The Sun Child (The Sun Child Saga Book 1)

by Mihalitsianos, Monique

  For my soulmate.

  PART I

  “I will kiss him with the offreing of the lips according to the precepts engraved forever.”

  The Dead Sea Scrolls

  The Capture

  We follow the bastard.

  He’s about to commit another crime, just like he did six months ago, when he raped and beat a poor woman half to death.

  But we know about him now.

  Not tonight, fucker.

  Shadows dance on the walls against the moonlight as he carries an unconscious girl—couldn’t be more than fifteen, sixteen—across his shoulder. She has a nasty welt on her cheek, the kind that’ll turn into one of those formidable purplish bruises. Blood trickles from her nose. Her dress is torn at the top.

  “That’s our guy,” Kismet says, eyeing the man from a distance. He flings the girl into a corner of the alley, out of our sight. Kismet hands me a crumpled piece of paper.

  Capture

  Tall. Burlish. Scar near the mouth on his right cheek. Intention of committing rape for the sixth time. Tuesday, 11:54pm, Ave 178th…

  My eyes trail off the address and focus on the guy. He’s staring into the shadows, panting slightly…unbuckling his belt.

  I look down at my watch. “It’s 11:54 on the dot. Isn’t it remarkable that out seers are getting these things right lately?”

  “Impressive.” Kismet deadpans. “You ready?”

  I take a deep breath, fingering the knives tied to the sheath on the side of my leg. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  I pull her into a kiss, savoring that one moment of peace before the storm. You never know how these things will turn out. She pulls away first, looks down, bites her lower lip. A warm feeling wells up in the pit of my navel almost instantly... I take a deep breath.

  Later.

  We’ve got shit to do. “Follow me.”

  The scumbag is in the middle of pulling down his pants when he turns around and bares his teeth at us like a feral dog. “Who the fuck are you?”

  I unsheathe my knife and hit him on the side of the face with the handle. He grunts on impact and takes a step backward, then trips over his rolled-down jeans. “Mind your manners.” I say.

  He tries reaching his ankles to pull up his jeans and fumbles around on the ground in a mass of dirty clothes and pasty white skin. I turn away.

  “Daniel…” Kismet says.

  “Let him dress. I don’t want to bully a half-naked dude.”

  “No, Daniel, he has a…”

  A second later I hear the cock of a gun. Kismet sighs. I swallow once, and slowly turn around to face the barrel of a pistol staring down at me.

  “Not feeling so tough now, huh?” Spit flies out of his mouth as he talks. The crooked scar running from the side of his mouth up to his cheekbone captivates me for a moment—it grins, though he doesn’t.

  “Take it easy there, Joker.” I say.

  “What the fuck did you just call me?”

  My chin is rammed hard with the cold metallic side of the pistol’s barrel, hard enough for me to get mad.

  Really mad.

  "Provoke the crazy criminal with the gun, why don't you..." I hear Kismet murmur beside me.

  I cough up blood and stare at him, unblinking. “You shouldn’t have done that.” He tries to press down on the trigger, but I’m faster—I duck before the shot is fired and grab the gun from his hand in one swift motion. His forefinger presses down into thin air. Then he looks at me, fear creeping into his eyes. I point the gun to his temple. “One move and you’re dead.”

  He raises his hands and looks at me, eyes as wide as plates. "How... how did you move so fast?"

  “This is what we’re going to do.” Kismet says as she handcuffs him, ignoring his question. “You’re going to follow me. Daniel here,”—she points at me, and I take a little introductory bow—“is going to keep your gun lodged safely in the back of your head. Deal?”

  “Where are you taking me?” He says, voice suddenly shaking. I pull him up by his collar and push him forward, letting the barrel bite into the back of his neck.

  “To a place you’ve only seen in your darkest dreams.” I say.

  “Someone’s being dramatic tonight.” A voice says from behind us. I turn around, dragging the criminal with me, and peer into the darkness where the voice came from.

  A tall guy with loose-fitting clothes and scruffy hair is leaning on the wall of the alley, holding a lit joint. "Please, don't let me interrupt your oscar-worthy performance." He says before taking a puff.

  “Benedict.” I say, relaxing my stance. “How long have you been standing there?”

  “Not long.” He replies nonchalantly, but I don’t believe it for a second. “Beatrice asked me to give you another paper for tonight.”

  “Please tell me it’s not another Capture.” Kismet groans.

  “Nope. Recruitment.”

  We both groan this time. “I really don’t feel like kidnapping some kid tonight, Ben.” I say.

  “I’m messing with you.” Benedict says, smiling. “It’s a Mission.”

  “Oh.” I say, feeling a strange sort of excitement. Kismet’s eyes lock on mine.

  “Who are you people?” The rapist asks.

  “He speaks.” Benedict says mockingly. He walks toward us and pats the man on the back. The guy flinches.

  “Funny thing about humans.” I say. “They all do.”

  “Sometimes we forget all the amazing things humans are capable of, even nasty criminals like these.” Benedict says, eyes burrowing into the guy, who shrinks under his icy gaze. “Do you remember what it was like to be human, Daniel? The sorrows and the joys?”

  “Now who’s being dramatic?” I say, raising an eyebrow.

  He snorts, breaking character. “Unlike you, I have an excuse for it. Right now I'm ever so high." He chuckles to himself before handing me a piece of paper. "I’ll take it from here.” He grabs the gun and shoves the guy forward. “Don’t worry, my man. You’ll see the type of folk we are soon enough.” We watch them disappear into the night.

  Kismet takes a deep breath and grabs the piece of paper from my hand. “Leukemia." She says after glancing down at it. "A little girl. Her house is on Magnolia Avenue."

  "That's on the other side of town.” I grumble.

  She pockets the paper. “You ready?”

  “Someone’s in a hurry.” I murmur, all sulky-like.

  “What's with the mood swing?" She says, narrowing her eyes. "Wait, I know. You just remembered it’s my turn to have fun tonight, didn't you?”

  The side of my mouth goes up in a grin. “You know me so well, you little fox.” I say. “Have I ever told you I love you?”

  “Only about five hundred times a day.” She’s playing tough, but I can tell she’s blushing.

  I give her a soft kiss. A second later we’re gone… running at high speed through the night, dark buildings and shadowy streets passing us by in a blur. Superhuman speed… one of the best things about our powers.

  But the absolute best thing about them…

  Is the killing.

  The Immortal

  I focus on my breathing as I run, the only way to deal with the constriction in my lungs. All those late-night smoking sessions with Benedict have really fucked with my cardio.

  The adrenaline pumps through my veins as the wind flaps against my clothes and stings my exposed, sweaty skin. We don’t stop running until we reach the suburban part of Seattle and find the house we’re looking for. It’s an old house, its walls covered in vines. Kismet takes out the crumpled piece of paper from her pocket, reads it a
gain, and then hands it over to me.

  Mission

  3024 Magnolia Blvd W, 2nd floor. 5-year-old girl, early stages of leukemia.

  I look up at the house. “Yes. This is the one.” Kismet nods; her brows furrowing as she stares at the third-floor window.

  “Leukemia isn’t easy.” I say.

  “It’s the early stages.” She replies, crossing her arms.

  “Still…” I say. “It’s cancer.”

  She narrows her eyes at me. “Don’t even think you’re stealing this one away from me, Daniel.”

  “I just worry, babe.” I try not to smile.

  She rolls her eyes, uncrosses her arms, and takes a deep breath before climbing up the vine-ridden wall of the house. She’s cat-like and silent, and I watch her reach the second-floor window in amazement. “You’re a ninja.” I whisper up at her. She beams down at me, all warm smiles and twinkling amber eyes.

  “Is she there?” I whisper.

  She opens the window a crack, peers in, and then nods.

  “Do you need any help?” I offer.

  “No, I can do it, Daniel.” She snaps. “Thanks, though.” She adds, a little gentler this time. “I can heal her just fine, babe. Don’t worry, be right back.” With that, she lands softly on the other side of the window and slowly closes it behind her.

  I turn my back to the house and put my hands in my pockets. Now all I have to do is wait.

  I turn my attention to the rows upon rows of beautifully constructed, million-dollar oceanfront houses and garden sculptures facing the sea.It’s alien to me, this obsession with having the perfect residence. It probably has to do with the fact that I live in a shit-hole—literally—with the rest of my unfussy tribe.

  Then I look beyond the ocean shore toward the city skyline looming in the horizon. The light from the buildings and the Space Needle are the only things illuminating the starless night sky. The rhythmic lashing of waves beats down on the rocks, drawing me into a sort of peaceful stupor. I inhale a deep, salty breath of air and let it out again, allowing myself to relax a little…

  And then suddenly, a sharp shiver runs through my skin and snaps me out of my reverie. I rub my hands together, trying to keep warm. Still, the shivers run up and down my spine, making the hair on the back of my neck prickle. This isn’t normal. It’s not even that cold outside. My instincts are telling me that something is off, but what?

  The window creaks from above me, and I jump as Kismet lands beside me with a thud. Her cheeks are flushed, her temples slightly sweaty.

  “All set?” I ask her, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling inside me.

  “She’s healed.” She says. “And she didn’t wake up or anything like that; slept right through it all like a baby.”

  “Good.” I say, smiling at her.

  I like this part of Missions. It beats having to Capture a criminal, for sure. Giving a good person who’s sick or injured a second chance at life does tend to give you this warm, fuzzy feeling inside.

  But the truth is, we’re not the poster boys of supernatural freaks.

  Healing is good, Capturing is endurable, Recruitment is a nightmare, but neither of those things are the reasons I do what I do.

  My dirty little secret—the dirty little secret that I suspect my entire tribe shares—is that we all love the darker, more horrible part of our power more than we do the good part. Because even though it’s horrible, it’s also more satisfying. Fuck, satisfying doesn’t even begin to describe it.

  Glorious, orgasmic, rippling waves of pleasure…that’s more like it.

  I wish I could say I hate it. I’m not a monster, you know. But I don’t hate it. Nobody could hate something that feels that good. Nobody could resist it. If you think you can, it’s only because you haven’t tried it.

  Kismet’s flush dissipates, and her face starts getting pale.

  “Hungry?” I ask her tentatively, trying not to worry, but also trying not to think about what she’ll have to do next to regain the strength she’s lost—trying not to think about that oh-so-satisfying-better-than-healing-better-than-everything thing she’ll have to do next.

  She considers for a moment. “Tolerable.”

  “Your eyes aren’t glowing yet.” I say. “Which means you still have some energy left. Think you can make it back to the tribe in time?”

  “Y-yeah.” She stutters, hesitant. “But let’s not waste any more time.”

  I nod in agreement, and then we start running, becoming nothing more than shadows and blurs to the naked eye. I try to relax by focusing on the wind whipping around me, the perfect little picturesque houses and gardens of Magnolia Blvd W streaking past.

  “Stop!” Kismet yells and puts out her hand.

  I stop and almost fall forward. “What is it?” I whisper, crouching down at once and instinctively going into stealth mode.

  “Look…” She whispers, pointing to a tree in front of us. It’s standing in the middle of a lawn, and its branches are moving, even though there’s no wind. Innocent-looking enough to any bystander. It could just be a squirrel or a bat or something. But since we’re both Sun-Children, and we’re currently on what we thought was a very inconspicuous Mission, I just know it’s not a squirrel or a bat, or anything else that innocent.

  This is why I was on pins and needles as if freaking Freddy Krueger were out to get us or some shit.

  We’re being followed.

  I take in a deep breath to calm my nerves and focus my attention before standing up straight.

  “Come out.” I yell. The ruffling stops. For one second, I force myself to believe I’m just being paranoid, because I really don’t want to have to fight for my life tonight. But then a woman dressed in black, the color of our enemy tribe, the Immortals, jumps out of the branches, lands on the ground, and runs straight toward us.

  Color me delighted.

  No, really. This is the last fucking thing we need.

  I pull out my knife from the sheath tied to my leg and throw it at her, but she dodges it easily, and it hits the tree behind her with a loud thud, buried into the trunk up to the hilt. “Run!” I yell, but she is already upon us. We aren’t the only guys around with superhuman speed.

  The woman punches Kismet in the face and sends her flying toward the other side of the street. I gasp as Kismet hits the ground hard and grunts out in pain before going out cold. I turn around to face the Immortal, fury rushing through my veins. I know I am at a disadvantage, because not only are Immortals fast, like us, they are also strong… much, much stronger.

  But nobody hits Kismet like that.

  “Bring it on.” I say, my lip curling upward. I motion with my hands for her to come forward, taunting her. Her face is set and as hard as steel, and then she sneers. She jumps up, turns around in mid-air, and kicks. I duck just in time, take out my second knife, and stab her in the stomach.

  I push the knife in as hard as I can and then turn it. She yells out in pain and grabs me by the wrist, but I’m faster. I slip out of her grasp and take a few steps back, right out of her reach, grinning despite myself. I plunged the knife in deep, so I expect her to fall to the ground any moment now, completely incapacitated.

  Only she doesn’t.

  Anger flashes through her eyes, and then she smiles dangerously. My grin turns into an open-mouthed gape of disbelief as she grits her teeth and pulls out the bloodied knife, throwing it to the ground as if it were nothing more than a harmless old thing.

  “You think a little scratch is going to scare me, Sun-Child?” She croons in mock sweetness.

  Well, shit.

  Her expression turns rabid, and she punches me square in the chest, knocking the wind out of me. I roll down the hill behind me and onto the ocean shore, landing on my back and hitting my head against a rock. Pain shoots through my body as the cold saltwater stings my flesh, soaking through my clothes. I try to get up to face the Immortal, but everything around me spins, and I fall to my knees.

  Get a grip, man, come
on.

  But all I feel are icy cold daggers of saltwater digging into my skin and the unbearable throbbing in my head getting worse by the second.

  “You people just get younger and younger,” I hear the Immortal say from on top of the hill. “It’s almost a pity, really, to have to kill fledglings such as yourself.”

  I grit my teeth and manage to stand up and face her. She’s walking down leisurely, her stance relaxed, taking all the time in the world. It’s obvious she thinks I’m an easy kill.

  She better think again.

  “I have one question, lady.” I focus on her and will the world to stop spinning. She narrows her eyes and stops in her tracks. “Why do you call yourselves The Immortals?” I say. “I’ve killed so many of you, and none of you seemed to have the power to, you know, not die.”

  I’m bluffing, of course, because I need to buy some time. I’ve only killed one Immortal, about a year ago, and it was damn near impossible, too. Their name borders on cliché, but the Immortals are exceptionally hard to kill. Capturing common criminals is a walk in the park compared to this.

  She laughs a genuinely amused, hands-on-her-belly, arching-back type of laugh. “If that’s the best trash talk you can muster, then I’m disappointed.”

  I let a playful smile spread across my lips, goading her to keep talking.

  “But I’ll answer you anyway,” She continues. “Ever since your people sprang up out of nowhere, who knows how long ago, and decided to start healing and taking lives randomly with your powers—”

  “It’s not random.” I interrupt, my voice hard.

  Yeah, I might have a dark side. But having a dark side is very different from killing people randomly like a fucking psychopath.

  She cocks an eyebrow. “The hell it isn’t.” She whispers, the words rolling off her tongue like poison. I purse my lips and say nothing. It’s to my advantage she continue talking shit.

  As she babbles, I focus on the series of drills that I need to execute in order to incapacitate her. She took a stab to the stomach and didn’t even flinch.