Silver Mortal (The Gracen Chronicles) (3 page)

“Hey there. Haven't seen you here before.”

Fuming inwardly, I slowly open my eyes. A tall skinny guy dressed in black leather pants and a sheer black shirt is staring me down. He looks like a typical vampire wannabe with black hair, clear blue contact lens, black eyeliner, and super pale skin. His ears are pierced many times over, along with his nose and lips and, thanks to his mesh top, I can see that both of his nipples are pierced. When he licks his lips and smiles, his fangs are visible. A hard ball of queasiness hits my stomach as an image of the girl biting her
partner’s
neck flits across my mind. Anger and fury starts to roil inside me and a nasty taste forms in my mouth, but I swallow it down, remembering the mission at hand. This guy with fangs and pierced nipples may be able to help me. Unknowingly, of course.

“Speechless, huh?” he remarks in an English accent, most likely fake. “Never seen one quite like me, have you?” He lifts his chin and winks. I bite my tongue, holding back a very ugly reply.

Acting the part I say in my most sexiest voice, “No, you are quite the
stud
. I must say you're the hottest vamp in this
club.” At first I feel he may see through my ruse, but instead his smile grows bigger.

“You look very virginal to me,” he remarks lightly, his finger caressing my cheek. I have to fight the urge to slap his hand away and punch him in the throat.

“I'm new to all this,” I tell him shyly, bringing out my acting skills and hoping they're convincing.

He takes a step closer and wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me into him. I feel a sense of pride knowing that I'm gaining his trust, though the random thought of kicking him in the balls surges through me. I contain my sudden impulse, telling myself there would be time for that later.

“I'd love to show you around,” he says, his breath reeking of smoke and alcohol. Snickering he adds, “I'll show you where all the cool kids hang, and maybe we can get to know each other a little better—I'm Draven, by the way.

Draven, a very common vamp name. Quickly I say the first vamp name that pops into my head.

“I'm Selene,” I tell him in a husky voice, placing my hands on his chest, “and I'd love to get to know you better.” That gets his engine revved up.

Leaning his head close to my neck I almost lose it when his tongue flicks out of his mouth and licks my skin. And when I say lose it, I mean upchuck my dinner.

As gently as I can I push his head away from my neck so he's looking at me.

“No, not here,” I whisper softly, fluttering my eyelashes.

With his hands rubbing my hips he asks, “Where do you
want to go, Princess Selene?”

I roll my eyes, but he doesn't see the movement behind my dark sunglasses. “Show me where all the cool kids
hang
.”

“Your wish is my command,” he whispers roughly into my ear, then grabbing my hand he leads me to a black curtain I hadn't noticed before.

Pushing the curtain aside I see there's a dark hallway lit with candles hanging on the walls. The hall is long and doors are lined on each side, all draped with black curtains, some open and some not. I try to see what's behind the closed curtains, but I'm unable to, although I can
hear
what's going on. Immediately I'm fine on not seeing what's behind them.

“Here we are,” he tells me, finding us an open room.

I take in my surroundings as we walk into the small room. Like the rest of the club, the walls are painted black, the floor is carpeted in red. A king-sized bed fills the room wearing black silk sheets and is covered with bright red rose petals. Black candles are also lit, their lights flickering off the walls and casting eerie shadows on the bed.

If the circumstances had been different and if I was with my lover, I'd say this setup was super romantic. But when Draven quickly slips his pants and shirt off, the romantic vibe quickly dies, replaced with an enormous amount of
yuck
.

Wearing only red boxes, Draven lies down on the bed and leans on his elbow, giving me a smile that shows of his white fangs. I realize he's got to be the skinniest guy I've ever seen, even skinnier that Jude. He has no muscle tone and appears
to be, oh what's the word...

Wimpy. Yeah, that's it.
Wimpy
.

He pats the spot next to him. “Ready to get to know each other, my love?”

Yeah, I want to get to know you, Draven—
not
.

“Well,” I say, crossing my arms, “first I'd like to ask you some questions. I am new to this, after all.”

He rolls his eyes, apparently unhappy. “Fine, but while you're asking questions start removing some clothes. I want to see what's under all that leather.” He licks his lips, his eyes roaming my body. “Also, you'll have to lose the sunglasses. I want to look into your eyes while we get busy.”

Inwardly I groan. I mean really, why would anyone think this guy is sexy? He's a total horn-ball wuss! If there ever was a contest for the
Corniest Vampire Wannabe Alive
, this dude would win hands down.

“OK, but first one question: Who owns this club?”

“Some black dude that never leaves his office,” he
replies
, his eyes sticking to me.

“Where is this office located?”

“No, that's not the deal,” he says, wagging his long finger at me. “I answered a question, now
you
take something off.”

I sigh, knowing that's not completely the deal. But I have to appease him, so I unlatch the strap that holds my Katana.

“Whoa, what's that?” he inquires, surprised by the
garment
I take off.

“Oh, this?” I say, unsheathing my sword, its blade shining in the candlelight. “This here is my favorite weapon, and I
use it to slay vampires.” I give him a sideways glance, arching an eyebrow.

He lets out a nervous laugh. “Wait, what are you—” Before he finishes I cross the room and straddle him, holding the tip of the sword to his neck. His contact-covered eyes shoot wide open and his arms lift up in surrender.

“What the—”

“Shut-up you waste of time,” I bark at him. He instantly clams up. “I'm in charge here, not you. I'm not your
princess
and you're not a real vampire. And I would never in a million years have sex with you. Now, if you're a good little boy you'll answer a few questions. If you scream, I'll kill you. So if living is on your list of stuff to do then I suggest you be quiet. Do you understand?”

He nods his head as beads of sweat drip down his face.

“Good,” I say, keeping the Katana steady. “Now answer this. Do you know anything about people disappearing from this club?”

“W-W-What?” he stammers, his accent now sounding more New Yorker than English. “No, I don't know—” I push the sword forward a tiny bit. “Wait! Wait! Yes, I know s-something, I think. A...two girls. I saw two girls the other night with the weird owner. They went into his office...”

“What do you mean by weird?” I question. “This whole place screams weird. So when you say weird—what do you mean?”

He gulps, his eyes staring down at the sword. “I—it's hard to explain. It's like...”

“Like what?” I urge.

“Like they can control minds.” He looks up at me pitifully. “Like they're true vampires. Like they're real monsters!”

I groan. “Get this through your head—vampires do
not
exist.”

He sneers. “Well, they may not exist, but evil sure does.”

“Hmmm.” I tilt my head and study him, not able to argue that logic. “One more question, Draven...if that's your real name. Where's the office?”

Snorting he replies, “I don't have to tell you anything you bi—” I dig the sword even deeper, this time drawing blood. “Ahh! OK, OK, OK! It's at the end of the hall! The door's painted black to blend in!”

I retract the sword, get in his face, and whisper, “Thank you.”

Jumping off of him, I secure my Katana by snapping it back in place. As I make my way out of the room I hear Draven say, “Selfish whore.”

I turn around to find he has gotten out of the bed and followed me, his face a mask of fury. A trail of blood flows from his neck and down his chest from the sharp point of the Katana. He lifts a hand as if to smack me but never makes contact with my face. A few blows from my elbows and fists brings him to the ground, knocking him out cold.

“Whore,” I mutter to myself, my feet taking me down the hall. “I'll show them who's a whore.”

With the Silver Eagle ready, fuming for battle, I kick the door down and find myself face-to-face with vamp demons.

Grinning and removing my sunglasses, throwing them to
the ground, I say pleasantly, “Hope you're ready to dance, 'cause I'm sending y'all back to Hell tonight.”

25

Silver Mortal

Chapter 3

The fight begins when four vamp demons rush me from all sides, hissing and baring their fangs, which are all too real. Supernatural energy surges through my veins, a white-hot burning in my blood, and I quickly get to work.

The first two, male and female, go down easy, my sword cutting them in half with one quick swing. An explosion of glittery dust is all that's left of them, the particles dissipating before hitting the ground. A third one advances and I kick him in the chest, sending him flying across the room, while I plunge my Katana into the fourth one, killing it instantly. An inhuman screech sounds behind me. The vamp I'd kicked across the room is now back on his feet and charging me. As he gets closer all I can see of him is his sharp fangs and outstretched claws. When he's almost on top of me I somersault in the air and land directly behind him. My sword connects with his head, followed by a plume of glitter that coats the air and then slowly disappears.

The room is deathly quiet, except for my breathing, which is basically normal. I'm usually not winded after a fight, thanks to my Silver Eagle bloodline, though my heart is
dancing a jig in my chest.

My eyes fall on the main vamp demon who is sitting behind a large mahogany desk. He looks like a pimp, wearing a dark pin-striped suit and a massive smile. His teeth are extremely bright against his dark skin, his black eyes empty and fathomless. I squint my eyes, unsure of what I'm seeing. His fangs aren't showing, which is odd since he's supposed to be the main vamp here. There's a dark energy surrounding him, a powerful wave of potent vileness that makes me wonder if he's all he seems to be; Makes me wonder if there's something more to him than meets the eye.

We stare at one another, two enemies knowing there's an inevitable death in the future, which is the only component that can end this fight. Of course we both know that he's the one who will most likely perish. With that being a
severe,
guaranteed fact he begins to turn on the charm, his one and only goal being to live through this meeting.

“Bravo, you found us,” he tells me in a deep baritone voice, clapping his hands three times. “Didn't take you long, either. Must be because you are an excellent warrior. A beautiful,
strong
warrior.”

I narrow my silver eyes and tilt my head. “Yeah, I agree with you. I'm good at what I do.”

“Well, you don't have to tell me twice!” he remarks, his eyebrows raised. “You killed four of my best soldiers in less than a minute. The Silver Mortals I've come across have never showed much promise, but you...you're different. I could use someone like you.”

“Really?” I say innocently. “And what would a demon want with a Silver Mortal?”

“I sense something in you, something dark and
familiar.” He rubs his chin, eying me up and down.

Dark and familiar? What is he talking about?

He continues with, “We could work together, you and I. With your beauty and power, and my
prestigious
contacts, we could have the whole world bowing to us.”

“The whole world, huh?” I reply, lifting my finger and tapping my chin as if in deep thought. “Well, why didn't I think of that?”

Let me say this: I would never and
will
never switch over to the demon side, even if I could have the world at my beck and call. For this demon to even suggest it makes my skin crawl and my blood boil.

Demons, just like their lord Satan, use big words and analogies as weapons to distract the weak-minded, thinking they can just talk themselves into a body or out of a deathly situation while promising their foes fame and fortune. They like to try and butter up their opponent to see if they'll let down their defenses, only to snap them in half as soon as the deception works. They try outsmarting their enemies, human or not, for their own personal gain. Cruel deception runs through their veins, endless suffering of mankind is their drug, and pain is the fuel that keeps their black hearts thumping.

There's been a few Silver Mortals over the years that have fallen for their lies, only to be carried down to Hell. Luckily for me I harbor a very stubborn and insensitive selective hearing. There's nothing this demon can say to get me to switch teams. But I have to admit that pretending to be interested is a lot of fun, my own little game I can play against them. I love screwing around with these guys; I also
love to annihilate them in the process.

“We'd make a great team, Gracen,” he says.

“How do you know my name?” I ask suspiciously, my skin now itching with curiosity.

He hesitates before answering, “That...doesn't matter. All I know is that together we could take down the mortal world, turning them into our slaves. You are better than they are. I can see it, that darkness around you
.  Y
ou are powerful and they are scum.”

What darkness does he keep talking about? He has obviously gotten me confused with
another
Eagle
, though there isn't any Silver Mortal's near the city
.  T
hat I knew of, anyway.

“You can have anything you want,” he whispers,
cutting into
my wondering thoughts.

Placing a hand on my hip I ask, “So you're saying that if I join your ranks of sinister evils I'll be able to have anything I want, such as mansions, cars, and a harem of sex slaves in my bedroom?” Yeah, spreading it on thick
and
nasty.

His lips curl into a sneer. “Yes. Anything you want, Gracen. Fame. Fortune. Men, or women...or
both
. We could rule over this planet and all the disgusting human race. And the ones that do not comply, we simply erase.”

“As in
kill
?”

He nods. “If the humans do not obey us, they don't deserve to live.”

“You know,” I say, dropping my hand from my hip. “What you're saying sounds pretty good to me...but there's one
teensy-weensy
problem.”

“Tell me. Whatever the problem is we can fix it.” He leans his elbows on the desk, resting his chin on top of his huge entwined hands. I know he thinks he has his hooks in me, but I'm about to burst his delusional bubble.

“I'm human,” I tell him matter-of-fact. He lets out a harsh cackle.

“Yes, I know, but you are a
Touched
human. Like I said, you are better than them,” he tells me, still in persuasion mode. “Why do you risk your life for these pathetic beings?”

He stands up and I'm amazed at his girth and height. He has to weigh over three hundred pounds and is way over six feet tall. In the back of my mind a tiny voice tells me that he's going to be a little tougher to knock down, but that thought only fuels me.
Challenges
me. The taste of battle is on the tip of my tongue and my heart is thundering with sharp expectancy.

“Look, I'm done playing games,” I tell him boldly, lifting my chin in defiance. “And I think I'll pass on the whole
world at my beck and call
thing.”

“I just don't get it!” he explodes, his tone wet with aggravation. “You put your very life on the line for weak, puny, fragile humans that you don't even know! Why do you live your life protecting beings that, if the tables were turned, would never return the favor?”

“Because,” I say softly, seriously, “it's my job. It's why I was created—to send your kind back to Hell. Back to where you belong.”

He frowns deeply. “So, you're saying that you won't join with me? You're saying instead of worldly riches, you'll protect the mortal heathens that pollute this earth. You'll
stay a slave to the one who created you, the one who didn't give you a choice to choose what you wanted to be.”

I nod, putting on my most dangerous face. “Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying, though I do have a choice, and I choose to help the weak. The ones you and your despicable kind prey upon.”

He sighs, shaking his head. “Well. Then I guess tonight will be your last night on earth.” I get into a defensive stance, lifting my sword as he adds, “A shame, really. You show so much potential.”

Abruptly he lets out an earth-shattering battle cry and jumps in the air, sailing over his desk towards me. Before I can blink or swing my sword, he's already on me, knocking me flat on my back. Only he doesn't deliver a killing blow. Rather he flees the office and vanishes down the hall, which confuses the ever-loving junk out of me. Without thinking on the matter I jump up, excitement fueling my adrenaline, the thrill of the chase hot on the bottoms of my feet. I run down the long hallway, passing rooms that had been occupied just minutes before, but are now empty of life, human or otherwise. I continue running until I bust out of the black curtain that opens to the huge room...

And collide with my mother.

“Gracen!” she cries out, seizing me into a tight hug. “Where have you been? I've been looking all over—”

I can't hear her. I can barely breath. My heart is thumping hard, trying its best to escape the confinement of my chest. All I see is red, my eagle blood wanting so badly to do some damage. I feel rage, I feel violence—I feel like ripping heads off and spitting on them, whether they're demon or human. A slap to my face wakes me up, taking away my dark,
horrible thoughts. Shaking my head I look at Mom as reality comes crashing down around us.

“Breathe, Gracen,” she murmurs, taking her sunglasses off, her silver eyes glaring into mine. “Calm down, don't let the thoughts get to you. You will not accomplish anything if you don't
calm done
.”

Staring at Mom and taking huge gulps of air I begin to settle down, my heart slowing slightly. When I first began demon slaying I found out that not only did I have super strength and otherworldly powers, I also had an issue with rage. Fortunately for me she is always there to quell the anger that finds me during battle.

Somehow, just by looking into her eyes, I'm able to settle the obsessive beat of my heart and tame the hot madness in my blood. In that moment I realize that we're not the only ones in the room.

“I'm okay, Mom,” I interject in a shaky breath, my eyes nervously scanning the room. “We have company.” And when I say company, I mean at least a hundred vamp demons infesting the club, their black hungry eyes set on us. There are no humans in the building—the demons must have anticipated a fight and kicked them out of there, which is for the best. Little did they know they'd made it easier for us. With no Untouched humans in the way we could demolish the whole building if we had to.

Wind whips at our faces as a lone winged creature lowers himself to the ground in front of us. It's the demon from the office, the head honcho, and I'm caught off guard by what I'm seeing.

A Fallen Angel...of course!

I knew something had been a little
off
about him! That evil energy I'd felt in the office totally made sense now. Yes, demons have a vileness flowing off of them in potent waves, one that my kind can always detect. But what I'd felt in the office, and at this very second, could only be described as foreign to my Silver Eagle senses. This certain feeling is indescribably sinister, and just plain
wrong
. I've never seen a Fallen Angel, but I've heard many stories about them. They're powerful, deceptive, and can completely drain a Silver Mortal of their powers during battle. Taking a look at Mom I watch as all the color drains from her face, which sets my nerves on fire. Mother is always the strong one, but the feeling of fear rolling off of her body causes me to think she's not as strong as I thought.

Oh, that's another power we Silver Mortals possess—we can feel a persons emotions, read them like an open book. We're like
emotion
detectors, and right now my mom is scared.

Getting in between me and the Fallen Angel, Mom says, “Zavebe...I never thought I'd see you again, especially after I sent you back to the pit.”

“
Zavebe
?” I take a step to stand next to mom, glaring at her. “Mom, you never told me about a freaking Fallen Angel named Zavebe!”

“And how funny it is,” she continues, ignoring my remark, “that you turn back up with your little legion of misfits just as soon as my daughter shows up on radar.”

Zavebe lets out an obnoxious laugh, the vicious gleam in his black eyes growing. “That's the best time, isn't it? To pounce on the freshest of meat? And besides, she's still young, easy to influence. She has the freewill to choose what she wants to be.”

“Okay, look, I'm right here, so don't talk like I'm not,” I tell them with anger and confusion skidding across my brain. Glowering at the Fallen Angel I say, “And anyway, Mr. Zavebe, I'm not a puppet for someone to control. No one influences me, not you, not my mother,
nobody
.”

The room fills with demonic laughter, all the vamps thinking what I'd just said was the funniest thing they'd ever heard.

His black eyes zone in on me and he smiles, and that's when I notice his teeth. They're black, sharp, and pointy...all three rows of them. He was now in his true form. Black feathery wings protrude from his back, fanning the air around him. His hands are huge with thick, five-inch black claws, which he closes and opens at his waist. He rips off his pin-striped jacket, throwing it to the ground. Insanely huge muscles can be seen tightening and rippling under his white t-shirt, every vein popping out over his skin. His muscles are so large he looks as if he's about to pop. This is my first Fallen Angel meeting, and I would be lying if I said that I'm not scared and about to pee myself. I mean, this Zavebe creep is way up high on my crap-o-meter of most freakiest beings I've seen in my sixteen years.