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The Chosen
The Chosen
The Chosen
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The Chosen

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There are legends of how the creators laid the seeds for the three races. The Vampires were said to have no aversion to sunlight. They were able to gain vitality through the blood of the animals they hunted, affording them great strength, agility, and immortality. Lycans could control their transformations, and control the feral instincts of the wolves they became. Human beings wielded a mastery over the four elemental forces. The three races each flourished in their own way until they grew large and began to infringe upon each other's territory. Squabbles increased, wars broke out and bloodshed became commonplace.

Angered over the violence perpetuated by their children, The Creators punished the three. Vampires were confined to the cold dark climates, their use of blood turned from an advantage into a debilitating addiction. The Lycans were stripped of their control, doomed to transform at the advent of each full moon, wandering as beasts. Human beings lost their elemental prowess, forced to endure the harsh climates in which they lived, to survive by their own devices.

The Chosen follows Ender, a Vampire with unique powers and a link to the history of the three races. When he kidnaps Ellie, a human girl with secrets of her own, it sets off a race against a tenuous alliance of Vampires and Lycans. Turk, desperate to use his son's gifts to save his people from extinction, has begrudgingly pledged allegiance to Jareth, the bloodthirsty leader of a clan of power-hungry Vampires. Both have faith in the legends that foretell of chosen members of each race whose blood can be mixed to end the curses levied upon the three.

Jareth wishes to unite them believing if it is his hand and his hand alone that draws the blood, it will mean the ascension of the Vampires above all others. Turk is hell bent on lifting the disease which has caused the destruction of his people, regardless of what it means for his son Evander, the chosen Lycan. Ender and Ellie travel across New York while being tracked by Evander, seeking the answers to their existence, the reasons they're being hunted, and above all else, survival. During their journeys they will be forced to make difficult decisions, weighing their own safety against the needs of those that are poised to fall subject to Jareth’s wrath, and begin to wonder who the villain really is.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateJun 24, 2011
ISBN9781465730824
The Chosen
Author

Alexander S. Bauer

I was abysmal at the kind of writing that gets you good grades in English classes, so I never wrote much until tenth grade, after my ninth grade teacher embraced my creativity. Since then I haven't been able to stop.The best way to describe myself would be complex. I lettered in two sports (Bowling and Baseball) in high school and captained two academic clubs (Science Olympiad and Math League. I'm a jock who likes to write, who watches Star Trek, who cares about LGBT issues and human sexuality. I'm a nerd that plays with legos and builds model railroads, but can also play sports. One day I'll read about psychology, then movies, then hockey, then history.I've written four full novels, a couple dozen short stories and somewhere around five hundred poems. As a writer I derive inspiration from Rowling, Orwell, Crichton, and a number of Star Trek novelists as well as every movie I've ever seen. I like fantasy, things that can't happen in real life, the creation of entire worlds in which both author and reader can immerse themselves. I like ambiguous characters, neither good nor bad. I like insidious heroes, bastards with hearts of gold, people that make you laugh and think at the same time.And I love to converse, so if you're like me, track me down somewhere and say hi.

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Rating: 3.5948276172413793 out of 5 stars
3.5/5

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  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    This book is non-stop action from the very first page. Really - you don't get to take a breather at all. My advice: grab a cup of tea, a comfy sofa and a nearby cat (borrow one if you don't have one) and settle in for the ride. Just started on book 2, and I am dying to see what transpires next. The kettle has boiled and the cat is waiting on the sofa, so off I go.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    The story is fast paced and the action is exciting. My only wish is that the underlying crisis is more clearly explained so I could decide who to root for.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    I really enjoyed this book. It was somewhat different than other Urban Fantasy/Sci-Fi. I was glad, however, that I had the second in the series to read immediately.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    An excellent introduction to The Chosen series. made me want to keep reading and the author provided the first chapter of the next novel so that readers do just that, so buckle up for a supernatural adventure destined to be spread over many years and to culminate with half-brother against half-brother to dominate the world, or so two factions believe and are determined to ensure their child is the triumphant one. And stuck in the middle is their mother, and the man who appears to be The Chosen her protector. A rollicking read.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Emma loves her son Jake and they are running form people who want to use Jake's ability to see the future. She will do anything to give her child a normal life. Fantasy with well written characters.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    This book is non-stop action from the very first page. Really - you don't get to take a breather at all. My advice: grab a cup of tea, a comfy sofa and a nearby cat (borrow one if you don't have one) and settle in for the ride. Just started on book 2, and I am dying to see what transpires next. The kettle has boiled and the cat is waiting on the sofa, so off I go.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    While the story became somewhat compelling towards the end, poor writing (the overwhelming majority of the sentences began with "she" or "he") and weak characters (namely the lead, a "damsel in distress") kept me from getting excited about this book. An interesting plot, and appropriate pacing gave this book a lot of potential, but, for me, it needed a lot more polishing.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    Do you remember that movie "Legion" that came out in 2009? The one with the storyline where a young pregnant woman, Charlie, finds out that her unborn child is the key to humanity's survival? This book has the same sort of storyline (just exchange "Legion's" angels for members of a secret society and throw in a little bit of the TV show "Supernatural", with the characters constantly being on the run and frequenting sketchy motels), with the main character, Emma, finding out that there is more than meets the eye when it comes to her son (and that he is caught in the middle of a battle between good and evil), but unlike the movie, this book is extremely well done and entertaining ("Legion" did not live up to my expectations whatsoever, but this book completely exceeded them). While there were numerous reasons why this book was so successful, Denise's writing style, the original storyline, and the likes of, I think that this book was most successful because of how fast paced and engaging it was. Because Will, Emma, and Jake were constantly on the move, fighting for their lives, etc., you could never find yourself bored with the storyline- you were seriously on the edge of your seat the entire time (and trying to guesstimate what Denise was going to throw at you next- an exploding truck? Another gun fight? A near drowning?). Furthermore, the large majority of her characters were so well-developed, complex, but, most of all, real. Despite all of the hardships that Will and Emma had endured in their lives, they remained strong, resilient, and grounded (while a lesser character would have curled up in a ball and cried). Though I must admit, that I did have a bit of trouble connecting to Emma's son, Jake (especially when he was behaving as if he was possessed- talking more eloquently and grown-up than any 5 year old I have ever seen before)- I did prefer the story more when he was not as involved in it. All in all, after reading this book it becomes evident that Denise is an author to keep your eye on. I cannot wait to see what she has in store for us in the next book in this series, "Hunted"!
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Denise Grover Swank always grabs my attention with her writing and as much as I want to savor the book, I feel like I always end up flying right through them. This one was a completly different genre then the first book I read from her, but stayed true to her writers voice that I loved so much in the previous story I read from her, twenty-eight and a half wishes. This book follows Emma Thompson and her son Jake, they've been on the run for as long as Emma can remember, from who they don't know, but she does know that they want to get her and they find her eventually everywhere they go. When Emma's young son Jake inisists they need a stranger named Will to accompany them on their way, Emma is not happy, Jake is however usually correct with his feelings and intuitions and those same feelings and intuitions are usually what gets them away from the people following them in just enough time to escape. Will Emma be able to eventually trust Will, or will Jake's intuitions lead them right into the hands of the men they've tried so hard to stay away from?This book is PACKED with action and intensity, with a bit of paranormal aspects thrown in there as well, which for me, who's usually hit or miss in the paranormal genre, felt like it had just the right amount, without feeling too far-fetched. I'm hoping that this book is a series, because I felt like the ending left me hanging and didn't answer some important questions, which is the only reason this book didn't get a full five stars, other then that, this book had me!!! (and it is a series, just had my questions answered, the second book is called, The Hunted)

Book preview

The Chosen - Alexander S. Bauer

Prologue

Several Thousand Years Ago

In the beginning, there were only The Creators. One in particular took an interest in earth. She seeded the land with three races, Humans, Vampires, and Lycans. They were very different than they are today.

Humans enjoyed a unique connection to the lands they inhabited. Each person wielded power over the four elemental forces, earth, water, wind, and fire. It gave them a significant advantage in tilling the soil, in developing agrarian communities, and enabled them to survive in the harshest climates of every corner of the earth.

Vampires once walked freely about in the sun. Their thirst for blood was an evolutionary advantage, not a biological imperative. The creatures they hunted were tools in their survival, not victims. Vampires could draw from them their vitality, their essence, and use it to their advantage. It gave them superb strength and agility, accelerated healing, and above all else, eternal youth.

Lycans enjoyed a connection to the animal world. They were able to transform at will into the wolf, a creature they admired for its tenacity, its loyalty, and its noble stature. They roamed the countryside, shifting between one form and the other, utilizing the advantages that each brought them.

Times began to change, humanity started to take over, spreading rapidly. Where Lycans and Vampires once enjoyed relative peace between each other, they found their territory invaded. They fought back, retaliating against the infringement with violence. The confrontations grew more cutthroat, more vicious and soon the three were at full scale war.

As the bloodshed continued, the races' Mother looked on in sadness, watching those that she had put on earth slowly destroy themselves. Eventually she came to the conclusion that the three were not worthy of the gifts that had been bestowed upon them and would need to be punished until there came a day when they could prove they were able to live peaceably once more.

Chapter 1

The Abduction

I looked over my shoulder into the back seat. She lie there, wrists bound as I’d left her, oddly peaceful after the chaotic moment that’d brought us together. Her prone form leaned against the handle-less door of the Charger, bending her at an angle that didn't look terribly comfortable. The shoulder strap to the seatbelt lay just above her head, writhing with each twist and turn. She slept quietly as a violent flash of blue and red in the back windshield made me look up. I let out a soft growl and licked my razor sharp canines, turning towards the road once more.

I stomped heavily on the gas pedal, mashing it to the floor with a heavy black boot. The car cut almost silently through the night over the barely paved surface of a particularly rural section of Connors road. The lights did not fall back, continuing to cast an ugly hue across the seats. The truth, which was backed up by the blood stains running in dry streams down her face, was that her sleep wasn't entirely natural.

We tore around the minute turns, starting to leave the aging Crown Victoria several lengths behind. Few vehicles could outrun a police cruiser and I was sitting in one. I’d gotten lucky, buying a black Dodge that had spent its past life running down speeders and drunks on the highway. The cage separating the front and back seats was gone, but the rear door handles and windows were still defunct, and the engine was formidable. The interior was stripped down, forgoing luxury for utility, perfectly suited for my uses.

I looked back again, I’d gained several hundred feet on the cruiser, and had put it just out of sight around one of the many turns and hills. I wasn't sure if it would be enough though, or if my plan to evade it would merely make us a pair of sitting ducks. The car crested over the next hill, seeming to float in the air for a few minutes before heading down and winding to the left. Praying that I had built enough of a lead and that the slope and the turn had us out of the cop’s line of sight, I popped the car into neutral and shut the engine off, morphing us into the darkness. Braking hard, I struggled against the lack of power steering, wrenching the vehicle off the road to the right. There was a bumpy dirt access that ran through the woods to a cornfield. The overgrowth was to a point where you wouldn't know it was there unless you were already safely past the tree line. I hoped that the cop didn't share my intimate knowledge of the area, driving about a hundred yards in before stopping completely. Silently, the two of us waited.

A few seconds later, the blue and red lights of our pursuer blurred past the access, now chasing a ghost. I breathed a short sigh of relief before turning back to my passenger. The bumpy ride had jarred her awake and she'd pulled herself into a more seated position. Her hood had become wrapped slightly around her head giving her a shadowed deathly appearance. She looked at me, not entirely with fear, not with hatred, but with curiosity and a depth that made me a little uncomfortable. I flashed my teeth at her again and fear played across her eyes, but she smiled faintly, laying back down.

I’d picked her up in one of the many developments, house farms, that dotted the roads near town. Clad entirely in black herself, she had almost been invisible. A midnight walk, a trip to the convenience store, either way it had been interrupted.

She had the lithe body of many her age, the toned, thick legs of a rider. I could smell the scent of horse she’d recently stabled, still wafting off her clothes. Her body gave off an impression of vulnerability. She was only a few pounds north of petite, but contained a surprising wiry strength that had given me more trouble than I liked to admit. She was tomboyish, though possessing enough feminine qualities to make her gender clear. A few strands of her nearly black hair had whipped about in the wind from beneath her hood, and the bust that subtlely strained against her clothes had made me want to abduct her for other reasons. Hidden beneath that hood had been an almost shockingly soft face that would not have seemed out of place beneath a glowing ring.

I had parked down one of the intersecting streets and trailed her. At first I thought she’d spotted me, when she stopped and looked around for several long moments before continuing her trek. Her steps had increased, forgoing silence for speed and the wind began to ruffle her clothes, mirroring what had to be a quickening heart rate. Something must have set off warning bells in her head. Not wanting to wait, I threw caution to the wind and hurried after her, desperately hoping my own footfalls were as silent as I thought. The wind was howling as I caught her from behind, blowing the hood off her head. She spun to face me as I tried to drag her back towards the car. Our eyes met, and for a moment it was as though we were swept into the eye of the storm. As we regarded each other there was a look of surprise and confusion on her face. It threw me for a moment, as it seemed the abduction itself was not what surprised her, merely the identity of her abducter. A split second later the moment was over and chaos resumed its dominance. She fought with a strength and ferocity I wasn't initially prepared for, raining down blow after blow across every part of me she could reach. Shocked, I lost my grip and she began to run. I reached out to grab her and only caught a piece. It was enough to send her tumbling awkwardly to the pavement. She tried to spin and catch her fall, but my grip caused her to only half succeed. Her hand slipped, her head bounced with a sickening thump, and she fell unconscious. The wind, seemingly sated, died down and brought about a calm that raised the hackles on my neck. It was almost as though the sky itself had been watching us. Quickly I pulled her into the darkness, bound her and took off.

My thoughts returned to the moment and I put the car slowly into gear, plodding carefully around the outer edge of the field, headlights off. The car lurched back and forth with every pothole and mound causing her to bounce uncomfortably around the back seat. Eventually we made our way back near the road, running parallel to it, but still cordoned off by the large drainage ditch. I drove until I could pull across a reaper’s access back onto pavement and towards civilization. As the car dipped and transitioned from the rough access to the smooth road, it was as though a switch were flipped. The car accelerated noiselessly and I began to feel safe again.

However, civilization was not where I wanted to be. Instead the dull light haze of the town disappeared behind us as I drove a half mile to the nearest intersection. We’d have to change vehicles, and we'd have to do it quickly, without being seen. The cops were looking for a black Charger now with my plates, and we couldn't afford to be in one. I knew of an elderly couple that lived on the corner of the next street. My only worry was that it brought us near where we'd evaded the police. Hopefully he was still chasing nothingness and wouldn't soon return to where we'd last been spotted. Shutting off the engine, I let momentum creep the car into their gravel driveway.

The dark windows and dull brick siding made the house look like a large mausoleum set beneath several tall oaks. I hoped the movement inside would be as nonexistent as it's cemetery doppelganger. I turned back to my captive, grabbing her black hoodie and pulling her close. She flailed helplessly, tumbling to the floor in front of the back seats into an uncomfortable kneeling position. She let out a gasp of fear as I sank my fangs down, but they met fabric and not flesh. Pulling sharply, I tore a large black strip off her sweatshirt, revealing a black tank top beneath.

Do I really need to gag you with this? She shook her head, grateful that she was, at least for the moment, not dinner. Good, because after I made sure the screams died in your throat, I’d have gagged you with something else. Her face turned to a faint smirk at the innuendo, her eyes betraying the fear not found on her lips. I grabbed her roughly and hauled her out of the car. I couldn't tell if her limp form and utter lack of any struggle was a concession to my power or an attempt to make herself as heavy as possible. I was more than happy to drag her around with her wrists and ankles tightly cinched than attempt to trust her to cooperate, however that didn't make her lack of a mobility any less of a disadvantage.

I carried her over my shoulder to the stand-alone garage, set back behind the house. After ensuring that the house didn't show any new signs of life, I grabbed the handle and heaved upwards. The dirty off-white door gave surprisingly little resistance as I slid it up as quietly as possible. As if someone rapidly illuminated the cave-like structure with a dimmer switch, objects and edges came into focus until I could pick them out amongst each other. When my eyes settled on the boat-like maroon vehicle I groaned inwardly.

The good part is, it's about as far from a Charger as you can get, she whispered softly in my ear after I'd set her down. I gave the back door handle a tug and somewhat to my surprise, it creaked open. I guided her in, set the child lock, and climbed behind the wheel.

I began fumbling with the panel beneath the old Cadillac's dash to get at the electronics before realizing my efforts were utterly unnecessary. The keys dangled in front of my face, glinting with reflected moonlight. Jesus Christ… I muttered under my breath.

The key turned and the old juggernaut roared to life as she adjusted herself in the back seat. Not willing to wait around to see if anyone had been lifted from their sleep at the sound of the old engine, I swiftly pulled out of the driveway and down the road. The cop was nowhere to be found, but he was the least of my worries.

Chapter 2

Jareth and Benedict

What this time, Benedict? Did you butcher another convent? Your antics are becoming predictable and annoying. Jareth reclined behind a large mahogany desk, an unidentifiable red mass sat on a plate before him. His face had the weathered look of a forty year old man that smoked heavily. His hair was cut short and graying at the edges. The dour visage he carried had remained that way for nearly one hundred years. In human society he might appear to be a grizzled trucker, not a creature that had murdered thousands.

No, I bring news, from upstate New York. Benedict said, lumbering a few steps forward. He was a sharp contrast to Jareth, shorter and stockier, his babyish face rounder, softer, arcs and curves to Jareth's edges and angles. He carried the look of an oaf, or of simple muscle, his often vacant expression hiding a sharp intelligence and ruthless cunning. His craftiness and utter lack of scruples, even for a vampire, had brought Benedict to a position as Jareth's right hand.

No, there are stories of a Vampire that ventures out in the daylight, he continued, his eyes wide with excitement, licking the blood of his last sloppily eaten meal off his face.

You yourself have gone out, heavily cloaked when in need of nourishment, Jareth said, largely ignoring the portly vampire and stuffing a dripping piece of food into his mouth. Inside his heart skipped a beat, but he revealed nothing.

Benedict paced back and forth across the sparse small office, the floorboards creaking beneath his weight. There was little in it besides Jareth's desk, chair, and laptop. He wondered why the elder Vampire even needed such a room, or what he did within its confines. Without cover Jareth. They say he drinks the blood of livestock. That he hunts during the day when people are occupied with work and their children.

Hearsay is unreliable Benedict, Jareth sat forward and frowned.

But, you realize what this could mean...

Of course I know what it means! Jareth spat, standing up suddenly, causing Benedict to jump. I continue to have little faith in the vagrants and degenerates you call your sources, though…and I loathe saying it, you are wrong far less often than you are correct. Make the necessary preparations; we must leave as soon as possible.

Benedict strode heavily from the room, slamming the old wooden door as he left. Jareth paused for a moment before conjuring a cell phone from one of his pockets and dialing. The voice on the other end of the line was deep and gravelly.

Yes?

We may have found our piece of the puzzle, Jareth said, relaxing in the chair once more.

Only found? Turk's voice was rife with skepticism, and only the slightest hint of hope.

Yes Turk, the hour draws nearer. I am traveling to upstate New York soon. I shall contact you again..

The human?

In time, Turk, in time.

Chapter 3

Ender and Ellie

The car rumbled down the road, the old engine accounting for most of the noise. Some thirty minutes later, I pulled off the main road to a long gravel stretch that cut into a seemingly solid expanse of woods. It was privately owned, leading to several riverfront homes. There was a small shack at the end of the drive that had belonged to me for several years.

Once I gathered enough momentum, I shifted the car into neutral and shut the engine off, making us harder to spot from the road. I'd made as much of the journey as I could with the engine silent and the car coasting along, the lack of head and tail lights keeping us from enemy eyes. With my vision, I could maneuver us through the darkness perfectly. A soft rustle from the back seat told me she'd roused from another brief nap and was sitting once again. I was surprised she found sleep so easily, given her situation, but I couldn't much blame her as it was nearly six in the morning. Unh, a grunt came from the back seat as the car veered sharply left at the bottom of the hill. I'd forgotten she couldn't see what was coming as easily as I could. We started uphill again and the car slowed, fighting gravity. I restarted the engine and resumed the journey, hoping we'd made it around the bend and out of sight safely. The gravel road curled along the river for another half mile passing a variety of houses, from spacious summer getaways to reclusive shanties before finally pulling into a small clearing just past a sign marking the dead end. A narrow path led through the trees to a one story building with peeling burgundy paint that looked more like an old bomb shelter than an inhabitable residence.

I parked the car grabbing a fistful of hoodie and hauling Ellie from the back seat. Flipping out a knife, and ignoring her gasps, I cut the bonds on her feet.

What if I run? she whispered softly, with a look that said she didn't quite believe the words were escaping her lips.

I grabbed the remaining ropes and tied them securely around her neck. You won't. Besides, I gestured to the surrounding darkness. Where would you go?

She almost lost her balance as I started forward, pulling her along harshly. We walked along in silence, crunching a few scattered leaves along the path. Movement from the corner of my eye caused me to come to an abrupt halt and her to run into the back of me.

Stay close, I whispered to her. I looked into the woods. There were two grey shapes circling around on either side of us. Not terribly subtle, I muttered, pulling Ellie nearer.

I tracked the movement of the left attacker through the trees first before checking the one on the right. The one on the left would arrive almost a full second before the other. I turned and drew the knife again, flipping the blade open. I could see him perfectly moving through the brush. Stones and leaves scattered about as he leapt towards us, thinking for a moment he'd caught me off guard. Before he could come crashing down into my back, I whirled and raked the knife down his chest. Though I'd attempted to avoid contact with him, the momentum of his jump carried the two of us into Ellie and to the ground. His body skidded to a halt a few feet away and fell limp. Ellie stared at the vaguely wolfish form, eyes wide with fear. She struggled to move herself away from the fight. The second assailant had sailed over the top of us, rolling onto the gravel. He growled and spun to face us, the smell of the dirty rags that covered him filled the air. At a glance, the attacker was almost human in form. Somehow the long sharp Lycan canines had not quite left him, and his hair was a stiff bristly gray. He clenched his fists and I noticed that his fingernails had yellowed and been sharpened to points.

I regarded him calmly, wondering whether he'd attack or flee, willing it to be the former. I could not hope to catch him. His eyes flitted from me, to her, to me again but he made no movement. I stepped backwards, towards her, never taking my eyes off him. I was prepared for it. I could see his muscles tense, almost feel the wave of adrenaline within the still moment. He lunged, snapping viciously at the air, it seemed more to intimidate than to cause actual harm. My blade flashed in the starlight, but I missed his chest, giving him a long gash down his shoulder. He yelped and fell away, expression slowly melting from anger into fear. He look at the two of us once more and seemed ready to make another advance, but when I moved in, he took off.

I turned to the prone figure lying a few feet away. He looked out of place, like a homeless man that had gotten lost in the woods. There was a sickeningly soft squish as I pressed the blade deep into his chest, making sure that the silver had finished the job. Ellie, who had managed to push herself to her feet seemed to be struggling between showing both gratitude and disgust. There was something else there as well, a certain pity for the now dead Lycan. It was an emotion I confess hadn't crossed my mind until I looked into her eyes. She struggled against her bonds, trying to find a position in which the rough rope didn't add increased pain to the cuts and scrapes she'd suffered in being thrown to the ground.

We were lucky. It was just past the full moon cycle, and while the form and the instincts of the wolf lingered, they did not dominate. If it had been on the eve of the full moon we would have faced two large wolves that I'd have been hard pressed to fend off. Well, perhaps not, I conceded, remembering that they'd all but plowed into each other over the top of us.

Silver blade, I said, tucking the knife away. I don’t think the other one will get too far, but let’s hope it’s not far enough. Either way, we’re both tired, come on.

We swiftly traversed the distance through the woods to the door of my shack. She seemed to be both comforted that I was near to protect her, and yet still fearful of my intentions. I flipped the light on once we entered, bringing the sparse furnishings of my shack into focus. The kitchen, consisting of a gas stove, fridge and sink wrapped around the back and right walls, opposite the small full bathroom that occupied the other corner. The bathroom door had hung slightly open and now rocked back and forth at our sudden intrusion. When I shut the door, the pillow that had been balanced precariously on the edge of my bed fell and rolled towards us on the right. She walked around the rest of the living area, looking with amusement at the old large couch, and literal junkyard of books, newspapers and the old television that had been stuffed in the corner.

I hung my coat on a bent nail by the door and turned to Ellie. She was shaking, probably due more to the still cold air than out of fear. I didn't have any heat in the shack, aside from the kitchen stove. I had no use for it. The girl had been remarkably calm all things considered. The blood from her head wound had dried painting a few long brown lines down the side of her olive skinned face. Her arms were scraped and bloody in some areas, her wrists red where they’d been forced against the ropes.

Soft green eyes were marked with rings of red. She’d been crying, though she’d done her best to hide it from me. The wounds looked unnecessarily harsh across the soft features of her face. I pulled her hood down, and inspected the head wound. It was fairly shallow, though some of the blood had matted in her wavy dark hair.

I led her into the bathroom and flicked the knife out again, this time only eliciting a slight flinch. I grabbed inside the neck of her black hoodie, pulling her clothes away from her body and sliced clean through them with the knife. She began to struggle, pushing away, but I held fast to the rope still tethered to her neck. Before she could react further, I spun her around and cut them away completely. Her muscles strained against the ropes, but it was a futile effort.

She started to kick at me, still trying to escape, but I pulled her close, eliminating her leverage. I whispered in her ear, stop. I could do much worse. Immediately her struggles lessened, though her heartbeat quickened and she still breathed heavily. Her eyes darted about, surveying her options, of which she found few. I cut away her jeans and tossed them aside as well, leaving shivering in a black bra, panties, and wearing a look of absolute terror.

I moved towards her again, knife in hand. She stepped away once more. Grabbing her leash, I jerked her forwards. She fell into my arms. Her skin was warm even though she still shook. I could feel the tense fear running throughout her body. Her head wound was close, I could smell the blood. While I didn't hunger for it like others of my kind would, there was a certain allure to her scent. As she trembled in my arms, still attempting to retain some semblance of composure, I realized a different strategy was necessary. I couldn't force trust into her, however much I tried, instead I'd have to earn it. And to do that, I'd have to bestow some on her. After holding her for a brief moment longer, I cut free her wrists and the ropes around her neck.

Soap, shampoo, towels, no windows, one door, I pointed to the various shelves and countertops around the room. I have things I must take care of. I left her standing with a mixed look of shock and relief.

White noise whispered its way into the rest of the shack as she started her shower. I turned the stove on and pulled a flask and some chicken meat from the freezer. Blood was essential to our survival, but it alone could not sustain us. I drew a misshapen pan from one of the cupboards that was cleaner than it looked and slid it into the oven along with several pieces of chicken, moving on into the living area.

It had been several days since I’d last set foot in the cabin, but newspaper articles and books and notes were strewn about like I'd never left. I moved a stack from the couch to a vacant spot on the floor and sat down, pawing through the other piles. Before I could react, one tipped, sending several clippings rustling to the floor. I cursed, giving up on attempting to create some semblance of order. They were all essential to my understanding, but like scattered puzzle pieces, they made little sense.

News Story from 1999.

Dawn and Evan Hendricks, ages 33 and 35, died last Tuesday when a freak thunderstorm leveled their house. Local scientists are at a loss to explain where the storm came from as there were no weather fronts in the area. Dawn worked as a teacher at Elden Elementary and Evan was an engineer at Jones, Kincaid and McGrave. They are survived by their daughter Ellyssa.

A blurb from 2001.

Local Weatherman and Wife Adopt Hendricks Orphan

The girl that acquired some notoriety when her parents were killed by a freak storm two years ago has ironically been adopted by News Channel Nine's meteorologist, Edward Hawthorne and his wife Yvonne. Hawthorne, who has been known for his outlandish attire and bold, often comically wrong predictions--

The clipping was torn at the bottom, and several other headlines dotted the table. I scraped them hastily into a new pile and set it aside as the shower continued to run. Sighing and sinking wearily into the couch, I drank from the flask and tried to organize my thoughts from the past several weeks.

Ellie's parents had died due to mysterious circumstances ten years ago in what eventually became known as the Labor Day Storm. It had uprooted trees and ravaged houses and power lines across their town, seemingly out of nowhere.

Not more than a month later, the local Meteorologist Edward Hawthorne and his wife had begun the adoption process. The circumstances had been somewhat mysterious as the Hawthornes were in their mid fifties and had already raised their children and seen them on as adults. Less than a year later, Ellyssa Hendricks became Ellyssa Hawthorne, at least in name and public appearance. From what I could tell, at home Ellyssa was almost completely ignored aside from when the overprotective Hawthornes thought she could potentially be in danger. She'd somehow managed to sneak out on a brisk January night not a week after the Hawthornes had increased her guard. It was then that I made my move.

I'd been keeping

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