Mikhail (Immortal Duology Book 1) Read online

  Copyright © 2020 Nash Lantey

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  ISBN-13: 9781234567890

  ISBN-10: 1477123456

  Cover design by: Art Painter

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309

  Printed in the United States of America

  For mum, joel & nathan

  Prologue

  Over six million years ago, just as the world was being created, the gods decided to give mankind ultimate control over the Earth and all that lived on it. Making a promise not to disrupt the soil on which they walked, until the end of time.

  Manking reproduced and gave rise to generations of offspring, some whose beauy's caught the heavenly angels attention. Out of lust and longing, the angels escaped heaven and mated with humans, reproducing a stronger, deadlier generation known as the Nephilim.

  The Nephilim were a fierce species to be reckoned with. Warrior that wrecked havoc, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake. They killed with neither mercy nor pity and lavished in the agony of mortals.

  Such actions brought the gods grief, anger.

  While upholding their promise to the mortals, the gods gave rise to seven brothers of the same species that would end the Nephilim's reign.

  In order to assure that the brothers would not forfeit their purpose on the planet, the gods restricted their abilities and ensured they had weaknesses; soulmates linked to one another.

  The seven Alphas lived in solitude, brothers by blood and moon. As centuries passed, the population grew exponentially and all seven alphas were forced to sit and discuss expanding into the human territories. Six of the Alphas agreed to clear off the humans and placed them beneath their servitude while one Alpha refused to align with his brothers ideologies.

  Division was brought among them and eventually war. The seventh Alpha accepted defeat as many unecessary lives had been lost.

  In order to assure themselves he would never rebel, the brothers put the seventh to sleep- a blade dipped in ancient ichor, Angels blood, and buried him in Mount Zion.

  The story of Seven Alphas was passed on from generation to generation until it altered to six and his presence faded to nothing.

  For the seventh Alpha, became the forgotten Alpha.

  ACT 1

  My name will be known

  A promise, a dare

  Your name will be known

  A promise, a prayer

  1

  The night was dark beyond darkness, empty streets stood sorrowfully, wind whistling low and mournful between alleys as everything was still and quiet. Dull yellow light that spilled through half cracked windows, the only sign of life.

  Had it not been for the full moon, Maeve would have struggled to sweep the perimeter before her. The absence of wind stilled her scent such that wolves nearby would not catch it, hidden from plain sight in black clothes.

  Maeve peered to her right watching as the human camp gate slid shut. The last of the enslaved humans trudged from the mines pushing wheelbarrows filled with coal to the brim. Despite the distance, she could hear the distinct clanging of metallic shackles moving with each lumbered step.

  A brown wolf followed close behind with two other men, each bound thick leather whips, sleek with blood. They conversed in the mucky darkness, occasionally breaking to laugh.

  One of the humans, perhaps out of extreme fatigue, malnourishment, or dehydration, swayed to the side slightly before righting himself a moment too late as the wheelbarrow collapsed spilling all the coal contents. There was a long moment when nothing happened.

  Her throat constricted knowing fully well what was to happen. Her gaze slid away just as the moonlight reflected on the raised whip that curled in the air before landing on the man's back. The sound was quick and thin, slicing through the air like a sharpened knife.

  The whipping lasted for five minutes straight.

  The man did not cry out, he simply knelt, writhing with each slash that shredded the material of his jumpsuit then skin, drawing rivulets of blood.

  Maeve averted her gaze back to the line of humans just as one of them was forced to help carry his unconscious friend back to the barracks. The rest shoveled the coal into the wheelbarrow making no noise.

  Once they disappeared behind the barracks, Maeve held up a piece of broken mirror and angled it beneath the moonlight, slivers of white reflected on the ground.

  Three shadows flitted across the streets ducking beneath one of the buildings. A man glanced up at her and raised a hand before waving her over. With a small nod, Maeve slung her bow and arrow over her back before gripping the edge of the roof and carefully hauling her body over.

  Landing on the ledge of the water tower's security walkway, she crouched and crawled towards the ladder and clambered down. Maeve ducked beneath shattered windows of abandoned buildings, maneuvering between empty alleys filled with trash cans and cats scurrying hither, fish bones clasped between yellowed teeth.

  Peering through an alley, she righted herself before walking into it, eyes dead set on the building that stood before her.

  Silver Pack

  It was a simple store. Glancing up and down the street one last time, Maeve paused at the end of the alley waiting as the three members did their part.

  The plan was simple really, enter from the back and neutralize the cashier with wolfsbane.

  Seconds turned to minutes as silence ticked on and nothing odd seemed to be happening within the store. Maeve exhaled a cloud of mist and noiselessly tapped her foot, fighting back whatever anxiety and doubt was bubbling to the surface. "Now isn't the time to doubt them," She murmured, trying to keep her mind at bay. The front door swung open and Trisha stood pressing two fingers to her lips and whistling into the night air.

  Maeve exhaled in relief at the signal and crossed the road hurriedly, jumping into the store firmly shutting the door behind her.

  The first thing she spotted was a boy who looked to be in his early twenties, lying on the ground passed out as Nicholas knelt above him, one knee pressed on his spine.

  Her eyes wandered to the shelves filled with condiments.

  "Here," something nudged her hip. Trisha was holding out an empty backpack for her with an excited smile.

  "Trish, get medicines. Maeve will be on dried food." Nicholas paused glaring at Darius who was ripping through a packet of dried bread.

  Nodding, they broke apart and began clearing the shelves picking and dropping items into their backpacks. When they filled up, they brought out other foldable backpacks and continued the job. Maeve neatly stacked fruit, beans, and peas into her backpack.

  "Hey Mae," Trisha called, moving over to her aisle. She held out an open packet of dried raisins.

  Thirty minutes later, Maeve and Trisha were sitting on the floor close enough for their shoulders to brush, satiated.

  "Okay-" she huffed, rubbing her belly satisfied, "I think I'm done for today with the sugar." She helped Trisha up and they walked different ways to resume their businesses.

  They worked in silence, brushing past each other occasionally to share what they got so far.

  It was illegal and prohibited to leave the fortress at night and wander into the wolf’s territory, but with everything happening in the fortress, Maeve could not help but sigh in relief each time her roommates planned a raid.

  "Maeve." She glanced up at Darius who was leaning on the window sipping a bottle of water. He pointed at a rack filled with cigarettes, "Pick for me some, would you?"

  "'kay," she hummed, picking five packets and an extra one for herself before tucking them into her back pocket. Turning away from the rack while zipping up her backpack, she froze staring at unfamiliar golden eyes. The man was wide awake and oddly calm as he lay on the floor, subdued.

  Maeve stared, wondering how long he had been awake and why he had not tried to break free.

  The spell was broken as Nicholas appeared behind the boy and hauled him up to his feet. Now that he stood, he was just as tall as Nicholas. If the drug had completely worn off, Nicholas would be no match for him, luckily enough the boy staggered slightly on his feet grunting as Nicholas shoved him forward and onto the middle of the street.

  Gathering their backpacks, they followed suit, eyes glancing up and down the street warily.

  "Wait- what are you doing Nick?" Maeve breathed watching as he guided the boy through the alleys directly heading to the tethered horse.

  Nicholas simply shrugged absent-minded, "What does it look like?"

  "It looks like you’re taking him back to the camping grounds."

  "Yeah, so?"

  "They'll track him to us!"

  Nicholas turned to her with an exasperated sigh, "Look Maeve, can we argue about this at the camp?"

  "No. We cannot. We cannot bring him back to the camp, just knock him out and leave him behind."

  "There's no point, he already saw our faces, he can ID us just as fast."

  "And you think the wolves won't be able to track his scent back at the camp?" She witted angrily but Nicholas remained calm reaching for the reigns again. She relented, all
the while the boy stood curiously watching the argument with a look of boredom.

  "Do not forget who the leader is Whitmore." He growled at her just as she pursed her lips smothering the rebelliousness that bubbled in her stomach. "Understood?"

  Her gaze slid to the boy leaning on the door, still tired from the drugs though his eyes were bright and alert curious as to her response. Begrudgingly, she sighed turning away from him.

  "Understood."

  2

  Maeve plucked at her thumb nail while listening to Nicholas arguing his case with one of the chancellors. Of course, their absence had been noticed the moment they left. It was foolish of them to assume no one would notice the dark windows and their names missing during the night shift register calling.

  How would they be able to explain that to the council members?

  "Relax, would you?" Trisha piped up from the couch she lounged on, a tattered book held in both hands, "Nicholas will handle it."

  Maeve turned her head back to the window squinting at the two figures exchanging words heatedly. Nicholas's hands were moving wildly as his lips spoke rapidly, cold mist rising as the councilor silently breathed, listening to him. After a few minutes, the counselor said something that seemed to shut down Nicholas.

  "Doesn't look like it." Maeve chewed her rugged nail anxiously. If everything did not go according to plan, then they would be punished and pulled out of the huntsman program. The program which took her ten good years of toiling, sweat, blood and tears to get into.

  Suddenly, she regretted ever going out for the snack expedition.

  Trisha glanced up at her from the book with a sigh. "Trust me, he has it under control." Sitting up, she patted at the empty space on the couch, "relax.”

  Maeve stared at her friend incredulously. "Seriously Trish, how can you be so calm when our careers are on the stake?"

  "What else can we do?" Trisha shot back eyes narrowing slightly, "Look, Nicholas is out there arguing our case, the only thing we can do is sit and wait."

  Her gaze never wavered from Trisha as she searched for the right comeback but ended up with nothing. "Fuck." Maeve deflated as she paced back and forth in their dorm, mind amok with possible endings.

  Maybe the council would let them out with a warning.

  Everyone's eyes snapped to Nicholas as he walked into the dorm haggard, hair sticking up in all places from constant tugging and pulling. He peeled off his jacket and hung it on a rack before falling on a single couch, sinking low, while rubbing at his temples.

  Darius, walked in after tossing it over the ledge. The scent of nicotine and tar sticking to him like a shadow. He broke the tense silence, leaning on a wall while arching a pierced eyebrow at him, "Well?"

  "What did the council say?" Trisha perked.

  Nicholas ran a frustrated hand over his face, fingers dragging on skin. "They aren't pleased that we left the fortress without their permission." Everyone held their breaths, quiet enough to hear the soft dripping of water from the bathroom in the next room, "Therefore, we have been pulled out of the Huntsman program-"

  "WHAT THE-" Trisha jumped up from her position, shock glazed over her features.

  Beside her, Darius cussed under his breath in Spanish before running a hand through his cropped curls. Maeve was frozen on the spot, her eyes following Nicholas's expression waiting for more; “But?" She whispered.

  "But-" He spoke, gaze locked with hers. "It will only be for two weeks and during that each of us will be on chamber duties."

  The breath she released was pained as her shoulders slumped forward. Stomach awash with nerves and relief.

  Darius frowned. "I'd rather be kicked out of the program. No way in hell am I going to wipe people's shit and piss from the toilets." Trisha, having forgotten her previous outburst, seconded with him.

  Nicholas did not seem bothered in the least, he waved at them dismissively. "Be my guest, I'm sure they'll be glad to kick you out of the shelter and into the streets without blinking twice. Less money spent on sheltering and catering to every basic need of yours." When no one replied, he sat straighter, "Listen guys, the only reason we were spared was because we brought a werewolf back to the fortress. They can finally get whatever information they can from him-"

  "But he looks around our age," Maeve interrupted, "What can he know?"

  "Don't let their appearances fool you Whitmore, he's old, a century or so." The way he spoke towards her, like a parent annoyed at their child for not remembering a lesson, sparked warm anger in her stomach. "You of all people should know that." Without another word, he stood and beelined for the bedroom.

  "Dinner will be in a few minutes, everyone should be ready by then."

  When he had exited the room, she turned to Darius. "Where do you think they're keeping him?" Darius simply shrugged playing with his dagger back to the usual chill mood.

  "I hope you aren't thinking of going to visit him." Trisha piped up, gathering the crumpled pieces of wrappers from the floor.

  "I'm not." - Maeve shook her head heading to her room as well.

  Glancing over her shoulder for the sixth time in the past ten minutes, Maeve pulled open the chamber doors before quietly slipping in shutting the door firmly behind her. The hallway was empty as per usual, flame filled torches hanging on both sides of the wall lighting up the path that led to the descending stairs... To the room where he was kept.

  A night had barely passed when the council agreed to set his trial at midnight on public square,

  It was not her first time seeing a werewolf, but it would be the first she ever got up close to.

  Picking a lamp, she walked down the empty hallway pausing at the end and slipping behind a wall just as two guards strode out of the door, bloody tools in hand, conversing in mild awe over his unrelenting nature.

  "He will talk during the ceremony." One of them said.

  Holding her breath, she waited as they disappeared around the corner. Once the door slid open, Maeve entered shutting it behind her and held the lamp out into the darkness as an offering.

  The air grew stale and rusty, the concentrated smell of wolfsbane. Something the guards would burn and pass through the air vents to immobilize the wolves.

  Perspiration surfaced on her upper lip and bridge of nose and Maeve peered through the mist, feet carefully treading. The steam parted as a figure surfaced. At the sight of him, her feet stilled.

  He was stripped bare, save for the pants still worn. Thin lash marks tainted on bruised battered skin, thick silver chains weighed his ankles and wrists, spreading him out on the wall. His head slumped forward, blood matted curls sticking, was tilted forehead.

  Maeve’s eyes trailed the guttural marks on his body.

  "Are you here to torture me again?" The pained voice held mild confidence.

  The man raised his head, perhaps expecting to see a guard, and faltered as his eyes squinted from blood that dripped. "You." He breathed.

  "Me." Maeve echoed taking a cautious step forward.

  He tilted his head to the side, and she mimicked his action like a mirror, studying one another, "Curious one, are you not?"

  She bristled under the nickname but never faltered, circling him like a predator would prey, taking in the bruises and cut flesh that looked raw and painful. "Why aren't you healing?" She paused behind his back relishing at the sight of his muscles tensing.

  Good, at least he was afraid even if it meant little.

  "To think you knew." The man mumbled with a shake of his head, "the poison weakens my flesh, I cannot mend my wounds."

  She continued circling him curiously whilst fighting the urge to reach out and trace her fingers over his firm flesh, feel the wolf inside. "They're going to kill you, you know." Maeve whispered softly.

  His golden gaze met hers and for the first time, she did not see fear but relief in his eyes. Who felt relief at the thought of being killed?