When Fate Aligns: Book One of The Mortals and Mystics Series Read online

  When Fate Aligns

  A.K. Koonce

  When Fate Aligns

  Copyright 2017 A.K. Koonce

  All Rights Reserved

  First Kindle Edition: 2017

  Cover design by Desiree Deorto Designs

  Editing by Red Ribbon Editing Services

  The content of this book is protected under Federal Copyright Laws. Any unauthorized use of this material is prohibited. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without express written permission from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales are entirely coincidental.

  Dedicated to my parents for encouraging me to read at a young age and for always reminding me that I can do anything I want to do in life, like bring all the bizarre things in my mind into existence.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One – A Monster Among Many

  Chapter Two – An Offering

  Chapter Three – Safe Haven

  Chapter Four – Where Our Journey Ends

  Chapter Five – Asher Xavier

  Chapter Six – The Veil

  Chapter Seven – Creation

  Chapter Eight – The Stranger

  Chapter Nine – Ditch The Pack

  Chapter Ten – An Explanation

  Chapter Eleven – Hope

  Chapter Twelve – Coming Home

  Chapter Thirteen – The Burrow

  Chapter Fourteen – Where Fate Led

  Chapter Fifteen – Wanderers Welcome

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  A Monster Among Many

  A nervousness thrums through my body under the scrutiny of his mystical silver eyes as my fingers relentlessly twist a lock of my long brown hair. I try to keep a look of contentment in place, despite my racing heart that he can most likely hear thrashing in my chest. My leg bounces beneath our table, and I can’t focus on anything but him.

  I sit next to my mother and watch her communicate through sign language with the hybrid-vampire who doesn’t seem to want to be here any more than I do.

  The angles of his strong jaw draw my attention, seemingly sharp edges beneath smooth perfect skin. His hair is grown out and threatens to brush against long, dark lashes. Almost appearing more man than monster… Almost.

  They’re different up close. Their bodies portray something beautifully human, while their feral instincts are anything but. They’re the direct result of the creatures of the night breeding with our own, the end product being a bizarre mixture of perfection and alluring destruction. I wasn’t prepared for how intrigued I’d be by them, mesmerized by their lethalness.

  The numbers etched across the back of his white t-shirt identify this pike as number forty-four. Forty-four sits with perfect posture, hands flat on the table’s smooth surface to show he is compliant. The leading doctor of the pike’s prison, Doctor Shaw, stands ominously behind my mother and myself. A dark shadow bleeds across the clean table, signaling the doctor’s presence. He’s overseeing our meeting today, his beady eyes taking in our every move, shifting and darting over each pike like an inventory is being taken.

  My mother works side by side with Shaw, and it hasn’t taken long to see he is more vile than any of the creatures locked within these walls; a monster among many. In the universe of man versus monster, he’s won, and the lines between him and the animals locked away here have become blurred.

  Usually, I watch the hybrid-vampires, the pikes, from outside their work chamber, safely separated from the sedated creatures by a reinforced glass window. I’ve always stayed on my side of the glass, waiting for my mother to complete her work with the pikes at Compound 186.

  Until today.

  My mother begged Shaw to let me attend her evaluation of Forty-four today. I have no interest in the pikes, but I didn’t tell her that. I’m used to always following her plans without question.

  Something my mother neglected to tell Shaw is I have no understanding of sign language, making this meeting pretty useless. A heavy sigh escapes my lips at the thought of sitting here in confusion while they speak in hand gestures.

  A vocal restraint rests just beneath their skin, against their jugular, to prevent them from talking to one another, as well as the staff. Their days are silent; they only speak when spoken to in fast and swift hand movements. Many of them don’t respond at all, replying with a simple jutting bob of their heads, primitive-like.

  My mother makes a few gestures to Forty-four, but he does not engage, choosing instead to stare into my pale green eyes. I shift in my seat under his gaze. It’s the closest I’ve ever been to a pike before. I think they’re used to people being afraid of them, but I am so captivated I can’t find the will to look away from the monster.

  With a tense smile my mother introduces me to the numbered creature. “Forty-Four, I’d like you to meet, Fallon Fiercely.”

  I don’t dare extend my hand to him, and he doesn’t expect me to. Neither of us moves an inch.

  From across the table, he assesses me, and I give a polite but awkward smile, making him smile at my discomfort. Almost a sneer really. Does he hate humans as they do him? Surely he must. He’s been a caged animal for the entirety of his existence. Caged because of us, because of Shaw and Shaw’s predecessors, because of fear. Fear of those who are different and dangerous. Fear of the vampires that once ruled the world so many decades ago.

  Their offspring remain even after the extinction of the once powerful race of vampires. A reminder of what the mortals suffered. Humans are vengeful beings, lashing out at those who have harmed us as well as those who once helped us …

  He’s smirking, revealing a beautiful but haunting white smile. His dark chocolate hair is messy and laying haphazardly in different directions. Like his sleep comes restlessly to him. An eternal look of bedhead graces his appearance. His white shirt is tight around his arms and torso, emphasizing his broad chest. Lines of hard muscle crease his shirt.

  He looks human but unhuman all at once. The muscle is too defined, his teeth too perfect, his movements too fluid. And, of course, his gray-silver eyes are the most beautiful, unhuman characteristic of all.

  I try to remember how much I should hate him, but sitting across from him, it’s all I can do to catch my breath and stop my heart from beating though its cage in my chest. With an unsteady breath I look away to see the inside of the chamber in an attempt to focus on anything but him.

  The air is diluted in here with a horrible thickness that fills my senses and leaves me craving clean oxygen. The surrounding walls are tall and made of cinder blocks encased by thick titanium bars, with a half-a-foot gap along the top before being enclosed again at the ceiling.

  I suppose the gap is to give the pikes a little fresh air, which they desperately need. A beautiful blue bird flutters its wings delicately to land on the gapped stone edge of the fencing. The bird panics, releasing a high-pitched squawk for a mere moment before a red light flickers with an alarming zap, and the bird falls lifelessly to the ground.

  A gasp is torn from my lips at the sight of the lifeless bird. Smoke trails up from its little body lying along the concrete wall. Forty-four glances back at the tiny dead animal, and his hand twitches like he’s fighting to move before slowly touching his fingers to the back of my hand. My breath falters from his feather light touch. His hand rests over mine, barely touching my skin. I can feel his e
yes on me, almost testing me to respond to his boldness.

  The guard in the tower leisurely walks the long stairway to the ground. I notice, attached to his thick black belt, there are no weapons normally seen on officials in our camp. How much sedation are these pikes under to create that kind of safety for their staff?

  The guard is chubby, a trait I’m unaccustomed to in our community since food is directly supplied and rationed by the government. He reaches his fat, little gloved hand down and grabs the bird, heaving in a breath when he stands, as if the tiny creature is weighing him down. He waddles to a dark corner of the room and tosses the little bird aside. The bird lands without a sound onto the pile of other animal corpses.

  The smell in the air is now apparent to me. The little mound of hawks, squirrels, and even a cat produces a stench that makes my stomach turn. I can only hope that pile isn’t the pike’s dinner.

  Forty-four’s hand is still on mine, and I pull it slowly away without looking at him. Perhaps I passed his little test.

  My mother leans into me, her warm vanilla scent filling my lungs and calming me with the simple familiar smell. “I wish you would have worn a different shirt today,” she whispers, glancing at my neckline.

  There goes the familiar comfort she brings.

  Forty-four smiles into the distance, and I wonder if he heard her. I barely heard her. He looks back to me, and I think about what my mother said. I look around, and other pikes are discreetly studying me, probably because I’m on the wrong side of the glass window, but I have yet to see Forty-four look at my neck or the pulsing vein there. In fact, all he has done is stare into my eyes. He hasn’t made me feel like he wants to drain the life from my throat. Not yet anyway …

  Sitting so close to him I can see the device in his neck. There’s no scar, but I can see the outline of the vocal restraint under his skin. A perfect square outlined against his jugular.

  Shaw steps closer at the sight of me removing my hand from Forty-four’s. He stands between my mother and I and places a palm on my mother’s shoulder and then my own. I flinch at his contact, and when I look up I can see Forty-four’s jaw tick as he removes his hands from the table and looks away from the doctor, choosing to stare blankly at the wall behind us.

  “Char, I think this is enough for today. Forty-four doesn’t seem to be in the mood for communicating. We may have to dispose of this one after all.” I can hear the amusement in his repugnant voice. “Fallon, why don’t you wait for your mother inside? Charlotte, tomorrow afternoon we will have to make a final decision on case number forty-four. After all, we can’t keep all our darling little projects.”

  Doctor Shaw steeples his long thin fingers, his eyes shining as he appraises my mother from head to toe like she’s one of his many possessions within the compound.

  My mother nods in agreement with the doctor’s words and stands from the table to speak with Shaw just behind me. I’ve only been seated for a few minutes, and, surprisingly, I’m not ready to leave yet, especially after the doctor’s subtle threat.

  Reluctant to end my meeting with the monster across from me, I linger just a little longer. I’m left to sit awkwardly with this pike who can’t speak.

  It’s odd to be seated so close to them now when I’m used to seeing them from a distance, safely behind the lobby viewing window. At the thought of the window, I can’t help but remember how Forty-four reacted last week when Dr. Shaw showed his true disgusting colors that lie just under his meticulously suited surface.

  Last week Shaw spoke softly in my mother’s ear near the viewing window within the lobby. He stood close, too close, too encompassing. Her head tilted slightly away from him, her shoulders bowed uncomfortably backward if only an inch. I shifted my weight closer to them, but not enough to draw any attention to myself.

  It started so simple. With a smile, he touched her wrist and pressed nearer as he spoke low, a persistent hum of words. Closer he leaned until she attempted to push him gently away, but his tall thin stature didn’t budge. My mother was restraining herself, a source of assured confidence sheathed in a calm, sweet face because we both know our government would not relocate someone with such a poor background if anything were to happen at her job.

  The ramifications of her past always linger just over our heads. Too many mistakes result in a less than sympathetic council in our community.

  Shaw’s gruff tone grew a bit louder and more threatening. When my hurried strides finally brought me mere inches from them, one of the pike, number forty-four, slammed his fist against the double enforced glass. Directly in front of Shaw’s face.

  The vibrating window hummed through the lobby. The sound of cracking glass crunched under the fist of the pike, lines within the window splintering out before our eyes.

  Sedated. The word echoed around my mind. The reinforced glass cracked under the weight of sedated strength.

  A twisting hairline crack in the thick glass was all that remained of the incident. I never asked my mother what the incident was really about. It’s an unspoken agreement I have with her; I don’t ask serious questions. Because deep down, I know it’s safer not knowing. I could easily guess, but as open as my mother and I are, there are things we don’t speak of: the creepy Mr. Shaw, why our government wastes her medical degree at the compound rather than the clinic down the street, my nearing unity date, my father …

  The memory of Forty-four standing up for my mother warms me.

  “Thank you.” My voice almost strains. The gratitude toward a lowly pike feels unnatural in my mouth. A look of surprise and confusion crosses his face. I suddenly wonder if he speaks English at all. “For the other day,” I add, nodding to my mother.

  Feeling slightly stupid, I start to stand from the hard and uncomfortable chair, but he mouths something to me and it catches me off guard. I slowly sit back down as I glance at my mother and Shaw just a few feet behind me. They have turned away from us, talking about the progress she’s made with this one.

  After I’m sure they’re not paying us any attention, I look back at Forty-four, and mouth back to him. What?

  He smiles at me, happy with our little game, and I’m immensely relieved he does speak English. He watches my mouth a few seconds longer before silently replying.

  His mouth moves, and I focus all my attention on trying to communicate with him, but I still don’t catch what he’s saying. He stares in frustration at me for a long moment, and I shake my head slowly. Gently, he closes his eyes like my inability to read lips is painful for him.

  “What?” I whisper harshly.

  His eyes shift quickly to Shaw again before tensing up, and he speaks so quietly I barely hear him.

  “I said,” he flinches as the chip in his throat shocks him, “be sure.” His eyes are still closed, and his whole body is on edge from the pain.

  My mouth opens slightly and unsurely. I’m surprised to hear him speak, and I can’t think of a thing to say after hearing his voice. Why would he speak when it’s clearly so excruciating? Especially when it wasn’t exactly an urgent message he needed to relay.

  Be sure.

  What does that mean? Confusing, but unurgent. His voice was like thick warm gravel. I feel bad for him. The other pike have stopped working, and are now blatantly watching us. Near our table, a pike with short red hair takes a few steps toward us, watching Forty-four with intensity.

  He’s drawn attention to us.

  A guard from across the chamber demands the pikes to continue working, and to my relief they do. The redheaded pike gives Forty-four one last chastising look before turning back to his task.

  My heart hammers in my chest again. I don’t know what the guards would do to a pike for speaking, but I’m worried about how much attention he just drew to us. I do the only thing I can think of; I stand to leave.

  As I walk by, Forty-four touches my arm lightly, his hand snaking out so fast I barely see the movement. It sends a strange warm feeling straight through my heart and fluttering into my
stomach. I take careful breaths as I stare down at him, studying in his chiseled features. My skin tingles from his touch, a shiver slipping down my spine. His beautiful eyes search my face, and I have the most uncanny urge to crawl into his lap, to meld into him like a shielding layer of protection and become a permanent part of his terrible life here.

  I shake my head and look away, wondering if he captivated me. Quickly I pull my arm from him and try my best to casually walk to the exit. Stiff legs manage to carry me away from him, away from here. I bump shoulders with the tall redheaded pike on my way out and force myself to keep my attention on the ground even as I feel his silver eyes on my back like a target.

  I leave the building as fast as my feet will take me and head home without my mother. I need to put as much space between me and that pike as possible.

  Because the urge to release him—to save him—is so strong I can’t breathe.

  Chapter Two

  An Offering

  Lying in my bed, I rethink the day’s events—the abnormal feeling Forty-four gave me, the nerves and excitement that still furl through my chest. It would have been a nice feeling had it been my own and not one he gave to me. He was different up close, compared to the monster I created in my head, the monster society had painted.

  My mother arrived at camp at our normal time and instead of completing her assigned chores, she walked straight to Ky’s room. I’ve been in bed for an hour, tossing and turning against the thin blankets, and I can still hear her muffled insistent voice between the thin walls that separate my room from Ky’s. The shaky, uninsulated walls create an identical and cramped living space for the hundreds of people who live in this dorm.

  Ky has always been there for my mother, for us. She once told me he was my father’s brother. That’s the most information she’s ever spoken about my father. Ky is protective of us, and he’s kind. It makes me wonder whether my father was kind and whether he looked like Ky. Ky’s hair is darker than mine, almost black. His skin is dark next to my sun kissed complexion.

 
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