by Aliya DalRae
Fallen Warrior
Aliya DalRae
Fallen Warrior Copyright © 2019 by Aliya DalRae
All rights reserved.
First Edition, 2019
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, organizations, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places, locations, events or establishments is purely coincidental.
Contents do not reflect the beliefs or views of cover models
or image contributors.
Cover Design by RM Designs
Image Contributor: fotokvadrat
Image Contributor: ArturVerkhovetskiy
ISBN:
ISBN-13:
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Many thanks to Renee at RM Designs for yet another incredible cover design. Just when I think they can’t get any better, you pull this cover out of your bag of tricks. I can’t wait to see what you come up with next!
To my fabulous friends and family who have stuck by me through the entire Jessica Sweet journey, and now beyond – I am grateful for your support. I love you all so much!
To my beta readers, Amanda, Renee and Sarah – Thanks for keeping me on track! I’m forever grateful to you for undertaking that mad hunt for typos and errors, letting me know when I zigged when I should have zagged. I can’t… no, I won’t say how many times you’ve saved me from myself! To all of you, I understand how valuable your time is, and I can’t tell you how much it means that you gave so much of it to help make Warrior the best it can be. I can’t even begin to thank you.
And to Kirk, forever and a day, in this life and the next, you are my one, my only, my immortal.
Table of Contents
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
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Epilogue
About the Author
Visit Aliya
Also by Aliya DalRae
Chapter One
T he dreams always started the same.
Twelve-year-old Katsuro working the fields with his father in the light of the full moon.
Katsuro in the kitchen with his mother as she prepared fish stew and rice for their midnight meal.
An argument between mother and son over something so mundane, Katsuro couldn’t remember what it might have been.
That’s when things got dark. Literally.
As he dreamed, the anger built within Katsuro, filling him with a darkness so complete, it sucked the light from the room, and not only in the dream. As he slept, the ambient light in his suite disappeared, just as the candles were extinguished in the vision.
And then the screaming began. His mother’s horrible cries of, “Akuma! Akuma!”
Demon.
The strange darkness ebbed as Katsuro ran to his mother’s defense, searching the room for this demon she feared, his anger fading as her terror became his own. When he reached her, however, her screams escalated, and she beat at him with the wooden spoon she’d used to stir the stew.
It smelled of sea bass.
Outside his dream looking in, Katsuro wondered at that particular distinction, but before he could fully grasp the significance, the vision progressed. It always did.
His father burst into their hut, his sword drawn, prepared to take down any enemy who dared threaten his family.
“Akuma! Akuma!” his mother continued to scream, her eyes wide and streaming with pink Vampire tears as she pointed that fishy spoon at Katsuro, her back pressed against the wall.
Katsuro’s father looked at him and lowered his sword.
“Father, no,” he cried. “We need your sword! Danger is near!”
But his father shook his head and sheathed his blade. His mother’s screams intensified as she begged his father to do something, destroy the demon. Father took her in his arms and whispered soothing words that Katsuro could not hear. Then he turned to the boy and motioned him outside.
“What about Mother?” he cried. “What about the demon?”
“Once we’re outside, your mother’s fears will ease.”
“But…”
“Come, son. We have a long journey ahead of us.”
Katsuro understood nothing, but to disobey would be to dishonor his father. And so, he helped saddle two horses, climbed upon the one ironically called Star, and followed his father away from the only home he’d ever known.
He would never see it, or his mother, again.
The night was black as pitch, with no moon, not even a star to light their way. Katsuro didn’t recall the new moon being upon them, but that was a passing thought as his fear magnified with every league they journeyed.
They did not stop until dawn threatened to overtake them. Father found a cave where they would shelter from the sunbeams, certain death for one of their race. They did not talk. Katsuro tried several times to ask where they were going, but his father shook his head, his eyes bright with inexplicable tears.
For three nights they continued northward, resting during the day in caves or abandoned sheds. On the fourth night, they reached their destination. Katsuro’s father took Star from him and rode off into the night, leaving his only child alone in the middle of the road. He did not look back, no matter how the child cried.
Katsuro tried to chase after him, but he was restrained by someone with hands of steel. The person was far too strong, Katsuro no more than an insect in his grasp, his struggles useless.
By the time the male let him go, his father had disappeared around the furthest bend in the path, leaving no question that Katsuro was not meant to follow. He fell to the ground as that strange darkness surrounded him again, and the reality of his abandonment struck him in the chest, stole the air from his lungs.
When his tears finally dried and his breathing evened out, he stood and turned to see what hell he’d been consigned to. The fear of being deserted by his father turned to panic. Dozens of males watched him, witnesses to the worst moment of his life. Every one of them had eyes as black as night and wore grim expressions that set dread upon Katsuro’s heart.
These were the Kurai Senshi, the demon Vampires his mo
ther had threatened him with when he was being difficult. He’d always assumed they were imaginary monsters, that his mother made them up to frighten him into behaving. He knew in his heart she would never send him away, would never turn him over to those dreaded creatures, even if they were real. He knew without a doubt that his parents loved him too much to abandon him.
He was wrong.
Chapter Two
M erlin woke with a start, his heart pounding as he struggled to gather his bearings. He sat in his foyer, back pressed against the wall, the door in front of him looming like a monolithic barrier, tall and foreboding. He’d been through it a million times, walked the halls of the Legion manse exponentially more. And for the first time in centuries he had no idea what awaited him on the other side of that polished oak.
He braced his palms on the floor to steady himself, letting his earlier conversation with Mason push the remnants of the dream into shadows. There, they would become memories that lurked in the darkness until his defenses were once again lowered, ready to attack the moment he became vulnerable.
He drew his knees in and linked strong, sturdy hands around them, rested his head upon them, as what he was about to do hit him in the chest like a medieval mace. In a few hours, when the sun met the horizon, he would leave his home, his family, for the second time in his life.
Long, dark hair fell into his eyes, and he pushed it behind his ears out of habit. Where would he go? For a male who spent the majority of his time researching and planning, it came as a surprise that he had no idea. The decision to leave had come upon him suddenly, and he’d acted before he could change his mind. If not for the bright morning sun, he’d be long gone by now.
Mason hadn’t been thrilled, had argued of course, but his Warlord knew as well as he did that it was too dangerous for Merlin to stay.
He glanced at his watch. Nine AM. How long had he slept before the dreams consumed him? An hour? Maybe more? He took a deep breath, forcing his racing heart to slow. When it reached an acceptable pace, he pushed himself to his feet, stumbled into the bathroom and leaned over the sink, where he cranked the faucet to C. Cool water spilled into the basin, and he gathered some into his hands, splashed it on his face. When he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, he froze, not recognizing the male who stared back at him.
His eyes were still black. When the Shade consumed him in the dream, it took him in life as well, though at a far lesser degree. In time, his irises would fade to their natural brown, and the lights in his suite would once again chase away the shadows. But until he calmed down, he would be forced to sit in the dark. Of course, he could see just fine, but anyone else in the vicinity would be plagued with blindness. Even the Vampires. Thank the gods that anyone nearby would be asleep.
The Shade. That dark essence that made him different, Vampire, yes, but so much more. Where other Vampires’ eyes sparked with light when their emotions rose, Merlin was cursed to steal that light and every lumen nearby, absorbing it through his blackened eyes, feeding off its power. The stronger the emotion, the farther his power reached. He was a demon, by his own mother’s declaration, and there was a price on his head.
Merlin turned on the shower and waited for the water to warm. The dream crept back into his waking mind, its impact weightier than when it played out in his sleep.
As a boy, he’d been eager to experience his first awakening, that coming-of-age moment when his eyes would spark for the first time and he’d become an adult, a true male of the race. It was a grand day in the life of a young Vampire, and he’d pushed his emotions every night to try and force it out. That was probably why he argued with his mother so often. Had he known the future destined to befall him, he would have been nicer to the female.
He walked into the shower and tipped his head back, allowing the hot water to soak his hair and ease away the tension brought on by the dreams. And this hadn’t been a bad one. He’d awakened before it took that horrible turn into death, into blood and loss.
Into dishonor.
Merlin reached for the shampoo and lathered up. The spicy scent worked its magic, clearing his head of cobwebs and nightmares and a future of uncertainty. By the time he’d rinsed and dried, his eyes had returned to normal, so he switched on the light in his bedroom. He’d learned long ago that sleeping with the lights on resulted in burst lightbulbs and glass in his feet. You could never get all those shards up. It was impossible.
But that spoke volumes as to the intensity of his dreams. He had to be pretty fucked up to bust lightbulbs. In the old days when the Shade consumed him it was no big deal—a few candles died out and the stars faded from sight. Now, with all the world’s technology, it was a dangerous power to have. The Legion was well off, but if they had to replace computer monitors every time Merlin got miffed, they’d be destitute in short order.
He’d learned to meditate from the Kurai Senshi, the Dark Warriors who had taken him in when his unusual power made itself known. They were all like him, touched by the Shade, and they taught him many methods for keeping the power at bay. The meditation and other training were responsible for his normally mild temperament. But now, the control he’d perfected over the last millennium had virtually slipped through his fingers.
He stepped into a pair of leather pants, pulled on a black t-shirt, and settled himself on the sofa where he absently powered up his laptop. As he waited, he leaned the back of his head against the couch and closed his eyes.
Chapter Three
T akeshi stepped off the private jet at the Wright Brothers Airport and set his bag on the tarmac while he adjusted his jacket. Airport… pfft. It was no more than a couple of hangars with an air strip, not at all what the name implied. However, the Shade had guided him to, of all places, Ohio, and this airport registered closest to his target. Katsuro Senshi, though he hated referring to the male as Warrior.
He was an abomination, an embarrassment to the Kurai Senshi if ever there was one. He brought dishonor upon the entire Clan, and worse, lacked the courage to atone for his sins.
Takeshi rolled his shoulders, cracked his thick neck and picked up his bag. His long black hair was pulled into a high top knot, held with a number of potential weapons posing as adornments. His fingers itched to use them on that traitor, Katsuro, but he had to find him first.
He looked up and breathed in deeply, the cool night air burning his lungs. The sky was bright with a full moon, and a million stars to penetrate the darkness. The heavens hadn’t changed much over the last thousand years or so, and though the constellations sat at different angles here than they did in Japan, that didn’t change what they were. No more than running to the other side of the world changed who and what Katsuro was.
Traitor. Coward.
A car pulled out of the shadows and stopped in front of Takeshi. The driver got out, rounded the sleek, black vehicle and opened the rear door, motioned for Takeshi to enter. As he climbed in, the driver stashed his bag in the trunk and returned to the vehicle. He reached across the seat and his jacket shifted, revealing a small falling star tattoo at the base of his neck. Kurai Senshi.
Takeshi smiled. The Clan had grown large over the centuries, expanded beyond the confines of his island home. Vampires were everywhere, so it stood to reason that the Chosen would be discovered all over the globe as well. Small cadres had been strategically placed and they monitored their area closely, searching the Shade for a sign that a new Kurai Senshi had been chosen. They nearly always needed to be rescued from the still superstitious Vampire race, though on occasion the young warrior would be brought to them by a sympathetic family member.
That’s how they had acquired Katsuro, all those years ago. His father had brought him to their cadre and handed him over into Master Masaru’s care. Would have been better had they drowned the pup, saved the Clan a lot of trouble.
The driver maneuvered the vehicle southward, through a quaint town that opened to wide spaced residences with lots of land. A couple of turns and many miles later the
y crossed a small stone bridge which led down a twisted lane lined with towering pines and majestic maples.
The trees gave way to a large open lot, in front of a magnificent home. White stone, and several stories high, it was faced with a grand porch, propped with enormous marble pillars. Wide, marble steps led to arched double doors, which opened before the vehicle came to a full stop.
Takeshi let himself out of the car and leaned back to take in the view. It was a powerful sight, as was that of the male who descended the steps to greet him. He wore blue jeans and a grey sweater, and his blond hair fell in loose curls around his ears. A pair of deep dimples accented his smile, giving him a congenial air. And yet, despite his manner and casual dress, the tall male exuded an energy beyond all but the most powerful Kurai Senshi Takeshi had ever encountered.
Master Jonathan was young by Vampire standards, but Takeshi knew his reputation. He had formed this cadre several centuries ago and was known throughout the Clan for having rescued Chosen numbering in the hundreds over that period. Not all survived, of course, but his success rate was among the highest in the world.
“Takeshi Senshi,” the male said as he approached, hand extended. “So glad you could make it.”
Takeshi ignored the hand, placed his palms together in a sign of respect, and bowed. “I am honored to meet you, Master Jonathan.”
The loud laugh startled him, and when he looked up the master was grinning.
“We don’t stand on formalities around here. Call me Jon.” The male threw his arm around Takeshi and ushered him up the steps. “James will bring your bag in and get you set up in your new digs. Until then I imagine you must be hungry.”
Takeshi withstood the physical contact, though it took all his training to do so. “Thank you for your hospitality,” he said, though it pained him to be civil. “However, I would prefer to begin my search for the traitor immediately.”