1

The first chapter of the first book in my first trilogy. I admit it starts off a little slow but just bare with it for a chapter or two; it picks up.

No time to talk. I'm being hunted - well, more like pursued. Daimian and I, were out scouting. We took a wrong turn into Vampiric territory and stumbled into bad company. Daimian is a big guy and all, but even with him being a full lycanthrope and myself, an apprentice, the odds aren't in our favor against five vampirics.

"Ivan, Stop talking to that damn phone and help me splint my leg, would you?" Daimian spat.

"Sure. I was just calling the Den to report our situation," I reply, somewhat defensively. "Where's the splint? More importantly, when did you break your leg?"

"About a block back, when we jumped the wall. I landed funny. Just find a branch or anything straight and sturdy. It shouldn't take too long to heal once I get it straightened out."

"Ooo, Mr. Tough-guy, "  I mocked while glancing over my shoulder. "Here you are, you gruff, old dog. Why aren't we going straight to the Den, though? Surely, we could get help there."

"As correct as you are, my young pup, if one of the vampirics managed to escape, it would know the exact location of the Den, and that is simply not acceptable. So we lose them, and then we go to the Den. There we can bask in the safety of our rooms, and we report out attack and add onto their territory we know they control. Then we're one step closer to discovering their coven and keeping ours safe. "

We hear the hollering of the Vampirics. "They went this way!" one says.

"Follow the blood," another yells.

Daimian looks back to see a steady trail of blood leading right up to us. "Damn, that makes things more complicated."

Then out ears are assaulted with the one thing I knew neither of us wanted to hear - "I see them! I see them! I'm going ahead to get them." A rather ugly vampire said, emerging from an ally pointing at us.

"No, Edward, you'll wait for us!"

"But I can see them, and one can't even move! I'm making my move." The one called Edward starts towards us, taking his time.

"Well that's our cue to get moving," Daimian said, tying the last knot in his splint. "If they catch us we won't last long.

We take off for the street, running at a sluggish pace. We cross the road receiving honks and glares from angry drivers.  Not long after, I feel the tip of a blade against the back of my neck.

"Stop right there. If you move so much as a step,  I'll run my silver through your neck."

I stop and raise both my hands. I slowly turn to face Edward, who was standing with his back to the street. Further down the road, coming our direction was a transit bus. I smirk once I get an idea to lose this pain in the neck. "You're not too smart, are you Edward? I mean, you pull a sword on two people in the middle of the city in plain view of human. Not to mention, a toddler could beat you in battle with the way you hold your blade."

"Shut up, you bloody little gitt. I've managed to get you two at my mercy, haven't I?"

I glance at the bus to judge my timing. "But that's where you're wrong." I swipe my left hand against his arm holding the sword at us, causing him to lose his grip of the weapon. I step back quickly and send my foot into his chest, sending him backwards into the street. He flies right into the path of the oncoming bus, which at this point has no chance of stopping or swerving out of the way.

Edward hits the front of the bus with a loud, thumping-crashing sound. The chances of survival for Edward are a big, fat zero. With the speed that the bus was at, Edward's body all but exploded. His torso hit the bus head on, and both of his arms and legs are torn off from the sheer force of impact. His head becomes nothing more than a large, red mess joining with the guts of countless other bugs on the windshield. Specks of skull and pink stringy strands of brain, or what was left of it, mixed in on the front of the bus. The bus screeches to a halt and the driver walks out. We are gone before the vehicle can come to a standstill.

We run through alleyways and duck through the occasional shop to throw off our pursuers. What a sight we must be: a large muscular man with graying hair, a rough beard, and the rags of a tattered suit clothing him. Following this ragged man was myself: a slim boy of eighteen with a spiked, black mohawk with neon green tips, wearing a studded leather jacket and a pair of pants with enough chains to tie up Houdini without a chance of his escape. We duck in and out of alleys, stores, and pubs. What makes our appearance even better is that we are speckled with blood that doesn't belong to either of us. Seeing that we don't look like a pair of upstanding citizens, I'm surprised the cops weren't on our tails as well. We make a wrong turn in our escape and find ourselves at a dead end. The cries of the Vampirics are still a distance away but too close to risk backtracking. We have no other choice than to jump over the wall.  Judging by the size of it, we're going to have trouble even with our increased muscle strength due to the lycanthropy.

Daimian jumps first, grabbing the edge of the wall and pulling himself up. He hops down to the other side and a muffled cry of pain follows.

it's my turn now. I take a few steps back in order to get a running start. I take off and a soon as I hit top speed, I leap. I soar through the air for what seems like forever, but soon I hit the top of the wall, barely able to keep my balance. I regain my footing, and then hop down and join my master.

"Do you think we've gone far enough to go to the Den yet? I am growing tired of our game of cat and mouse," I complain.

"Not quite. A little further and we can return. Look over there, let's cut through." Daimian points to a door guarded by two bouncers and a velvet rope.

"Uh, that's a nightclub, Daim. We can't just go through willy-nilly."

  "Then it's a good thing one of us can change at will," He says with a wicked grin. His body begins distorting, and his bones crack and pop as they shift and grow.

Once he's done changing he charges the guards, snarling like a junkyard dog and smelling even worse.

Their response to this big, hairy monster barreling towards them, teeth glaring, menacing yellow eyes boring into them,  is highly amusing. They look at each other and, while one takes off running for dear life, the other's eyes roll back into his skull as he faints - something I only thought happened in cheap movies. Daimian quickly changes back and throws on his clothes that had fallen off when he transformed into his wolven form. He is laughing like a schoolboy who had pulled off the perfect prank.

I bow my shaking head in disapproval. "Your methods are gonna get us killed one of these days."

We finally dart into the night club once Daimian calms down.  The club scene fascinates me as this is my first time actually inside one, but Daim seems not to give any notice to the flashing multi-colored lights, roaring techno music, or even the sea of, apparently moody, dancers. Daimian pulls me along behind him as he pushes his way through the dancing club goers. Those we push by curse at us and one even throws a punch at Daim but, unfortunately for me, misses him and nails me in the head. My head instantly goes dizzy, but Daimian still hasn't noticed and continues to pull me along not giving any chance to strike back. We take a turn and go up a flight of stairs and turned again, this time down a hallway. Just before we turn into the hall, I see the four remaining vampirics enter the club and walk along the bar. They were closer than we thought. Of the four remaining, two were men around the age of twenty, one a bit closer to my age, and the last was a woman in her mid-twenties to early thirties. A clubber walks up to the woman and, I'm guessing, starts hitting on her because one of the older guys steps forward and punches the clubber in the face. The clubber drops like a stone. We follow the hall around a few twists and turns and eventually hit the cold Washington air once again. As soon as we are outside, we head outside, and I black out because of the hit I had taken inside.

"What the? This is the last thing I need right now!" Daimian complains, throwing my limp body over his shoulder and begins trudging toward the Den.

Author's Note

This is my first novel so please take it easy on me,lol.

Reviews

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

As first chapters go it's tolerable, I don't mean that in a crafted or bitchy way, just that it grabs the attention and seems just barely to hold it. I must say though, that "Damien", is the one character that is going to give you fans - such strenght and power is what we all look for in a leading man. I must ask - did you intend to give a sense of the old Greek pedantry alliance between the two, or was that an oversight?

[J.R. Bergwick]

It was accidental, but now that i you mention that i can defiantly see it. Any ideas as to better hold the attention of the audience?

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

Well I'e found that secrecy - never giving away to much to soon is always a good way of holding attention, however there is a balance that must be achieved also - your on to a winner here, I'm going to let this first chapter digest before I move on - oh, take a look at my book "Adrian" - it's seen to grab the attention of the writer onhere, I'm not saying review it, just a glance it might give you a few ideas.

[J.R. Bergwick]

I intended to make it obvious that there is a strong bond between the two, Ivan and Daimian. I did intentionally spell his name wrong by the way, in case you were wondering. I wanted a sense of uniqueness and find that most commonly through the names I use.

[J.R. Bergwick]

okay, i will defiantly do that. Thanks again.

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

I though that alright, which is a very clever way of getting the reader to read on - to see if it was indeed a mistake, be well.