Darkness Descends: A Skye Faden Novel

by Alisha Ashton

  “This yours, sweetheart?” He taunted up at her through fangs.

  She arched a brow.

  “Yeah... but so is that,” she offered in amusement and pointed directly behind him.

  “Right, like I’m gonna fall for –” the vamp began, only to gasp and stare at her in astonishment as his form rapidly disintegrated. As he fell to ash, the mohawked stranger that had staked him (whom Skye still did not know by name) took a step forward.

  “Nice moves, ‘sweetheart’. What are you like the ‘Karate Chick’?” Miko teased as he tossed her stake and vest up to her.

  “None of my moves are karate,” she advised with a smirk before he was tackled from the side. “Ooh, careful ‘sweetheart’,” she taunted and watched him fight off the attack.

  Miko was, in fact, a brawler. He threw a positively brutal right hook. It was his strongest move, packing enough power to shatter jaws. She decided that this guy must have been street fighting since he was a kid. He seemed to take pleasure in it, like letting loose was a throwback to his childhood. Thankfully, he did not exhibit any of a rookie’s fatal overconfidence. Most people who learned about the vampires’ existence and decided to fight back only lasted a matter of days before dying. A great deal more died before a month had passed. The problem was, after killing a few undead beasties, one tended to get cocky. Miko did not have that problem. He only fought them long enough to plant a stake in their heart and then moved on.

  Skye, on the other hand, was cocky – but it was intentional. She had a death wish. Unfortunately, no matter how brazen she became, she just kept winning.

  Sighing at that fact, she turned and watched with disinterest as a female bloodsucker rushed her. It made the mistake of throwing the first punch. Skye quickly sidestepped the extended fist and got behind the vamp, wrenching its arm backward until it dislocated. She snatched it by the hair, smiling cruelly as it screeched and bared fangs.

  “Aww, kitty wants to play?” Skye taunted.

  After bringing her stake down into its stomach, she immediately withdrew it and sank it deeply into the creature’s back. The shrieks that followed were intoxicating to Skye, like returning a small amount of the pain that she had been given. Grabbing the vamp by the throat, she brought its face so close to her own that she could feel its cool breath on her skin. She gazed into its dead eyes as she pierced its heart. Savoring every ounce of its anguish, she held it as it fell to ash.

  Once it was gone, she stepped forward to pluck her next prey from the crowd... and then another, and another... The violence of it all was delicious to her, like a living portrait of her nightmares. She should have been in ecstasy. It was almost over...

  Yet something was distracting her from her release.

  There was something calling to her, a gnawing feeling that she was missing something. Her eyes darted around the club, searching for the cause. She found it abruptly. Against the far wall stood a man, the only motionless being in her moving masterpiece. Wavy, chestnut brown hair reached his shoulders, sun-bleached blonde streaks ran throughout. His eyes, though too far away to perceive the exact color, were so intense that she could suddenly focus on nothing else.

  When their gazes met, she felt dizzy. The rest of the club seemed to slow in her perception as her vision dimmed. It felt as if she were going to faint, as if something in her mind was struggling to break free. She drew a labored breath, wincing as she tried to shake it off. The strangest sensation was sweeping over her that she was staring into the face of her future, of her past, of her destiny... of a life that had yet to begin.

  This stranger’s presence signified change. Somehow, no matter how impossible, she knew that their meeting was fated.

  And she was so involved in the mysterious connection she was feeling that she failed to perceive an impending threat. With an ear-piercing screech, a vampire attacked her from the side, knocking her to the floor with it. Skye glared into its dead eyes as she fought for control. She was not afraid; this one was far too young to pose any real threat to her. She was simply irritated that it had jarred her from the feelings the stranger was inflicting. Rolling the bloodsucker over onto its back, she made quick work of staking it. The other vampires were surrounding her now, seeking to use her distraction to their advantage. She dropped back onto the ground, spinning across the floor and kicking their legs and knees out from beneath them with bone-snapping force.

  She was back on her feet again in a matter of seconds, eager to return her gaze to the stranger. When she focused on him, she was surprised to find that he had not made a move to attack or approach. He seemed content merely watching intently as she fought. A pleased smile was spreading across his lips. His presence was completely unlike any vampire Skye had come up against. She felt... inexplicably drawn to him. There was something familiar about him that she could not hope to define.

  When another vampire leapt for her, she quickly dispatched of it and decided enough was enough. It did not matter that the man watching her so intently made her feel differently than the others. He was not human, of that she was positive. In her mind, that made him fair game. Tearing through wave after wave of the blood-drinkers, she focused on one thing – destroying him.

  No, not ‘him’, she corrected in her mind, this thing that seems so confident of its safety. Arrogant bastard, she thought, I’m going to enjoy this.

  With lethal intent, she closed the distance between them.

  He’ll be the last one, she hoped in vain. Once he falls, I’ll be released from this hellish existence.

  Across the club, Aiyana stole a glance of Skye’s location. When she spotted whom Skye was stalking toward, her eyes widened in horror.

  “Miko!” She screamed frantically over the chaos.

  After taking out the vamps closest to her, she managed to direct his gaze to Skye.

  Miko’s heart skipped a beat.

  “Eh, fuck!” He screamed to no one in particular and struggled to be heard over the shrieks of the dying vamps. “Stop! Skye, don’t! He isn’t one of them!”

  Skye heard Miko’s screams, but it did not matter now, she was seeing red. She leapt onto the creature, sending it toppling to the floor with her. By the time they landed, she was already straddling its chest. And just as quickly, she realized that something was wrong.

  Fatally wrong.

  Fighting vampires was difficult – by all rights impossible without the proper training or exceedingly good luck. She had learned their weaknesses, had years of experience taking them out.

  But this was something entirely different. Even with her atop of him, he effortlessly blocked every punch that she threw. The smile never left his lips as she attacked him with everything she had. He did not seem interested in fighting her. He simply gazed up at her with unnerving admiration in his eyes.

  Miko and Aiyana fought desperately to reach her. They knew she must have mistaken the man for a vampire. It was the only explanation. No one in their right mind could possibly expect to take on one of his kind with their bare hands and survive.

  Skye found herself on her back before she could react. Panic surged through her at the ease with which he was overpowering her. His abilities and strength indicated that he was an ancient – at least a few thousand years old – but when he ran the backs of his knuckles tenderly across her cheek, she found something unexpected. She stared up at him in bewilderment. His hands were warm. He could not be a vampire. He was living and breathing... but also ancient? It made no sense. Her brows drew together. Her panicked eyes conveyed the level of confusion she was experiencing.

  “Hush now. Ya needn’t be frightened, my sister,” he whispered soothingly in her ear before smiling down at her again.

  She could barely hear him over the chaos around them, but did not get the chance to ask him to repeat it. All that she could do was watch helplessly as his teeth shifted to those of a wolf. Even as she shrieked and fought frantically to get away, she knew it was no use. His body was growing impossibly heavy, his clothing
tearing away and flesh stretching to accommodate his rapidly changing form. Her mind began shutting down in terror – understanding what she was witnessing, yet refusing to believe it. Her thoughts could only offer one useless word repeatedly.

  Werewolf... werewolf... werewolf...

  So, this was it. After everything that she had been through, every time she had survived against all odds, she was going to die at the hands of an evil she never even knew existed. Funny, after the vampires, she had thought she knew it all.

  With the transformation complete, the beast’s eyes still held that same horrifying reverence for her.

  The world seemed distant suddenly, surreal. All sounds just faded away, save the heavy breathing of the beast and the whimpers escaping her as she stared into the face of her death. Pinning her in place with the shear mass of his body, he brought his mouth down around her shoulder.

  She heard herself gasp as his teeth sank into her flesh. The sickening sound of bones crunching and popping under the power of his jaws brought her out of her dazed state – leaving her completely conscious through the pain.

  Her eyes opened wide, staring up at the ceiling unblinkingly as she slipped into shock.

  Someone was screaming for backup...

  People were running toward her...

  Shots were being fired...

  The world faded to blackness as his teeth sank deeper into her shoulder.

  4: Headfirst

  Her eyelids felt weighted. Her body refused to move despite her commands for it to do so. Days passed and still she lay there, completely immobilized by the painkillers being pumped into her.

  There were voices. Machines beeped relentlessly. A woman was by her side. Skye could smell her, feel her holding her hand and smoothing her hair, hear her speaking reassuringly. She knew there were men in the room by scent alone.

  Her only escape from the prison of her body was her dreams. She dreamt of the full moon, of running wild and free in its light.

  A man waited for her there...

  White fur... golden eyes...

  Trees swept by as she raced on through the night...

  “I know ya,” he whispered lovingly...

  She could see his smile...

  Feel his chaste kiss on her cheek...

  A woman sat alone, staring up at the moon...

  She was singing a forlorn tune in a strange language...

  Rocking with her arms drawn around herself...

  Sadness surrounded her...

  Something had been stolen...

  “I have sensed ya,” the woman whispered...

  “They kept ya in the dark...”

  Skye struggled to see her, but the images raced on.

  Two men...

  She could not see their faces through the fog...

  Gray eyes... blue eyes... both adoring...

  “And so the Trinity binds,” she heard herself say...

  She felt whole... warm, safe, loved...

  Her eyes fluttered rapidly beneath their lids as the dream unfolded. She moaned, thrashing in the unfamiliar bed, trying to leave behind the mortal coil that prevented her from reaching these places and feelings.

  The men were speaking to her...

  The same strange language...

  She could not understand their words...

  But she knew they beckoned for her...

  She needed to reach them.

  “It is where you belong,” she heard herself say.

  “Time to wake, wee one,” a man whispered in her ear...

  His accent was so thick, so beautiful...

  She did not want to leave him...

  “Skye, love... ya must wake now,” he insisted...

  At his words, all at once and without warning,

  It was over.

  She gasped for air as she sat up bolt-straight in the hospital bed, staring up at the ceiling with wide, terrified eyes. Like leaping into icy waters, the world and all its harsh sensations flooded her perception, drowning out the comfort that she had found in her dreams. The IV pole that she was attached to crashed to the floor beside the bed, ripping tubes from her forearm as it went. The sound of it was deafening. She hissed in pain, covering her ears and squeezing her eyes shut.

  And it all came rushing back.

  The memories were disjointed, overwhelming, and random as they filled her mind.

  She saw the bodies of her parents... the pools of blood... the fire and death left in her wake as she escaped so many years later. The deaths of her brothers, Gavin and Marcus flashed by in a blur. She could hear their sobs... their pleas for mercy... for forgiveness. She saw Adrian die by her hands, the fighting, the tattooed stranger... and then...

  With panicked realization, she reached up to her shoulder. She traced her fingers over the bandages that served to confirm her memories.

  “Werewolf,” she whispered as she opened her eyes. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her mind was clinging to the last rational thought it had formed before she had lost consciousness.

  That is, if you could call it rational to know that you were dying from the bite of, or changing into, a beast.

  Beyond the room’s formidable-looking door, she heard the sounds of boots on linoleum, all racing in her direction. She spun toward it quickly, eyes wild and crazed. As the door swung open, she jumped from the bed. Instinctively, she backed into the corner and hunched down, holding her hands up and preparing to lash out. Part of her took note that she was only wearing a hospital gown, but she did not care at this point. It was all happening too fast. It was too bright, too loud, too confusing to take in.

  Thoughts came in fragments, nothing more than disorganized bits of information. Her only clear need was self-preservation.

  Several white-coats rushed in.

  Doctor types – scientists, even.

  Seeing her alert and ready to fight, they stopped dead in their tracks. They eyed her like a wild animal as they backed away. Before she had time to speak, one of them triggered an alarm. Sirens began wailing throughout the building. Skye cried out, covering her ears again. The sound clawed at her skull. She knew her hearing was far too sensitive, but desperately tried to attribute it to the meds.

  Like a hangover...

  Armed men raced into the room. She counted them as they entered – assessed the level of threat that they posed to her. She could take them down before they got a round off, she realized. Somehow, she knew it to be true.

  Where am I, she wondered?

  As they moved in with weapons drawn, it was strikingly apparent that this was no ordinary hospital. These people were militant and extremely organized.

  Like the ones at the club...

  As if answering her thoughts, the man with the Mohawk and tattooed scalp walked through the door. A look of concern was painted across his once carefree face.

  “Skye...” Miko began softly while holding his hands up to convey that he meant her no harm.

  She did not trust him, though, and hoped for his sake that he would realize it. Opening her mouth to speak, she was shocked to instead hear a low, guttural growl of warning escape her lips. Guns on all sides cocked and took aim in response. She locked eyes with Miko intensely. It did not make a difference if they shot her. Live or die – it was all the same to her in that moment.

  But before things could turn bloody, movement behind Miko caught her attention. Her eyes flicked over his shoulder. A woman, the one that had given her the blade in the club, stepped into the room. Skye’s gaze met the dark, exotic eyes of the stranger that had shown her kindness without cause. She took in the woman’s long, dark hair and bronze skin, trying her best not to look as intrigued as she truly was.

  “You don’t need to fight here, Skye,” the woman said gently. “We’re only trying to help.”

  Skye inhaled slowly through her nose and caught the woman’s scent. This was the same woman that had held her hand and spoken to her as she slept. She took a deep breath and tried to control her violent side long en
ough to speak. It was so much stronger than it had ever been before. It wanted out of this room, out of this building... and these strangers were standing between it and the exit.

  “Who are you?” Skye finally managed through clenched teeth as her eyes darted around the room to the men. “And where am I?”

  Aiyana came closer and – much to Skye’s confusion – sat on the floor. She lowered her gaze to the tiles in front of her as she answered. With that simple gesture, she had managed to eliminate herself as a threat.

  “My name is Aiyana. You are in one of our bases. We have them all over the world. We call ourselves the Ashers because we kill vamps. That’s why we were at that club.”

  Short, sweet and to the point.

  Skye felt her body trying to relax, but there were still threats present. Despite her wish to focus solely on the woman in front of her, her eyes wandered back to the other people in the room.

  Miko shook his head, sighed, and motioned for the men to leave with the doctors. He would never cease to be amazed by Aiyana’s ability to read people. The door closed behind the others and he moved to Aiyana’s side slowly, taking a seat on the floor beside her and following her lead by not making eye contact. Was it the safest or sanest course of action? F to the Uck no, but it seemed to be working for Aiyana, so why not?

  Skye stood still for a moment, watching the two and trying to read their postures. It could be a trap, the fragmented voice in her mind warned with more clarity than usual. She stole a glance at her shoulder and found that it was healing well. Who would tend to a person’s wounds when they were just going to kill them? Further investigation revealed that the deep gash across her bicep – the one that she had stitched closed before leaving New York – had been re-stitched in a far more professional manner. Then again, anything was an improvement over her crude attempt. Not that it made a damned bit of difference on her body, but with the way these people had treated the wound, there would not even be a scar left behind once it healed. After mulling it over, she finally decided that it did not matter. If they were going to try anything, so be it. If she died, who cared? She had served her purpose. The threat that her brothers had posed to the world was gone. It had been her burden, her responsibility to put them down. She could die now with at least the knowledge that she had seen it through.