The Mercenaries Dark Desires (ICS Book Three)

Prologue

"No hope was felt for the boy. His small body stood still, bruised and broken, dark eyes staring down monsters and demons. Then he grinned, as if he were about to play a game. He laughed and laughed, a madness taking form in those dark eyes. In the end only the boy remained standing, his body soaked in blood..."  - Witness to the boy in The Pits, Nicholas Storm.

Prologue

The Mortal Realm, Midgard. Nearly a Millennia Ago.

"Stop," Nicholas' hoarse voice cracked, tears streaming down the boy's cheeks.

The vampire laughed, his blood red eyes glowing with glee. 

The evil creature held Nicholas' younger sister up before his eyes, her feet dangling limply. Her small body was broken and pale, the once smooth skin of her legs and arms covered in bite marks.

Nicholas fought to move, his legs weak and numb. His beaten and tortured body lay on the cold ground, his once thriving village smoldering ash, screams of agony ringing into the night. At dusk the Forsaken had attacked without mercy, blood crazed vampires who sought only death and chaos.

Nicholas reached up for his sister, his fingers grasping at air. "Sister."

The girl didn't stir, the vampire's claws gripping her by the collar of her torn dress. Their mother's twisted body lay several feet away, finally succumbing to death after hours of torture. Nicholas had been forced to watch while this monster fed from his mother until her life was extinguished.

Never would he forget.

The vampire shook his sister slightly. Her head lolled as her pale lips parted. "Nicholas," she whimpered.

"Don't," Nicholas begged, his fingers clawing into the dirt as he dragged himself closer. "Please."

"You beg like a dog, boy," the vampire sneered. Never breaking eye contact the vampire bared his fangs, sinking the sharp points into bruised flesh. His sisters eyes shot open, staring at her brother from across the smoldering debris. A single tear slipped down her cheek, leaving a trail in the grime coating her skin.

Her eyes were so much like his own, dark brown mirrors into the soul.

Nicholas watched in horror as the light in those beautiful orbs faded. "No," he croaked.

Tearing his fangs away the vampire chuckled darkly, tossing the dead body towards the boy. Reaching out, Nicholas clutched at her cold hand. Lifeless eyes stared back at him, her child face soft in death.

He heard the crunch of the vampire's boots as the monster approached him. Nicholas didn't look away from child before him, his heart growing cold. Never again would he run in the fields with his sister, the golden sun warming their faces. Or hear his mother's soft voice as she sang her lullabies.

They were gone. All of them. Gone.

Rage built inside him, fueling his tortured body. He ignored the pain. Ignored the grief in his heart.

The vampire knelt down, reaching for him.

With a bellow of fury Nicholas sprang to his feet, snatching the vampire's sword from its scabbard. The Forsaken gasped in surprise as Nicholas charged into him, shoving the blade into the vampire's throat.

They both fell in a heap, the vampire twitching beneath him as blood spurted from the wound in his neck. His face twisted with hatred Nicholas ripped the blade free, rising it up and slamming the sharp edge back down. He wasn't strong enough to behead the monster in one blow, the blade leaving behind a gaping wound.

The vampire clawed at his throat, his mouth falling open as blood pooled between his lips. Violently, Nicholas hacked away again and again, severing the bastard's fingers as the creature clutched at the deep gash. Blood coated the boy's face with each cut of the blade. He reveled in it, in the feel of this being's life force dripping warm down his skin. His muscles protested and burned but Nicholas didn't stop, not until the vampire's head was severed from his body.

Gasping for air the boy collapsed to his knees, the blade hanging limply in his hand. The world grew dark, his vision fading. His body gave in, tumbling backward.

He lay there for hours. Until the screams ceased and the world grew quiet. When he finally opened his eyes the vampires were gone, the light of the sun peeking over the distant mountains.

Shaking, Nicholas forced himself upward, his eyes burning as he surveyed the carnage. His world was in ruin.

He felt his heart go numb, the shattered pieces hardening into steel. Then something moved through the smoldering remains.

A vision in white.

Rubbing at his eyes Nicholas watched as a woman walked slowly through the ash and debris. Her movements were graceful, almost hypnotic, as she stepped over corpses and burning wood without fear. The sun's glow lit up the world behind her, casting eerie shadows across her features. Light blonde hair trailed behind her with each step, twisted into a thick braid. She wore a white dress, a red shawl draped over slim shoulders. The stark colors glared against the burned remains surrounding her.

She stopped suddenly, her head turning. Silver eyes of starlight focused on him.

Nicholas tightened his grip on the hilt of the sword still in his hand.

The creature approached him, her eyes seeming to bore into his soul. They were ancient, those eyes.

They frightened him.

His mother had sprung tails of silver-eyed females dressed in white. Nicholas knew who this creature was.

A mystic.

Vengeful beings near god-like in their power. They were the plague. A curse on man. Where ever a mystic tread suffering followed.

Nicholas waited, his body still as the woman neared. When she was only a few feet away he attacked, barely able to swing the heavy blade. With a slight wave of her hand he was sent to his knees, landing hard. His vision wavered as he struggled to free himself from her power.

She stood over him, her face impassive and unreadable. He couldn't deny her beauty, her heart-shaped face soft and feminine. It belied the danger of this creature. She appeared warm and inviting. The child in him wanted to run to her, to have her arms wrap around him. He knew such a feeling was foolish, like that of a mouse running into the mouth of a snake.

Still, if this creature were to end him there were worse ways to go.

"You would attack a mystic?" Her voice was quiet and lovely, draping over Nicholas like silk. She didn't sound angry with him, simply perplexed at his actions. "How foolish."

"If you're going to kill me hurry up and do it," he snarled.

She cocked her head. "Is that what you want? To die?"

"Yes." The word was almost a plea. There was nothing left for him now. He didn't want to live with these memories. With this emptiness.

Her silver eyes drifted shut as she raised her head to the rising sun. Sunbeams danced across her creamy skin, making his breath catch. "How old are you?"

He scowled, wishing she would hurry this up and end him. "Thirteen winters."

"So young," she whispered. He could sense the regret in her tone, the sadness. "You will know such pain before the end."

He already knew pain.

Clenching his jaw, Nicholas shouted, "Kill me!"

Her eyes snapped open, flickering black. "You will not die, boy." Moments before where a beautiful woman had stood was a monster. Her eyes were black as night and frightening. Darkness seemed to surround her, a strange rough wind billowing her dress and shawl.

Nicholas stared up at her, unknowing of what this creature would do to him.

The mystic leaned down close, her soft breath caressing his face. Her disembodied voice barely above a whisper she vowed, "This world and the next will turn to ash, but you will live, Nicholas Storm."