Ancient Read online

  Copyright © 2022 Rain Carrington

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover by Rain Carrington

  Illustrations by Sara Guevara

  Cover Art Stock Photos

  Table of Contents

  Preface

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  More from Rain Carrington

  Preface

  Newspapers were strewn all over the room, but he wasn’t looking at them. The entire surface of the mahogany desk, over the Persian rug, the deep leather armchair was covered in them. There were many times in his long existence that he didn’t think he could read another word or see another picture of the travesties humans inflicted upon one another. All the conflict, war, hate, it made his chest hurt. For centuries, he’d been caring for the human race, fighting them against their own base instincts. Most of the time, it had been worth it, and he could make a dent in their vileness.

  This time, like a few others, it was draining him.

  To contemplate a lengthy rest again was selfish, he knew. He had a family, and they depended on him. He didn’t have it to give them, though. He was depressed, and that often led to sulking away for months in his suite or den, ignoring them anyway. It was better he slept and awaken when the times were a little brighter.

  How he would tell Gus, though, he didn’t know.

  “How will you tell him?” Lura asked, having come into the room silently, her long shirts whispering over the floor as she drew closer to him.

  In the two braids she wore, bright purple ribbon was woven, and feathers lay over her ample breasts, like she walked out of a painting of an ancient Native American woman instead of the African princess she was. Eyes bright as she studied him, he knew he couldn’t hide from that scrutiny.

  She was still the most beautiful creature he’d turned, and she was his first. “You speak like you know my mind.”

  “You gave me the gift, so I shouldn’t wield it?”

  Her dark skin and high cheeks made her big eyes a constant narrow, but they were slits as they stared at him in that moment.

  “Not against me.”

  Her hand, cool and soft, lay over his on his desk, and he looked down on them, smiling tiredly.

  “Please, Father, speak to me.”

  She hadn’t called him that in centuries. Cupping her cheek with his other hand, he wanted to tell her he wouldn’t go, but all he could manage was, “I’m tired, my dear daughter.”

  “How long before you leave?”

  On her voice, melodic and soft, there carried memories that he couldn’t let cloud his decision. “A few weeks at the very most. I must prepare Gus. He’s always so lonely without me.”

  “He’s a child, Father. Your child, and no one could be as devoted.”

  “Though it was me who hurt him in the first place.”

  She smiled, though it was sad. “You saved him. No, he’s not perfect, he’s not a scholar, and will never be, but he loves you more than anyone.”

  “Stop trying to talk me into staying put, Lura. I’m not some human, who can’t see past your glamour and wiles.”

  Turning her back on him, she took a few quiet steps, resting her hands on the window. “When you left us last time, we knew it was for the best, Father. You needed to go, to sleep away the torment of seeing what humans can do to one another. Knowing you can’t save them all, even from themselves, it weakens you, and you’ll need your strength.”

  The ominous way she’d said the words made him tense at once. He went to her, gently turning her to face him. “What are you saying?”

  “Jeremiah has been taking the news you throw into the bins and reading. He sees trends, sees something coming. Possibly for us.”

  The abyss that their existence could be never bothered him. Mostly because he refused to allow it. He’d promised himself eons before that he wouldn’t be the killer of the innocent that his maker and so many others of their kind were. There were always dangers, however, lurking in the distance. Killing only the evilest of humans, trying to save others, it made for few meals and even less friends. Other vampires saw them as weak.

  Not worrying for himself, he thought of Lura, of Gus, his sweet, gentle Gus. The shy but deadly Maria Gloriana, and Jeremiah, the newest but possibly wisest of their nest. Their family. “Tell me.”

  “I will, and if you must rest, you’ll make it decades and not years or centuries?”

  Resigning to this, Nekuramdalh sighed, “I swear it on our family, Lura. Now, tell me.”

  Chapter One

  With the smells of the diner clinging to his clothes, onions, garlic and most of all, grease, Adam never had to worry about sharing a seat on the ride home. The bus was rarely crowded that far out of town anyway, but he was always assured of a lot of room to stretch.

  If only the last stop wasn’t so far from his house, he wouldn’t have two long miles to walk after eight hours at the diner on his feet. Still, it was worth it, if only to make sure his little sister wasn’t living alone in the house with their father.

  Detective Conner Dunning, Adam’s dad, was a cop, but he wasn’t averse to breaking a few laws now and then, as well as bones. The scar on Adam’s leg attested to that. That one had hurt, causing him to wear a cast for three months.

  He felt the autumn coming on quickly, the cool wind of the evening reminding him he should have brought a jacket heavier than his treasured blue hoodie as he stepped off the bus, the gravel under his feet making that crunching noise that he hated.

  The bus’s airbrakes let loose before it started to move, and it did a U-turn to head back to the city, leaving him alone in the twilight to walk along the barely paved road. Trees danced on either side as the wind picked up, making a hissing noise through the leaves that hadn’t fallen.

  The walk didn’t bother him most of the time, except when clouds hid his only light sources. There were no streetlamps to guide him. Whatever stars there were, and however full the moon was, that was all the illumination he was allowed for his nightly trek. In the summer, it wasn’t so bad. The nights lasted a little longer then, but the closer it got to winter, the more ominous the walk home was.

  The scent of a skunk came and went quickly on the wind, warning him to keep a keen eye out for the spraying animal. A skittering of tiny legs on leaves to the right, left him to wonder if that was the skunk, or one of the other animals that lived in those woods.

  There were few predators there, the cougars preferring the higher ground, but they’d seen some tracks now and again. Wild dogs had once had a decently sized pack there, but the sheriff had allowed the scattered occupants in the area free range to kill them.

  No, it was mostly squirrels, skunks, and various rodents, but that didn’t take away Adam’s imaginings of killer beasts, lurking just out of sight, shadowed in the trees to pounce on him before he could make it to the illusion of safety that his home was.

  By the
time he got to his long driveway, clouds had rolled in, covering what little light was being shed. He was used to it, of course, and knew the route. Still, the night sounds, crackling twigs and indistinct animal noises didn’t ease his raw nerves.

  The house in the distance was lit in only one window. The kitchen, where he’d find his sister, bent over books at the huge kitchen table. It was an old farmhouse, two stories of nostalgia. The outside needed paint, the porch rails around the front needed fixing, and it had a general sense of gloom surrounding. Not a day went by that he didn’t wish he could go on to college or just move the heck out to go anywhere.

  Not while Anna was home, stuck with their father, though. He’d yet to hit her, doting on her mostly, but there was no way Adam would take the chance that could change. If he was there, incurring Conner Dunning’s wrath, Anna was safe.

  Sure enough, as he was coming through the back door there was Anna, bent over her history book. Her eyes, the same aqua marine surrounding the gold closest to the pupil that he possessed, immediately stared up at him, pleading. “I hate history! It’s totally illogical.”

  It was good to laugh a little after the long, dark journey, so he left his backpack by the door on the hook and went to sit on the bench next to her. “Of course, it’s illogical. Humans are illogical.”

  “That doesn’t help,” she huffed as she tossed a handful of her chestnut hair over her shoulder, leaving the scent of her coconut shampoo in the wake.

  Thinking it over, trying to find a way to place history into a logical perspective for his future scientist sister, he struggled, but came up with, “Chaos. Chaos is a thing, right?”

  Her eyes closed as her head moved back and forth, showing she was not on board with his theory. “Adam...”

  “No, hear me out. There is no rhyme or reason with humans. They go by pure animal instinct most of the time, filtered through a conscience. Well, not always, but still...”

  Anna’s eyes snapped open, and she glared at him, but he didn’t think she saw him at all. Her mind was moving a thousand miles a minute. He thought he could see the cogs turning in her pretty head.

  Chewing on her bottom lip, she contemplated his words more, then whispered, “Chaotic energies. It explains why they, why we, keep getting ourselves in the same idiotic situations.”

  “There ya go.”

  The way she blinked over at him, her eyes narrowed a little, she again presented the question she asked almost daily since he’d graduated a few months before, “Why are you still here?”

  It wasn’t his place to taint her view of their father. To Conner’s credit, he’d hidden most of his darker side from Anna. His rages were saved for when she was sleeping or away from the house. How could he tell her that his life was on hold, fearful that if Conner’s target, Adam, left, he’d look to her?

  “I’m saving money for college,” he gave, his usual answer.

  “You give most of your money to Dad, for rent. At this rate, it’ll take you fifty years to save enough.”

  She was smarter than even he, who thought her a genius, gave her credit for. As she continued that intrusive glare, unrelenting, he did what he always did, and used distraction. “Get to work. History, remember?”

  “History. What your dreams of school will be if you don’t get out of here. Aren’t you tired of coming home smelling like cheeseburgers? What about archeology? You were going to be the next Indiana Jones.”

  Laughing, trying to lighten the mood, he replied, “I don’t have his skill with the whip, or his strong, broad shoulders.”

  She didn’t so much as crack a smile. “Adam, I’m okay here. You know he’s not going to hit me.”

  Having her confirm that she knew his poorly veiled secret didn’t thrill him. “I don’t trust him, Anna. I would leave him with just about anyone, but not you. Mom made me promise when I was a kid to always take care of you, and that is one promise I’ll keep. So, stop this, get back to work, and let me find something to make for dinner.”

  “Fine,” she sighed. “God save us from gallant men.”

  “Yes, indeed.”

  They both jumped as they heard it, the squeak of the hinges, signaling the front door had opened. Their father was home. “Goodie,” Anna droned, rolling her blue/green/gold eyes in an exaggerated way. “I’m heading to my room.”

  “Go the back way.”

  The kitchen was like any other in an old farmhouse such as theirs. Big, plenty of counters with old, laminate tops, the flower design faded. White cabinets, in need of fresh paint, and a deep sink that was stained, but familiar. The faucet had a mind of its own, leaking some days, some not.

  He started a pot of water boiling on the gas stove, setting the flame high to hurry it along.

  “Women are shupposhed ta do the cookin’,” Conner slurred as he stumbled into the kitchen. “Oh, yeah, ish a woman.”

  Adam ignored the words as he had since his mother had told Conner their son was gay. She’d regretted it, begged Adam’s forgiveness many times, but it wasn’t needed. He didn’t care what his father thought about him. “Sit down, Dad, before you fall down.”

  Conner was already taking a seat in his chair at the head of the table, where he’d be until his plate was set in front of him. Still, he argued, “Don’t tell me what ta do, boy! Jush like that captain ‘o mine. Tellin’ me to get help...Help with what?”

  Your drinking, your abusive rages, Adam thought, but kept to himself. “Did he take your badge and gun again?”

  “Yesh,” he started, then went on a tirade of barely audible curse words to describe the man who’d already given Conner more chances than he was due. The thin blue line, Adam thought, wasn’t thin enough. His captain had taken his badge and gun many times, then believed Conner when he said he was off the booze and getting better.

  Working as quietly as he could, Adam got spaghetti cooked. He wasn’t great at it, but it was edible. Anna came in when he called her to eat and sat on the other end of the table from her father, right across from Adam.

  They both watched Conner’s head drooping until he lay it next to his plate. Anna continued to roll her eyes throughout, picking at her food. Once, she whispered, “Too bad he missed his plate. I’d have it on Instagram.”

  He meant to chastise her for that, warning that if he found out, it could get bad, but all he could do was laugh.

  They washed the dishes together, and Anna helped him get their father on the couch, neither willing to try to get him up the stairs to his room. He got a hug around the neck before she went back to her room, claiming to be tired. Adam knew better. She’d study for hours with her small lamp to glow on her books.

  When he finally lay on his bed, he stared at the cracked ceiling, wondering how long it would be before he could get away, get out, get a life. He missed his friends, seeing them rarely. He’d never had a real boyfriend, only a couple guys online that he chatted with now and then. They lived in other states, and promised to visit, but they were empty promises.

  His life had stagnated, waiting for his sister to finish the last two years of school. He didn’t regret his decision, but he did mourn his youth slipping away like he felt it was, so quickly.

  In the diner the next day he waved to his boss, Helen, and got right to work in the kitchen. He was prep cook, dish washer, and whatever else he needed to be on any given day. He didn’t mind the work, it made the days go by quickly.

  After the previous night and his sister’s question about archeology, slicing tomatoes and refilling the pickle bin seemed more tedious. He’d dreamed of it since he was a little kid, digging up ancient ruins, finding things that could illuminate the past. Just once, he wanted to find something that could make a difference in the way people saw those who came so long before them.

  Sometimes, on his walks home, when the light was just right, he’d imagine himself, digging in those woods, finding arrowheads that were older than anyone had found so far. Pots that people five thousand years before had carried water ins
ide of, or plates they’d eaten from. He’d read every book on the subject at the local library and ordered some from online stores. It fascinated him.

  There were times he thought he’d get there, and others that he was sure he’d only move up to flipping burgers one day. That the only digging he’d do would be to get the dandelions from the lawn at home.

  That night’s walk in the dim twilight was one he let his mind explore where his hands couldn’t. He peered between the trees, the shadows cast there disguising great treasures under the surface of the loam.

  If he stepped three feet into the trees, he’d see a mound, waiting to be seen for what it was, the burial place of vast treasures. Not gold, no, but bones, ancient weapons, or...his deepest wish, scrolls that told of the lives of people like him, only thousands of years in the past.

  The turnoff from the road to the driveway came too soon. He’d loved getting lost in his fantasy, hoping that wasn’t all it would ever be. Standing there, on that soft curve, the gravel under his feet, he glanced once more into the trees that were enshrouded with night. The tops danced with the wind current higher up, and the sound it made was like the world was whispering to him. Hurry up, Adam. Hurry, before all the secrets have been unearthed.

  Brought from his thoughts abruptly, hearing the scream made his heart stop a second before it burst into a stampede. He ran, his feet seeming to fly over the gravel that would normally cause him to slip.

  The house seemed to move away from him, the faster he ran, the farther it was as he heard his sister’s screams in that great distance. That’s why, when he reached the house, he was surprised he’d gotten there.

  The door screeched and banged open, and he was rushing through the house, barely able to breathe as his heart thumped so hard in his chest and his mind raced as to where she could be. Once he saw the kitchen, saw it empty of her, he heard the scream again, and his head fell back as he stared at the ceiling.

  She was in her room.

  He went for the back stairs, taking them two and three at a time. When he reached the landing, again, it felt as if the door to her room, ajar, casting a glow over the scuffed wood floor, was miles from him.