Origins (A Demonkin Novel) Read online

  ORIGINS

  Book One

  Demonkin Series

  ORIGINS

  An Echelon Press Book

  First Echelon Press paperback printing / 2011

  All rights Reserved.

  Copyright © 2011 by Sean Hayden

  Cover Art © Karen L. Syed

  w/Nathalie Moore

  Echelon Press

  9055 G Thamesmeade Road

  Laurel, MD 20723

  www.echelonpress.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information address Echelon Press LLC.

  eBook 978-1-59080-683-8

  Produced in the United States of America

  To my wife, who told me I should.

  To my children, who whispered I could.

  To my family, who smiled when I said I would.

  Prologue

  Mary Elizabeth Thorn sighed as she layered the final stroke of her thirteenth coat of blood paint. The smell assaulted her nose and made her stomach turn. The combination of milk, lime, and blood became almost too much for her to bear. If she had chosen to summon a creature of light, the milk and lime would have sufficed, but in order to summon a demon, blood had to be spilt. The tome she had spent most of her savings on had been very specific.

  She checked the lines of the pentagram painted on the marble tile she had laid herself in the center of the room and a smile formed on her lips. They lay perfectly straight with no overlapping of the perfect circle enclosing it, and now for the runes. This task made the others pale in comparison. The runes couldn't be painted on; they had to be cut from the paint itself. She grimaced at the pain in her knees as she rose from the cold floor beneath her and strode to the large bench against the wall of her work room.

  The tome rested in its familiar place of honor at the very center of her altar and worktable. She remembered building it oh so many years ago. Each copper nail driven with love, each board cut perfectly by hand without power tools, the blood, the sweat, and the tears that completed the dark recipe. Mary Elizabeth had chosen to follow the tenants of earth magery, but had succumbed to the promise of power only a summoner could deliver.

  She gingerly picked up the silver carving tool and went to the northern point of the star, knelt down and began her grueling task. Hours passed as she carved the intricate runes into the face of the blood paint without scoring the marble. Only that level of precision could contain the demon, a perfect plane of marble below and the power of the runes around to encase the evil within.

  The tome, having been written in ages past, bore only one flaw. When it had been penned, tiles of marble hadn't even been a fleeting thought in the minds of early masons. The tome called for a slab of marble to contain the spell.

  * * *

  Asmodeus sat on his throne and listened to the call. It had been many years since he had heard its ilk. While it had not been meant for him he heard it none the less. Asmodeus had fought many wars and answered countless challengers to be Lord of this Realm and as such obtained the power to answer any summons meant for his minions. He laughed at the feebleness of the call and plucked it from the air and held it in his mighty claw. He thought about tossing it away, then thought better. It had been eons since he had been allowed to cause havoc upon the mortal plane. Boredom overcame good sense and he traveled down the line of the summons.

  He appeared in a blast of fire and smoke and looked around at his surroundings. Smells of blood, milk, lime, and spices assaulted his demonic senses. He lowered his gaze and noticed the small human woman staring at his greatness with fear and respect. He stood motionless and assessed the woman. She bore the marks of beauty as far as humans went, but the lack of horns and wings he found disappointing. He snorted as she stood and watched her walk to the edge of the circle.

  "I have summoned you, vile beast, to do my bidding. What say you?" He could hear the fear in her voice as it infused her words with a perfume more enticing than the blood infused paint she had drawn her pentagram with.

  Asmodeus glanced down at the circle cast thirteen times and found no flaw. An emotion akin to panic flashed through his mind. Never before had he seen its equal, and if he found himself truly trapped, he might be forced to answer the whims of the pitiful creature before him. Then he noticed the marble beneath him.

  He looked up at the human and smiled. Lifting his taloned foot up to the level of his knee, he brought its mass down in one fell swoop. He laughed when he felt the marble shatter. He laughed harder when he saw the face of the human summoner. He felt the fear of his new toy.

  Chapter 1

  I felt the power flow from the tiny circuit board in my alarm clock to the tiny speaker less than an inch away before I heard the annoying "bwa bwa bwa" reach my sensitive ears. I hadn't slept at all today, and yes I mean day.

  My name is Ashlyn Thorn, and I am a freak. I don't mean a "card carrying circus performing" freak; I mean a "nothing quite as unusual as me" freak. I am a nocturnal, blood drinking girl of seventeen, and I know what you're thinking, vampire. I used to think so too, but I'm not. I had been born this way. I know what you're thinking now, and no my father wasn't a vampire. I investigated that possibility as well. Vampires have been legal in these here United States for over forty years, and they all have one thing in common. They're infertile. Every last subspecies of homo cruentus from dementis, to informis, to plurimus, to dominus reproduce asexually through their bite. There has even been talk of reclassification of vampires from the genus of homo all the way back to the class of mammalia. However, the "they had been born human" side of the argument seems to be winning, so the homo cruentus is the legal classification.

  None of it changes the fact I have no idea what the hell I am. I have lived with my Aunt Margaret since the day my mother gave birth to me. I have met several of her closest friends (the ones she can trust with my secret) and none of them has blood which even remotely appeals to my senses. So for the past seventeen years I have been feeding off of her every other night. Nothing boosts your self esteem like being a parasitic niece.

  I look like a vampire too. I have a pale complexion, which makes my red hair seem even redder, and fangs (yes, I have bitten my tongue and it hurts. Everyone asks.). The only difference I can see is my fangs have a slight backwards curvature whereas all subspecies of vampire have straight fangs. I know, I know, how could I possibly know all this? Well, I'll tell you. I fully matured at the ripe old age of seven, and I haven't aged a day since then (another tick mark in the column labeled freak). My aunt also thought it would be wise if I didn't leave the house where I might be seen, so ten years stuck in the same location with nothing but television and a computer probably would have given me the equivalent of a doctorate degree in supernatural biology, lucky me.

  It's not really Aunt Maggie's fault. I asked her about my mother. She told me they had never really been close, and she had lost all contact with her about a year before her death. She seems really sad whenever I bring it up, so I try to keep my questions to a minimum. She and my mother are identical twin sisters. My aunt went into medicine and my mother went into magic. One night my aunt received a phone call from the San Diego police department and they told her of an accident involving my mother. She hopped on the next flight from Chicago and flew out there only to find my mother in the hospital pregnant and brain dead. They explained it as a magical ritual gone awry and even though they couldn't detect an embryonic heartbeat, the sonogram showed fetal movement. My aunt flew my mother back to Chicago and set my mother up in a hospital bed in her guest bedroom. I emerged three months later and my moth
er's body didn't survive. I'm kind of surprised my aunt doesn't hate me, but she has been wonderful my whole life. I have the killer bedroom with a flat screen TV, stereo, video games, and all the little gadgets to drive my friends insane with envy, if I had any.

  Alright, back to the freak list. All vampiric subspecies abhor sunlight. Most burn when exposed. The weaker Nosferatu, or homo cruentus informis, actually burst into flame. Common vampires, or homo cruentus plurimus, burn out from within and leave nothing but ash. Homo cruentus dominus, or master vampires as they prefer to be called merely smoke and get a really bad sunburn, but if fully exposed for long enough they would die a horrible death as all the moisture from their bodies evaporated. Me on the other hand, I simply get really sunburned. It hurts the hell out of my eyes though. My pupils are slit like a cat's, and I can see fine in complete darkness and my hearing and sense of smell would rival a hunting beagle. The only other differences I have noted between me and vampires are my claws. All vampires have stronger than normal fingernails and hair. They often let their fingernails grow longer because they either think it adds to their vampire other worldliness or because they make useful weapons. Mine however, are more like predator claws. The kind of claws you would find on a hunting cat or eagle. Mine don't retract like a cat's, though I wish they did. They're kind of dangerous. Especially when I first wake up and try to rub my eyes.

  I reached over and switched the alarm clock to the off position and got out of my bed, and noticed it said seven pm. The sun would be down completely in a few minutes and my senses told me my aunt wasn't there, leaving me alone in our small house in the suburbs of Chicago. My aunt, being a doctor, keeps some unusual hours, so I wasn't surprised to find myself alone. Knowing I was alone didn't change the nagging feeling I had in my gut. The same feeling had kept sleep from me most of the whole day.

  I went about my usual shower and wake up routine and found myself back in my room in front of the television. Eight o'clock programming on a Monday always brightened my day. I had used my DVR to record my favorite shows and I always preferred to watch them recorded. I hate very few things in this world more than commercials. When you can't use a lot of products, advertising them to your face is a little insulting. So fast forwarding through the commercials I had almost missed the breaking news story about the fatal accident on the Kennedy Expressway.

  My finger hit the play button and the picture jumped back to before the newsflash with the little "blip" noise I had always found so cute. I watched through the last few seconds of a car dealership add with my heart in my throat. The news flash came back on and I saw the helicopter taken images of the expressway. Traffic had backed itself all the way into downtown Chicago, but the crumpled mass of twisted metal lodged underneath the semi in front of it occupied my entire field of vision. It, at one time, had been a blue Volvo just like my aunt’s car. The image appeared too distorted for me to tell if the car belonged to her or not, but the sinking feeling I had plummeted even further into the abyss.

  I grabbed the phone from my nightstand and dialed her cell. It didn't even ring, just went straight to voicemail. I didn't leave a message. I just stared at the television. I didn't know what to do. My mind raced in fifteen directions from all avenues from catching a bus to Northwestern Hospital to running the twenty miles to the scene of the accident. I cursed my inability to do anything and I started crying. I felt hope creep into my heart. Maybe it wasn't her, but it fluttered away. I don't know how I knew, but I did. The car belonged to my Aunt Maggie and she didn't survive. I had to face the fact I would have to live life alone.

  The recorded programming aired an hour ago, so the accident had to be in the last stages of being cleaned up and traffic probably had been rerouted to move around the last remnants. Most likely the police had identified her body and were probably looking for her next of kin to notify. I had the honor of being her only kin. The only problem is I don't exist. No birth records, no social security number, no driver's license, absolutely no legal documentation were on file anywhere. I wouldn't inherit the house or anything in it. I found myself waist deep in crap. Not only had I lost my aunt, but I had lost my home, my sanctuary, and my only means of sustenance.

  Lost in my own thoughts, I wandered the halls of my home. From kitchen, to living room, to my aunt’s bedroom I roamed. I found myself sitting on my aunt’s bed and staring at her four cream colored walls and familiar furniture. I knew I had to leave, but I didn't want to go. For seventeen years, this place had not only been my home, it had been my world. Sometimes I would wander around our little neighborhood in the very early hours of the morning. I had always been careful never to be seen or heard by anyone in the surrounding homes. Superior senses had made it almost easy, but other than those little forays, I had never been anywhere. Not the mall, not the movies, nowhere, and now I had to find my place somewhere in the rest of the world.

  I stood and made my way to my aunt’s dresser and fingered the top to her mahogany jewelry box. Everything of fiscal and sentimental value I knew she kept locked it its many doors and cubbies. She had given me a key on my tenth birthday, “Just in case,” she had said. I didn't know what she meant until this very moment. I ran to my room and grabbed the key from my little chest in my nightstand and found myself back before the case in my aunt’s room in less than a moment. I had little time left. If the Chicago Police Department had one item that made them shine, it was their efficiency. I expected officers at the front door at any time to check for relatives. I had to be gone before they arrived.

  I fumbled with the lock and lifted the top of the case. I rifled through the mish mash of jewelry and trinkets but found nothing specifically meant for me. The first drawer I opened caught my breath. The necklace my mother had always worn lay there with a tiny envelope with my name on it. I left the necklace in its place and gingerly picked out the envelope. I tore off the outer edge like I had seen my aunt do so many times and dumped the contents into my palm. A heavy key and an identification card with my picture on it perched precariously on my shaking palm. The identification card bore the seal of the State of Illinois and had my likeness on it, but bore the name of Margaret Thorn. How my aunt had gotten the identification card forged I couldn’t even begin to imagine. It just wasn't something doctors did from what I had garnered from television. I cast a last glance in my envelope and spied an address scrawled in my aunt's hardly legible writing on a post-it note. I put two and two together and figured the key must have been for her safety deposit box, and the address would lead me to her bank. I had a place to start, and a problem to solve. While I could actually go out in the sunlight, the experience would be quite painful.

  I stuffed the key and I.D. card into my front pocket and removed my mother's necklace from the box. It had the honor of being the only keepsake of a mother I never knew and an aunt I would never see again. I knew I had little time left, so I ran to my room and stuffed my clothes into the one back pack I owned, and left through the front door into the night.

  Chapter 2

  It had been three days since I left my home. On my first day I had armored myself against the sun and gone to the bank where I retrieved the contents of my aunt’s safety deposit box. She knew she wouldn't be able to leave me her savings or her house, but she had left me ten-thousand in cash as a start for my new life. I wept when I saw the contents, and knew I would trade it in a heartbeat to have her back. I missed her dearly.

  I had used my fortune to check into a nearby motel. In Chicago, even the cheapest of nightly accommodations had rooms specifically designed for use by vampires. I could have checked into a regular room and just drawn the shades, but even the tiniest rays of light would have bothered my eyes while I slept. I had another reason as well. I looked like a vampire and had many similar traits of vampires, and yet had no answers as to why. I had a brilliant notion to pretend to be a vampire, so I might as well start playing the part.

  The first night I spent in my room flipping through the meager channels of m
y motel TV. The second night I rolled around on the bed writhing against the pain hunger had created in my abdomen. Today it gnawed at my insides a thousand times worse than yesterday. It had been almost five days since I had last fed. I had no idea what to do. When I checked into the hotel, I had used all my senses to notice those persons around me, and not one appealed to my appetite. I know I'm kind of a picky eater, but I don't think my taste buds mattered. Something special about my aunts blood made it nutritional to me. I had no idea what it could be. Maybe it could be something in her DNA perhaps? Maybe a mineral most people lack? Neither she nor I had come up with any answers. If I didn't find a suitable match soon, I would most likely shut down and go comatose. I might even die.

  I knew I wasn't going to find a solution to my problem lying in my bed, so I got up and headed to the bathroom to clean up. I tossed my clothes in a laundry bag, turned on the shower, and turned around to the mirror in the bathroom. My red hair looked like a frazzled mess, and my eyes sank into their depths sporting dark rings under them. My ribs became visible beneath my skin and I didn't look healthy. I closed my eyes and made my way into the shower.

  I had turned the knob for cold water, and yet it still burned my skin. It warmed me from within as I stood under the gentle spray. I grabbed the little bottle of hotel shampoo, and lathered my hair thoroughly. I rinsed and resisted repeating against the directional use labeled on the tiny bottle. After conditioning and washing with the little bar of green soap I had unwrapped in the shower, I climbed out and dried off. I threw my hair back into its usual pony tail and dressed.