AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter 1
Two horrified girls’ screams penetrated the thick fog that cloaked Dallas early that spring morning, catching Levka's attention. His blood hot with anger, he wanted to right a wrong in the worst way. In the distance, the faint sound of beating drums resonated from one of the local bars in the otherwise deserted warehouse district.
In warning, Arman touched Levka’s shoulder. “The elders forbid us to interfere in the mortals’ affairs.”
Levka glared at his lifelong friend. “Since when have we gone strictly by the league’s rules?”
“The last time we got involved, they said they’d punish us severely—maybe even banish us from the city—despite our royal ties. There has even been talk of terminating those of us who cause any more trouble.”
“Then we won’t let them know, will we?”
Arman scanned the dimly lit brick factories shrouded in the ghostly wet mist like a fuzzy gray blanket. “Stasio says they’re keeping a closer eye on us now.”
“Let the league watch and do nothing to help these people then. Punish me if they have to, but after my sister and parents were murdered, and I did nothing to prevent it—”
“You couldn’t have prevented it, as young as you were. Besides, that was over nine-hundred years ago.”
“I have a good memory.”
“And you hassle Stasio for living in the past.”
Levka ignored his friend’s jibe. He knew the girls had gotten themselves into the predicament all on their own without any help from anyone else. Like the league said, mortals had to deal with their own difficulties if they were to grow and flourish. Still, the girls’ sobs tore at his soul, the same mournful wailing he couldn’t vanquish from his mind when his mother and older sister had pleaded for their lives so many centuries ago. Yet the girls screaming made it seem like yesterday.
The league be damned.
Levka vanished and reappeared in the vicinity of the screams, where more factory warehouses stood idle at two in the morning, except for a dingy club hidden from sight, two blocks away.
Four male teens dressed in jeans and grungy jackets—all appearing about the same age as Levka—threatened two girls with knives. “Take off your clothes or we’ll cut them off,” the heaviest-set of the boys growled, his fat cheeks flaming red, and his beady eyes narrowed.
Teary-eyed, one of the girls unzipped her jacket while the other unbuttoned her coat, their fingers shaking.
“Please…,” the girl in the zippered jacket said, her mascara dripping down her face in black rivulets, her gaudy crimson lips quivering.
Levka stepped out of the fog, appearing just a few feet away from the thugs. “Can I join the party?”
Instantly, all eyes were upon him.
“Where did you come from?” a lanky kid with curly black hair asked, waving a ten-inch blade in Levka’s direction.
“It’s a private party,” the biggest guy said, threatening Levka with his knife. “Get lost unless you want us to carve you a new face.”
“Such bravado from ones so young.” Levka clapped his hands together slowly in mock appreciation.
The big guy’s face turned redder. “Let’s teach this bastard a lesson.”
Levka gave him a small smile and a slight bow of his head. “Teach me all you know.”
Before anyone moved, Levka’s three friends strolled out of the mist like Gothic specters, all dressed in black jeans, all wearing black ankle-length coats, and demonic smiles. Ruric, the curly redhead of the bunch, who Levka swore looked like a Viking warrior, waved his arms in a martial arts-like dance, pretending to yield two light sabers and said, “Let the force be with you, my friends.”
Arman shook his head, his dark brown hair sweeping across his shoulders, his brown eyes nearly black. “We really shouldn’t get involved, Levka. I feel it in my blood. We’ll be in the worst kind of trouble this time.”
Stasio pulled his long sandy blond hair into a tail. “I don’t like the odds. Fighting the Marcher Barons along our borders in Wales was much more to my liking.”
Levka gave him a warning look, not that it ever did any good. Stasio never seemed able to keep up with the changing centuries.
“How scary. A bunch of long-haired Goths, who don’t know when to mind their own business!” the leader of the bullies shouted. “Let me add a little blood to your costumes to make you really look creepy.”
“Certainly,” Stasio said, his voice dark and menacing, his stockier build readied for a fight. “We could always use a little extra blood.”
