by J Gaines
Amare:
Bloodlines
J Gaines
Copyright © 2019 J Gaines
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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This one’s for Norah… but with Emilie, Silva and Jesse in my thoughts as always. I hope you all find and become what you might be.
Thanks again to Theo and James for all of your precious time.
Theo, you inspire me every day.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
“When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be.”
Lao Tzu
Prologue
I’m dead.
It was cold, but as he ran he could feel his t-shirt, wet with sweat, clinging to his back. He stopped and placed his hands on his knees, sucking in large gulps of air. His fitness wasn’t what it used to be. He coughed loudly, spat onto the road and winced. He’d never been one for running longer distances – give him a short sprint anytime, he wasn’t built for this kind of exercise. He looked down at the puddle of saliva between his muddy trainers: lucky he’d managed to slip them on before making his escape. A sudden noise caused him to spin around, and he saw a cat skulking through the shadows and disappearing over a fence. He swallowed nervously as he peered down the dark street.
Where are you, Amias?
He continued running for another twenty minutes before he was forced to stop again. Now his breathing was even more laboured. He wiped his wet brow with his palm, and with his other hand, he pulled his phone from his pocket. It lit up to show an irreparably damaged screen. He cursed out loud, shaking his head and looking back in the direction he’d come from. Maybe I’ve lost them? He’d used all his training and every trick he knew to do so. A small smug satisfaction crept into his mind. If he’d lost them, he hadn’t managed to elude just anyone; he’d escaped the most dangerous man he’d ever heard of.
Please help me, Amias!
The thought of Kaden hunting him propelled him into movement again, and he trotted along the road, keeping to the middle. At the entrance to the park he stopped, trying to decide on the best path to take. His best option was through the park; this would get him where he needed to go more quickly, and he’d have a much clearer view of anyone approaching him – but he was scared. He stood silently for a moment, considering the choices, before launching himself through the gate. I can do this; don’t be a coward. I’m going to make it.
As he ran, his mind turned over the same thought. How did they find me? He’d not told anyone where his apartment was, and he’d been careful always to enter from the rear entrance. He ran past a church and suddenly remembered his last conversation with Amias. He’d offered him sanctuary, but he knew that with the offer came an expectation that he’d need to revisit a part of his life he’d tried to forget. He didn’t agree with what Kaden was doing, but he didn’t want to be part of trying to stop him. Goddamn it. Why can’t I just be left alone. He started to run faster.
He’ll be here soon.
He was almost halfway through the park when he stopped again; he was getting tired and he felt weak. His heavy frame and large muscles were working in a way they weren’t used to, and he was struggling to take in enough oxygen to keep them going. He looked around, hungrily sucking in huge breaths. As he looked down the winding path he’d just taken, he thought he saw a person standing in the distance, watching him. His heart began to beat even faster as he tried to focus on what they were wearing, but they were gone, leaving him wondering if he was imagining things.
Was it him?
He left the path and sprinted across the park towards the exit with renewed energy. His feet and legs were wet from the dew by the time he reached a steep hill. The hairs on the back of his neck and arms rose as he realised he was being hunted. When he reached the top of the hill, he turned and saw the dark figure standing at the bottom, looking up at him. In the darkness, he couldn’t make out who it was, but he knew they’d come for him. I still have a chance, I’m up here and they’re not. He could feel the adrenaline in his body preparing him for what was to come. Looking down the other side of the hill, he saw another person – and he watched in terror as they began to climb the slope.
There was one more chance before he’d resign himself to fighting his way free. He put his head down and ran along the top of the hill, sensing that the two people climbing the steep slope had also quickened their pace. This was what he was built for; nobody could catch him in a sprint, especially when he had the advantage of a headstart. He saw the flat peak of the hill begin to slope downwards; bushes and trees sprang from the darkness in front of him, and his eyes widened as he felt freedom lying within his grasp. He’d reached the slope and was almost free when, unexpectedly, his legs buckled underneath him. He grunted in pain as his torso and head slammed heavily against the ground. He rolled along the wet grass, twisting his body instinctively. As he looked up, he saw the tall figure of Kaden standing in front of him. Kaden’s hair was swept back neatly, and in one hand he carried a sheathed Japanese Katana sword. In the other, Reuben knew, he carried his death.
I need your help now.
“This has been fun, Reuben, but now it’s time to stop.”
Reuben scrambled to his feet and readied himself as best as he could. Two other unknown men joined them on the summit of the hill and flanked Kaden. Escape was out of the question now, and so was fighting his
way free.
“Why are you doing this, Kaden? You must know I’ve turned Amias down?” Reuben panted, trying to catch his breath and considering the cold black eyes of his pursuer.
“I did hear that, Reuben,” replied Kaden nonchalantly.
“Then why are you here?”
Kaden ignored his question and turned to the two men. One of them laughed cruelly and stepped forward as the other watched silently. The man moved towards Reuben, but then sidestepped and danced erratically around him. Reuben watched cautiously and saw that he wore a strange necklace that fell to below his chest. The man noticed his interest and laughed. “Do you like my necklace, Reuben?” He moved closer and hooked his thumbs under it, shaking it as he moved closer. Reuben turned his head in horror, repulsed as an assortment of body parts shook in unison.
The man laughed again. “Don’t worry, Reuben, I don’t wear it all of the time… only when I’m hunting,” he added with a wicked smile. “They’re my trophies!”
“You must forgive my friend’s manners, Reuben,” Kaden said with a laugh. “He’s a little wild and sometimes forgets to introduce himself. This is Andre.”
The man shot out a hand and held it in front of him. Reuben ignored it and looked around him desperately, clinging to a small hope that help could still arrive. He wondered what Amias was truly capable of, and if somehow he could hear his thoughts and his silent cry for help. He held his fists up protectively, glancing up at the stars which suddenly seemed to fill the clear night sky.
I need you, Amias…
The man named Andre crouched suddenly and let out a long whistle through a hideous grin. “He wants to fight, boss. Shall I fight him?”
Kaden threw Andre the sword and he caught it, spinning and unsheathing it in one movement. Suddenly Reuben found it even harder to breathe and he dropped to his knees, clasping his throat. He felt a strange, warm sensation spreading across his fingers and he looked at Andre in surprise. As he fell to the ground, he had time for one final thought before his eyes closed forever.
He didn’t come…
Chapter 1
The music became deafening as Amias made his way through the thick crowds. A beat began, and cheers arose from the people who surrounded him as a guitar tore across their excitement. A low, melodic voice floated from the stage, repeating words that he couldn’t make out. He concentrated on keeping pace with the man in front of him who was making his way quickly through the crowd. Was he aware of Amias’s presence? Certainly he was acting strangely and was in a rush. A name raced through Amias’s mind. “Max,” he whispered. He sighed deeply and watched his hot breath disappear into the cold, clear night.
It was late, and the band was nearing the end of its set. A new beat dropped in from a synthesizer and began to build; people started jumping around in excitement, throwing themselves into each other and screaming loudly. The atmosphere in the arena had become electric and the bodies around Amias moved in unison with the rhythm. He brushed his hand through his curly hair and his eyes narrowed as he followed Max’s path through the crowd. Remaining focussed was becoming hard. His mind wandered from the task at hand as he tried to concentrate on controlling his emotions. Now a voice was repeating other words in his head; the voice was his own, but the words were not.
“Control,” he said out loud. He shook his head angrily: he knew he wasn’t in control.
Max had stopped and was now standing looking in the direction of the stage. It was dark, and a warm night, but he still had his black hood pulled over his shaven head. Luckily, he was tall and rose above the people around him, making him easily distinguishable within the crowd.
Amias was careful to keep his distance, glancing from Max to the platform which rose in front of the huge crowd and was arched by a large dome. Metal poles criss-crossed their way around the arch and bright white lights burned into the night. Two large TV screens projected the band out to the crowd and Amias watched as the camera focussed on one of the band members. He was wearing a vest and had a guitar strapped around his shoulder, and his hands cupped the microphone as he sang. The tempo of the song was building again and there was another explosion of bass and synthesizer as the band member’s hands went to his guitar.
The lights on the stage flashed on and off, creating a strobe effect that was momentarily distracting. Amias turned back to where Max had been and panic took hold of him as the flashing lights played tricks on his eyes. He gritted his teeth and forced his way desperately through the crowd. The time for caution was gone. His anger throbbed inside him as he searched the crowd. He closed his eyes and focussed on his breathing, the way he’d once been taught. He took long breaths and the music was suddenly lost and he was alone; his eyes remained closed and his breathing was the only sound he could hear. He heard the voice again and opened his eyes. There wasn’t much time. He veered to the left in the direction the man had been going. He felt a renewed calm and was glad. The loss of control was something he didn’t like and was still struggling to understand. It had been almost fourteen months.
“Why?” he said out loud and clenched his jaw.
Suddenly, he felt someone collide against his back and he turned quickly. A man was dancing unsteadily behind him; his shirt was open, and his eyes were glazed. He smiled and pushed out an unsteady finger. Amias drew away quickly and the man fell forward, his finger still in front of him as he collapsed into the grass.
Five desperate minutes passed before Amias finally caught sight of a black hooded figure making its way quickly through the crowd. As he followed, it became more and more difficult to keep Max within sight; Amias quickened his pace, wrestling his way through the excited audience. He pushed his way through a group of large men who were almost fighting each other as they threw their heads back and forth in time with the music, forming a mosh-pit. As he emerged from the melee he realised he had lost his target again. He stopped and looked around him urgently, placing his hand on the sword hidden inside his coat, preparing for an attack. He fingered his earpiece and strained to hear what was being relayed to him. Was that his name being repeated? He couldn’t be sure. He resisted the urge to remove the device and continued in the direction Max had been heading. He was no longer following his own plan.
As the voice of the singer became more urgent, bellowing out his challenge to the crowd, a loud drum beat began. Lights flashed from the stage and Amias searched desperately for his mark. The synthesizer was relentless and powerful, and as the bass became more prominent, he felt his hair quiver and rise. Thoughts of a different time flashed into his mind: memories of a boy wearing headphones, immersed in his own world. An older boy was walking in front of him, carrying a school bag. He reached out to pull the boy back, to tell him to wait, but he was gone. He shouted out to him, but he’d disappeared, and his cry was lost in the music.
A chill ran through his body and the hairs on the back of neck rose as he became aware of a new threat. He stopped instantly and dropped to one knee, heightened senses cascading through his body. He felt a familiar tingle in his fingers and his muscles flexed and tightened as he closed his eyes, waiting. It was a trap; he was the one being hunted.
He opened his eyes and sprang to his feet as the first attacker moved to engage him. The man grabbed his jacket and attempted to push him backwards into the people behind him. But Amias was too strong and quick for his attacker, and he used the man’s momentum to flip him around and force him heavily into the grass.
Amias stood up and then ducked immediately as a kick whistled over his head and another four men ran towards him. Suddenly many pairs of strong hands were grabbing him from behind, pulling him backwards and off balance. Instead of pulling against them, he pushed, driving himself further into the crowd and using the people holding him to stay balanced. His movement obviously took his assailants by surprise as their grips slackened and some of them let go. He took the chance to rip himself free and turned around to fin
d himself even deeper in the crowd.
A punch stung his face and he looked up to see the boy again. He shook his head in disbelief and closed his eyes tightly as he was punched again. He opened his eyes and whirled around wildly to escape the attack, but more foes were closing in around him, throwing well-aimed punches and kicks at every possible part of his body. He held his ground and crouched slightly, automatically pulling his chin down to his chest and raising his clenched fists to shield his face. Every punch and kick began to become less painful as he gritted his teeth and tensed his body. He could feel his strength growing immeasurably, and despite the onslaught he stood up to find himself surrounded by at least ten attackers.
People in the crowd moved hastily away, leaving a small space surrounding them. A few onlookers moved to try and help him but they were thrown back; the band continued to play, unaware of the fight. As the singer lowered his voice, the music also dropped; a cymbal was struck repeatedly as the song began to build to its finale. In the break in the song Amias heard the voices again through his earpiece.
“Amias, Amias… are you there? Get out!”
Suddenly the music exploded, and, in an instant, he was on the attack; a vicious headbutt stopped one of his attackers and he kicked another in the chest, forcing him backwards and knocking over two more. He grabbed an arm locked around his neck and twisted it until it broke; he heard an agonised scream as the person fell backwards. Ducking under another punch, he threw multiple blows into a large man’s body, followed by an uppercut that knocked him off his feet.
A ponytailed man tried to turn and run, but Amias caught him by the back of his jacket, pulling him back so they were facing each other, and then twisting and launching a roundhouse kick to his head. The man expertly ducked the kick by dropping to one knee, but Amias followed the kick with a flying knee that connected with his forehead, instantly knocking the man unconscious. At last he’d managed to clear a path for escape! He burst into a run as he remembered his assignment and Max, the anger inside of him driving him onwards.
