Blood Awakens
Book One of
The Awakened Quartet
Jessaca Willis
Blood Awakens.
Copyright 2019 Jessaca Willis.
ISBN: 9781733992503
ASIN: B07QNSQCVV
LCCN: 2019904683
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Request,” at the address below.
Any reference to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Names, characters, and places are products of the author’s imagination.
Front cover designed by Daqri Combs. Editing by Sandra Ogle. Additional editing and formatting by Alice Lunsford.
Book published by Amazon 2019.
Jessaca Willis
PO Box 66574
Portland, OR 97266
https://www.jessacawillis.com
THE AWAKENED QUARTET
The Awakening- An Origin Story
The Discovery- An Origin Story
Blood Awakens, Book 1
Puppets Dream, Book 2
Nightmares Rise, Book 3
Death Slumbers, Book 4
To Kieran, Lily, James, Michael, Mom, and Dad.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
7
Chapter Two
16
Chapter Three
23
Chapter Four
46
Chapter Five
52
Chapter Six
58
Chapter Seven
68
Chapter Eight
97
Chapter Nine
101
Chapter Ten
126
Chapter Eleven
143
Chapter Twelve
150
Chapter Thirteen
156
Chapter Fourteen
159
Chapter Fifteen
163
Chapter Sixteen
173
Chapter Seventeen
180
Chapter Eighteen
194
Chapter Nineteen
202
Chapter Twenty
210
Chapter Twenty-One
214
Chapter Twenty-Two
239
Chapter Twenty-Three
243
Chapter Twenty-Four
248
Chapter Twenty-Five
252
Chapter Twenty-Six
260
Chapter Twenty-Seven
268
Chapter Twenty-Either
274
Chapter Twenty-Nine
282
Chapter Thirty
291
Chapter Thirty-One
305
Chapter Thirty-Two
309
Chapter Thirty-Three
317
Chapter Thirty-Four
324
Chapter Thirty-Five
332
Chapter Thirty-Six
337
Chapter Thirty-Seven
343
Chapter Thirty-Eight
350
Chapter Thirty-Nine
372
Chapter Forty
377
Chapter Forty-One
385
Chapter Forty-Two
399
Chapter Forty-Three
406
Chapter Forty-Four
416
Chapter Forty-Five
419
Chapter Forty-Six
423
Chapter Forty-Seven
429
Chapter Forty-Eight
437
Chapter Forty-Nine
461
Epilogue
465
Spanish Glossary
472
Italian Glossary
473
Acknowledgements
474
About the Author
476
Chapter One
Sean
A secret, one that could cost Sean his life, had him dodging the skittish glances of the other soon-to-be passengers on the Metro Rail platform. Their curious scrutiny was obvious, only one question burgeoning behind everyone’s eyes: who was Awakened and who wasn’t? Fortunately for Sean, there was no way they could know what he was just by looking at him.
When he found a place to settle, a calculated safe distance away from everyone else, he let his harsh gaze settle over the concrete bricks. Nostrils flaring, Sean tried calming the pounding of his heart with a deep, relaxing inhale, but the stench of everyone around him forbid it.
In turn, his heartrate accelerated. He found himself focused on the rhythm of it for a short while by accident, thump-thump, thump-thump, and that stirred more bad memories. He tried thinking of something else, anything other than his employer’s decision—former employer’s decision, he corrected—but the scene kept replaying in his mind. It felt surreal. Surely, they couldn’t just fire him because he was different. It was prejudice, the very definition of discrimination.
And yet they had, and they’d done it legally. After all, his kind weren’t protected under law.
Prejudice wasn’t new to him. Having a dark complexion meant he’d grown up being accustomed to people’s distrusting glances, to unfair treatment, and, at times, to outright hatred. But this was different. This was a new kind of prejudice, one he was still getting used to.
When the Metro pulled up, Sean started to merge with the others to board, but stopped short when he saw the advertisement on the side of the light rail. People bumped into him on their way in and out of the car as he stood motionless, reading:
The Awakened: Demons? Militarized experiments? Aliens?
Sean ignited. Outrage, terror, despair—he couldn’t tell which emotion he was feeling, the mixture so hostile that it became a volcanic soup of inner turmoil waiting for release.
It wasn’t fair. No one asked to be Awakened. At least, he hadn’t.
Even though his own Awakened power was unseen, Sean popped his hoodie up and loaded the light rail car, trying not to act different, suspicious—whatever that meant.
But inside the cramped rail car, his power seemed to amplify. Instead of the light drumming of heartbeats that he’d sensed at the platform from all of those around him, once inside, the car walls acted like a sounding board, bouncing back every individual pulse with tangible force. Sean’s nose twitched; the scent had become stronger too. The close proximity allowed him to be able to distinguish blood types, whether anyone had a virus or infection that was transmitted by blood, and that there were no other Awakened on board with him.
But it wasn’t just for his ability of noticing blood that had the media calling his type of Awakened, blood guides. It was because they could command blood. With a gentle hum, Sean could serenade the exposed blood of any injured person and it would respond, seeking its host and returning like a curative gel. For a while, he’d wondered why they weren’t being called healers instead, but past life experiences reminded him. It didn’t matter that his ability was virtuous and life-saving. Different was different, and it always had been.
As the train accelerated, Sean grabbed a nearby metal pole for stabilization. He spent the next minute eyeing everyone, wondering who could be trusted and where he should sit. It m
ade him feel like a paranoid wreck, but caution seemed to be the only reliable instinct he had these days. So much for acting normal, he thought, realizing how he must look and finally choosing a spot close to the door.
At the next stop, a middle-aged woman with a newspaper loaded, grabbing the empty seat beside him. He couldn’t help but look over her shoulder, and when he read the headline, he wished he hadn’t. It was the same every day: another Awakened murdered under the guise of self-defense.
“Serves them right,” the woman said when she noticed his gaze. Tapping the main story with the back of her hand, she nodded her head, all too confident and comfortable. “If you ask me, they should all be imprisoned or, better yet, put to death.”
Sean took a closer look at the article. The boy in the main story had only been fifteen.
For his own safety, Sean gave an agreeable nod and pretended like the train was at his stop, a good thirty blocks early.
In a lot of ways, nothing had changed. It was the same song, just with different lyrics. Now, instead of an obsession with the dangers of different racial or religious groups, every newsstand, every billboard, every conversation anyone had, revolved around the Awakening and the threat that people with powers posed. Ironically and unsurprising to Sean, in reality, the people causing the most harm right now were all the panicked and bigoted Unawakened. It would be laughable if it wasn’t so tragic.
A few steps down the street and a three-toned jingle alerted him that he had a new voicemail. He checked the name and frowned. It was a rare occasion to receive a call from his brother.
“Please don’t be bad news,” he implored before pressing play. He’d already lost his job today and he wasn’t sure how much more he could take.
“Listen, Sean. Things have…escalated.” Samson spoke through ragged breathes. Not the kind that meant physical exertion, but the short choppy inhales of panic. “The government is gonna declare war on the people, on us. Riots have already broken out in all of the major cities across the world if you can believe it.”
Sean was sorry to say that he could. People were scared, confused, and outraged. The ones with powers couldn’t figure out what was happening to them or why, and the ones without struggled with the same. He’d already seen his fair share of hate crimes directed at various Awakened individuals, mostly the ones who had an outward distinction.
“It’s…It’s not safe here,” his brother continued. “Hell, it’s not safe anywhere, but—” Samson sucked in air through his teeth. “I’m telling you; things are about to get bad. Worse than they were during the last world war.”
The chill of fear iced over him. World War III had cost humanity over a quarter of the world’s population, their father among them.
“Just meet me at your place when you clock off. We gotta leave town, tonight. I’ll take you to the base, it’s safe there. For people like us I mean. I know, I know, going to a military base before they declare war sounds whack, but I’ll explain it all later. Alright, see ya soon. Peace.”
The frantic tone of the message alone was enough to give Sean concern, let alone his brother’s intel of an impending war—no, an impending genocide. But what really quickened his pace, was Samson’s request to meet at the house. It meant his brother was in town, nearly five months ahead of schedule. Sean knew that things must be in motion if it was serious and timely enough that Samson had abandoned his station to come gather his younger brother.
Sean sprinted the rest of the way.
By the time he reached his mailbox, his stomach dropped. The front door was unhinged. Windows shattered. Graffiti covered the garage tucked beneath his house, and every other flat surface. Words like “blood demon” and “vampire”, slurs meant to alert the community of the danger living next door, were like red flashing sirens along the paneling. It was like he was staring at someone else’s home; he could hardly recognize it.
Suddenly, Sean’s spine stiffened. He could hear three heartbeats coming from inside, then the stagnant stench of iron enveloped him like a cloud. Blood. Fresh blood. But Sean’s ability examined it further, noted the subtlety of a musty leather odor specific only to the blood of a roider. Sean’s shoes screeched against the pavement as he bounded for the stairs.
Samson.
Sean burst into the house, eyes wild with a concoction of rage and desperation and fear. He was prepared to search top to bottom, but no further exploration was needed. Sean stood motionless in the living room, his brother’s disfigured corpse contorted and covered in blood on the floor. Surrounding Samson’s body were three people, a woman and two men, all heaving from the effort it took to brutally beat someone whose ability gave them enhanced strength.
To Sean, they blurred together through searing tears. “What have you done?” He whispered softly, eye twitching. As they turned to the doorway, he shouted louder, “What have you done!”
Anguish lit the fuse, but it was the sight and scent of blood that ignited him. Where he had shown restraint with his boss, here there was none. Sean lost all sense of control. In that moment, he was not the master; the blood was.
It called him to action, and he let it take over.
A rumbling hum escaped Sean’s throat. Each of their heartbeats became louder as he honed-in on their sources of life. His mind zipped through every drop of their blood, attaching to it, claiming it.
By the time anyone realized what he was doing, it was too late. By now their veins were beginning to bulge. The woman whimpered. As she reached for her face, her fingers smeared into her own warm blood oozing from her nostrils, eyes, and mouth.
This side of his power, Sean had never seen, but it came to him instinctively. A primal need. An entranced state of bloodlust. He let the call in his throat continue, only becoming more ravenous the more blood that seeped from their murderous bodies.
One of the men managed to croak, “You’re the one…we came for you.”
Sean didn’t respond. Later, that thought would tear into him like shrapnel, but in this moment, it was nothing more than ashes floating from a fire: weightless. The ceremony had already begun, and he was no longer himself, no longer tethered by morals and reason.
In an almost inaudible tune, he continued his song to the blood, and she obeyed, constricting and coagulating inside their helpless bodies.
“Why stop now?” The seductive nature of his power beckoned, filling every crevice of his mind. It was the invisible bond between him and the people before him.
The question she posed was one he didn’t have an answer to. These people didn’t deserve to live. That was as much the blood’s choice as it was Sean’s.
The rolling sonnet in his lungs burst with a blood-curdling screech. By his command, the blood of the woman and one of the men ruptured from beneath their skin in a fleshy tidal wave. The blast coated everything in the small living space in thick red gore.
Blood soaked into Sean’s clothes and streamed down his neck, but he hardly noticed. All he could focus on was the sound of the remaining beating heart.
The last man sputtered, a sneer pulling relentlessly at his lips. “You can kill me…but it won’t bring him back,” he spat with conviction, a frothy pink splatter coating the carpet. “And you’ll be next. We won’t let your kind win.”
Whatever he was saying didn’t matter though, because Sean could barely hear him. The song of the man’s thrumming heartbeat drew him in. He not only heard it, but could feel every drop of blood as it coursed beneath the man’s flesh. Sean tightened his control just to feel the drumming race louder. He inhaled a breath, the ecstasy of it shivering down his spine. Nothing else mattered anymore. All he needed was this man’s blood.
“Finish him,” the enchantress hissed. “Let his blood run free.”
The unseen but palpable tether between them tugged, begging him to complete the ritual he’d started.
There was no doubt that he wanted to oblige, wanted to liberate it, to allow the ruby essence to flow to its rightful place. To him.
> When Sean cracked his neck preparing for the kill, he inadvertently caught his reflection in the mirror above the couch. At first, he thought there was someone else in the room with him, a creature of nightmares. But on a double-take, through eyes black as ink, he saw the reality. There was no creature, there was no it. It was him. Drenched in pulp, Sean was covered in viscera like a monster creeping up from a lagoon. The smell of death wafted across his blood-stained face and like a flash of lightning he saw the people he’d murdered erupting all over again. It had all come from him, from his newfound power.
There was no manual for this stuff, for being Awakened. Everyone was still figuring it out, even Sean who, up until this moment, only knew he could heal people. He should’ve known. Where’s there’s life, death follows.
Sean’s body unclenched. On the next blink, his eyes shifted back from pure black to their usual white and brown balance. The pull of the bloodlust tried to regain its hold again, but feral need no longer fueled his entirety. Haunted by his reflection, by his actions, Sean severed the bond between him and the man at his feet, one last fatal pump of energy. Hardly a noise escaped his victim as his heart imploded inside his chest.
Sean had never used so much power before. It left him hobbled, fatigued, and he crumpled beside the bodies with a shudder. He could barely keep his eyes open, but didn’t dare close them either, or else risk being reminded of what he really was. An Awakened. A blood guide.