Blood Stained Lives (The Blood Stained Saga Book 1)

by Ronald Griffin

  “Easy there, butter slayer. Actually, no. This story is more current and has different characters in it. They were inspired by two very special people.”

  He cuts into his pancakes and shovels a forkful into his mouth.

  “Who are they?” he asks with his mouth full of pancake.

  “Your parents.” she says turning serious.

  He starts chewing slowly becoming more thoughtful at her words, and then wipes his mouth with his napkin. He doesn't remember much about his childhood with them: just a few happy memories and the horrible nightmare of the night they died. That night he remembers vividly, even though people kept telling him that he imagined things.

  “I know they were taken away from you before you could really get to know them. So I thought this would be a good way for you to get to know them better. I'm writing this book for you so that you can have your parents again.”

  He scoots his chair closer to her and embraces her in a big, tight, loving hug.

  “I already have a parent. You’re the best mother I could ever ask for.”

  She hugs him back as a few tears fall from her eyes at his kind words. They finish eating and she starts to clear the table, but he stops her.

  “I'll clean up this time,” he says with a smile.

  She smiles back and just nods before walking into the next room. As he begins washing dishes, she sneaks away to her room and carefully opens the door and closes it gently behind her so that he doesn't notice. Then she reaches under her bed, pulls out a box, and opens it. Inside the box are Michelle's journal and some Polaroid pictures. She removes the pictures and looks at them, enjoying the memories. Most of the pictures are of Michelle and Chase, while the others are either group photos with others or pictures of wolves. One is a large black one, a petite white female one, one with light gray coloring that borders looking like silver, and an average sized brown one. She starts getting tear-eyed looking at the pictures, having doubts of herself: if she can teach him everything he needs to know; if she can really do it alone. Will there ever be a good time to tell him?

  “I miss all of you, and I wish I knew what to do,” she whispers sorrowfully to the silent room.

  Namon knocks on her door.

  “Just a minute, honey.”

  She quickly closes the box, and slides it back under the bed. Wiping the tears away from her face, she opens the door.

  “You ready to go, son?”

  “Yeah, as ready as I will ever be.”

  She gives him a gentle, playful nudge on her way through the door. They get into the car, leave the apartment complex of Whispering Woods in North Macon, and head downtown. Thoughts spiral through her mind as she drives. Writing the book and letting him read about his parents and what they were like and what happened will prepare him. What is the right time, though, to tell him that the events are actually true? Would he laugh and think it’s a joke? I will more than likely have to phase myself just to convince him. Whatever I do, I need to do it fast because he won’t stay seventeen forever.

  They pull up into the parking lot and get out of the car. Everyone greets them with big smiles as they enter, passing by the priest, and he shakes Namon’s hand just as he does every Sunday. Namon takes notice that everyone is staring and whispering at him like they always do.

  “Do you think they are gossiping about us because you’re my mom?” he whispers to Katrina.

  “No sweetie, I'm sure it’s nothing. Now come on and let us sit down,” she says soothingly.

  In Central City Park protesters block the entrance to keep bulldozers from entering the park. A sign is posted right beside the entrance, which reads Private Property. Keep out! Future site of Wilmington Manor. Citizens are outraged at the fact a billionaire could just move into the city and just buy a public park, especially one with so much history. Some of the protesters have even gone as far as to chaining themselves up to the trees in the park. The police show up to keep the peace and shortly behind them the mayor shows up in a black stretch limo. He manages his way out of the back of the limo, walks over to one of the police officers, and takes one of their megaphones. Placing it to his mouth, he begins to speak, “Please, citizens, return to your homes and let these men get to work. They have a lot of work to do here, and the sooner they get done, the better.”

  “No way! This is our park! You can't just sell it to some big shot with a lot of money!” one of the protesters yelled.

  “I know you may be unhappy about the park being sold, but believe me when I tell you that it is for the good of our city.” He begins to badger the crowd with questions, “How many buildings are just falling apart? How many gangs are defiling the newer ones? How many of you would like the crime rate to drop in our city to drop in our city, and how much do you want to feel safe when you go out at night?” trying to elicit a sympathetic response from the crowd. “The money received from the purchase of this park will go to correct all of those issues I have mentioned and many more unmentioned.” New jobs will be available, and the unemployment rate will decrease. It’s much better for our economy, I promise each and every one of you,” he confidently concludes.

  “The only thing that money is going to benefit is your pocket, you fat ass bureaucrat!” someone else snarls before rushing toward the mayor with a knife drawn.

  One of the police officers reacts quickly and disarms the man, twisting his arms behind his back and placing handcuffs on him. As the officer places the man into the back of his police cruiser, a riot breaks out, at the obvious injustice at the sale of a historical property, and the treatment of the protestor. The mayor rushes to the limo in fear, scrambling to get inside. As the car is swarmed, the mass of people starts pounding on the limo, pushing and shaking it back and forth. The few police that are there are overwhelmed and retreat inside their vehicles as well, but one of them calls the dispatch for back up. Minutes later SWAT appears in riot gear and starts pushing the crowd back.

  “Get the mayor out of here!” yells the SWAT leader.

  One of the other officers helps the mayor out of the limo and into his police cruiser and drives away from the park. Mayor Bowman looks out the back window to see the SWAT team using tear gas to subdue the hysterical crowd.

  “Holy shit, they almost got me! Thank you for saving me. I would be dead for sure if y’all hadn’t show up,” his voice trembles with fear.

  The officer just continues driving, glancing back in the rear view mirror.

  “They are right, though,” the officer responds after a few silent moments.

  “How could you sell a public park? Is that even legal?” his tone bordering on disrespectfulness.

  The mayor doesn't respond, but just rubs his chin, and stares thoughtfully out the window on his side. He wonders to himself if he really made the right decision. Maybe he should rethink the deal with Cyrus Wilmington. What does he know about him anyway, other than he’s loaded? Why does he want to build a mansion in the middle of Central City Park, and why would a billionaire even move to Macon of all places? The mayor’s greed had blinded his judgment and now he was questioning his decisions. Maybe I should cancel the deal and give him his money back.

  Later that night, a man stands in the center of the park talking on his cell phone. He is standing six feet tall with short brown hair with blond streaks. He is ruggedly handsome and you can tell that he pays a lot of attention to his body because it is well defined.

  “Yeah, the locals aren't happy, but I don't give a damn. The amulet is here in this city, and I need a base of operations. As soon as the mansion is built, send Aluana, so we can get her settled.”

  “Yes, Master Cyrus,” said the man on the other line. “So how are you going to manage buying a public property like that? The city officials or the public may be able to talk the mayor into backing out of the agreement.”

  A black car pulls into the park and slowly approaches the location that Cyrus is standing.

  “Do not worry. I have that covered,” Cyrus says into
the phone through glistening, pointed teeth. He turns around and turns the phone off. He walks over to the mayor and shakes his hand. “So you wanted to meet with me, Mr. Mayor?”

  “Yes.” The mayor doesn't look Cyrus in the eye, and just keeps his eyes mobile. “I do not think I can go along with this deal after all.” Finally getting the nerve to look Cyrus in the eye, “I mean, I was almost killed today!” He looks away again, “The people do not want this deal to happen, and they will do anything they can to stop it. I hope you understand and that there are no hard feelings.”

  Cyrus sighs and then shrugs his shoulders. “I guess you’re right. Money can't buy everything, right? No hard feelings.”

  He extends his hand and waits for the mayor to shake it. When he does, Cyrus snatches him forward, snarling, and spins him around. Then he tilts the mayor’s head aside and sinks his fangs deep into his neck. Sucking all the blood from the mayor’s body, as the mayor is on the verge of true death, Cyrus bites his own wrist and holds the bleeding wound over the mayor’s mouth; allowing his vampire blood to pour into the mayor’s mouth. After what seems like such a short time and many convulsions later, which the death of the soul and the rebirth into a vampire brings, the mayor’s eyes open and are as black as the night. Cyrus lets go of him, and the mayor begins to stumble then walk around of his own free will again. He then bows before Cyrus in a gesture of loyalty and respect for his new creator.

  “So you’re going to follow my wishes, correct?” Cyrus asks.

  The mayor nods his head in agreement. Cyrus then rubs his hands together and smiles the most evil of grins.

  “What would you like me to take care of first, master?” the mayor’s pleading voice sounds in the darkness.

  “Firstly, do whatever it takes to get my mansion built, and also call for a city council meeting. After I meet with them, they will all see things my way.”

  “What if they don't?” the mayor whines.

  Cyrus smiles slyly.

  “If they don't, then I guess we will just have a feast, won't we?”

  At Katrina’s apartment in North Macon, Namon has a huge bowl of ice cream and watches T.V. Well, it’s more like channel surfing than watching, since there isn't much on Sunday nights. Katrina walks into the living room and places a small stack of printed pages next to him on the couch. He picks it up and sees the title “Southern Heat: Chapter 1.” A big smile spreads across his face, and he is anxious to learn more about his parents.

  “So by reading this as you write, it will help me know my parents?” he says anxiousness clear in his voice.

  “Yes, and who knows, it may prepare you for your future.” Katrina says cautiously.

  He looks at her, puzzled.

  Breathing a sigh of tension she says, “Anyway, make sure you put your bowl away before you read it so that you don’t get anything on it.”

  “Yes Ma'am.” He nods.

  He hurriedly finishes eating his ice cream, gets up, washes his bowl, and quickly dries his hands. Rushing through the apartment, he snatches up the chapter from where Katrina laid it next to him a few minutes ago, and heads to his room.

  “Don't stay up too late. You have school in the morning,” Katrina calls from the kitchen where she cleaning up.

  “I won't,” he says as he shuts the door behind himself.

  He rushes over to his desk and turns the light on so that he can read.

  Chapter Two

  “Southern Heat: Chapter 1.”

  It was a day like any other day: high humidity, hot weather, and drama among the young students of Unity College. Under the shade of a tree, young Michelle Sawyer is resting against it studying for a test. She is a very bright girl with what most would consider average looks. She has had a rough past, and her future is soon going to get rougher.

  Lance Averett walks by and looks in her direction, flashing a friendly smile. She smiles back and watches him walk by, wishing that he would make a move on her. Lance is very attractive. He is tall, with an athletic build, muscular in all the right places, with the most amazing smile. His dirty blonde hair and bright blue velvet eyes have all the girls swooning over him, whenever he is around. She is just amazed he even looked over in her direction. The heat starts to rise, so she ties her long brown hair back into a ponytail, so that the breeze can blow on her neck. She looks back over to Lance as he walks over to his group of friends. One in particular that Michelle doesn't care for is Samayah. There is just something about her that she doesn't like, and she just can't quite put her finger on it. Maybe it’s just the fact that she is so close to Lance and hugging all over him. Disheartened, Michelle gathers her things so that she can get back to her dorm room. She probably has him under some evil spell just like all the rest of the men around here that stare at her. Samayah has an exotic look to her that the guys on campus can’t resist.

  As Michelle walks toward her dorm, a cold chill creeps up her spine and she looks around. You know that feeling you get when you’re being followed? Well that is what she is feeling right this moment. She turns around and sees a pair of glowing red eyes staring at her from a dark alley across the street. Panic stricken, she turns and runs as fast as she can to the dorms without looking back. She trips along the way, turns quickly, and starts crawling away until she looks back and doesn't see anything, but a few students staring at her with a why are you crawling on the ground look on their faces. She stands and wipes her hands on her jeans and pats down any dirt that may have gotten onto her clothing. It’s obvious, whatever she had seen was now gone, if it was even there at all.

  “Get a grip, girl. You’re letting your mind play tricks on you,” she says to herself out loud.

  Looking down at her watch, she notices that she only has a few more hours until she has to be at work, so she rushes to her dorm room to get ready for work and get some more study time in before she has to go to work. The whole way there she feels as if something is stalking her from the shadows. When she gets to her building, she quickly opens the door and rushes down the hallway to her room. After entering, she shuts it tightly and locks it.

  “Okay, I am starting to get way too paranoid lately.”

  She takes her shoes off and puts her book bag on her bed before removing her clothes and getting into the shower. While in the shower, she looks at her left forearm at the big scar that she’s had since her childhood and a flood of bad memories wash over her.

  Ten years ago, young Michelle was hiding behind the kitchen door, peeking in during one of her mother‘s and father’s arguments. Her dad had a serious drug problem, and Michelle could see the pain in her mother’s eyes along with the bruises on her face. She wasn't prepared for what came next when she saw her father pull a kitchen knife from the drawer and head toward her mother. At this point, Michelle got a surge of courage, rushed in the room, and got between her two parents.

  “No! Don't hurt my mommy!” she cried out.

  Michelle was caught in the crossfire as her father brought the blade down across her arm that she used to shield her mother.

  “Stupid bitch shouldn't have gotten in the way,” her father yelled as he threw the knife down on the floor and stormed out the door.

  “Daddy didn't mean it baby...he doesn't ever mean it,” her mother cries defending her father to her.

  Michelle stops the shower and gets out, toweling herself dry with tears running across her cheeks. She gets dressed and ready for another long night at work. She works as a waitress at her uncle Jeff’s bar ever since she was eighteen, and she has been a barkeep since she turned twenty-one. It’s normally slow and uneventful during the earlier part of the week, and she just hopes that this week won't be any different. She looks around for her jacket, but guesses that her best friend and roommate Katrina must have taken it.

  “Hmm, okay, well I will take her favorite red hoodie then.” Michelle said with a playful smirk, since the two friends snatched each other’s clothes all the time.

  Several hours later as she cleans tabl
es, her uncle is taking inventory in the back since they will be closing soon. While cleaning, she thinks to herself about the events in her life. What put her in this situation, having to work at a bar full of dirty old men to pay for her college tuition.

  She leans over a table, clearing away beer bottles, when a scruffy looking man walks up behind her, and starts rubbing her ass, startling her, and angering her.

  “So, sweet thing, how much would a night with you cost?” She stands back up, slapping his dirty filthy hands away, rolling her eyes as she walks away to put the bottles in the recycling.

  “Hey, I am talking to you!” he said very sternly before taking a drink from his bottle. He grabs her by the arm, and as he spins her around, she brings her fist around full force and decks him right in the jaw. Rage comes forward as she remembers times of her father grabbing her that way once before, so she grabs a bottle, and breaks it over the man’s head. As he staggers, and holds his now bleeding head, she pushes him against the bar, and presses the broken glass to his crotch.

  “Touch me again, creep, and you will walk away with two busted heads tonight!”

  Her uncle Jeff hears the commotion and rushes out to see what's going on.

  “Michelle! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asks.

  Tears swell up in her eyes as her hand holding the broken bottle starts to shake. “This son of a bitch put his hands on me and you know I don't like to be touched Uncle Jeff!”

  Her uncle remembers the day he went over to his sister’s house just in time to find Michelle’s father trying to rape her.

  “Okay, just let go of him, and I'll handle this sweetie. Take over inventory for me, okay?”

  She drops the remains of the bottle, and walks away after throwing a hateful glare at the filthy old beast, into the back wiping the tears away from her face angrily.

  “I'm going to sue this place, and both of you are going to be out in the street!” exclaimed the man still holding his throbbing bleeding head.