The Species of Power [Draft 1]

Chapter 1

Hello! Thank you for checking out this story! Just a quick heads up; I'm doing some major editing on this story which will likely involve changes to dialogue, lore, and possibly the plot in a few different ways. Sorry if there's any confusion due to this, but I hope you enjoy the read anyways! 

Hi there! Draft 2 of this book is up! Just thought I'd let you know! I recommend you read that instead of this! 

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"Get off the boy, Ruth."

"It's not like anyone can hear us-"

"Get off of him now."

For the first time that night, Ruth turned her head and looked up at Joseph. He was leaning up against the dumpster with his arms crossed, his right knee bent and his face tilted upward; his cool face was dimly lit by the flickering street light.

"I need this one Joseph," Ruth said. "He's perfect."

"No he isn't." Joseph pushed himself off the dumpster, and made his way toward Ruth.

A slight breeze pushed the long coat that he wore behind him, exposing a slight glint from the top of the long blade that he kept on his belt. Barely any light reflected off the blade, but it still caught the eye of Ruth's victim, and he was able to see what was concealed underneath the coat.

The boy began to squirm, but he wasn't going anywhere with Ruth on top of him. With every last ounce of strength that he had left, he lifted his arms, and gripped both of his hands around Ruth's wrist as hard as he could. He groaned and grinded his teeth together as he tried to pry her hand off his neck. His face was squished together with determination and pain, Ruth had nearly forgotten he was there. She tightened her grip with the hand she had on his throat, and pushed down so his head would remain firmly on the ground. She then squeezed her thighs together to keep him restrained.

His arms immediately fell from her wrist and hit the pavement. As his cold hands hit the ground, blood gushed out of his stomach, Ruth had battered him pretty badly earlier, but she didn't expect blood to explode out of his body. She was going to have to be a little bit more careful with her shadow blade. The boy's thin body was suddenly limp; his eyes were turned to the back of his head, and Ruth could no longer hear the boy breathing.

"Well," Joseph said from behind Ruth. "When I thought about you on your knees in front of me, I didn't imagine another boy between your thighs, nor did I imagine us in an alley flooded with blood."

"Oh," Ruth pushed herself up. "Because, when I imagine myself on my knees in front of you, I'm cutting off your dick with your own dagger, and it is in an alley, and it is flooded with blood, your blood."

"In order to retrieve my dagger, you'll have to find it first," Joseph said with a condescending voice that made Ruth fantasize about ripping his tongue out of his mouth, slowly, with her bare hands. "Here, I'll give you a hint: it's bellow my belt, but above my knees, you can start your search now."

She couldn't handle it. It was the second time they had failed this week and here he was, talking about (of all things) his dick. Ruth lost it.

She clenched her fist as hard as she could, and swung with incredible force. As her body rotated, her long hair followed, slicing the air around her head. Time began to slow down for Ruth; she could only feel her blood boiling, only hear her heartbeat increasing, her entire focus was on Joseph.

Murder rage, the Elders called it; a sudden desire to kill your victim with a passion that was so intense, it was nearly impossible for your body to resist the urge. Time slows down and the body is acquiring quicker reflexes. The only focus is on the prey; only blood lust remains. A demon inside takes control, and briefly all authority over their body is stolen.

Within a second Ruth's fist had nailed him in the jaw. Because the effects of the murder rage still hadn't worn off, she got to stand and watch as Joseph fell to the ground, in slow motion, she wished she could watch it on a loop for the rest of her life.

This was her favourite part of the rage; when you still had enough of the kick so time would remain slow, but at the same time you were yourself again. The moment he hit the ground time caught up with her, she laughed at Joseph as he tried to catch his breath. She wasn't sure if she thought it funnier that he was panting, or that he was now the one his knees.

"You little bitch," Joseph said, as blood dripped from his mouth.

"Actually," Ruth said as she crossed her arms. "You look like the little bitch right now, and how can you expect to handle me in bed if you can't even handle a little blow to the jaw?"

"Ruth you have gone too far," Joseph pushed himself up. "This is the third time you have raged this week, that isn't normal."

"It's completely understandable;" Ruth said, as she tried to hide the concern from her face. "I've been with you all week."

"You are not to talk to your mentor that way."

"You have to earn my respect Joseph," Ruth said. "I don't just hand it out like brochures or something!"

Joseph said nothing, Ruth would have preferred him yelling at her, but he just stared. He wasn't staring her down, and it wasn't like he had run out of things to say (the guy had sarcasm coming out of his ass, for God's sake) he just wasn't talking. Maybe he was just thinking, or concerned, Ruth thought. Well, there is a first for everything.

"I'm taking you back to The Hall." Before Ruth could react, he snatched her wrist and gripped it tightly. "You need to see the Elders." He then jerked her arm forward, and began moving quickly, while dragging her along with him.

"Why? You can't handle me yourself?" Ruth said, struggling to escape his grip.

Joseph halted, while keeping a firm grip on her wrist. Ruth couldn't help but feel a little uneasy, yes she had seen Joseph angry, but that wasn't Joseph, it came from the rage. This was new to her; this was Joseph being angry, because he felt it, not because something within him decided to lash out. Ruth would have almost preferred to take her chances with his inner demon than to see him like this.

"I am taking you back," Joseph said, he was speaking slowly and keeping his eyes forward. "Because you're not normal, do you understand that? All of these rages aren't normal; we need to check this out. Do you understand how serious this is?"

Joseph looked down, waiting for her response. Ruth knew that her multiple rages weren't normal. They started when she was six years old, everybody else started no earlier than age nine. They occurred twice a day which was far too often, for others it was once every two weeks... maybe. It became an issue when she turned twelve and had to start her training. She taught herself how to control her rages, and after ten years, she was able to rage at will.

At age seventeen, the second last year of training, Ruth and her classmates were each assigned a personal mentor. They were sent out into the world, to track down and assassinate the victims of their own selection, with their mentors by their side every step of the way.

Within the year, Ruth would become a mentor herself, or at least she was supposed to. Ruth had spent six months with Joseph, and it became a lot harder to control her rages; he pissed her off on a regular basis. She hadn't told anyone about them. She lived in constant fear of the Elders finding out, and not deeming her fit for battle, due to her uncontrollable nature.

Ruth wanted nothing more than to scream, and bite Joseph's hand so he would let go of her wrist, but that wouldn't help the 'uncontrollable rage' thing. Even if she could escape, Joseph knew, he knew she was broken. Whether she was there or not, he was going to tell them the truth. Even though she wanted to run, she knew she had to face them, and she was going to do that with dignity.

"Yes," Ruth finally said.

Then they were off, and together they went to The Hall of Learning, leaving the mangled body of the boy behind. Ruth would never admit it, but she actually liked the boy, even though his species was beneath her. She had been watching him for days, she got to know him, from afar, of course.

His name was Adam, he was fourteen. He played the guitar, and he was very good to whoever he met; that's what made him such an easy target.