by Pierce, SJ
The Alyx Rayer Chronicles:
MARKED FOR VENGEANCE
Book One
By: S.J. Pierce
Cover Art by Brittany Bowman
© SJ Pierce, 2012. All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher or author.
The Alyx Rayer Chronicles
By: S.J. Pierce
Book One:
MARKED FOR VENGEANCE
Book Two:
TETHERED BY FATE
Book Three:
DESTINED FOR FIRE
This book is dedicated to my friends and family, because of whose encouragement and thoughtful praises this story saw the light of day.
~
Psalm (20:4)
PREFACE:
A Note to My Readers
It’s easy to feel insignificant sitting outside in the dark, gazing up at the stars. Much like this story might feel as it drifts amongst a sea of novels. If you truly let your mind wander -- to feebly grasp how vast and infinite the universe is -- our planet will seem but a speck of dust, our bodies and lives even smaller.
The many times I’ve pondered this, it seems naive, or better yet, conceited to think that we are the only ones alive within it. My imagination runs wild with possibilities. Who might the others out there be? Are their societies and code of ethics structured the same? Do they share a similar creator or point of origin?
And on a more immediate level, are the people who walk among us on Earth really who they say they are? Do some have a higher calling regardless of righteous or evil intent? As the Bible suggests, we are not alone; "Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, some have entertained angels without knowing it." (Hebrews 13:2) These words have stayed with me throughout the years and are the source from which my story was bred, coupled with, of course, my ever growing intrigue as to what else might be out there.
While I know these ponderings aren’t particularly earth shattering -- ok, they aren’t -- my hope, dear readers, is that this story finds you intrigued, that it might burn a little brighter than those around it.
With Love,
~S.J. Pierce
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE: A Tortuous Birth
CHAPTER 1: Alyx
CHAPTER 2: Isaac
CHAPTER 3: A Rule of Physics
CHAPTER 4: Amongst the Clouds
CHAPTER 5: Out with a Bang
CHAPTER 6: An Intruder
CHAPTER 7: If it’s Meant to be
CHAPTER 8: An Unlikely Visitor
CHAPTER 9: Like a Band Aid
CHAPTER 10: Shattered
CHAPTER 11: The Beginning of the End
CHAPTER 12: Precious Cargo
CHAPTER 13: The Finish Line
CHAPTER 14: A Moment to Grieve
CHAPTER 15: Destined to Avenge
Sampling of TETHERED BY FATE, The gripping sequel to Marked for Vengeance
PROLOGUE:
A Tortuous Birth
She stood shoulder to shoulder with her brethren, nobody able to move, or make a sound. Waiting to be brought to life, their bodies felt more like prisons to their souls that shuddered in response to the darkness around them.
Her mind reeled with images, distant, agonizing memories of the last two times she had endured this torture, and her frozen muscles itched for movement so she could flee. Because even though her spirit had been assigned to a body before, what awaited her in the moments to come never became any easier.
Without warning, the delicate touch of their maker forced their heads backward and opened their mouths. A breath of livened air rushed into their souls. It warmed from the inside, beginning in her chest and rolled out to her limbs, burning and glowing through her newly formed veins. Her eardrums fluttered as waves of sound pounded into them again; the feet of others shifting beside her, the fragile pop of their necks as they straightened into place.
Before anyone could move from their carefully placed stances, a thunderous voice resonated through them, bending them to its will. Their minds flashed with intricate directives as it barked their commands, ones they could not deviate from, ones that meant the difference between life and death. Their orders ceased, and the burning traveled to their eyes that squinted as a light in the distance flickered like the flame of a faraway candle, the blanket of darkness so thick that even the dimmest glow burned with a blinding intensity. The light strengthened as it moved steadily closer and divided into smaller orbs that hovered in front of each of their faces, illuminating their anxious expressions. A rumble rolled through the air, and they forced their way into the being’s mouths. Their lungs heaved. Their hearts raced -- they were alive.
They studied one another in wonder, each of them appearing the same; no hair, lean bodies, naked breasts, haunting, black eyes. Their slender fingers brushed over their new, youthful skin, which felt soft and warm, but tough like a full-plated suit of armor.
As though a switch had flipped, the darkness separated them, and their chilling moans pierced the air as their bodies transformed into their own unique shapes -- undoubtedly from the ones who went through it for the first time. Jaw clinched, she bore the excruciating pain of her own transformation; bones and ligaments cracking, skin stretching to accommodate the growing muscles, her face narrowing and lips plumping. Her scalp tingled and silky, thick hair spilled over her back and shoulders.
Now for the worst part of all, the one she despised the most.
She clasped her hands and locked her muscles, bracing for the familiar sharp, stinging pain that seared into their left shoulder blades as they were branded. Their once unblemished skin blistered into the symbol that represented everything they were created for, reminding them every day what their purpose in this lifetime was – to fulfill a purpose and one purpose only. But first, they had to find their Marked.
CHAPTER 1:
Alyx
Alyx unclipped her work badge from the lip of her purse and swiped it over the security pad at the parking lot gate as she had done every weekday morning for the past three years. Here we go again, she thought, and a smile swept across her face. But at least it’s Friday.
She parked her silver Civic in the same spot as always – first space in the front with a metal sign that read; “Bachman and Yorkshire Law Firm: Employees Only.” Alyx worked as the assistant to Mr. Frederick Bachman himself, a prominent litigation lawyer in Atlanta, Georgia.
For a final check before beginning her day, she pulled the sun visor down and studied her masterpiece in the mirror. Long, raven hair framed her face in smooth, wavy curls, smoky shadow rimmed her dark brown eyes, and her porcelain skin appeared as flawless as her full, round lips. Which need lipstick, she determined. She slid a black MAC tube from inside her purse and lightly dusted on her favorite shade to give them a hint of sparkle.
Greeted by the moist, morning air, she stepped onto the asphalt and tucked in her favorite red blouse, which always came untucked on her ride to work, to her knee length pencil skirt that hugged her long legs flatteringly.
“Morning! Beautiful October day, isn’t it?” the man from the fifteenth floor said as he strode by.
“Indeed it is,” she replied and made her way to the passenger-side door.
While balancing on her stilettos, she opened the door and leaned inside to grab a coffee holder with four lattes, purse, briefcase, and gym bag, and shut the door with her backside. They should call me the bag lady, she mused.
A maze of obstacles lay ahead; early morning workers bustling down the sidewalk, car
s whizzing by in every direction, and sewer grates waiting to snag the tip of her heels, but three years of baggage-juggling allowed her to make it through without a hitch. At the end of her conquest stood a high-rise building with tinted windows and heavy double doors that the security guard propped open for her arrival.“Thank you, Claude,” she said, to which he gave a terse nod in response.
Once inside, she followed the slick, marble flooring to the cluster of elevators in the back of the building, and a familiar voice echoed through the lobby from behind. “I’m going to nominate you for an award for balancing all of that with those four inch heels on!”
She grinned from ear to ear and whipped her head around to see her dear friend Cindra clomping toward her with her ashy blond hair pulled into a messy bun, as usual, oversized hoop earrings that swung back and forth as she walked, her pretty, but slightly wrinkled clothes, and her typical bright smile tainted with red lipstick smudged across her front teeth. Morning!” Alyx chimed. “You’re on time today I see!”
Cindra sighed and blew a wispy piece of bang that had fallen into her face. “I know. Write this day down in history.”
As they continued toward the elevators, she peered down at Alyx’s shoes in astonishment. “So what do those heels make you, seven feet tall?”
“I bought them last night. I had to get them.”
Even though Alyx stood at a considerably tall height of five foot ten, she was still partial to wearing at least four inch heels to work and sometimes on the weekends.
Cindra offered an extended hand to grab one of the bags. “Here… let me help you.”
“Thanks, but I have it. I’m afraid if I shift anything around it will all tumble down.”
“I’ll cover the elevator, then.”
Alyx and Cindra Jacobs became friends last summer when Frederick hired Cindra on as a Paralegal. They hit it off instantly after they met at a breakfast meet-and-greet the office held for her arrival. They had a few traits in common -- although not entirely obvious from first glance if you went by looks alone -- but were single girls at the time in a big city, both friendly and warm. Alyx had never experienced such a close bond with a friend in such a short amount of time, almost as if it were designed by the gods.
Ding! The elevator doors opened on the eighteenth floor, and they headed for their desks. The whir of a busy office saturated the air; phones ringing, printer’s clicking, and the clacks of heels as people walked back and forth in their dresses and business suits to get the day started.
“I can’t wait for tomorrow,” Cindra beamed. “We’re going to have so much fun!”
“I’m looking forward to it too,” Alyx said as she placed the first latte on the receptionist’s desk with gold letters that read; “Bachman and Yorkshire”. “Morning, Deborah!” she said to the red-haired lady who sat behind it with a headset on.
“Thank you, dear,” she replied.
“I need a girls’ day so bad it’s not funny,” Cindra continued as she pulled a mirror from her purse and wiped her front teeth while trailing behind Alyx through the rows of cubicles. “I’ve already scouted the perfect place for lunch. It’s called The Grape and they have all these different types of wines. I know how you like your wines…”
I hope this girl’s day doesn’t go TOO long, Alyx thought as Cindra chattered on.
Their next stop was Stacey Yorkshire’s office. Alyx peered in, and Stacey’s ever-perfect French twist stared back at her as she sat in her leather swivel chair, facing her whitewashed oak bookshelf while prattling away with a client. Alyx resolved to sneak in and leave the latte on her desk, when halfway into her well-decorated office, Stacey whirled around to take it from her, followed by a wave and a silent “thank you”.
Alyx worked mainly for Frederick, but Mona, Stacey’s assistant, wasn’t the type of person to go out of her way to do anything nice for anyone – like pick up lattes for her boss or bring in a cake for her birthday. She proved her worth when it came to booking meetings or travel arrangements, but if any errands needed to be run or lunch to be ordered it was simply “not her place” as she would whine in her nasally voice. After all, why would she worry with such trivial errands if she knew Alyx would take care of them? Alyx never understood why Stacey kept her around. Surely there were other qualified people in need of a job that had a better attitude than Mona.
Cindra stepped out of the way to allow Alyx enough room to exit Stacey’s office. “After that I thought we’d check out that new movie that came out. What is it called? Love Comes Quickly? Or is it Swiftly… either way, I think we’ll have a great time.”
“I agree,” she replied, hoping she didn’t sound too indifferent, but juggling the latte’s without spilling them down her neatly pressed blouse required most of her attention. Almost there.
Frederick’s office shared the same wall as Stacey’s and was her last stop before dumping her bags, which now weighed a hundred pounds, beside her desk. Alyx stopped short. That’s odd, she thought. His fluorescent office lights didn’t buzz through the glass pane on his door. Usually by the time she arrived he had already been through his emails and had left a teetering stack of papers atop her desk for filing.
She spun around to her desk and placed the last two lattes on the corner, dumping her bags on the floor in synchronization.
“Where’s ‘Casanova’?” Cindra asked while pointing at Fredrick’s door.
Cindra dubbed Frederick with the pet name ‘Cassanova’ shortly after her hiring. He had rightfully earned that name, as he was a true charmer and had no qualms using it to his advantage whether he needed an employee to go above and beyond or a client to put their full trust in him. “But not in a tacky car salesman way,” Cindra would protest. “And it doesn’t hurt that he’s a lawyer, making good money either.” Alyx swore that if he weren’t married, her friend might consider making a move.
“He should be here already. Let me check my-”
Before she could finish her sentence, Frederick rushed around the corner. “Casanova is in the building!”
Cindra’s hazel eyes widened, and her cheeks flushed a bright pink -- he had heard her say his pet name. “I’ll catch you later!” she squeaked and darted off, tripping over her feet as she ran.
“Let’s do lunch!” Alyx shouted after her and chuckled. I’ll hear about that later.
As her boss approached his office, she tapped her watch while propping her right hip on the edge of her desk. “This is unlike you, sir. Thirty minutes later than usual.”
Frederick shook his head in disgust. “Traffic was a beast. Interstate was jammed from some moron who decided to forget how to drive today. But of course you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
She huffed dramatically, flinging her wrist across her forehead. “My ten minute drive was just awful. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Real funny, Ms. Rayer,” he said with a grunt, to which she flashed a cheesy, wide smile in return. “I know, I know, I’m jealous of your commute. So what’s on the agenda today?” he asked while unlocking his office door.
She rested in the chair behind her desk and flipped her hair over her shoulder. “You have a client briefing in thirty minutes, and a meeting with some of the associates after that. What do you need from me?”
“Just that latte,” he replied with a wink.
Alyx groaned internally as she focused on starting up her computer for the day. Frederick often came across as condescending, but despite her mild repulsion to his often demeaning tone, Alyx knew that he only meant it in a charming way. His tricks had never worked with her in the least, which could have been why she had been his only assistant to last more than a year. Her focus remained on her work and not his looks or smothering charisma. She couldn’t deny that he had a certain magnetizing appeal with his salt and pepper well-groomed hair, incredible posture, and chiseled body that his expensive Armani suits fit like a glove, but unlike Cindra, his smarmy ways always seemed cheesy to Alyx, like a prince from
a kid’s fairytale movie.
Frederick retrieved his drink from her desk and headed into his office. “Can you confirm those lunch reservations for me and Mr… what’s his name?”
“Whitman, and that’s already been done. Twelve thirty at the Atlantic.”
“That’s why I keep you around,” he said and shut the door behind him.
“Don’t you ever forget it!”
Alyx’s fingers swept across her keyboard to unlock the computer screen when Mona’s distinctive, nasally voice from around the corner announced her arrival, complaining about the traffic and insisting it was the cause of her tardiness to all who would hear. Although, to Alyx, when she appeared it looked as though she had just rolled out of bed. Her frizzy auburn curls had been pulled into a sloppy ponytail with the ends springing out in every direction, and red lines from the creases of her pillowcase streaked across her cheek. Nice. “Morning, Mona,” she said.
Mona plopped into her chair. “If that’s what you want to call it,” she grumbled. “I need a vacation. Not like the three day stay-cation I had at home last weekend, like a real vacation… to the Bahamas.”
Alyx shot up from her desk while clinging to a manila file folder she kept handy for occasions such as this, pretending she needed to make copies in an effort to escape. “I feel you on that one.”
“Oh, I’m sure your rich boyfriend would take you next week if you asked him,” she said under her breath.
As Alyx passed her desk to evade the painful morning chit chat, she fought to keep her top lip from drawing into a sneer. Off to a good start already. How much longer until lunch?
* * *
After her pretend copies and two meetings later, lunchtime snuck into place. Alyx typed away on an email to an associate when she overheard Mona informing Stacey that she would be gone for a longer than usual lunch. Does she even have to announce that? she wondered, giggling to herself, that’s an everyday occurrence.
