Broken Faith: Spiritual Discord, 1

by Brandy Nacole

  “It was late in the night when the barn door creaked open. I knew someone was in there with me I just couldn’t make out who. I called out but no one answered me. Finally, a man stepped into view. I knew he was dangerous. His eyes blazed a lethal red and he had fangs that extended past his lower lip.

  “I tried pleading with the monster, begging him to spare me. He said, ‘You are a pretty little thing. I haven’t had such fine company in quite some time.’ The monster didn’t tell me his name at the time but he did take advantage of me−in more ways than one. I remember that I never screamed or whimpered but instead I silently prayed for God to save my family because I knew I would never make it back to them, especially when he sunk his teeth deep in my throat.”

  I pull my shirt aside to show Kayson the neck wound left by my Sire.

  “I thought for sure I was dead. He pulled away from me and smiled. His mouth, teeth, and chin were covered with my blood. Then he said, ‘You are too precious to waste my dear. I’m afraid my master will have to deal with another creation, damn the consequences.’ I didn’t know what he meant by that at the time but I soon found out. He left me in that barn and returned to the house. I lay there, holding my neck, half in and out of consciousness, and waited for death to take me. I had no idea of what I was becoming, and didn’t understand that death might have been better.

  “The old couple came out of the house the next morning and prepared a grave for my body. When they came to retrieve me, they were shocked to find me still alive. I begged and pleaded for them to help me. They just stumbled away in fear and returned to their house. That night as the darkness of the night fell over the land my mystery monster came back to me. He told me what I was, and forced me to drink his blood. The instant his blood hit my tongue, my body started to burn. I could feel my soul being eaten away as the infection of his disease destroyed it.

  “I lay in that barn for days, whimpering for someone to help me but no one came. Once my transformation was complete, I felt only the need to quench my insatiable thirst. My Sire, Malach whose name whispered through my mind, brought me the one thing that would stop the burning, a human.”

  I close my eyes, feeling ashamed, as the humans screams and terrified pleas echo through my mind.

  “Sabrina.” Kayson’s questioning tone drowns out the screams. “It’s okay.”

  I give Kayson a sad smile before I continue. “Once I finished draining her dry, he told me what my new purpose for living was. I learned about the demons that scoured the lands to bring sin upon the earth, and the angels that fought them. He told me that I was a new inflictor and that I would lead people down the path of sin, to please the master who had created all of us. I despised him for doing this to me and pleaded with him to turn me back. He mocked what he called my weakness, calling me foolish. He said my human life was over, and no longer existed.

  “When I lashed out at him, he only laughed that much harder, dodging my attacks with ease. I ran away from him that night and back to my family. It took me a week to return to my home. I kept getting confused and disoriented with my surroundings and could only think of the blood that pulsated through the air. I killed innocent people along the way to sustain my own life and to quench the pain that would consume my body.

  “When I finally arrived home, I found that I was too late. The sickness that had inflicted my family had overcome them all. I buried them out behind our house and headed out to start a new life. That’s when Malach came to find me. He followed me around for weeks, watching me. He never appeared until the new law was created. Even then, he only made an appearance to warn me. He never once apologized for what he did to me or explained why he did it.”

  I pause, my voice cracking. I still didn’t understand why Malach had chosen me. I never understood why he just didn’t let me die. He didn’t care to explain it to me. This is the first time I’ve ever spoken about my experience of becoming a vampire. It is strange, yet relieving at the same time. I have wanted someone to hear my story for so long, to care that my life was stolen from me. I could tell from the sorrow-filled expression on Kayson’s face that he was listening and felt some sort of remorse for me.

  “Whatever happened to Malach?” Kayson asks.

  I shake my head, “I’m not sure. I heard the hounds got him.”

  “The night he told you about the new law, is that when you went into hiding?”

  “No,” I swallow hard. “I should have, I just couldn’t believe it. Why would our master create a new species to wipe us out? Why did he take the time to create vampires, werewolves, banshees, and so on, if he was just going to destroy us? I had no way of communicating directly with Lucifer since I was not created directly of his blood, so I didn’t believe the stories.” I look at Kayson with tears in my eyes. “But then I saw one. That’s when I started running.”

  Kayson’s quiet for a moment. He’s staring at me with sadness in his eyes. Then he softly says, “I’m sorry you had to endure that. The hounds are ruthless.”

  I nod in agreement, thinking back to the werewolf I once witnessed getting torn to pieces by five hell hounds. They had played with the werewolf like a toy before finally ending his life by tearing out his throat.

  Kayson clears his throat. “We understood why Lucifer did it and were thankful for it at first. When he decreed the law to kill the blood children, we were overjoyed. That is until the hell hounds surfaced. They are more ruthless than all the blood children combined.” Kayson tries reaching around to prop up his pillow but winces when he does. I rush over to give him a hand propping the pillow. Then I grab him around the waist and scoot him back against the headboard.

  “That better?” I ask.

  Kayson nods, “Yes, thank you.” He gives me a contemplative look as I make my way back over to my seat, his bare chest never leaving my line of vision. “You never answered my question. Why did you help me? I know you hesitated. And we are sworn enemies.”

  “Like I said, I know what it’s like to be left behind when you’re in dire need of help. Plus, I never swore the blood oath to Lucifer. Those he created from his blood were tied to the oath, but those who were created from the blood children were not. They have a separate blood oath, swearing allegiance to Lucifer from the originals.” No matter how evil Malach made me believe I was, I knew I would have never sworn an oath to Lucifer. I would rather have died than to be tied to such evil. “I don’t have the same kill-you-on-the-spot instinct as the others because of this. I hesitated because you’re like a beacon in a starless night. The hounds can find me through you.”

  “I know. And I’m sorry for that.” Kayson looks up at the ceiling with sadness in his eyes. “I did not know anything about the oaths. The angels never knew the inside details of the night children or the hell hounds. We only knew of the basic facts.” Kayson looks up at the ceiling as if he’s looking through it and up to Heaven to ask why they weren’t told more.

  “I learned a long time ago that I have a choice. I chose to run and stay hidden, living off animal blood−which they lied about and said would not sustain me. It has for a hundred years now. I know my soul is corrupted, thanks to Malach, but as long as I control my life, I can control my fate.” I have repeated the same speech to myself every day for the last hundred years, and I will continue to do so until the final blow of death takes me under.

  Kayson looks at me with adoration in his eyes. “You are a brave soul, Sabrina. Who knows of the fate held over your soul.”

  Feeling a little uncomfortable, I let out a strained laugh. “I’m pretty sure my soul has already been written in fate’s hand book as damned.”

  “You never know.” Kayson says this like he truly believes it. How could he? I know he was taught otherwise, so why would he try to fill me with false hope?

  Wanting to bring the attention away from my soul, I focus on Kayson. It’s his turn to spill his life story. “So what happened to you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  I make a clipping motion wi
th my fingers. “Why did you lose your wings?”

  Kayson turns away to look at the painting on the wall again. The one that I find so depressing but which seems so fascinating to him.

  “I lost my faith.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Kayson shakes his head, “It’s getting late. How about we get some sleep?” I know he’s being evasive and it kind of irritates me, considering I just spilled my whole life story. It isn’t fair of him to ask me such a personal question without giving a little bit of his in return. I start to push him on the topic, but stop myself. Maybe he doesn’t deem me worthy enough to hear his story.

  With reluctance, I dismiss my question. “Okay. You go ahead and get some sleep. I’m going to go scout for another place to stay. Who knows when the owners of the house will be back.”

  Kayson’s expression is filled with worry. “Please don’t go. There’s only a few hours of night left anyway.”

  I start to argue again but he has a point. What if I didn’t make it back in time? That would leave him unprotected for too long. We don’t know what the hounds have planned. They have to know I am here with him. My scent is everywhere. They may be waiting for daylight to attack. If that happens, and I’m not back from my search, Kayson would be left defenseless. I nod my head with agreement and help him lie back down. I retrieve a blanket from the foot of the bed to cover him with. A part of me thinks it’s a shame I have to cover such beauty.

  Kayson’s intense blue eyes meet mine. His black hair sticks up in an unruly mess. “Thanks again, Sabrina.”

  I give him a small smile. “You’re welcome.”

  Before I walk away, Kayson makes another request. “Can you put one of the jugs of water in the refrigerator? That way we have cool water to drink.”

  I look at him puzzled. “The what?”

  “The refrigerator. The fridge,” he says, pointing to the cold box.

  “Frid-ge?” I sound out the foreign word, not quite understanding its meaning.

  Kayson chuckles and shakes his head. “Like…an ice box. It keeps things cool so they don’t spoil or so they can stay cold. What did you think it was?”

  “I wasn’t sure. I knew it was cold but I didn’t know why.” I look at the fridge, unsure how that tiny box could keep things from spoiling.

  Kayson laughs again as I open the door and set the water jug inside. I roll my eyes at him and make myself comfortable in the plush chair in the corner. I lay there listening as Kayson slowly drifts off to sleep. I am still hurt that he wouldn’t confide in me over his fall from Heaven. But maybe I shouldn’t pry. I didn’t know how long it has been since he fell, and the wound may still be fresh.

  I lay there looking at the painting of the lone figure beside my chair. Whoever drew the pieces that hang on the walls was talented. I just can’t figure out why amongst all these pictures, why the person picked this one. I’ve never been much on understanding art, or what it was supposed to reveal. Kayson seemed to appreciate it. He kept looking at the picture like he could relate to the sorrow it expressed.

  I still don’t know how I am going to work out the details of leaving him somewhere while I continue on north. As much as I hate to leave him, I have to. Kayson’s soul isn’t on the line, mine is. Fallen angels aren’t condemned to Hell. If they die their souls go to purgatory with all the human souls who have sinned but still hold goodness within them. They would one day get to live in the splendors of Heaven once they paid for the sins they committed.

  I wasn’t so lucky. If I die, there’s no purgatory for me. My soul will forever be locked in Hell, to live a tormented life. I will never see the wonders of Heaven or my family again. For me there are no options, I simply have to keep running to stay free.

  Chapter Five

  Emma

  “Yes mom, I’m on my way over there now.”

  I roll my eyes for the umpteenth time as my mom questions me yet again. She has been riding me for days to go water her stupid plants. If she is that worried about them, she could have bought some watering globes. Then she would know they weren’t on the verge of dying. Did she not realize I had more important things to do than look after her precious plants?

  “Okay, honey. Has the temperature dropped much since we left?”

  “It’s starting to get chiller.” Why did she insist I download that weather app on her phone if she’s not going to use it?

  “If the temperature drops below forty please take my plants in the house. I don’t want them to be ruined.”

  I growl inwardly. She is driving me crazy.

  “Okay mom, I will. When will you guys be back?” I already know the answer but I was hoping it has changed. Maybe to tomorrow? Then she could take care of her own plants.

  “Honey, I told you, we’ll be back in two weeks. Your father says it may be longer, but the schedule is still the same. You know how that goes.”

  I know all too well how my father’s schedule works when it comes down to narrowing down his return home. He is a tech for nuclear plants and can be gone for weeks or months. Dad’s supervisors never have been good at sticking to a schedule. Staying on the job to make more money is their main priority. It’s typical for them to drag out meetings and analyze every aspect of the job before actually getting the work done. That’s probably why the divorce rate for most of dad’s co-workers is high. Their families probably get tired of their constant absence. It had been a struggle for our family. I used to hate when dad would call to tell us it would be a few more days before he returned home. Usually it was because the plant officials put the job on hold for this or that reason. No doubt from dad’s supervisors scheduling another pointless meeting, or another problem with the equipment. I hated those phone calls, but now I’ve grown accustomed to them.

  “You know I can’t be coming over here all the time, mom. School just started back and my new classes are pretty tough. Plus, I do have a job now.” One I wasn’t proud of, but hey, it put gas in my car and food in my belly. Couldn’t complain about that.

  “I know but do try to go over to the house when you can. I wish your brother−”

  “No, mom, don’t even go there.” Another thing I dislike is her bringing up my brother. That is a line she should have known better than to cross with me.

  “I’m sorry, honey. And I’m sorry I put you in this predicament. Maybe I shouldn’t go with your father.” I could hear the sadness in her voice over the thought.

  “Mom, quit being so dramatic. I’m glad you’re going with dad now. It’s good for both of you. And I promise to make an effort to take care of things while you’re gone. Okay?” I shouldn’t be a pain over the plants. If there is one thing my parents deserve, it’s quality time together. They have spent the last twenty years being apart more than they’ve been together. It was time they lived their life together as a happy couple. Plus, after the crap our family went through this last year because of my low-life brother, everyone deserves a break. I was just waiting for Christmas break for mine.

  “I love you, Emma.”

  “Love you too, mom. I’m almost there. I’ll call you later with an update.”

  “Thanks honey.”

  I hang up the phone and brush away the memories of my brother that came to mind when my mother mentioned him. Just the thought of how he betrayed his family makes me want to scream. I have more important things to worry about, like my new class schedule.

  When senior year came to a close and college drew closer, a job was the last thing on my mind. I had a savings account with enough money to last me for a while. Then my brother came along and wiped me out, leaving me broke, with no options. I had to find a full time job to cover my bills, and now it was conflicting with my classes. School officials said they would look into re-arranging my classes around my work schedule but so far I haven’t heard anything. They seem to drag their feet when it came to issues that don’t involve school improvement. My schedule was probably the last thing on their mind. I am just going to have to keep
reminding them until they learn I’m a pest they need to deal with.

  The power steering on my Honda Accord whines as I pull into the driveway. The greasy snag-toothed mechanic said everything was fine, but I’m thinking otherwise. I filled the pump up just yesterday so it has to have a leak somewhere. Maybe I will have to give Briston a call to take a look at it. Briston is an okay mechanic and I know he will give it his best effort. He’s been watching out for me since we were little. If it hadn’t been for Briston, I don’t know that I would have made it through the end of my senior year or even applied for college. He has always been there for me, always able to lend me a helping hand.

  I get out of the Honda and survey the place. Everything seems in order, which is to be expected. Sterling Hollow is a nice little town nestled in the foothills of the Uinta-Wasatch-Cache National Forest, where bad things never happen and everyone knows each other. I think the most action the police ever see is from rowdy teenagers on the weekend. Even then it’s only speeding tickets or orders to turn down the ‘loud racket,’ as the police like to refer to the choice of music blaring out of the speakers.

  As I walk up the steps, I sift through my keys to find the right one. My father is a paranoid fellow at times and keeps locks on everything from the front door to the shed out back. They live in a quiet neighborhood and trust their neighbors, but he’d tell us we could never know when a stranger might pass by and pick our house to burglarize. Sure, I’d think. But the shed? Sure, thugs were notorious for cruising the countryside, breaking into sheds to steal shovels and garden racks. I chuckle a little at my sarcastic thoughts. I love my parents, even in the crazy times.