Lacrimosa (Requiem Series) Read online

  LACRIMOSA

  The Requiem Series

  Book 1

  By

  Christine Fonseca

  Lacrimosa, Requiem #1

  Christine Fonseca

  Copyright 2012 Christine Fonseca.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, taping, or by any information storage system without written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  ISBN (hardback): 978-0-9847863-6-7

  ISBN (paperback): 978-0-9847863-7-4

  ISBN (eBook): 978-0-9847863-8-1

  Compass Press books may be ordered through booksellers, Ingram, or by visiting our site and contacting us here.

  Because of the dynamic nature of the internet, any web address or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

  Stock imagery provided by Thinkstock. Cover design by CP Design.

  Compass Press 3/13/2012

  Other titles by Christine Fonseca available from Compass Press:

  Dies Irae (A Requiem Novella)

  Dedicated to Aydan and Nesy ~

  It may have taken me longer than I’d wanted, but I’ve finally given your story to the world. Now all will know of your sacrifices and love.

  “Ah! that day of tears and mourning!

  From the dust of earth returning

  man for judgment must prepare him;

  Spare, O God, in mercy spare him!”

  ~LACRIMOSA, Requiem Mass

  English Translation by William Josiah Irons (1849)

  Chapter 1 – Unwelcome Feeling

  Nesy

  I shift in the booth, careful to remain hidden in the shadows. My human form feels foreign, awkward. Nothing about tonight’s assignment seems right; not the constant thoughts echoing through my mind or the everpresent feelings I can’t seem to shake.

  I tighten the muscles across my back, desperate to escape the confinement that comes with this new body. One I never wanted.

  My senses register each scent, each sound, adding to the noise of too much mental chatter already ricocheting in my head. Sweat and too-strong perfume from the tangled mix of bodies on the dance floor burn my nostrils. My heart pounds against my ribs and unfamiliar twinges of fear cloud my vision. Feelings I can’t decipher crawl through my skin, sending chills throughout my body.

  I may have prepared for this task, but nothing could prepare me for being a seventeen-year-old girl.

  Again.

  I slip further into the booth, surveying the scene. Lights pulse around me, synchronized to the blaring sounds that pound from the speakers. Clubbers sway to the music in intoxicating rhythms, casting a spell throughout the room.

  And somewhere in the crowd lurks the one I came for. The UnHoly.

  I narrow my eyes, taking in the irony of the church-turned-nightclub. Tall, gothic arches adorn the ceiling. Old stone sculptures of saints and angels watch the hordes of teens gyrating on the dance floor. The altar, once a sanctuary, now houses a stage where up-and-coming bands woo adoring fans. The remaining spaces are punctuated with small alcoves designed to hide the club’s true patrons—dark creatures that feed on the lust and fear of the human crowd.

  My task is simple enough: find the UnHoly and vanquish him to the Abyss. Just like the countless other assignments I’ve had over the past few centuries. But something about this task feels wrong. Something that sends fresh shivers cascading down my very human spine.

  Little information was given to me about my target, only his name, location, and human age. I’d have to figure out the rest. No problem, since vanquishing the UnHoly is my specialty; whether I’m stuck in a teenage body or not.

  I take one last sip of water and recite my plan:

  One: Find the UnHoly.

  Two: Lure him away from the crowd. Don’t want to ruin my perfect record with collateral damage.

  Three: Cast him out.

  What could go wrong?

  Satisfied, I settle my thoughts and prepare for battle. The sooner this is finished, the sooner I can ditch this body and escape the chaos it brings. My human form may look similar to my angelic being, with its familiar blond hair and blue eyes. But I hate feeling trapped in this flesh, stifled by the heaviness of this body. I miss feeling the air move through my wings and play across my skin. More than anything else, I miss the quiet solitude of my mind; no emotions to muddle my thinking, no angst to cloud my judgment. Necessary or not, I’m never masquerading as a teenager again.

  I smooth out my clothes—black leather skirt, black tee, leather jacket and boots that stretch up my long legs—and approach the altar-turned-stage.

  “Hi there,” I say to the stooge blocking my entrance. I lock eyes with him, tipping my head slightly. I may not like being human, but I do know how to use this body to get what I want. “Is Aydan here tonight?”

  The would-be guard swallows hard.

  Perfect.

  His gaze rakes over every inch of me as his lips part slightly. He swallows hard and smirks.

  Oh yeah, he’s easy. “So? Is he?” I purr.

  He fumbles over his words. “Um, yeah. The band performs in a few minutes. Want me to get him for you?”

  I think about it for a second, picture my plan in detail. “No, I’ll try to find him after his set.”

  “Oh, I’m sure he’ll find you. You’re just his type,” the guard says.

  Of course I am.

  The lights dim and I take my position in front of the stage. Four dark shapes emerge from the shadows. The band. I scan each one as the crowd fills in behind me.

  Heavy sounds from the bass guitar and drums send the horde into a frenzy. I move with the crowd and continue to search. Which one is he? The drummer? Nope, he’s definitely human. The guitarist? Maybe. He’s too dark to be fully mortal. Too demonic.

  But he’s also far too weak to be the UnHoly.

  I scrutinize the rest of the band members. He has to be here. I couldn’t have made a mistake.

  I don’t make mistakes. Not ever.

  A single spotlight focuses on the lean silhouette of the lead singer; a teenage boy who’s definitely more than human.

  There you are.

  He’s taller than I expected, wearing clothes that match my own—black jeans, a black sleeveless shirt open just enough to see his smooth pale skin, and black boots. His chiseled muscles and dye-job-black hair hanging in an unruly mess add to his allure. But it’s his eyes that draw my attention. Amber with flecks of gold.

  Mesmerizing, dangerous, and…

  Familiar. Too familiar.

  I bite my lip, my mind racing. Aydan, the only apprentice to the Dark One. Feared by angel and demon alike. He’s rumored to stop at nothing to procure anything and everything his master wants. Judging by the way he hypnotizes the crowd of unsuspecting teens with his voice and eyes, I have no doubt that the rumors are well-earned. More than dangerous, Aydan is lethal.

  And just my type.

  I check out the club, looking for the best way to lure him outside. He’s managed to elude capture for more than four centuries. Clearly he knows how to avoid the likes of the Sentinals, the likes of me. But not tonight. Not with this body.

  I focus my attention back on him as he finishes his song. There is no evidence of his true nature reflecting in his features; no fangs or claws to signal danger. No sulfur-scent or bloodlust. No proof of the demon that lurks just under the surface. No
thing except the black bat-like wings curving across his back, hidden from everyone.

  Well, almost everyone. Not expecting me, are you?

  His voice intoxicates the crowd. The hunger in his eyes reveals his true intent. Aydan is on the hunt.

  Two can play at that game.

  I notice a small door at the end of a corridor adjacent to the stage. No doubt it empties to the alley that flanks the church. Perfect. Now, to get him outside before he chooses one of the screaming girls as his prey.

  Aydan finishes his song as I make my way around the stage and towards the hall. I watch him turn away from the crowd.

  Almost time.

  The horde screams for him, begs the band to continue.

  Aydan grabs the mic. “Do you want more?” he yells. Their response, a cacophony of “Yes!” and “We love you, Aydan!” rings through the rafters of the once-holy building.

  I watch as he works the mob into a craze. Voices blend away. The scene shifts. All I see, all I hear, is Aydan. An unfamiliar current of electricity streaks through my body, causing my heart to beat wildly against my ribs. The tiny hairs on the back of my neck stiffen with anticipation while anxiety fills my senses.

  This can’t be happening.

  I force my heart to slow and shove aside the silly human reactions.

  The guitarist starts to strum a ballad. A light frames Aydan as he begins to sing in slow, rhythmic phrases. He scans the crowd; a predator looking for his prey.

  Time stops as he turns to me. Our eyes lock and a smile pulls his lips.

  My skin erupts in gooseflesh. My legs begin to wobble. His smile broadens and for a brief moment I forget how to breathe.

  Strange sensations inundate my thoughts as I feel my abdomen clench and my body tremble.

  His stupid mind tricks are working. On me.

  Not acceptable.

  Chapter 2 – Hunter

  Aydan

  The crowd is wild tonight, hordes of kids desperate for a little action. The perfect hunting grounds. Maybe that’s why I stick with the band—the free food.

  My senses pick up the distinct scent of vanilla and warm sugar. My favorite. I feel the craving start at the back of my throat. I have to find the source of that scent and drink from her soul.

  Soon.

  The lights drop as I sing a slow melody. The rhythms are smooth, seductive. I watch the girls drop their defenses and feel their lust rise with each word I sing.

  Scanning the crowd, I search. My need grows with every passing second. Every girl strains to look at me and through their eyes I see their desire, taste their lust. It floods my senses, nourishing me.

  But the feeling is temporary, just enough to awaken the Beast within and force me to continue the hunt.

  My eyes settle on a girl near the back of the crowd, sandwiched between the stage and a narrow hallway. She’s different from the usual patrons of the club. Beautiful—long blond hair, legs that seem to stretch forever, and curves that make me ache. But it isn’t her beauty calling to me, or her distinctive vanilla scent.

  It’s the mystery.

  I can feel her desire. But there’s more too. So much more. Something angry, dangerous. Something that fills the very depths of me.

  I stare into her eyes, and feel her wave of emotion crest. I sing the lyrics to her and watch our worlds join—just me and her.

  Easy prey.

  She closes her eyes, obviously trying to break the spell I’ve cast. But I know it won’t work. No one can get away from me. I’ve had centuries of practice.

  I continue to sing, weaving a trap around my target. She stares at me, an almost pained expression on her face, in her eyes.

  You’re mine now.

  A flood of emotions fills me, chaotic and wild, desperate. Her emotions, her passion. The taste is addictive, and I know I can’t resist her. I don’t want to.

  The song ends as my frenzy grows.

  It’s time.

  Chapter 3 - Chaos Forgotten

  Nesy

  He’s coming through the crowd, straight for me. I need to lure him outside; complete this task and get out of this darn form. But my feelings are too erratic, too chaotic. My body is confused. And my mind, lost. Memories that aren’t supposed to exist threaten to undo me. I need to think; get this human body under control.

  I need to be alone.

  I run down the hall, ducking into the bathroom. It is just as I suspect—small, dank, and stuffed with Aydan’s would-be victims primping and getting high. I squeeze into their near-vacant thoughts, willing them out of the cramped space. Not exactly within the rules, but a necessity if I’m going to salvage the situation at all.

  One by one, the parade of girls spill from the bathroom until, finally, I’m alone. I grab the sink and glare into the human eyes reflecting back at me.

  “By the strength of Mikayel, you’ve got to get it together,” I say to my image. “Teenager or not, you're still a warrior. He’s your target, nothing more, no matter what you think you feel. He kills humans for sport. He’ll kill you tonight if he gets the chance.”

  I take a quick breath, forcing the nonstop barrage of images from my thoughts. A boy, tall, with amber eyes that stare through me.

  He’s not Adam. He can’t be.

  That life ended centuries ago.

  I stare back at the human version of myself. “The Council trusted you with this job. No one else. You told them you were ready for it, ready to be human again. Ready for what that might mean. You will not disappoint them. You will not forsake your commitment. You will not feel. Period.” I stare at myself, half expecting the reflection to answer. Moments click by and the emotional wave passes. The memories clear and my thoughts calm.

  I stretch my neck, my spine, my legs, searching for the comfort I once felt in flesh. But it’s no use. I feel confined. Out of control. Weak.

  I hate being human.

  The only way out is to finish the task. Determined, I leave.

  “You ran off fast.” Aydan leans against the wall in the cramped hallway. “Something scare you?” He moves closer, the warmth of his breath tickling my cheek.

  Memories—my memories—pour forward. The smell of pine on his skin, the feel of his arms around my waist, the taste of his lips on mine. I lose myself in his eyes, in my past.

  Adam.

  Leaning into him, I brush my trembling lips against his.

  No! The voice is loud in my head, breaking the UnHoly’s spell. I can’t breathe. Can’t think. I can only…

  Run.

  The cold night air bites my skin as I burst through the emergency doors, the alarm wailing behind me.

  “Succurre mihi. Help me.” My voice is louder than the shrieking bells. My legs tremble and I grab the stone wall of the church, sliding to the ground. Fear that shouldn’t exist, grips the whole of me. “Succurre mihi,” I say again. “Succurre.” I am overcome by pictures long forgotten. They storm my senses and my mind.

  A dark forest…so cold.

  A hideous monster…sharp teeth.

  A tall boy, golden. Angry…my love.

  I touch my lips. The taste of Aydan lingers there, a reminder of things that shouldn’t exist.

  My heart rips open. “Succurre,” I whisper one last time as the images continue and my mind rolls in on itself. I’m lost inside an unwanted fear.

  And need.

  Chapter 4 - Torture

  Aydan

  I watch as the girl runs from me, intrigued. Her scent, the one I crave, floats in the air, igniting my hunger.

  The hunt begins.

  Everything about this girl is exactly what I need—enticing looks, desire she can’t control, and enough chaos to feed an army of dark creatures.

  But it isn’t her emotions pouring forward that excite me. It’s her confusion, her chaos. Almost like she’s never felt so out of control before. It’s intoxicating, addicting.

  There’s a familiarity in her endless blue eyes, a kind of haunting that reminds me of only one
other. The one I can’t forget. The one I dare not remember.

  More than enticing, this girl is dangerous.

  “Not going after her? That isn't like you.” My master stands behind me, his human form so like my own. Black hair, chiseled features, young in appearance, despite the four millennia that has defined his existence. His cold voice echoes disappointment. “You haven’t finally met your match, have you?”

  “Never,” I growl.

  “Don’t get mad. You're allowed an off day.” I feel his eyes on me, waiting. “Occasionally.”

  His threat hangs in the air. Each passing second awakens the Beast inside, igniting my rage. Rage for letting the girl leave, rage for needing her soul at all.

  Rage for remembering things I shouldn’t.

  A satisfied smile curls on my master’s lips. “Nice. Very nice.”

  I cannot watch him take pleasure in my torment, feed from my anger. Cannot let him know the thoughts that refuse to release me.

  Her eyes. Her lips.

  Her.

  I weave through the club, watching my brethren, dark creatures of every assortment, consume the sins of the naïve teen crowd. The creatures snap their beaks and claw the air as they drink in the lust, greed, and envy of the crowd. The teens have no idea that many of them may not survive the night. They are all lambs to the slaughter.