Crimson Knight (Crimson Series Book 0)

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Crimson Knight (Crimson Series Book 0) Page 11

by K. L. O Johnson


  “Zar . . . lach!” I desperately breathed. The pain throbbed and I felt drained. As my body drummed heavily. I felt sluggishly thick and rigid as stone. Soon enough something warm dripping from Zarlach’s hand fell on my lips. The metal taste was disturbing but I was quick to realise it was blood. He was feeding me. I felt it pool into my mouth. My head felt blank and my body felt numb. My throat burned a comforting burn even though my stomach ached. The next thing I heard, was the sound of my agonising screams that mirrored the shattering sound of my shifting bones.

  *.*.*

  Three days later,

  My body became vigilant bit-by-bit. As my head throbbed before eventually fading away into a light hum that reminded me my brain may have over loaded at some point. This recognition slowly pulled my mind awake enough to want to stretch open my eyes. Feeling something soft, warm and cool beneath me. I felt contended to return to sleep but something kept me awake, an aching burn in my throat that never ceased to quench. My eyes snapped open, everything was crystal clear, perfect and sharp regardless of its microscopic size or over bearing presence, the sound of the leaves outside my window swaying in the wind wound through my mind as did the footfalls approaching my room was clear as my smooth even breaths.

  I sat up, awake and alert. Someone was coming, someone that I was familiar with but this new sense I felt was almost like a connection a bond that I never knew existed to that person on the other side of my door. But the one thing that tempted my mind like a hypnotic dance was the smell of fresh blood, it was in a glass cup on a tray, I didn’t know how I knew but I did know I was right because the moment that accustomed presence opened the door. I spied a full glass of blood and blood bags on the tray, my mouth went dry and my throat ached. “Good to see you’re up, you must be hungry,” commented a familiar voice but it was drowned out by my primitive hunger. I heard the person stifle a laugh and crawled out from under my covers and over my bed towards the edge, closing the distance between me and the sustenance I desired—like my life. The glassware was handed to me and I devoured it quickly and I strained to devour the rest that clung to the walls and base of the frustrating schooner.

  My mind began to draw in on my surroundings more clearly. After my thirst was quenched I realised Zarlach sat at the edge of my bed with a small smile playing his lips. “Are you satisfied for now?” he asked, his eyes firm but features relaxed. I wiped away the blood that I could smell on my lips. With my tongue I kneaded all I could and ducked a bit now realising I acted like an animal at meal time—it was degrading. I nodded. “Good, how are you feeling?”

  “Great,” I truthfully answered, my body felt like it could run a hundred miles and probably win. I glanced down at my hands plastered between my legs as the kept my body up right, my palms smoothing against the silk blood red quilt beneath my fingers. “I was never human to begin with, was I?” I asked afraid to look up.

  “No.”

  “So my life was a lie?” I pressed. Zarlach was silent. “My friends back in Moscow, what would they think of me now if they knew the truth?” Zarlach remained quiet and this time I glared at him as ferociously as I could. “You will answer me!” I demanded than noticed that Zarlach’s face went blank and his face downed, as if hypnotised, it was a scary sight but he answered me nonetheless.

  “Yes, your life was a lie but only to protect you, you the only descendent of an ancient bloodline, as your survival means our survival. The humans back in Moscow will most likely be scared but not too afraid to report you to the police. Earth has now long lived with aliens, demons, monsters and Outlandish creatures all of whom—good are protected by the United Council. The position which you will take in the future as such your future will involve many diplomatic negotiations.”

  Before I could ask another question, the door opened and my mother glared at me. “Cecelia!” she scolded. “Release Zarlach now!” She stormed over to me and sat at the edge of the bed before me but beside Zarlach who looked like a mindless puppet. “You must never use submission again on anyone that is your ally!”

  “I didn’t know.” I defended, scared. “I don’t know how to turn it off.” Closing my eyes, I held my hands together and prayed, without realising it Zarlach returned to normal. His gaze was confused but registered the moment I asked if he was okay, he took in his surroundings before his eyes landed on me—they became hostile. “I’m sorry.” I added quickly.

  “Submission is illegal in our current society.” Mother stated as she turned her gaze from Zarlach and to me, “If not careful you can break a person’s mind and send them into insanity.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t know. I just asked Zarlach to not be silent on me,” I confessed feeling horrible, crossing my arms. I eyed the sleeping bird, within the hollow of a tree, in the distance beyond my large window. Over the opposite end of the foggy valley that stretched several thousands of miles. I was surprised to learn I could see clearly the soft movement of its chest and still feathers were immobile as if it were several inches in front of me.

  “Well . . . now you know. You must be careful, your power is vast, Cecelia, and because of it. People will fear you more than they’ll learn to love you. You must learn to use it responsibly. Nothing in this world exists without consequence.” Mother stood from the bed and held out her hands to me. “I trust Zarlach will forgive you because you’re a new born.”—my mother eyed Zarlach who nodded at her suggestion as I allowed her to pull me out of bed—”However, you need to come down stairs with me. I’ve already placed your clothes within the closet at the far end of the room, an outfit appropriate for this occasion.” Zarlach stood and left as it was his queue to do so leaving the blood bags in the process.

  Before he disappeared behind the door I called, “I really am sorry.” He smiled and nodded before departing my chamber, lightly closing the door behind him.

  “Now on your feet we don’t have time to waste.” My mother prompted her hands motioning me to rise. I did and turned to where my folded material sat, I regarded the metal plates and wondered if I had to take them as well—not wanting to push my mother’s patience even father I took it with me and headed to the closet. Opening the walk-in-closet, I smiled and peered around the corner and asked, “Mother, someone was here, weren’t they? Someone was here for me.”

  Mother was quiet for a moment, her pale beautiful features were conflicting with a truth and a lie. I hoped she’d go for the truth, “Yes Cecelia. A man was here for you but managed to get away. That’s why it’s important you start training, immediately.”

  A man? Training? “Wait . . . what about school?” I asked, pressing the slim patients my mother had, she sighed.

  “That will be taken care of in due time. Now hurry up. The wardens don’t like to be kept waiting.” she said and gave me a small smile. “I promise, I’ll answer all your questions but you must do this for me to ease both your father and I’s, everlasting fear for your safety.” I knew those words she said weren’t in a way to manipulate me like some parents or so I’ve heard—my mother genuinely meant it. The concern in her eyes were evident and whenever my mother was agitated like she was now it was time I did what was required. I nodded and drifted into the closet to change. Only to notice I wasn’t changing into jeans and a t-shirt but into a black scaly combat suit with armoured guards like the one I saw the others outside wearing. If it were like the others, I’d notice the stomach would be revealed as would the inner thighs and inner upper arms. The suit was a one piece and I threaded my fingers around the fingerless gloves.

  Disregarding how odd this would feel wearing, I pulled on the single scaly suit and admired myself in the mirror before placing the metal plates on. As I glanced at myself in the mirror and knew I was correct. My upper inner arms weren’t concealed, neither was my stomach, inner thighs or my fingers after my middle knuckles. My feet felt a little bear and I wondered if I’d get to put on my sneakers or not. As I left the closet, I painfully learnt I had to leave my sneakers behind and followed after
my mother down the winding halls. “Mother is this get-up really necessary?” I asked.

  Soon enough, I chided by my general slang. I rolled my eyes and was chided once more—so I gave up those actions and walked down the stairs quietly behind my mother, the moment she hit the landing was the same moment I was fearfully fixed in place. Before me were the members of the Faction at Mortem Academy. Everyone who noticed my mother and I immediately dropped down on one knee with a hand over their heart.

  I wanted to ask what to do but all I recalled was my mother telling me to keep my head high and glide. Easy for her to say, she’s not the one in a skin tight suit. I thought, bitterly. My mother held out her hand, I descended towards her and caught her sturdy grip. My father was by my side and my mother. We slithered through the through of people, their eyes dazzled, making our way towards the two cloaked figures at the end where I noticed Kal stood a uniform of some kind. It was all blue and scaly. It was a similar design to my suit except, her suit was black, blue and silver with three layers of armour. Her suit didn’t reveal skin, other than the fleshy skin on her face, the patches that were supposed to be revealing like mine were black along with her fingers.

  She caught my gaze and smiled for the first time, I smiled in return hoping this was the start a beautiful friendship. We stopped before those cloaked figures, I was unsure was they the same as the ones I had met outside or not. To my surprise, everyone including my parents kneeled before them.

  “You may rise,” said a friendly female voice. As we did, I noticed she pulled back her hood as did the man beside her. The woman shockingly looked a lot like Kal.

  The sight of my parents kneeling down before the woman who looked like Kal was confusing, even if, I remembered who we were and what we were—we were royals the purest blooded Vampieruz in existence and have been for millennia. I also remembered who the Nefaliem were—hybrids of angels and demons—the first of us and the most powerful of all beings in existence.

  Their power frightened me but the smile the woman effortlessly revealed, told me otherwise. The Caucasian male beside her resembled a soldier or a knight—he stood tall and proud but humble with a slight flood of dominance surrounding him that only glowed brightly, against his silver armour and his various weapons—concealed by his silver cloak. They all had it even now I can sense it. The strangest part was Kal didn’t have any dominance in her presence whatsoever. Instead, it was a presence of rebellion mixed with respect something I never thought could ever co-exist peacefully within an individual.

  Once we all had risen the silver haired and coffee golden skinned woman walked gracefully towards me. Her footsteps were silent and her movements were controlled. She continued to smile stretching her blood red lips into a comfortable but warming expression of openness. “And, you must be the young Princess of the Vampieruz. Princess Cecelia Ranaldi Rusakova. It’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. Allow me to introduce to you formally my daughter. Kal, sweetie,” the woman purred and Kal moved from her father’s side and to her mother’s. “I’ve been told that you two have briefly met,” she motioned and I wanted to confirm it by saying something but didn’t, “This is Kalverya Kothanilye Nindo, the young heir to our throne.” I slightly bowed in Kal’s presence and for some reason she glared.

  She continued, “As you’re perhaps not aware, since my dear, you have only re-joined us. The others you’ve met under Mr. Sivortsova’s guard were too heirs of their own races. As are you and my daughter. Now before I can bore you any further,”—I felt my face heat at the comment, I mean, I wasn’t that bored—”You children are the descendants of ancient and powerful bloodlines and as such are sent to places where you’ll learn and endure to become what we require you to be.” She turned her gaze from me and over my shoulder as did Kal and my parents. I heard it the heavy footfalls echoing from the darkness of an adjacent hall, the sound of rattling chains didn’t help in easing my fear at all.

  I soon followed their gaze but ended up regretting it. What now? I thought a little exasperated but aimed to not show it after all, now that I remember who and what I was, I couldn’t disappoint my parents. “This Cecelia . . .” I felt the empress wave, “. . . is your and the other’s, combat instructor and multi-unit lecturer.” The creature that wandered heavily towards us was not human, he was large and grizzly—thick blue scaly skin and silver bristles that covered the exposed areas of his blue scaled suit and silver armour. “His name is Volvomich.” The head of the United Council declare before I heard my father whisper “good luck” in my ear and my mother’s encouragement “knock ‘em dead”—something I was surprised my gentle mother knew—surely they were aware that not even their reassuring squeezes could save me from what I faced next.

  And what I faced next, was an oversized and thickly muscled Nefaliem—his hybrid energy—was a dead giveaway. The Resoncretalian throng of beings soon began to depart at the Queen of the Nefaliem ‘s, the Empress of us all, request as she slinked away with her husband. She was the second leader of the United Council—the Syndicate of Resoncretalians that work to keep the existence between mortal and Outlander.

  My parents disappeared out of the room, then the rest within the foyer followed to depart, including, the members of the Faction who eyed me with apologetic expressions. The only one that did say something was Bella, I noticed her blood red eyes and sudden long silver hair, “I know you can endure, my Princess.” Like that she slipped into the crowed and even with my now sharpened senses she was difficult to spot.

  “Well . . . well,” the deep thick voice of our seven-foot instructor stated. “I hope you can keep up little Vampieruz.” Volvomich jabbed a large thick finger against my cleavage just below my neck. I knew he was taunting me as I heard the laughter of everyone around me including Kal’s. Annoyed, I glared and stupidly said:

  “Bring it.” Volvomich smiled, turning his heel he left. The others followed after him and I watched confused before I made my decision.

  I filed after them and walked behind group, “I hope you know what you’ve gotten yourself into tyro,” Mark commented and I regarded him with a perplexed expression. He laughed when I didn’t say anything. “Relax, he won’t do his worst. But even then, I can’t promise it won’t hurt.”

  I felt Jordan drop back and looked up at him, his golden brown hair shimmied under the wall lamps that filled the red carpet lined halls. His green eyes seemed to glow against his golden tanned skin. “I’m sure he won’t hurt you that much as . . .” he trailed off, his gaze drifting to the back of Kal’s head. Her dark black thick curly hair sat in a high elegant bun on her head, emphasising her high but soft cheekbones and delicate features.

  She was pretty, perhaps not like Odette but she reminded me of a porcelain doll—cute and minus the pale skin. Her oval face and slightly narrow jaw is something I have to say I wish I had. Instead, I was stuck with a squared face and a wide jaw my chunky cheekbones didn’t help in making me look like any doll and Odette reminded me of a perfect Barbie doll. Spotless skin and a soft tan.

  I wished I could tan but after what I said to a ridiculously large person, I may never wish for anything again. Volvomich didn’t appeared angry instead he appeared amused and I didn’t know if that was a good thing or not but giving the unconfirmed circumstances of our situation—I fear the worst.

  Soon we descended down a flight of medieval stairs, it was dark and no light was seen. Surprisingly this didn’t scare me because I could see the steps before me as if it were bright as day, I could clearly see the outline of Kal and Odette before me and as I peered over my shoulder. I saw Jordan, Marcus and Daphne. Her straight wavy fair fell down to her waist as she locked her gaze on the back of Marcus’s head. I cautiously regarded Marcus and he smiled encouragingly at me in the darkness. Worried asked a question that pulled everyone’s attention on me including Daphne’s—someone who I still haven’t had a chance to speak to yet. “What do you mean by if?”

  Marcus’s laughter echoed down the spiral st
one staircase and I think I heard both Volvomich and Kal hiss. I looked back before me and noticed Volvomich and Kal stopped at the landing their eyes glowed brightly in the darkness of a deadly fierce azure—they did act in that moment as demons or something close but enough to be scary. “Oops, sorry.” Marcus apologised.

  “Wait . . . why are you apologising?” I asked and heard Daphne sigh.

  “Might as well explain it,” Daphne said for the first time since we’ve arrived, her voice, was like Odette’s was smooth and angelic. “Nefaliem hearing is much more sensitive than all—the Outlanders, so when dummy here laughed in this confined space”—she nodded her head in the direction of Marcus—”it was like sending a high pitched frequency through their ears. Enough to drive them crazy.”

  “It doesn’t drive us crazy,” Kal’s voice soothed in the darkness. “It’s just painful—I prefer my brains not to be scrambled—thank you.”

  “I agree.” Volvomich grunted.

  I heard the heavy paces of Volvomich as he vanished around the last turn. I followed after Odette who silently directed what was left of our little group. I soon stepped out into a room or tunnel of sorts and at the end of this shaft, was a caged door.

  EIGHT

  The Dark Cartel

  I was able to walk beside Jordan, as the corridor was wide enough to fit five people across in a row but perhaps not high enough to stop Volvomich’s head from barely scrapping the stone bricks above. He had to duck his head every now and again to avoid hitting the lights. Several large beams were rooted to the ceiling which revealed the history of this place. Soon enough, we were at the gate and we entered inside while Volvomich locked it firmly in place.

 

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