by Dave Ferraro
Chapter One
She opened her eyes to darkness. A drop of cold liquid landed on her neck and collected at the hollow of her throat as she blinked, willing her eyes to adjust to her surroundings. She tentatively sat up, starting as another drop landed on her hand. A low rumble in the sky drew her eyes skyward, and she could make out ominous clouds through the skeletal arms of bare branches. Beneath the sky, however, all was draped with an inky darkness.
“What?” she asked aloud, just to hear her voice. She felt around herself, noting damp grass, and squinted into the dark, where it seemed anything could be hiding. For some reason, she felt a sense of danger, of urgency. And she thought that if she could only see what was around her, it would calm her screaming nerves. The feeling probably stemmed from her fear of what the shadows could be hiding. Slowly shifting, she stood on shaky legs, another drop of liquid catching her on the cheek. Smearing it with her left hand, she brought a sample to her lips and tasted rainwater.
Just then a streak of light crackled across the sky, briefly illuminating the darkness. And while the glimpse of her surroundings it afforded was short, it was all she needed. She drew in a shaky breath at the image imprinted on her mind, a loud groan of thunder echoing around her as she recalled the clearing surrounded by dense forest. She stood in the center of a pentagram burned into the grass, a circle of chalk sprinkled around the symbol. And just outside of the chalk was a ring of at least eight bodies. Naked, pale bodies of men and women, their throats slit, daggers still clenched in many of their hands.
She closed her eyes against the grisly scene, even though the thick darkness was enough to keep it from assaulting her sight. Where was she? What was she doing here? And then another thought rang clearly through her head, sweeping all other questions aside.
Who am I?
A sense of panic seized her as she grappled with the question. Why couldn’t she remember who she was? Was she in shock? She must be. People in shock forgot everyday things all the time. And why wouldn’t she be in shock, given what she’d just glimpsed of her surroundings?
Another flash of lightning startled her into opening her eyes, and her gaze fell on the still form of one of the naked women, her eyes glassy, staring lifelessly back at her, with something of a peaceful smile on her face.
Then the sky burst open.
A crack of thunder preceded the downpour by a second, and then she found herself running from the scene. She didn’t think about where she was going as the rain pelted her relentlessly, soaking her clothes and chilling her skin. She glanced back once, but it was too dark to make anything out, so she faced forward, squinting in vain as she ran, hoping she wouldn’t lose her footing.
She was out of breath by the time she finally tripped over a gnarled root and stumbled into the trunk of a tree. Up against the rough bark, the rain was no longer able to reach her, so she slid down the tree and let herself collapse in a heap.
In the flashes of lightning that followed, she was able to make out what she was wearing that clung to her in wake of the rain. A black cotton short-sleeved v-neck, a pair of jeans, and a pair of hiking boots. She searched for any sort of indication of her identity, but it was a futile endeavor.
Who am I?
She swallowed hard as she tried to piece together what she’d seen. Some crazy cult? But why hadn’t she been hurt? It looked like some sort of insane suicide ritual at the very least, and she’d been in the center of it. Shivering, she shook her head. The more distance she put between herself and that blood-soaked clearing, the better. As soon as the rain let up, she wouldn’t stop until she hit civilization.
Staring up at the sky, she willed the rain to relent, but it kept coming. Let’s see, she thought, biting her lip. My parents? Do I know my parents? Nothing came to her as she tried to picture their faces.
“Damn it,” she muttered, putting a hand to her head, panic gripping her chest. “What’s wrong with me?” She tried again to dredge up images of friends, family, even her high school, but nothing came to her. And what was just as frustrating was that she could recall what high school was, and what math class was like, but not who taught her the subject or any specific memories related to it. Or any memories at all. It was like anything personal had been wiped from her mind. She could envision a toaster, but not the hand that operated it. She knew the words to her favorite song, by The Cardigans, but couldn’t remember herself playing it, let alone purchasing the CD. It drove her crazy, desperately trying to bring to mind something familiar. But nothing came.
“There’s got to be something,” she said to herself, shaking her head, refusing to give up. “This isn’t normal.” She listened to the rain as it beat against the branches of trees and the leaves of bushes, hoping that if she thought hard enough, something from her past would come rushing back to her, and she would smile and say “Oh, yeah!” But that moment didn’t arrive. She kept staring thoughtfully around herself at the darkness, imagining that the darkness itself was sucking out her memories, her sense of self, and that the rest of the world would follow suit.
“What’s wrong with him?” a voice asked.
“A mark just appeared on him,” another replied. “Some form of magic, I’d wager. Maybe the Celts?”
She sat up, eyes widening as she looked around. She cocked her head, but the voices didn’t return. Was the dark toying with her? Or was hearing voices another symptom of shock? Maybe she was going crazy. It didn’t seem like much of a stretch.
Then she was able to make out something in the darkness. At first, it was like a phantom glow, a will-o-wisp dancing in the dark, but then she heard the accompaniment of hooves and more voices.
“This rain is oppressive,” a man groaned, the same voice that had spoken first earlier. “Why can’t we seek shelter instead of slogging through this?”
“It’s not too often we get to travel in the daytime.”
“I would hardly call the dark that this storm provides ‘daytime.’”
Standing up, she edged closer to the light that grew nearer and nearer, until she could make out two men on horseback through the trees, some sort of light hovering between them, over their heads, to illuminate their way. For a moment, the light flickered, and the man on the left horse, an ugly blonde fellow with a wide nose and beady eyes, jerked his head back. “Hey, watch it back there.”
His fellow rider, thick and well-muscled like his friend, but with a thinner face and delicate features, smirked and said loudly “They’re not used to that type of magic, my friend.”
Magic?
“Sod off,” a woman snapped from behind them. “Perhaps if you two would stop jibber-jabbering, we could concentrate.”
Frowning, Alyssa shifted and stared at the light. What made it? This light didn’t seem to be natural. No fire, no electricity or gas. And it wasn’t attached to anything. It seemed to be floating of its own accord. She thought for a moment that it could be a firefly, but it was too bright and was floating much too purposefully for an insect. Unless she was forgetting something… Could she even trust herself at this point? If something had happened to her mind during her shock, perhaps this was a natural phenomenon and her mind just couldn’t make sense of it. She stared at the light again, but shook her head. No way. She knew how the world worked, even if her memories had faded, and that was not natural. But it couldn’t be…magic, as the men had suggested. Pictures of rabbits in hats and cards up sleeves drifted through her tangled thoughts. Magic wasn’t real. It was an illusion. Was this light an illusion as well?
The horses were close enough now that they were only a few yards away, and she was able to make out a procession of people following the two men on horseback. About a dozen women floated behind them neatly, their feet hovering a few inches over the ground. They all stared straight ahead, some bending their heads like they were tired, some focusing in the distance, as if contemplating. Their hair was swept up and piled hig
h on top of each of their heads, all raven black and glossy, beautifully complimenting their bronze skin. In stark contrast to their hair were the pristine white robes they each wore like a uniform, with gold armbands below their left shoulders. And as they passed, she noted a small tattoo at the back of their necks, like brands. An image of cattle came to her mind as she watched another pair of riders come up behind them, as if corralling them. It wasn’t until she thought this that she noticed the thin gold chains that linked each of their hands and feet to the girls next to them in line. It was a fine gold chain, loose and almost like decoration as it hung between them, but it was clear to her that it was more than jewelry.
But nothing here seemed possible. The lights, the floating…maybe she was dreaming and that’s why she couldn’t remember things about herself. She frowned, doubting herself as she noted that the rain seemed to evaporate over the heads of the women, as if it were being swallowed by something invisible. She stared in awe, wondering at the illusion.
As the final horseback riders passed, she stepped out from the protection of the tree and let the rain fall over her once more, although this time she hardly felt it. She was focused on the women in chains. She felt a need to help them somehow, even though she hardly knew what to do. And she was hardly in any condition to help herself, let alone a troop of enslaved girls.
Another light hovered between the back two riders, she noticed, and she watched it glide along with them as they marched away, and was so lost in thought that she didn’t notice another light approaching from behind until she was completely illuminated.
“What?” a man made a startled sound. “Who goes there?”
She ducked out of the sphere of light and slipped behind the nearest tree as a carriage came to a stop. Two horses pulled the carriage with one man steering them, who had been the one to notice her. As the carriage came to a stand still, two more men on horses drew up and stopped as well.
“What is it?” one of the riders called out.
“A woman,” the driver answered, staring into the forest near where she hid. “I couldn’t see well enough to distinguish who she was, but if she’s out here in this…”
The rider seemed to consider the forest and gave a curt nod to his companion. “Have the procession hold their position.”
The driver gave a consenting grunt and pulled some sort of a reed out of his pocket that sounded like a long single note from a songbird when he put it up to his lips.
“Driver?” a pale hand parted the curtain at the side of the carriage, but it was too dark for her to see within.
“We will be along shortly, Master.”
The hand retreated as the two riders trotted into the forest far enough away that she wasn’t worried about them for the moment, but she crept further away from them nonetheless, and crouched at the base of a tree where a bush with large waxy leaves offered some coverage, but would still allow her to watch the carriage.
Who even drove a carriage anymore?
There was no movement for a couple of minutes. The driver kept sending nervous glances into the forest, but the man in the carriage remained closed from view. She did note an insignia on the door, however. That of a bat’s skull with skeletal wings issuing forth from either side. She got an uneasy feeling looking at it, and reassessed the driver. He didn’t look very dangerous, yet somehow she felt that he was much sharper than he let on. Beneath the nervousness he exuded was some sort of…cunning. She squinted, and nodded to herself. Yes. She could see it in his eyes. They were sharper and more observant than he let on as he sent his shaky glances into the shadows. They were nearly black and that nervous energy that made his body quiver slightly didn’t quite reach them. Yes, he was a good actor, making himself look vulnerable and weak, but even beneath his baggy clothes, she could detect a solid body, well-muscled. And if he was that cunning… She looked around, trying to place the riders she had lost track of as she’d been observing the driver.
“Any luck?” the driver suddenly asked as one of the horsemen trotted into view.
The horseman shrugged. “They picked a perfect time to attack, if that’s what this is. With this rain, we can’t see, hear or smell a thing.”
She frowned. Smell?
Something solid suddenly wrapped around her midsection and yanked her free from her hiding spot. “Well, what have we here?”
“Ah!” she cried and drove her elbow back into the man’s jaw, earning a startled yelp. As he was disoriented, she took advantage of the situation to break free of his grasp and turned to deliver a solid kick to one of his knees that sent him to the ground painfully. Pressing the advantage, she pinned his arms with her legs and dug her elbow into his throat enough to make drawing breaths a struggle for him.
Suddenly, he opened his mouth and a pair of fangs slipped into place, as if coming out of sheaths from his incisors.
“Oh,” she said, taking in his pale skin anew. “I see.” She knew that she should be freaking out about now, but somehow her mind wouldn’t let her go there. Maybe because she’d had enough freaking out. Either way, she very calmly released her elbow from his neck, to which he looked relieved.
“Alright,” he said, nodding. “Now we can-”
But he didn’t get to finish his sentence as she quickly snapped a sturdy branch from the bush she’d been hiding behind and in a quick, smooth motion, jabbed it through his chest.
The man looked shocked, but then he was no longer a man as his body seemed to lose its cohesion and melt, like she’d shoved a snowman into a furnace. In a handful of seconds, he was nothing at all.
But she hardly had the chance to mull over this development as the second rider pushed through the underbrush to aide his friend. “Will?”
Picking up the same branch she’d used to dispatch the first man, she turned it on the new threat as he emerged from between two trees. He barely had time to react to her presence, before he was already melting.
Dropping the branch, she stared down at her hands in wonder, marveling at how powerful she felt. She knew that it shouldn’t be so easy to kill two full-grown men like that, yet it had come very naturally to her, like her instincts just knew what to do and took over for her. And the men’s flesh seemed almost to part for the wood, like it was retreating from it, making it almost too easy to penetrate them with the branch. Or perhaps their flesh was welcoming death, making it as painless as possible for the eventuality. Either way, she knew that she had just killed two undead men. Vampires. And it had felt right. Like it was her purpose. And maybe it was.
She looked up as she heard more of them approach. Four more, coming back from the procession to protect their master in the carriage. The slaves weren’t worth protecting, apparently.
“In the woods,” the driver ordered, pointing in her direction, then recoiling slyly and watching them advance on her. But he wasn’t fooling her anymore. And she knew that she could take out these four men just as easily as she had the other two.
She snapped two more sturdy, dry branches from the bush and twirled them in her hands. “I am so badass,” she realized with a grin.
The noise she’d made collecting her new weapons drew her pursuers right to her. Two came at her on foot, arms swinging at her before they had a good look at what she had in her hands. She was fast and easily avoided their punches, ducking beneath one man, jabbing him quickly in the chest with a branch, before circling on the other, whom she sidestepped and knocked over with a well-placed elbow to his back. As he fell to his knees, she didn’t waste any time driving the same branch that had killed his friend through his back, where it poked out the front of his shirt with a splatter of blood.
As she withdrew the wood from her most recent victim, who was already reduced to a puddle, she turned to greet the final two men, who remained mounted on their horses, and galloped toward her at full speed. The first man looked as if he hoped to trample her, but she disappointed him, diving out of the way
just in time. She looked back at the other man, who had drawn his horse up to assess her. He locked eyes with her for a moment before looking at the branches in her hands. She couldn’t help but grin at him as she turned back to the man who had stopped his horse to turn back for her. He’d hardly changed direction when she launched herself up the side of a tree with a running sprint, and kicked off of its trunk, propelling her body at the man and sending him off of his horse, which bucked wildly and ran off in the confusion.
She didn’t get up as quickly as the man did, as the breath had been knocked out of her in the fall, but she easily fended him off as he drew a dagger and attempted to stab her with it. She kicked his weapon from his hand and rolled out of the way, buying herself enough time to jump to her feet and face him. She could tell by her stance that she was experienced in fighting. She had her guard up, and knew which weak points to watch for as he tried to break through her defenses with his blade. He snarled at her like an animal, but he didn’t have the instincts she had and left himself open in a few key areas. She pressed her advantage after he tried for another swipe at her, kicking him in the side to throw him off-balance. Then she quickly moved in for the kill, with a look of satisfaction lighting up her face as she succeeded, feeling the wood slide through him and burst his heart as soon as it was pierced.
“What are you?”
She turned back to the last man on horseback, who continued to stare at her, his face astonished, paying little heed to the man who was dwindling into nothingness at her feet. She didn’t know how to answer him, so she just moved into an attack stance as she faced him.
He shook his head and prodded his horse, which took off into the woods away from her. She frowned as she watched him disappear, and considered going after him. But perhaps that was what he wanted, to draw her away from the real prize, which he was also galloping away from. The thought of the carriage drew her eyes beyond the nearby trees to the driver, who was standing in his seat, trying to see through the rain and foliage, as if desperate to see her defeat.
She would have to disappoint him.
Ripping another branch from the bush, she stepped out from the cover of darkness and into the full barrage of rain. She smiled across the twenty feet that separated her from the driver as the water soaked her clothing and hair anew.
The man assessed her and cringed. “Please don’t hurt me,” he whimpered.
She snorted. “Please don’t insult me. You can drop the act.”
He seemed to consider this, then smiled at her. “Alright. You’ve made short work of Lord Kryd’s men, so I suppose you’ve earned the right to a real challenge.” He stepped to the edge of his seat and jumped to the ground, throwing back his traveling cloak to reveal heavy leather and several sheaths housing knives. She was correct in her assessment that he was well-built for fighting. “And I think I’ll enjoy cutting that pretty face of yours like a pumpkin.”
“You’ll have to touch me first.”
“Cyrille.”
Her head snapped toward the sound of the voice, issuing from the carriage, and she was shocked to see a man climbing out of it gracefully and planting his feet lightly on the ground. He had long brown hair and was very handsome, with high cheekbones and the same pale skin as the other men in his company. Obviously a vampire. A cute vampire, but a vampire nonetheless.
“Lord?” her opponent tilted his head back but didn’t take his eyes off of her, as if she were a snake that would dart in for the kill in the blink of an eye. And he very well could have been right in his assessment.
“Don’t damage the face. Break her limbs if you must, but I’d like to play with her when you’re through.” He grinned at her, or leered really, and the once-over he gave her sent shivers up her spine, like a farmer contemplating a pig he was about to slaughter. Any initial attraction she’d felt toward him evaporated in the time it took for his words to be spoken.
And he really pissed her off, so she took that anger and focused it on Cyrille, who was bad at hiding the pleasure he felt from his master’s words, despite the control he had previously demonstrated. “If you insist, my-”
She didn’t let him finish the formality, darting in for a strike that she knew would not land on him. His eyes narrowed as he easily avoided her attack, and she saw his confidence swell. He kicked out at her left side and she pulled back to avoid the full brunt of the blow, letting it connect nonetheless for show. She let out a gasp and applauded herself for its authenticity. Cyrille wasn’t the only good actor here.
“Finish this,” Lord Kryd sighed, looking disappointed.
Cyrille snarled, not looking very pleased about cutting the fight short, but he obeyed, pulling one of his daggers free of his belt. He spun it for show, much as she had done with her branches in the wood, before moving in for a killing blow.
She had purposely lowered her defenses on her left side and feigned moving in to protect her exposed side, just as he would expect. When he shifted direction to attack the side she would have instinctively left unguarded in favor of where he was attacking, she was ready for him, and saw the surprise in his eyes as she easily unarmed him with a powerful blow to his wrist, and in one swift motion, twirled around and shoved one of her stakes into his back.
He let out a faint gasp before melting. She watched him disappear with pleasure.
“Bravo,” Lord Kryd said, clapping. “I certainly wasn’t expecting that. You were toying with him all along, weren’t you?”
She glanced up at him warily, taking in his relaxed stance, leaning against the carriage as if a deadly woman weren’t standing a few feet away. He didn’t seem the least bit shaken by what he’d witnessed, but watched her with renewed interest. But if he wasn’t afraid of her after she’d killed all of his men, including Cyrille, who was obviously his personal bodyguard as well as his driver, then she felt she should be concerned. Or she could shove his overconfidence right down his throat like she had his guard’s.
“You’re no vampire,” he observed.
“Of course not,” she scoffed.
“But you would like to be.”
“I really don’t think I would.”
He looked surprised. “I offer you immortality and you would turn me down? My child, do you know who I am? I rule this land. You could have everything.”
“Yet I feel rather unmoved to accept.”
“Very well,” he shrugged, as if she was of passing interest. Then he snapped his fingers and a pink mist surrounded her.
She blinked at the vapor, which reminded her of cotton candy. An image of the wispy candy on a white paper cone invaded her mind, and she was again frustrated by the impersonal impression she had conjured.
“You can not move of your own volition,” Lord Kryd said in a voice that was almost bored. “Usually I instruct you not to feel pain as well, but I think I would like to see you in pain.”
“You wish,” she said, waving her hands in front of her face to dissipate the mist. She stepped forward and gave pause when she took in his incredulous look. In fact, he looked downright shocked. His eyes were wide, his jaw open. His skin looked even more pale, if that was possible. She smiled at the look. He didn’t seem so bored now.
“How?” He shook his head. “It isn’t possible. You have to…you can’t…”
She moved toward him and he shrank back, his eyes watching her approach like she was a monster. Ironic, really.
When she was within inches of him, she stared him down with a look that she hoped made him lose control of his bowels. “Don’t worry,” she told him, “I won’t touch the face.”
He seemed unable to defend himself, and braced himself for death like a coward, with eyes closed.
But before she ran him through with the branch, her eyes fell to a mark that was burned into the hollow of his throat. She paused and frowned at the fresh red mark, shaped like a pentagram. It looked raw, as if it had only recently been singed into his skin.
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br /> “What is this?” she asked, daring to touch the mark, its edges raised and painful against the stark white of his flesh.
Lord Kryd opened his eyes, fear still haunting them, but a glimmer of hope appeared in their depths as well. He swallowed hard and hesitantly brought a hand up to touch the burn. “It only appeared less than an hour ago, out of nowhere really. One minute I was fine, and the next, I felt an agonizing burning pain and this mark was left behind.”
She stared into his eyes and realized that he was speaking the truth. The mark in the field where she had awoken had been a pentagram, and she would have only come to about the same time as this mark had appeared on him. It couldn’t be a coincidence, could it? Had whoever had done…whatever to her…caused this? But what could the connection be between this mark and that awful scene? “It just appeared? While you were in your carriage?”
He nodded. “If you let me live, I will-”
She didn’t let him finish the thought, however, as she shoved the branch deep into his chest, feeling satisfaction flow through her as he melted before her eyes.
And something else flowed through her as well. She gasped as images assailed her mind.
She saw a house in a small neighborhood, an elderly man rocking on the front porch in a sturdy chair. Her grandfather. She knew it was her grandfather and tears came to her eyes at the memory as he leaned forward and smiled down at her. “What have you got there? A frog?” he asked. She stared up at his kind eyes and nodded shyly. He reached down with a hand covered in age spots and touched the frog’s head, which began to squirm in her hands as he attempted to pet it. Then it leapt free and she shrieked with pleasure, watching it hop off of the porch.
“It got away,” she said.
Her grandfather put a hand on her shoulder gently. “As it should, Alyssa. You can’t keep them as pets. They need to be free, where they can hop around and play. You wouldn’t like to be caged up, would you?”
She shook her head.
“I didn’t think so.”
The edges of the memory began to darken and she realized that the images were leaving her. “No,” she gasped, trying to hold on to it futily. And then it was gone. She was on her knees in the rain again, her Jeans soaked in the mud, a branch on the ground in front of her where Lord Kryd used to be.
“Grandfather,” she murmured, recalling his wrinkled face and the wisp of white hair at the top of his head, like a tuft of cotton candy. She smiled at that, before replaying their exchange again in her head.
Then she stood up and turned around, shocked to find an audience observing her. The women in chains watched her, their eyes wide as they took her in. They must have walked back to the carriage as the fight had raged, and had approached after Lord Kryd had fallen. She stared back at them for a moment, unsure of what to say, when the girl in front seemed to find her voice. She was shorter than the others, with an innocence on her face that was immediately disarming. “Who…are you?” she asked hesitantly.
Smiling, and with new confidence, she answered. “Alyssa.”