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by Nikon Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 18+ · Novel · Supernatural · #1948944
I would like some feedback on the first chapter of a book I am writing.
Chapter One

         Early morning light flooded through the windows of the 3rd floor apartment giving the place an eerie glow. One of the windows was aimed at my face causing me to see red on the insides of my eyes. I opened them quickly and they blurred in the light. The light was reflecting through tiny raindrops splattered on the glass. As if the light wasn't enough it had to magnify through water. Wait rain....did it rain? I don't remember hearing it. Then again I was slightly intoxicated. Just then something lit up on the dresser breaking my concentration on the raindrops. My phone. It vibrated over the oak dresser top, emanating a buzzing sound as it went. I noticed I wasn't alone when the girl across my chest stirred. I reacted quickly and slid silently from underneath her and caught the phone as it fell from the dresser. The girl just rolled over and grabbed her pillow. I felt pleased and smiled at the skill it took to do that. Practice, practice.

         I slid the lock to the answer position on the touch screen and whispered quietly into the receiver,” Hello?”.

         “Sir”, returned the voice of Isaac, my driver and bodyguard. I don't need one but the Family insists upon it, “Derek needs to see you. The car is out front.”

         “How did you find me?” I asked. I thought I lost him last night when I cut through the park. Hmmm note to self, find new escape route.

         “It's my job, sir”, he said. I could hear the smile in his voice, as he hung up the phone.

         I closed the phone and put it back on the dresser snatching my pants from beside it knocking a lamp to the floor as I did. In my flurry to catch it I hit my foot on the side of the bed. I groaned when I heard the lamp smash and looked at the girl on the bed. She just twitched then snuggled up to her pillow. I stared, ignoring the pain in my foot. Maybe she thought I was still there. She would wake up disappointed. I sat down in a chair by the window near the bed and gazed upon this creature.

         Her name was Jessica Normandy. Like the country. Jess as she had said when I bought her the first drink. She was law student attending Stanford. 4.0 I would imagine. She was here in Washington visiting her parents who divorced when she was 8. This she said after the second and third drinks. She had dark hair that complimented her skin nicely. Which was barely covered by the thin crimson blanket. My eyes gleamed as they traced over her delicate curves, stopping at her neck for a moment to admire the slight pulse slowly coursing her life’s blood all over that petite angel’s body, and then finally landing on her beautiful face. She was sleeping soundly, breathing slowly through her nose. How did she do that? I sleep with my mouth open; at least I think I do, like most people of the world. Unless she wasn't asleep. Just waiting until she heard me leave before “waking”. Probably not wanting to face the shame of a one night stand. She had daddy issues to work through. This she laughed about after the seventh drink. I noticed her nails clinch into the pillow. Bad dream maybe? Her nails were sharp, deadly looking. I looked at my shoulder. Slightly healed scratch marks could be seen fading into nothing. Yeah daddy issues that was for sure. I looked back at her. Was it wrong to leave her with no note? No goodbye? Yes, but why care? She'll end up getting married in ten years and settling down. I'll still be young. Of course she didn't know that little detail. It's not my fault she didn't ask how old I was. Plus telling someone you’re an immortal is not exactly a good conversation starter. I laughed at the thought.

         I stood up deciding it was time to go and  I put my black pants on. I grabbed my black shirt off the foot of the bed, putting it on as I grabbed my phone from the dresser. I started toward the door and my shoes. I picked them up and opened the door in one motion. I saw Jess rise up groggy as I closed the door. Maybe she wasn't faking after all. I remembered my jacket abandoned on her couch as I turned to leave. $4,000 black leather jacket crafted from the best Italian designers’ money can buy. Hopefully it's a nice thank you for a one night stand. I took the elevator down groaning at the cheesy elevator music and glided past the reception counter half laughing as the young female receptionist slid off her arm prop and hit the desk. I strolled past a young couple arguing about whatever normal people argue about. Then I pushed the doors open and the suns glared hit me. Blinding me.

          Making me see stars.

         I blinked. My hand instinctively went up to shield my eyes. After a few moments my vision began to clear enough to allow me to see Isaac standing beside his limousine. He was clad in his normal black Armani suit which stretched across his overly-muscled chest. I wondered faintly if that was the only suit he had or if his whole closet was full of the same outfit.

         “Hello sir, Derek says he needs to see you. It's an emergency.” He said, his gravelly voice breaking my thought.

         “Isaac, with Derek it is always an emergency.” I countered, walking toward the limo still holding my hand up over my eyes. As I approached Isaac he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a pair of black shades and handed them to me. I took them and put them on without a word. Most people would have thanked him for this kind gesture, but Isaac understands me and has learned to ignore my lack of appreciation. Besides he is a servant, nothing more. I realized I was still holding my boots so I opened the door to the backseat and sat down.

         “Damn.” I mumbled. Isaac reached into his pocket with his right hand. For his gun I thought, but instead he pulled out a pair of bright white socks and handed them to me. He really came prepared. I put the socks on and said, “You couldn't have made them black?”

         He looked at me for a second and said, “Why would I do that, sir?”

         “You know I hate white. It's too bright,” I said looking up at him.

         “Exactly....sir,” he said walking around to the driver’s side. I sat there for a minute. Well played. Not like I don't deserve it. He's one of the only people to actually show that he doesn't like me. One of the only reasons he's still around. He doesn't hide in a facade like most people of the 21st Century. I respect that about him. I finished putting my boots on and slid into the limo closing the door beside me. Isaac pulled into traffic and began to drive away. I looked back at Jessica's building and saw her, wrapped in the red blanket from her bed, watching me drive away. A crimson angel. She looked sad. Maybe I'd see her again. Probably not. Her face brought back memories of the 5 centuries worth of women I'd left in the same way. I shoved the thought away as her image faded to blend with the chaos of the city.

~~

         I pressed the button to raise the window dividing Isaac and I. I thought he might want to bask in the glow for the moment. Probably took him a lot of time to think of that clever insult he threw in my face. After I closed the window I looked around the car. It was new. The outside was the same matte black as the other cars. The inside however was very spacious, unlike the usual car, and it had leather seats and tinted windows. Which I'm sure were illegal. The Family had its ways around illegal however. Why did Derek decide to change my normal car? I panicked for a moment then reached under my seat to the hidden switch that was in the usual limo. My hand came in contact with the familiar button latch. I pressed it and the seat to the left of me gave way with a gentle click and then slowly whirred forward to reveal my secret cache of weapons. All of my normal weapons were there. My silenced Beretta M9 pistols, my wrist blade, even my MP5 sub-machine gun for particularly hairy situations. The only change was a new slot that  housed an exact duplicate of my Italian black leather jacket. I laughed slightly as I pulled it out. Never unprepared those Seers.

         Perhaps I should explain before we move further. I am Wilem Drakanoire. I was born in Ireland in 1438. Yes that means I am over 500 years old, but you would not be able to tell by looking at me. I am not a love-struck vampire or some cursed immortal who can't look upon his painting. I was born and I can die like other mortals, and I've aged. Only slowly. Very slowly.  According to the Family the key to this immortality lies within my blood. So far they have not been able to pin point what exactly causes me to live forever, and are unable to replicate this lovely anomaly. I can't complain though. It's  not everyday that someone gets the opportunity to stay 25 forever.

         I don't remember my parents, but after they died I was adopted into the Family. The Drakanoire family are a clan that has past down knowledge and wealth to each respective generation throughout the ages. They have become more civilized as time went on, becoming scientists and doctors still working with the Family, but bringing more conventional teachings into it. The leader of the Family is a man known as the Drakan. The current Drakan is a man named Cain. Cain's family are the ones that started this organization. The role of leader has passed down through Cain's family for generations. When he came into power he was an amazing leader, but at the age of 60 he is having trouble holding onto that power. When Cain was a younger man his wife and son were both killed by a disease that spread through the Family. After this event he never remarried and formed a council of elders in the Family to help with the decision making process. The Council is a group of old men that argue about ever decision that needs to be made in the Family. Mostly they just envelope the entire family in a sea of bureaucracy.

         At the moment the Council is headed by Derek, who is also youngest member since it was founded. He is a direct spokesperson for the Drakan, and uses strong guidance for decision making from the Seers. The Seers are the prophets of the Drakanoire family. They are psychics who see into the future to find people who will betray or hurt the family in any way and provide guidance on how to proceed to the Council and the Drakan. Most within the Family view them as mutated freaks of nature. Derek however, sees their potential.

         The Drakanoire family has been in constant war with a group of religious fanatics known as the Aurellians for over a thousand years. 

         The car began to slow as we began to reach our destination. The house of the Drakanoire. Or at least the American version. The Family recently moved to Washington State from Italy. Big change if you’re not used to it. The mansion was on an island about 40 miles off the coast of the U.S. Spanning this distance is a bridge that took 10 years and $500 million to make. Oh the things money can buy. The house itself is three times the size of the White house and more protected, with every kind of high tech security you can think of. Cameras, lasers, motion detectors, even dogs. Not to mention highly trained mercenaries that work for a group of radical gypsy on patrol 24/7. The Family has a tendency to overdo. As Isaac neared the gate he lowered the window that divided us and said,

“We've arrived sir.” As if I didn't already know. I think he just likes annoying me. He stopped at the gate and pressed the intercom button,

         “It's Isaac. I have secured the package. Requesting entrance.” he said as if recorded. Package? Possibly an inside joke among security.

         A nasally voice came over the intercom and said, “Access code please.”

         “8244976.” Isaac replied. Weird there’s never been a code before. Security has really tightened down. I wonder what’s going on.

         “Access granted.” The voice said after a moment. With that the huge iron gates swung open. Isaac moved the car slowly forward and up the drive to the front doors. The house looked massive up close. As we neared the doors I noticed a line of cars I'd never seen before. Something was definitely going on today. The car stopped. Before I got out, I grabbed my blade from the hidden compartment in the seat. I wrapped the sheath around my right wrist and attached it. This one wasn't my original. It had been modified to fit more securely around my wrist, making it hide more easily. I also noticed a button on the inside of the sheath next to my palm. I bent my wrist back clicking the button in. The blades extended quickly with a satisfying swoosh. I smiled. Nice. I took my palm off the button and the blade stayed extended. The blade itself was about 10 inches long. Longer than the 7 inch blade I had before. It gleamed in the light. I could now move my wrist freely with the blade still extended. This would make it easy to maneuver while the blade was out. Brilliant scientists. It only took them a century to modify it. I pressed the button again and the blade descended back into the sheath. Fully hidden. Then I grabbed one of the M9s and took the silencer off. I checked the clip. Fifteen rounds. One in the chamber. More than enough. I opened the door and stepped out of the car sliding the gun in the back of my pants as I did so, to bring as little attention to it as possible. I also grabbed the jacket from inside the car and slid it on. It covered both the gun and the sheath nicely. I made my way up the steps to the front door. Isaac followed suit keeping his distance behind me. As I neared the doors I saw two bald men standing guard. They were wearing white robes. One had a neatly shaved black beard and looked to be in his thirties with a very burly build. The other was a younger, very skinny man and his eyes were darting around the whole compound. Looks like his first time on guard duty. These two guys were definitely not Drakanoire guards.

         As I neared them the bearded man said in a husky tone, “No one is allowed inside.” I ignored him and started to walk past them into the house. The skinny one put his left hand into my chest preventing me from passing. His right hand darted to a curved knife that I hadn't seen before. On his right hand I saw a tattoo of a sharp A with a sword through it. The mark of an Aurellian.

         The burly, bearded man stepped to the side of me and said again, “No one is allowed inside.” He had the same Aurellian crest. I pushed passed the skinny one and headed for the doors. That’s when things got bad. Skinny drew his knife and Burly grabbed my shoulders. Instinctively my elbow went back and collided with Burley’s nose. I felt it crush on impact and Burly backed off for the moment. He was howling in pain. Skinny lunged with the knife and I dodged grabbing his wrist and taking the knife from him. So simple. Burly, with his now bloody nose, recovered and swung wildly toward me, but I was faster. I used his momentum to spin him around and hit him in the chest with my left palm, his ribs cracking as I did so, knocking him backwards through the front doors and into the hall. He was down for the count. Skinny came back and threw a punch toward my face. I moved my head to the left and he hit one of the solid oak doors. I heard a snap and he cried out in pain.

         “Dumb ass.” I laughed. I took his broken hand, not all too gently, with him whimpering and laid it over the door palm down so the Aurellian crest was showing. “Well now! I wasn't imagining it. You are an Aurellian. Would you like your knife back?” With one clean motion I stabbed the knife into his hand. The knife went in clean. Like cutting through butter. Skinny shrieked as the knife shattered the rest of his already broken hand.

         “WILL! STOP!”, came the voice of Derek from the hall. I looked up to see his six foot tall frame speeding toward me furious.

         “They attacked me first.” It was childish to say. Even if it were true. I turned to Isaac who was leaned against one of the lion statues in front the house just watching the whole ordeal. “Thanks for the help. Dick.”

         “Any time boss.” he replied smiling sarcastically. Skinny began trying to pull the knife out of his hand and detach himself from the door.

         “I didn't say you could leave.” I told him. With one sweeping motion I kicked his feet from underneath him causing the knife to slice farther across his hand. His blood was pouring down the door. He started to cry.

         “WILL!” Derek knew he couldn't touch me so he stared at me with a hatred that couldn't be described in words. Whatever the Aurellians were doing here it was definitely important.

         I met Derek's furious green gaze fearlessly, “Why are these degenerates here Derek?”

         Before he could answer a man of about 6'4” with shoulder length dark hair, blue eyes, and a very athletic build came into the hall and said with a thick Irish accent, “Degenerates? Oh come now Wilem. Look what you have done to my guards.”

         It was the voice of my twin, Alexander.

         Alexander Aurelius.
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