This is an excerpt from Chapter Eight, the point in the story that actually starts to get good.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Peering through the sparsely needled branches of a pine tree by the road, Donovan’s eyes locked on the girl who emerged from the last blue-roofed condo on Ponderosa Way. She had her auburn hair pulled back tonight, away from her face so it wouldn’t bother her when she ran, and by it he could see the crease in her brow that suggested her frustration. Nothing unnatural there. This one was often frustrated.
He adjusted his position as she moved, careful to keep close to her and yet far enough away that his presence wouldn’t be discerned. It was easier than it used to be, given the girl’s refusal to engage in the sort of behavior she used to anymore. Convenient, truly, that her father had died. Kyla James was always such a headache for him before that.
Donovan grinned to himself at the memory. Such a shame, he thought as he watched her now. All those logs careening out of control, with no one there to stop them from crushing dear Daddy into the ground. It may as well have been a steamroller, but then that wouldn’t have looked much like an accident.
And he needed it to look like an accident.
Watching Kyla run up the road with her long, evenly-paced strides, Donovan thought how much easier it would be if he’d been able to take care of her that way. Not nearly as fun as watching the agony it caused her, but if he’d been able to kill her back then, he wouldn’t be here now watching her like this, trying to figure out how she ever found Nathaniel Blake.
Still, Donovan couldn’t have killed her then and he knew it. She was too protected…just like the boy. It was that sickening joy Kyla used to have that made her all but untouchable to him, guarding what she possessed so he couldn’t get to it. It had almost driven him mad.
But that was the brilliant thing about humans: Steal their joy and you had an open target to their heart. Take the shot and you’d strike them down. And when they were left there writhing in their own blood, in the broken pieces of what they used to have and who they used to be, it was in that moment that they made the choice; either get back up or lose their soul.
Kyla didn’t get back up.
Donovan could have killed her after that if it hadn’t been for the boy; his constant covering over her, his ceaselessly warring on her behalf, sending those to keep guard over her life that so continually guarded him. Caden must have known that something wanted her, even if he didn’t know what it was. As far as Donovan knew, Caden didn’t even know of their existence…of anything of the Coven or especially the Alliance. But he did know enough about the realm of the dark to be able to tell when something was wrong.
Donovan’s inability to kill Kyla James after that was really more of an annoyance than anything since she was no longer moving in the power that threatened them. Still, it was an issue he wished could be resolved. The Howell kids were one thing, but Kyla wasn’t like them. Before she had decided to abandon all she was and run from that power, she had posed a far greater threat to the Coven’s purpose here. A greater threat even than the boy.
Fortunately, Caden Howell was gone now, and there was no other means by which Donovan suspected her capable of being re-awakened.
At least that was what he’d thought before he saw her with Nathaniel.
Glaring forward as Kyla pumped her long runner legs and charged up the hill, Donovan questioned again how she had found him. Suspicious didn’t begin to describe one like Nathaniel Blake just so happening to come into her life. It had to be more than chance. It had to be more than Eli.
In the world of the Nephilim, coincidence did not exist.
It had been over a year since Donovan had watched her like this. Kyla had grown far more beautiful since he’d seen her last summer, and her soul had grown darker as well.
Donovan quivered at the thought of her.
To have access to one like this, with such raw power and such raw beauty, he would kill for such a thing.
He would kill for far less.
Kyla may not be moving in it anymore, but that power was still there. He could feel it as he drew nearer to her. It never really left the ones who were marked by it, this power that ran deep in their blood. Some of them just chose to deny it.
Dancing at the edge of his mind, a thought came back to Donovan that had been toying with him for the past twenty-four hours, daring him to trust in a scenario he knew was too perfect to believe. But if it were true (or if it could become true) that Nathaniel would have a reason to protect this one, then Donovan could use her for more than he had realized.
That was the theory he was operating under now. He had to think positively, too, or he would have to admit he’d been placed in a position of disadvantage with the Resitore. And that was simply not acceptable.
Donovan shuddered at the thought.
He would not let Seth win this. This was his war…or at least it would be before the end. The brotherhood was not going to stop what he had worked so hard for, shed so much blood for. They were not going to stop anything because he would stop them first. And he would do it by turning their own against them, the strongest among them to the dark they so avidly resisted.
He would do it by turning Nathaniel Blake, whom he could feel here even now, watching the girl.
A grin spread slowly across Donovan’s face at his discernment of Nathaniel’s presence. It seemed fortune, after all, had found him again. And he knew exactly what he was going to do with it.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Peering through the sparsely needled branches of a pine tree by the road, Donovan’s eyes locked on the girl who emerged from the last blue-roofed condo on Ponderosa Way. She had her auburn hair pulled back tonight, away from her face so it wouldn’t bother her when she ran, and by it he could see the crease in her brow that suggested her frustration. Nothing unnatural there. This one was often frustrated.
He adjusted his position as she moved, careful to keep close to her and yet far enough away that his presence wouldn’t be discerned. It was easier than it used to be, given the girl’s refusal to engage in the sort of behavior she used to anymore. Convenient, truly, that her father had died. Kyla James was always such a headache for him before that.
Donovan grinned to himself at the memory. Such a shame, he thought as he watched her now. All those logs careening out of control, with no one there to stop them from crushing dear Daddy into the ground. It may as well have been a steamroller, but then that wouldn’t have looked much like an accident.
And he needed it to look like an accident.
Watching Kyla run up the road with her long, evenly-paced strides, Donovan thought how much easier it would be if he’d been able to take care of her that way. Not nearly as fun as watching the agony it caused her, but if he’d been able to kill her back then, he wouldn’t be here now watching her like this, trying to figure out how she ever found Nathaniel Blake.
Still, Donovan couldn’t have killed her then and he knew it. She was too protected…just like the boy. It was that sickening joy Kyla used to have that made her all but untouchable to him, guarding what she possessed so he couldn’t get to it. It had almost driven him mad.
But that was the brilliant thing about humans: Steal their joy and you had an open target to their heart. Take the shot and you’d strike them down. And when they were left there writhing in their own blood, in the broken pieces of what they used to have and who they used to be, it was in that moment that they made the choice; either get back up or lose their soul.
Kyla didn’t get back up.
Donovan could have killed her after that if it hadn’t been for the boy; his constant covering over her, his ceaselessly warring on her behalf, sending those to keep guard over her life that so continually guarded him. Caden must have known that something wanted her, even if he didn’t know what it was. As far as Donovan knew, Caden didn’t even know of their existence…of anything of the Coven or especially the Alliance. But he did know enough about the realm of the dark to be able to tell when something was wrong.
Donovan’s inability to kill Kyla James after that was really more of an annoyance than anything since she was no longer moving in the power that threatened them. Still, it was an issue he wished could be resolved. The Howell kids were one thing, but Kyla wasn’t like them. Before she had decided to abandon all she was and run from that power, she had posed a far greater threat to the Coven’s purpose here. A greater threat even than the boy.
Fortunately, Caden Howell was gone now, and there was no other means by which Donovan suspected her capable of being re-awakened.
At least that was what he’d thought before he saw her with Nathaniel.
Glaring forward as Kyla pumped her long runner legs and charged up the hill, Donovan questioned again how she had found him. Suspicious didn’t begin to describe one like Nathaniel Blake just so happening to come into her life. It had to be more than chance. It had to be more than Eli.
In the world of the Nephilim, coincidence did not exist.
It had been over a year since Donovan had watched her like this. Kyla had grown far more beautiful since he’d seen her last summer, and her soul had grown darker as well.
Donovan quivered at the thought of her.
To have access to one like this, with such raw power and such raw beauty, he would kill for such a thing.
He would kill for far less.
Kyla may not be moving in it anymore, but that power was still there. He could feel it as he drew nearer to her. It never really left the ones who were marked by it, this power that ran deep in their blood. Some of them just chose to deny it.
Dancing at the edge of his mind, a thought came back to Donovan that had been toying with him for the past twenty-four hours, daring him to trust in a scenario he knew was too perfect to believe. But if it were true (or if it could become true) that Nathaniel would have a reason to protect this one, then Donovan could use her for more than he had realized.
That was the theory he was operating under now. He had to think positively, too, or he would have to admit he’d been placed in a position of disadvantage with the Resitore. And that was simply not acceptable.
Donovan shuddered at the thought.
He would not let Seth win this. This was his war…or at least it would be before the end. The brotherhood was not going to stop what he had worked so hard for, shed so much blood for. They were not going to stop anything because he would stop them first. And he would do it by turning their own against them, the strongest among them to the dark they so avidly resisted.
He would do it by turning Nathaniel Blake, whom he could feel here even now, watching the girl.
A grin spread slowly across Donovan’s face at his discernment of Nathaniel’s presence. It seemed fortune, after all, had found him again. And he knew exactly what he was going to do with it.
No comments:
Post a Comment