Happy Friday! Today is the first day of my serial story, an exercise in me being consistent and doing something fun, just because. Note, this story is NOT polished. I will be posting a scene or chapter weekly. Expect an urban fantasy world. Romance and mystery. And magic, of course. Enjoy!
PROLOGUE
The bleak warehouse smelled stale and sour, as if something had died in a dark corner and continued to rot. Gray seemed to dominate the space, the time of day impossible to determine. With no windows, only cold, hard concrete pressing down from a high ceiling, and the floor impossibly far away, the warehouse felt unreal.
So strange.
I squinted, trying to figure out why my perception seemed off.
“Don’t you know that death is never the end? Not for one such as we.”
Such as we? I thought about correcting the disembodied voice but noticed my limbs chained, my body suddenly heavy, as if someone had turned on the switch for gravity.
What the heck?
I tried to move but couldn’t, bound in iron with no give, wearing nothing but a thick coat of blood. I was covered in the stuff but felt no pain. Not my wounds, then. But whose? And why the hell was I hanging from the ceiling, my arms and legs spread wide by chains that held me fast? For that matter, how had it taken me this long to notice?
Heat tickled the bottoms of my feet and grew stronger. The iron holding my ankles burned. My flesh started to blister. To cook.
I screamed, the pain unbearable as fire erupted around me and in me, the heat scalding with each excruciating breath.
Until the blaze vanished, leaving me trembling in a room suddenly devoid of warmth.
Unable to do more than hang in chains now turned ice cold, I felt my tired body knit, my burns disappearing until the bloodied stain of humanity covered me once more.
“Ah, all better now. Yes?” a deep, sibilant voice asked. “We’ll do this again. And again. And again. Until you give back what belongs to me.”
I couldn’t see his smile, but I felt it deep in my bones. And then he laughed, and the agony of incineration returned…
CHAPTER ONE
The scream was shrill, terrifying.
Mine.
As I jolted awake, I realized I’d woken myself up from yet another nightmare. Not that the gray morning didn’t inspire such gloom on its own. Still, I preferred cold and rainy to the fear-sweat covering my body.
Odd. Something about the thought of heat made me uneasy.
I shivered as cold air slithered over my shoulders, not wanting to but taking a look anyway. Yep. The wrong time on my alarm clock.
Oh, man. The nightmare continued.
I rolled out of bed, hurried to stand, and tripped on the loose clothing on the floor. I fell, slamming onto unyielding concrete, banging my elbow and hip hard enough to bruise.
Talk about a bad start to my already late day.
December in Pennsylvania could be crushingly cold. But here in the city, it was worse. Industrial buildings blocked the sun from my crappy efficiency apartment, and the heat—if you could call it that—felt like the dying breath of an old man gasping for life. Stale, cool air choked through my clogged vents. Too bad I didn’t know any fire elementals.
My snooze alarm went off, reminding me I didn’t have time to wallow in self-pity. Not if I wanted to keep my job and collect my desperately needed paycheck. After turning off the alarm, I hustled to get ready.
I absolutely hated rushing. But I was all too aware of the need for a speedy shower, change of clothes, and catching the bus so I wouldn’t be late to work. Again. My mornings usually saw me making a mad dash to grab the blueline as a last resort. Monday nights I worked the late shift at the neighborhood bar, and that lack of sleep followed me throughout the week. The pay sucked, but I normally got free wings by the bucket-load.
I looked around for my keys and didn’t see them. Opening up my senses, I felt with my mind and… There. My keys had fallen behind my nightstand. I scrounged on my hands and knees, feeling through a few dust balls, and picked them up. Then I grabbed my go bag and hurried to leave.
Once outside, I put on a real burst of speed. I’m fast, a good thing for someone who’s late all the time. A glance at the reflection in the windows I rushed past showed something I’d hoped not to see today. A familiar blond man several paces behind me walked at a good clip as we both hustled toward my job.
Man, he wasn’t even trying to blend in. Not good.
Today I’d have to run for a different reason. Another chase through yet another city.
A bone deep exhaustion made it difficult to remember why I shouldn’t just lie down and surrender.
They’d gotten better at tracking me. Too good. After my third move in less than a year, I knew I needed to put some distance between me and the people hunting me. Sure, it would have helped to know what the heck I was always running from, but hey, I liked staying alive. So I ran.
I’d spent some time in one their facilities a few years ago. I could never remember exactly how I’d escaped or what all they’d done to me. But the dread I associated with my capture continued. Soooo not going back there again.
The few times I’d tried to talk to my pursuers, ignoring instinct and a god-warning to run like hell, I’d been shot and/or stabbed before losing periods of time. You’d think I’d have learned by now. Some people didn’t know how to play nice.
I hated the not knowing more than anything, though. What the heck was so special about me that it took armed mercenaries and a lineup of who’s-who on the power scale to run me to ground? Because I sure the heck couldn’t figure it out.
Now knowing the blond mercenary was close behind me, I’d get to work, then shake him in the building. Out here, it would be too easy for me to try to escape, only to have my scrawny butt dragged into a van with no windows, never to be seen again.