Beloved Mutt (temporarily discontinued, editing, uncompleted)

Prologue

Prologue

(Lucille)

I strutted towards the stone castle, my arms folded over my chest, my chin high.

I was nervous, and my hands were shaking without my consent. But I ignored them and continued my broad pace. My fellow suckers did not notice, thankfully. A sophisticated woman shaking like a little girl? Daniel would never forgive me. I gulped down the nausea.

Above me, the moon had almost reached the extent of itself. The shadows crawled and whined at us as we passed. The branches from the trees spookily chuckled and attempted to snatch me. As the wind let out a final eerie howl, it lugged at my hair like a leaf rake in autumn. My face felt colder than it was already. I took a nervous breath. My high heels clink-clacked on the rock path beneath me.

From the annoyed glances from my peers, I could tell it irritated them to hear the heels. I smirked.

We still had less than half a mile till we reached the actual castle, but it could be spotted from miles away from its hugeness, despite the fact that it was midnight too. Clouds littered the skies with stars scattered around, bright lights against the darkness. With my sharp, steely eyes, I could see every curve of the clouds, despite the lack of light. The moon was the huge beacon that seemed to mock the werewolves we'd just taken out. A day later, and they would've won. . . . But they didn't.

The henchmen at my sides struggled to keep up the pace with my long legs. My dark brown hair flapped like a flag. A few vampires living in the village nearby glanced wearily at us, black circles under their eyes that matched mine. I gave a few of them that I knew a nod. They blinked or returned the favor.

I couldn't really blame them for their vitriolic manner. We were not truly the talkative type. And when we spoke to one another, it was normally attack strategies. Our honcho made sure to keep us focused.

As we continued to hie, one man let out a grunt as he stumbled into me, tripping over a rock. I shoved him away, feeling his eight-pack under the tight shirt of his. He was fairly young, but twice my age, and I could see a few white hairs growing. Yes, we can grow white hair. I wondered how a forty-year-old man--fifty, maybe?--kept his muscles in tact. But, knowing our leader, it wasn't too hard.

The other henchman, for there were only two, was more around my age. He appeared a year or two younger, but his hard jaw, lean biceps and triceps, and the veins popping out on his skin showed that he was no child. That he had suffered through much. I felt an uncommon emotion in me. In fact, it was uncommon to have any emotion at all. But the emotion I felt was deep inside me, for I knew how it felt to loose your child personality young. I felt sadness.

Soon, after my heels had stopped making that disturbing sound, we stood at the front gate. I stared down at the carved gargoyle accessory as the henchmen barked orders to the person who opened the gates. Shrieking loudly and making me wince, they unbolted and opened.

My hands tightly gripping at the leather sleeves of my motorcycle jacket, I stepped through with the men. The gates immediately clicked shut behind us. As we passed through the poison ivy in the garden that imitated Persephone's Garden in Hell, the seeds winked at us. Persephone was actually a really sweet woman and our friend, despite her douche husband, Hades.

The castle faintly reminded me of my old home in Transylvania. It looked like an old background picture. With looming gray stone walls, it was a darker version of a pink princess palace. The large estate was surrounded by the thin metal gates that kept out a lot of the lunatics around her. Pretty much everyone. There were barely any windows in the castle, because we didn't need sunlight. There were two, and those two both had billowing purple-red curtains that moved like ghosts.