by Willow Cross
The Dark Gifts
Birthright
By
Willow Cross
Copyright 2011 Willow Cross
~~**~~
Dedication
For Phyllis. Thank you for telling me I should.
For Rebecca, Angela, and Pamela. For telling me I could.
For Ken, Chris, and Judy…where would I be without your support?
I love you all!
Other books by Willow Cross
The Dark Gifts: Birthright (First in the series)
The Dark Gifts: Inheritance (Second in the series)
Oceans of Red volume one
Oceans of Red volume two
Haunted, 100% Totally True Ghost Stories
Coming Soon:
Oceans of Red volume three
The Dark Gifts: Legacy
Chapter One
Inquisition
This was crazy. Just forty-eight hours ago the man whose hand she held with an iron grip, whose comfort she sought in this unimaginable whirlwind of chaos, and was willing to sacrifice herself for if need arose--had killed her. She glanced around the hall hoping to find a friendly face...anything that might calm her wrangled nerves.
The spacious room coupled with a high-arched ceiling could have doubled as an auditorium. Three rows of tiered benches surrounded the grayed wood floor, adding to the effect. Dotted throughout the crowd were beings of extraordinary beauty. But there were others there. The kind pictured in horror stories. Sallow skinned, tangled hair, with monstrous features and fangs, they grinned and jostled each other in anticipation of what was about to happen. If the vampires gathered had been using their voices instead of their minds to speak, the noise would have reverberated with the intensity of a rock concert.
“Look at him. Even now, so proud and full of himself. I wonder if he's ever considered being under the hand of his brand of justice?”
“Oh, she's beautiful. The pain of this loss will be great for him,” another voice snickered.
“Two hundred years I have waited for this moment. Tell me, Michael, how does it feel? Was it all worth it now?”
Nothing she could make out sounded like a help to their cause. The vampires wanted retribution. Without thinking, she edged closer to Michael. In the presence of all this hostility, his nearness felt like a safe haven.
A shiver of dread moved through her as he led her to the dais at the far end of the room. Six black cloaked figures sat on large carved wooden thrones. Even without knowing who they were, their appearance alone would have instilled fear. The hooded cloaks covered every physical detail. No face, hand, or bit of skin revealed whether the figure beneath was human or other.
Fear bloomed in her eyes as she looked at Michael. Her lower lip trembled.
His chiseled features exuded a calmness she couldn’t quite manage. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. He had nothing else to offer. Turning to face the Council, he pulled her behind him.
Still as statues, the Council did not seem to even be breathing. Horror enveloped her. Each step they took toward the dais seemed to echo doom and destruction.
“Dead girl walking,” she thought as they finally stopped in front of the elders. Her head bumped against his shoulder. The Liz she used to be would have stepped back, but this new Liz remained close. She felt the muscles in his arm tighten, as once again, he applied comforting pressure to her hand.
She winced as a new voice blared above the others filtering through her mind. “Your thoughts are appropriate, girl.”
Liz couldn’t make out who was actually speaking. All six of the elders remained unmoving. It took a moment to realize the voice was not audible but in her head.
“Death is the order of the evening. We are here to bring justice. The law has been broken. Who will defend the accused?”
Michael stepped forward. “I will defend myself. I need no other to protect me.” His voice was strong and certain. He seemed to have no fear at all. A murmur ran through the crowd of angry vampires.
“Silence. The telepathic barrier has been raised. Any who attempt to break through will be punished. So be it then, Michael, you have chosen to stand alone in this. And so it should be, as in solitude you have handled the tasks the weak among us could not bear.” A nod from the cloaked statue to the far right finally gave clue to the speaker.
“Pray tell us the circumstances which brought us here this evening, Michael. We elders are bewildered with why our own hand of justice would perform this treacherous deed.” This voice was different than the last. Definitely feminine and with a softer tone, she sounded like a mother pleading with her child to answer for bad behavior. Examining the dais, although no one had moved, Liz noticed one figure smaller than the others. This must be the woman that spoke now.
Michael stepped forward and said, “I will show you how it happened. The memory is the only evidence I can provide. Just the facts the way they occurred. You know me and my perseverance in upholding our laws.”
As one, the Council stood. “Come.”
Michael proceeded up the stairs until he stood directly in front of them. Immediately, they surrounded him without saying a word. Complete silence permeated the room as if every being in attendance held their breath.
Liz wanted to turn and run as fast as she could and get away from this awful place. Her legs seemed to be mired in quick sand. Terror consumed her. If not for the invisible quick sand, her body would have fled of its own volition. It seemed like she stood there for hours, holding her breath, and waiting. Then it was over.
All six of the elders were once again seated on their thrones and Michael stood beside her. A different voice spoke this time; it was cold, mean, and full of hate. “And now the girl.”
She raised her gaze to search his bright green eyes. “Michael?”
“It’s all right. It doesn’t hurt if you allow it.” The slight smile playing at the corner of his full lips assured her in a way his words couldn’t. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and moved up the few stairs to stand in the spot he’d so recently vacated. She never saw them coming. One minute they were seated and the next she was surrounded. Their hands lay lightly on her shoulders, arms and back. Her vision went dark and then miraculously, she had returned to the carnival two evenings earlier.
Assailed by the smell of cotton candy and corn dogs, her focus remained on the raven-haired man leaning against the duck shoot booth. Exceptionally tall, with hair much longer than she generally preferred on men, his bright green eyes held her attention. Feeling a flush creep over her cheeks, she barely noticed Marsha’s persistent elbowing. “Hello? Earth to Liz?”
Breaking his gaze, she faced her friend. “Sorry. You were saying?”
Marsha looked across the short distance retracing Liz’s line of sight. “What are you staring at?” Upon seeing the man, she laughed. “Holy crap. He is perfectly edible. And I think he’s way interested. He’s still staring at you and he knows I’m watching!”
Liz’s vision grew dark again and as if fast forwarding through a movie, scenes flashed until they were alone on the beach. His chilled hand brushed against her cheek pushing a hair behind her ear. His voice wrapped around her in tantalizing waves. “Just one little kiss.”
“Michael, I just met you. I like you and everything, but I’m really not that kind of person.”
“Shhh,” he said running a cool finger along her bottom lip.
A shiver ran down her back and her knees almost gave out. Off balance, she stumbled. His strong hands shot out with lightening speed to catch her. “Just one, and then we’ll go back to your friends.”
There was something in his voice. She could not refuse him. He moved i
n slowly. Even after declining numerous times, she could hardly wait to feel his lips against hers. Her midsection burned with desire. Then at long last, his lips met hers. As if they had a will of their own, her arms wrapped around his neck. His large hands moved from her face to entangle in her long auburn waves. One after another his kisses held her breath hostage. Leaving a gentle trail from her lips to her ear, he moved down toward her neck. She gasped. Ecstasy. Primal, sensual hunger pressed in. Then--searing, white-hot pain.
Terror consumed her. She shoved at his shoulders, pushing with every ounce of her strength. Hot fluid ran down her chest. The sound of his slurping and sucking resonated in her ears. She screamed, and with one last horror-filled shove, he nearly flew away from her. Power coursed through her veins.
The memory receded as the dim lights of the so-called auditorium came into view. Reliving the nightmare was almost worse than living it. Breathing heavy and still somewhat disoriented, Liz stepped back into a hard body. She spun. “It’s over,” Michael whispered. Taking her hand, he led her down the stairs.
“It is done.” The hateful voice pronounced. “No law has been broken. Michael acted in accordance with the law.”
“He did not receive permission for the turning!” A voice yelled from the crowd.
“How did she change if she was only bitten once?” Another called out.
“This is the utmost hypocrisy!”
The smaller figure stood and raised her hand. Immediately, the group of angry vampires quieted. “He is free to go. No justice is needed. However, the girl will remain in the fortress.”
The vampires broke loose with murmured approval of the elders’ edict. They were all relieved to see that Michael would suffer some form of punishment.
“No!” Michael bellowed, “There’s no reason for you to keep the girl. She is mine now. She will stay with me, and I will teach her our ways.”
Emotion washed over her as she realized she was going to die, to really die, this time.
Michael reached out without looking at her and clasped her hand in his iron grip. The tension in his muscled body was enough indication he was ready to bolt. Any moment, they would fly out the door and away from this madness. Even though she’d just met him, Liz knew he would never leave her. In that instant, she understood with clarity what his direct disobedience would mean. If he did not follow the ruling of the Council, Michael would die too.
Liz wrenched her hand from his grasp, and this time, she stepped boldly forward. “I will stay and Michael can go.” Her voice did not waiver as she pronounced her own death sentence. No matter what happened to her, she knew she couldn’t let him die.
“No! I won’t allow it!”
Liz turned and gently placed her hand against his cheek. “Yes,” she said softly. “It has to be this way, I'll follow the ruling of the Council and so will you.”
Chapter Two
The First Lesson
Except for the sound of water dripping from some unknown pipe or crack in a wall, it was quiet. They had taken her swiftly. Her last glimpse of Michael showed him in the clutches of two vampires, so big that the shorter of the two still stood nearly a head taller than him. It was he who pressed a blade against her guardian’s neck. Michael shouted his rage at the Council and shouted an oath to her. “I’ll find you. Just do what they say. I’ll find you!”
Cloaked figures surrounded her. Prodding her out through a door and down through tunnels so fast that she had no idea where she was. The elders had not spoken one word to her as they transferred her from the tunnels to a cell.
She was alone now, in the dark enclosed room. A dungeon of some sort, she was certain. The cell walls were cold, hard clay. A musty, stale smell pervaded the air. Terror gave way to worry as the silence engulfed her.
Everything and everyone left behind raced through her mind. Visions of her nieces and nephews, what had been and what she would never see, toyed with her. Lindy learning to ride a bike. Little Casey covered in chocolate ice cream. Young Sarah Masada, the foster child she’d mentored from the Boys and Girls Club. Poor Sarah had no parents; Liz was the only female influence in her life now that her older brother was raising her. They'll think I'm dead, or worse, that I just ran off and left them. It's too late now to let any of them know how much I love them. Most of all, she worried about Michael.
Yesterday, she’d wanted to kill him. Now, here in a dark cold cell, she wondered where he was and what he was doing. Would he be all right after she was gone? Being away from him was becoming painful even now. Her lungs constricted, making it difficult to fill them with air. She knew she would feel only the pain of dying, but his pain--his great pain of losing her and the connection--would be overwhelming. So much worse than death, he had said. Her mind moved over the events that had brought her here. Racing through the woods, him following--hunting her. Feeling his rage at her turning through this new-found psychic connection. And her own at being attacked. Lost in her ruminations, she never felt the entity enter her mind and take over. As with the Council’s memory viewing earlier, the scene flashed in her head.
Brambles and brush scratched and pulled at her arms and legs as if attempting to slow her crazed pace. Elizabeth shot furtive glances over her shoulder as she ran. In the darkness, limbs danced in her wake. Shadows seemed to lurk behind every tree. Teasing, they shifted and moved. With each new glance, panic grew, giving her added strength and stamina. She knew he was out there. Vibrations from his nearness rubbed against her like finger nails down a chalkboard.
The voices in her head blocked out all sound except the crunch of twigs under her feet. Breathless, shoving limbs out of her way, always pressing forward, she tried to outrun the voices and the thing hunting her. As she’d gained distance between herself and the carnival, the voices muddled and grew softer. With the exception of his voice. It still permeated her mind as if he ran along beside her. His emotions rolled through her in an exhausting wave of rage and lust for blood.
“Must find her,” echoed in her mind. She slowed. Doubled over and panting, she listened. Her head pounded with the rhythmic beat of her heart. Only through sheer force of will was she able to calm the rapid beating to a quiet thudding.
In the dark expanse behind her a twig snapped. Her body tensed as she slid behind a tree and tried to blend into the night. She blinked to clear the stinging sweat from her eyes before it blinded her. He was gaining on her. No matter how fast she ran, she would never outrun him.
The crackle and pop of woodland debris came from her far left. How does he move so fast? What is he?
Feeling the rough bark behind her dig into her back, she closed her eyes and tried to still her thudding heart. Not one muscle twitched. Auburn hair, saturated with sweat, clung to her shoulders and back. Ready to spring into another marathon run, she waited and prayed he would pass.
She filled her lungs with air and held her breath. Her body pulsated with pain as if her blood were replaced with acid. With each pump of her heart, the acid-blood rushed through her veins scorching every nerve, muscle, and cell. Biting down on her lower lip, she stifled a cry.
The crunch and snap of breaking twigs moved away.
His mind reached out to her. It probed and prodded, like tentacles searching for an entrance. For an instant, there was a vision of another view of the forest. A large, white hand pushed against a low hanging limb. Eyes turning away from his hand, he scanned his surroundings. His head lifted as he sniffed. Anger and frustration filled him. And lust. Molten, scalding lust for...
Wincing, she emptied her mind of any sounds, smells, or shapes that could give her position away.
Laughter rippled through her mind. After a moment, it transformed into an audible scream of rage that broke into the quiet night. Her eyes snapped open, and once again, she fled.
As her relentless pace slowed, Elizabeth tried to make sense of what she was feeling and still seeing in her mind’s eye. He--no it--had fangs! The angry, blood-drenched snarl burne
d in her memory. She could still feel the horrible brutal moment when he took her life. But no, maybe her life had not ended, because covered in what was left of her blood and filled with pain, she pushed him away and raced down the beach. She clearly remembered the feeling of life passing, of being on the edge of some darkness that should have consumed her, before the strength came. The feeling was unlike anything she’d ever felt; there was a thrill of power in it. For a moment, a primeval urge to scream, and then a raging joy. As if with the loss of that last shred of humanity, she finally truly felt alive.
No time for this Liz. Where are you? She thought as she scanned the area. Nothing but trees and none of it familiar.
In the midst of the darkness, preternatural senses began to assert themselves. Cricket chirps and buzzing mosquitoes filled the crisp still air. Her ears twitched as she listened for the soft breaths of birds sleeping in their nests and the gentle rustle of rabbits rolling over in their dens. Concentrating on the sounds, her head moved from side to side and waited for a sound that would give away his location. In that instant, there came a sudden knowing, not a hunch or gut instinct, but a distinct knowing that he was returning. She could feel him probing, searching, seeking a scent, and knew he still hunted her.
Uncharacteristically raising her head, she sniffed the air. She could smell him in the wind. His musky, sweet scent floated in from the east. Then nothing. It vanished. Her head snapped to the west. The faint call of a rooster from a nearby farm crowing in the dawn drifted through the trees. Morning approached.
In the east, various shades of pink and orange tinged the horizon. I need to find cover, she thought as she hurried through the forest. That slight glow of dawn stung her eyes, and her skin tingled. Goosebumps rose on her flesh, and the sensation intensified, as if the poison in her blood had reached her outer layers.
Frantic, she turned in a circle searching for a place to hide. There was nowhere to go. As the sun peeked over the horizon, and the forest began to lighten, she noticed a flickering through the trees in the distance. A beacon in the grey haze of morning.
Using her hand to shield her eyes, she rushed toward the source. Tired and weak, her body moved out of necessity until she reached a small cabin. A lamp in the front window gave off a faint glow. The sun ascended higher in the sky and her skin began to burn. Unnoticed, tiny spirals of smoke lifted from her skin.
