Fading Darkness (Bloodmarked #1) Read online

  Fading Darkness

  By

  Alicia Deters

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2014 by Alicia Deters

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover design by Tugboat Design

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  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

  Acknowledgements

  For you, the reader. You’re awesome!

  1

  I had my iPod cranked up so high that I was sure any passers-by could hear the string of obscenities blaring through the ear buds. I was sure I would be getting a few glares and stink eyes tossed my way. That is, if there were any people out right now crazy enough to walk these streets this late at night. So call me crazy, but I liked the ambiance, the solitude, the overall lack of general populous rushing through their day-to-day routines and their normal, happy, clueless lives. That’s not my life, and it’s not a life that was ever meant for someone like me.

  The all-to-familiar pains of my past threatened to surface and compromise my emotional state, but before I really had a chance to delve into my depressing life story, I sensed someone, or more than one someone. Moment of self-reflection, or was it self-pity, over.

  I didn’t need to think about how different my life was from all those normal people out there because I was stuck living it. As if proving my point, I sensed them nearby. It’s like sensing a storm coming before it hits. The energy in the air changes the atmosphere, but this particular energy was negative, so bad I felt it in the pit of my stomach, bringing on the accompanying nausea. It’s a lot like getting so worked up and angry that it makes me sick.

  Finally, I saw the dark shadows stretch and dart across the alley in the amber glow of the flood lights on the sides of the big brick buildings. Guess I’ll have to get back to wallowing in said misery later. It always comes back to me.

  I turned my iPod down and scanned the area looking for the source of those shadows. Adrenaline pulsed through me leaving my body humming with anticipation. I could feel the pressure of my blood flowing just beneath the skin as I waited for the heightened senses that came along with the adrenaline rush to kick in. The mouth of the alley came into sharper focus. No movement.

  Hmmmm. They’re hiding.

  “Come on boys. Don’t play coy with me.” It was in my nature to taunt. Why draw out the inevitable? Plus, I was getting tired and cranky so the sooner we got this over with, the sooner I get some sleep.

  “I’m not really into playing games, so if there’s something you want, tell me now or I’m going to keep walking,” I demanded.

  “I want to do more than play,” said the one hiding in an alcove within the alley. He broke away from the shadows and began to approach. I noticed that he was tall with dark, curly hair and a body like a bouncer. The word burly came to mind.

  If I was a normal girl, I would probably scream, or run even, but like I said, I’m not normal, and that’s not how I handled this particular situation.

  “My patience is starting to wear thin,” I responded as I approached, crossing my arms. My fingers found and curled around the cold steel of the railroad spike I pocketed in my jacket earlier tonight. “So why don’t we just cut to the chase and you tell me the real reason you’re in a place like this at this hour.”

  “I’m out here to have a little fun with a pretty thing like you,” he said evasively as he stalked closer to me, leaving less than a foot of space between us. He smelled of earth and a little bit of pine. But using my supersensitive sense of smell I picked up a hint of decay and rot on his skin and a strong metallic scent in his breath.

  “Why can’t they ever just give me a straight answer and admit to being evil, murderous, bloodsucking monsters?” I asked myself out loud. To him I said, “Okay, you have about five seconds to step away from me before I get really pissed.” I had this thing about people invading my personal space- I hated it. And it wasn’t doing much for my thinning patience.

  “Or what? Let me guess. You have pepper spray,” he so cleverly deduced, because all girls wondering the streets alone at night are so defenseless that the only weapon they could possibly handle is a can of pepper spray. He obviously hasn’t kept up with the times. He better be careful not to run into beauty queens packing pink 38 Specials. Not that it mattered now, because tonight, he ran into me.

  In a flash, he moved around me standing so close I felt that nasty, cool breath on my neck, and it made my skin crawl all the way down my spine. With him behind me and not invading my entire sense of smell, my survival instincts increased and I picked up on other scents surrounding me. One of those old buildings either housed an Italian restaurant or a resident who really loves cooking with garlic. It was a strong odor coming off the nearby dumpsters along with other various food items past their expiration dates. Unfortunately, the old myths don’t apply, and garlic would not benefit me in fighting off these hard-to-kill bastards. But the good thing is that they’re not impossible to kill.

  “No, no pepper spray. How about a little holy water, would that work?” I asked. It was always a risk to expose my knowledge of them and their existence. If word spread through the underground world that a human knew too much, let’s just say it would be very hazardous to my health, but I didn’t intend to leave any survivors to pass that message along.

  He made a low, throaty growl in response and managed a barely-contained verbal response that sounded like, “No, just try it little girl.”

  He was right. Although holy water can’t kill them, it did seem to do a little damage. I always just assumed it had something to do with them being evil, soulless creatures that could be burned by anything consecrated or holy. I’ve never seen them hanging out near any churches, so that was enough evidence for me. I wasn’t too big on questioning things. If it was a tried and true method, I would incorporate it in my nightly practice.

  He leaned forward, his retractable fangs exposed, only a centimeter away from the bare skin on my neck. My heart beat faster, not with fear, but with anticipation of the kill. He moved in with his lips peeled back.

  Okay, time’s up. My patience was officially spent.

  “No? Well, if that won’t work how about this?” I said, as I spun in one smooth motion, easily maneuvering out of his weak grip on me. I didn’t think he was expecting much fight out of me. As I turned to face him, I pulled the spike from my jacket and thrust it into his chest, jamming it up under his ribcage where it pierced its target. I loved having the advantage of the surprise attack. Besides the loose grip he had on me, one last look in his jet black eyes and the shocked expression on his gaunt face told me he really wasn’t expecting any trouble out of me. A moment later, he was a ball of flames that instantly turned into a shadowy silhouette of a human-like figure made of ash. There was a rapidly-dimini
shing scent of sulfur when I sensed my next attacker.

  He was approaching from behind, quickly. And instantaneously, I sensed a third coming from the top of the nearest six-story building to my left. Using the same railroad spike, I spun using the force from the rapid twist of my body to fling the spike in the direction of the second attacker’s heart. It only took a millisecond for my super senses to pinpoint his heart and release the spike at the perfect angle. I didn’t have to watch to know it was a bullseye because I never missed. That wasn’t bragging, just bitterness. I was the perfect killing machine.

  Before returning to my one-woman pity party, I turned back toward the building and stepped to the right, just in time to dodge the third assailant as he leapt down toward me. He didn’t have a chance to right himself. I landed a roundhouse kick to his jaw that had enough force to easily shatter human bones like the old single-pane windows in my shoddy apartment. I had to give it to this one; he had a little more fight in him than the others. Of course, I no longer had the element of surprise working for me.

  He landed a punch just below my eyebrow. I staggered back but was still on the offense. My elbow connected with his temple, and I slammed my foot into his stomach with enough power to make him hunch and curl in on himself. I grabbed the collar of his jacket while his head was lowered and pulled his face forward as I rammed my knee into it. His brief incapacitation gave me enough time to reach the extra spike tucked into my right boot that was concealed under the leg of my jeans. It was always good to bring a spare, or two. He started to throw a right hook but swung just a little wide leaving his heart open for the staking. Easy target.

  It appeared that would be all for tonight. There was only about a half an hour before the sun would rise and they wouldn’t risk the exposure. Now that the action was over, my heart rate slowed back down to its normal beat. The atmosphere settled into a calm once again, and I was able to allow my focus to wander back to my surroundings. My attention was usually devoted to the hunt when I patrolled, so I didn’t always notice anything else going on around me. But something was grabbing and yanking at my attention now.

  There was an eerie sort of silence. Well, okay, all silence was eerie to me because it seemed to reflect my life, mirroring it in all of its loneliness and solitude.

  Before the melancholy completely set in, I switched my iPod back on and focused more on the sights that couldn’t capture my attention earlier. I gazed at the streetscape and noticed I was standing in a wide corridor of early twentieth-century brick buildings evenly spotted with rectangular windows all the way up the façade. Once my eyes reached the tops of the buildings I noticed some had arched windows and were capped by a large crown-molding ledge. Turning south off Washington Avenue I began my long walk back toward my apartment down by the railroad tracks. I could easily run it in less than half the time, but I needed to wind down.

  Normally, those bastards came out earlier, but there weren’t as many people out late on Sunday nights. Those three were probably just waiting for the early Monday morning work crowd, which was beginning to pick up a little more at the moment. I’ve seen that happen before. Other than those three, tonight was a little slow.

  I strolled through Laclede’s Landing on the way back. The Landing always made me feel like I’ve stepped back in time. The streets were made of cobblestone, and the street lamps were fashioned like old gas-lit lanterns with wrought-iron posts. It made for a popular hangout spot in downtown St. Louis, especially at night with all its bars and clubs.

  The sidewalks were still fairly clear for the moment. Most people were just buzzing by in cars, but around lunch time all the little restaurants and cafes that lined these streets would be full. Outdoor seating was available in some, but it was beginning to get colder with the approach of the chilly October weather so most people won’t risk freezing their asses off on the patios. Every once-in-a-while October will hold a few unseasonably warm days, so these streets may come to life again a few more times before dying off in the cold winter months.

  I happened to have a very high tolerance for cold and various other forms of discomfort and pain, so being outside during those winter months doesn’t bother me like it would everyone else. It was yet another reminder of how well I fit into this dark world I seemed to have been sucked into since I can remember. It’s like I was born into this world, or should I say nightmare, and for some unknown reasons I am drawn to it, which was a little strange considering I was born on June 22, the summer solstice. It felt a little like some sick cosmic joke that I would be born on the day with the most amount of sunshine out of the entire year and then grow into a creature of the night.

  As the sun started to rise, rich colors began to bleed into the once dull, washed-out colors of the dim pre-dawn light. It casted early-morning shadows across the city as I walked up the narrow, pot-hole spotted street with run-down discount shops and apartment buildings. My apartment building was toward the end of the dead-end road, running parallel with and 30 yards from the tracks. There are a few abandoned properties toward the end of the road that have been run down over the years due to lack of upkeep. These ruins appeared to have been old office buildings. It must have become difficult to lease these types of properties with the close proximity to the tracks.

  My apartment could have made the vacancy list if it weren’t for the few of us that didn’t mind loud rumbling trains and loved the added bonus of the lower rent that came along with that. When I moved in about a year ago, it was all I could afford as an eighteen-year-old fresh out of the foster care system. I used part of the money I received from my parents’ life insurance policies, but I don’t like to use it unless I really need it so I got a job right after moving in.

  The apartment building itself reminded me of a two-story motel, except the exterior was composed of a dark brown brick instead of the typical cheap siding with tacky colors found on motels. There was even a catwalk on the second story that allowed for outside entrance into the individual units.

  I took the stairs to the catwalk two at a time and headed down the metal grate to my corner one-bedroom unit. Inside, I stepped on the heels of my carpenter boots, pulling my feet out of them, and kicked them off to the side by the door. One hit the wall with a thud and sent yet another chip of peeling white paint down to the dingy multi-colored carpet. I yanked off my iPod, old holey jeans and shrugged out of my black leather jacket exposing the tattered t-shirt underneath before closing the blinds of the window by the door. I crossed the now dim-lit, sparsely furnished main room and tossed my apartment key onto the breakfast bar opposite my kitchenette that served as my dining table most nights. I turned down the hall that splits the apartment in half. The first door on the left is the bathroom that connects to my bedroom, which I use as my main path of entrance instead of the door at the end of the hallway.

  I caught my reflection in the shower door as I passed and saw the usual dark circles under my bright green eyes and absolutely no signs of the punches I took about an hour earlier, but that was nothing new. I was a fast healer, abnormally fast. The only sign of fighting was my tussled dark brown ponytail that managed to work its way into more of a loose ‘80s-style side ponytail. I pulled the hair tie out letting what was left of the up-do fall down past my shoulders in crinkled dark waves and made my way to my bed.

  The exhaustion finally took hold of me, and the rusted metal bed frame moaned as I plopped face first into the thread-bare blankets and flat pillows. The last thing that registered before succumbing to sleep was a strange feeling of being watched when I knew the blinds were already closed.

  †

  I awoke to the mid-afternoon light streaming in from the window on the west wall just above and to the right of my bed. It felt like I was still in the recurring dream I was having. Every once in a while, I would dream about a bright white light that blinds me. When I first started having this dream, it felt so real I would wake up expecting to find someone holding a flashlight to my eyes, but the light would then vanis
h with the dream. The strange part was that the light was burned into my retinas as if I did see it. It wasn’t like normal light that left spots burned into my vision, but instead, it left colors so vivid burned into my sight, I questioned my sanity, or sobriety. Everything would look so colorful and brilliant, I thought I was hallucinating, but then it would fade back into normal vision.

  Lifting my face off the pillow, I slit my eyes and tilted my head up toward the light, noticing the blinds were partially open. Damn. I forgot about that window. But the blinds on the other window were definitely closed. Before I could stop it, my eyes automatically went to the other window. Yes, those blinds were definitely closed. There was no catwalk outside of my bedroom, but vampires had their ways with height challenges. That could explain the whole being watched feeling but not the being watched after sunrise part. I made a mental note to check out the vacant office building right outside the window with the cracked blinds.

  Slowly, I pushed myself up off the bed and did a backward crawl until my feet reached the edge of the bed. I slid off the rest of the way standing up to stretch my stiff muscles. For some reason, I always felt extremely drained after patrolling. I guessed it was all the fighting, but my body was always so strong and energized during a fight.

  †

  After showering, I investigated the old office building next door and found no sign of squatters, neither human nor… non-human. It must have just been my exhaustion getting the best of me this morning when I sensed someone watching me. Great, now I had an imaginary peeping Tom.

  I walked the eight blocks up to the new-and-used music shop where I’ve worked for over a year now. I approached the red brick building and saw the neon open sign shining in the dark green framed picture window next to the big oak door with a matching dark green awning. There was frosted lettering adhered to the window reading “Music Lovers Only.”