The Gathering Book 1 The Remnant: A Dystopian Paranormal Story

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors imagination or are used factiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their contents.

The Gathering Book 1 The Remnant: A Dystopian Paranormal Story Copyright © 2014 Shawn Y. Spjut (a.k.a. Keri Westin)

Published by Reigning Press; All Rights Reserved

Cover design by Shawn Y. Spjut

Cover Photo Illustration: 'Wally'; Roseville Tunnel; Wikimedia Commons

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the authors' rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

Dedication

To my parents, Bert & Yvonne Lyford, who never stopped encouraging me to spread my wings and learn how to fly.

Acknowledgements

The Remnant: A Dystopian Paranormal Story, began as a way to employ my bi-monthly 500 word-count writing prompts into something that would allow me to flex my imagination. As time went on and the story started to grow and take on a life of its own, it became so much more than simply a way to see whether I could tell a story 500 words at a time. I like to thank my friends and fellow authors at 'Kickstarters', Tony Kief, Eleanor Orme, and Fai Dawson, for their encouragement and critiquing skills. Particularly Tony, for always believing in the writer and their pen and never, ever, failing to show up for the meetings.

Chapter 1 Cookies, Manhole Covers & Curtains of Darkness

The wisp of flesh and bone hunkered down behind a stack of rancid slop buckets, eyeing the object balanced precariously on the edge of the half-opened manhole. Twigs licked his lips. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen a cookie. Now he was looking at an unopened, unclaimed bag of them.

Ever so carefully he leaned out, his eyes sweeping the alley to either side, the noise coming from his stomach a reminder of how long it had been since he'd last eaten. Yet with hunger gnawing at his insides, the boy knew it was suicide to try to grab the cookies before first making sure it wasn't a trick. Just that morning Spider had reminded them to be careful about taking anything left near doorways or alleys.

Twigs chewed on his lower lip. Of course, he'd also been reminded not to get separated, which he'd done the moment he took off without telling the others where he was going.

The hair on the back of his arms and neck stood up, his heart drumming against thinly covered ribs. Something had entered the alley and was hiding near the entrance. Willing himself unseen, the young damphir's eyes sought for who or what, praying the stench of garbage, raw sewage, and decay would not only mask his presence, but discourage whatever it was, from coming any closer.

Time felt suspended as his eyes explored the alley, stick thin limbs shivering in sunlight that would all too soon be directly overhead, abolishing every shadow and hiding place, including his own. Sounds became more pronounced and images confused as he struggled to remain calm, the survival skills he'd learned competing with the all too real terror of becoming someone's next meal. Hands he dare not wipe on the leg of his pants for fear of making any kind of noise, gripped the edge of the bucket in front of him, with white-knuckle force

Twigs heard the whisper of Dash's voice, reminding him the best way to slow his racing heart. How to quiet the fear and be still.

Breath in. Breath out.

Images of what living without fear might look, once Spider took the to their new home up north.

A cloudless sunrise.

A bird in flight.

The gentle lap of water on a sand filled shoreline. The sound of his family sleeping—their dreams undisturbed.

It wasn't long before his heart no longer pounded in his head and his breathing, though not fully normal, no longer made him dizzy.

When he finally returned to the reality around him, it was to discover whatever had come into the alley was now gone, leaving him once again with the decision whether to snatch the package of cookies and risk being caught in a trap, or leave without them.

Seconds later, the sound of Twigs muffled screams quickly faded away as the pale hand of his captor slid the manhole cover back into place. Several blocks away, the grate of yet another manhole cover was seen sliding back, followed by the sound of an unopened bag of cookies being pushed out to rest precariously on its rim.

Chapter 2 Badda Boom Badda Bang

While Spider waited for word on Twigs, he thought about what Yoda shared at their last meeting. Not only were the humans beginning to look at the other races as a viable source of food, but something that could be neither seen nor smelt, and left no visible tracks, had taken up residency in the tunnels beneath the city, and was stealing Ratter's people.

All the more reason for taking his tribe north into Canada, where they would be able to raise their children without fear of Strigori vampires stealing them for food, or Rodannian sorcerers using them to breed more reavers.

The creature hidden within him began to stir, their shared hatred for those who sought to enslave any race seen as inferior to their own, something he had no intention of allowing to go unchallenged. But that would have to come later. For now his first priority was to ensure the continued survival of his people, and the only way to do that, was to get them out of Seattle.

The sound of hurried feet reached just before a tall, slender, young man with carrot red hair, freckled face and eyes the color of grass, burst into the room.

Did you find him? Spider demanded, impatient to discover whether Wrench and Axle had found the missing Twigs.

Wrench drug a hand through his hair. We went back over each inch of yesterday's route. Even checked out all the alleys and hidey holes. Any place a kid could hide.

And you found nothing? Spider asked, feeling he'd been punched in the gut.

The other shook his head.

I warned him not to leave the group, he cried, shoving back from his desk with enough force to up end his chair. More than a dozen children had gone missing within the last couple of months, most from tribes that lived deep beneath the city. Children were too few, and too precious, to lose even one—especially if it was one of their own. Damphirs didn't reproduce often, so when they did, keeping their offspring safe became one his top priorities.

Spider closed his eyes, counted to ten, righted the chair before walking round to the front of the desk and leaning a hip against its edge. I want you and Axle to go back out, have another look. If you still can't find him, try the Ratters and Morphkind. Maybe he's with one of them.

Axle's at the den? Wrench sighed.

Whip cord fast, Spider's body tensed. He didn't come back with you?

No. We split up to cover more territory, he told him. I just assumed he came back here when he was done.

Shit! Spider snapped. "First Twigs, now Axle. I want you to go get. . .

The rest of the sentence was lost as both damphirs froze and turned, stilettos sheathed to the inside of their forearms dropping down into waiting hands, ready to plunge into the heart of the first reaver to come through the doors in front of them.

Spider pushed all thoughts of Twigs and Axle aside, the hold on his blades tightening as he listened to the hearts of those without; the whoosh of each valve muscle as it pushed blood from one chamber to the next; arteries, veins, capillaries distended from the pressure of warm blood roaring through them.

As the sweet scent of reaver's blood began to fill his nostrils, he could feel the damphir in him rage, the life force contained within each of the creatures in the other room, like a siren call to his own.

Spider flexed his fingers around the knives grip, keeping his beast on a tight leach. He and the damphir had been here before. Maybe a different time, a different city or different players, but the reasons were always the same—kill the abominations created by the sons of Cain.

~~~~~~

Crouched beside his leader, Wrench felt the beast within him rise up, drawing on its ability to sense magic. Though each damphir possessed similar characteristics, they often demonstrated vastly different skills and abilities. For instance, Spider's skills were those of a hunter, sensing his prey well before he came upon it. The ability to hear hearts and smell blood was far superior to Wrenches or most of the others. But since he had little or no sensitivity to magic, he depended on Wrench and Aryan to tell him when those same hearts belonged to a mage or wizard.

Wrench shook his head, trying not to let the loss of Twigs, or the fact that his best friend may not have made it back to the den, keep him from doing his job. Spider was counting on him. A reaver could be killed by a blade to the heart, but a wizard was capable of spelling themselves into a cocoon of safety while still raining down death on everyone else. He pushed aside doubt and speculation, gathered up the damphir's power, and focused it on the other room.

What he found had him squaring his shoulders back. Three reavers and their handlers.

Well that sucks, Spider growled next to him.

He could feel the damphir in the other man surge against its restraints, and just as quickly, Spider exerting his own will, reining it in, refusing to allow the monster that shared his skin, to take control. Regardless of how much their ability to hunt down and kill vampires depended on it, once released, it was no easy task trying to force a damphir to go dormant again. Yet it was that very thing that allowed them to defeat a sorcerer and its thrall.

Wrench adjusted the grip on his knives, started to shift his weight and was catapulted across the room, his body colliding with the wall behind him as an explosion rocked the building. Pain tore through the back of his head, shoulders and hip. Dazed and bruised, but otherwise unharmed, he pushed off the wall. To his right lay Spider, eyes closed, his body not moving. Beyond him, standing just inside a giant hole in what used to be a steel fortified wall, stood a reaver—the twisted bodies of a wizard and mage, hanging from either hand.

At well over six and a half feet tall, the blue mountain of bone, flesh and steroids stood less than ten feet away, its shoulders as broad as small buildings, its arms and legs reminding Wrench of the old sewer pipes running under 'Gas Works Park'. Bony angles, pointed teeth and deep set eyes below horizontal corn-rows the color of bloated fish, formed the bases of a dome-like head whose ears were nearly non-existent.

Wrench reached out and grabbed Spider's arm. Spider! Spider . . . wake up! Spider moaned, pushed himself upright, rubbing at his eyes with the heel of his hand.

I assume since he’s moving, I didn’t kill him, came a graveled voice from the other side of the room. But if you two don’t want to end up in one of Lord Thuell's experiments, you best pick your sorry selves up, and come with me.

Chapter 3 Unlikely Allies

Spider's entire body stiffened as the reaver's voice scrapped across his skin, the roar of the creature within him filling his mind, the smell of his enemies blood causing his pupils to dilate and his fangs to slide down, grazing his lower lip. In seconds the hunger to kill swept aside whatever pain or confusion he might have sustained in the explosion.

Long knives in hand, he leapt to his feet, ready to attack, his own beast in sync with Wrench's. Instinctively they split up, the younger damphir moving to left, Spider to the right, as they sought to divide the reaver's attention long enough for one or both to attack.

They followed the giant as it backed up, the broken body of its handler and mage held as shields against their blades. It wasn't long until they had it backed into a wall.

Now boys, it said, I’d love to sit and chat about this, but it'll have ta wait. Right now there are a dozen more just like this mage, on their way ta make sure Spidey doesn't leave the city.

The damphir's voice continued to hammer at Spider, its thirst for the reaver's blood a hunger that could never be satisfied. Yet, despite the blood lust running through his veins, Spider held back. Reavers didn't turn on their handlers - not if they wanted to live. Bred by Rodannian to hunt and kill damphir's, the part vampire, part monster, was enthralled to whoever wore the wrist band controlling it, and had no choice but to do as told. So how had this one managed to kill not one, but two of its handlers? Not only that, but why was it warning he and Wrench that Thuell and others were on the way?

The damphir's claws scrapped over the inside of his skin, pressing to be released. As far as it was concerned, Spider needed to kill first, ask questions later. It took all his will to keep the damphir from taking over and attacking. A dead reaver couldn't tell him what he needed to know.

~~~~~

While the reaver named Gloriach watched to see what Spider decided to do, he concentrated on keeping his monster under control. With so little time left to convince the other man that he was there to help them get out of the city, not kill them, he couldn't afford to waste time in a rival demonstration of power. Somehow he had to find a way to get past the damphir's instinct to hunt creatures like himself, long enough to make Spider listen.

One of the things that set Gloriach apart from the other reavers, was his ability to weigh the odds of survival. A natural born killer, bred by its masters to feed off the blood of other's, it was rare to find one his kind willing to control its own instincts in favor of something better. That’s why the Rodannians found most reavers such easy prey. Put a collar around their necks, set it for kill, and they would do whatever they were told. And for the most part a reaver never gave its existence a second thought. Why should they? They were given all the amenities they could want: food, shelter, and a future someone else was in charge of.

But that's not how Gloriach saw it. If he gauged the probability of killing his target without prolonged damage to himself were better than average, he wouldn't hesitate to do whatever needed doing. On the other hand, if he felt the chances of survival were in his targets favor, and backing down meant he’d see another sunrise—as far as he was concerned, better to be cautious and live to hunt another day, than be an idiot and die.

Mindful that time was not in their favor, the giant made a calculated decision. One he hoped he wouldn’t regret.

Look. I know you’ve no reason to believe me, he said, trying not to let the sight of Spider and his lieutenant closing in, effect his resolve. But I’m here to help, not kill.

Licking lips too small for such a large head, he tried again. Look mates. I wish we had time to talk all this through, but Jojeb and the Conclave know you and the Morphkind are plannin to try ta leave the city, and sent me and these fellas, he held up the lifeless bodies still gripped in his hands, ta stop ya. But I’ve decided that I like the looks of ya, he continued, his smile revealing even more teeth. Thought I might invite myself along, seeings how yer gonna need someone as big and ugly as me, to watch yer back.

He waited for their response, watching the conflict of emotions slide over Spider's features. It didn't take magic to know what the damphir was thinking - hatred warring with curiosity, warring with a desire to kill, warring against the need to confirm if what Gloriach had just told him about the Conclave, was true. Hell, if it had been him, instead of the damphir, he would have killed first, asked questions later.

Good thing for everyone he wasn't.

~~~~~~

Unaccustomed as he was to hearing reaver’s talk, Spider hesitated. If there was the slightest chance the Conclave knew about they're decision to leave the city, he had a responsibility to the others to find out. On the other hand, this could all be a trap, and the minute he let his guard down, there would be a wizard who'd found a way to cloak his heartbeat, waiting outside to either kill or take them captive. Probably the later.

He needed to buy himself a few minutes to think. Yeah? Tell me another story. Like maybe how you’ve had a change of heart and decided to become a vegetarian instead.

Naw, the reaver chuckled. But who knows? It might be nice havin a choice, instead of the same old thing. The taste of iron can get a bit. . .well. . .you know. . .boring.

Eyes fully dilated, Spiders saw the tick just beneath the reaver's jaw, noticed how it tried to watch the door from out of its peripheral and the deepening furrow between its eyes. Again, that sense that things just didn't add up. Reaver's didn't just kill their masters, neither did they invite themselves to join a group who had spent centuries hunting them down—not unless they had a death wish. No, if this over-sized killer was—

Spider stared at the reaver's neck. A neck that no longer had a torque around it. One that would have been put around its neck at birth, and because of its magic based properties, could not be removed until the reaver was dead. And , only by cutting off its head. Controlled via an arm band worn by the handler, reavers were punished unmercifully for any infraction or attempt to disobey. Sorcerer's believed in absolute obedience, and made no allowance for any thing else.

Where's you're collar? he demanded.

He glanced at Wrench and saw the same thought register with him. Yeah! Where's the collar?

The reaver rolled his shoulders forward, slumping his spine just enough to give the impression of defeat. I was feeling a little too restricted, it answered, so I took it off.

Prepared for a lie, the honesty gave Spider pause.

Look, I know it’s hard as hell to believe anything I'm saying, the reaver chuffed, and trust me, if I had the luxury of courting you, I’d a done it. But if we don’t move, and I mean now, you and I won’t need to worry about a second date.

Keeping his beast on short leash, Spider allowed it just enough length to test whether the reaver was lying. Converging on them from all directions, he picked up the scent of two other reavers. Ahead and to the left, the heart beat of four more - whether reavers or wizards, he didn't know.

He looked to Wrench for confirmation.

I count at least two, maybe three wizards, the other answered, adding, One in the entry, the other in the corridor behind him, nodding towards the reaver in front of them. Wrench's jaw tightened. You're not seriously thinkin' of listening to this blood sucker, are you?

Through the wall Spider could hear the whoosh of hearts pounding blood through veins, arteries, the smell of adrenaline as it kicked in, driving the wizards and their reavers to move quickly, almost carelessly. If the only reaver he had to worry about was the one in front of him, it wouldn't have been a problem. Even a reaver as big as this one, was no match for two damphirs. But the odds of their surviving three, plus the wizards . . .

He stared at Wrench, I don't see where we have a choice. We're surrounded, and the others are too far away to do us any good.

To the reaver, What do you have in mind?

Are you nuts? Wrench cried, fangs dropped, his anger slamming into Spider, a red ring encircling his pupils. When has a reaver ever done anything but murder our kind?

Spider understood the boy's rage. You couldn’t watch your entire family be torn apart by a pack of renegade vampires, and walk away reasonable—and it was that very thing that made Wrench such a deadly killer. Once the beast was unleashed, the boy was unstoppable until there wasn't a single reaver left alive. But right now wasn't the time to let history blind them to their present reality - despite not knowing how the reaver managed to lose the collar and kill two of its kind, plus a wizard and a mage. The reavers - yeah. But a wizard and a mage? That took some serious power. The sound of beating hearts and pounding feet were closing in.

He slid the blades back into the sheaths. What do you need?

Chapter 4 Don’t Eat the Purple One

Gloriach knew better than ignoring the younger man's hatred, but between the enemy within and those without, he didn't have a choice. Either convince Spider and the others to let him come along, or his mate and their newlings would die.

He removed Angel from it sheath between his shoulders, with the seamless ease of one who has no remorse for what he is about to do, used the machete to separate the wizard's hand from his lifeless body. With a thud the appendage hit the floor, a glyph covered silver cuff bouncing twice before it rolled to a stop against Gloriach's boot.

The scent of blood jerked on his canines, filling his nostrils and clouding his thoughts, making it difficult to remember exactly why he was there. He looked up and saw two damphirs through a pale haze of pink. Gloriach forced down the urge to feed, took his time wiping his blade clean on the wizards robes. By the time he had Angel back in her sheath, he was able to handle the blood splattered bracelet up without losing control.

This is a one time shot, so you'll need to stand next to me for this to work. He saw an unspoken look of disbelief pass between Spider and his lieutenant. With a history as blooded as their own, he had a good idea what was going through their heads. Making yet another life threatening decision, he drew the machete out again, and tossed it to Spider.

Take this. If you think for even a tick I'm double crossin ya, use it.

Spider caught the blade by its handle, stared at it for a few seconds before tossing it back. If I think for even a second that you’re dealin, I won't need a blade to separate you from that lump between your shoulders.

Gloriach caught the weapon, grinned, sliding the blade back in its sheath. Removing a pouch from the wizard cloak, he poured out a handful of capsule, some green, some purple. He held them out to the damphirs.

You’ll need to take one of these, just don’t eat the purple one.

Without visible signs of movement the reaver found himself face to face with both damphirs, rage and hatred like a living thing emanating from the younger of the two. Gloriach hoped Spider had control of the boy, since he didn’t want to regret what he was about to do. When they'd each taken a capsule, he tossed the rest, tapped something out on the bracelet

Actual contact works best, he told them, so you’ll need to grab my arm. He didn't bother to hide the chuckle when first one, the other growled.

Chapter 5 Boats & Pirates

Aryan continued to keep a close watch on the receding shoreline, the fan like creases around her eyes and mouth becoming more pinched the further Pedal rowed the small craft out into deeper waters, towards Vashon Island and the monastery where Aryan would finally get the medicine she needed.

It had been more than three days since her last insulin shot, and her ability to stay warm and keep the shaking to a minimum, was getting harder with each passing hour. She'd been doing alright until last night, but with so little food to go around, she hadn't been able to eat more than a few mouthfuls, sharing the rest with Jonas, one of the lost boys Spider had rescued from a group of vampires set on making him their plaything.

To take her mind off her condition, Aryan made herself focus instead on the way the suns early light formed multi colored swirls