Vilmo's Wrath: Deglon Blood (2 page)

“He will come for her. My connection with him is too strong. It will be me that leads them to her. Noah, I … take her away from here. Keep her far from me. Make sure no one can sense her. Not … not even me,” Mia says, looking deeply into Noah’s bloodshot eyes.

Noah wants to protest, but he reluctantly nods.

“We tried,” Mia whispers.

Tears drench her face as she kisses her infant’s hand. Noah nods.

“We failed,” he says.

Mia’s heartbreak shoots through him like bullets. She wipes her cheeks and shakes her head.

“Not yet, you didn’t fail. You keep our little girl safe, no matter what, you keep her safe,” Mia says, struggling to keep tears from forming in her eyes.

Noah nods and kisses her. Before she has the opportunity to say goodbye, Noah vanishes with their child. Mia falls to the floor and grabs her chest. Each heartbeat causes a stinging pain as she is hit with the realization that she has lost everyone important to her in one single moment.

 

 

Twenty-one years later 1903

“Time is closing in on us. I need more strength,” Dumont says.

“What can I do, Father?” Aria asks.

“Take me somewhere. Where are the strongest of the gifted? Take me there!” he orders.

Aria smirks and nods.

They travel for days to a royal palace in England. Dumont smiles when he notices the power of the many energies that race from place to place within the castle.

“There are royals here, Father. They are the strongest of the gifted,” Aria says.

“I can feel that. Prepare for my introduction. Be sure only the strongest are saved for me,” Dumont says, climbing out of his car.

Aria and several Light ambush the castle guards, killing them without them even knowing they were being attacked.

Following the trail of bodies Dumont strolls into a gilded room. The walls were made of pure stone with flakes of silver and gold. Rays of light fall through the high open windows to the gorgeous tiled floor.

Aria smiles proudly at her collection of gifted that struggle to break free from her mind’s hold. Among the small group of prisoners, King Alastair and his son Silas stand near the royal table unsure of what to do.

“What do you want? Who are you?” The King shouts.

Dumont laughs. He gives a slight bow.

“Good evening, Your Highness. I am Dumont.”

“What is going on here?  Why are you doing this to us?” Alastair asks.

He tries hard to steady his trembling voice. He stands by his son’s side nervously ready for a fight.

“I apologize for this rude intrusion, but I’ve come to ask for the help of only the strongest of you gifted.”

“You kill my family and then expect us to willingly help you?” Prince Silas shouts.

Dumont smiles and runs his fingers over his gray, bushy mustache.

“Willingly? Well, it would have made this easier. How old are you, boy?” Dumont asks.

“I am no boy!” Silas snaps.

Dumont’s grin widens.

“Boy? You will address my son as he is, a prince!” King Alastair barks.

Aria punches him in the jaw and he falls to his knees. Silas lifts his father back to his feet and glares at Aria, then turns his attention back to Dumont.

“What do you want? It’s obvious you’re not after money. What did you come for? Is it the key?” Silas asks.

“Key? What key?” Dumont questions.

“No, Silas!” Alastair begs.

“Uh—the key to the safe,” Silas quickly answers.

“Prince Silas, you know—you shouldn’t lie,” Dumont says strolling closer, threateningly.

His face is now inches from Silas’.

“No matter. I will know soon enough.”

Dumont backs away and takes a stroll around the room.

“This is a very nice place, but could use some minor changes. This will make an amazing home for my daughter and me. Look at her, wouldn’t she make the prettiest princess?” Dumont says, sitting at the royal table in the king’s chair.

Aria smirks.

“Take what you want and leave!” Alastair says, dabbing the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I need a body. Mine—well, it's aging too fast. I just haven’t decided which out of the bunch of you I will claim.” Dumont says.

Alastair sighs.

“You’re demons, aren’t you? The ones we’ve heard about?” he asks.

Dumont grins.

“Demons? That is what you’ve named us?”

“That is the name of evil. Beings from the Dark World,” Silas says.

“Dark World, huh? We aren’t from any Dark World, but I can’t deny the evil tendencies. I can say this, no matter how horrible your Bible says the
demons
that roam this world are—I am much worse!” Dumont says in a terrifying tone.

“Release my people and my son, and I will grant you permission to have my body. All this will be yours,” Alastair says bravely.

“I don’t need your permission. All of this will be mine anyway. I’ve already decided which body I will claim,” Dumont replies.

Silas’ eyes dim, he looks over at his father, his heart rate increases ever so slightly, but he shows no fear.

“It's me. You will take me. I will not fight,” Silas says.

Dumont grins again and stands. He casually walks over to the two of them.

“No!” Alastair begs.

“I beg of you, Sir Dumont if no one else … let my father live,” Silas pleads.

“Sorry kid, this kingdom can’t be run by two kings,” Dumont declares, snapping the king’s neck with a wave of his finger.

As if every muscle in his body weakens at one time Silas falls to the floor the moment his father’s body dies.

Dumont nods to Aria and in seconds, bodies drop all around the prince. He weeps silently, trying to be strong as he watches Dumont steal his people’s life force with one deep inhale.

Dumont gestures with his hand for Silas to stand. Uncontrollably Silas stands. Bewitched by Dumont’s power Silas cannot move. Defeat rushes over him, a tear trickles down his cheek and he closes his eyes, preparing for Dumont to invade his body. A deep warmth and then a chill runs through him.

Dumont’s old body drops to the floor. He twirls with excitement within Silas’ body. He races to Aria and lifts her off her feet with a bear hug.

“You do understand what this means, don’t you? This boy was no mere gifted, he was a guard. A guard for the Dark World. A world I never knew existed. Oh, this is going to be fun. Did the gods really think I wouldn’t find out about this?” Dumont laughs. “Once you find Nora I will have everlasting life and we will have everything. Can you do that for me, darling? Can you find her?”

Aria nods.

“I will find her, Father.”

Dumont grabs her hands.

“I know you will, sweetheart. Go—Go pick out your room.”

Aria races off excitedly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

T
he unseasonably mild air makes Nora shiver, as she sits on the balcony outside her bedroom, listening to the sea crashing on the rocks. Out of all the seasons on Caladesi Island, springtime is the most relaxing to her.

Though she loves the quiet living, Nora suffers from extreme loneliness. Too often, she buries herself within novels and gets lost within the contents of the pages. Sometimes even creating her own reality from them, allowing her imagination to get the best of her at times.

“Twenty-one-years. Twenty-one years of life tomorrow,” she says, as she inhales the spring air.

She flinches just a little as the mist from the waves below tickles her nose. Just as every morning, the ocean welcomes her with a tickle that always surprises her.

Nora’s father has made a big deal about her turning twenty-one. Convincing her that this birthday will be different from the rest. She may not have to spend another birthday locked in her home with her father and Uncle Rod, pretending they are all having the time of their lives. Nora has high hopes that this year she will finally get a chance to do more than eat overly sweetened birthday cake. She dreaded being reminded that they all once lived a happier life. Each of them barely holding the smile that hides the pain that lingers in their eyes. All of them knowing that things will never be the same.

Every day this month, Noah told her that he wished she could stay young forever. He spent more time with her this month than he had in four years. Nora didn’t mind the attention. In fact, she loved it.

Her father and her Uncle Rod’s mysterious business kept him away a lot. Nora was never told what her father did for a living. He always told her, it was for her safety that she didn’t know until she was old enough to handle it.

Nora always assumed he was a secret agent.  As a child, she even went as far as acting out scenes where he and she were partners. Her dolls and stuffed bears often played the part of shape shifters, vampires, and thugs, for her to rough up. She would play for hours, making up ways to kill them or put them in jail. It was her way of staying close to her father when he was away.

As she became older, she occasionally asked him about his work, but he always gave her a small kiss on the forehead and smiled, “now is not the time, Nora,” he’d say.

Those words rolled off his tongue so frequently, Nora began to hate them. She despised them so much that for an entire year she tried to avoid using them in her sentences.

Noah Langly is a serious man. Nora would say, too serious at times. His brown eyes seem to see people’s deepest secrets. Although Nora doesn’t remember her mother, she always thought that she got her good looks from her father. She loves that he and she favor so much. Except, Noah is blessed with flawless features that Nora often envies. His wavy, chocolate colored hair is perfectly bouncy and shiny. When Nora was younger, she would primp in the mirror for hours trying to get her hair to have the bounce her father’s has. His high cheek bones are picture-perfect. She often admires his perfect skin, which is naturally tan and completely blemish free. Everything about her father is inhumanly perfect. He’s 6’, 3” tall and built like he works out, but Nora has never seen him exert himself in any way.

Sometimes Nora would sit and stare at him while he reads the paper, marveling at how young he looks at fifty-one. She never understood why he never aged. In those moments again, her imagination runs wild with
what ifs
. There was a time she swore he was a vampire. To prove she was right, she snuck into his room while he slept to see if he had a hidden room with a coffin in it. Sadly for her, she found nothing. She never hid her curiosity while she looked at him, yet he never asked why she did it, he only pretended not to notice.

Nora has been home schooled her whole life and never had the chance to make any real friends. Other than watching students out on the playground across from the park where her father used to take her and the teen books she read, she never knew what it was like to be popular or picked on. There was a time she would have given anything just to know where she would have fit in. At ten-years-old, she begged Noah to take her to school. Noah placed her on his lap and kissed her cheek.

“This world is dangerous for a girl as special as you,” he said.

Although those words stirred up her curiosity, Nora found that hard to believe. Before she was six years old, she was trained in every self-defense, including weapons. Although she never understood his reasons, for the most part, she trusted her father. She always believed he had a good reason for everything. The older she got, the fewer questions she asked.

Nora always found it strange how deep of a connection she and Noah had. Sometimes she even thought he could feel her no matter where he was. Like her very own guardian angel, looking after her.

This month Nora’s body changed. She can feel it, but is still uncertain what the change is. Her gums have been sore and she occasionally tingles all over. Unnatural to any normal person she would guess, but she ignores it.

Although not much has revealed itself over the years, Nora knows there is something big her father is keeping from her. Something that will soon surface, which makes her almost fear her upcoming birthday.

 

 

Noah stands perfectly still in a room filled with artistic golden statues. Three blurred images sit up on large golden chairs. In the bright room. Noah drops to his knees and bows.

“Rise, Noah,” a soft voice echoes.

“Your child is in danger. For that matter, the world is in danger,” another voice says.

“I am aware of the danger that follows my daughter,” Noah replies.

“No, I don’t think you are. As you know, our lead soldier has rebelled against us. Evil beings will find you soon,” Losrath declared.

“My lords, I have known Dumont’s intentions for a long time now. But … no Szion is as strong as Dumont. We are just trying to survive. Thank you for the warning, but I’m afraid I don’t understand the point of the meeting,” Noah says.

Rod and Robert Crew walk out from behind a curtain, both with sadness on their faces.

“Have you brought us here to ask us to stop him?” Robert asks.

“No. We are not the ones that will be able to stop him,” Rod answers.

“It’s Nora and Robbie. Isn’t it?” Robert asks.

“They are the only ones that can,” Desmond says.

“What is it that you want? What can two children possibly do against, Dumont?” Noah snaps.

Losrath slowly stands.

“You will contain your frustration,” he says calmly.

Noah quickly bows and again kneels.

“Please forgive me.”

“Your daughter has something Dumont wants. She can be of valuable use. When she and young Robbie bond it will be powerful. Their love is—like none we’ve ever seen. So—pure. Even, after all these years they still long for one another,” Losrath says.

“No! She’s just … You will not put Nora and Robbie in danger,” Noah says, trying to control his tone.

“Noah. Nora is no longer a child. That world needs her,” Desmond says.

“I will take care of Dumont!” Noah says firmly.

“No. Even if you three try, he will not fight you head on. You will be overpowered by the demons from the Dark World. Dumont has also recruited half of the Boligon army to do what he commands. His army is too strong in numbers for any Szion. But soon—Nora and Robbie will be stronger than any being we have ever seen. If their love is as strong as we hope it is, then together they can get rid of Dumont. Nora alone is more powerful than any three Szion. That is what Dumont is after and he will not stop until she is dead. But … if they cannot stop him …”

“I will kill him,” Noah says.

“I think you forget one important thing Noah,” Losrath says.

“What’s that?”

“Dumont knows your weakness. Every day he uses your daughter against you. You will never be able to do what needs to be done.”

Noah sighs.

“I will take care of it,” he insists.

“As you wish, Noah. If Dumont cannot be stopped, we will send for any Szion that wishes to return and that world will be destroyed,” Tromtorrio says.

“No! What about the lives of our children and families?” Noah asks.

“We have made our decision. Now, you make yours. Do not allow Dumont to kill Nora. If you do, all is lost in that world,” Desmond says.

“I heard you the first time,” Noah says softly. “There will be no need to destroy our home. Nora will be ready.”

In a heartbeat, Noah is back at home standing at his back door.

 

 

Two teenage boys, friends since second grade, spend three days planning their suicide. Young men picked on and ridiculed by bigger and more popular boys. This year the boys are in a new high school—seniors. This year they’ve sworn not to be the pun in the jokes of others. They would make a stand showing them that they are not to be messed with.

They have convinced themselves that they have grown into beings with growing supernatural abilities. Each of them huge fans of all books about the supernatural. They are determined to prove that they are changing, now that they are older—becoming powerful, more powerful than any human. Both ready to give their lives to prove they are no longer human.

For months, they talked about it. They finally decided that tonight would be the night they publicly show that not even death scares them.

They believe that not even a bullet can kill them. Never had they attempted to test their assumptions, but tonight they will show everyone that they can defeat death.

For two days now, Dumont has secretly watched them. Amused by their desperate attempt to get attention.

While the boys spend hours drinking and listening to loud music outside the school yard in a small wooded area, near a small campfire, Dumont approaches.

“So, you boys have big plans tonight, do you?” he asks, snatching the bottle of whiskey from the taller of the two.

Dumont sips from the bottle and sits on a tree stump opposite of the boys. They stare up at him in surprise and then laugh. Dumont nods, laughs, and takes another drink.

“What’s it to you, Prince Silas?”

Dumont stares at them for a long moment. One tall, scrawny, and clumsy looking with dark hair and freckles. The other medium height, blond hair, with glasses, and a strong stutter. Dumont smiles.

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