The First to Fall: A Fallen Novel (The Fallen Series)

by Tanisha D. Jones

  “So where’s your cop, CeCe? Didn’t deem him proper for a family gathering?” Remy snarled.

  “Unlike you, who will drag any of your random conquests to family functions? What’s this one called?” She motioned towards the blond.

  “One warm body is good as any other. This is Ingrid. She is a very good friend. Tasty, right Gaston?” His tone was lewd and she nearly tossed a dinner roll at him, but Gaston grabbed her wrist and gave Remy a flash of his teeth, his eyes turned completely black, without a hint of white and he growled, a sound so low and threatening that she shivered. She had never seen Gaston so angry, and his grip on her wrist became painful.

  “Remy, stop it.” Jonas spoke in a voice that only the four of them could hear, the other guests had no idea what had just happened, and it was best to keep it that way. The last thing they needed at dinner was confrontation. But it took Gaston longer to regain himself. “Gaston,” CeCe touched his cheek and he looked at her with those onyx eyes.

  “Don’t you smell it?” He whispered and nodded towards Ingrid.

  Then it became very clear as to why he couldn’t stop. She could smell it all right, warm and sweet and so mouthwateringly delicious. She leaned forward, looking at the faces of those around the table and realized that most of them had transformed: animal-like eyes and bared teeth. Some involuntarily, some hungrily, all wanting a taste. They could smell her blood. Ingrid was on her period. Remy had done this on purpose; Ingrid wasn’t his bed partner du jour. Poor clueless Ingrid.... was dessert. She would be shared and used until they had gotten their fill, then glamoured into near oblivion.

  “Like a lamb to the slaughter,” she thought. Little did she know just how true that was.

  EIGHT

  Frustrated by the way the others had pounced after dinner, CeCe had gone off to her room, a bottle of wine tucked under her arm. The one thing she hated about these things was the sacrificial lambs brought in to satiate the masses. The poor souls were brought in and fed upon then glamoured to the point of imbecility before being released. It sickened her after witnessing it over the years, the ferocity with which they attacked. The poor deluded sacrifices would leave weak and confused, if they left at all. On more than one occasion, they had become overzealous in their feedings and the poor human would die. She had never participated, not needing blood to live, she didn’t crave it the way they did/ but she had witnessed it. That had been more than enough.

  She had finally managed to doze off once her nerves had calmed not realizing that as she slept, she was not alone. She was laying perfectly still in a blissful sleep when it entered filling the room, which smelled of burning wood, fresh linens and her own bath oils, with the stench of rotted flesh and animal. It was at the foot of the bed, crouching and looking at her with animal like eyes, its huge black wings wrapped around it like a cloak. It had long narrow fingers, shaped like talons dangling between its legs as it watched her sleep with curious fascination. She rolled onto her side, moaning softly in the throes of an alcohol induced dream. Slowly, it crept across the bed, so lightly she didn’t feel its approach, but its smell grew stronger as it moved closer and she crinkled her nose as the smell assaulted her. It stared at her in wonder, gently using a finger to push the hair out of her face, its feline eyes blinking slowly as it burned her features into its memory. The smell of her hair, the softness of her caramel colored skin, the high cheek bones and achingly beautiful face.

  “Lovely,” it whispered. “You are much lovelier than the other one. Much prettier, much shinier,” it hissed its breath hot and putrid near her ear.

  “The other is pretty as well.” Its voice invaded her dreams and she was bombarded by images of Eli bloody and choking, a gaping wound at his throat, his eyes staring heavenward.

  “The perfect pretty.” It whispered. Eli’s body twitched and he tried in vain to hold his hands over the pouring blood. He was choking to death and she could hear screams. Somewhere far off she could hear the screams of a hysterical woman. Then she saw her own hands covered in blood, his blood. He looked at her with pleading eyes and tried to speak, only nothing would come, only more blood. They reached for her and she fell to her knees as the life poured out of him. The screaming never stopped, it only got louder and turned into sobs of agony. As the last light of life flashed in his eyes, Celeste realized the screaming woman, was her.

  Shocked by the icy cold of its touch as it ran a human finger across her bare shoulder, CeCe sat up, suddenly wide awake and flipped on the light to find nothing there. The smell of fetid meat and animal remained, as well as a definite chill on her skin, but no demon. She looked around the room, checking to make sure what she saw was just a figment of her very vivid imagination, a bad dream. The doors that led to the balcony were securely closed and locked, the fire dying in the fireplace. She stoked it, adding another log to the hearth before climbing back into bed. She lay with her eyes closed, awake, waiting for it to come back. Thankfully, it didn’t, not to her, anyway.

  ***

  It was hungry but it couldn’t eat the woman. No, not yet. She was full of alcohol and that made the taste unbearable. It stood on the balcony outside of CeCe’s bedroom and looked down at the party goers’ gathered on the patio below. There was light and music and laughter coming from the French doors that led to what it supposed was a sitting or living room. It jumped up and perched on the wrought iron railing and leaned forward, sniffing the air. It hissed at the stench of demon and supernatural beings that floated on the late November air. The combined scents of those gathered below were nauseating. Standing to leave, balancing on the thin rail, it stood preparing to take flight to find better hunting grounds when a sweet smell wafted down from the third floor. It was warm and young and...Human.

  It soared upwards, landing with surprising grace and agility to the third floor balcony. The smell was stronger here, almost cloying. It stretched out a hand and the window slid silently open. Slowly and stealthily it slipped in and with lightning speed came to stand at the foot of the bed at the center of the wonderfully delicious aroma. On the bed, naked and sleeping, was a woman. She was long and lean with alabaster skin that looked as if it had never been touched by sunlight. Her hair was pale silver in the moonlight and fanned out against the deep burgundy duvet. Her face was round and cherubic almost, like a child’s, completely innocent in sleep. But her body, that was far from childlike. She had round full breasts and a bottom and thighs that were tight enough to bounce a coin on. It moved closer and inhaled deeply. It was a shame to soil such beauty, it thought, but she would be delicious.

  ***

  Eli found himself thinking of CeCe again that night, the smell of her lingered on his sheets and pillows. He had picked up the photos, cleaned the broken glass from the cologne bottles and the lamp, but she was still here. He couldn’t close his eyes without thinking of her soft and yielding, waiting for him. Whenever he closed his eyes, he imaged her lean naked body surrounded by the deep teal of his comforter. He pictured those heavily lidded eyes and kiss swollen lips and his body reacted. He rolled onto his stomach, burying his face into his pillow, which only made it worse. It smelled of her, even with the lingering scents of his destroyed cologne bottles, her scent seemed to dominate the room. Giving up, he jumped from the bed and made his way to his make-shift gym.

  Once he’d worked himself to exhaustion, he surrendered and headed back to his Celeste scented bed. He dozed off with the slight feeling that he was being watched. He reached out to pick up any nearby thoughts; he got his neighbor who was wishing she hadn’t eaten that third piece of pie; she had acid reflux that was killing her. A man walking his dog wished it would hurry up and pee, so that he could get back to his movie. This was the same man who always let his dog go in Eli’s yard; he could feel the guilt rolling off of him. There were random thoughts from his surrounding neighbors, most regarding too much food or drink or shopping in the morning, or starting a diet, and then there was something else.

  An animal. He’d nev
er picked up an animal, but this one was clearly thinking that it was hungry. Ravaged, starving for some fresh meat. Preferably alive, something to hunt. Then it was thinking of him, watching him, sleeping and wondered what he would taste like. That thought was quickly dismissed in favor of him joining them, becoming its kin.

  He was half asleep when he realized that it wasn’t an animal, exactly. It was something more than that, but not exactly human either and it was getting closer. He rolled over, not wanting it to realize that he was awake; slowly he reached beneath his pillow, his hand on the handle of his gun, and he waited. After only a minute, he caught a glimpse of something darting past his bedroom window, it was large and dark, moving extremely fast, like a blur in the night air. That couldn’t be right, he was on the second floor and there was no way anyone could be up there. He slipped from between the sheets and peered out of the window, just as a cat landed on the steps of his front porch below. It was a peculiar shade of purple gray and had large silver eyes. It looked at him and hissed, then sprinted away. Eli was completely baffled by the realization that he knew that cat, its mind was a scattered mess, but it had distinctly human thoughts, murderous thoughts about him. Not murderous, more possessive, covetous. As it melted into the shadows, he watched as it began to easily shift into a more human form, and then disappear around a corner. A nervous chill went through him. “Don’t go out there.” He told himself. “It’s gone. No harm, no foul. It’s all good. Go to sleep. You’re in the middle of a dream, so go to sleep Eli. Leave that thing right where it is. Leave it alone.”

  He didn’t.

  He’d put on his shoes and jacket and went after it, his gun tucked securely in its shoulder holster. When he rounded the corner, he found the street empty, aside from a lone person, heading towards the levee in the direction of the ferry landing. As quickly and as quietly as he could manage, he followed. It wore a hoodie, black, and baggy jeans. With its head down and a determined stride, he couldn’t decipher sex or race. It was either a teenage boy or a small woman, he thought. It was young, he decided because it was quick and agile. It paused for a moment, and lifted its face to the sky, sniffing, and he could see the faint outline of a pixyish face in the moonlight. It slipped into the trees at the base of the levee near the river, moving like a lynx into the darkness, making no sound, ruffling no leaves. He stood back and waited, watching, his chest suddenly tight with fear.

  A young woman came jogging around the corner, a large brown dog trotting beside her. She had ear buds in her ears and an mp3 player strapped to her arm, her reddish brown hair swung behind her as she bounced along the levee. She was young, early twenties and smiling at the large goofy brown mutt of a dog with his floppy ears and tongue hanging happily out of its mouth. She felt safe with him as protector, he realized, and continued her nightly jog, feeling light and carefree. A feeling a dread crept into the pit of his stomach and his body was covered in a cold sweat. He was running, as fast as his legs would carry him, adrenaline pushing him to move even faster, his heart hammering in his chest, but he was still too far away to stop it. He waved his hands in warning, yelling for her to move, to run away; she only glanced at him, slowly removing the buds from her ears, her face twisted in confusion as she tried to decipher his warning, her eyes locked on the shining barrel of his gun. The dog barked excitedly, bouncing back and forth, when the dark form swooped down, and the dog was gone. The sound of pained yelp echoed in the still of the night. She screamed in shock and Eli continued to yell quickly closing the distance between them.

  When she finally thought to run, it was too late. Moving in a blur of dark feathers and blood, its talons swiped at her face, opening hideous gashes in her beautifully pristine skin, her jaw hanging askew, her scream turning into gurgle of blood. She dropped to her knees and it knocked her to the ground, its mouth buried in her jugular, making greedy slurping noises, like a baby suckling its mother’s breast. The smell of burning flesh and the creature’s animal stench filled his senses. Eli lifted his gun and fired hitting it in the shoulders and back, with no effect. The bullet holes seemed to shrink as soon as they appeared, no blood spilled from the wounds, only the mushroomed bullets. It seemed to shake off the shots as nothing more than an annoyance, too preoccupied with its meal to be concerned. Eli continued to fire, unloading his weapon into its back, it only hissed at the distraction. With an unfathomable strength and speed, it lifted the woman’s limp body and launched itself upward, soaring like a rocket into the void of darkness. With shaky hands, he holstered his gun scanned the sky with his eyes and his mind, for any hint of the creature. There was nothing, just him breathing heavily, puffs of white billowing from him. His heart thudded against his ribs, the smell of blood, the creature and death wafting in the night air.

  ***

  Celeste awoke to complete chaos. There was screaming coming from the third floor and the sound of pounding feet in the hallway outside of her room. She sprang from the bed and threw her bedroom door open as Remy raced past.

  “What is going on?” She yelled, racing to catch up with him as he bounded up the stairs two at a time.

  “Someone killed Ingrid.” He mumbled. It took a moment before it dawned on her that Ingrid was the Nordic blond who had been Remy’s date and subsequent dessert.

  “What?” She paused for a moment, only to have someone, one of Jonas’ guests, bump into her on his way up.

  Instead of running up with the rest of the throng, Celeste closed her eyes and concentrated. She easily faded off of the steps and manifested in the guest bedroom where Ingrid’s body lay broken and bloody. She moved through the crowd, pushing past the men that encircled the bed. Jonas, Remy and Gaston stood bedside, staring in confusion at the remains of the once radiant beauty. They were dumbfounded at the state of her wounds. She lay on top of the covers, pieces of her flesh torn away in chunks; there were millions of tiny holes all over her pristine skin, oozing with something black and yellow. The smell was horrific. Around the room, those who had found her so delicious the night before were turning up their noses in disgust.

  “I have never seen anything like it.” Gaston was saying as she moved closer. “What could have done this?” Lisette gasped as she buried her face in Giovanni’s neck. He was the only one in the room who actually seemed pleased by what he saw. He thought it was beautiful, the mangled death of this woman, smiling the way one might smile at a work of art. CeCe felt her stomach churn. Pulling her eyes away from Giovanni’s smirking face, she touched Jonas’ arm.

  “It was here- the thing that killed Nicky,” she said. “Last night, I thought it was dream.” Jonas placed his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “What are you saying, Celeste?” She took a deep breath. “It was in my room last night. It could have been me.” He pulled her into his arms, clutching her, his eyes on the poor dead girl.

  “It could’ve been me,” she whispered.

  ***

  Eli banged on his desk in frustration. He hadn’t been able to go back to sleep after witnessing the jogger’s murder. Nor had he been able to report the incident to anyone. What would he say? Who would he tell, other than Riley, of course? Instead he’d spent the remainder of the night scrolling through site after site on demons, fairies and vampires. He’d even looked into the possibility that the damn thing was a chupacabra. When the words on the screen had begun to dance around in front of his eyes, he called Riley for help.

  Right now, what he needed, he thought, was a cup of coffee and a hot shower. He sat back, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands as the scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted into the small study. He stopped rubbing his eyes, his body still as he listened. He could hear the tell-tale beeping and steam release of the machine two rooms away. Someone had started his coffee maker. Standing slowly, he reached into the desk drawer for the .22 Glock he’d bought for Grace some time ago. He’d gotten it after a series of burglaries had plagued some of the homes in the Quarter. Grace, being Grace, had balked at the idea.

&
nbsp; “No, Eli. I do not want a weapon in my house. Besides,” she’d said with a wave of her hand, “I have Boogie. That’s almost like having a pit-bull.” So now it lived in the bottom drawer of his desk. Stealthily, he removed the safety before moving cautiously down the hallway. Once he got to the archway that led into the kitchen he hugged the wall before quickly scanning the room. Then he paused and listened for movement, there was none. He instinctively sniffed the air, but all he could smell was coffee. Closing his eyes he reached out with his mind for another thought pattern. There wasn’t any. He was alone.

  He moved into the kitchen and found it to be completely empty, yet the coffee maker beeped and chugged along, all on its own. He stood staring at it in confusion when he heard the familiar click of Riley’s key in the back door. He walked in whistling, looking fresh and well rested.

  “Good morning, E.” He chirped, but Eli didn’t respond. Riley moved closer and followed Eli’s line of vision to the coffee pot taking note of the gun against his thigh.

  “What are we looking at?” He asked.

  “Coffee maker.”

  “I can see that. Why are we staring at the coffee maker?” Riley clarified.

  “It’s making coffee,” he mumbled. Riley stared at Eli’s profile in confusion. It had finally happened, he thought. Eli had blown a fuse. Shaking his head, Eli looked at Riley and sighed.

  “I haven’t blown a fuse. I’m saying that it started working on its own. I didn’t turn it on.” Riley stared at the pot as well. It was not one of those new electronic marvels that could be programmed. No this was the old fashioned, pour the water in and push button, no frills manual coffee makers that they had stopped making in the early 1990’s.

  “Are you going to shoot it?” He asked.

  “Don’t know yet.” Eli answered honestly. He inhaled the intoxicating aroma and sighed before snapping the safety back into place.