Drake (Book 1)

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[61]-That has made me sad


12:00 a.m.

Ella yelped as Sullivan hurled a lantern across the tent, shattering it and emptying its oils across the sands. He continued shouting and tossing everything within his reach. She shielded herself with her arms, bracing for whatever might be flung her way. He twisted his golden curls and used his ghoulish claws to tear holes into the tent. Grains of sand splashed her face as the cold desert winds intruded, sending a shiver down her spine.

Sullivan’s gaze found hers, and he formed a wicked grin. He assaulted her, cornering her against a wooden chest.

“Where the fuck is Rain!” he asked no one in particular.

Ella erupted into tears as he grabbed her, tossing her around the tent like some frail porcelain doll. Her body barrel rolled into a sarcophagi standing up-right. She looked up, dazed and overflowing with pain. The demonic head engraved in its lid glared, missing one of its red eyes.

Sullivan lifted her by the collar of her dress and gritted. Dark determination manifested in his cinnamon eyes as he examined her voluptuous figure. She resembled her sister Lyn in every way save for her violet hair and amber eyes. Sullivan ran a claw down her dress, ripping the fabric around her breasts.

“So exotic… You’re just like your sister — and now I get to taste both of you.”

His jaws widened and expanded as he prepared to devour her. His mouth was only inches from her neck when a voice called to him.

“You’ll never open the tomb if you kill her…”

He sighed and turned, facing Rain who stood at the tent’s entrance. She stared at him sullenly, arms crossed with a wrapped package in one hand. It caught Sullivan’s interest, but he dismissed it for the moment. He released Ella, letting her plummet to the ground, landing painfully on her rear. Rain sauntered to her and grabbed her by the hair, dragging her towards the coffin.

“Where the fuck did you go! We’re on the brink of ruin now! There’s no more money to pay the crews or the subsidiaries anymore! We need to awaken our mother now.”

He ran his hands through his hair, shaking out intrusive sand. Fierce gales collided against the tent, blowing its flaps like two canvas ghosts. His eyes grew vigorously wide as he watched Rain extract a red pearl from Ella’s eye. Ella shrieked as the pearl was pulled from her via purple lightning emitting from Rain’s finger.

Ella covered her eye, unscathed but swollen shut. A searing pain followed, inciting another scream from her. Rain held the sizzling and steaming pearl, before dropping it in Sullivan’s palm. Sullivan held the tiny pearl to his eyes, mesmerized.

He grinned and placed the pearl in the sarcophagi, completing the demon’s eyes. A slight push settled the pearl in place and he stepped back as a mechanism rotated on the lid, opening a small gap in place of the demon’s head. The sarcophagi hissed as the pressure within released, spewing ancient dust.

As if expecting some climatic awakening, Sullivan stood before it. As he waited, his eyes strained from peering into the sarcophagi’s gloom.

He faced Rain. “Why is nothing happening?”

Rain shrugged.

Ella seized the moment, scooping a shard of glass from the broken lamp and jamming it into Sullivan’s thigh. His body staggered back as blood bleached his white pants red. By the time he removed the shard to exact his vengeance, Ella was already gone, running across the desert’s vast dunes under the cover of darkness.

“That little bitch…” he gritted. “I’ll kill her-”

“Forget her,” Rain suggested. “She’s played her part. It’s blood that our mother needs to awaken. Perhaps yours will suffice.”

Sullivan’s face brightened, and her words brought him some measure of reassurance. Fascination overpowered his rage and lust, a rare occurrence, but the devotion to his mother was limitless and unconditional. He cut open his palm with the shard of glass before bringing it to the opening in the sarcophagi. After a generous donation of his own essence, he stepped back.

Soon his labors would yield great fruit; his mother would return, strike down Drake and bring the world to its knees. He would prove his loyalty, guiding the four horsemen to vanquish all his foes with their lightning harnessed from hell itself. Before setting foot in London again, he would receive his mother’s blessing.

The sarcophagi stood idle.

Sullivan’s smile formed into a frown, his expression queer. “You knew it wouldn’t work, didn’t you?” he said with accusing eyes.

“The pearl was reincarnated into that girl,” Rain replied. “It’s always been this way. Drake has kept one pearl; the other is reincarnated into another vessel. Maybe your blood isn’t what she needs-”

Sullivan guffawed. “Drake’s?”


Sullivan threw his arms to the air. “AND I FUCKING KILLED HIM!”

He paced around the tent, lost like a dog separated from its pack. He pondered, but with every thought passing his mind, his grievance grew. Just before Sullivan could decimate what remained of the tent, Rain cleared her throat.

“He’s alive, and I know where he is. I can take you...”

Sullivan approached her, throwing himself at her in a vain attempt at a kiss. Rain pulled away, appalled. She broke his grip and sneered, spitting at the ground.

“I could ravage you right now,” Sullivan tersed, but then chuckled. “Unfortunately, we’re short on time.”

Rain narrowed her eyes and left without another word.

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