by Unknown
New Order
Hidden Slayer Book One
HJLawson
~~~
Amazon Edition 1
Copyright © 2016 by HJLawson. All rights reserved.
Amazon Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Bonus Chapters: Slayer Trials
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Author's Note
Chapter One
A piercing noise comes from outside, like rubber tires squealing as they attempt to stop. A crash follows. I think a car collided with something. I push apart my pink canvas curtains to inspect what’s happening outside. I wonder if it’s kids from my school excited for prom tonight.
I glance down the street as I try to work out where the noise came from. Silhouettes of other people appear in the windows and doorways of other houses.
The street is creepy at night. The trees are weird, like skinny giants staring back at me. At the end of the street, a streetlight flickers on and off; a car is wrapped around it like a Christmas bow.
“That’s one of them on the list,” a voice says in a low whisper. I look around the room, trying to understand where the voice came from, but it’s not coming from inside my room.
“Remus will reward us nicely for this kid,” a voice adds. It sounds like it’s coming from outside, but how could I possibly hear that inside if the windows aren’t open?
Another voice laughs. “Or we could keep him for ourselves.”
I shudder as a cold feeling rushes through my body. My mind is playing some weird trick on me. I hesitate for a moment, but thankfully I can’t hear any other voices.
The curtains fall back into place as I step away from the window. I really need to get a grip, and I really need new curtains. These are way too childish for an eighteen-year-old.
I can’t believe I wasted time staring out of the window and thinking I can hear things. My friends will be here in any minute.
Prom. My head buzzes with excitement. I’ve been waiting for this night all year. My stomach flutters when I think about it. Aaron, my boyfriend of the last six months, has also been eagerly anticipating it. Mom and Dad think I’m staying at my best friend Lakia’s house… but I’m not. Aaron and I have a motel room booked for the night.
For the last few years, it’s been the normal thing for me to stay at Lakia’s on the weekend.
I sit down on the soft cushioned chair at my white wooden dressing table and glide some glossy red lipstick over my lips, the finishing touch to my makeup. Makeup isn’t actually my thing; I’ve never understood it. As it’s prom night, though, I thought I should make the effort, and to be honest I didn’t do a bad job. I went with smoky charcoal eyeshadow; Lakia said it would make my blue eyes pop. She was right—they do—and she will be happy with my made-up face. I smile at the pictures framing my mirror. Lakia’s image smiles back at me from a photograph. I have pictures of everyone I grew up with.
I scowl at one of the pictures that shows Ryder’s annoying face. He’s Lakia’s boyfriend—the loudmouth of our group. I grit my teeth together when I think of him, forming a lipstick stain on my teeth. They squeak as I rub my finger across them to remove the lipstick.
A long wail makes me jump up out of my seat. My heart races so fast that it feels like it's going to burst out of my mouth. I reassure myself that it’s just the police and ambulance coming to the crash site… I hope everyone is okay.
I push my hair down to get rid of any flyaway strands and gaze at my reflection in the mirror. My dress is beautifully understated, not one of those over-the-top things. It’s a fitted little black number that wraps around my body, which, thanks to all the sports I take part in, doesn’t have an ounce of fat.
As I slip into my shiny black stilettos, I wish I could wear my sneakers. Why do they make shoes that squeeze your feet into a weird shape? How the hell am I going to be able to dance in these? A pounding sound comes from our front door. My heart bounces with the sound. “He’s here,” I squeal. Aaron’s here.
I glide more red lipstick over my lips and then pucker them, blowing a kiss to the mirror.
As I take one last glance at the mirror—tonight is the night—my cheeks tingle, flushed red with excitement.
I push open the curtains, trying not to mess up my hair, and peek outside. A white limousine waits for me outside my house. I squeak in excitement.
A second round of knocking comes from the front door. The floorboards groan under my dad’s feet as he moves towards the door.
“I’ve got it,” I shout as I leave my bedroom.
I waddle across the carpet like a duck walking for the first time—then crash against the cold hallway walls, nearly knocking down the framed pictures hanging there. These shoes aren’t good for anything. I glance up at the photos as I regain my balance. The whole hallway is like a snapshot of my life. An outsider would think it was a shrine. I laugh. Each precious photograph captures a treasured moment of my past. There are loads of team photos, and all of my friends are smiling back at me.
Trailing a hand along the wall for balance, I get to the top of the stairs before Dad can answer the door. “I’ve got it, Dad!”
He freezes and stares at me from the bottom of the stairs.
Dad smiles, spots of salt-and-pepper stubble dancing along his face. A twinkle of pride shimmers in his tiny brown eyes, which are being swallowed up by his rosy, round cheeks.
“Nancy, get the camera,” he shouts to my mom.
There comes a rustling sound from the living room; Mom is rummaging around for the camera.
“It’s in the second drawer,” I yell down to her impatiently. “Hurry up, or they’ll leave.”
I start slowly down the stairs, holding on to the cool wooden banister, its bumps and ridges like vertebrae, sections worn away from years of use. I try to keep from tumbling down the stairs and give the impression I’m graceful at the same time. It’s harder than I thought it would be.
Just before I reach the bottom, Mom appears. Her face is flushed, and she’s out of breath. The edges of her brown hair are dark with sweat. She resembles a marathon runner, not someone who’d only ran across our living room.
I’m always on my parents’ case about losing weight, but they don’t listen to me. I try to make their meals for them, but I know they order in when I’m not around. They are not very good at hiding the evidence—the corners of pizza boxes emerge from our garbage bags most days.
“Oh, Sadie. You’re so beautiful,” Mom says as she hugs herself.
&nbs
p; “You’re a double of your mom when we first met,” Dad says as Mom’s head bobs up and down. I smile at them; in all the photos I’ve seen of them, I’ve never seen a similarity. I must have gotten my ancestors’ genes.
Mom and Dad smile at one another, as if they are remembering their youth. They have been together for thirty years and are still in love. They’re not like my friends’ parents, who have divorced or hate each other.
Knock, knock comes from the front door. “One minute,” I yell.
“Come on, take the picture,” I say to my mom with my hand on my hip.
Her response is to take one picture after another, just as she has all my life—twenty photos of the same thing. She gets me frustrated and happy at the same time.
“Nancy, you get in it. Let me take one of my two girls,” Dad says, smiling.
“Oh, okay.” Mom bounces over to me.
She places her arm around me, squeezing me tightly, and then smiles towards the camera. There is a click and then a flash of light.
“Okay, I’ve got to go,” I say as I give them each a peck on the cheek, leaving sticky, red lipstick marks on their faces. Mom places her hand on her cheek over the kiss mark.
I bend down to pick up my overnight bag; the extra weight makes me wobble. These damn heels. Only thing the heels are good for, is adding a few inches to my 5.2” height.
I open the front door.
In front of me, all I can see is the short brown hair on the top of Aaron’s head. His shoulders are hunched forward as he stares down at a clear plastic box with a white corsage in it.
“I thought you weren’t—” he starts as he raises his head, stopping once his warm brown eyes connect with mine. “You’re b-breathtakingly b-beautiful,” he stutters with a goofy grin on his face.
Warmth fills my body; my cheeks flush with joy.
His grin is the same one he gave me just before our first kiss, on the school football field, after he scored a winning touchdown. I went in for a hug to congratulate him; he gave me that grin and kissed me in front of half of the frigging school. I could have thought of millions of other places to share that moment, yet I wouldn’t take it back for anything.
He’s wearing a slim black tie—not one of those heavy ones my dad wears to weddings—with a crisp white shirt and black fitted jacket. I cannot believe he’s my date, my boyfriend.
“Hello, Aaron,” my mom says, interrupting our shared gaze.
“Hello, Mrs. Meyer. Mr. Meyer,” Aaron says, smiling at my parents. He spends more time here than at his own house. I don’t blame him. My parents have welcomed him into our home since he was a kid. They never treated him any different when we started dating. It’s like they knew we would get together in the end.
“Have fun, you two,” Mom says, smiling.
“Keep an eye on my little girl,” my dad says firmly.
“Dad.” I roll my eyes. “See you tomorrow.”
I link my arm around Aaron’s. The warmth of his body chases away any coldness from the night.
I’m grateful for his support as we walk down the path towards the limousine, which is shining under the streetlight.
“I thought you weren’t coming,” Aaron says.
“As if,” I say. “Is that for me?” I ask, inspecting the white corsage in his hands.
“No, it's for your mom,” he teases. He takes it out of the box and then fastens it around my wrist. Aaron carefully adjusts the corsage until it is beautifully positioned. I raise it to my nose, and the fresh crisp smell of perfume drifts up my nostrils.
“Thank you.” I lean forward and kiss his smooth lips. Excitement runs down my spine like I’ve been hit by lightning.
“You two coming, or what?” Lakia squeals through the limousine’s sunroof. Her jet-black hair flies backward as if she’s been dragged through a wind tunnel—the complete opposite to her normal sleek, glossy style. Bright peach lips frame a gleaming white smile of pure joy, a perfect accent color to her darker-than-usual fake tan. She waves, beckoning me to join her.
I laugh giddily.
Chapter Two
The music is flowing, and so is the alcohol, in the limo.
Ryder passes Aaron a shot glass. “Drink up.” Ryder downs his shot in one go, then bites down on a lime. The other boys follow suit. Aaron hesitates, then does the same.
The girls and I sip ours. It’s tequila. I hate tequila. It’s sharp with a woody taste that burns when it hits the pit of my stomach.
“Lime—I need a lime.” I grab one out of Lakia’s plastic tub and bite down on it. The citrusy taste takes the dryness away from my mouth. I really thought I was going to throw up.
Brittney’s bright blue eyes scrunch up at the taste of the lime and glaze over once she opens them again.
“The blue in your dress really makes your eyes pop, Brittney.” I should have chosen another color instead of black.
Brittney has curves in all the right places. I look like a kid in comparison. Vinny, Brittney’s boyfriend, smiles at her. They are one of those couples you know will get married after finishing college.
Ryder holds out another shot for Aaron, who waves it away. “I’m good. We’ve got all night.”
“Fine, more for me,” says Ryder, downing it. “Move up,” Ryder says, wedging his butt between Aaron and me. Great. We’re starting the night with me seated next to him. Ryder turns his back to me, his attention on Aaron. He hates that Aaron and I are dating, that someone is stealing away his time with his best friend.
Aaron doesn’t see Ryder the way I do. Ryder moved to our town when he was about ten into one of the posh houses on the other side of town. His nanny brought him up; his parents were rarely home. Most of the time, it’s just him now.
“Sadie, I love your red lipstick,” Lakia says. “It goes well with your brunette hair. You could do with a bit more foundation, though, don’t you think? And it’s a bit pale. Whole point of foundation is to give you a glow.” She looks at her hand mirror for the thousandth time. Each time she does, the layers of makeup get thicker and thicker.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to add more?” she offers.
“I’m good, thanks.”
“Sadie looks beautiful just the way she is,” Aaron says, leaning around Ryder.
“Yeah, yeah, we know. But everyone could do with a little enhancement,” Lakia says.
“Enhancements?” Ryder chirps. “I’m up for more to grab hold of.”
Aaron and the other boys laugh.
“Give me some chips?” Ryder asks, standing in front of Lakia with his hand resting on the roof of the limo. I take the opportunity and squeeze back next to Aaron. His arm sweeps around my waist, pulling me closer to him. No room for Ryder now.
Lakia crunches away at potato chips. “No, I’m hungry. Didn’t get a chance to eat.”
“Come on. You look like you’ve had enough.” Ryder’s eyes trail up and down Lakia’s slim body.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Nothing, forget it. You enjoy the potato chips,” Ryder says flatly.
Lakia stares down at the bag and gulps. “Here. I’m good. You have them.”
“Only if you’re sure.” Ryder snatches the bag before Lakia can comment.
I lean into Lakia. “Why do you let him do that to you?”
“It’s nothing,” she says, adjusting her dress.
Lakia rummages around in her purse, pulling out her mirror again. By the time we get to school, she’ll look like a clown.
“You really are beautiful,” Aaron whispers into my ear.
“You look very handsome tonight as well.”
“Mom didn’t think so; she kept going on about my tie.” Aaron smooths it down neatly.
“What’s up with your tie?”
“Too frigging ‘modern’—just the normal garbage that pours from her mouth.” Aaron stares at his red plastic cup for a moment. It’s filled with Ryder’s lethal cocktail. He shrugs as he downs a big gulp.
“Here�
��s to a night we will not forget.” Aaron knocks our plastic cups together.
“To a night we won’t forget.” The alcoholic beverage warms my insides, making my fingers buzz and me tense with energy.
“Time to check this out,” Aaron says, a glimmer of excitement entering his eyes. He takes my hand and pulls me up off the seat. “Sunroof time.”
I grip hold of the soft rubber edge of the sunroof and pull myself up. Aaron does the same.
“This is awesome,” he hollers next to me.
Adrenaline runs through my body, the wind flying through my hair.
The limousine comes to a sudden halt, pushing me forward as a red traffic light appears from nowhere. I gasp for air, and a nervous laugh of surprise escapes my lips.
With the limousine motionless, I push my hair down, trying to fix what the wind did to it. At this rate, my hair is going to be crazy before getting to prom. I carry on pushing it down.
Then something from the corner of my eye captures my attention—a moving shadow. I lean forward. Under a streetlamp, a man is leaning up against a store wall as if he’s rummaging through something.
Yet something’s out of place. It’s his clothing. He’s wearing an old-fashioned suit. The streetlight shines on his glossy black shoes as he moves them.
I stare at the object that the man is leaning over, squinting for a better look. It cannot be… It’s a body.
I gasp in surprise. Before I can take another breath, the man has turned around. He pulls his long, matted black hair from his face, revealing his eyes. His gaze makes me feel uncomfortable, as if I’m his prey. A heavy weight pushes down on my chest as his eyes burn into mine. They’re black holes of darkness. His lips peel upward, flashing sharp white teeth with… No. It can’t be… He has fangs. Bright red blood shimmers in the streetlight as it drips down from his lip.
His tongue extends out of his mouth like a snake’s and trails slowly across his lips as he savors the taste of blood. He closes his eyes in pleasure. The limousine jolts forward, and we start to move away from him.
