Redemption (Redemption Series Book 1)

by R.K. Ryals

  ~Bezaliel~

  My head was pounding, breathing hurt, and my entire body felt like I had been dunked in a vat of liquid lava. Where was I? I squinted and groaned. Even my eyes hurt. They were gritty and dry, and I forced them open as I turned slowly to take in my surroundings. My confusion grew as I noticed the mass of people surrounding me, the familiar setting causing my eyes to widen. What was I doing at Everett’s? An old image of my friends and I partying flitted through my brain.

  “Monroe?” I whispered hoarsely.

  My eyes scanned the dark room. A bar on the outskirts of Lodeston, Everett’s wasn’t an unsavory place, but it wasn’t somewhere you went alone either. My head swam as I squinted at the other patrons. Could I have come alone?

  Wait. No. What day was it? Glancing quickly down at the screen of a cell phone next to me, I shook my head to clear it. The date and time glowed neon. I started to reach for the phone as the numbers blurred together and almost fell over when a hand came down on it swiftly.

  “Hey!” the cell phone’s owner exclaimed before jerking it away and placing it soundly in her purse.

  “Nosy much?” she accused with a screech, and I flinched away with the pain the sound caused in my head. I didn’t reply. I had seen enough.

  It was my birthday and I was sitting on a stool in Everett’s in the early, still dark hours of predawn with a fuzzy head and what felt like a nasty hangover. I certainly didn’t remember getting here but looking at the large number of shot glasses in front of me, it wasn’t hard to figure out why. But even that didn’t make sense. I wasn’t much of a drinker. Especially after last year. And why was my memory of the past day a blank? My head began to spin wildly. Was I having one of those "uh oh" disoriented moments common to heavy drinkers?

  “Dayton?” a voice asked warily.

   I turned quickly but saw no one.

  “Dayton?” my brows knotted in confusion as the voice called out distantly again but I ignored it and shook my head hard. It didn’t help.

  Suddenly, I needed air. Needed it bad! A hand brushed my shoulder, but I waved it off and stumbled away from the stool I had been sitting on, not quite sure which direction I was going but knowing I had to escape the sudden fuzziness. I was suffocating! Whoa! The club lights were too bright, the air too hot, the bodies too thick, and I was disgustingly close to being completely and utterly sick. Ugh! 

  “Hey, watch it!” someone yelled angrily as I blurred past them toward the door, my head spinning as the lights around me coalesced into a fascinating halo of wavering colors.

  My heart thudded loudly. It was all so strangely beautiful and disorienting at the same time. And I fought to keep my focus as I battled the sudden strange urge to just lie where I stood, becoming as one with this new, overwhelming ambush on my senses—the rainbow of colors, the musky scent of sex, and the intoxicating sound of low moans that filtered just below the flow of screaming music. A stray arm brushed against my breast as I weaved unsteadily, and I gasped. My body was on fire, my breasts heavy, my thighs damp, and I cursed inwardly as I realized I was turned on by the music, by the cacophony of raw need that surrounded me from all sides. Oh sweet Jesus! What had been in those drinks? I really needed air!

  “Yo, hey now!”

  More angry exclamations followed me as I jerked towards the edge of the wall, stumbling over a pair of alcohol besotted lovers on the floor, their movements jerky but obvious. And I quickly averted my gaze, cheeks flaming as I groped for the door.

  “Sorry,” I muttered helplessly as my hand finally found the knob.  It wouldn’t budge. No! This was fucking ridiculous! I kicked at it but still it wouldn’t budge.  I shoved at it desperately.

  “Dammit!” I yelled as I pushed at it one last feeble time before finally throwing all my weight into the wooden frame, my hip burning with the impact as air suddenly gushed profusely against my face.

  Ahhhhh. Air! Wonderful. Soul searing. Life giving. Air. I gulped it down hungrily, drinking it, savoring it, indulging in every last merciful breath.

  And then I shuddered.

  Something wasn’t right. The air didn’t taste right. It was delicious but metallic, tainted warm and thick. The alley I looked up to find myself in explained most of the discrepancies, but something still tasted very wrong. Steam filtered fancifully through the narrow concrete passageway, and I suddenly felt very vulnerable, very alone and very afraid. The door behind me snapped shut, and I fought hard not to cry out. I had made a mistake.

  I was female, and I was alone after midnight in a dark alley. This was a bad combination. I shouldn’t have left the interior of the club. Every pore in my body cried out that I was in danger, but I stubbornly refused to believe I was stupid enough to have gotten myself into this predicament. No, I was smarter than that. Wasn’t I? Then again, being here at all, alone, meant I had been stupid. Dammit, why was I here? I inhaled sharply.

  The metallic air hit me again and I froze. I froze because I suddenly realized first what the odor reminded me of and secondly because the sound behind me sounded wet. Something was feeding. A dog maybe? A dog hopefully. Either way, it was in the alley with me and every nightmare I’d ever had and every scene from every horror movie I’d ever seen suddenly flashed through my head, and I cringed against the sudden surge of adrenaline. The alley seemed too narrow, the pale brick walls and dark gravel-filled pavement below pushing at me from all sides. There were only three exits: the door next to me, the street beyond, and a chain link fence behind me. I knew I wouldn't be fast enough to reach any of them. Any movement would draw attention. My heart beat so hard and so fast, I was afraid I would die of terror before I died any other nauseating way. No, I was being ridiculous. Dammit, why was I here?

  The memories suddenly hit, and I gasped. Aunt Ky, Mr. James, Amber, Sects, a building , angry words, robes, Amber again, Francine, Mott, a chalice, sacrifice, the car, the bar, the drink …Wait! Had something been slipped into my drink? Sweet Jesus! I had been drugged! Of course! And if I had been drugged then maybe I was hallucinating! Dear God!

  A feeling of betrayal swamped me as I struggled with the images rushing through my head. I almost cried out at the pain that tore at my heart until I remembered I wasn’t alone and that whatever was behind me was hungry and feeding. The sound continued, and I realized quite dejectedly that the only thing I could do was turn around. It was truly the only option I had.

  “You reek of fear,” a voice spoke suddenly from behind me, and I squeaked.

  Oh my God! I wasn’t alone. Duh! Of course I wasn’t alone. I had known that, had hoped, however, for some sort of deliverance. Not likely, I realized now as I felt the power of the man behind me slam into my back, encompassing every inch of my body. I swallowed hard.

  “Who are you?” I stuttered uncertainly, my voice hoarse from fear. I didn’t just reek of it, I was fear. The "voice" behind me chuckled.

  “Or rather, what am I?” he intonated softly. I cringed.

  “Please. . .”  I began, trailing off as a pale hand suddenly gripped my shoulder in crushing cruelty.

  The impact of the wall was barely noticeable, it happened so fast. One moment, I was standing in the middle of the alley, the next; my head was slammed up against a brick wall, warm blood trickling unpleasantly into the collar of my shirt. And then I saw him—dark, ominous, huge. He was dark and he was light, his outrageous height accentuated by a long, ebony leather jacket. His hair was black as obsidian in the night, his face pale as snow in comparison. It was Damon Craig. But then it wasn’t. No, this man didn’t have the scar. I stared dazedly, my eyes traveling his face in fascinated horror. It was the contrast between his pale face and his mouth that brought on the harshest reality of all. Blood glistened from elongated canines jutting threateningly from a slightly opened mouth.

  “I am Eternity,” he breathed.

   His breath was metallic and behind him lay the dazed looking figure of a scantily clad woman, flushed as if in the heat of unimaginable p
assion. She moaned, and I fought the urge to panic. Holy crap! He was Death. And I was the sacrifice. It all made sense now. My mouth widened on a scream that never came as my gaze met his. His eyes were the most appalling of all. I knew suddenly what he was though my brain had a hard time wrapping itself around what it saw.

  “Are you going to kill me?” I whispered as he rubbed my hair lovingly before pulling his hand away from the back of my head. I hadn’t even seen him touch me, but there it was. My blood. My blood and his hand. And he looked delighted by the crimson liquid as he slowly brought his fingers to his mouth, his gaze never leaving mine as he sucked at them hungrily. I was fascinated despite the pain and fear as I watched, wondering suddenly if hallucinations could be so devastatingly real. He suckled and I watched. Fascinated. Was that really my blood?

  My blood, his hand, his mouth, his eyes widening . . . he stopped. Something was wrong. He growled before suddenly spitting my blood loudly into the dirt at my feet. And then he snarled.

  “Fuck! You bitch!” he accused angrily as black spots wavered dangerously in front of my eyes. This was it. I was dying.

  “What?” I managed before darkness overtook me. Overwhelmed me. Consumed me. Somewhere in the distance I thought I heard him. Thought I felt him swing me effortlessly upward, even thought for a moment we were flying. But no. That would just be absurd.

  “Bait. Damn you, Damon! I ought to have known it’d come to this.”

  Had he spoken? Did it matter? This was, after all, Death.

  Chapter 15

  The Other is a part of her now. I did not forsee this coming, and I am afraid. What does this mean?