Redemption (Dawn of the Damned Book 1) (2 page)

"And this is probably our most important asset, Anja McPherson," Smith said with a wink. She forced her eyes up to meet his piercing eyes toned down to a welcoming brown by contacts, forcing her hand with all her will to meet his cold one, clenching and unclenching her fingers around his hand as briefly as she possibly could.

He did not let her hand go though, not as fast as she hoped he would anyway. He held onto her hand for a while, squeezing so firmly that had she been human, her bones would be cracking underneath. Her bones are not so feeble though, and they withstood the pressure easily. He knew they would, and there was a play of victory in his eyes at that moment.

"Anja," he said, a cold smile crossing his features. "That is a lovely name. Nice to meet you," he muttered as he lifted her fingers to his lips, which he brushed gently.

Her whole body cringed away, and her blood left her face. She silently thanked the human that invented makeup, otherwise she would be unable to explain the pale bloodless face underneath these painted layers.

He finally let go of her hand, and she took a moment to collect herself before shaking the hands of the other two humans in his company. She then noted the jealous look that crossed the face of the woman he was with, and Anja almost laughed out despite the dire situation she was in. She wanted nothing, absolutely nothing to do with this man, except to be as far away as possible from him and his kind, she’d have told the woman.

"Follow me, Mr. Bjarnesen," Smith then said. She choked on her own breath at Smith's words.

Is that what he was calling himself now?

“Anja, could you be a sweetheart and pull out our transcript records for the past two years? Bring them into the conference room."

"I could help her," Lindsey butted in, all of a sudden showing a lot of interest in the firm she said she could hardly wait to leave just a short while ago.

Smith nodded in agreement before walking on forward into the conference room. Anja wasted no time, rushing to her desk in the fastest humanly possible speed to grab at her handbag.

"So where are.." Lindsey started. Anja didn’t stop to listen to her, rushing past her and out through the doors. She headed for the staircase, stopped on the first landing down and pushed a window open. She then hurriedly scampered out through it, dropping softly on the ground five stories below.

She did not miss a step, breaking into a sprint the very moment her feet touched the ground.

She knew the pure-blood that had just walked into her office had both heard and felt her escape. He would definitely follow her, she was sure of it. He’d hunt her to the ends of the world if he could.

Why, oh why couldn't he just leave her alone? She thought to herself as she darted across the streets expertly.

Hadn't his family done enough to her? She pondered further as she maneuvered between the traffic and masses crowding the streets. She didn’t even slow down when she had to take out her phone and crush it in her palm, so as to ensure she wasn’t being electronically tracked.

She threw its remains into a trash bin that she ran past, its force of impact as it crashed against the metal caused the trash bin to rock in place, almost tipping over. That was sure to catch the attention of the people standing nearby, but none of them would be able to see her at the moment. Not at the speed she was running.

She couldn’t go home now. He would undoubtedly have men waiting for her there. If any other Draugr had walked into the office this morning, she’d have termed it a coincidence. But him- she knew it could not be a coincidence. He and his people must have been scouting her for a while, and he’d come to bring her in. If they’d been scouting her, then they knew where she lived as well as had memorised her routine. Luckily, she had a back-up plan for ordeals like these.

She changed direction again, turning towards the opposite side of town. It was a great strategy to crisscross across the city, as it helped to throw off whoever could be following her trail. Her scent would be all over the place, and hopefully, he would soon get mixed up and lose her.

She slowed down as she approached the street where the storage container she’d rented years back stood. She walked up through the main doors to the guard, showing him her ID. He made her sign in, but she didn't mind as she planned on throwing out her current ID as soon as she left with her things. She walked over to container 786 and dragged it open. There lay a single bag in the center of the storage room. She picked it up and rushed out of the storage area, not bothering to use the main door, instead slipping out through an open window.

She then began running in the opposite direction she came from, exhilarated that freedom might still be possible..

Only for someone to pounce on her from the back and break her escape.

Oh no!
Every sense in her body screamed, for the person holding her was very strong. So strong that she knew him not to be human.

They’ve found her, she thought to herself as she struggled against him futilely. She turned around to face the unmatched eyes boring into hers. One a false loving brown, the other of rings of cold blue, his contact lens probably having fallen off during the chase.

"Please.. please let me go," she pleaded with him. "I’ll disappear. I’m not a nuisance. I know how to control myself, and I’ve never brought attention to myself.."

The eyes opened slightly wider as she spoke, as though amused, but he did not let her go.

"Anja," he said her name quietly, "the earth has been scoured inside out in search of you. Who would have thought you were hiding all this time in a seedy part of the great apple?"

Not the whole time, just the better part of the last hundred years, she wished to retort back. But there was no need to tell him that.

"Please.."

"I cannot let you go. You are a wanted person, and I’m now a man of the law. You have missed to report in for the general assemblies for the last twenty or so decades. By that fact alone you’ve broken a most important law, and are there by a fugitive. I will not aid and abet anyone." She struggled against him, but she knew it was fruitless. However strong Anja was, he was much stronger. A fact she knew very well. He was a pure-blood, and she, merely a half-blood.

“You let me go once..”

“I won’t do it again!” He answered firmly, sounding so convicted in the notion that despair began creeping into her senses.

A lone bloody tear drop squeezed out of her eye right then, before she mastered herself and swallowed back the rest. Her captor then reached out his index finger and dabbed at the bloody tear drop, before sticking his finger back into his mouth. She held back her revulsion at his actions.

What else had she expected? He is his father's son after all!

"Listen to me now. We shall take a taxi like good New Yorkers do, and go back to my place until I figure out what to do with you. Remember you cannot escape, so do not bother." She nodded, before he turned to wave at a taxi, his right hand firmly coiled against her small waist in a deathly grip, his touch and proximity revolting her, though she kept that notion hidden. He wouldn’t let her go anyway, even if she alerted him of her aversion to his touch.

She knew she’d have to try plan her escape another time. He was too attentive at the moment for her to successfully break free. She still had another duffel bag hidden in an empty coffin buried at a graveyard in New Jersey, with other identification documents and money. If worse came to worst, she’d leave the documents behind and run to a different city, and try to get fake documents there. Those two however were as close to the real deal as it got, and with all these current technological advancements and centralization of data and information, it was getting very hard to create a new unquestionable identity.

When a taxi stopped beside them, the tall Viking pushed her into it, following her close behind. He never took his hand away from her, even as they stopped by a large palace-like hotel building in high-end Manhattan. They stepped out of the taxi, and he walked beside her into the building, greeting the doorman cheerfully in the majestic lobby before leading her into a stately looking elevator.

Anja was not particularly impressed by the extravagant life her captor led. She too could have chosen this life, if she wanted to. She’d scoured the earth long enough to amass herself enough wealth to do it. She’d however kept away from this lifestyle in fear of meeting up one day with others like her. She had always dreaded the very situation that she now found herself in.

The elevator finally drew to a stop at the penthouse, and its doors slid open.

"Welcome to my humble abode, Anja!" He exclaimed above her ear.

There was nothing humble about it.

“Are you hungry?” He asked, and she promptly shook her head in answer as she continued looking out the large ceiling-to-floor glass window.

“I’ll order us something to eat, anyway,” he said, starting to move away. She finally breathed easier, glad at being allowed her own personal space. Now maybe her mind would finally be clear enough to come up with an escape plan.

“And Anja- don't even think of jumping out of that window you’re eyeing! I’ll catch you even before you land on the ground,” he added in warning. She knew it to be true, as she looked down the thirty or so floors of drop to the ground. It was a long way down, and he was fast.

He ordered the meal in his unaffected voice and then hang up the receiver. She felt him move closer to her again, the strings around her heart tightening with each step he made closer to her. But luckily he stopped short of touching her, just a little to her left.

His close proximity still nagged her though, and so she edged a couple of steps away. He cocked his head to his side to look at her tentative movements, in his eyes clear amusement at having caused her such unease. He still hadn’t noticed his missing contact lens, so his eyes were still greatly mispaired. She said nothing though, not wanting to do him any favours. It’s not like he’d ever done her any favours in the past, and it was clear he wouldn’t be doing her any now.

“Nice little life you’ve carved yourself out there in the ghetto,” he mocked.

She chose to say nothing in return, just stepping away from him again, as she turned her whole body to stare outside the window. He chose to step yet again closer to her, but also averted his attention from her to the view that had captured her attention. They now both stared outside in silence, her escape-bag still tucked under her arm protectively.

Kjeld studied her profile discreetly from the corner of his eyes, wondering just what she must have undergone for the past two centuries to survive, and yet still remain under the radar.

He knew though that the worst of her scars stemmed from her childhood, and at that memory his eyes thawed into the coldest shade of blue there was because of his repressed anger, rings of celeste blue he thought remained hidden behind his contact lenses.

The elevator sounded a click at that moment, distracting him from his thoughts. Their meal had arrived!

He walked over to receive the staff member, and smiled when he saw the tall slender blond that stepped out of the elevator pushing a trolley with her. He did not bother to guard his captive then. He’d successfully tracked and captured her even when she’d had the advantage. She’d always been a bright girl, and is sure to know when she’d been cornered. Regardless, he’d know the moment she flinched from her position, as he could feel her presence deep in his senses. Plus if she managed to escape, by some miracle, he’d have every government agency searching for her, and her face plastered on every television screen even before she could make it across town. He was governor of Area One now, and had the whole military, television networks and law enforcement agencies in the Americas at his beck and call. She won’t be able to get away from him again.

Plus he was stronger than her, and faster than her. If she ran now, he’d catch up with her soon enough. Maybe he’d chase her himself just for the fun of it. It had been hard to find her at first, mainly because he did not have so many agencies at his disposal then.

As soon as he’d let her go those many years back, he’d began searching for her, regretting his decision instantly. He narrowed her location to North America half a century back, and is why he campaigned so hard to be governor of the area. Governor elections are held every five decades among the Draugr society, as are the High Council elections.

He didn’t wish to be a council member though, but the governor of Area One. His family had governed Area Two for eons, but he wanted Area One because he wanted to protect her. He’d been ecstatic after winning, but when his half-brother lost the race to get elected into the High Council, Kjeld named him as his second in command.

They tracked her down soon enough, and had kept her in their radar, her life undisturbed for as long as they could. However with recent rulings of the cases that came before the High Council, which clearly showed the liberal direction the Draugr society was heading towards, he and his brother had agreed that it was time to bring her back in. There was no knowing what waited ahead for their society, but it was clear that for centuries past, this was the best time for half-bloods to plead their cases. So like it or not, she would be arraigned at this time, when it was politically the best time for her. She mightn’t think it so, but he was actually protecting her. Her safety and well-being had ranked high on his list of priorities for a while now, and he wouldn’t stop until she was safe again.

“Set it up there, please,” he said with his low sexy voice to the uniformed woman wheeling in a trolley, and Anja turned their way in time to see their meal smile flirtingly back at him as she walked over to the dining table.

The handsome predator followed her movements with his keen eyes as she did her job. When she was done, she stood up straight, about to turn his way. However her predator stepped forward, stopping behind her to coil his hands flirtatiously around her waist, imprisoning her from turning his way. The sexy woman immediately caved in to his touch without a fight, getting that which she most craved for- his touch.

He played with her at first, stroking her arms tenderly, at times barely touching her, coaxing her to near begging, her breathing coming out heavy and burdened, as the woman began to beg for that which she did not understand. She leaned further back, letting her body rest against his in surrender, while her painted lips parted with wanton.

“Do you want me, honey?” He drawled, as he buried his head into her hair flirtatiously.

“Yes,” she whispered breathlessly. “I really want you.” Anja heard the waitress' racing heartbeat clearly, and the rising scent of her arousal coming from somewhere between her legs. The smell sickened her, and she turned away, back to facing her view.

The man nuzzling the waitress' neck paused a little and looked up at Anja's silhouette, wondering why she didn’t wish to toy with their meal a little. However his blood lust soon overtook all of his senses as his prey squirmed in his hands, and so he turned back, right before he pushed the waitress' hair away and sank his fangs deep into her neck.

The blood flowing from her neck swirled in his mouth, its rich heady essence teasing him. He’d fed from her a dozen times before, and she was one of his favorite human meals for she was fit, ate well, and her body was not marred with needless drugs and cigarettes as most human bodies of this era were.

It was hard these days to come across such good human meals, and is why he kept her on a retainer. She probably thought it was because he fancied her that he’d asked her boss that she be the one that always brings up his meals. Yes, she was a beautiful woman, but it was not the quality he liked best about her. It was the purity of that which ran in her veins that made her his favourite. She was not his favourite meal of all time, though. That title was held by another- not quite human.

He looked up at the young woman standing a few feet away from him, and noted her veins protruding from her hands and her face, the only exposed surfaces of her skin. She might deny it, but her body betrayed her. She was hungry. He pulled back from his lovely meal, and dabbed at the corner of his mouth with one of the napkins his meal had so dutifully laid on the table.

“Come and feed, Anja,” he called lightly.

“No thank you,” she mumbled, keeping her face turned away from him, attempting to hide the evidence of her cravings from him.

“Anja!” He called more firmly. “Come and feed now.”

It’s not fear at his firm tone, rather common sense that made her comply. The last thing she wanted was to anger him then. She needed him to think her complacent to his will. It was the best way to make him lower his guard. She therefore walked up to him and around the four-seater dining table to the other side of their waitress, who now sagged limply against her captor’s hands.

He pushed the victim gently so that her neck was only a few inches from Anja's mouth. However, Anja pushed back the offered neck, and instead brought up the victims hand to her mouth, sinking her fangs into her wrist.

She did not drink as much as her captor had though, choosing instead to suck on slowly and savor every mouthful. That was how she preferred to feed, been sure to only take as much as she really needed, and not any more than was necessary. She pulled the wrist away, been sure to lick over its wounds lightly, so as to quicken the girl's healing process.

When she looked back up, her captor was looking at her with those mismatched eyes of his, the unmasked one burning so deep a blue that reminded her so much of her endless nightmares and their sources. Memories from another lifetime that she would do anything to forget.

Anja watched as he ran a finger over her still bleeding neck and sucked on it, before bending in to lick at her wounds. He pulled the waitress back into his arms and carried her away, placing her to lie on the luscious couch against the wall.

“Go to sleep, dear. And when you wake up, all you’ll remember is that I asked you to join me.”

“I want you,” is all the waitress said in answer, a clear sign that she’d do anything for the Draugr. Her eyes however got heavy, and she gave in to that which she’d been instructed to do- sleep. Her head lolled backwards against the couch’s arm rest, and in the next second soft snores sounded from her.

Anja knew that when the girl next awoke, she’d have completely forgotten everything other than that which she was instructed to remember. Their saliva poison seeping into her bloodstream from her wounds was an agent to quicken her healing process, and by the time she awoke all she’d have were healing scabs that would soon disappear.

Anja turned away from their meal and picked up a napkin to dab at the corner of her mouth, as she eased herself to sit on one of the four empty luxurious dining chairs. Her captor put himself onto another, opposite hers. He then reached out to pour himself a glass of wine, while she poured herself a glass of water. They both then began digging into their early dinner in silence.

“You do not feed from the neck anymore?” He asked her quizzically. She looked up at him in abashed anger at his question.

“When have you ever seen me feed from the neck, except when I was forced to?” She threw back at him in controlled anger, digging her nails into her fingers to stop her hands from shaking.

She was annoyed because he dared bring it up- the topic of feeding, that which he knew well had driven her away. That which had been the cause of so many tremors, the source of most of her irrational fears- How dare he?

He looked up at her with an apologetic look in his eyes, and the notion both surprised her as well as thawed away her anger. She looked down from his face with mixed feelings. She knew that he was now remembering- remembering the countless of times his family had fed on her over and over again since she was a little child.

The Gunnarsen family, as they had been known then, had taken her in at six years old, after the horrifying experience she steered clear of remembering. She remembers first seeing the menacing east tower of the fortress, before the whole rumbling grey structure came into view.

The head of the house, the great Lord Bjarne Gunnarsen, had smiled at her placidly as he lifted her off the tired horse that she and Old Torben had ridden on for days. The old man had climbed down weakly after her, having lost a lot of his blood from having to constantly feed her during the course of their journey. The moment Old Torben’s feet had touched the ground, she had watched in horror as Lord Bjarne swung a heavy sword across his neck, beheading him with just one swing, instantly killing him. And right then, she lost the only other person to have ever truly loved her, beside her mother.

Anja had opened her mouth to scream, but the Lord had held up his index finger to his lips, and she had not uttered a sound, her scream dying on her lips.

The Gunnarsens were not the worst of devils. She had met the true devil himself, and it had been her own father. The Gunnarsens had treated her well enough, letting her take lessons with their sons and play in the nursery, just as though she was their equal. They all knew though that she was not an equal. She was a half-blood.

However, she had to pay a price for their hospitality, and it had been a hard price to pay.

Her repeated nightmare would start every evening after dinner. She knew what was expected of her after a few days, and never faltered ever since until she left their home. She would get up from her place at the dinner table, and walk over to Bjarne at his head position, who would sweep her hair away and sink his teeth deep into her neck. After he’d had his fill, he would pass her on to his wife and then to his son who’d been two years older than her.

The Kjeld Bjarnesen standing before her right now was not very much different from the eight year old Kjeld then. He takes what he wants now without question or compassion, just as he had taken then.

Remembering life under Lord Gunnarsen always brought up thoughts of Jon- dear sweet Jon. Jon was a half-blood too, Kjeld’s half-brother. Kjeld’s mother, the beautiful Lady Astrid Gunnarsen, had an affair with one of their African slaves they’d brought home after a long expedition around the world.