War of the Shadows...Chapters One and Two

A race of immortals living among humans, goes unnoticed and unseen, shadowed by their magic. Until one night when a Shadow saves a human from death, and she wakes with all her memories.

       Encounter

The promise of daylight peeked over the city with just enough light to add some color to an overcast sky.         Lena stepped into the morning air, pulling the door closed behind her. Shutting off the sweet scent of fresh bread and cinnamon to the slapping crisp scent of wet pavement. There was a click as her boss engaged the lock and Lena turned to see Simone wave goodbye with one hand, while gracefully hiding a wide yawn behind the other. The day was just beginning for most people, while Lena's day was nearly over. She had grown used to the early hours of a pastry chef years before her job at the bakery. It was the only time her parents weren't fighting or throwing beer cans at each other. Not because Jack and Holly were sleeping like most normal families, but because her dad had been moved to the graveyard shift at the lumber mill, so he wasn't home. Lena loved the silence and solitude of the early morning, just before the sun crested the horizon, when the air was still crisp and fresh. It was when Lena felt the most motivated to draw or write. Like the new day brought with it fresh ideas and inspiration. It was Lena's love for writing that brought her to the big city of Portland, where she thought her creative mind would be appreciated by the local artists and cultivated into something that could pay the rent. But those were the dreams of a child. When wishing on a star filled you with hope, and the lies of fairy tales still seemed possible.

       Lena crossed the glossy pavement with a paper bag in one hand and her purse in the other. It had stopped raining for the moment between shifts in the clouds, but the effects from the previous storm still lingered as water spilled from the rooftops, making little splash sounds as it dripped into the puddles below.  Lena yanked the zipper up under her chin, then wrapped the strap of her purse over her head so it hung across her chest. With the bag under her arm, she could stuff her hands into the fleece lined pockets to stay warm. Lena counted each step, until coming to the curb at the end of the block. Seventy one steps, then across the street to the next curb, where she started counting over again. It was something to focus on while walking the dark and sinister streets alone. Lena usually got a ride home from a co-worker, but Rayann had called in sick. There was always a taxi, or Uber to get a ride, but this was Portland, where people walked or biked, rain or shine. The counting was a nervous habit Lena had had since she could remember. It started out she only counted the steps on stairs. Her parents house had fifteen stairs. There was five steps up to the high school principals door and the dentist office had twelve stairs. She didn't always remember the amount of steps, the numbers weren't important, it was just something she did when nervous. Like the mindless tapping of a finger or shake of a foot that one doesn't even know they are doing.

       Across the street, two people in down jackets huddled together under the red awning in front of Donny's Deli, looking cold, mildly irritated, and half asleep. Lena didn't know the employees but they recognized her as a local and gave her a morning nod when she passed by. A white van came to an abrupt halt out front and Big Don hopped out with a ring of keys in hand. The Deli logo on the side door showed a character in a chefs hat and apron, running with a cleaver in one hand and a long hoagie piled high with meats and cheeses under the other arm. Leaving a trail deli meats behind him. It was an odd logo, but that was Big Don's sense of humor. After opening the store door the employees rushed inside while their boss climbed back in the van and drove off.  

       Sixty paces and another block later, Lena crossed the empty street where the street lamp overhead was burnt out, drowning the space between the buildings into murky darkness.  She cautiously approached the dark silhouette on the ground.

     "I smelled ya coming, before I heard ya." The shadow said.

     "Good morning Pop." The man was laying on a piece of cardboard, head leaning against the concrete wall and arms wrapped across his chest for warmth.  A pinned up blue tarp was his only defense against the rain. Pop peaked up at her with a toothless grin. Lena smiled back and handed him the paper bag. "There is extra this morning, enough to share with your friends." she said.

     "I always do, girl." Pop said, then opened the bag and sniffed the contents until his eyes rolled back in ecstasy. "Mmm, but I get first pick." he pulled out a cinnamon roll covered in white icing that Lena had wrapped separately in wax paper, knowing it was Pop's favorite. The man looked down the street with sudden concern, "Where's your friend?" he asked noticing Rayann's car missing from the end of the alley.

       "She's home sick today."

       "You mustn't be out in the dark alone, it's not safe for a pretty girl like you on the streets." Pop said and started to get up.

       "I'll be fine. I'm not far from home." Lena said.

        "It isn't right, let me escort you." Pop wasn't a spring chicken anymore and his years on the streets hadn't done his body any favors.  He was slow moving from stiff joints on good day, let alone in the early cold rain.

     "Your sweet, but I'll be fine Pop. You enjoy your cinnamon roll while it's still warm. I'll hurry home, I promise." She could see Pop wanted to complain some more, but she was too quick for him. "See you later Pop." Lena called over her shoulder and took off for the lit up side of the street. The man had lived on the streets in the area for years, moving where he slept every couple days, to keep from being thrown in jail for loitering on business property. Pop seemed like a nice man and tried to make himself useful by cleaning up garbage off the sidewalks. But he was still just a stranger that Lena could name, she wasn't comfortable with him knowing where she lived.

       Heavy drops began to fall, forming little puddles between the rocks in the pavement that splashed with each step Lena counted. She was only a few blocks from home when she reached the stretch of businesses that had been closed up, leaving the buildings gutted like skeletons in a graveyard. Rumor was that the new owner was planning to tear down the structure and rebuild apartments above the stores on the bottom floor. There was some kind of squabble going on between the locals and the new owner over parking, or something of the sort, but Lena wasn't interested enough to get involved.

       Movement from the other side of the street made Lena's heart jump into her throat. She froze, looking around the cars parked along the curb, but there was nothing there. Stupid cats, she whispered to herself. Lena liked the peace the night and early morning provided, but vastly preferred it in the comfort and safety of her apartment. Up ahead, the residential block came into view, she relaxed, knowing home was close. Lena was going to make herself tea and sit down to some mind numbing drama on Netflix, until it was late enough in the morning to call her mom to wish her a happy birthday. It was a good thing that her mother was happy with a phone call and an ear to listen. She really needed to get her car running again, so she didn't have to rely on her friend.

       "Where you off to baby?" a menacing voice said from behind her. Cold adrenaline shot through her like a missile, she stopped breathing even though her heart was pounding like it wanted to punch through her chest. Lena swallowed back her fear, trying to seem casual as she hurried her pace. Show no fear, she thought, because that is what they want. She risked a look over her shoulder to see how close they were. She was a pretty good runner, made the track team in high school, and won a medal in state finals. Maybe she could make it to one of the houses and pound on the door until someone opened. The three men were only a few steps behind her, so she needed to move fast.

        "Ah, look Jake, I think she likes you." One of the men said with either a mouth full of food, or not enough teeth to pronounce his words properly. The street was still blanketed in shadows and desolate, it would be another thirty minutes before the average Joe woke for work.

       “Come on, don’t ya wanna play with us?” one of them called. Lena pulled her hands from her pockets, took a deep breath and leaned into her steps, prepared to run.

       A heavy hand slammed into the back of her head, grabbing a fist full of hair and whipping her neck back, until her legs gave out and tailbone hit the ground. Lena instinctively reached for the guys grip, twisting her body around to plant her feet, only to make his grip more firmly tangled in her hair. She could hear the strands tearing from her scalp and breaking off in multiples. There was no sense of pain yet, just her mind racing for an escape, and horrified icy fear.

       In the scramble to get up, a dark haired man with a fat lip, grabbed her feet and tucked them securely under his arms, making it impossible to kick. She squirmed and thrust around as they carried her towards the alley. She searched the back of her mind to remember what she'd learned in defense class, way back in middle school. All that came up was, 'kick him in the balls and run', but with her feet in a strong hold and her body swinging like a hammock, she couldn't do either. The only defense left, was to scream.  Lena's legs and hair were hastily let go and she hit the ground without warning. Before she could take another breath to scream again, a hard boot kicked her in the gut. All the air rushed from her lungs, leaving her limp and defenseless as she cradled her chest and gasped, desperate to breathe. Rough hands gripped her by the wrists and drug Lena into the darkest part of the alley, behind the large green garbage bins. It was thick with the smell of dead animals and human urine. Like the decaying matter in the alley was a sign of what was to come. Lena refused to go out like this, she twisted around trying to get her footing, once she faced her attacker she went for his balls, she got one good kick in when one of the other men grabbed her and violently threw her against the brick wall. White light exploded in her vision, a shock wave of pain shot down her spine, and the alley started to spin like a carnival ride. Then everything went black.

       Lena regained consciousness in a violent rush, a male body intimately pressed her to the ground, a forearm against her neck while his other hand groped under her shirt. Lena flipped into a mindless frenzy, hands lashed out, scratching and pulling at anything she could reach. She kicked and thrashed, hysterically desperate to throw him off while trying to scream for help. "Let's have some fun." he said through a sadistic grin.  His breath was horridly rancid, like stale cigarettes on a blue cheese and cheep Bourbon belch.  Her stomach rolled and contracted in warning she was going to vomit. The man pushed his arm deeper into her neck, pressing her head painfully into the pavement and causing Lena's fight to weaken miserably as she fought for air. The last thing Lena remembered before she blacked out, was the blondes rough hands digging at the fly on her pants, and the thought that this was it, she was going to die, or wake up wishing she had.

       The pressure against Lena's throat disappeared, her body instinctively sucked in the putrid alley air, not caring that she could taste it in the back of her throat. Suddenly, she was weightless, hanging in the air with legs dangling in empty space and cool air caressing her face. She pictured herself floating on a fluffy white cloud and wondered if this was what the beginning of death felt like. When the body quits working, but the brain hadn’t caught up with the plan. The floating suddenly disappeared and cool dampness slowly seeped through her jacket and the back of her jeans. Lena dared open her eyes, to see nothing but a dense gray space above her. Was she dead? Something wet dripped into her mouth, she licked her lips to find the coppery taste of blood. That's going to hurt later, when the shock wears off. Lena looked around with confusion but the movement made her brain feel like it was colliding with the inside of her skull, making her ears ring like church bells and sending her into a spin of nausea. She laid back down, a few minutes and many grateful deep breaths later, Lena was able to open her eyes again. Next to her, a shallow wall ran about forty feet in length, then turned at a sharp angle before continuing beyond a large metal box. She was on the rooftop of a building, she thought, not remembering how she'd got there. As Lena forced herself upright, stabbing stars flashed across her vision, sending bile to rush from her stomach. She leaned over just in time for her stomach contents to remove themselves with relentless spasms. The coffee and almond croissant tasted much better going down, than coming up. Lena heaved until her stomach was entirely empty of any sort of liquid, and possibly even a layer or two of stomach lining. The back of her throat burned from the stomach acid and the violent heaving caused her headache to get worse. Now her brain was sporting a heartbeat of its own and every throb threatened to start the heaving up again. Sounds of shuffling and grunts on the other side of the low wall caught her attention. Lena gently and slowly pulled herself up to look down at the alley. At the bottom of the brick wall, the blond man in the denim jacket was laying at unnatural angle, his arms spread out like his bones had turned to jelly, bent in the wrong direction and in places that didn't have joints. Lena knew he was dead. No one that looked like that could possibly still be living.  Her brain slowly slid back into space and she felt the echo of the blonde man’s hands digging at her clothes. Lena reached down to find her pants undone and hanging low on her waist. The memory jacked up her heartbeat, unfortunately it also increased the pounding in her head like it was on the countdown to detonate. Down in the alley, a man dressed in black, effortlessly swung a leg around in a high arc, catching one of her attackers in the face, hard enough his head whipped to the side and sent his body flying senselessly into the side of the building. All while the man had both hands locked on her other attackers neck. The man planted is boots shoulder width apart to brace himself, then twisted his upper body with a quick motion, taking the assailants head with him until a loud crack echoed between the buildings. Lena gasped. The mans body went limp and fell to the ground, landing flat on his stomach, while his face looked up at her with dead eyes.

       Lena jacked around in shock. The man in black leathers had come to her rescue, and single handedly killed three men. Lena knew she should be terrified, some stranger had just saved her from a terrible fate, but also ruthlessly killed three men without concern for law or fear of the law.  A man capable of such violence without conscious was not a hero, but a vigilante with a dangerous superiority complex. Which meant she was no more safe with him, than she was with the other three men. Lena hastily searched the rooftop for her purse, the strap must have been snapped off during the assault, it was not with her on the rooftop. Cell phone still in the purse.

        The sound of gravel crunching under heavy boots made Lena turn around. Her hero stood a few yards away, hands up in front of him, like he feared her. How ridiculous, she thought. The man was dressed in black leathers, sporting a simple black t-shirt under a short leather jacket with silver rivets around the collar. But there was nothing else simple about this man. He was a mountain of muscles under all that leather. Feather black hair hung straight to his shoulders, framing a rigid jaw and sterling silver eyes under untamed brows. Lena looked over the wall, then back at the man on the roof, wondering if she had blacked out again. The man’s lips pushed into a harsh line, making the rough angles of his square jaw look dangerous and sinister. Lena stepped back, wide eyed in fear, but he quickly retreated, expression softening and hands posed in a truce.

     "I wont hurt you." he assured and she strangely calmed.

        Lena refused to be one of those stupid victims in a bad novel, that believed the villains deserved the right to a fair trial. She hated it when the hot cheerleader struggled to get free from the hooded mad man, only to turn and run, leaving the mad man alive and the gun or weapon laying right next to him. No, she was confident that those three men were not going to show her any mercy. She was going to end up dead, or at the least, brutally raped and left in that alley. Lena wasn't going to lose sleep over their deaths. They got what they deserved.

       Without warning, Lena was consumed with a wave of nausea, the rooftop began to spin out from under her feet and her vision dimmed as her head listed to the side. She could feel it all happening but had not control to stop it. The hero in leather, gently scooped Lena up in his massive arms before she hit the ground. He pulled her close to his chest until her head rested against the smooth leather of his jacket. He smelled like dark spices and the lovely musk of nature. Hard muscles shifted under her without effort, like she was nothing more than a feeble child in a giant's grasp.

     “I’ve got you.” He said in a bewitching husky voice that made her feel safe despite his malicious appearance, that he was a complete stranger, and the fact that he'd just murdered three men. Lena's thoughts melted away and she willingly drank in that lovely intoxicating scent, letting it consume her until she was liquid in his arms, going paralyzed, and then the lights went out.

 Restless

Darion leaned forward on the dining room chair, elbows resting on his knees while he sharpened the edge of his blade with a rough stone. His mind focused on the human sleeping in his bed. He had considered dropping the female off at the hospital and letting her own kind care for her, that would have been the intelligent thing to do, instead he moronically risked the wrath of his brothers and possibly punishment by bringing her back to his place to look after her himself.  But that was going to be nothing compared to what was going to happen if they learned that Darion had shared his blood with the female. There were only a few Shadow laws that the Queen severely enforced, one was not to involve the humans in their war, the other, not to expose the race to the humans. Sharing his Shadow blood was a dangerous risk, he was not even entirely sure what it would do to the females body, but there were century old rumors that Shadow blood was a cure for some of the human diseases. He desperately hoped it was true.

       The female had been so damaged from the blow to her head, he feared the internal bleeding would kill her, so as he lifted her limp body out of the alley and to the safety of the rooftop, Darion pierced his lip with a canine and let a few drops of his blood run into her mouth. Then he left her on the roof, anxious to get back the the alley and take care of those three men. No female should be subjected to that kind of heinous brutality. Living through the assault was the easy part, the cuts and bruises would eventually heal over and hopefully leave no traces behind, living with the memories on the other hand,  left scars more than skin deep. Darion had only been two streets over, having a drink with a red head in her bottom floor apartment, when he heard the blood curdling screams of terror and raced to the alley between the abandoned buildings. The three savages were strung and smelled like cheep whisky, which made them easy targets as he took them by surprise. Before their feeble brains were able to sort out what was happening, death had been swiftly delivered. Darion would have liked to string out the pain a while before letting them die, but he wanted to get back to the female. Darion was mindful not to drop any blood so the human police wouldn't find evidence to begin a search. Breaking the proper bones, or enough of them, was sufficient enough to get them good and dead. Darion didn't want to leave the woman laying on the roof in the rain with a concussion, while he dealt with the bodies in the alley, so he had no choice but to call Marzden to do the clean up, which unfortunately meant explaining himself to the man when he arrived with questions.

        Darion filled a glass with cold water from the tap, then searched the back of the silverware drawer until he found a straw. The female had been out for almost an hour, he needed to keep her hydrated so she would heal. She looked so small and frail in the King sized bed, swimming under a blue down filled comforter.  Her breathing was soft and even, head tilted to the side with butterscotch hair displayed in a fan over the pillow. Her skin a silky almond, causing the freckles on her nose to stand out. There was an untamed innocent beauty to her.  Darion pulled the sitting chair next to the fireplace over to the side of the bed, dipped the straw in the water and stopped the top with a finger to create a suction, then held it to her cherry lips. When she did not stir nor attempt to swallow the water, he feared he had gravely errored in not taking her to the hospital. He set the water down and pulled the freshly sharpened knife from his pocket, using the tip, he made a harsh cut at the wrist and held it above her mouth until the drops slid between her lips. He licked the opening on his wrist closed and held his breath in wait, 'Drink, please drink.' he pleaded. Agonizing minutes ticked by without a flinch or sign that she was coming around. Just as Darion stood, ready to spring her to the hospital, she licked the crimson from her lips and swallowed the liquid. Darion quickly grabbed a tissue from the bedside table and dabbed the traces of blood away, so she wouldn't become frightened, or ask where the blood came from.

"Where am - I?" she asked with a dry cough.

"My place." Darion answered, then realized like a fool, that she wouldn't know where that was. "You are safe here." he assured. Dusty blue eyes looked up at him in search for something. Did she remember him from the rooftop? Had she seen him kill those men, it all of a sudden accord to him that she might be frightened of him.

When she didn't scream or try to flee, he asked. "Do you know your name?" He had been too concerned about her health to stay and look for a purse in the alley and there was no I.D. or cell phone in her pockets, so he had no idea of her name, where she lived or if anyone was at home waiting for her to return.  

After a moment she said, "Lena- Marshall."

       The females hands went to her throat causing her to wince and moan from the tender skin. "What happened." she asked still in the fog. Darion wasn't sure how much to tell her, the memories would come back to haunt her soon enough, he felt no hurry to bring them back early. The bruises on her neck and arms were already coming to the surface as red and purple hand prints under the skin. He genuinely wanted to make them go away.  It would not erase what happened, but who wanted to look in the mirror every morning and be reminded of the assault for weeks to come.

"You have a concussion, I brought you to my place, until your well enough to go home." Lena seemed satisfied with the answer or too exhausted to question him. "I am very tired." she said as her lids drifted low. Darion grabbed the glass of water, thankful he had grabbed a bendy straw, and held it up for her. "Here, have a drink before you go back to sleep." he encouraged.  After slowly emptying half the glass, Lena relaxed back into the pillow. "What is your name?" she asked with her eyes too heavy to lift,  face already relaxed like she was teetering on the edge of sleep. "Darion. My name is Darion." "Thank you Dari-on." she whispered, her voice barely audible as she drifted off.  He watched as her body relaxed, laying heavy against the sheets, the pillow framing her face as her breath slipped into the shallow tide of a tranquil rest. The color in her skin began to bloom as though she were too warm,  Darion reached over with concern, but her temperature felt normal to the back of his hand. Maybe his blood was helping after all, he considered. The corner of her lips lifted as if she were having a good dream, making Darion smile in return.

       "Brother." a bitter voice barked from the bedroom doorway, immediately erasing Darion's smile,. He hung his head with dread. Marzden eventually went into the living room and from the sound of his boots hitting the hardwood, the male was pacing the entire room with venom running through his veins. Darion left the glass of water on the table in case Lena woke and was thirsty. He closed the door behind him so she could sleep through what was coming.

       Darion walked over to the dining room table where he had been sharpening his blades and began cleaning up the tools and rags, ignoring Marzden as he stood next to the fireplace in the living room, silently waiting for an explanation Darion didn't want to give.

Marzden stormed up to the table and pointed towards the bedroom in an angry whisper, like he didn't want to wake the female. "Why the hell is there a female human in your bed?" the brother demanded. "What have you done Darion?"

"Those men you cleaned up, they were attacking her. I intervened." Darion said with a arctic calm. Some of the steam left Marzden's expression, he lean back on his heals shaking his head in frustration. "The blonde with the crushed bones was the instigator, wasn't he?" Marzden asked, but he already knew the answer. Darion looked back at his brother without apology. He had been particularly brutal with that one. Breaking his legs and arms before his neck so the scum would feel some pain before the gift of death.  

"And how is it that this human has ended up in your bed and not at a hospital?"  

Darion sat down feeling tired and defeated, not sure what made him act as he did. He didn't take the time to think it through at that moment, he just reacted on an instinct to protect the woman. But deep down in the crevasse of his mind, he knew the answer and so did the brother. Marzden walked up to him and placed a heavy hand on his shoulder, his voice saturated in grief. "Brother, what happened was not your fault. Saving all the women in the world will not take away what happened to Casina, nor will it bring her back."

       Dorian was intelligent enough to know the words hung true, but no amount of reasoning in his mind could make his heart grasp the concept. He was supposed to protect Casina, it was his oath, his responsibility and he had failed. He got up and started pacing the floor along the dinning room table, too much energy buzzing through his veins, like moving his body could make him outrun the past. He stopped to face his brother Warrior, "But I can make her forget." he answered, realizing this is what he knew all along.  "If she woke up in a hospital, the doctors would tell her what happened to her, even if she couldn't remember at first. The police would get involved and she would have to relive the nightmare over and over again. Here, she can heal, then I can erase her memories and replace them with something pleasant like a vacation on the beach. She never has to know what happened in that alley."  Marzden sunk into a chair across the table with a scowl between his brows. The male ran his hand over his cropped black hair.  He did this when he was deep in thought, devising strategies for the war or working through a challenge between the teams, looking for the correct words, which was most of the time these days. It was what made him a good leader. "I miss her." he said, nodding as though he agreed with his own words, the pain evident in his eyes.  Darion looked at the Warrior, stunned by the confession. They had never openly talked about Casina between them, but her death had evidently crushed them both. She may have been Darion's blooded sister, but she was also Marzden's chosen love. They had each lost something vitally important the night Casina died. At that moment they realized the other suffered as deeply and silently as he did.

Author's Note

These are the first chapters to a story I wrote the other day.

I would like to know if there is enough dimension to the characters personalities?

Did you feel the intensity of the alley scene?

Does the story sound interesting?