The Faerie Slayer

Chapter 1

Kade's POV

I was clammy with sweat, the music roaring through the speakers of my iPhone held my thoughts confined completely. I heard the sudden ding that punctuated my workout. Naturally for me, I disregarded the sound and pursued to lift the four-hundreds pounds of weight over my shoulders.

Ding

It was firmly an understatement to say that I was short tempered, and an even bigger understatement to declare that I abhorred being interrupted whilst working out. I dropped the rack along with the plates ensuing a loud clash as the metal kissed the floor beneath me. I wiped the sweat off my face and fiddled with my bag until I found the culprit of the sound. I shut the music off immediately. The only time the sound was joyous to my ears was when I was lifting something heavy.

Displayed on the screen was a message from the pack messenger summoning me to my fathers study forthwith.

I glanced at the clock that stipulated that I had been here for over two hours. I've been here long enough anyway. With one swift motion, I grabbed the rest of my belongings and headed out of the gym.

The walk to the study was brisk. The previously azure sky was now replaced with murky clouds. I payed my respects to the crescent moon that displayed itself proudly like a god. Mentally, I proffered a nod.

The study was located inside of the pack house, which also happened to be my main residence. I strode past the small houses in the Odin Pack reserve, admiring the grass that resembled verdant valleys, when flurried by the nights soft breeze, resulting the gust of air that much sweeter. Tonight, the town was quite. Every werewolf had drifted to slumber aside from the patrols that were hidden from sight. Everyone had gone to sleep and like usual, I was the night owl still conscious. The distance in between the homes eventually disappeared and what was left was a gravel clearing panelled by roads of grass, leading up to a stone grand chalet that mimicked something out of a mid-evil film. The home would have been beautiful had it not accompanied memories of horror or been so cold and ill-lit.

I followed the gravel pathway that slightly ran uphill until halting at the large charcoal-coloured wooden double doors that bore the entrance to my home.

The door was already unlocked, not that it was ever not. Inside, the black marble floors were somehow always a startle for my eyes, I always thought that they were too contemporary to this midevil palace. From the hallway closest to my right , the pack messenger stuck out his bald head and pointed it towards the doors that led to the study. I nodded in comprehension and continued.

The lights were off and the only noise I heard were the sound of my steps stalked by an echo. I made my way to yet another pair of dark wooden doors and presented myself with an unyielding knock.

"Come in Kade."

Bold and stern and like a true alpha, the voice of my father alerted my every cell awaken. I unbolted the bar that detained the doors shut and let myself in.

The room was dimly lit, a few candles here and there, sitting on bookshelves that covered the walls from top to bottom. Sometimes I wondered if my father expected me to read the thousands of literature that were in here just as he claimed he did. I did not put much past my father, this included. In the middle was a rustic twelve person table that was occasionally used to host the pack meetings and as usual, Alcindor Odin sat at the head in his brown leather throne.

"Father," I nodded my head, paying my respect.

"Son," he greeted and yielded his hand out as a gesture for me to have a seat. Father was a heavy mean, not stout, but grand, with big arms that resembled boulders and a muscular back so brawn it could be seen from the front. We shared the same brown hair, so dark that at times it could be mistaken for black expect his was long and straddled the side of his neck in a tight braid.

I did as he had implied and took my seat in the third closest chair to him.

"I'm assuming you called me down here for another assignment?"

I was just now noticing the kaki binder that lay atop the timber surface. It has now been over ten days that I had been without assignment so it was only appropriate to presume the purpose for this meeting. Father pushed the materials towards me and I didn't hesitate to grasp hold of it. Inside was the usual.

Birth certificate, proof of address, more identification cards and a photo.

I lifted the picture of the girl to get a pellucid look of her face. It was the inevitable that she was beautiful, like every faerie I've ever encountered and she was definitely no exception. Her jaw was as sharp as a solid form of carbon, facial features fabricated to entice even the most pococurante and uninterested mortal. Ears furred outwards just the slightest, red lips parted as if mounted into a natural pout. Although it was merely a photo, her eyes entrapped my vision and I immediately knew where her strength lie.

I tossed the piece of cardboard to the side and picked up the birth certificate.

Place of birth was unknown, like most faeries. Eighteen years old, birth parents were also unknown seeing as the letters were burned off.

"She goes to the high school in Deadwood Creek," fathers voice pierced through the silence like bullets," you have 48 hours."

I glanced below the ash marks of the burnt words to discover the name of my next victim.

Aubrette Evergreen.

Abby's Pov

I couldn't help the continuous thrust of my vision that lurched towards the big white clock that hung atop the classroom door. From here, I could almost hear the ticks and chimes of every second passing by. I wanted class to be over, I wanted it to be over twenty minutes ago. I stared at the rapidly moving mouth of my teacher, Mr. Bonner and mentally pondered on just how many times he's been teased and tyrannized for bearing a last name as comedic as his. Surely high school must have been hell if kids back then were even half as cruel as they were today.

Ring!

I jolted out of my seat so swiftly that I sent the chair stumbling backwards. I quickly fixed it into place and bolted out of the classroom. On a regular day, I would have been slightly perturbed that Mr. Bonner might take offence to how quickly I had sprinted out of there, but not today.

Today I had things to do and people to see. By people, of course I meant the one and only friend that I had who also happened to be hurriedly rushing towards me through the crowds of students who overflowed the hallways.

Ben had been my best friend since I had moved here with my adoptive parents seventeen years ago. I was now eighteen and and the first year of my life were still a complete mystery to both myself and my parents. I've heard the story a thousand times about how they had been wishing for a baby for years and on one sorrowful and dreary night they had heard a knock on their front door. Upon opening the entrance, they had unearthed the most unexpected surprise. A baby, completely cloth-less, wrapped in nothing but a sheer piece of white silk. An angel straight from the gates of heaven had grazed their porch, my parents would say. Of course my perspective of the event was that my biological parents had haphazardly dumped their baby on a random stranger's porch, completely naked in a rainstorm, but the twinkle in my fathers eyes whenever he re-enacted the real-life tale never failed to overfill my chest with bliss. My narrative had always been side-passed for the sacrifice of my parent's delight and I would never want it to be any different. I was perfectly content with the way things were now.

As usual, Ben wore a dorky grin plastered on his face, his dark brown reading glasses hung by a thread on the edge of his long and slender nose, resulting me with a flair of anxiety that they would come crushing down and fall victim to his black combat boots.

"Hey!" He greeted, both his hands clasped on either sides of his body at the straps of his backpack. I had tried to convince him time after time that we were seniors and that it was no longer an expectation nor requirement that we wore backpacks to school, as a matter of a fact it was quite flustering. It didn't help that we were somewhat of a cliche of outcasts that didn't mold into the puzzle that is high school. I examined his black t-shirt that bore holes and his equally-as-distressed jeans. Some would say his style was stagnant, I called it Ben.

"Hey!" I greeted back, seemingly in a better mood as soon as he approached,"are you ready?"

"Born ready," He exclaimed with sarcasm and together we made our way towards the exit.

We sauntered the streets of New York City until halting at the metro station. A train to Brooklyn later and we were back on the befouled streets that this city had to offer.

"What time do they play again?" I asked Ben, checking the time on my phone to ensure we were within schedule. He had been raving about this new rock band he'd been into lately, and now today I was finally accompanying him to one of their shows.

"I think around 4:30."

"What kind of rock band starts their show at 4:30pm on a school day?"

"They're not school days to them Abby, they are weekdays," he made an odd gesture with his fingers that no doubt only made sense in his brain," we are graduating in just a couple months, you outta know that."

"How do you know these guys again?"I wondered with a tone of speculation.

"I seen a couple of their performances before, they seemed pretty good."

"Where?" My tone was now sneering," and where was I?"

"It was on Instagram live," he replied, almost sheepishly, whilst letting his eyeballs roll to the top of his lids.

"Oh my god Ben, I thought when you said you were 'tight with these guys'," I used my fingers as quotation marks," that it meant you had at least hung out with them."

"I did, maybe not technically, they reply to my comments on their lives."

"They better be good," I mumbled as we stopped outside of the doors of a bookstore," why are we stopping here?"

"This is it," he muttered," this is where they're performing."

Without awaiting for my reaction, Ben had flung the glass door open and slithered through. I let out a sigh and briskly followed.

Inside, just as expected from a storefront labeled bookstore, the floors were matted with an ancient-looking olive coloured carpet. The walls were panelled with dozens of wooden bookshelves that sheltered thousands of books. In the centre of the shop was a checkout counter where a women, presumably in her mid forties guarded a stack of novels. It appeared as if she was taking them from one pile, stamping them, and adding them to another.

"Hello," Ben greeted. His voice had gone low as a result of his bashfulness. That was always something I found so charming about him, how genial and extroverted he was with me but the complete opposite with strangers," is this where Rocks from the Moon is playing today?"

I winced at the band name almost as immediately as the words came out of his mouth.

"Yes, you're a couple minutes early," the lady replied listlessly without ever lifting her eyes from her task," they are in the back room setting up, you can wait with the other fans."

She lifted a purple silhouette nail and pointed it towards the right side where about a dozen wooden chairs were set up. Accompanying the chairs where around six or seven others. They seemed about our age, maybe a year or two younger. The teens all shared a relatively similar gothic attire, black ripped jeans, lots of silver chains and leather boots. One girl stood out of the group bearing the brightest orange hair I had ever seen. She stared at Ben with a slightly mischievous look on her face. I lifted my eyebrows in humour and nudged Ben on the side of his rib.

"Ouch," he mumbled and rubbed the spot I had just hit," what was that for?"

"Do you see that girl over there?" I attempted to point with my eyes.

"Where?"

"Right there."

"There's like 4."

"Oh my god Ben, she's staring right at you."

"Oh, carrot top-"

"Sh!" I nudged him again.

"Ouch! Stop doing that."

"I think she likes you."

"Why do you say that?" I knew my best friend well enough to know when his tone of voice changes, even if it is almost impossible to pick up on had it been a stranger conversing with him.

"Cause she's staring at you."

"In what world does that equal to liking somebody, I stare at people all the time-"

I rolled my eyes and strolled past him, making my way towards the chairs and picking one out of the many empty ones. He briskly followed, his sudden anxiety reflecting onto his aura like a shadow. The band came out a few minutes later, and to the least of my surprise, they were exactly what I had expected. Three boys in their mid twenties, arms covered in patchwork tattoos and clothes that looked like they were picked out of a dumpster. The lead singer had pitch black hair with dyed blond tips that were combed and gelled above his head as if the aim was to gain as much height as possible. He gripped on the flimsy microphone and introduced himself and his band. The crowd surprisingly cheered and I wanted to strike Ben in the gut again when he looked as if he were about to stand up.

The band began to play, a sound that I could not describe as music. The loud and overbearing sound of the drummer pounding on the drum set completely overrode any lyrics that the singer had attempted. The guitarist strummed a tune that seemed entirely grating and off tune. The entire show was off putting but it seemed as if the crowd was savouring every second, including Ben who was practically off the seat of his chair, his scrawny arms raised above his head in complete content. I must admit, seeing Ben as happy as he were somehow made me happier. I guess that is just how it was when you loved someone, their happiness becomes your happiness even if it is at the sacrifice of your hearing.

What seemed like hours later was really just half an hour and Ben was now 'backstage' with the band which was really just a bookshelf separating the area from where they had preformed. I couldn't see what was going on but I knew that the teenage girls had none the less sprinted towards the band like a cluster of groupies as soon as the lead singer had stepped away. I awaited impatiently whilst Ben got whatever body part of his autographed. It was his tradition actually, every time we went to see a performance he'd make it his mission to get their signature somewhere on a part of his body only to scrub it off hours later in the shower. The air in the room was beginning to get a bit too clammy which was very easy to accomplish in a place like Brooklyn. I decided to step outside and sent a quick text to Ben to let him know of my whereabouts.

The air outside was slightly less damp and it aided greatly that there was a slight breeze tonight that sent my long blond hair soaring above my neck. Straight ahead was a newspaper stand that was hardly within sight as dozens of New Yorkers strolled past by the second. In the midst of the movements my eyes caught sight of a particular person who's body aligned with the side of the newspaper stand whom I thought might just have been watching me. A tall, muscular male figure around my age, maybe a few years older dressed in an odd mossy-coloured leather sleeveless suit. The person had appeared to catch my eye for just a split second and then perhaps vanishing into thin air. The air somehow felt colder in the moment and although the interaction or lack there of might have lasted a total of one second, his gaze somehow captivated me into moving slow motion. Slightly puzzled, I scanned the streets in hopes of locating him. There wasn't any other direction that he could have taken that I could not visually see, it's almost as if he had dissipated or became invisible. A hand on my shoulder made me jump out of my skin and I spun around to realize that it was just Ben.

"Ben! You scared the crap out of me!" I declared angrily.

"Jeez I'm sorry, I didn't realize you where so timid."

I sighed in frustration," maybe don't sneak up on me next time."

"Whatever, look at where Zack autographed me," he lifted his black T-shirt to reveal his pallid chest. In the centre was a large scribble that appeared as if it was done with a sharpie.

"What's that, and who's Zack?"

"He's the singer, and it's the letter Z with skulls around it."

"Doesn't look like it."

"That's because you have to see it with artistic vision."

"Or moron vision."

"Guess what? You know that girl with the orange hair?"

"What about her?"

"I got her number," he pulled out a yellow sticky note from his back pocket with triumph. I grabbed it from his hands and read over the numbers.

"Brooklyn area code....ten digits, this just might be legitimate!" I exclaimed with sarcastic excitement.

Ben whipped the paper from my hands and shoved it back in his pockets annoyingly," shut up, you're the one who said she liked me."

"How did you do it?"

"I didn't," he shrugged," she offered."

"That's my guy," I balled my hands up in a fist and pounded his shoulder," are you going to text her?"

"Yeah, but not now, maybe in a day or two."

"Why a day or two?" I scrunched my eyebrows together.

"Keep it smooth, you know, let her know I'm not too eager."

"If you take two days to text her I guarantee you she's not texting back."

"How do you think the band feels right now, knowing that the groupies came for them and left with me," Ben snorted.

I rolled my eyes," are you ready to get out of here?"

"Yeah let's blow this popsicle stand."

Ben and I made our way towards the metro station and eventually bid our goodbyes as we headed to our homes. I couldn't help but deliberate over the man I had locked eyes with back in Brooklyn. I had only seen about half of his face but the concurrence remained fresh on my brain. Something about his enchanting blue eyes that held my thoughts imprisoned. There were many things in life that are easy to forget, I personally happened to be a victim to poor memory but something certain was that I could not and would not fail to commemorate his gaze.