by Mia Hawkins
THE ONLY ESSENCE
The White Dragon: Book One
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Mia Hawkins
COPYRIGHT
The Only Essence © 2019 Mia Hawkins
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Chapter 1
Rayven
The only sounds that penetrate the night air are the heavy footfalls of the man who has been tailing me for the last three blocks. I would think if you’re going to follow someone, you could at least do it quietly. Between his trudging along the sidewalk and his loud breathing, I would have to be really distracted to not know he was there. Then again, maybe that is what he is expecting when he sees a young woman around here. I should be as carefree as everyone else in this small town, but I’m not. I have been hunted for the past four years, and I don’t know why. One of my biggest rules in situations like these is to always let them underestimate you. Nothing feels better than when people like this gorilla of a man behind me think that I’m going to be an easy target. Surprise, buddy, I will never be a damsel in distress.
I hurry and duck left into a narrow alley and flatten myself against the far wall. I know no one will be down here, especially this late at night. I’ve had a long day, and I’m ready to go home and give my pillows the best hug they have ever gotten. No time like the present to end this guy’s ruck march he has going on. I mean seriously, what is his deal? Did they run out of all the good little pointy eared soldiers, and this guy was the only one left behind? “Get your head in the game, Rayven,” I mumble to myself. While I was distracted, thinking about how he made the cut to be my tag along, I didn’t even notice that his steps were gone. I focus my energy on trying to hear him, but I don’t hear him walking past the alley, so where in the world did he go?
I put more energy into my hearing, and I can faintly make out a heartbeat, but it sounds like it is above me. I move away from the wall and look up just in time to see him hurtle himself off the wall of the building I was just leaning on, landing at the alley entrance. What in the actual fuck is happening here; did he suddenly turn into a damn spider monkey? I will have to add that to the small pile of information I have on these people. I gave up a long time ago trying to figure out what these guys were and what they wanted. Tonight, I just want to get home, and he is the only thing standing in my way. “Looks like you took a wrong turn, pretty girl,” the man says with a sneer on his face.
He’s looking at me like I am his next meal. As he stalks closer, I take a second to get a good look at him. His face is made up of hard edges, and he has a nasty looking scar running down his cheek. This guy is so huge I can make out the definition of each of his muscles, even in the low lights in the alley. Unfortunately, I am pretty sure he is not following me around, being a creeper, because he wants to be BFFs.
As he closes in, he looks me up and down with an expression I know all too well. He thinks that he already has me beat; jokes on him. He has no idea who he just followed into the alley, but I can guarantee that he won’t be leaving this alley with me. Just a couple more steps. I have to remind myself not to jump the gun. Even though I want to get home, I don’t want to rush this. If he is willing to talk, I need some answers.
I can feel the adrenaline that comes right before a fight flood my body. I don’t know if everyone feels this way, but everything seems like it is almost in slow motion. I become relaxed, focused and my body moves like a well-oiled machine. That is exactly why he doesn’t see my foot heading for his face until it’s connecting with his cheek. He recovers fast; I’ll give him that. He swings his meaty fists one after the other, but they’re all sloppy, and I easily dodge them.
That’s another reason I think this guy was last pick: usually they are much better fighters. I continue to block his attacks and keep him moving; the more he wears himself out, the easier my job will be. You can tell he is getting frustrated. Besides my kick to the face, I haven’t tried to touch him. No, right now, I’m going to try to get some answers. He already talked more than they normally do.
I put some space between us and, even though I know he probably won’t answer me, I ask, “Who are you?” As I expect, he just ignores my question and tries to charge at me. Too bad for him, his huge frame didn’t allow him to move fast enough. I guess talk time is over, so I use his momentum to my advantage. I grab his outstretched arm and pull him into the wall behind us, smashing his face into the stone. As he tries to pull away from the wall, I hop on his back. From this position, I have a much better angle to deliver each of my blows to his temple. I keep punching him even when he turns away from the wall and throws us both back into it, jarring my head from the impact. That will hurt like a bitch in the morning.
Now I’m done playing. I focus my energy into my muscles and let my fist fly. I connect easily and jump off his back as he staggers forward. Wasting no time, I grab his already bleeding face and bring it down on my knee. I jump out of the way as his nose starts gushing blood all over the place. Usually, I like to take someone down with my hands, but my head is already starting to hurt, so I know I need to end this soon. While he is grabbing for his face, I bend down and retrieve the blade I have hidden in my boot. It’s one of the few things I have had for as long as I can remember, and it has helped me out of some rough situations.
As he finally starts coming towards me again, he throws his arm out, aiming for my face. I use my speed to slip under his extended arm and slide behind him. Within seconds, my blade is flush against his neck. I apply a little pressure so he knows I am serious. “Do you want to tell me who you are now?” I ask, giving him one last chance to talk.
“Who I am makes no difference to you. Just know that he is coming for you.” I am momentarily surprised that he said anything, as usually the people after me are creepily silent. He grunts and tries to throw his head back, but I was prepared for just that.
As his head flies back, I glide my blade across his neck and step back. I am not one for blood, but if I had to choose his or mine, I would pick his any day. I walk around his body and clean my knife on his shirt. No use carrying around a dirty blade. I turn around and leave the alley and body behind me.
It’s probably best to take the long way back home, just in case someone else decides to follow me. Who was that guy talking about anyway? When they attack me, they never talk. In the past four years, I could count on one hand how many times they have spoken to me. I feel like something is changing though; they have gotten more coordinated and more brutal over the past year. Maybe I should think about moving again.
When I finally make it back to my building, my head feels like it’s going to explode. I climb the stairs two at a time until I make it to my door. Once inside, I push my energy out of my body, making sure there is no one else inside. When I am satisfied that I am alone, my body finally starts to relax.
My apartment is my pride and joy; I have worked so hard for it. I’ve been on the move almost my whole life, so being able to finally have a home means so much to me. After moving all over the country, I knew what sort of place I would finally try to settle down in, and I was very picky about where I would live. My place is a decent size with an open concept, which for me, is a must. I love having room to breathe. Since I don’t go out that often, the last thing I want to feel is cram
ped in my own apartment. Besides a couch and some chairs, it is pretty empty in here. Not that I don’t want more stuff, but I am just terrible at decorating and hate shopping.
I once got carried away and tried to redecorate the whole apartment but quickly found out I have no idea what looks good. So I just got all of the colors; my walls are a light tan color, while my blinds are ocean blue. My couch is a creamy orange with firetruck red side pillows. The poor lady at the store tried to talk me out of getting them, but they reminded me of the sunrise, so of course they had to be mine. To anyone else, it might not seem like much, but to me, my apartment is my safe place.
I decide to make my way over to the bathroom first so I can get into some comfortable clothes. As I start changing, my eyes catch on my reflection in the mirror. I have changed so much these past couple of years. I think, because I try not to look in the mirror that often, it’s easy for me to notice that I don’t look like the same quiet, shy girl I used to be in the orphanage. Being on the run is not all it is cracked up to be.
My chocolate brown hair falls to the middle of my back in unruly waves. It would probably make it easier to defend myself if I cut it, but I just can’t do it. It’s one of the only things about myself that I love. My eyes have always freaked me out and made me self-conscious. They are always changing colors; sometimes they are blue, and other times they’re brown. I swear sometimes I have seen other colors like red and gold, but I try to never look too hard at them. People always point them out and ask why they change, so I try to keep my head down as much as I can. It’s one of the many things I have on my list of stuff I will probably never know. My face looks haunted, I certainly don’t look my age, and I unfortunately think I look much older. I am not surprised to see dark bags under my eyes. I guess only getting a few hours of sleep a night does a number on your body.
My eyes catch sight of my birthmark in the mirror. On my left shoulder sits a small cluster of lines and dots running from the side of my neck to the top of my arm. They look like a constellation, and I don’t know where they came from. I must have been born with them, because I can’t think of a time when I didn’t have them. I have no clue what would cause such a weird pattern to show up. I thought about asking someone, but I’ve never really had anyone that I trusted.
Besides my birthmark, my extra energy is another thing that sets me apart. It showed up about four years ago on my sixteenth birthday and has been keeping me alive ever since. That night, my markings lit up like they were on fire; it was one of the worst nights I can remember. I had just gotten placed with a new foster family—third one is the charm, right? They were this super sweet couple in Georgia. Everything was going well until a couple days after I got to their house, and I started screaming in pain. I didn’t know what was going on, I just knew my body felt like it was burning from the inside out. It took four hours for me to finally pass out from the pain.
When I woke up, everything was so different. My birthmark was darker, I could feel this power pumping through my veins, and if I focused my energy on something, I could do things I used to not be able to. Take for example, I went from struggling to hear a conversation outside my door to being able to hear our neighbors talking in their house. That isn’t the only thing that changed. I could move faster, and I was a lot stronger than I ever used to be. I was so freaked out, but I had no one to talk to. I know if I would have said a word to my foster family, they would’ve put me in a psychiatric ward. Another cool thing, which comes in handy after a night like tonight, is that I also learned how to heal myself pretty quickly.
Speaking of which, my head feels like someone is playing it like a bass drum. With the constant throbbing, I decide to forgo my nightly run and just try to get some sleep. I can feel my energy urging me to let it heal me, so I finally let it do its job. I feel my energy search my body for all the scrapes and bruises I acquired tonight, until it finally reaches my head. It feels like a rush of cool water envelops me as the pounding finally lets up. After everything is all healed, I crawl myself to bed and hug my pillow. “Just another day in the life of Rayven Meyers,” I whisper as I snuggle into my blanket for the night.
Chapter 2
Rayven
I learned early on that life is simpler if you don’t depend on people. The minute you start letting people in is the time when it will bite you in the ass. Living the life I have makes it easy for me to never have to worry about getting too close to people. I live alone and work a night job, so no one else is there when I am. The most social interaction I get is when I go to the grocery store once a month to pick up some food. Other than that, I stay as far away from people as I can.
I had a friend once, and it ended in my heart being broken; I wouldn’t suggest it. His name was Gabriel Wilson, and we were inseparable. I met him at the first orphanage I went to when I was five. He had already been there for a couple days when I arrived. As soon as I saw him, there was just something about him that called me to him. I walked right up to him and told him he was going to be my best friend, and the rest is history.
Normally, kids get split up while a ward of the state, but it was like clockwork with us. If I got placed somewhere, within a day, he would be placed there as well. I don’t know who was watching out for us, but he was always there for me. That is until my sixteenth birthday when I received my energy. I don’t really know what else to call it; it feels weird to say magic. The foster family from Georgia only lasted four days before they deemed me unmanageable and took me back to the orphanage. I think, more than anything, it had to do with my freak out that I had when I received my energy.
Although it was another failed family, I couldn’t wait to see Gabriel again. I needed to tell him about everything that had happened to me. We told each other everything, but he was nowhere to be found. I waited days for him to come back like he always did, but it never happened. I tried to find out where he went, but no one would tell me anything. With my only friend gone, there was nothing keeping me from leaving places like the orphanage behind for good, so I left. I packed my small duffel bag and hitchhiked as far away as I could.
I made it all the way to Maryland before I decided to try to settle down. Being underage posed some problems, but in every town, there is always a sketchy bar or restaurant that will pay you under the table. So I picked up random jobs when I could and spent most of my nights under bridges or on park benches. Believe it or not, those years were some of my favorite memories. I was so close to nature, and I loved sleeping under the stars every night. That is when I am calmest, when I have my bare feet in the grass and a gentle breeze tickling my face. I was perfectly happy to stay where I was in Maryland until I was cornered in an alley by a huge guy a lot like the one from yesterday. That was the first time I had ever had to defend myself. I had no idea what to do, but luckily my body did. I was able to knock him out and get away.
When it happened a second time, I realized my life would never be easy again. I went on the run and changed towns every couple of weeks because they kept hunting me. It took three years until I finally decided I would settle down. That’s when I came across Valley Junction, and I fell in love with it. It is a quaint little town with just under five hundred people. A birthday in this town is pretty much a public affair because everyone comes to help you celebrate. Everyone except me. There were a couple people in the first few weeks who tried to welcome me into town. Thankfully, after I wasn’t very talkative, they seemed to get the hint I wanted to be left alone. I had been running for so long, but I knew that was not the life I wanted to live forever. I no longer cared about being caught or seen. No matter what I did, men like the one from the alley yesterday found me. So why not enjoy life in my own apartment instead of running all the time?
Uurrggghh, just thinking about Gabriel and my life since him, gives me a headache and makes my heart feel things I don’t want to even try to put into words. With my sudden headache, I finally have enough motivation to get out of bed and start my day.
My
apartment is designed as a two bedroom, but since I have no need for a second room, I’ve made it into a home gym. It has a treadmill, weights and a boxing bag. It’s small, but it does the job. Ever since my energy showed up, I have this insane amount of it that I just can’t seem to burn off. I found that if I skip a day in my gym, I start to get really sick. I am talking my body feels like it is ripping apart just to be put back together again, and my head feels like it will explode. It’s definitely not fun, so here I am working my body to the brink of exhaustion. I put my earbuds in and turn up the volume so I can block out the world.
Chapter 3
Chaice
“What could they possibly want?” I ask my reflection in the mirror. I just got back a couple hours ago from my last mission, and I am exhausted. The council sent word that my presence was requested, and when the council summons you, it is not a request, but an order. There are only four people on the council, and they are the oldest of each of the groups of supernaturals. People like me are not privileged enough to know their names, but I have no need to know them either. If the council summons you, it’s because you have done something to threaten revealing our existence to the norms, or people who are not supernatural. They don’t take that lightly, and more often than not, your sentence is death.
Luckily, my only dealings with them are through the clan leader, Silas. He tells me my targets, and I do the rest. My clan is one of the strongest dragon clans left. I have been trained my whole life to become a warrior, and when I turned eighteen, I was finally able to become what I was made for. I have been protecting my clan for the past five years, and I would not change a thing about it. I usually just protect our territory, but recently I have been sent all over the world to takeout rogue supernaturals, or sups, as I like to call them. No one is sure what happened. The only thing we have come up with is that they go crazy, although I am not completely convinced it is insanity. I feel there’s more to the story.
