. I found her lying outside and her baby is coming.”
As the receptionist began paging the necessary faculty, the nurse on duty ran forward, pushing a bed for him to lay her on. “How far apart are her contractions?”
“Madam, the baby is coming,” he repeated, taking the Calix’s hand in his to offer comfort as they raced down the hall to the emergency surgery room.
“Are you the baby’s father?” the nurse asked, giving him a cursory glance and then looking again, her gaze lingering. He grimaced, knowing that humans found him attractive but now was neither the time nor the place; the child was forcing its way into the world. “Are you?”
He hesitated another moment longer before answering, “No.”
“Then you must leave,” she said, almost grudgingly, hating to see him go.
“Gloria?” a doctor questioned as he walked into the room and saw the young woman lying on the table, unconscious. He hurried to her side, “Gloria? Where’s Stephen?”
The man watched but the new Calix never opened her eyes as her body shuddered with contractions, forcing the baby out of her before it was too late. No one noticed the bite marks at her neck, the lack of color on her much-too-pale face.
The doctor turned to one of the nurses, “Damn it, where is Stephen?”
“I will inform him of his child’s arrival,” the solitary man informed them, his voice rich and dark, compelling in its splendor.
The doctor looked at him, frowning for just a moment before returning his attention to the woman on the table and what needed to be done an hour ago. Rushing, he began ordering the nurses around, pulling off her sodden jacket, leaving on the open-backed hospital gown, setting up an incubator; preparing to get the woman to oncology as soon as the child was delivered. They never noticed him as he left the room.
As he stood out in the hall, waiting to secure the woman once she was alone, after the child was removed from her, he silently called out to the father. Within a few minutes, a haggard man rushed past him and into the room where his wife lay unmoving. The man stood in the doorway and watched as the grieving husband took his wife’s hand in his, kissing it as tears fell from his cheeks. He watched as the husband suddenly stiffened, “Oh, God, Gloria, what have you done?”
He couldn’t bear watching the husband say good-bye to his beloved wife; it was too similar to what he was going through in severing the connection to the Hive, to the Queen. Turning, he left the hospital, waiting outside and allowing the woman some time with the child for whom she gave up everything. There was the slimmest possibility that the child would survive, but it wasn’t likely.
Leaning against the alley wall, he waited, unable to forget the poor, blighted infant. Perhaps this mistake was a sign that he wasn’t prepared to leave the Hive. But then why did it feel as if the chains that were binding him were starting to weaken?
*****
Stephen cried out in anguish, seeing the bite marks on his darling wife’s neck, knowing that she traded her life in the hopes of preserving their child’s. She should have given the child up and gone through treatment; how was he going to be able to bear life without his love, his wife? And how was he going to raise their child alone? She should have taken the treatment. Resting his cheek against hers, wanting to feel the warmth of her breath, the beat of her heart, he felt neither.
A loud wail brought him back to reality. A nurse was holding his child out to him, a conciliatory smile on her face, “Mr. Lincoln, your daughter is so beautiful; do you want to hold her?”
He cringed, unable to look at the child who stole his wife’s existence. “I… I can’t, not right now. I have to make sure Gloria is all right.”
The nurse took a step backwards, towards the incubator, glancing at the dying woman on the table with pity on her face. “Very well; we’ll take Mrs. Lincoln up to oncology. They should be ready for her by now….”
“No,” the woman on the table finally opened her eyes, their shining darkness scanning the room for her child. Sitting up with surprising ease, considering the cancer eating away at her body and the recent delivery of her child, she held out her arms. “Let me hold her; just for a moment.”
The nurse smiled affectionately, turning from the distraught father to the young mother and handing her the bundle. Pulling the blanket back from the red and bewildered face of the newborn, exposing a thick head of dark hair, the nurse grinned, “She’s perfect, Gloria.”
Gloria smiled down at her daughter, grateful that the little girl was spared the destruction of transformation. Large, intense hazel eyes stared up at her and she knew that she had done the right thing. Tears slid down her cheeks and without looking at the nurse or doctor, she whispered, “Can I have a few minutes alone with my husband and my child?”
“You don’t have a lot of time,” the doctor protested.
“I’ve already waited five months,” she flashed a grin at the man, unable to hide the despair that she felt at leaving her child behind. “What is another fifteen minutes?”
He returned the smile, mirroring her sorrow. “Ten minutes, and then you’re getting wheeled up to oncology to undergo surgery.”
“Of course, Phil,” she nodded, turning her attention back to her daughter.
As soon as the others left the room, Stephen grabbed his wife by the shoulders, forcing her to look at him as he talked to her. “How could you do this, Glore?”
“I had no choice, my love,” she smiled sorrowfully, looking at him with her unnatural eyes; eyes of polished onyx. Eyes of a Calix. He missed her hazel eyes already. Bending her head, she kissed her daughter’s forehead. “Look at her, Stephen. She is everything that we are together….”
“She’s not you,” he grieved, refusing to look at his child, intent on burning the image of his wife into his memory. “She cannot replace you.”
“Oh, Stephen,” Gloria comforted, lifting a hand and cupping his cheek. “I did what I had to do. It worked, honey, look at her, she’s perfect.” She shrugged her shoulders in a negligent manner, already more Calix than human. “Now we both shall live.”
“The price is too high,” he protested, refusing to admit that his wife was right; not when it cost him so much.
“I’m naming her Celeste,” she said, ignoring his objections. Smiling at the baby, she ran her finger along the smooth skin of her daughter’s tiny face before placing it in the baby’s small hand. She smiled when the baby wrapped her teeny tiny fingers around her own much larger one. “Celeste Gloria, after her momma.” She looked up at Stephen, her finger still in Celeste’s little hand, “Take care of her for me; love her.”
Closing his eyes and tightening his jaw, he nodded stiffly, “I will. Of course I will.”
“I must go,” she whispered, feeling the pull, stronger now, tearing her heart into two. Pressing her lips against the baby’s cheek, letting the tears fall onto the baby’s skin, she whispered, “I’ll see you again, baby; my Celeste. I love you so much.”
“Gloria,” Stephen cried out as she handed him the bundle, rose from the bed and began moving towards the exit, away from him. Away from the life they were suppose
d to have together.
She looked over her shoulder when she reached the door and smiled at him. “I love you, Stephen.”
“Don’t leave me,” he implored, falling to his knees with the baby in his arms.
“I have no choice,” she said, though there was no regret in her voice. Pausing, she tilted her head to the side as if remembering something. “The Ramsey’s will help you; they’ve just adopted a daughter, not quite six months old. Kim; the child’s name is Kim,” she said, smiling to herself. “They will be arriving shortly to offer comfort.”
“Gloria,” he mouthed as she disappeared. He bowed his head and cried in earnest.
A nurse walked in a few minutes later, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Mr. Lincoln, I am so sorry for your loss; it was just too much for her to handle.”
He didn’t answer, he couldn’t answer. He just nodded his head, handing her the wrapped bundle as he stood up. Clenching his jaw, he watched as they moved the empty gurney from the room, even as her body was projected within everyone’s head. He knew she wasn’t there and he hated the Apocritae; in that moment he hated them more than anything. He was going to destroy every last one of them.
The doctor came up to him, glancing at the illusion of a dead body on the bed they wheeled from the room, “I know your wife does not regret her decision, Stephen. I hope you will be able to forgive her.”
“Where are you taking her?” he asked, tilting his head towards the empty doorway, unwilling to look at the child still in the nurse’s arms.
“The morgue,” the doctor answered softly. “The baby will be in the nursery; she should be ready to return home in a day or two, after we make sure everything checks out.”
“Whatever.” Stephen shook his head and walked out of the room, shock numbing him to the pain and reality.
*****
Awakening Page 1