Dark Seeker

  DARK SEEKER

  Taryn Browning

  Copyright © 2011 Taryn Browning

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-10: 1466337524

  ISBN-13: 9781466337527

  DEDICATION

  For my wonderful & supportive husband, two beautiful boys, and amazing family & friends.

  Thank you for your ongoing support.

  Without you, none of this would be possible.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I am so happy to be able to share this story with you. I hope you enjoy it.

  Thank you to my husband, Keith. You are my first editor and biggest supporter. Also, to my two precious boys. Huge thanks to my amazing agent, Christine Witthohn, for getting my stories out and believing in me. I’m so grateful to be part of the Book Cent’s family. Thank you Brent Taylor, for making my books sparkle, and the YA blogging community for your reviews. Thanks to my friends and critique partners, Michelle Madow and Angie Baime. This book wouldn’t be what it is today without your great critiques. Also, Catherine Van Herrin for your fantastic edits. None of this would be possible without the love and support of my parents, Ken & Sandie Hackman and Sheryl Morgan. You’ve always encouraged me to follow my dreams. Huge thanks to my sisters, Lauren and Kim for always cheering me on. There are so many people who have influenced my writing. I am thankful for each and every one of you. And most of all, thanks to you for reading my book.

  CHAPTER 1

  Lesson three of Seeker Training—always be prepared.

  Janie Grey kicked a crushed beer can across the litter-ridden alley. It was unusually quiet in the city; Baltimore normally roared with police sirens, especially this time of night. She perched on the lid of a trash can between two algae-stained brick walls. A liquor store bordered one side, and an abandoned row house was on the other. A graffiti-laden lamp post just outside the alley provided a patch of dim yellow light.

  Janie tensed her muscles and willed something to appear in the darkness. Her adrenaline pumped. She needed to kick some ass. With the city’s murder rate up, the silence certainly had nothing to do with the lack of undead.

  A pulsating vibration quivered deep in her bones, indicating there was one nearby. Finally. She removed the silver-plated dagger from her boot and slowly crept quietly down the alley.

  “Show yourself,” Janie commanded.

  She sensed at least one, maybe two. She could smell them. The smell of death and decay. She gripped the hilt of her dagger tightly. They were fast. She’d have to be ready. She deftly reached behind her to locate the other blade wedged in the waist of her jeans.

  A large mass landed on top of her, knocking her to the ground. A male. She quickly twisted away from him and rolled onto one knee. He crouched in front of her, brandishing his fangs. She could tell by his wild, hungry eyes that he was newly born.

  He looked so human, except for his fangs and soulless black eyes. His kind wasn’t pale; they kept their human-like complexion. But just like a demon, they embodied an empty shell of what was once a living, breathing human being.

  He swaggered forward, and she smiled. This is exactly what I’ve been waiting for—a newbie. . .perfect.

  “Hey, girlie, what are you doing with that dagger? You could get yourself killed.” He laughed.

  She shook her head. “You’re just a baby. You have no idea who I am, do you?”

  “My first meal.” A feral wildness danced through his eyes as he focused on the pulsating vein on the side of her neck.

  “You want this?” Janie turned her head to expose her bare flesh—a perfect view of her jugular. She heard a click from behind. She turned, keeping the newbie in her peripheral vision. A silver trash can hit the concrete, spewing its contents across the alley floor. Two more appeared behind it, a blond woman and a large man.

  Janie whirled back around. With a skipping side kick, she drove her foot into the newbie’s chest, throwing him into the wall. She spun around and landed a punch to the woman’s cheek, followed by a jab to her stomach with the other fist, causing the woman to double over and kiss her knees.

  The man lunged at her, his large muscles bulging through his wife beater and jeans. He knocked Janie to the ground with his fist. She felt the side of her face. Jerk, that’s gonna leave a mark.

  She shot back to her feet and knocked him backward with the handle of her dagger. The woman lunged at her. Janie used the alley wall as a springboard, flying onto it and running up the brick. She flipped over the woman and plunged the dagger into her skull on the way down. Green blood oozed from the woman’s head. Her entire body melted like hot candle wax and seeped into the black asphalt. All traces of her existence disappeared.

  The newbie jumped onto Janie’s back. She heaved forward, throwing him to the ground. But Mr. Muscles wrapped his arms around her. She wriggled in his hold. His grip was too strong to break. He clamped her arms to her sides so she couldn’t use her dagger. The newbie crouched, facing her. He wore a wild stare, like a rabid animal ready to bite.

  “Not so tough now, are you?” the newbie spat.

  Janie’s dark brown eyes narrowed into hateful slits. “I will kill you,” she said.

  In a flash, his teeth sank into her neck. Muscle man held her firmly as the newbie bit even deeper into her vein. She kicked the newbie, dislodging his fangs and sending him back crashing into the brick wall. They didn’t have pure venom. There would be no lasting effects of his bite.

  A blurry shadow streaked in front of her. Crap, another one. And he’s fast. He materialized beside the newbie, taking the form of a golden-blond teenager with white highlights. The newbie scraped his body off the ground and propped himself up by his shoulder against the brick.

  The blond, with medium-length wavy hair, stood about the same height as the newbie, but Janie couldn’t detect any rancid odor around him, unlike the newbie, who smelled like rotten food mixed with sewer runoff. The blond teenager’s eyes shot over to her. They were a deep green, the color of well-watered foliage. A green that could only be found in a rainforest. I’ve seen those eyes before.

  He cocked his slender arm. She turned her head to avoid his strike, but his fist moved past her face and knocked Mr. Muscles to the ground, freeing her. Janie swung around and plunged the dagger into Mr. Muscle’s head.

  The blond drew a long knife from his waist. With its curving silver blade, it resembled a scythe used to cut grass. Janie’s eyes widened. When he raised his arm, she noticed three jagged scars running down his forearm. The blade then circled in one rapid motion, beheading the newbie. Janie stepped back, dagger drawn and pointed at the blond.

  “Watch where you point that thing. I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. After the newbie disappeared into the asphalt, he holstered the scythe in his black leather belt. A hole had started to fray just above the knee in his faded dark jeans. The sleeves of his white tee had been torn off. Green goo was splayed across his chest, like he’d been slimed—demon blood.

  “You’re one of them,” she said.

  “And you’re perceptive.” He took a step closer to her. An aura of arrogance surrounded him. She gripped her blade even tighter.

  “Don’t come any closer, or I’ll kill you.”

  “What, I don’t get a thank-you?” He smiled smugly.

  “For what? You’re a monster.”

  “That’s not a very nice thing to say to someone who just saved your life.” A piece of golden hair fell into his eyes, a strip of white highlighting it. He brushed it back. Under his raised arm, Janie noticed he was slender, but fit.

  “You didn’t save my life. I was holding my own.” Lesson two, the most important—don’t let them see your weaknesses.

  He laughed. “The newbie was about to have you for dinner.”

&n
bsp; “Think whatever you want. I’m still going to kill you.”

  “Okay, girlie,” he replied, a shred of humor in his voice.

  “Why is everyone calling me that tonight?” Janie glared at him.

  “You’re a girl, and you’re young.”

  “I’m older than I look.” She scowled. “Seventeen, as if I care what you think.”

  “You care.” He bit his well-proportioned lip and glanced down at her from his long lashes. Ones boys don’t appreciate and girls would die for.

  “Am I boring you?” she said. It really bothered her that he didn’t smell like the others. She could smell their blood, but he smelled more like lavender and sweat, human sweat. He was cleaner, more put together.

  “No.” He smirked. “You’re actually rather amusing.”

  “I’m glad I amuse you. Now, can we get this over with? I’ve got a wrestling match to get to.” Janie adjusted her stance. He didn’t flinch. She seemed to be an annoying gnat to him. He didn’t appear to be the least bit threatened, which infuriated her.

  “What makes you think you can kill me tonight? You don’t have your car to run me over.” He placed his hand on his scythe again. His palm rested on the wooden hilt, but he didn’t attempt to remove it from its harness.

  She squinted. “That was you?”

  Janie thought back to the previous night. After Seeking, she’d driven through the parking lot she frequently used while in that part of the city, preparing to head home for the evening. That’s when he came out of nowhere. She tried to take him down with her car, at least until she could get her dagger, but she missed and slammed into a lamp post. By the time she regained her clarity, he’d gotten away. She’d gone over and over their encounter a hundred times since then. He was different.

  She just didn’t get the vibe. Usually she could feel when they were around, like that creepy something’s-not-right feeling girls typically ignore, multiplied by about a thousand. But this time she got nothing. It was like he wasn’t even there, until he was there…and then he was gone. And his eyes were so unusual. Not black, but vibrant green.

  “Were you hurt?” he said, pulling her out of her reverie. “When your car struck that pole? Sorry I didn’t stick around to find out.” His hand left his scythe. He paused, assessing her hate-filled expression. After an awkward moment, he extended his arm. “I’m Kai.”

  “I’m not shaking your hand.” Janie stepped beyond his reach. Something was off. He didn’t smell or act like the rest of them, and she couldn’t get over those eyes. She glanced around the empty alley. “Why did you kill them, anyway?”

  “They stink. There’s enough trash on these streets. I’m just ridding the city of filth.”

  “And you don’t stink?”

  “Nope. Just took a shower, in fact.” Kai glanced down at his shirt. “It was clean an hour ago, anyway, and I had sleeves.”

  “What are you?”

  “You seem to have me figured out. I’m a monster.”

  “Is that supposed to scare me?” She raised her guard.

  His voice softened. He forced the sharpness from his tone. “No, Janie. It’s not.”

  Kai left his place next to the wall and approached her. Janie froze. The smell of lavender strengthened, filling her lungs. “How do you know my name?” she mustered.

  “We all know your name.”

  “So you kill your own kind?” Her heart pounded against her rib cage.

  “They are not my kind.” She heard the disgust in his tone. She’d angered him.

  “I know what you are. You’re one of them. So, now tell me, how exactly are they not your kind?” she pushed, visibly stripping away his cockiness.

  The muscles along his jaw line twitched. He glanced off to the side, shifting his stance, seemingly unsure of how to answer. “We’re done here,” he said.

  She blinked and he disappeared in the same blur in which he’d appeared. Janie stood alone, still clutching her dagger. Sweat dripped from her palm. Her fingers ached from gripping the hilt so tightly.

  CHAPTER 2

  Janie returned home earlier than expected. Her unforeseen run-in with Kai had thrown her for a loop. She stepped into the outdated kitchen that she swore got uglier every day. They hadn’t replaced the white cabinets, ivy wallpaper, and dark green countertops left over from the previous owners. Not that it mattered, as they only had one more year in the house—and the cycle would continue.

  Janie’s mother, Isabelle, stood over the stove making chicken soup. “You’re home early.”

  Janie poked her head in the fridge. “I’m going to the wrestling match with Ava.” She felt edgy and wanted to be anywhere out of the city, even if it meant attending a high school sports event. Plus, without her car, she was grateful that Ava, her best friend, offered to give her a ride.

  After retrieving a Coke, she turned back around, noticing and half-expecting her mother’s disappointed frown. Here we go.

  “Janie—you have a job to do.” She gave Janie a stern, straight-brow look—her way of issuing a gesture of warning before she handed out the punishment, like counting to three.

  “I know.” Janie frowned. “I Seek every night. High school sucks for me—for the second time.”

  Isabelle’s voice softened. The lines across her forehead relaxed. “Janie, I know this is hard for you. Life won’t always be this way. I did it, too. You were born a Seeker—try to embrace it.”

  Janie mouthed her mother’s words—yada yada.

  “And stop mimicking me. I’m serious.” Isabelle placed the spoon on the counter and looped a sympathetic arm over Janie’s shoulder.

  “I know you’re serious.” Same speech, different day.

  “I know it’s difficult, but you’re equipped to handle them. Abram trained you well.” Isabelle pushed a strand of loose ponytail behind Janie’s ear, her brown eyes sympathetic. “Go enjoy your match.” She smiled, examining Janie as if staring at a younger version of herself. They looked strikingly similar with their long, straight black hair and tan, youthful Cherokee skin. Both were muscular, but petite in stature. “You’ve known your fate since you were a child.”

  Inwardly, Janie agreed. Growing up, her grandmother would tell her native Cherokee legends before bedtime. Her favorite story was about U`tlûñ'ta, a shape-shifter who could transfigure into anything she desired. She was said to be a “bloodthirsty” killer. The creature, which in true form resembled an old lady with tough, wrinkled, leather-like skin, used her long bony finger to stab people and take their livers. Nothing like scaring the hell out of a six-year-old right before bed. It makes for great nightmares. Thanks, Gran.

  “How do you plan on getting to the match?” Isabelle said.

  “Ava.” Janie removed a piece of gum from her mother’s purse. “When did Sal say my car would be fixed?”

  “In a few days. Be safe tonight—and remember, you’re special, and with your gifts come obligations.” The stern look returned.

  “You mean like the obligation of losing Dad?” Janie immediately regretted her words. Her father’s death had been a closed subject for fifteen years. The crippling event had left her mother lifeless and empty for most of Janie’s childhood. Under no circumstances was Connor Grey’s name ever to be spoken, and her mother’s flinch confirmed that.

  “Sorry, Mom. I’m just tired. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Janie headed outside to wait for Ava.

  Janie and Ava entered the humid gym. The room was filled with the smell of sweat. Ava sported a bright-white smile, hurrying across the wooden court with her auburn curls bouncing on her shoulders. As a pair, Janie and Ava straddled opposite sides of the spectrum. Ava favored vibrant corals and yellows, while Janie preferred muted blacks and grays. Janie wore a fitted black long-sleeve tee, a gray hoodie, jeans and her favorite black boots.

  The wrestlers warmed up. Some jogged around a large, navy blue mat, and others rolled around on their heads, stretching their necks. Under their running pants, Janie noticed they wore their
tight singlets, or whatever they were called. They resembled one-piece bodysuits with tight biker-short bottoms. She chuckled, glad most of them were still wearing their running pants. Singlets certainly didn’t leave much to the imagination.

  As they passed a group of cheerleaders bunched along the bottom bleacher, one sprang into a jump. She landed on her perfectly balanced feet and flitted back over to the group to chat with her leader, Molly Hall.

  “Oh look, it’s Ava, part of Janie’s wannabe Goth nerd herd,” Molly said. She looked them up and down, flipping her blond ponytail to the side of her heart-shaped face. The strap of her uniform arched around her thin, pale neck. Janie glanced at her black tee and dark, worn-in jeans. Ah, simplicity makes life so much easier.

  Ava lowered her head and focused on the gym floor. Four years of Molly Hall, and Ava still couldn’t look her in the eye.

  “Give it a rest, Molly,” Janie said, taking in the clique of on-looking cheerleaders.

  Molly’s flawless, rhinoplasty-perfect nose crinkled. “What’s it to you, loser? You shouldn’t even be here. You don’t belong.” Her lips curved into a half-smile. She turned to her entourage and started to laugh.

  Janie took Ava’s hand and led her up the bleachers. She could kick Molly’s ass into next week, but she’d sworn to use her gifts for good. Sometimes it sucked having lessons. But the lessons kept her grounded. At times, they were all she had for guidance and structure. In a way, she guessed, it made her a better Seeker.

  They chose a seat near the top of the bleachers. “Molly’s so hateful. I wish I could stand up to her,” Ava said, sporting a frustrated frown.

  Janie waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about her. I’ve seen her kind so many times. She only picks on us because she needs to feel like she’s important. Without her Junior Prom Queen status, she has nothing. Trust me. She’s not worth it.”