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Post by ``kacie marie helms on Feb 8, 2010 23:42:51 GMT -6
Moonstruck
Prologue
The human laughed in delight as she entered her dorm room.
Sydney would be gone tonight – probably to aspend some “quality time” with her boyfriend, Mark – but that only made Jessica's day that much more enjoyable. She thought that the girl was too adventurous for her own good, and she rather preferred solitude over the company of a promiscuous bimbo like her roommate.
Jessica practically danced towards her bed, falling down upon it with an ecstatic flop. She couldn't wait to tell her grandmother about him. He was so nice, so polite...not like the other boys at Byron. He said that he didn't want to rush her into anything, and during their two months together, he had proven it.
She rose from the bed once more, glancing at the photograph of her with her grandmother back in Carolina. She had gone through so much trouble to get Jessica into the school.
She almost thought about calling her, but remembered her promise. She strode over to her closet purposefully, looking for an outfit in order to meet Benji later tonight. She hummed quietly to herself, oblivious to the lurking shadow just a few feet away from her.
A hand clamped over her mouth, and she screamed. She was pulled against someone's chest, and furniture began to fall over in her struggle to escape. Her airways were blocked; she couldn't breathe.
She thought of Benji, of her grandmother, of all those she would lose if she gave up the battle. She screamed into the large hand once more, tears streaming down her face as she realized just who would win the battle, and who would lose. “You'd better shut that pretty mouth of yours before I shut it for you,” the voice threatened.
Yet she continued to struggle for her life, her kicks and muffled screams heard by only that of her captor.
Chapter One
Creatures of the night are mysterious beings, strangers contradicting the others as surely as the sun does the moon. There has always been a fine line between light and dark, of right and wrong, and when that line is blurred, those that are struggling to remain on the right side of the line often find themselves in ruins. Though creatures of the day remain ignorant to those around them, the shadows remain the same, lurking, waiting to lure them into the darkness.
What humans seem to believe as simple knowledge of life, of logic and reason, other beings see a facade, a mask strategically placed in order to conceal what truly lives and breathes in the world around them. The other beings are correct in their beliefs.
There is a world outside of “logic and reason” where beings reside that humans have only dreamed of in novels and horror movies. Societies of beings that they are clueless to, citizens of the Hidden community that pass them every day on the streets reside throughout the entire world, even in the wild, busy city of London.
“And remember-” William said, grunting as Amy's fist connected with his jaw.
“I must not be discovered,” Amy finished, taking her boss' momentary lapse in concentration to her advantage. She continued with her assault, her fist connecting with his jaw once more in an uppercut. He stumbled backward, and she took this opportunity to lift her leg and kick with all her strength.
He was too fast for her, however. He reached out his hand and wrapped it around her approaching ankle, stopping her in her tracks. “You don't need to worry,” she said to him as he pulled her leg roughly, and, before she could fall to the ground, she spun, kicking him in the ribs with her free leg. He released her, and she fell to the ground in a heap, the force of the impact knocking the air out of her momentarily. Before he could get to her, she rose to her feet, returning to her defensive stance. “I know what I'm doing.”
William lunged, tackling Amy before she could say anything else. He now sat on her stomach, his knees digging in between the muscle of her upper arm and the bone. She winced from the sudden lick of pain as he stared down at her defeated form, his sandy brown hair damp from perspiration, hanging before his silver eyes as he spoke, his voice ragged and labored.
“I just worry about you, Amy,” he said, the rumbling bass of his voice filled with sincerity and concern. He rose to his feet, holding his hand out in order to help her up, which she took reluctantly. She couldn't help but be a bit surprised by this statement. William never let his emotions interfere with work. This was a first.
“Relax, Boss,” she sighed as she regained her balance, “It's just another assignment. I'll be back in the office-”
“This is not just 'another assignment',” William interrupted, his voice low and insistent. His bright silver eyes burned as they bored into her own. “This is your first mission in the States,” he went on, “And your target is extremely dangerous. You need a partner, Evans. Why don't you-”
“William,” she said crossly, earning confused glances from the British citizens in the self-defense training facility. She lowered her voice, not willing to allow any humans to hear her. “William,” she repeated, forcing her voice to become relatively calm and composed. “I'm not a rookie anymore; I know what I'm doing. So shut up and let me do my job.”
William's eyes narrowed into thin slits, and for a moment, Amy almost wished she had agreed to his terms. She refused to entertain the thought, however. She was not a quitter, and she most certainly was not the kind to back down. Finally, after a long, tense silence, he nodded curtly. “Okay...alright, fine. But get your research right, don't let yourself get caught, and keep in touch. I won't be left in the dark while you're off gallivanting in a danger zone.” His tone was teasing now, but she could sense the tension and authority behind it.
“Alright, Boss,” she sighed reluctantly, earning a small grin from William in return. She could hear the following footsteps as she strode out of the self-defense facility, but she forced herself to ignore the sound. The building was run by several members of Moonscape, though humans tended to train there often. There was little to no chance of exposure in a place like this, and it was very relaxing, being able to train in public without having to worry about human suspicion.
Moonscape was an organization founded by William hundreds of years ago, long before Amy had become a Wolf. It had been created as a means of law enforcement, and she had spent the better half of her immortal life as a field agent for them. It had been their duty for centuries to keep the Hidden community in check, to hunt down those who dared to risk exposure or harm to their own kind and set them straight. She was being sent on her first mission in America, and it excited her to no end. She would be able to prove herself to the others, to William himself, that she was just as strong and skilled as any other Wolf, young or old. This was her chance at succession, of being able to rise to the top of the food chain, so to speak, and prove her loyalty to her species.
“I have to go, Boss,” she said before he could get another word in, not wanting to risk being forced to listen to his attempts at convincing her to stay. She turned around and placed a light kiss on his cheek. “My job awaits.”
She left him at the entrance of the building, and strode throughout the busy city London, her boss and comrade abandoned, alone in the crowded street. She strode through the town in her black sweat suit, wearing a pair of sunglasses, as well, for concealing purposes. Should any human see her eyes – bright, frighteningly silver orbs that seemed to dazzle mortals to the point of insanity – they would risk exposure for her and her kind.
Amy approached an apartment complex, just a few streets down. When she entered the building, she felt nothing. She could not bring herself to feel nostalgic, for there were really no good memories to recall here in London. Only empty memories resided here.
She entered her apartment and sighed, unsurprised by the empty room that greeted her. She had only needed the basics, anyway, and having a fully furnished home was a waste of space and money. She had lived in a single bedroom apartment, the only furniture being a small mattress in the far bedroom, a small table in the empty living room area, a chair carelessly placed beside it. She hardly spent any time here in the past. It was only a place for her to eat, rest, and clean. Still...
She went through what she considered the necessary precautions, something she had seen most humans do when they moved on from one home to the next. She ran her hands across the granite counters, feeling the smooth texture beneath her fingers as she looked about the room, struggling to regain one decent memory of the place. She found nothing of the sort.
Anxious to escape this monotonous place, Amy picked up the plane ticket on the counter, her single suitcase of clothes, and a briefcase which held her laptop. As she exited the building, she offered it one last look, her cold and bitter eyes shielded by her dark tinted sunglasses.
“Goodbye,” she whispered, closing the door behind her with a sense of finality.
She followed the proper procedures before boarding the plane, a tiresome endeavor in itself. She spoke politely to those that questioned her day, listened to the instructions as she took her seat by the window, catching a final glimpse of her home. Of London. She could hear the constant babble of humans along the plane, could smell the peanuts and gas exhaust in the air as the airport employees prepared for takeoff.
She did all of the things that any other human female her physical age would do. She studied those around her, smiled politely at passing humans, claimed the window seat as soon as she found it available, everything. But as she took her seat, she made sure to look around herself, making sure that no one was watching. Sighing, she lifted the briefcase holding her laptop from the floor, and opened it, making sure that no one within a five-foot radius would catch a glimpse of what was hidden on its screen.
She typed away quickly, not stopping until a familiar case of saved files appeared before her. She looked over the mission once more, making sure that all of the information she held was correct.
Her target's name was Christopher Stone, a Most Wanted criminal in Moonscape's eyes and a merciless Wolf. While rumored to be a member of the Knights of Day, an organization hell-bent on destroying the lives of the Hidden community and constantly risking exposure for their kind, he had also been on the aforementioned list for over a century, and they had lost track of him for a time, up until last August, just over a year ago. He was around three hundred years old, turned around in the 1690s, if their estimations were correct. Moonscape didn't know his exact age.
Amy frowned as she stared at the screen in front of her, a feeling of unease overwhelming her senses. Stone had a century and a half on her, at least, if not more. If it ever got to the point where she needed to defend herself, she was in trouble. Skill and strategy were not nearly enough against an older Wolf. Age meant power to – what the humans so eloquently called them – werewolves.
Now, their term was only partially correct. Yes, they turned into wolves, large, monstrous creatures, controlled mostly by their instincts and occasional bloodlust, but they could also change at any given time that they chose, like any other Shifter, with the exception of the Full Moon. That one, terrible evening, they could not control it. The biggest flaw in this – at least, as far as she'd known – was that no matter how hard one tried, there was no chance of remembering what they'd done, or who they had done it to. Silver and crosses did nothing to repel them. Ironically enough, they had silver eyes. Every single one of them. It marked them for what they were.
Moonscape had now assigned Amy to Byron Academy, a boarding school just on the outskirts of the small Texas town itself. It was known as one of the most accomplished schools in the Western Hemisphere, and recently, the most dangerous.
Three students had disappeared in the course of seven months since Stone “transferred” to Byron. Jessica Stephens, Matt Davies, and Jefferson Newman. Every file indicated that there had been a struggle, some blood, but no clues, no evidence as to whether the victim survived or not, nor where a body could be found if they didn't. Other than the scene of the crime, they were simply gone, missing. Lost without a trace.
This was the part of the investigation that always left Amy confused. How had he been able to do it? Stone couldn't possibly have taken these children without outside help, without leaving some sort of evidence that they could use against him.
Amy pondered these thoughts as the attendant gave the passengers instructions for their safety, keeping her mind busy enough to forget that she would be flying in a matter of moments. It was truly a terrifying thought, flying. In her own, personal opinion, Amy preferred seasickness. If she had been meant to fly, she would have been born a Shifter, not a cursed dog with pale skin and a scar on her abdomen.
The flight to Houston was supposed to last ten hours. A long, exhausting amount of time for anyone to endure, but endure she would force herself to do. It was her job to be patient, to wait. After another five minutes, rather than ponder how one could possibly die of boredom, she decided that sleeping would be the best way to make the trip go by faster. She logged off of the laptop, put it away in her trusty bag, and relaxed in the seat. It took at least twenty more minutes, but eventually, her eyes cosed, and the safety net of sweet dreams began to break....
She dreamed of Somerset, of her human life and all that she wished she would have done. She dreamed of her mother, of Henry. She could see her mother's face, both that of her on her best of days, and those of her worst. She could remember the look of terror on her face that night of the Full Moon, when the light had forever been stolen from her eyes. She dreamed of her first change, and wished that she could remember the horrors that had occurred that horrid evening. She longed to know what became of Henry, as well as her brothers and her father. She wished that-
“Excuse me? Miss?”
Amy jumped, her eyes opening wide as the stewardess shook her awake. Her heart raced, her breathing returning to her in inaudible, faint gasps. When she saw the woman's expression, she had seemed startled, but then she relaxed, violet eyes shining down on her with a hidden knowledge no human should possess. A Seer, most likely. “Bad dream?” She asked, smiling warmly.
Amy glanced around herself quickly, relieved to see that most of the passengers were out of earshot, exiting the plane. “No,” she shook her head, “Just a bit jumpy, is all.”
The stewardess – Crystal, her name tag read – nodded, turning to leave Amy to her thoughts. But as she began to follow the exiting passengers, she heard a low, ominous voice recite:
“Two hearts thrust together unwillingly,
Shall bring the end to Stone.
With clues of beauty, you shall defeat,
The one that seeks the throne.
One of ebony and false forest eyes,
Another of night and silver stars,
Hold the key to peace.
Let love conquer the Dark One,
And the Hidden will remain at peace.”
Amy froze. As soon as her mind regained it's thought process, she turned to demand what the stewardess had meant by her prophecy, but the woman was nowhere to be seen. Amy sighed in exasperation, shaking her head as she began her regular routine before leaving the airport. Seers, she rolled her eyes at the thought, they say the most mysterious things.
It took awhile, but when she was finally through retrieving her things and such, she was able to exit the airport. She made sure that her contacts were in during her short stay in the bathroom. Her skin was pale, like alabaster, her hair flowing past her shoulders in long ebony tresses. Her eyes, now a pale shade of jade, sparkled in the faint glow of the florescent lights, a side effect to the silver that glowed beneath the contacts. She was positive that she looked thoroughly human as she exited the building. She would pass for it, even around those of her own kind, if she was careful enough.
She searched the crowd hungrily, searching for the man she had been informed would drive her to the school. After a moment, she found him, and was struggling to suppress a smile while she walked over to the man that held her sign. Decorated in red and gold glitter, it read:
Welcome
Amy Bishop!
Amy smiled, waving at the old man as she dragged her luggage towards him. He was small, and looked very fragile, even for what she suspected his age to be. His hair was more white than gray, the final few strands of gray and black beginning to fade away. Wrinkles were edged deeply into his face, his hands looking as rough as sandpaper as he offered to take her bags. He had introduced himself as Eustace, and he insisted that it wasn't right to make a lady carry her own bags. Though she was shocked by his courtesy – a man that was as civilized as a nineteenth century Englishman was hard to find these days – she only allowed him to take was her suitcase. In her eyes, she could handle having her clothes mistreated, as they were meaningless. She could live without clothes, but she couldn't live without her laptop. It was her job; it was her life.
Not that she had much of a life, anyway.
Amy climbed into the backseat of the car, staring out the window as Eustace began to drive, remembering who she was, who she had once been, and who she wished she could be.
Clay sighed as he stared up at the sky, a large, exasperated huff of air escaping him. There were hardly any clouds in the sky, and the few that he saw seemed to be laughing at him, gloating with satisfaction that they were able to float away, without a care in the world, while he remained stuck on this worthless pile of dirt, unable to run away from his troubles. Or his duties.
He was pondering what had occurred earlier that day, and why he was unable to shake away the thoughts that followed it...
“Christopher, if we're ever-” Derek began, brushing his dark brown hair out of his silver eyes with a large hand.
“Christopher's dead,” Clay growled angrily, his voice colder than ice, “I thought we already established this, Froy,” he hissed his friend's former name, low enough to where any passersby would have no hope of hearing. Today was not one of his good days. He had already been irritated to his limit earlier that day, and having his friend call him by a name he had renounced long ago did not help matters.
Derek sighed, “You can't hide who you are forever, Clay. One of these days it'll catch up to you.”
Clay shook his head in response, relieved when Derek became silent once more. He wasn't one to talk much, and that, he appreciated. It was on the rare occasions that he did talk that he wished the boy was mute. Whenever he did speak, he had something to say.
Shortly after Clay's small outburst, he noticed two girls striding their way. One was tall, thin, with long, platinum blond hair and bright, ecstatic violet eyes. The girl beside her, however, seemed to be the exact opposite. The other was short, with cropped black hair that gave her the appearance of a pixie and skin as dark as the night sky.
“Gabby says a new girl's coming today,” the blond Witch smiled, seating herself across from the boys. The Seer followed her example, grimacing as Belinda called her by her unwanted pet name.
Clay shrugged, “And this is news because...” He pretended to be interested as Derek drank some of his soda.
Gabrielle frowned, her violet eyes dull and uninterested as they came to rest on Clay's profile. “Just saw her, is all,” she muttered, shrugging as she dug into her lunch. Clay frowned. Gabrielle and Belinda wouldn't have mentioned it if it wasn't important. They were hiding something.
“Alright, spill,” he ordered, staring at the two girls in a scrutinizing way. Gabrielle merely shrugged once more as Belinda fidgeted, clearly wanting to tell them.
Instead, she replied, “I just have a feeling about her.”
At this, Tanner decided to make his grand entrance. “Who's got a feeling about who?” He asked casually as he took his seat, resting his feet casually on top of the table as he stared at another table, a rather attractive girl walking by. He whistled, “What a fine piece-” Belinda gave him a look. He coughed, “I mean, what kind of a wonderful, sweet girl would stoop so low to get a man's attention?” He shook his head, feigning shock and disappointment, while Derek and Clay tried to hide their smiles as they watched their companion suffer. Belinda was in one of her “Oscar” moods, as they liked to call it. The mood that said I-hate-everything-and-everyone-had-better-agree-with-me.
When Tanner was smart enough to shut up for the time being, Belinda replied, “We're getting a new student.”
Tanner grinned, turning to ask Gabrielle, “Is she hot?” when Belinda punched him in the shoulder. Clay and Derek snorted into their drinks, about to give the duo their two cents, when they heard something that made everyone at the table freeze. Gabrielle stared at Clay, her violet eyes now a dark purple, almost black, speaking in a voice that sounded nothing like hers. Low, even, and more ominous than one could ever imagine:
“Two hearts thrust together unwillingly,
Shall bring the end to Stone.
With clues of beauty, you shall defeat,
The one that seeks the throne.
One of ebony and false forest eyes,
Another of night and silver stars,
Hold the key to peace.
Let love conquer the Dark One,
And the Hidden will remain at peace.”
No one at the table had been able to speak after that, let alone eat. They were too busy trying to decipher what Gabrielle had meant by her prophecy, Clay writing it down in a nearby notebook for future reference. A Seer was a complicated being, one that dealt with many things because of their gift, forced to follow the laws, and not to interfere when necessary.
The only part of the prophecy that made less sense than the rest of it was the part that spoke of conquering “Stone”. What had that meant? Clay was no longer a Stone, by his own definition, and his only living relative had died long ago. What had been the meaning of that phrase? And the unwilling hearts, the clues of beauty...
Clay shook his head, struggling to clear his thoughts once more. He would not let this bother him.
As Clay began to sit up, brushing off the loose bits of grass that stuck to his shirt, he heard the sound of gravel crunching under a heavy weight in the distance. A car was approaching.
He suppressed a sigh, realizing that this had to have been the new girl that Belinda hadn't been able to shut up about all day. By now, the entire school knew about her arrival. Her name was Amy Bishop, a foreign student from Great Britain. She was the top of her class and sure to be a natural charmer. Sighing, he made his way to the entrance of the school in an attempt to avoid her presence and any embarrassment on her part. He didn't want to make her anymore uncomfortable than she already was. If anything, he'd probably introduce himself kindly, and then walk off, leaving her to her bookworm friends and dreams of becoming a brain surgeon.
He saw Eustace, a man he had seen working around the school since his arrival and self-proclaimed personal confessional, exit the car. The frail old man walked around to the back to open the door for the girl.
Whoever she was, she was clearly was not the typical Byron student. She hadn't even allowed the man enough time to reach for the handle. The door swung open, revealing a sight as beautiful as a sunset at sea. She was tall, with pale, alabaster skin, and a physique that would make a swim wear model jealous. Her hair was long and dark, just begging to be touched. She looked as fragile as a porcelain doll, as precious as a priceless gem. Pale, vivacious forest green eyes gazed back at him as he stared, the child that just discovered it was Christmas morning.
“One of ebony and false forest eyes...”
Oh, boy. Clay was in for trouble this year. He just knew it.
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