The Lola Chronicles (Book 2): A Day Without Dawn
Read The Lola Chronicles (Book 2): A Day Without Dawn Online
Authors: Jillian Eaton
Tags: #Horror | Vampires
I took a deep breath
. My heart was racing and my palms were sweaty. I brushed them off on the sides of my shorts. “The one who bit me was named Angelique. She’s the one I killed. One shot to the head and one shot to the heart. That’s the only way to take them down.”
“Tell everyone why they’re here,” Hunter murmured.
I shot him a look. “I’m getting to that part.”
“Before she died,” I said, raising my voice so that it echoed down from the ceiling, “Angelique told me that Revere was some sort of test to see how quickly they could wipe out an entire population. They’ve done it before, in cities and towns all around the world. But this time they’re taking it one step further.”
“What – what do you mean one step further?” Rose asked. It was the first time I’d heard her speak since I’d entered the gym.
“This time they’re not stopping at one town or two towns. This time…this time they’re not stopping until they exterminate the entire human race.”
A
DAY
WITHOUT
DAWN
The Lola Chronicles, Book Two
Jillian Eaton
A Day Without Dawn
is a work of fiction.
All of the characters, organizations, and events
portrayed in this novel are either products
of the author’s imagination
or are used fictitiously.
Copyright © by Jillian Eaton 2016
All Rights Reserved.
Except for use in any review, the
reproduction or utilization of this work in whole
or in part in any form is strictly forbidden.
Lola may have survived the vampire massacre that ripped her quiet town apart, but she still has a long way to go if she wants to get out of Revere alive.
With nowhere left to run and no one left to trust, Lola is quickly running of options. Desperate to find her father before the drinkers find him first, she has no choice but to team up with an unlikely enemy from her past.
It could be the one impulsive decision that will finally costs Lola her life. Because when all is said and done, her new ally might just prove to be the most dangerous drinker of them all….
PRAISE FOR A NIGHT WITHOUT STARS
“Lola is in it to stay alive.” (
XO Reads
)
“I feel like a lot of books I read are about timid, shy girls, but not this time. Lola is a fighter.” (
Great Imaginations
)
“She’s reckless and headstrong.” (
The Book Junkie
)
“Lola can take charge of a major situation and kick some serious butt as well.” (
Jess Time to Read
)
“A sassy lead female character…fiercely loyal to her best friend and her father.” (
One Book at a Time
)
“Lola is your everyday misfit, hellbent on pushing the limit.” (
Devon Ashley
)
“Awesome start for a series, loved Lola! She was gutsy, sarcastic, (and) smart.” (
Unraveling Words
)
“Lola is a character you want to gobble up with every turn of the page.” (
Page Eight Hundred Ninety
)
TABLE OF CONTENTS
“There is something at work in my soul,
which I do not understand.”
-
Mary Shelley,
Frankenstein
Here We Go Again
Dead leaves crunch under my
feet as I step into the woods. I stop and look back look over my shoulder, noting how far the sun has to sink before it disappears behind the tree line.
Time is irrelevant now. Everything has gone back to the sun. When it rises and when it sets. When time begins…and when it runs out. By my estimate I have about twenty minutes before sunset which gives me a small measure of reassurance as I step into the shadows.
Twenty minutes isn’t a lot, but it’s enough.
It has to be.
I move quickly and quietly, using memory – and the note crumpled up in the back pocket of my jeans – to guide me. I can’t remember how many times I snuck out into these woods when I was supposed to be in class learning about algebra.
Guess what, Mr. Hansler. That quadratic equation you said we’d be using every day for the rest of our lives? Turns out you were wrong. See, vampires don’t really give a shit about math.
The only thing they care about is blood.
I can hear my own blood roaring in my ears as I leave the soccer fields further and further behind. I know these woods like I know the scars on the back of my hand and it isn’t long until I reach my intended destination.
Come to the bridge by the stream.
That’s what the note says. I don’t need to read it again, but I do anyways. Pulling it from my pocket I smooth out the paper and scan the neatly typed words. If it had been handwritten I might have had a chance at guessing who sent it me, but the times new roman font is pretty standard.
“I’m here,” I call out as I turn around in a slow circle, scanning the surrounding trees for any sign of movement. I don’t see anything and I don’t hear anything either except for the wind whispering through the trees and the faint gurgle of the stream. There should have been birds chirping, but if there are any birds left they don’t sing.
Not with the darkness so close.
A feeling of unease has me sliding the gun I keep on my right hip out of its holster. I hold it by my side, hand wrapped firmly around the grip, index finger curled lightly around the trigger. The safety is already off. When there are monsters lurking around every corning just waiting to rip out your throat there doesn’t seem much point in having it on.
The sunlight filtering down through the branches is getting weaker by the second. With every breath I am pushing my luck. Hell, I pushed my luck just by coming here. But I have to know. If someone is playing games with me I have to know who they are. And if they aren’t…
My heart gives an extra
thump
inside my chest as I begin to slowly edge towards the warped plank bridge that’s scarred by the cleats of countless cross-country runners. Crumpling the note back up I shove it deep down into my pocket.
It’s just someone pulling a sick, twisted prank. It has to be.
The alternative is too horrific to even think about.
“Getting bored here.” My voice echoes in the silence. I shift my weight onto my toes. I’m ready to fight. Part of me is even eager for it. I’m ready for whoever is going to step out of the woods.
Except I’m not.
He appears like a ghost out of the shadows which I suppose is pretty fitting, seeing as I saw him die.
“
You
.” The shock in my voice mirrors the shock on my face. My hand convulses around the gun. I’m so stunned I almost forget what to do with it before my training kicks in and I point it straight at his chest. “You’re supposed to be dead.”
He smiles. He actually freakin’
smiles
. “It’s good to see you again too, Lola.”
I’m torn. Half of me wants to sprint across the bridge and jump into his arms. The other half wants to shoot and keep shooting until my gun clicks empty. Because I know that even though it looks like him and it sounds like him, it isn’t really him. He died.
I saw him die
. Which means the thing standing ten feet away from me isn’t him.
It’s a monster.
“What the hell do you want?” Despite the erratic beating of my pulse I’m proud that my voice is steady. At least I sound strong, even if I don’t feel like it.
His head tilts to the side. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Yeah,” I snort. “I’ve heard that before. It wasn’t true then and it isn’t true now.”
“I’m serious, Lola.”
My index finger tightens around the trigger. So help me God, but if I have to shoot him again I will. Because I still remember who he took from me. Someone who can never be replaced. Someone who never deserved to die covered in his own blood. Someone who still needs to be avenged.
“So am I…Maximus.”
I Attend a Funeral
Seven days ago I was
a normal teenager. Seven days ago I thought SAT prep was the worst thing in the world. Seven days ago I had a best friend named Travis. Seven days ago I was actually starting to communicate with my dad. Seven days ago I was falling in love.
And then everything changed.
Travis is dead now, my dad is missing, and everyone in my town has been brutally murdered by a horde of bloodthirsty vampires. Oh, and the guy I thought I was falling in love with? He’s the one responsible.
And you thought your life sucked.
Death Day hit Revere like a hammer. There’s no other way to describe it. In one single night over eight thousand people were slaughtered. Men, women, children. Even the stray cat that lived off scraps behind my apartment complex. No one stood a chance. No one was ready. No one was prepared. No one fought back. Everyone just…died. Well, almost everyone.
By some ironic twist of fate I managed to survive. My drunken father did too. And Travis…Travis survived. Until he was murdered by the one person I thought I could trust.
Looking back now, I often wonder if it would have been easier to die on the first night. Sure, getting ripped apart limb from limb and drained of all my blood would have really sucked (pun totally intended), but at least I’d be
dead
.
You don’t have to feel when you’re dead. Not fear or sadness or anger.
Or guilt.
I may not have been the one who plunged the knife into Travis’ chest, but I might as well have been. His death will be on my conscience for as long as I live. Which, given the way things are going, probably won’t be all that long.
I managed to survive the first slaughter by sheer dumb luck. I didn’t have any illusions about surviving the second. I had not seen a drinker in two days, but I knew they were out there. Waiting. Wanting. Just licking their chops at a chance to sink their fangs into my neck. Or maybe they really
were
gone. Who knows? Not me. I’m just a sixteen-year-old with a bad attitude and mommy issues. If you’re looking for a hero, keep looking.
You won’t find one here.
It took me almost two hours to drag Travis out of the basement of the Renner Hotel. For a skinny redhead he was ridiculously heavy, and by the time I managed to pull and push and shove his lifeless body into the shallow grave I’d dug in the middle of the field I was covered in blood and smelled like death.
Tears burned the corners of my eyes as I stared down at him. In typical Travis fashion he’d landed with his ass sticking up and his arms splayed out to the side. I knew I should have arranged his body in a more dignified position, but I couldn’t make myself do it. After everything I had endured over the past twelve hours I was only holding on by a thread. If I touched Travis again I was afraid that thread would finally snap and there would be too many broken pieces to put back together.
“I’m sorry, buddy.” My throat constricted as I forced the words out. The only thing I wanted to do was cover him up with dirt and run away as fast as my legs would carry me, but I owed him this. Besides, where would I run? “I know you deserve more than a hole in a field, but it’s the best I can do on short notice. Next time before you decide to go and get yourself killed give a girl a little warning, okay?”
The sun beat down on my face, drying my tears before they had a chance to fall off my chin. It was hot out. Hotter than it had been all summer. Suddenly I realized I didn’t even know what day it was. During all of the running and the screaming and the killing I had lost track of time. If I had to guess I would say somewhere near the end of August, which meant Travis and I should have been preparing for our senior year of high school. But instead of picking out clothes and comparing class schedules he was lying in the ground and I was giving the suckiest obituary in the history of sucky obituaries.
I had only ever been to one funeral before. Two months after my eighth birthday my grandmother died. I didn’t remember much about her when she was alive, but I did remember her funeral. We all went to a big Catholic church with stained glass windows and uncomfortable wooden pews. My sister complained the entire time. The funeral was on a Saturday, which meant she was missing cheerleading practice. I, on the other hand, was surprisingly quiet for once. Death was new to me and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. I knew my grandmother was gone, but her passing had left me with more questions than answers.
When it was time to go up and view the open casket I remained glued to my father’s side. This was about seven years before he became a raging alcoholic, so he actually had the presence of mind to reassure me as the line dwindled and we got closer and closer to the shiny wooden casket at the front of the church.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said, reaching his arm around and patting me on the shoulders. “It’s not really your grandmother, it’s just her body. Her spirit has gone up to heaven.”
I remember holding my breath as we got up to the edge of the casket and letting it out in a loud
whoosh
of shocked air when I dared to glimpse inside. There, in her favorite pale blue pantsuit surrounded by white satin, was Grandma Biddy.
With pale pink blush smeared on her cheeks and her hair done up in curls she looked nicer in death than she ever had in life. I was transfixed by her appearance, and just a little doubtful that she was really dead and not just sleeping.
“But how do you know?” I asked my dad.
“How do I know what, love bug?”
“That she…you know…
died
?” I whispered.
“What a stupid question.” Big Sis wormed her way between us and rolled her eyes. “This is a funeral, dummy. You only have funerals when people die.”
“Yeah, but how do you know for
sure
?” Only eight years old and I was already well on my way to becoming a pain in the ass. “She could be pretending.”
“You can’t pretend to be dead, Lola.” My mother stepped up behind me and leaned forward, resting her chin on my head as she gazed down at Grandma Biddy. She’d never particularly liked her mother-in-law, but she was good at hiding her true feelings. After all, I never knew she didn’t particularly like me until she walked out the door and never came back. “Once someone passes away they’re gone forever.”
That answer made sense to me at the time, but now I know better.
Now I know the dead can look as alive as you and me. Now I know they can walk and talk and breathe. Now I know they can even pass as human. Except they aren’t human. Not really. Underneath their charm and their flashing blue eyes and their sadistic smiles they’re monsters. Monsters who love preying on the weak and terrorizing the helpless. Monsters who live on blood and fear. Monsters who pretend to be one thing when they’re something else entirely.
Just like Maximus.
