The Lost

NEW YORK   BOSTON

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The Claimed

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This book is dedicated to the brave men and
women of the U.S. military and their families.
Without you and the sacrifices you make,
we could not enjoy the Liberty and Freedoms
of this great Nation and for that we owe you
an immense debt of gratitude.

El Paso, Texas, 1991

A
s darkness slowly fled from his eyes, the boy woke, his head aching and his body sore, as if he had been beaten. He looked around the room, but nothing in it seemed familiar. Nothing except the man slumped in the rocking chair beside him.

He remembered the man and some kind of accident, the boy thought, recalling the bodies, fire, and debris surrounding him the last time he had roused. He had been afraid, unsure of how he had gotten there in the midst of all the destruction. Wondering why he was alone because he was certain he had been with others.

A man and a woman. Close by. Holding his hand until…

An attack? he thought, not that he really remembered. He had a vague image of light so bright that it burned his eyes and face. Another memory suddenly came to him of
flying through the air and hitting something hard. Possibly a wall.

Then he had been all alone until the man had come to save him.

A jingling sound intruded and the bed dipped as a big old beagle rested its paws on the edge of the mattress. The huffing sound of its breathing and the clang of the dog’s tags as it shook its head woke the man.

Gingerly the man sat up, wincing from apparent stiffness. He scrubbed his face with his hands to wipe away the remnants of sleep. His dark eyes looked sad and tired, the boy thought. When the man realized that he was awake, he said, “How are you feeling?”

The boy shrugged and even that small movement brought discomfort as every muscle complained. “Hurts,” he said, surprised by his own voice. He didn’t remember what it sounded like. But then again, he didn’t recall much of anything.

Except fear. Fear was the only real memory alive in his brain.

The man nodded and stood awkwardly, as if in pain himself. He gently urged the dog away from the bed with a soft nudge of his knee and a “Scat, Spottie.” Then he faced him and said, “Why don’t you lie back down while I get you some food… His voice trailed off in question, but the boy didn’t understand what he wanted.

“Your name, son. What’s your name?”

The boy searched his brain, but couldn’t find the answer to that simple question, much less any of the others ricocheting through his brain.

“I don’t know.”

With a resigned sigh, the man said, “Could be the shot you took to your head. It’ll come back. Don’t worry.”

The boy lay down and as his head touched the pillow, he experienced tenderness at the back of his skull. He delicately rubbed his hand along the bump there, wondering how he had been hurt.

As soon as the man left the room, the beagle returned to the bed, but this time the dog scampered up right beside him. Almost as if sensing that he needed the comfort, the dog lay along his side and playfully butted his hand with the tip of its cold wet nose.

The dog’s antics pulled a smile to his face. He stroked the dog’s head, wondering if he’d had his own pet. There was something familiar about the dog’s actions that cried out to him as the warmth of the animal’s body seeped into his hand.

The boy welcomed the comforting warmth.

Unexpectedly the heat became even stronger, almost as if it had developed a life of its own. Beside him the dog whimpered, but the boy was too caught up in the surge of heat and vigor flowing through his body, driving away the assorted aches and pains.

With an almost tired groan, the dog’s body relaxed and the beagle released a weary little breath. Was it sick? he wondered, but then heard a soft snore and realized the dog was asleep.

He jumped from the bed, but there was something weird as he landed on the floor. He could barely see past the dusty skirt along the bottom of the mattress and as he moved, the wood on the floor was cold on both his hands and feet. On his paws, he realized as he padded out of the room, the scent of the man alive in his nostrils as he tracked him to the kitchen.

The man was at the sink, beating eggs, and turned as the boy entered the room.

“What are you up to, Spottie? Excited about our guest?” Smiling, he came close, bent down, and rubbed his head.

The boy tried to speak, but only a low woof erupted from his mouth. Fear took hold and he barked again, hoping to reach the man and make him understand.

The man heard the almost urgent yaps and peered at him more closely. He narrowed his eyes to examine him and must have realized the dog was different now. Lurching upright, the man ran back to the bedroom, the boy following awkwardly on all fours.

The man jerked to a stop as he noted the beagle sprawled on the bed, its muscles twitching as it chased imaginary prey in its sleep. With a hesitant glance from the dog lying on the comforter to the one hopping excitedly beside him, the man pivoted on his heel, looking all around the room as he sought out the boy.

The boy let out another yowl and jumped up and down on his front paws, long nails clacking on the floor, wanting the man to understand that he was right there.

The man finally dropped to his knees and touched the boy’s head. Trailed it down to cup the bottom of his long jowly jaw and urge his face upward. As the man’s gaze connected with the deep emerald of the dog’s eyes, the man’s eyes widened in stunned surprise.

“Holy Mother of God,” he whispered before scooping him up and holding him tight to his chest.

The boy let out a contented little mewl and wag of his tail at the comfort the embrace brought. The man would help him, the boy thought. And with his help, he would be home again soon.

Twenty Years Later, Jersey Shore, New Jersey

S
elina stood in the wash of the ocean, arms beckoning the sea breeze to sweep over her. The wind was like a living thing as she commanded it to circle around her and she fed from the power in its embrace. So different from the hot desert zephyrs to which she was accustomed. There was so much life from the wind’s journey over the vast ocean shifting and swirling before her.

Selina could better understand now why this clan of Light Hunters had chosen to live here along the water. The ocean and all that flowed from it would be an excellent source to recharge their life energies. With such power nearby, they could avoid taking from the humans as they hid in plain sight amongst their possible prey.

Even as she absorbed the refreshing energy, Selina was aware of her husband’s approach long before he slipped his arms around her waist and drew her against the lean
body that she would never tire of exploring. From the first moment she had seen him nearly forty years ago, his power had called to her the way two sides of a magnet drew one other.

“You feel it, don’t you?” Kellen said, but he wasn’t referring to their bond. He, too, sensed the life force emanating from the nature all around them.

“It’s hard not to sense such vitality. It makes me wonder why our ancestors chose the desert for our clan.”

He shrugged and laid his chin against the top of her head. She was a tall woman, but Kellen was well over six feet and broad, nearly swallowing her up as he held her. There was comfort in that physical power, although Kellen understood she possessed the more powerful Hunter gift.

“They thought we would be safe there. Away from the humans and the Shadows,” he replied, but there was a sadness in his tone that was impossible to miss. Their isolation in their desert commune had only made it easier for the Shadow Hunters to find them and attack. For nearly twenty years, Kellen had blamed himself for that fateful night and the loss of their son Kikin along with so many other members of their clan.

“We will find him this time. I know it.” Selina turned in his arms and laid her hand along the side of his face. She glanced around the beachfront to make sure they were alone before allowing her power to join with his. As she did so, the energy created a shimmering glow wherever skin met skin. Their auras brightened and merged into an iridescent red-gold, and within her core the power awakened passion, dark and demanding.

“I want to believe that,” Kellen said, dropping a kiss
at the edge of her brow before laying his forehead along hers. Beside her belly his desire was evident and growing stronger as their life forces melded with each other.

“Believe,” she whispered against his lips, caught up in the exchange of energy, an exchange made even more potent by the love she had for him.

He groaned and tightened his hold until not an inch separated them and returned her kiss before promising, “I will not fail you.”

Selina smiled, more hopeful than she had ever been that their search was finally over and their son Kikin would be with them soon. And when he was, the continued existence of both the Ocean and Desert clans of the Light Hunters would be guaranteed.

She knew that as surely as she knew the sun would rise each day to bless them with its power as it had for the many millennia that the Light Hunters had existed.

But for now, she wanted another kind of blessing, she thought as she took her husband’s hand and led him home, awaiting the satisfaction that only joining with him could bring.

The energy poured off the collection of bodies and equipment occupying the vast expanse of the SolTerra facility. The force of it sang in the air, and as he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, Adam Bruno experienced the rush as he absorbed that free-floating power into his body.

The strength of it surged along his nerve endings, making him almost light-headed from the vitality it created within his core. Lately the energy called to him more and more, almost demanding that he acknowledge his need for it.

Not that he had any choice but to do so. He could only ignore the energy for so long before a strange sense of emptiness developed within him. But replenishing the energy in his body had grown ever more difficult in the last few months, as his craving for it seemed to be growing exponentially. If he fed his need, the weight of the power would be heavy in his core and lead to pain that scratched at his brain like the noisy riff from a DJ mixing discordant tunes. At times the pain would be so great that he felt as if his brain might explode.