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Front Page / Copyright

Prophecy: Child of Light

 

Felicity Heaton

 

 

Copyright © 2007 Felicity Heaton

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior written consent of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

The right of Felicity Heaton to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

First printed March 2007

First Edition

Layout and design by Felicity Heaton

All characters in this publication are purely fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Edited by Maria Morpeth, Alison Puddick

Cover by Felicity Heaton

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Trapped.

That’s what she was, and what she had been for as long as she could remember.

The walls around her had closed in over the years, making the mansion increasingly unbearable, and drawing her ever more to the world outside her bedroom window.

Rain rattled against the windowpanes, creating an eerie melody when combined with the howl of the wind cutting through the power lines. Watching the streaks of water coursing down the windows, Prophecy ignored the ramblings of her blood-mother, Iona, and kept her focus on the dark garden outside.

She slowly ran the brush down her long auburn hair, smoothing away the knots and tangles.

Something stirred in the night and her gaze shifted there. The hunting group crossed the grounds towards the gates. There were eleven of them tonight, one less than last night because one had fallen. Talk of it had reached her even before her mother knew. The walls had ears in this house and Prophecy knew the owner of them.

A chance meeting with the other bloodline that lived in this city had led to a fight in which her family had lost a son.

Not that she cared.

What was it to her who died out on the hunt? She didn’t know them, or anyone outside a set sphere of people.

Her brown eyes followed the group as they reached the gates and she watched them slip into the darkness beyond. She knew where they were going. They were heading down into the city, down to a place she’d never been. Losing sight of them, she glanced at the high stone wall that surrounded the grounds.

It was the final barrier between her and the city. The outside wall of her prison.

A wall she longed to breach.

“Where do they go?” she said in a distant tone of voice, sounding as disinterested as possible.

She heard a swish of material and felt her mother close behind her.

“To hunt,” her mother replied, matter of fact. She took the brush from her.

Prophecy mused her mother’s answer while she stared at the rain-soaked scenery and felt the brush in her hair, her mother’s delicate fingers working through the knots.

To hunt.

It sounded so enthralling, so dangerous and dark. She wished she knew what it was to hunt. She had never been allowed out into the night with the others, not even with her so-called brother, Arkalus.

“Can I go too?” She knew what the answer would be, but hoped that tonight it might be different from the thousands of times that she’d asked in the past.

“I am afraid not.” Iona smoothed down her hair.

“Why not?” Prophecy turned to face her.

Iona didn’t look at all concerned by her outburst. Her face was a mask of calm and beauty. Luscious black curls framed her face and wicked red marked her lips. The layers of black and brown surrounding her eyes turned them sinfully dark and alluring against her creamy pale skin. In all the years that Prophecy could remember her, Iona had always looked this way—like a true child of the night. Her mother was a fitting master of their bloodline, never straying from the tradition of dress or habit. Never straying from the laws.

All her life, Prophecy had obeyed the rules of their society and of their house, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to obey her mother. She could feel the lure of the outside world keenly, as though it was in her blood, and she could no longer ignore it. She had tried. She had spent night after night resisting the call of the city and the promise of excitement it whispered in her ear. Now her blood was screaming at her to escape the confines of the mansion and taste the thrill of the hunt, to take hold of it and live the life she was born to.

“You’re too young.” A fond smile teased her mother’s lips and she raised a slim hand. She pushed Prophecy’s hair behind her ear, clearing it from her face. “Soon, maybe.”

Prophecy allowed herself a small smile. It was the first time her mother had said such a thing and it ignited a spark of hope inside her. She glanced at the window, still smiling serenely as her eyes followed the spatter of the raindrops against the glass.

“But first, you must complete your training.”

A sigh escaped Prophecy’s lips. Each night she woke and went through the rigmarole of training, and each night they held her back while the others went out to hunt. All she wished for was one night of freedom.

One thrilling night out hunting, even if it were with Arkalus.

Then she would be happy.

Then she would gladly spend eternity cooped up in the mansion.

She watched her mother leave and turned her attention back to the rain-soaked world outside her window. In the distance, she could see the pinpricks of light that were the buildings in the centre of the city.

Prague.

She longed to go there.

During her studies in the library, she’d read every book about the city and its dark history, even when she was supposed to be reading about her family and their own black and bloodied past. She didn’t care much for them or the other family that presided over the city. She just wanted to be out there in amongst the people, and feeling the thrill of the chase.

She wanted her first taste of a kill.

Standing, she ran her fingers around her throat while thinking about her first kill and her large dark eyes scanned the horizon. She caught sight of two guards patrolling the grounds.

Why was everyone else allowed to hunt when she was forced to stay at home? She’d done her training, knew how to execute a clean kill, and could defend herself from the other family if she needed to.

She was ready.

Why didn’t anyone see that?

Why was she being held back?

Casting a glance around her dimly lit room, she stopped when her eyes came to rest on her wardrobe. A mischievous smile wove its way across her lips.

She would see this city. She would feel the excitement of the hunt and learn the taste of fresh human blood, and no one would even know about it.

Tomorrow, the night was hers.

* * * *

The city was dark and clouds hung heavy in the air, weighing down upon it as they threatened rain. Prophecy slipped through the black shadows. Quieter than a cat, she moved from street to street, invisible to the people walking them as the nightclubs turned out.

She froze when she entered the cemetery, hurriedly crouching low and turning her face to the sky as a rumble of thunder echoed overhead. Her eyes narrowed and ran over the clouds, assessing how long she had before the downpour reached her.

Just enough time to hunt.

She listened to the chatter of people as they passed by on the other side of the wall, unaware of the creatures they shared their world with.

Creatures like her.

She couldn’t remember a time when she had been like them. She’d never been able to remember it. Her kin barely spoke about their lives as humans, but she knew they could remember them. On the rare instances they’d mentioned them, she’d always been listening from the shadows. Their conversations had left her wondering about her life before she was a vampire and why she couldn’t remember it.

The voices drifted into the distance and she stood up. She moved swiftly into the inviting darkness of the graveyard, allowing it to envelope her and hide her from the world.

She slipped from tomb to tomb, sharpening her senses more and more with each passing second and waiting with baited breath for someone to stray from the human world and into hers.

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips. She pressed her back flush against the wall of a crypt when her sensitive ears picked up the sound of footsteps heading towards her. Her eyes closed as the person neared and she listened to their erratic movements. Inhaling deeply, she tried to catch their scent in the damp air.

Lightning forked in the distance, the thunder rolling above her just a few seconds later.

She only had a short time before the rain came, but it was all she was going to need.

She grinned when the man she was tracking stumbled and fell.

This man had been drinking.

Smoothing her clothes, she checked her appearance and then slipped out of the shadows and into the path of her quarry.

He stopped, his eyes raking over her as she stood awaiting him.

“What do we have here?” he breathed in a thick Czech accent.

She braced herself when he took a step towards her, his smile widening. Her stomach tightened with nerves and she struggled to keep her focus while she repeatedly went over what she needed to do in her head.

She managed a smile, dipped her head slightly and looked up at him through hooded eyes, luring him in. She fluttered her eyelashes when he stumbled forwards. The stench of alcohol came off him in waves and intoxicated her senses as it mixed with the scent of his blood.

He wasn’t a large man, barely the same height as her and nearly as thin. His sandy hair hung in loose, wet curls, like a shaggy mop on top of his head. Had someone dunked him in one of the city fountains? The rain couldn’t have soaked him because it hadn’t reached them yet.

“All alone…pretty girl like you…city like this,” he slurred.

She kept her smile steady, holding her nerve and waiting for the right moment to strike.

When he came within arm’s reach, she lowered her head completely, turning it away from him so she was almost looking behind her.

So shadows hid her face.

“I don’t come out often,” she said, hesitating while she built up the courage to take her first life.

“Shame…not enough girls like you in this city. You shouldn’t hide away.” He stepped up to her.

His fingers brushed against her cheek. She closed her eyes and inhaled sharply. Anticipation curled like a snake in the pit of her stomach and she was ready to strike.

“Not enough girls like you in the world,” he murmured and she smiled.

“You’d be right

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