The Venators

Chapter 0-Prologue

Blood.

Dripping, oozing, crimson blood. Everywhere. Splattered on the walls like some kind of sick art. The first memory of the crying child stained red. Her vision soaked in the blood of those who only had the chance to love her for a little while. Not long enough for it to make a difference.

A few whisps of pure white hair graced the child's head, even at such a tender age. Grey eyes that were still soft with a baby's innocence met amber ones, wise and hardened with age. The girl did not know what was going on. She did not understand that those who were her parents were lying on the ground, that the woman with the bloody knife had murdered them.

So innocent. So young. Still impressionable.

The woman looked down at the child. There was a Code for these things. If it was a boy, death. If it was a girl she was to become a Recruit. The woman's pale, cold hands picked up the girl. The child whimpered at the touch. A moment later and both were gone, lost in the surrounding maze of buildings.

She will be strong, but gentle. I will teach her.

---------------------Eight Years Later--------------------

The setting for this gruesome scene was much different. A forest, wild and only barely held back by the fence surrounding the clearing. Nothing like the peaceful village that had been visited by tragedy eight years before. Even the targets were different this time. But the horror of the scene, the sickening cruelty, and the blood. Those were the same. They were the same everywhere.

Two men's bodies, one older and greying, the other young and strong. They were splayed on the ground, impromptu weapons gripped in their hands. There were two matching stab wounds in their chests. Near the door to the little cottage was a woman's body, still clutching the corpse of a baby boy. The wound in the child's chest mirrored the one in the woman's. A bloody scene of cruelty and mayhem crowded the small clearing the family had once lived in. Now it was no longer a home, but a last stand. The place of a great battle, the outcome of which would determine the fate of the world.

Green eyes, the color of fresh mint leaves. He had black hair framing his face like a curtain and exaggerating his pale, bloodless features. Other then that he let no fear show. Firm, determined, immovable. He stared at certain death with a defiant glare in his eyes.

Her eyes were the color of autumn. Rich chocolate hair falling down her back; a perfect wave that reached her waist. Her face was also pale, but for a different reason. The woman's cherry lips curved into a mocking smile as she approached the boy. The only thing that marred the woman's beauty was the blood spattered knife still in her hands.

Such a brave boy. You don't see many these days, especially this young.

The two gazed at each other, locked in a dangerous staring contest. The boy fought to keep his lip from trembling. The woman debated in her mind. Both unaware of the other's thoughts of mercy.

Perhaps I should leave him alive. He's so strong, we could use him later.

Just kill me now. You killed them. Have mercy and kill me too!

Slowly the mockery faded from the woman's expression. The hard cruelty in her eyes softened to something like guilt and she looked away from the child in front of her. Instead she directed her eyes at the bodies strewn about, the blood already seeping into the ground, and then the forest around them. The only witness to this crime besides the boy.

There was a Code about these things. Rules. Boys were to die. They had been found to be more volatile then girls, less willing to accept the lifestyle they would have to grow up with. Too easy to turn, too easy for them to go wild and lose control. Girls became Recruits if they were young enough. Boys were killed. And yet...

The woman relaxed her stance, her grip on the knife going slack. A single drop of blood rolled down the blade and joined its brethren on the slick forest floor. She took a step back, and the unwelcome mercy twisted the determination on the boy's face and turned it to pure rage. Just as he started forward, however, intent on finishing what the woman had started, she turned and disappeared into the woods. He slowed to a halt after only a few steps and glared into the trees. No one could catch a Venator when they did not want to be caught.

It was hours before they found the scene. Usually the father of the little family wandered into town with his cart of wood, prepared to sell at a rather cheap price. When the normal time came and went, people began to whisper. Sometimes he would bring his family and the five would have a day in the village. They'd become rather well liked, despite being an oddity. Living in the forest was not normal. It wasn't safe, and the Venators were harsh landlords. Always demanding more money for the privelage of living on government owned land.

Finally, a baker in the village who had become a friend of the family's decided to go into the forest. No one else dared to go with him, too terrified of the fierce women they imagined behind every tree and bush. However, the baker ignored the whisperings and braved the forest. He had often received directions from the father, along with an invitation to come visit. Before this day, however, he had never taken the father up on his offer. When he did reach the clearing, he regretted that fact.

The scene that greeted the baker was an awful one. The middle son kneeling next to his mother's body, tears dripping from his eyes as he stared down at his baby brother. The tiny child had barely had a chance at life before it was stolen from him. The baker approached him and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder and he looked up at the older man, eyes wide with pain and confusion. When he spoke, his voice was broken and that of a child who didn't yet understand the cruelty of the world.

"Why?"