Death Has No Dominion

Death Has No Dominion

Status: In Progress

Genre: Thrillers

Details

Status: In Progress

Genre: Thrillers

Summary

Hand to sword he serves his king. Brothers in blood and conquest they bend and shape the world to their collective will. From the ashes of a brutal civil war they built an empire, and their hand-picked tyrants, rule without mercy or pity. A kingdom with no borders, it exists within every continent, country, and city across the globe. Hand to sword he stands with his king. Once defenders and protectors, their disillusionment became disdain then hate. They embraced the predator and declared humanity a means to end, chattel to do with as they wish. At war with their ancient enemy they are unaware of the threat that lurks in the shadows. Loyal to the light, their brethren rose from the ashes and swore to defend humanity from the Thirty Tyrants and their world order. A rebellion, pitting evil against evil has raged for over two hundred years. On one fateful night three people are drawn into this world, one from the top, the other from the bottom, and the third as a means to an end. A soldier, a thief, and a librarian set on their paths to a collision with the Thirty Tyrants, their Hand, and his King.

Summary

Hand to sword he serves his king. Brothers in blood and conquest they bend and shape the world to their collective will. From the ashes of a brutal civil war they built an empire, and their hand-picked tyrants, rule without mercy or pity. A kingdom with no borders, it exists within every continent, country, and city across the globe.
Hand to sword he stands with his king. Once defenders and protectors, their disillusionment became disdain then hate. They embraced the predator and declared humanity a means to end, chattel to do with as they wish.
At war with their ancient enemy they are unaware of the threat that lurks in the shadows. Loyal to the light, their brethren rose from the ashes and swore to defend humanity from the Thirty Tyrants and their world order. A rebellion, pitting evil against evil has raged for over two hundred years.
On one fateful night three people are drawn into this world, one from the top, the other from the bottom, and the third as a means to an end. A soldier, a thief, and a librarian set on their paths to a collision with the Thirty Tyrants, their Hand, and his King.

Chapter2 (v.1) - Chapter Two

Author Chapter Note

“My life closed twice before its close; It yet remains to see If immortality unveil A third event to me, So huge, so hopeless to conceive, As these that twice befell. Parting is all we know of heaven, And all we need of hell.” Emily Dickinson “Be men, or be more than men. Be steady to your purpose and firm as a rock. This ice is not made of such stuff as your hearts may be; it is mutable and cannot withstand you if you say it shall not.” Mary Shelley

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: November 22, 2016

Reads: 257

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: November 22, 2016

A A A

A A A

  Paul bolted upright, and looked around disoriented. For a split second he thought he'd heard someone screaming his name. He shook his head dispelling the fog and pulled his cigarettes from his pocket. He only smoked when he drank, and he was surprised to see two thirds of the pack gone already. Still fairly drunk, he swung his legs off the bed and searched for his lighter. Fumbling through his pockets a flash of red on the floor caught his attention. He made a grab for it and fell off the bed.


"Nobody saw it so it didn't happen," he muttered under his breath.


He reached for the lighter and hesitated. It looked strange, and he shifted to get a better look at the rug underneath him. A horse head, with a flowing mane of brown and purple, was set against a white backdrop. His lighter was sitting in the horse's eye, making it look demonic. Uneasiness rolled through him, and he really looked at the room. The walls were a soft purple, with pictures of horses everywhere. Bare spaces made things look off, and on closer inspection he saw nail holes. Photos were missing. The white dresser, nightstand, and bureau had purple and pink scrolling, and were bare of any knick knacks. 


Paul climbed to his feet and opened the closet door. It was filled with girl's clothing, and the missing photos and knick knacks were on the floor. Grabbing one, he saw a young girl with dark hair and eyes, standing next to a horse and grinning ear to ear. Maybe fourteen or fifteen, she was wearing riding clothes and holding a blue ribbon, proud of her win. Paul put the photo back and shut the door. This was not Kai's house.


He walked out of the bedroom and ran smack into Connor. He stumbled back and saw panic flash across Connor's face. "Hey Paul," he said, shakily. "I didn't know you were up."


"What's going on Connor?"


"What do you mean?"


"Where are the real owners of this place?" he said, rubbing the back of his now aching head. He needed another drink. "Did you do one of those B&B things? Housesitting?"


Connor suddenly laughed, all the tension disappearing. "You caught us. Damn, and I thought we were being clever. But do me a favor, don't tell anyone ok? It ruins the image we're cultivating. You know, wealth, power, and all that crap."


Paul shook his head, the uneasiness persisting.


"Really Paul, its all part of the fun. You should have seen the mansion we stayed in last week!"


For a moment he considered getting his things and leaving. But he'd be crazy to walk away from the payoff. He would do the job tomorrow, get his cash and leave. "Alright," he said. "No problem."


Connor laughed, and clapping him on the back, led him out to the pool. Shaking off the unease, he grabbed a beer and settled in, looking forward to Katlyn coming back. He noticed Leah glancing at him occasionally, but she didn't initiate a conversation. She stayed in a corner sipping her drink and watching. 

 

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The screaming stopped Serena cold, the horror and hopelessness saturating the very air. Then silence. The knots in her stomach, combined with the uncontrollable shaking, made it difficult to move. She tried closing her eyes and taking deep breaths but that only made it worse. All she could see was the guy lying on the floor, neck practically ripped in two, and his head bent so far back he looked like a checkmark. But a checkmark with bulging dead eyes and a face frozen in a grotesque smile.


"Find a phone," she breathed. She was hiding in an office, there had to be one. She crawled out from under the desk and poked her head up. Sticking out from under a pile of papers was a phone. She grabbed it and dialed 911. Nothing happened. She checked the cord, and it was plugged into the phone and the wall. Serena just stared. Her phone was in the car. No hiding in the office till help arrived, she had to find a working phone.


Serena took off her shoes in case she needed to move fast, and when she reached for her purse, she realized it was gone. The tug on her arm while she was running. The strap finally broke. No purse no keys, no keys no car. 

"Oh my God," she whispered. "This just keeps getting better and better."


Trying to remember where she'd lost the purse was futile, she couldn't roam through the building looking for it. She climbed to her feet and pressed her ear to the door. After a few minutes she opened the door a crack, and seeing no one, ventured out. In the center of the pod were desks, four rows of three. On the opposite side of the room was a map of the building, the big red, you are here, clearly visible. She picked up the closest phone and her stomach dropped. No dial tone. She tried every phone, and none of them worked. She figured they must have done it, that way they could hunt her down without worrying about the police. Whoever they were.


Serena studied the map, relieved to see the south hallway was only a few turns from the pod. If all went well she could out of the building in minutes. She wished she was still in the shape she was a year ago, but insomnia had created some bad habits. The extra padding, coupled with the terror, was leaching her strength away, making her muscles rubbery and useless. Taking some deep breaths she focused on the end result and willed herself to move.


"Panicked people die, calm people live," she whispered.


Apprehension weighed her down, making her legs heavy every time she passed a doorway, but she pressed on, and little by little made it through the first hallway. The second was even shorter, and with only restrooms and a storage closet, less doors to worry about.


Scraping behind her head, screaming her location like a siren, sent terror shooting through her limbs. She looked over her shoulder and saw her hood snagged on a fire extinguisher. It was hanging diagonally on the wall, another step and it would have crashed to the floor. She carefully slipped her arms out of her jacket and lifted it off the extinguisher. Looking up and down the hall, she expected to see attackers running towards her, but no one appeared. A couple shaky breaths later, she folded her jacket over her arm and kept moving, the anxiety deepening.


Serena felt like she was on a collision course she couldn't avoid, and her heart ached from the terrifying certainty of it. It reminded her of being behind the wheel, knowing you were about to slam into another car, and nothing would prevent it.


She approached the next turn, listening for the barest hint of sound. After thirty seconds of silence, she stepped into the open. She moved as quietly and quickly as she could, fighting the urge to run. She was halfway down the hall when a man stepped into view, blocking her way out. Serena froze, her heart in her throat. 


"I was working late and heard screaming," he said. "I thought I was going crazy until I saw you."


Her heart swelled and she was flooded with relief. She knew that voice. Opening her mouth, she started to step towards him then stopped, the greeting dying on her lips. She'd never seen him before.


He took a couple steps in her direction and reached out, motioning for her to follow. "We need to get out of here. I don't want to find out what can make a person scream like that. Do you?"


She didn't respond. He had the right expression of urgency, and his body was taught with tension, but something was off. Not only was he dressed too well, but people with the kind of money to wear a Patek Phillipe, like the one that poking out from under his sleeve, didn't have offices in this building. From his perfectly kept hair, to his manicured nails, down to his impeccably polished shoes, it all screamed out of place. She backed up, and when he matched her step for step she knew he was one of them.


Suddenly he lunged for her arm, but got a handful of her jacket instead. She shoved the jacket and shoes at him and ran back the way she'd come. He stumbled back in surprise, giving her a few seconds head start. She could hear him, right on her heels, as she reached the restrooms. Grabbing the fire extinguisher, she ducked down just in time. His fist hit the wall where her head had been with enough force to punch through, showering her with bits and pieces of the wall. Still in a crouch, Serena spun, smashing the fire extinguisher into his legs. His feet went out from under him and she jumped up running.


Hitting the south hall, she put all her energy into reaching the stairs. Once there, escape was only two floors away. Then she heard him coming fast. He'd overtake her before she made it out. She hit the stairwell and turned, holding the extinguisher like a baseball bat.


He slowed down a bemused an expression on his face. When she took a step toward him he stopped entirely regarding her with a mixture of amusement and respect. "You've got a backbone, I'll give you that. But the game is over now, you're caught."


Serena was terrified, but to have him arrogantly tell her she was caught, infuriated her. "Go to hell!"


Lowering his head a touch, he stared at her from under his brow, a small smile on his face. He approached a touch more cautiously, but relishing every moment of the kill.


Serena had only one idea and she wasn't sure it was going to work. She was trying to change her grip on the extinguisher without him noticing when he stopped moving. His smile disappeared, the color drained from his eyes, and they started shining. Panic welled up inside her, all the confidence she'd gained from getting the best of him twice gone.


He chuckled low in his throat. "Figure it out yet?"


He smiled and she almost dropped the fire extinguisher. "Oh my God," she breathed, staring at fangs.


"There we go," he said, and came at her.


She pulled the pin on the extinguisher and took a giant step back. Hanging in the air for a second, she came down hard a few steps down. Her right foot twinged but she couldn't baby it. She ran down the stairs, praying he would trip, fall, something, anything that would give her a shot at escaping.


A deep growl echoed through the stairwell and she was lifted up from behind. She thrashed around trying to throw him off balance, and hit him with the fire extinguisher. Smashing her heel into his thigh, she threw an elbow at his face, but he dodged and let his grip slip enough for her to hit the steps hard. Her right ankle buckled and an involuntary cry of pain escaped. He spun her around and shoved her at the wall. She smacked into it, then fell down the last few steps to the landing. The extinguisher flew out of her hands, hit the wall, and tumbled down the stairs. Serena climbed to her feet, even though her ankle was screaming, and made for the stairs, hearing the extinguisher smack into the doors below. She was lifted off the ground and slammed into the wall. Torrents of pain shot up her back and neck, but still she fought. She tried to punch him, but he grabbed her arm and slammed her into the wall again. Her head hit too, and everything went in and out of focus. Spent and in pain she hung there barely conscious.


Once he was satisfied she was no longer going to fight, he let her slide down the wall until her toes touched the floor. Grinning ear to ear, he got a handful of her hair and yanked her head back. Serena tried one last time to struggle but it was useless. Burning pain ripped through her neck, growing in intensity every second until she wanted to unleash the scream building in her chest. So when the darkness came, she surrendered to it gratefully.

 

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It took every ounce of self-control he had not to drain the woman dry. He wanted too. He wanted to tear her apart and lap up every last drop of blood in her body. It would be so easy. He tightened his grip, the craving overruling his control. His fangs pressed into her skin and he hesitated. It really wasn't a bad idea. She could be useful to him. She fought back and managed, however briefly, to hold her own. No begging or pleading for her life, no screaming either. Strange behavior and a little intriguing. He wondered what would make her scream if being confronted with certain death hadn't. There were definitely possibilities with this one.


The last trophy had been a mess, in every possible way. Insanity has a tendency to do that. The experience soured him on the whole thing, and he hadn't claimed a trophy in years. But this one was a fighter, she could be strong enough to make it worth his while. Hunting her had been quite a gratifying diversion. And he did require a consistent source of sustenance to sate his cravings.


He released his grip on her hair and lowered her to the floor. Taking slow, deep breaths, he sat on the steps and closed his eyes. The flame burned brightly in his mind, and he squeezed and released certain muscles, siphoning the heat into it. Gradually his fangs retracted and his eyes returned to normal. His body temperature was still high, but his violent and volatile urges were no longer a threat to his control. He opened his eyes and looked at his trophy, her blood tasted good. His eyes shone briefly and he reminded himself that the screamer was waiting for him downstairs. The tension eased even more at that thought and he picked up his unconscious trophy. When she woke, he'd see if she was worth keeping alive. He started down the stairs thinking about his cellar. It needed a new mattress.

 

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Paul finally gave up on Katlyn. It was too bad, he'd been looking forward to seeing if she had freckles anywhere else on her body. He stumbled inside the house, almost falling flat on his face. He'd been drinking heavily trying to dispel the unease, but it had only deepened. He needed to knock it off and find a place to crash. He took great pride in what he did, and he wasn't going to let a day of partying screw anything up.


He opened the door to the purple bedroom and saw two people in the bed. Laughing under his breath he closed the door, and wandered through the house finding most rooms occupied in a similar manner. He started down the corridor leading to the pool house and pulled out his cigarettes. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed something was off. Wood paneling lined the hall, and to his right the railing didn't quite match up. Paul smiled, he loved the idea of a secret room. Bed, couch, or chair, he needed sleep. Once he knew it was there it was easy to see the hidden handle. He opened the door and fumbled for his lighter with one hand, while searching for the light switch with the other. The door swung shut just as he flipped the switch. Something moved in his periphery and he looked up. All the air was sucked out of the room, and the cigarette he'd been about to light fell from his lips.


The girl from the photos was staring at him and she wasn't alone. Another girl, maybe a few years older, was sitting next her on a full size bed. They were both wearing white teddies, and were secured to the headboard with their wrists tied behind their back. Gagged, they stared at him terrified. On the floor in a corner was a woman who had to be the girl's mother. She was lying on her side, her hands and feet tied, and connected behind her back. By the torn clothing and bruises she'd fought tooth and nail. She struggled, her desperate gaze on her children.


Paul backed up, smacking into the door. "What the fuck?" he whispered.


Suddenly the door moved and he lurched forward. The girls whimpered in fear, and their mother's struggling intensified. Connor appeared, standing half in and half out of the room. "Paul," he said shaking his head, "this is bad." Connor grabbed his arm dragged him into the hall, firmly shutting the door behind them.


"Holy shit!" Paul exclaimed. "The family is on vacation right?"


He pulled his phone out of his pocket and Connor knocked it to the floor. Paul figured even drunk he could probably take him. Then he could call the police and get the family untied before anyone else knew what was happening.


"I told you rules and laws don't apply to us," Connor said. "We take what we want, and we wanted them, and the house."


"What the fuck is wrong with you? This is kidnapping and rape! There's nothing you can say that justifies what you're doing."


"One of the many perks that comes with being what we are," Kai said, walking up behind him with the other two, Leon and Corey, at his heels. "We don't have to justify anything to anyone."


Paul shifted, trying to keep them all in view. Kai smiled and he was jumped from behind. Searing pain tore through his neck, and for a split second he thought he was being stabbed. But when Corey and Leon latched onto his wrists he realized Connor's teeth were buried in his throat.


"Alright," Kai said. "Let him go."


Instantly Paul hit the floor. They stood over him blocking the light. There was no color in their eyes anymore, and fangs were protruding from their top and bottom gums. They exchanged glances and leered at him. 


"It's too late to bring someone new up to speed. We need him." Kai crouched down and tousled his hair. "It's your lucky day brother."


They kept going in and out of focus, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't lift his hands off the ground. One word kept repeating in his mind as he passed out. Vampires.


© Copyright 2018 Lucinda Paige. All rights reserved.

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