by Brandon Witt
I tensed to rush at him, but he raised his finger to his lips in a shushing motion. It was so unexpected that I paused in confusion.
His gaze met mine again, this time allowing me to be desire-free. With a jerk of his head, he motioned to the house behind him.
Following his gesture, I looked at the house. There was nothing special about it. It wasn’t the largest or nicest on the block. Nor did it seem to have anything wrong with it. The only light was a flickering glow in one of the first story windows.
I did a double take as I turned back to the vampire. He was no longer there. Only the barren light post illuminating the curb remained. I twisted, looking all around, expecting him to descend on me. Despite the flash of fear at the thought, I wished he would. I was fairly certain I’d be able to explode into a ball of fire on command.
Nothing.
Continuing to turn in the middle of the street, I finally decided he wasn’t getting ready to attack. I looked back at the light post and then the house he’d motioned toward. Had I just fallen for the oldest trick in the book—motioning somewhere to distract the enemy, then running away? Maybe he’d gone into the house and wanted me to follow.
For a second, I discarded that idea. No way was I following a vampire into a strange house. Then I remembered I wasn’t the man I used to be. A vampire couldn’t kill me, or so I was becoming ever more certain. I could burn the fucker without a thought. And, oh yeah, I didn’t care if I lived or died anyway.
Not confident in the choice I was making, I snuck to the rear of the house. There was a security light over the back door as well, but it was flickering on and off sporadically.
Stepping into the pulsating yellow light, I reached out and grasped the door handle. It wasn’t broken. Maybe vampires had unlocking spells like witches. A picture of Finn simply requesting the door to unlock for him flowed into my mind, and once again I shoved it away. Without any more effort than it takes to snap my fingers, I twisted the door handle and heard a grinding snap. The door swung open under my hand’s weight.
Laughter drifted to my ears from the open door. I paused and turned my head toward the noise. More laughter followed by an increase in volume and someone shouting about a new car dealership by the airport. The television.
Feeling stupid, I stepped inside the dark hallway. After shutting the door behind me, I quietly took a few steps forward, letting my eyes adjust. Ahead, I could see three doorways. Two dark, one with a glowing light pouring from it. I crept forward as quietly as possible. I came to the first dark room. It was closed off with a door, but I didn’t see any light coming from underneath. Quietly, I peered into the room. A small bathroom. Empty.
Moving on, I glanced into the second dark room. A stainless steel refrigerator peered back at me from the other side of the room.
Continuing down the hallway, I made my way to the final doorway and peeked through. The television glowed, an infomercial promoting a revolutionary new stain remover screeching loudly. Other than the solitary lamp beside the couch, there was no other light. In the glow of the lamp, lolled back onto the sofa cushions, was a sandy-colored balding head of hair. Sleeping. Although how the man could sleep with the television screaming like that was a mystery to me.
My gaze traveled over the rest of room. No one else there. No vampire waiting to jump out. Maybe I really was losing my mind. The vampire hadn’t wanted me to come in here. He’d just run away, and I was stupid enough to fall for it. Still, I had to be sure. I crept to the rear of the sofa.
Running my hand over the seam stretching the length of the back of the sofa, I made my way around, slowing down as I reached the end and turned to face the man.
Uncertainty washed over me as I looked at him. Was I seeing things? As I took another step forward, my heart sped up, a feat that shouldn’t have been possible. Another step and I was no longer confused. I knew what I was seeing.
The man’s white shirt was awash with red. It ran down his arm and soaked into the couch. Following the trail of blood back up, I saw the gaping, ragged holes glaring at me from his throat.
Even with the proof in front of me, I couldn’t accept what I was seeing. There was no feasible way the vampire had come in here and killed the man in the few seconds it had taken me to get from the street to the back door of the house. Yeah, he was fast. Fast enough I hadn’t even seen him run from the street, but not this fast. Surely.
Sweeping the room, I saw a staircase running up the far side of the living room. He was still here. He had to be.
Without thinking, I ran up the carpeted stairs, three at a time, and stopped abruptly at the top. There were only two doorways off a small hallway up here.
Slowly, I made my way to the first doorway and peered in, expecting something to smash into my face. For his fangs to come flashing out of the dimly lit room. A cold sweat broke out over my skin as I took in the bedroom.
A lanky woman lay sprawled across the bed, her feet tangled in pale blue sheets. Her long, limp, mousey-brown hair lay matted in blood, covering the bite marks in her neck. Her dull eyes stared at me as her head hung upside down from the edge of the bed. This didn’t make sense. Something was wrong. The vampire had not done this in the past two minutes. Still, he had to be here. Had to.
My unease spiking, I turned from her, cutting off her empty gaze. One room left. One more room and I’d have the vampire. One more room and it would be over. Either way it turned out, it would be over. One more room.
With less caution, I walked to the final room and stepped through the doorway.
Once again, the sight before me only caused confusion, making me unable to process what I was seeing.
I didn’t see the redheaded vampire. There weren’t eyes that called to me or tried to make me do their bidding.
Instead, there was long black hair hanging in curtains over the face of what appeared to be a small girl.
The girl’s feet lay in tangles of sheets, just like her mother’s, but her body arched upward, supported by the vampire’s arms. Blood dripped from beneath drapes of ebony.
Sensing my presence, the vampire’s head snapped up, her violet eyes flashing at me. Violet eyes!
Shoving the lifeless girl back onto the bed, causing her to bounce and then slide to the floor, the vampire came at me with such great speed, I didn’t even see her move. One moment she was by the bed, the next her hands were wrapped around my throat and pulling my head toward her.
My brain shouted to shove her away. Get away from her. Set her on fire. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t budge. Every synapse of my brain was consumed with only one thing.
“Sonia?”
The vampire’s head jerked backward, her flashing fangs arching away from my throat as those violet eyes snapped to meet mine.
It was her. True, her eyes shone more violet than ever before, a strange glint in them. Her perfect lips were curled in a snarl over her fangs, but it was her. It was Sonia. My heart gave a leap of joy as I whispered her name again, and then it crashed. As the image of the man on the couch, the woman in the bed, the destroyed child lying on the floor severed my elation. My heart ripped. Whatever had been left of it died. I had thought it was dead before, but there was no mistaking it this time. It was dead, as surely as the child at our feet. As dead as Sonia was. As dead as she should have been.
Our eyes held each other momentarily, each searching the other.
With a force that sent me crashing into the wall across the room, she shoved me from her, tearing from the bedroom, her long black hair whipping around her as she fled. Before I had even finished hitting the floor, I heard the door downstairs slam against the wall as she made her escape.
Sitting in the mess of broken toys I had landed on, for what must have been the billionth time in the past week, I sobbed. For Finn, for the pain I had caused him. For the life he hoped we would live together. For Sonia, for her death. For her having to die again one day. For me. For everything I had become. For everything I would never
be.
THE sun was beginning to peer through the pink lace curtains when my weeping finally ceased, at last truly leaving nothing in its place.
I stood up, pushing a gray stuffed elephant out of the way with my foot, and walked to the side of the bed. I looked down at the girl. She had been probably six or seven years old. Thick blonde lashes rested on her pale cheeks. Only the cavernous fissures in her throat and her chalky pallor destroyed the illusion of sleep.
Cocking my head at her, I was sure I was supposed to feel something. Pity. Outrage. Irony, maybe? Nothing. I felt nothing. Without another look at the girl or her slain parents, I made my way out of her room, down the stairs, and out the front door that was swaying gently in the breeze.
Epilogue
IT WASN’T the prophecy of the nymphs or the fortune telling of the demon. It definitely wasn’t God. Nothing led me. Nothing except myself. It wasn’t a thought or a decision. It just was.
By the time I walked onto the sand that was barely beginning to warm, there were already a few people milling about. An old man with a metal detector. A few joggers. A couple of ditzy girls already beginning their day of tanning.
The water was up to my knees when it occurred to me to take off my clothing. I slipped my sandals off, using the sand beneath my feet as leverage, and let my pants and shirt fall into the water and go where they would.
Wading out into the surf until I could no longer touch the bottom, I dove beneath the surface. Within four or five strong strokes I was far away from where anyone could follow.
I WAS over a hundred feet below when I felt the presence. The eyes were watching me. I couldn’t see them, but they were there. As before, my skin began to tingle. The water bubbled around me.
With another stroke, I sank deeper into the sea, leaving my fear and my fire behind. Whatever it was, whatever its intentions, it was time.
I waited, turning around slowly over and over again. I couldn’t see anything. There was nothing alive around me, not so much as krill or plankton. I was alone.
Refusing to move, I stayed where I was, neither rising nor falling. This would be my resting spot for eternity if that was what nature had in store. I couldn’t imagine much better.
I couldn’t see the light of the sun from the surface above, so I gradually lost track of time. There was no use for time here. Not in the darkness and coolness of the deep. There was no use for anything.
It might have been hours. It might have been weeks. Gradually, I became aware of the presence once more. I would feel it come close, think I felt something graze my skin, only to turn around and find nothing. The presence would leave, only to return sometime later. After several of these interactions, they became commonplace, and I no longer turned to see what had touched me. I didn’t prickle with anticipation when I felt it draw near. Whatever it was, it was part of the deep, just as I now was.
When I saw something in the distance, I thought I was seeing things, an underwater mirage. However, the harder I looked the closer it got.
Gradually, it took on form, getting closer, darting away once more, and then cautiously creeping forward yet again.
At last it swam up to me, pulling up even, and traded its horizontal swimming position for an upright one to match my own. We floated there face to face. Our eyes locked on each other, communicating volumes without so much as a word or a thought.
His long, white-blond hair swirled around him, at times brushing against my face. His shining pearl-white skin shimmered even in the absence of the sun. His glistening orange-golden tail occasionally flicked its flared fins to remain in place.
After every nuance of him had been forever burned into my mind, he stretched out a hand toward me and gave a slight motion with his long, willowy fingers. With that, he turned and began to swim away.
I followed.
AUTHOR’S NOTE & ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
AS I sit here thinking of everyone to thank, I am overwhelmed. Submerging was finished three years ago. Over those three years, I fought countless times to get both Submerging Inferno and The Shattered Door published. Now, here I am: Shattered has been published for several months, and Submerging is next. Men of Myth book two, Rising Frenzy, is already finished, and I’m getting ready to begin book three, Clashing Tempest. What an amazing feeling to know that by the beginning of 2014 all four books will be in publication. I am so grateful for my dreams finally beginning to come to fruition, and I am so thankful to all those who have stood by and supported me through this journey—for those who remember when I kept talking about all the books I was writing for all those years (rock star dreams) and who are still here now that I can honestly say that I’m a writer. I thank God for this gift and letting there be a lift under my wings.
First, thank you, Reader. Thank you for taking a chance on a new gay fantasy series. Thank you for wading into this world with me. I hope you enjoyed this first step into the lives of these men of myth. Get ready, it’s about to get stormy.
Elizabeth, thank you once again for being the one to say yes and seeing worth in my words. I am forever grateful and in your debt.
Anne Cain—You are magical. Thank you for the beautiful cover. It’s stunning and captures Brett perfectly.
Desi and the slew of editors—Thank you, thank you, thank you. You’d think after three years of editing the damn thing, I would have had zero mistakes for you to find, not the hundreds that you uncovered. Desi, you’ve made me a better writer. There’s no higher praise than that!
Trevor—I’m thanking you first of all the people who’ve been in my life for years, for it was you who first said, “Why don’t you write what you read?” Well, here it is! Pure fantasy.
Chad—You’re second because I wouldn’t have had the courage to try if it hadn’t been for you. You believed in my writing more than anyone I’d met up to that point. Your love inspired the first part of Submerging. The heartbreak inspired the rest. Thank you for your continued belief in my dreams and changing my life. This book is fully dedicated to you.
Sonia—I love you. Thank you for being “my little sister.” Know that, even though I am the world’s worst corresponder, I hold you dear and love you with all I am.
Joel—Thank you for creating the awesome Men of Myth badge! Thank you for lending your passion to mine, and for your loving friendship.
Michael “Mouse”—Thank you for also believing in my writing and your editing and feedback of Submerging, even though fantasy just isn’t your thing.
Stephen—As I said in Shattered, you weren’t around when Submerging was written, but you were there when I rushed home to tell you I had a publishing contract. Thank you for believing in my dream and supporting me through all the submissions, book signings (I’m pretending there was more than one), and self-promotions. Most of all, thank you for your love and walking through the beautiful and dark times with me. I love you!
Kevin—You will always be on the thank-you list, even though you don’t read, for being my best friend and letting my tears and laughter be yours and allowing me to give you the same gift.
To my family—My mom and dad. My wonderful brother, Trenton. My treasured nephew, Gavin. While my words are not what you would have me write, thank you for your love and being the most consistent and sustaining people in my life! I love you all so very, very much!
Patrick—As always, cuz. We dream, and we fly! I love that we are both beginning to soar. http://www.patrickalancasey.com/
Cheryl—Thank you for your support over the last few years. Coming into my classroom before our days begin, checking on both my heart and my writing. Your strength and humor are legendary. I will never have a blue cheese olive without thinking of you.
Dunkyn and Dolan—My beautiful corgis, my little men. I love you both so much! Dunk, without a doubt, you’ve been the most loyal man of my life. Thanks for sharing your life with me. And, yes, Dolan, I love you too—now quit licking me!
With so much love and gratitude,
Brandon
> About the Author
Photo by David Schmidt
Ink by Aries Rhysing
BRANDON WITT resides in Denver, Colorado. When not snuggled on the couch with his two Corgis, Dunkyn and Dolan, he can be found tucked away in his favorite coffee shop, nose inches away from the computer screen, fingers pounding the keys. When he manages to tear himself away from the coffee shop addiction, he passionately takes on the role as a special education teacher during the daylight hours.
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Coming Soon
Books Two and Three
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