Salvation : Book 3

CHAPTER 2 : Only Survivor

Malek 

The sun poured into my apartment through the drawn drapes. I groaned at the dull throbbing of my head and the bitter taste of alcohol on my tongue. The loud buzzing wasn't helping my case. I drew my eyes open; shaggy chestnut locks immediately invaded my vision. I could feel the weight of someone's arm draped over my waist. I reached to slowly remove the arm, careful not to wake... Eric? Alex? what's-his-name up. 

     Slowly I slid out of the bed, grabbing my phone off the bed side table before I tip toed out of the room in nothing but my boxer briefs. I made it into the en-suite bathroom before answering the phone. I didn't bother to even check the caller ID as I rubbed the sand out of my eyes. 

     "What?" I said my voice raspy and my throat a bit sore. 

     "We need to meet," Damien's voice came through the phone. I frowned, knowing full well that he never called with anything good. What was wrong now?

      "What happened?" I asked as I dragged my feet over to the sink. I stared at my reflection. My hair was a disheveled mess, my eyes were puffy and circled by dark rings, my skin looked flushed. I turned on the faucet splashing my face with cold water. 

      "They have the child," Damien informed me and I froze for a second then my jaw clenched as my grip on my phone tightened. 

      "What do you mean they have him?" I asked, panic lacing each word. This couldn't be happening. "How?" 

       "We need to meet," he said instead. 

       "Yeah, yeah. I'll be at the usual place in twenty," I told him, before hanging up then tossing my phone onto the marble floor. The screen shuttered but I couldn't care less. I ran my hands through my hair frantically as I paced the room. 

      This is bad, this bad, this is bad. I chanted. My mind was running rapid, a riptide of confusion and worry weighing over me. 

      I'd failed him. 

      It was the most potent thought running through my head. It was true. I had failed him. I was supposed to protect him and now he was in the clutches of the enemy, my brother. He was in danger and it was all my fault. 

      Ashon had being trying over and over again for the last few centuries to recreate the ritual that had turned us into what we were. Into the abominations that we were. It had never worked before. I never thought it would, I hoped it wouldn't. I kept watch each time he convinced some half witted or greedy witch into doing the spell. Each time it ended the same. They died. Countless witches had lost their lives in his search. But not him, not Marcus, he was the only one who'd survived the damned ritual. 

      Which was the worst thing that could have happened. 

      It meant that he could open the door, the gateway between our world and a prison that was locked tighter than the pentagon. A prison holding a beast of pure darkness and malice. He was destruction and death. A soul of sheer anger and hatred. If he was released, that would be it, for the world and everything and everyone in it. It'd be the end. 

      This one little kid could bring forth the destruction of everything, but only in the wrong hands. He was still just a kid, he didn't choose this, he didn't want this. But fate is cruel like that, no one gets a say in how their story goes.