DARKLING : BOOK ONE

RED

Ciprian lay in the earth, his body beginning to come alive. First it was his heart. Searing pain flowing through, sending blood to the vital organs. Muscles that hadn’t been used in over a century began to throb. With a single thought, the earth above him opened. He finally took a breath. Every cell in his body was screaming at him. He didn’t want to be awake. He didn’t want to open his eyes. He reached for his brother Valor’s mind several times and saw he was still safe underground.

So, what had woken him?

He had NEVER had his body wake on its own. He had no idea exactly how long he had been underground. He had chosen some time ago to rest rather than meet the sun and end his time on the earth. He went to the ground in the way of his people. Opening the earth with a wave of his hand, floating his body into what would appear as a grave to humans, shutting every organ down other than his mind to allow the ground to close and set final safeguards in place. His final thoughts were of red hair blowing in the night wind, a pale white flesh glowing in the dark, looking back over her shoulder at him. Then he shut down his mind and became like a dead thing.

He had spent many lifetimes trying to find her. He held onto that vision of her each time he got too close to turning. And now, he was closer than ever. One more kill and he could not undo what creature he would become. He was sure there were no other beings that could end his power short of the Creator, if he turned.

As his kind aged without mates, their human senses waned. They would depend solely on their power as shifters to exist. Most used the way of snakes, some bats and other creatures to see without eyes. But when feeding, they can see through their prey’s eyes. See themselves. They were forbidden to kill any humans. He was a Darkling. A Nephilim Shifter. Born of a clan known to descend from the love of a Daughter of Eve and an Angel. But as with all the species of Darklings, they ALL had to feed on the source of life of others. Blood. They all had to hide from the light. Only evil Darklings dare to feast on a human without spellbinding with enchantments or hypnotizing. This would mostly be made up of some Demons, Fear Eaters, Dark Fathers, or some Vampires. It was engraved into their souls that they were to en-trance their human prey before feeding, to keep the human from feeling any fear. Once one had fed on a fear-filled human, the addiction to the adrenaline-laced fear was immediate. Worse than heroin for a human. The older they were, the more Darklings they killed to protect humans and their own, the closer to losing themselves they became. The little that kept them bound to humans they lost over time. Slowly becoming true animals with no souls. They would gain back their vision but it would be foul and they had to feed constantly. Insatiable monsters. In his time, Ciprian watched as some Shifters turned Fear Eaters, would live in nests almost like the coven of a natural born Vamp. They would gather and consume entire villages in a night. The older, the hungrier. Nothing matters but blood. At least the Vampires had their good and bad. Some lived on donations and gave up feeding from a source. But his kind could not.

Now he was well over 1000 years old. Most didn’t make it this long without a mate or turning. He had to. For her. He couldn’t stand the thought of leaving her to suffer. He had chosen to sleep instead of ending his life. They could bury themselves for long periods of time in the earth to keep from turning. Some already mated would go to ground together for long periods, and then wake up in new eras. He had gone to ground with no idea of when he would wake. He put his faith in the Creator this round. Each time he put a waking sigil over his resting spot, he woke to more death and no red angel. He had never slept this long.

Sensing no intruders or danger, Ciprian opened his eyes. Something was different. The black cave wall danced with a shimmer; He floated out of the grave, his lungs still burning. The wet earth and damp cave filled his senses. He welcomed the smells of the ocean rolling down the corridor of the cave. He continued down the path, never touching his feet, to the earth. His long, straight, white hair was flowing down to his bare chest. He had several slender ropes of woven dreads that hung lower than his loose hair. Each one was braided with a golden string made from the hair of angels, and then coated in the spit and blood of those he defeated in near-death fights. Tucked at the center of each dread was a charm meant for his use alone. This was something the Castlings taught him to assist him in his war against Fear Eaters and other evils. Especially Demons.

He had spent a millennium at the least, learning, hunting, and killing. So many close calls. His body showed them all. Most wounds healed with the way of his people, leaving no scars. But scars caused by Shadow Magic, Demons, Angels, or a Castling, always cause scars that are seared in color, depending on the method used. His naked body was marked in black, red, and silver scars. Some slashes, others small and wisp like. His face had a thin line going across the left side of his full mouth, down his chin, midway to his neck. An Angel got him unexpectedly when he entered a secure portal to a realm. One in which the Angels had decided was for themselves alone. He was lucky. There were many small black dash like markings from his right eyebrow up to his white hair line. He hated looking at his face through other people’s eyes. The shadow magic of a Demon had gotten him in a fight to the death. The Demon had used every ounce of his life force at the end to explode his existence like a massive bomb. Ciprian had been able to shift out of his natural form into mist, but not before some of the evil energy scattered across him mid-shift. His right shoulder and upper right chest were marked the same. He glanced down at his nakedness, observing the markings across his body. Seeing that the silvery marks were reflected in the moonlight. His muscles were aching with dehydration. He had to feed. And soon. Ciprian let his bare feet touch the dirt floor at the open mouth of the cave. Savoring the feel of the grains beneath his feet.

The breeze from the black wild waters below rolled through his hair and across his hard body. It felt so good. He stood there, taking in this beautiful night. He couldn’t remember feeling anything like this before he went to slumber. He couldn’t recall feeling at all! Glimpses of the red-haired vision flooded his mind as the breeze danced over his chest, his long hair brushing against his sensitive skin. Wonder filled him. What would it be like to have her? Would her breath be like the wind on his flesh? Pictures of her mouth on his, her pale skin against his own flashed in his head; her red hair teasing his skin as she mounted him. He had never thought of another woman like this. He smiled to himself.

His eyes sought the source of the sounds singing in his ears and noticed the black water crashing into itself. He loved the sensations, the smells. He felt so alive. So awake. Aroused. Alert. The mouth of the cave was tucked into the cliffs. From the angle of the opening, humans had forgotten it. But not the animals. A few bats burst into the night sky just over his head. He considered for a moment, leaping into the air and flying with them. That is when he saw it.

It had to be the most beautiful thing he had ever seen since he was a young Darkling. A vibrant red little fishing boat was out on the water fighting the waves. It was so bright. His Darkling eyes allowed him to see as well in the dark as humans in daylight. This little red boat was the answer he needed. Since his first year of killings, Ciprian had not been able to see, hear, smell or feel as humans do unless he was feeding. Those senses were not his own. Everything appealing about life was gone from him. Now, at the mouth of a cave, in an era he had no knowledge of, he had gained back everything he had lost. He knew now why he had woken. His soul had roused him. His soulmate was near.

With that thought, Ciprian Kristenssen leapt into the air, shifting as he did.

(To Be Continued...)