by Aaron Hodges
Paul was circling Ashley again. His face was bleeding from a dozen cuts and a dark bruise showed on the back of his neck. His chest heaved as he gasped for air. Then he bared his teeth, and his eyes seemed to darken. Chris saw him straighten, and realised he was about to attack again.
Before he could charge, Chris threw himself between them. Paul’s eyes widened and for a second he hesitated, taken aback by Chris’s intervention. Taking the opportunity, Chris twisted around and caught Ashley’s eyes.
“Go!” he screamed.
Then he turned back to Paul, and charged.
The surprise on Paul’s face turned to amusement as he watched him come. But Chris couldn’t turn back now. Fire lanced through his chest but he leapt at the larger boy. Twisting, he swung a fist at Paul’s face.
But Paul merely grinned and reached up to catch him by the wrist. Chris’s heart fell into his stomach as he was yanked forward into a crunching headbutt. White light flashed across his vision, and then he was falling. He hit the ground with a dull thud.
Blinking, he tried to clear his vision and regain his feet. But the strength had fled his limbs, and when his eyes cleared, he was still lying on his back staring up at the ceiling. His ears rang and he could hear distant voices, but before he could look around in search of them, Paul’s face appeared overhead. Their eyes met, and Chris saw his death lurking in the empty grey that stared back at him. Closing his eyes, he waited for the end to come.
Instead, there was a soft thud, and he opened his eyes in time to see Ashley tackle Paul, driving him back. Paul stumbled beneath the force of her attack, but Ashley was half his weight and the blow had only stunned him. Snarling, Ashley chased after him. Leaping into the air, she slammed her foot into his chest.
Paul was still recovering, and this time Ashley’s kick put him flat on his back. Before he could get up, Ashley raced in and stamped her boot down on his face. There was a sickening crunch as his nose broke, but before Ashley could retreat, Paul’s hands shot out and caught her by the ankle.
Ashley screamed as Paul surged upwards, lifting her foot with him to throw her off-balance. With Ashley’s ankle still firmly in his grip, Paul hauled Ashley’s leg above his head, and then slammed her face first into the ground. Releasing her ankle, he dove, attempting to pin her down and use his bulk to overwhelm her. But Ashley rolled to the side, her wings contracting, and Paul slammed into empty carpet. Coming to her feet, Ashley fixed Paul in her sights, and charged.
Still on the ground, Paul gaped at Ashley’s sudden fury. Her eyes remained the same tawny yellow, but there was a glint to them that reminded Chris of the rage he’d seen when Liz and Jasmine had turned. Yet this was different somehow, tightly controlled, as though Ashley had somehow managed to take all her pain and fear and insecurity and turn them into strength.
Paul managed to stagger to his feet before Ashley was on him. Her fist flashed out, and he raised his own to turn aside the blow. A sharp crack rang through the room as her knuckles caught his elbow. Paul screamed and holding his injured arm, he tried to retreat. But Ashley came after him, her amber eyes simmering.
A sickening crunch came from Paul’s skull as Ashley’s next blow caught him square between the eyes. His eyes rolled up into his skull and his mouth dropped open, but no sound came out. Slowly, he toppled backwards and landed with a soft thud on the carpet.
Ashley stood over him, chest heaving, her white wings trembling with each inhalation. Fists clenched, she watched him for long seconds. But Paul lay unmoving. His eyes stared blankly up at her, unseeing.
Chris managed to stagger to his feet and move across to her. She looked up as he approached, and the tension seemed to rush from her body. She sagged, and reaching out, he caught her as she started to fall. Pain burned in his chest, but he held her close and looked around.
There was no sign of Liz or Jasmine, but while the whole fight had lasted no more than a few minutes, their time was up. On the staircase, the last of the students had fallen. Now the plain-clothed soldiers poured out onto the stage, their guns held at the ready as they formed a semicircle around Chris and Ashley. A deadly stillness fell over the room.
Chris held Ashley tight against him. He couldn’t understand why she hadn’t fled with Liz and Jasmine, but he was suddenly glad to have her there. Together they faced the black-barrels of the soldier’s guns, and waited for death to come.
“On your knees,” the Director’s voice carried down to them.
Chris looked up and saw her slowly descending the stairs. His eyes were drawn to two silver bands she held in one hand. His heart clenched as he recognised the shock collars, and he felt Ashley’s grip tighten around his waist. A shiver went through him as he shook his head.
“Kill us,” he croaked. “We’re not going back.”
The Director’s face did not change. The soldiers still on the stairs gave way before her. As she reached the stage, she held up the collars. “They weren’t meant for you,” she nodded to the limp bodies of Paul and Francesca, “I removed them as a show of trust. But I liked to keep them handy, just in case.”
“Get it over with,” Ashley croaked beside him, “You can’t make us go back, so you might as well end this joke.”
“But who will replace my faithful servants?” she raised an eyebrow, “You’ve made such a mess of them, the least you can do is take their place.”
“Go to hell,” Chris stepped towards her.
Two dozen rifles lifted half an inch as the soldiers glanced at the Director, waiting for her order. Despite himself, Chris paused. Now that the end had come, he found himself suddenly wanting to draw out this moment, to savour every last breath of life.
The Director pursed her lips. She turned her back on them and looked up at the students. “They’re all traitors you know,” she laughed, the sound cold and hollow, “You know the punishment for traitors.”
At her words, the soldiers still stationed at the top of the lecture theatre swung the heavy double doors closed. The men on the stairs turned and pointed their rifles into the rows of chairs where the students huddled, open terror on their faces. Several cried out as the Director looked back at Chris.
“Don’t,” Chris croaked.
“Why not?” the Director raised an eyebrow.
“Please,” Ashley begged, and a smile spread across the Director’s face.
Lifting the collars, the Director tossed them down at their feet. “Put them on, and I will spare them.”
“No,” Ashley whispered beside him, but even as she said the word, she slumped to her knees.
Chris crouched beside her. They glanced at each other, and he could see the terror in her eyes. Then Ashley closed her eyes and swallowed. When they opened again, the fear had fled. Reaching out, she gripped Chris by the shoulder. Neither spoke, but Chris nodded. Together, they picked up the collars.
“Put them on,” the Director repeated.
Nodding, Chris steeled himself, and lifted the metal collar to his throat. He shivered as the cold steel touched his flesh, and he fought the urge to hurl the thing from him. Closing his eyes, he sucked in a breath, found the clasp, and pressed it together. The collar gave an audible click as it settled into place.
A pit opened in Chris’s stomach as he looked up at the Director. Another click came from Ashley’s collar, sealing their fate. Together, they met the woman’s gaze, helpless slaves before her wrath. She grinned again and lifted her wrist, showing them the controller she wore as a watch.
“You remember this?” she waited until they both nodded, “Good. Behave, and I won’t have to use it.”
Biting his lip, Chris stared down at the carpet, too afraid to do anything else. Despair welled in his chest, robbing him of strength.
“Excellent, you may yet prove useful.” The Director laughed. Chris flinched as the sound grated in his ears. “Okay, men, it’s time we finished with this mess. Kill them all.”
Chris’s heart froze in his chest as he looked up and saw the soldier
s taking aim at the students. A scream clawed its way up from his chest, and he started to his feet. A deafening roar filled the lecture theatre as the soldiers opened fire. He screamed again, and leapt at the Director, determined to tear her down.
Before he could take two steps, white fire wrapped around his neck, cutting off his shriek. His feet went out from beneath him as his muscles spasmed, and then he was on his back, his whole body convulsing as the boom of gunfire echoed through the lecture theatre. He opened his mouth but no sound came out. He thrashed, unable to breathe, to think, to do anything but listen as three hundred students were murdered where they knelt.
Only when silence returned to the lecture theatre, did the darkness finally rise to claim him.
Epilogue
Susan sucked in a breath as she looked down at the lights of the town. For what seemed like endless days and nights, the Chead had raced across the open countryside. She had run with them, revelling in her newfound strength. Light bled into dark, but it made no difference whether she travelled by the moon or the sun. At times, the red haze would sweep over her, but she embraced it now, thrilling in the power it gave her.
When they stopped for rest, she would find herself in Hecate’s arms, his lips beneath hers, and all memory of her past life would fall away. The voice in the back of her mind grew weaker with each day, until it seemed only a distant memory. She had become a creature of instinct, driven by need, by desire.
Now, darkness stretched out in all directions, except where the humans had built their homes. The ring of lights stood in defiance of the night, a cocoon protecting its occupants from the perils of the dark.
That was how the humans were, she knew. Scurrying away in the dirt, always hiding from the power of mother nature, from the wrath she might bring. But it was not mother nature they needed to fear, not tonight.
Tonight, it was their own folly that came for them.
She saw the truth now, saw the cruelty of their species, the lives they destroyed in their endless quest for power. How she longed to undo her past, to take back the evils she had wrought. Thinking of those strange memories, she found herself confused, no longer able to understand what had driven her before the red haze came.
There was only hunger now, the thirst for slaughter, the lust for her mate.
Hecate stood beside her, his scent lingering in her nostrils. It was intoxicating, like a drug she could not live without. Together they stared down at the little town, contemplating its distant glow. Movement came from around them. The full moon lit the hillside, revealing the gathered Chead. They moved across the grassy slopes, preparing themselves.
Returning her gaze to the town, Susan thought of what was to come. From deep in her mind, she felt a tug, a strange pang that seemed to come from another life. She shook her head, and it faded, the red haze rising to replace it.
A call went out across the hilltop, followed by slow, silent movement. As one the Chead slid down the hill towards the town and its unsuspecting inhabitants. Their faces took on a new light in the glow of the moon, so they seemed almost ghosts, the spirits of the things they had once been.
Humans.
The word rang in her mind, and for a moment Susan paused. The red haze flickered, and her breath caught in her throat. As she looked out at the lights, an image flickered into her mind. She saw a dimly lit room, a fire crackling in its hearth, a man and a woman in each other’s arms, and a child nestled up against their legs.
Pain seeped through her chest as she stilled. The image flickered, growing and then shrinking, as though struggling to exist in the darkness of her mind. She wondered where it had come from, what it meant, who they were.
“Are you… ready?” Hecate’s lips brushed against her ear.
Susan sucked in a breath, and the sweet scent of her mate filled her nostrils. She shivered as the red haze rose again, consuming the image in flames of rage.
I am yours.
Smiling, Susan looked up at Hecate. Today marked the beginning of a new age. Once lions had roamed the earth from Europe to Africa to America. Then had come Homo erectus, and the time of the lion had ended. Humanity had followed, creeping across the planet, extinguishing all that threatened it.
But now their time was ending. Another had come to take its place.
The age of the Chead had begun.
“I’m ready.”
Phase Three: Complete.
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Phase Four: REBELLION
Note from the Author
It’s not a trilogy! I know, crazy right? I don’t know where people kept getting that idea from, but I never said it would be three books ?? Don’t worry though, I know where the story is going, and how it ends. There’s just a few road blocks to get through first. Not to mention a bit of emotional baggage to work out between certain characters!
In all seriousness though, I hope you’re enjoying the series! I do intend to have the Praegressus Project finished by the end of 2017 (fingers crossed). Just be sure to keep leaving reviews if you’re enjoying it, they really do help keep me going! Every bit of encouragement helps??
Next up, in 2018 I intend to switch back to Epic Fantasy. And yes, that means more from the world of The Three Nations! I figure switching between my two favourite genres each year will be a good way to keep me from getting burnt out, and keep coming up with interesting new stories for you to enjoy!
As usual, don’t forget to signup for my mailing list for updates and the chance to win free stuff! And remember to join the discussion with other fans on my Facebook page!
http://www.aaronhodges.co.nz/praegressus-project/
AND FINALLY!
If you’ve enjoyed this book, you might also like my original works.
Be sure to read on below for a free preview of my first ever novel:
Stormwielder
When Eric was young, a terrible power woke within him. Horrified by the devastation he had unleashed, Eric fled his village, and has spent the last two years wandering the wilderness alone. Now, desperate to end his isolation, he seeks a new life in the town of Oaksville. But the power of the Gods is fading, and in their absence, dark things have come creeping back to the Three Nations. Civilisation is no longer the safe haven he once knew, and Eric will soon learn he is not the only one with power…
Read on below for a few preview…
Stormwielder: Prologue
Alastair stared into the fire, letting its heat wash through his damp cloak. The autumn storm had caught him in the open, drenching him before he could reach the shelter of a band of trees. The sudden violence of the storm was a grim warning of winter’s fast approach.
Thunder rumbled in the distance. Alastair shifted position, groaning as his old joints cracked in the cold. He added another stick to the fire. A greedy tongue of flame licked up the tender wood. Wind rustled the dark branches above. The fire flickered in the breeze and blew smoke into his face. Its feeble light cast dancing shadows across the clearing.
A head appeared in the trees nearby, its long face staring at him. Alastair gripped his sword and fought to control the pain in his chest. His horse snickered at his fear and retreated into the shadows. It was only Elcano, his constant companion for almost a decade. Shivering, he released his sword hilt. He knew all too well the dangers of the night. Once he had been one to stand against such things. Now, though...
He shook his head to clear the morbid thoughts. He was still a warrior, and creatures of the dark still feared his name. Yet lately doubt had crept into his mind. It had been a long time since he’d fought the good fight, long before the ravages of time stripped away his strength. The old man shivering at autumn shadows was but a spectre of the Alastair who had once battled the demons of winter.
“If only...” he whispered to himself. The words haunted him, carrying with them the weight of wasted decades. If only he had known, if only he had prepared himself. Instead the great Alastair had settled down and put the dark days beh
ind him.
Then two years ago, Antonia had come. She shattered the peaceful world he had built for himself and dragged him back into a life he had thought long buried.
“Find them,” she ordered, and he had obeyed.
If only it were so simple. Things were never as they seemed when she was involved. Two years of searching and he was now farther from the truth than when he started. The trail was ancient, his quarry adept at disappearing without trace. He himself had taught them the skills, but for generations they had perfected them. Alastair had tracked them as far as Peakill but there all trace vanished. For all he knew they were dead. He prayed to Antonia it was not so.
The wind died away and the chirp of crickets rose above the whisper of the trees. The fire popped as a log collapsed, scattering sparks across the ground. He watched them slowly dwindle to nothing and then looked up at the dark canopy. Through the branches he glimpsed the brilliance of the full moon.
Alastair gritted his teeth. She would come tonight. His hands began to shake; he had dreaded this moment for weeks. The sickly taste of despair rose in his throat. The world would feel the consequences of his failure.
“Not yet, there is still time,” the soft whisper of a female’s voice came from the shadows.
Antonia walked from the trees. A veil of mist clung to her small frame, obscuring her features. Her violet eyes shone through the darkness, making the firelight seem pale by comparison. Those eyes held such power and resolve that he shrank before them. The scent of roses filled the grove and cleansed the smoky air. Her footsteps made the slightest crunch as she glided towards him.
“It doesn’t matter. They’re gone and I don’t have the strength to continue. Find someone else to fight this battle, I’m done!” he lowered his gaze, unable to meet her eyes.
“There is no one else like you. You know that,” there was anger in the girl’s voice. “Look at me and tell me you would abandon everything we have worked for!”
