Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Darkness Falls

Jessica Sorensen

Copyright © 2012 by Jessica Sorensen.

First Paperback Edition: March 2012

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

No part of this book can be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without the permission in writing from author. The only exception is by a reviewer who may quote short excerpts in a review.

Cover Photo by Shutterstock

Cover Design Mae I Design

DarknessFalls—Book 1 of Darkness Fall Series

Rule #1—Never go out after dark.

Rule #2—Always have a weapon in hand.

Rule #3—No matter what, never EVER get bit.

Chapter 1

The sky is black, the streets are full of cries, and my clothes are drenched with either rain or blood. Maybe both. I’ve broken a rule and the consequences could be disastrous.

Rule #1—Never go out after dark.

The sky is thick with smoke that rises from the fires constantly burnt within the city walls. The broken buildings, lost in the dirt of disease, tower the sides of the debris-covered roads. Abandoned cars thick with rust and fragmented glass wedge the streets. I leap over the hood of one and swing a sharp right, dipping down into the underground tunnels, away from the dead city, away from them.  But a hand grabs the collar of my shirt and I’m yanked backward.

My weapon slips from my fingers and clanks to the ground.

Another rule broken.

Rule #2—Always carry a weapon.

The monster snarls, fangs gleaming, drool dripping from its rotting lips. I squirm from its grip and dodge to the right, but another one appears, just as hungry. I’m cornered. I press my back against the concrete walls soaked with filthy water, which seeps deep into my clothes.

This is the closest I’ve ever been to one. My amazing speed and quickness makes it hard for them to catch me. Tonight, I’m off though. Tonight I’m worried about Maci.

It’s as dark as death, but I can still make out the blood dripping from the monsters eyes and the gaping wounds mapping its flesh. Its fangs tremble for my neck, desperate to devour—needing to feed. I search the ground for my weapon—I need my weapon.

But it seizes me by the shoulders and digs its fleshless fingers into my arms. My skin starts to give. If it breaks, I’ll be infected. I should be afraid—I should fear for my life. But I don’t.

I kick the monster between the legs, but it doesn’t faze. Maybe it’s not male? Male or not, I’ve pissed it off. It tips its head back and growls. Then its other arm springs forward and it clutches my throat. Blood pours from its eyes like rain from the sky. I ram my elbow into its chest, hard. But it barely budges. It’s a strong one.

They all are.

And humans are weak.

It dips its nose toward my neck and takes a deep whiff, like I’m a top grade sirloin steak. I whack it in the chest and kick it in the shin, refusing to give up. Finally, it loses balance and stumbles backwards. Not missing a beat, I skitter around it and swerve around the other one. Then I run.

But I fall after a few steps, my nose cracking against the concrete. I roll over and the monster hovers above me. The more blood that drips from its eyes, the hungrier it is. And this one’s eyes are pouring water like a rainstorm. It assesses me, death staring me in the eyes. Yet am I not afraid. I should be terrified, but I never am.

The monster’s lips part.  “No!” It cries.

My blood freezes. I’ve never heard one speak. I didn’t think they could speak.

It turns from me and wanders back down the tunnel, the other one following closely behind.

I stay on the ground, my jaw slack with shock. Because vampires never EVER leave humans alive.

Chapter 2

After the vampires vanish, I sprint down the tunnel as fast as my legs will carry me and don’t slow down until I reach the river. The Highers built the river around The Colony, and constantly dump sodium chloride into it, which is just a fancy word for salt. The salt causes excruciating pain when it mixes into the wounds on vampires’ skin. It’s the one thing that keeps them away, the one thing that protects us from being overtaken with the blood thirsty disease.

I jump into the water and swim until I grow tired. Then I let the soft flow of the water carry me to the end of the river. I drag myself onto the cement platform. I’m tired and soaked, but the glass vial is still in my pocket and that’s all that matters.

“Open up,” I call out, spitting out water. “Please.”

The steel door swings open, and smacks loudly against the wall. Tristan steps out, hands in pockets, a shocked look on his face. “What happened to you?”

I push to my feet and ring the water out of my long, black hair. “Why are you guarding the door? I thought Bernard was on duty tonight?”

“He had some sort of meeting with the Highers …” His blue eyes skim me from head-to-toe and then his mouth sinks into a troubled frown. “I’m guessing everything didn’t go smoothly.”

I nod and step past him, ducking below the doorway. “The hospital we always get the medicine from was a mess … it looked like the vampires trashed it for some reason,” I say, which sounds strange because vampires usually won’t go near hospitals, but that’s what Monarch told me to say if anyone asked. And Tristan won’t question my lie. He is a strict rule follower and asking questions about things that might seem suspicious would make him a rule breaker.

“Anyway, it took me longer to find the medicine,” I tell him.

“You say it like it’s no big deal.” He shakes his head with disapproval.

I pat my pocket. “I got the vial so that’s all that really matters, right?”

He doesn’t say anything, but it looks like he wants to. He shuts the door and it takes him a minute to latch the multiple padlocks and chains and lock out the Old World. When he’s finished, he turns to me and touches his finger to my bottom lip. He traces across it, up my cheek, tucking a strand of my wet hair behind my ear.

My friend Nina told me that when Tristan touches me like this, it should send shivers across my body. I am shivering, but I’m pretty sure it’s from the cold water drenching my clothes and hair.

“What’s with the worry frown?” he asks, letting his hand fall by his side. “Did something else happen?”

“No, not really.” I shrug and wrap my arms around me as he unlocks the last steel door, “I’m just a little shaken up. That’s all.”

The door clicks open and he steps aside, letting me walk in. “Over what?”

“The vampires .” I say. “It’s not a big deal or anything, but one of them caught me.”

He drops the keys, and they clank against the floor. “Dang it.” He swipes up the keys and blinks at me. “How can you say that so calmly? I mean, they caught you. How are you even …” He lets out a breath, not finishing.

“It really isn’t that big of a deal,” I lie. “And I managed to knock it down and get away, so let’s not blow it out of proportion.”

“I don’t think you should go out by yourself anymore,” he says firmly

Tell that to Monarch. “I’m not a helpless girl,” I say with a hint of humor. “I mean, I did manage to get away all by my little old self.”

“Yeah, I guess.” He eyes me over. “Something else happened, though ... I can tell.”

I run my fingers through my wet, tangled black hair. “What’d you mean?”

“I can see it in your eyes ...”He presses his lips together, eyeing me carefully with his blue eyes. “Something else is bugging you.”

I could tell him—spill out all the details that happened.

Tristan locks up the last of the doors and then we head through the entryway, which is lit up with flickering lights that struggle to stay powered on. The brick walls and low arch ceiling have worn away with time. The cobblestone floor has water rivering the cracks and the damp air clings to my clothes.

There are two Watchers standing nearby, keeping all of us in order. They wear masks over the faces, so no one knows for sure what they look like underneath. I picture them a lot like the vampires, which is probably not accurate, but seems fitting. I’ve seen many Watchers hurt and even kill members of The Colony. The only difference is they do it to keep order and structure to our society, not to feed or infect.

“I’ll tell you later, okay.” Another lie for Tristan. I pluck a piece of dirt from his cropped blonde hair. “I need to get this vial to Monarch.”

“Alright, Juniper, but I’m going to hold you to it.” He flashes me a smile, trying to lighten my mood.

It almost hurts, but I manage to force one back and hurry to the hospital wing.

Juniper isn’t my first name. Kayla is. I don’t have a last name. A few weeks after the outbreak, Monarch found me wandering the streets. I was four and too young—or too traumatized—to remember anything, including my name. Monarch took the courtesy of giving me the name Kayla and decided to add the middle name of Juniper, after his ex-wife, because he says I reminded him of her. I’m not sure if this is a compliment or not. And I don’t know why Tristan insists on calling me it or where he even learned if form. Regardless, I don’t like it. There’s something about it coming from his mouth that feels wrong. I don’t want to bring it up to him though, because I don’t want to cause problems.

Monarch’s standing in the doorway of the hospital wing when I arrive. He’s staring at his pocket watch as if it holds the cure to the vampire disease. He’s the doctor of The Colony and a true medical genius. He can cure the sick, heal the weak, and sometimes even revive the dead.

“Oh, thank God.” Monarch says when he catches sight of me. He’s in his mid-fifties and is one of the older members of The Colony. His hair is the color of smoke and the corners of his eyes sprout crows-feet.  His white coat is smudged with blood and the red marks on the sides of his crooked nose means he’s been pressing his fingers there, something he does when he’s stressed. “I was starting to get worried.”

“You’re always worried.” I hand him the vial, my fingers briefly brushing his, and I catch a sense of something he fears, something small and lying in the hospital bed.

With a simple touch, I can sense things they’re afraid of. Monarch fears for Maci’s life—he fears she’ll die and will no longer be able to fulfill her life’s purpose. He also fears I’ll tell someone he sent me out so close to dark.

“How’s she doing?” I lean to the side and peer into the hospital room. Maci’s lying in one of the beds. Her eyes are shut, and her tiny body is curled in a ball. Tubes cover her skin, pumping blood into her. There’s a monitor beside the bed, beeping with every breath she inhales. She’s sick. Not with the vampire virus, but with something else. Monarch was running low on medicine and since I’m a Bellator, it’s my job to go out and retrieve things. Anything The Colony needs the Bellators get. Like medicine

“Are you okay?” Monarch’s grey-streaked eyebrows dip underneath his oval-rimmed glasses. “You didn’t run into any problems tonight, did you?”

I shake my head. Maybe I’ll tell him later, after he’s given Maci the medicine and is less stressed. But I’m only lying to myself if I think I will. I never do.

“So no run-ins with any vampires?” His dark grey eyes focus on me. There’s something about the way he stares that makes me question if he knows I’m different.

“Nope. No run-ins with vampires,” I lie effortlessly, making me wonder how awkward the truth would sound coming out of my mouth.

***

After I dropped the vial off, Monarch shoos me away and tells me to go change and return to the hospital for my shot. Getting a shot is part of my daily schedule. There’s something about my blood, Monarch tells me, that needs a daily injection or else I’ll die. I obey Monarch because he’s like a father to me.

I ignore The Colony members hurrying through the hall. Lost in my thoughts as I head to my room, the vampire’s cry keeps replaying in my mind. I’ve never seen one release a human. On a few occasions someone gets bit, but manages to escape. But an escape never lasts long. Within a day after a bite, their flesh starts to rot, teeth sharpen, and eyes and mind sink into a fit of rage.

I turn over my arms, staring at the blue veins winding underneath my skin. Why didn’t it bite me?  Better yet, why was I not afraid?  I’d always thought, when I faced my death, I’d finally feel fear.  But even then I’m numb. In a colony filled with fear, it’s hard to not think I’m faulty. There’s always so much looming in the air, mostly instilled by the Highers. They make people skittish. I try to play the part, play the fearful Colony member, but I get the feeling the Highers are catching on to me, which is bad. Fear is important to the Highers, otherwise how would they maintain their order and control?

Then, as if I’m cursed, I cross paths with one of them: A Higher.  He’s dragging a boy named Bernard, who’s a Bellator and was supposed to be on Guard at the doors tonight. He’s fifteen, two years younger than me, but much larger in size. His moppy brown hair curls over his brown eyes and he always wears this chain around his neck. He told me once that the on the metal plate, attached to the chain, his name is engraved.  But I called his bluff because reading, and knowing how to read, is prohibited in The Colony.

The Colony members flee to the side, bowing their heads, fear lashing off them, poisonous and potent. Following the rules, I step to the wall and bow my head, showing my respect to the Higher. But deep down, all I want to do is kick him in the shin.

My gaze stays on his white shoes as he walks by me. When I think he’s gone, I tip my head back up. Then I wish I could run.

All the Highers look the same, dressed in white, with identical white hair that flows to their shoulders like feathers. Their snow-white skin carves their flawless features and their pale eyes are haunting in a way that can make hearts skip  beats. This Higher’s gaze is on me and he’s looking at me as if he’s trying to burn inside my head and read my thoughts. I know I should bow my head back down and stare at the floor. Perhaps it would salvage this horrible situation of looking at him without permission. But I can’t seem to look away.

His eyes warn me that I should be afraid, but I’m not. A little worried, perhaps. But afraid? No.

Bernard face, glossed with tears, begs me to help him. And I want to. Desperately. Because whatever is waiting for Bernard isn’t good. People that get dragged away by a Higher are rarely seen again.

“Tell me,” the Higher says, in a thick voice. “What’s your name?”

My first instinct is to lie. But lying would reveal my flaws. And Highers hate flaws.

“Kayla.” My voice smoothes out like honey. Thank God.

His expression is impeccably unreadable. “And you’re a Bellator.”

I nod, even though it’s not a question. “I am.”

He presses his lips together and his gaze glides down the hall, at the line of people hovered against the brick wall, bowing their heads.

“Sunt cu ochii pe tine” Then he whisks his white robe across the floor, turning and descending down the hall, towing a helpless Bernard with him. I stand as still as a statue, knowing that somehow this is going to come back and bite me in the ass.

After the Higher has disappeared into the hospital, everyone scatters like rats, giving panicked glances in my direction. Discounting them, I start for my room. Nina catches up with me, a spring in her walk, as she loops her arm through mine.

“What was that all about?” She whispers, her brown eyes wide.

I shrug. “I have no idea.”

She swings around in front of me, her brown curls bouncing around her face. “Kayla, a Higher just spoke to you and you act like it’s no big deal.”

Nina’s nice enough, but she worries more than I’m comfortable with and being around her for long periods of time nearly kills me.

“It’s okay,” I lie. “He just wanted to know if Monarch was in the hospital.”

“Still, Kayla. He spoke to you, like actual words. That can’t be good.”

She’s right and I know it. But I can’t seem to work up any sort of fear about it.

“I’ll be okay.” I walk around her, calling over my shoulder. “I’ll meet you in the cafeteria later, okay.” Then I leave her and her worries far, far behind.

I can only remember one thing about the day I was chosen to be a Bellator. I was relieved. Most aren’t. No one wants to go out into the Old World, full of bloodthirsty vampires. They’d rather stay an Adepti, which is everyone else besides the Watchers, Highers, and Bellators. They are the average ones, the ones that don’t stand out, don’t have to risk their lives. And they prefer it that way. They prefer the Highers rules, no matter how harsh they are, if it means living in the security of The Colony. And since the Highers built The Colony, they are the ones who have the power to make rules and enforce punishment against behavior they don’t see fit.

Like for instance, looking at one straight in the eye.

A cloud menaces over me as I get changed and return to the hospital. I’m all clean and sparkly and no longer smell of dirt, blood, and river water. My black hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail and I’m dressed in the standard colony uniform: black jeans and a black t-shirt.

When I arrive, Monarch is injecting a shot into Maci’s IV. Her eyes are open now, her red hair a tangled halo above her head, beads of sweat dripping down her pallor skin. Maci’s a Bellator too, but a newer one, and one of the youngest, rounding in at the very young age of seven. I blame myself for her being in here, although Monarch insists it had nothing to do with me.

Still, I was the one asked to watch out for her and ten minutes into her first session, she blacked out and smacked her head on the floor. I should have been watching her more carefully. The first session as a Bellator is the hardest because it exerts the body more than we’re used to.

“Hi, Kayla” Maci says in a frail voice.

I pat her gently on the head, feeling a small connection with the kid because we’re both orphans. “How are you feeling?”

She gives a small smile. “Better. Maybe I can even go back to my room soon and get back to my training.”

I smile back, reassuringly, but I secretly feel sorry for her. The poor kid looks like death, and I don’t think returning to her room, or to her Bellator training, is in her near future.

Monarch feeds one of her tubes with a shot of black liquid. I watch it drift down the tube, disappearing into her skin. Her heart rate slows, until it’s nothing more than a soft murmur. By the time he’s finished, she sleeping again.

I hop onto a bed and roll up my sleeve for my shot. “Stab away.”

“Well that was quick trip to your room and back,” Monarch jokes, setting the needle down on the metal tray.

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