A Shade of Vampire 60_A Voyage of Founders

by Bella Forrest

  “Whoever trapped us here seems to know something about our abilities,” I said.

  A loud clang tore through the hall. We all turned our heads to see a narrow door open, somewhere farther to my left. A tall figure walked in, the silhouette black against the yellow light coming in from the doorway.

  We stood still, listening to every sound, waiting for the creature to come into full view. When he did, my stomach basically hit the floor.

  He wasn’t just tall. He was downright the most beautiful creature I had ever seen—and I wasn’t one to say such a thing lightly. His hair was long, pale gray, and perfectly straight, combed down his back. His figure was mostly humanoid—like the rest of us, he had two legs and arms, a head and whatnot. His beauty was something ethereal, pretty much out of this world.

  His cheeks were high and sharp, his eyebrows arched and slim. The blade of his nose cast a dramatic shadow over his small, cupid’s bow mouth. His lips were pale, with barely a smidge of pink. His ears reminded me of the Dhaxanians, strangely pointed at the tops. But his eyes were the strangest I’d ever seen. One was a vivid green, the other a most intense blue. And they were both fixed on… me.

  He wore a white, silken tunic, covering his masculine figure. He wasn’t bulky, but he wasn’t slender, either. He was somewhere in between, and the soft fabric stretched over his toned muscles, broad shoulders, and narrow hips. Self-confidence beamed out of him, but not in a narcissistic fashion. This was a creature who carried great intelligence. I could see it in his eyes.

  He was calm, almost clinical. His lips stretched into a polite smile as he measured each of us from head to toe. I had to set my anger aside, even though it was bubbling up to the surface and pulling a curtain of scarlet red over my eyes.

  “Who are you?” I asked, my tone firm and demanding.

  I had to stand my ground, and he didn’t seem to mind. It didn’t even affect his posture or half-smile. He nodded once, his hands resting behind his back.

  “I am Ta’Zan Marduk,” he said.

  His voice made my insides melt. How was it possible for a creature like him to have such an effect on me? A quick glance over my shoulder made me realize that the rest of my group was equally entranced and stunned by his presence. Whatever Ta’Zan was, he was powerful. I could feel it, deep in my bones. That kind of energy was nearly impossible to come across. I’d never felt anything like it.

  “Why are we here? What do you want from us?” I replied.

  He didn’t answer this time around, but he kept his gaze fixed on me. His eyes were going to haunt me for an eternity.

  “It’s in your best interest to let us out,” I added. “We’re not the kind of people you want to keep in a cage.”

  “It’s not a cage. It’s a glass box,” he replied, quite matter-of-factly.

  “Semantics?! Seriously?” Lucas snapped and punched the glass wall in front of him. “Let us out, or, I swear, you will regret it!”

  Ta’Zan briefly glanced at him, then sighed and shifted his focus back to me. For some reason, I had a feeling I was the one he was interested in talking to.

  “I don’t respond well to threats,” Ta’Zan said.

  “Well, we don’t respond well to being abducted and crammed into glass boxes,” I shot back. My nerves were stretched too thin. “What do you want from us? Why are we here? Where did you come from?”

  “Why don’t you let us out, so we can talk about whatever this is peacefully?” Sofia interjected.

  “You drugged us, didn’t you?” Claudia crossed her arms as she scowled at him.

  “You’re using some kind of magic to keep us from getting out,” Corrine added. Coming from her, it was more of a statement, rather than a question.

  Ta’Zan ignored them all and kept his eyes on me. There was a glimmer of fascination in them. It set my survival instinct on fire, as I suddenly felt like a most prized lab rat.

  “You should really let us out now. The longer you keep us here, the stronger my urge to rip your throat out,” Lucas said, his tone clipped.

  “I thought I made myself clear,” Ta’Zan replied, deliberately ignoring him. “I don’t respond well to threats.”

  “And I thought I made myself clear, as well. Crystal, in fact. We do not belong in glass boxes,” I said, my hands balling into fists.

  Ta’Zan stepped forward, narrowing his strange eyes at me. The entire atmosphere around us shifted. The air was supercharged with that incredible energy of his. For the first time in a very long time, something clutched at my throat—something I hadn’t felt in years. Crippling dread. Whatever Ta’Zan was, he inspired fear, even to creatures like me.

  My instincts told me that I desperately needed a new approach with this guy if I wanted to get us out of here. I assumed that our people were going to come looking for us, but what if they couldn’t find us? What if he’d taken us off the planet, or hidden us so well and warded us with such powerful magic that we’d never be found? Part of me was already convinced that setting ourselves free was on us, and only us.

  “You should get used to this place, Derek,” Ta’Zan said.

  His reply cut my breath off. He knew my name. Quick reasoning reminded me that he’d taken us from the resort. There was plenty of stuff there with our names on it, including IDs and personalized leather items we’d had crafted on GASP’s thirtieth anniversary.

  “He knows your name,” Aiden whispered.

  “I know all your names,” Ta’Zan replied, staring at me. “Derek. Sofia. Xavier. Vivienne. Lucas. Marion. Cameron. Liana. Corrine. Ibrahim. Aiden. Kailyn. Claudia. Yuri.”

  “Congratulations. You remembered all our names. I’ll bet you’re a hit at parties,” Claudia muttered.

  “You should get comfortable,” Ta’Zan said to me. “You’ll be here for a while. I must say, I’ve never encountered specimens such as yourselves before. I don’t say this lightly… In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever said it with such pathos, but… I’m thrilled, I’m fascinated, and I am downright excited by the prospects of your genetic material,” he added, his tone still weirdly flat. “I look forward to working with you.”

  “Wait, what… what do you mean?” I replied.

  He didn’t answer.

  I dashed forward and pressed my palms against the glass. He stood a couple of feet away. The energy coming out of him felt even stronger and heavier, pulling my shoulders down. It was physically overwhelming to be so close to him.

  “What are you talking about? What do you want?” I insisted, gritting my teeth.

  “You will be fed soon,” he said. “I’ve lifted some genetic samples off you already. I’ve understood your dietary needs and restrictions. But you should all just calm down and get comfortable.”

  He turned around and walked back to the open door. His movements were so fluid, it looked as though he was gliding across the floor. The farther he got, the easier it became for me to breathe and actually focus.

  I opened my mouth to say something, but, deep down, I knew that none of my words would persuade him to release us. I knew nothing about him, yet he knew so much about us.

  He stopped in the doorway and gave me an over-the-shoulder glance.

  “This is your home now,” he informed us.

  “Wait, no—” I managed, but the door shut behind him with that loud, almost unbearable clang.

  Dread rumbled through my veins, making my blood thicken. I looked back at Sofia, my brother, my sister, my closest and dearest friends… and I had nothing to say to them. Nothing to comfort them or shed any light on our situation.

  I had no idea who Ta’Zan was or where he’d come from. I didn’t know how he’d captured us, or where he was keeping us. I didn’t even know if he was acting alone, or if he had help. The black eyes I remembered made me think he wasn’t operating on his own, but still, everything was so blank, so vague.

  There we were, our vacation on Strava dramatically cut short. Stuck in glass boxes with no way of getting ourselves out. A promise of fe
eding that would suit our “dietary needs,” which Ta’Zan knew about because he’d “lifted genetic samples.”

  It looked as though our lives had gotten us off the shelf, thrusting us back into the strangest and most troubling of messes. This wasn’t what I’d hoped for our Shadian founders’ club.

  However, the solution was clear: survive and get out.

  Ready for the next part of the Shadians’ story?

  Dear Shaddict,

  Thank you for reading A Voyage of Founders!

  The next book in the series, ASOV 61: A Land of Perfects, releases July 2nd, 2018!

  Pre-order your copy now for your convenience and have it delivered automatically to your reading device on release day!:

  If you’re in the USA: Tap here

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  I can’t wait to continue this new journey with you!

  Love,

  Bella x

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  Bonus “Sneak Peek”

  Keep turning the pages for a sneak peek of the first two chapters from my new action-adventure/romance story, The Child Thief, releasing June 11th 2018!

  Blurb:

  In a world where we have government of the rich by the rich for the rich…

  America in 2105 is beset with mass inequality, poverty and increasingly large numbers of the poor. This, combined with the breakdown of families and marriages has led to huge economic and societal burdens. A fractured and divided America ushers in an authoritarian government that promises to solve all these problems in one stroke with a radical solution.

  Welcome to the CRAS: the Child Redistribution Adoption System. Also known as the cure for America’s failing economy… and the bane of nineteen-year-old Robin Sylvone’s existence.

  Under the System, not all parents can expect to keep the children they bring into the world: families who are not self-sustaining have their children taken and given to the rich.

  And as a single teen mother, Robin fell within the scope of the scheme and lost her baby two years ago.

  After being forced to drop out of school and become a factory worker in order to support herself, she doesn’t see much light in her future—or hold any hope of seeing her child again.

  Until she stumbles upon a group of misfits who share her frustrations and desire for change. An underground movement that operates in some rather clever yet unconventional ways…

  By day they still call me Robin Sylvone. Factory worker and upper class reject.

  But now, by night, they call me Robin Hood…

  Brimming with action, mystery and romance, prepare for an imaginative thrill-ride through a chillingly warped America.

  Prologue

  I stood frozen outside my parents’ bedroom.

  Staring at the door handle, I tightened my grip around the breakfast tray I had prepared. I could hear the murmuring of the television seeping through the cracks of the closed door, and I wished I didn’t feel so nervous. I wished today was just like any other day I treated them to breakfast in bed… But it wasn’t.

  I had news to share with them this morning. News unlike any I had ever shared before.

  And although I had known them for sixteen years and ten months of my seventeen years of living, I feared how they were going to react. They had always treated me as if I were their own child, ever since the day the Ministry of Welfare took me from my birth parents and assigned me to them.

  But this… This was big.

  I tried to convince myself that everything would be okay. They loved me, didn’t they? They wanted me to be happy, right? They had always said so, and yet, with this, I feared I had gone too far.

  Still, I drew in a deep breath and moved closer to the door. I had delayed this for long enough already. It was time to come out with the truth.

  God knew I couldn’t wait longer than a couple more months, even if I wanted to.

  I repositioned the tray against my hip to free up one hand and then knocked boldly, thrice, with more confidence than I felt.

  “Come in,” my mother’s musical voice chimed through the cracks.

  Swallowing, I gripped the handle and opened the door, then entered with the tray.

  My parents were in bed. My mother, forty-five years young, a beautiful woman with long, dyed blond hair and eyes the color of a clear sky, had been watching the television, while my father, a tall, bald man of forty-nine with swarthy skin and a strong black goatee, was holding a newspaper in front of him. Even lying in bed, he exuded the confidence of one of the most important people in the United Nation of America: a governor, whose moral high grounds were as high as they came.

  “Oh, thank you, darling. What a treat!” my mother cooed as I approached her side of the bed. I set the tray down in between the two of them, then tucked my hands behind my back and stepped backward.

  “Thank you, Robin,” my father murmured, lowering the paper momentarily to pick up his coffee and a piece of toast.

  I nodded and tried to smile back, but it felt like I was wearing one of my mother’s solidifying masks.

  As they began eating, my toes curled over the silken rug, and I allowed my eyes to wander to the television screen, unable to resist the temptation of procrastinating a few minutes longer.

  “—latest report from the Ministry of Welfare was released this morning. Divorce rates are steady at 79 percent—a slight improvement from 2102—while the number of children born out of wedlock remains at 56 percent of the total number of children born. Government savings are up, thanks to continued implementation of the CRAS, while adoption admin fees continue to improve living conditions for low-income families nationwide. The CRAS has saved the UNA trillions in child welfare and foster services since the system’s introduction by President Burchard after the Crisis in 2082—”

  “You sleep well, hon?” my mother interrupted around a mouthful of fruit.

  And I was glad for the interruption, as the current news topic was doing nothing to help my nerves.

  “Yes,” I lied.

  “Are any of your siblings awake yet?” she asked.

  “Um, I think I heard Joseph and Lora. I’m not sure about anyone else.” The last thing I’d thought to do this morning was check on any of my seven younger siblings—not when we had two full-time nannies caring for them.

  “It’s going to be a gorgeous day, by the looks of it.” My mother sighed, glancing toward the sunshine streaming in through the wide French windowpanes. “You want to take the dogs for a walk?”

  “Um, yes. Sure. I just…” I cleared my throat, forcing myself to look from one parent to the other. I inhaled slowly. “Mom, Dad… There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

  They both paused in their eating, their eyes moving to me.

  “What is it?” my mother asked, while my father raised a dark eyebrow.

  A surge of blood rose to my face, and I suddenly felt too hot, even with the cool breeze wafting in through the window. I balled my fists together, trying to take a deep breath through my constricting throat. And then I closed my eyes and let it out.

  “I met a boy last year at summer camp. We… We’ve kept in touch ever since. He’s the reason I’ve been coming home late from school on some days, recently. I was going to tell you about him sooner, but… one thing just led to another, and I just… didn’t. I wish I had told you sooner now, though, because… things got a bit out of hand. I never planned for this, but… I’m pregnant.”

  It felt like I could have dropped a pin
onto the mahogany floorboards and heard it even over the television. My parents stared at me, their jaws slack.

  “What?” My mother finally found her voice, her fingers quickly moving to the remote to switch the television off. She gave a nervous laugh. “I’m sorry, Robin. Is this some kind of late April Fool’s?”

  I shook my head. “It’s not,” I croaked.

  She gaped at me, stunned, while my father maintained his shocked silence.

  I was most fearful about what he was going to say, and I was so desperate not to be one of the statistics I knew he so disapproved of—which was why I’d waited for Henry to propose before telling them. I’d thought he would… but he still hadn’t.

  And I just couldn’t hide my pregnancy from my parents any longer.

  I knew this was a big thing to ask my father to accept. Governors of the Burchard Regime were expected to have the highest moral standards, to be paragons of virtue that set an example for the rest of our lax society. And their families were considered reflections of themselves, their ability to influence and infuse good behavior in others—which, in my father’s eyes, was ultimately what defined a true leader.

  If he couldn’t even keep his own family in check, what did that say about him? He’d be gossiped about, and even if nobody said anything to his face, he’d be subtly looked down upon in his social circles.

  I knew the consequences, and I felt bad for letting him down, but what was done was done.

  His affection for me just had to be strong enough for him to swallow his pride and accept the situation. I had to believe it. Because I had a baby on the way, and a man I was deeply in love with.

  If he didn’t accept it, he could ruin everything.

  “Who is this boy?” my father asked, dropping the food and cup in his hands onto the breakfast tray and rising to his feet. The bedcovers slipped off him, revealing his full, tall, broad frame, the muscles in his arms visible even beneath his nightshirt.