Urchin of Atoranon Read online

5/5 stars from author Heather Watson

  I’ve been lucky enough to see this story evolve from a rough to the form it’s in now. And man, it has grown into a polished, decadent tale of evil plots, warring supernatural forces, and zee power o’ love. I recommend this to anyone tired of the modern ‘vampire fad,’ for these vampires are traditional, bloodthirsty gods in the night. But in each of them, a streak of humanity runs, and how that influences their ‘dominant nature’ makes a great mess of things, but a great treat to the reader. The ensuing drama is a tale worthy of being told, and the author tells it with skill and excitement. Plus you know you’ve always wanted to read about an angry vampire slicing other vampires in half with a katana. Don’t deny it.

  Prologue

  I spent the final days of my life alone, even though I did not know I was dying. Around me, the world seemed to be shifting. A cloud of darkness shrouded what had once been an ordinary existence and ripped from me everything I had known. For long hours, I would stand at work and stare at the people who passed me by as though attempting to figure out what changed and when. Little did I know what waited for me around the corner.

  Granted, the final days leading up to the earliest hours of January 20, 1983 are somewhat of a blur to me. It might have been the enchantment I was under, or the haze of realizing I lived on borrowed time without knowing how I could be certain of such a thing. I could not tell you what those final nights were like, or if anybody could sense the fact that I was fading in the background, about to cross paths with destiny. About to slip from one skin to another. I only know that night, it all reached a crescendo and set me on the path I find myself today.

  I have lived many lives by now. I have held many titles and been several people and several things already. There were years when I gazed at others with compassion latent in my stare, and years when I beheld each victim I have claimed with coldness before sending them to meet their maker. Saint and sinner; bastard, friend, and foe. So many deaths and so many rebirths. So many layers to this creature I am. This being I became.

  I am a vampire, but I have not always been. I can yet recall the days when I bore a pulse. Some memories stick out much more potently than others, but the first quarter century of my immortal existence frames the lot of them in a panorama of cause and effect. Through everything I face and have faced, I can look back upon the events which preceded me and see where I have arrived and how I have arrived there. I can see the hand of fate.

  Oh, if only I would have known.

  Back when this all began, if I could have seen the clear path to the present, I often wonder if I would have walked gracefully into the trials which followed. I would like to think so, but I know the experiences which have filled the years. The highs and lows; the moments of despair and the moments of triumph, they have made me what I am. I am vampire, yes, but I am no ordinary immortal. I still feed as one. I possess the fangs, the will, and the consuming instincts of one. The casual observer misses something very important when it comes to me, though; a very crucial feature beneath the unruly brown hair and above the crooked smile.

  Most people do not know what they should be looking for when they see me. Not many humans recognize the emerald green eyes or know of their relevance for very good reason, because unique creatures such as I do not wish for them to know. There exists an entire world underneath their noses they overlook every day and only when the supernatural falls onto their laps do they learn of its presence. I was much the same as them a few decades ago, an unsuspecting, unknowing mortal with pale blue eyes instead of the ethereal irises I now possess.

  I shall not linger any longer on riddles. Suffice to say there are many layers to this creature who inhabits this mortal coil, and yet the world around me rarely casts a second glance my way. When the council of the supernatural fashioned what would be my existence, they created a paradox; an eternal enigma.

  My name is Peter Dawes and this is my story.

  It all started with a murder.

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