79-Words Daily 2013 #90-Death’s Cry (Run This Town Part II)

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79-Words Daily, Run This Town, Supernatural, Supernatural Fiction, Werewolves, Writing

Death’s Cry (Run This Town Part II)

A fleet of humans rushed into our home just after 9 p.m.

My mother grabbed us and raced to our hideout.

Prepubescent and enraged, I was ready to attack, to save my family just as my father would have but my mother stopped me. She stuffed some cash in my hand and said, “Run, Niko!”

My sister and I barely made it two blocks when we heard the gunshots. My mother’s call shook the night.

 

79-Words Daily #88-Miscalculation (Run This Town- Part I)

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79-Words Daily, Run This Town, Supernatural, Supernatural Fiction, Vampires, Werewolves, Writing

Miscalculation (Run This Town- Part I)

The arena lights burned into the center of the ring. Sydney was on the left and Rocko the right.

The action came rapid, the wolf charged the immortal at full speed. It was like a violent ballet; all the leaps, jumps and lunges but this was not entertainment.

Someone had to die.

Rocko miscalculated move cost him; Sydney drove her fangs into his neck.

A winner was proclaimed and the game was over.

For now.

 

79-Words Daily 2013 #76-Full Moon

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79-Words Daily, Supernatural, Supernatural Fiction, Werewolves, Writing

Full Moon

I should have just said no, but I accepted his drink at the bar. In minutes were talking and within the hour we were exchanging numbers.

There was something so masculine and sensual about his golden eyes and the molds of muscle that made him was perfection at its best.

Something so right had to be wrong and when the full moon came into view, I saw just how deadly one drink could really be.

79-Words Daily 2013 #37-Inheritance

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Family, Supernatural, Supernatural Fiction, Vampires, Werewolves, Writing

Inheritance 

My mother’s secrets were her own. At least that was what I thought but now at the ripe age of thirty, I have realized that her secrets are now my crosses to bear.

She left me nothing but books and danger. If only she left me a roadmap, helping me navigate this new life.

No warnings or words about the vampires, the werewolves or these damn witches that want me for dead.

Thank you mom.

79-Words Daily 2013 #29-Transition

Tags

Fiction, Supernatural, Werewolves, Writing

 

Transition

I raced into the wood line with my body afire. My feet carried me through the trees at a speed I never knew I was capable of achieving; with my chest ripping from the inside out.

The moon cheered me on as I ran; its fullness teasing and calling to me at the same time. My body felt heavier and stronger.

In seconds, the woman I knew faded and a monster was born seeking revenge.

 

79-Words Daily 2013 #8- Fight or Flight

Tags

Fiction, Vampires, Werewolves

 

Fight or Flight

I wanted to be weightless, better yet invisible. Surrounded by so many ravenous beings in one area was enough to make me sick.

Everything that mattered to me was gone and I was left here. Left to die. I should’ve been scared, instead I was embarrassed.

These fuckers had no idea who they were messing with.

The first one to make a move bared his jagged teeth first.

I just smiled and cocked my pistol.

Cafe Blurb (Photo Inspired): Hunger

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Cafe Blurb, Photo Inspired, Vampires, Werewolves, Writing

There was hunger in his eyes. Insatiable, longing and determined.

His eyes were golden globes of lust and a deep growl vibrated from his throat.

He was warning me…

Taunting me…

Calling to me…

As he feasted on that werewolf, I couldn’t help the smile that had eased across my supple lips. As chilling as the scene was, I loved the reality that we were facing.

The wolves weren’t the only ones who could transform….we too were able to shapeshift.

Suddenly, I felt like for the first time in over a century, the bloodsuckers had an advantage.

Daily Blend: The Drop Zone

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Daily Blends, Vampires, Werewolves, Writing

Chilled droplets of water hit my face before sliding down my neck; I blinked once…twice then shot up. My heart raced as my eyes met darkness. Still darkness. “Hello?” I called dryly. My throat was strained and ached; a glass of ice water would have soothed it but judging by the cold concrete flooring, I was definitely nowhere near a place of comfort. I climbed on all fours, held out one hand and started to feel my way through the darkness. I strained to feel for something that felt familiar or that could help me piece together the jumble of a puzzle in my head. My fingertips grazed a wall made of jagged brick and mortar.

Where the hell was I?

“Hello?” I cried out. My voice traveled up and echoed through the room. No reply aided my call. “Is there anyone here? Can you hear me?”

“They can hear you…” a voice replied. It was a familiar voice. I knew that voice. “But they won’t answer you…” That deep voice, I knew it well; it was as bold as sin yet smooth as butter and had been a near deadly part of my past life.

“L-Lennox?” I heard a rough contact followed by the dull smell of sulfur. Suddenly the room was filled with a dim orange glow and I met my cellmate.

He stared at me over the small flame; those chocolately hazel eyes that I adored so much went deep and his pouty pink lips pursed together, no doubt he was hiding his delight to find me there. My heart ascended to my throat; I tried to swallow it but it would not budge. I ignored the emotions and sensations that were pulsing through me as I spoke to him. “Lennox what are you-we doing here?”

I watched his scrap together some dry grass that was tucked in a corner near him; quickly he dropped the dying flame onto the small heap and watched the controlled fire spread. He tilted his head, looked at me and smiled, “Isis Carter…” He said my name with such a seductive growl that I had to remind myself that I was trapped somewhere and that now was not the time to get turned on by an ex. But nonetheless, an icy chill passed through my entire body and knew for sure that it was not the room’s fault.

“We meet again…”

“Lennox, how did we get here?” He rested his head against the brick wall and shook it from side to side. The small fire that he set allowed me to take in some detail of our prison. The room was no bigger than a simple hotel room, windowless and stone cold. The ceiling was made of concrete as well and had a large opening located right over where I believed I had laid. I instantly dubbed the hole the drop zone. It was only logical.

My eyes then returned to Lennox; his hands were shackled together as well as his feet. There was a thick metal apparatus that plated his chest and resembled a bulletproof vest but there was something different about the vest that he wore; judging by the disgruntled look on his face, the vest was another yet brutal form of restraint.

But why?

Instantly after surveying Lennox’s state, I glanced down at my hands and feet. No shackles, no cuffs…nothing. In fact, I was still dressed in my work scrubs, sans my hospital shoes. “Lennox, how did you get here?” I asked softly, suddenly concerned about who could hear us. His beautifully solid features stiffened under the glow of the fire.

Damn, he was so beautiful. He closed his eyes and shook his head again before he opened them and looked up at the drop zone. “I don’t know. One minute, I’m at my body shop closing up for the night and then everything goes black and I’m here…”

“And the shackles and body armor?” I questioned. Lennox glanced down at his restrictions and chuckled softly.

“These are for their safety…and your gain.” He smirked.

365 Blend Series: #13- Social Set Up (WriteOneLeaf Prompt)

Tags

Vampires, Werewolves, Write One Leaf, Writing, Writing Prompt

            A grand orchestra began to play as massive spotlights shot up into the clear night sky and  beamed beyond the top of the US Capitol building. I could only imagine how tourists were reacting to such a sight from the front, then again…I could actually hear them.

It’s an alien invasion!

Quick, grab my camera.

I told you that place was haunted.

The comments and perceived notions went on and on and passed through my head like cars passing by. I closed my eyes for a second to center myself again as I stood in a quaint corner of the man made garden, nursing my first flute of Moet. I studied each guest as they walked in, checking their eyes and reading their minds while they passed through a lavish archway decorated with rich ivy vines, calla lilies, white roses and white lights.

I had viewed the guest list almost twenty-four hours ago for the mid-summer gala and it was a who’s who of politicians, musicians, actors, scholars, leaders and of course the President of the United States and his lovely family. I was hired because of my skills by one of the President’s right hands; he was told that I was the best of the best at what I did and he was right. My job was serious but sacred too.

Guests ushered in by the dozens, dressed like Academy Award nominees; men in tailored suits with clean haircuts and close shaves. The women were dressed in jewel toned dresses, peplum accents and revealing necklines adorned with sparkling diamonds and matching earrings. This was not your average black-tie event, this was a major affair. As I watched more couples arrive, I was thankful that I let my best friend, Sarina dress me.

“You cannot go to this party dressed like a secret service agent. For God sakes, the President is going to be there.” She warned me two weeks ago while we were out shopping for my dress.

“I am a secret service agent.” I pointed out.

“Not exactly.”

“Yes….exactly.” I said. Sarina rolled her eyes as she thumbed through a rack of dresses.  Thanks to my best friend, I appeared to blend in with the crowds; dressed in a black strapless number with a sweetheart neckline and jeweled detail under the bust line itself. The floor length dress was sexy enough without bringing attention to me and professional enough for the other agents to recognize me as more than just a woman. I had my hair pulled up in a delicate French twist with thick tendrils cascading down the front and I kept my jewelry basic with the diamond tennis bracelet that was my grandmother’s and a cocktail ring that matched the jeweled detail of the dress. I rounded out the look with black peep toe Louis Louboutins, sheer pantyhose and my Kel-Tec P32 handgun.

I never left home without “Monty.”

The party was about to begin; I downed my glass of Moet, discarded it to the passing waiter and retrieved another one. “Must be nice, not to have a liquor limit.” A familiar voice said. I turned and smiled at the appearance of  Eddy Moss. Eddy stood about six foot five and even with my heels on, I still had to shift my head to meet his eyes. He was handsome man in his late thirties with thick, wavy black hair that received a streak of silver. His face was square with a chiseled jaw line and high cheekbones. Eddy worked his way up from a policeman to a detective to a supernatural vice who headed the Washington D.C. unit.

Eddy was dressed in a crisp, black suit with faint, silver pin stripes; the white dress shirt was pressed firm against his bulging chest and showcased a silver tie. His black wing top shoes gleamed under the garden lights and I noticed he too was packing light with a slim holster carrying his favorite firearm. He grabbed a glass from another passing waiter, took a sip and looked at me.

“Trying to take the edge off.”  I replied. He nodded as he took another draw from the tall glass.

“I have to admit that you clean up nice.” His dark chocolate eyes scanned my frame from head to toe and back; I could only imagine what he was thinking but his nature prevented me from digging that deep.

“Thank you. As do you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in anything besides jeans and leather jacket.” He chuckled at my response. “Are you spying on me?”

“Spying on you? Why would I need to do that?” The smile that grazed his thin lips reached his eyes. I tilted my head and waited for his response. “I just wanted to make sure that you were okay. This is your first detail.”

“Presidential detail. My first Presidential detail.” I corrected, “And I’m not scared.”

“Maybe you’re not.” Eddy said before he finished his champagne. “But I am here to make sure that you’re safe.”  I raised an eyebrow. Eddy looked from the left then the right, grabbed my arm and pulled me off to a darken corner.

“I received word earlier today that Lox has escaped.” If my blood could have run any colder, it would have froze. I stared at Eddy, unable to bring together the words to describe what my mind was thinking.

I wish werewolves could read minds.

“Lox escaped? When?”

“I don’t know when but I was told that he cannot be located.”

“And you think that the first place he would come is to find me?”

“Of course.” Eddy said. “You’re twins. He’s synced to you and you’re synced to him.”

“So you want me to help you find him?” Eddy nodded. I exhaled hard as I glanced at him. “I should have known.” I knocked back the last of my champagne and fought the urge to kick Eddy’s ass for setting me up.

365 Blend Series: #8- Who Is Carter Tate?

Tags

365 Series, Werewolves, Writing

 

“As day ten wraps in the trial of Carter Tate, the infamous billionaire who single handedly attempted to wipe out the werewolf species by mercifully killing hundreds of them and calling it ‘hunting, the defense and prosecution teams are in a dead heat.

This is in fact is the first trial against a human and the supernatural community since the Supernatural Act of 2005 was passed. What’s now known as the SupAct was put in place in 2005 which mandated that all supernatural beings be protected with rights and privileges just like humans. It was dubbed the Supernatural Civil Rights Act and like the Civil Rights Act, it too received a mixture of praise and resentment.

For over the last five decades, Tate has traveled the world, hunting and brutally killing werewolves. His collections of their furs, heads and preserved bodies have been features in both Time and Life magazines. When asked why he does such a thing, Tate has responded by saying ‘It needs to be done.’

It has been in the last six years now when Carter Tate’s hobby turned both brutal and illegal. With the SupAct passed, supernatural species have also been protected from brutal hate crimes and automatically entitled to a trial following such arraignments. Tate’s first victim since the SupAct passed was Julian Tomlin, a single father born into the supernatural world, unaware of his own abilities as a child but as he got older, discovered them and embraced them. Tomlin worked for Tate as an assistant but once he outed himself to his family, friends and co-worker, many believe that this was when Tate’s fire ignited.

Julian Tomlin’s body along with his two children were discovered on Valentine’s Day with their heart removed from their bloodless bodies. From there, Carter Tate continued on with his ‘hunting’. Many say that he was lashing out at the fact that his daughter, Gailene Tate had been bitten by a werewolf when she was just a child and immediately spent her life in solitude that fueled his desires to wipe out the werewolves but no one can be too sure of that.

‘They’re savage animals. Beasts of the night and lap dogs of Satan. All of them will die…all of them will pay…’”