Dark Beauty (Seeker)

by Browning, Taryn

  DARK BEAUTY

  A Seeker Series Novella

  TARYN BROWNING

  OTHER BOOKS BY TARYN BROWNING

  Dark Seeker (Seeker, #1)

  Whispering Hills

  Copyright © 2011 by Taryn Browning

  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.

  www.tarynbrowning.com

  ISBN-10: 1463757239

  ISBN-13: 978-1463757236

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, and place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Dedication

  For my wonderful husband, two beautiful boys, family & friends.

  Thank you for your ongoing support. Without you, none of this would be possible.

  Acknowledgements

  Thank you to my husband, Keith. You are my first editor and biggest supporter. I also want to thank Christine Witthohn for believing in me. Brent Taylor, for making my books sparkle, and the YA bloggers for your reviews. Thanks to my friends and critique partners, Michelle Madow and Angie Baime. Also, Catherine Van Herrin for your fantastic edits. None of this would be possible without the love and support of my parents, Ken & Sandie Hackman and Sheryl Morgan. Huge thanks to my sisters, Lauren and Kim. There are so many people who have influenced my writing. I am thankful for each and every one of you. And most of all, thanks to you for reading my book. I hope you enjoy.

  Chapter 1

  Lesson three of Seeker Training—always be prepared.

  Isabelle Crowe hid behind a dumpster. There were at least three of them. As with all Seekers, she could feel them. Her skin crawled, and the hair along her arms stood on end.

  She armed herself with her stake, her fingers gripping the wood’s smooth surface. She switched hands and ran her damp palm over her jeans. Her first kill – well, real kill. All the others had occurred during field training. Now fifteen, Isabelle could go out on her own.

  She had chosen a tank top and stretch jeans for her first night out without her mentor. With the temperature still in the high 80s, the humidity threatened to clog her lungs. Coming from the semi-arid climate of Boise City, Oklahoma, fighting in the Houston heat was going to be a challenge. She was definitely no longer in the high plains, or surrounded by her Native American ancestors. Isabelle glimpsed down at the lines of sweat on her tank and huffed. She didn’t even have to move around to break a sweat. The air itself was soggy.

  Once again, she readied herself to attack. A police car shot down the street outside the alley, followed by another. After the whirling sirens faded, she sprang out behind the dumpster and smacked right into a tall, unfamiliar guy.

  “Whoa, aren’t you being a little premature?” The guy held his strong hands out to block her forward progress. Eyeing her with the deepest blue stare, he said, “There are three of them and one of you. This is your first ‘real’ kill. Don’t you think you should work your way up?”

  “Uh, who are you again?” Isabelle raised her stake. To hell with him. She had a job to do, and she’d waited a freaking long time to go out on her own.

  He laughed. “What, are you going to stake me?” He ran his hand through his dark hair and smirked at her condescendingly.

  Screw him. By the amount of stakes shoved into the waist of his jeans, Isabelle could tell he was a Seeker. So the question was—why was he here? There was only one Seeker assigned to each city, and he had the audacity to mock her in her territory.

  “Is there a reason you’re in my city?” she said.

  “Those dark eyes of yours are so angry. Beautiful, but bitter. Isabelle, you’d think I staked your kill.” He edged her back behind the dumpster and extended his hand. “I’m Abram Mitchell, fourth-year Seeker.”

  Isabelle scowled, ignoring his gesture. “I’d say this isn’t a proper introduction, since it seems you already know my name.” She laughed. “And what, am I supposed to be intimidated by our three-year age difference?”

  “Aww, dark beauty, why so angry? It really isn’t becoming.” His arrogance and smugness was enough to make Isabelle want to hurl.

  “I’m Cherokee; we tend to have dark features,” she said.

  Abram stroked her long, black hair. “You really should tie that back when you’re seeking.”

  She swatted his hand away and held her ground. “You didn’t answer my question. Why are you in my city?”

  He shrugged. “You’re new. Your mentor thought you could use a more experienced Seeker to show you how it’s done.” He leaned forward, resting his hand on the brick building behind her, pinning her uncomfortably between him and the wall.

  “I already know how it’s done. Stake ‘em.” She slid out of the Abram wall-sandwich, preferring the hot brick to his advances.

  “Ah, you would say that. Guess you haven’t heard.”

  “Heard what?”

  “The vamps aren’t the only ones to be concerned about,” he said. “Word is Tavares, the vampire king, has been creating his own species. There aren’t many of them, but if you come across one, you’re going to need to know how to kill him.”

  She half-laughed. “You’re lying.”

  “Suit yourself, but don’t blame me when a stake through the heart doesn’t take them out.”

  “My mentor would have told me about this, not just sent some arrogant jerk to ‘show me the way,’” she said.

  “Then, I guess he didn’t tell you that they can walk in the sunlight.” He placed his back against the wall. His T-shirt was wet and clung to his muscular chest in the July heat.

  Isabelle couldn’t believe what he’d said. Vampires couldn’t go out in the sun. “What’s the real reason you’re interrupting me? I have three vamps to kill. Real vamps, not these fake vamps that probably don’t even exist.”

  He removed a stake from his waist. “Would you like some assistance?”

  “No, I’d like you to go back to whatever city you came from and leave me alone to do my job.”

  He turned, waving his arm for her to pass. “Have at it.”

  She shoved by him. “Thank you. That’s the first helpful thing you’ve done.”

  Chapter 2

  Isabelle searched the alley, but the only evidence of the vampires’ existence was a limp body slouched up against a wall. She hurried over to the guy, but it was too late. Puncture wounds on his neck and wrists indicated they’d already drained his body of blood.

  “Damn it.” She threw her stake on the ground. Her first time out by herself, and she’d been distracted.

  “He was dead before you sensed the vamps,” Abram said, sauntering up behind her.

  She swung around and said, “No! You stopped me from killing them and now he—” She pointed to the body. “He is dead!” She snatched her stake up and shoved it into her boot. Without another word, she took off down the alley, not wanting to see Abram ever again.

  Back at home, Isabelle stormed into the kitchen. Her mother jabbed at the buttons on the dishwasher and bent over, her shoulder-length black hair spilling forward. She grumbled and shoved her full weight into the plastic door. The machine started up and sputtered to a halt.

  “What’s up with the shitty dishwasher?” Isabelle said.

  Eponine shot upright, frowning. Isabelle realized she’d just cursed in front of her mother. Great, here comes the lecture.

  “Excuse me, young lady.”

  “Sorry. Bad night. What’s up with the dishwasher?”


  Her mother brushed the wisps of dark hair out of her eyes. “It’s not working. Nothing in this house works. First the AC and now the dishwasher.”

  “Well, then, it’s a good thing we only have to spend four years here.” They’d just moved to the suburbs, and they would stay there until Isabelle graduated from high school. Then they’d move to another city, she’d turn fifteen again, and start the cycle over.

  Apparently no longer angry at Isabelle’s choice of words, Eponine approached her daughter. “What happened? This was your first night in the city without Jared.”

  “Oh, yeah, great mentor Jared’s turning out to be. He sent some cocky as— er, jerk into the city to assist me. Like I can’t handle the vamps all on my own. What, does he think I’m going to suck at my job? You were a Seeker, what’s up with the backseat Seeker crap? I was supposed to be out on my own. This was my chance to show him I could handle my job. Alone.”

  Eponine took on her motherly tone. “I’ve known Jared for years. He doesn’t do things unless there’s a good reason.” She rested a loving hand on Isabelle’s shoulder. “Look, you have a few weeks before school starts. Try to work with this other Seeker, and then I’m sure he’ll be gone. Trust me. You have years left of the Seeker life. Don’t try to jump in too fast. After a while, you’ll wish you could be a ‘normal’ teenager.”

  Eponine hurried over to the desk she’d created on the countertop and fumbled around for a notepad. Her mother often retreated from their conversations to do something she’d forgotten to do earlier.

  “Mom, what are you doing?”

  Eponine fussed with her hair, scribbling on the notepad. “We’re out of spices. I’ve got to get to the market,” she sighed. “There aren’t as many of us in Houston. It was so much easier to find protection herbs in Boise. Now, I have to plan ahead.” Her hand trembled as she wrote her to-do list.

  Isabelle knew exactly what her mother was talking about – the U`tlûñ'ta, or Spear-finger: a shape shifter who could transfigure into anything she desired. She was said to be a “bloodthirsty” killer. The creature, which in true form resembled an old lady with hard, wrinkled, leather-like skin, used her long bony finger to stab people and extricate their livers. Eponine and many of their Cherokee ancestors feared the shape shifter would pay them a visit. They placed protective herbs around their homes to ward off the creature. Isabelle wasn’t so convinced the creepy lady actually existed. To her, it seemed like any other Cherokee legend.

  Placing her hand over her mother’s trembling arm, Isabelle said, “U-wo-du-hi.” Isabelle didn’t know many words in her native language, but she’d always remember that word—beautiful. She thought back to her childhood. After her father left, her mother would tell her she was beautiful in Cherokee. Somehow, it made his absence more bearable. What did she know? She was only a child.

  The next morning, Isabelle trained with Jared. They practiced in an abandoned warehouse in the city. He’d set up a mock environment to simulate “real” city life as much as possible. As Isabelle approached the run-down building, with its shattered windows and walls that had been painted so many times the peeling paint gave way to a rainbow of dreary colors, she considered telling him about Abram. Jared ran a very stringent program as a mentor to Seekers. To put it frankly, he didn’t put up with anyone’s – even Isabelle’s – shit.

  As she reached for the door, a crashing sound erupted from inside the warehouse. With Abram’s words about vampires resistant to the sun’s rays still fresh in her mind, she worried Jared could be injured, or worse. Isabelle burst into the building. Her findings were not as she had expected.

  Chapter 3

  Jared lay on top of a trash can, the silver metal crushed beneath his large body. Isabelle dropped her backpack, ready for attack. While assessing the situation, she hurried over to his side. Someone came up behind her. She whirled around, ready to land a kick to the intruder.

  Abram stood in front of her, shirtless and clutching a silver dagger. Sweat rolled down his lean chest, and a dark mass of wavy hair swirled around his head.

  “Isabelle, stand down. Everything’s fine. Just a little spring training,” Jared said, peeling himself off the trash can and rising to his feet. He ran his palms over his wrinkled jeans and straightened his equally wrinkled T-shirt. Jared was the only middle-aged man Isabelle knew who dressed in logo tees, ripped jeans, and flip-flops. With his salt-and-pepper beard and crazy mop-top hair, he always appeared to have just stepped off a surfboard.

  “It’s all good, dark beauty,” Abram said, sheathing the dagger in his waistband.

  “What the hell’s going on here?” She turned to Jared. “I thought you were being attacked.”

  “We’re just practicing,” Abram said.

  “I didn’t ask you,” Isabelle said.

  Jared placed his body between them, apparently concerned she might try to take Abram out anyway. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said. “We have some new techniques to work on today.”

  “What?” Isabelle relaxed her fighting stance and glared at Abram. “I don’t have anything to practice with him.”

  Jared gave her his wise mentor look, a serious expression that indicated he didn’t have time to deal with her tantrums.

  Isabelle rolled her eyes. “Fine, I’ll play nice.”

  “Good.” Jared led them over to a grouping of chairs he’d set up. Isabelle chose a seat far from Abram and focused on Jared. “Now, I take it you two have met. Regardless of your feelings for each other, you’ve got to work together.”

  Isabelle opened her mouth to argue, but Jared squelched her words with a hand gesture.

  “Now,” he said. “Abram is stationed in Chicago. It seems they are dealing with a problem.”

  “Let me guess, vampires that can handle sunlight without bursting into a pile of ash.” Isabelle directed her glare at Abram. “And what are you doing here, anyway? Who’s protecting your city while you’re bothering me?”

  “The Apotheosis has assigned someone else to my city for the time being so I can assist other Seekers.”

  “And what if we don’t want your assistance?” Isabelle crossed her arms. The Apotheosis, a group of ancient Seekers she’d never met, ran the organization. As far as she knew, their only contribution seemed to be positioning annoying, straight-laced Chapters of ex-mentors in major cities to oversee Seekers, and whose only purpose just got in the way of Seeker duties. Like now.

  “You’re quite flippant for such a young Seeker,” Abram said.

  “Enough!” Jared slammed his fist on his desk. “We are going to work together, and that is my final order!”

  “Fine,” Isabelle said, slouching into her chair and crossing her arms over her chest.

  “Okay, according to the Apotheosis, Tavares, the vampire king, has been experimenting with demons. A vampire that completely drains a demon’s blood will transform the demon into a dangerous vampire that doesn’t follow the same rules as ‘traditional’ vampires. The transformation is almost immediate, but demons rarely hang out with humans, so the pickings are slim. These hybrids can withstand the sun’s rays, can’t be killed with a wooden stake, and don’t need an invitation to enter. And worst of all…they can possess demonic abilities.”

  Isabelle shot up in her chair. “How is this possible?”

  “The question isn’t how it’s possible, but more like why haven’t vampires figured this out sooner? I’m sure they’ve bitten demons before,” Abram said, sliding into the chair next to Isabelle.

  “Tell me again. Why are you in Houston? Have we had, like, an outbreak?” she said.

  Abram answered. ”The Apotheosis has sources. I don’t know, CIA for the undead or whatever. But according to the if-I-tell-you-I’ll-have-to-kill-you rule, Seeker people, there have been demon sightings in Houston—”

  Isabelle immediately went on the defense. “So you’re saying my city has been invaded by these hybrid ‘vampire-demons’ and possibly even the king of vamps because we now have demons
who’ve decided the city of Houston is a great place to party?”

  “You can be naive and reckless all you want, but you’re only going to get yourself killed.” Abram placed his hand on her leg. “And you’re way too pretty to die.”

  “Eww, get off.” Isabelle forced his hand off her leg and joined Jared at his desk. “So, tell me, how do I kill these ‘Daychildren?’”

  “Daychildren, I like that name. It’s fitting,” Abram said, stroking his chin.

  Isabelle ignored him.

  Jared retrieved a dagger from his desk drawer and handed it to Isabelle.

  She clasped the metal hilt and unsheathed it from its gold casing. Running her finger over the silver blade’s inscription, she didn’t recognize the Cherokee word. “U-le-tsu-ya-s-ti. What does it mean?”

  “I had it inscribed for you. It means ‘brave.’”

  “It’s beautiful.” Glancing up to meet her mentor’s dark eyes, she wanted to tell him thank you, but knew it would make him uncomfortable, especially in front of Abram. So she nodded instead.

  At the sight of her new dagger, excitement coursed through her. Isabelle had always relied on her martial arts training and wooden stakes to take down the enemy. Now, she’d been given a silver dagger. Then she realized she had no idea why. What the hell was this going to do, other than slow them down for a bit? She certainly couldn’t kill any type of vampire with a blade, unless she decapitated him, but that was tough – lots of bone and tendons to get through.

  “Okay, as cool as this is—” She held up the dagger. “How exactly am I going to kill a vampire with it?”

  Abram chimed in, approaching the desk. “It’s the only way to kill Daychildren. Because they are part demon, they don’t rely on their heart to keep them alive. But their brain—” He flipped his dagger out of his belt and made a downward motion toward her head. She didn’t flinch. Sure, Abram was larger than she was, at 100 pounds soaking wet, but she had the muscle to back her up.