Damp Sunshine - 1. Chapter 1

The wet sand was cool against the soles of my feet as I stood next to the water's edge. There was not a cloud on the horizon. The warm rays of the sun beat down on my bare back, causing the skin of my shoulders to tingle pleasantly, and the coastal winds whipped my dark hair into my eyes.

Farther up the beach, children played by the shoreline with their parents near them. The faint sounds of their laughter drifted pass my ears as I watched them stomp a sandcastle into oblivion. The two boys reminded me of Donovan and myself at that age. We had met on day similar to this on a beach that was much closer to home.

I had been alone. My grandmother did not care enough to accompany me to the beach. When I first saw him, he was running hard and fast after a football his father had thrown. I had been sitting in the sand, content to watch their game play out, but Donovan had noticed my presence. He invited me to play, insisting I agree. I could not say no.

"Jake," Donovan called from up the beach, and I snapped out of my reverie.

We had been throwing a Frisbee earlier when Brea had rushed up demanding his attention, as usual. She was a beautiful girl with long tan legs and rich brown hair. She was all smiles where Donovan was concerned and seemed to be popping up much more frequently lately.

Donovan had smiled politely when she plucked the Frisbee out of his hands, but I could tell by the tense set of his shoulders that he wasn't enjoying the interaction. She prattled on, and I waited for Donovan to call me over to all but shoo her away. I was always there to save him from unwanted suitors after all.

The salty ocean air swirled in my nostrils. I jogged over to them. Brea eyed me closely as I approached. She raised one perfectly manicured brow and flipped her hair over her shoulder.

"Hello, Jake," she greeted snidely.

"Brea! What brings you the beach today?" I asked as I wrapped an arm around Donovan's shoulders. "Are you with friends?"

A fake smile crept across her face as she looked back over to Donovan. She ignored my question. I rolled my eyes.

"I've never played Frisbee before. Would you teach me?" She asked Donovan, batting her eyelashes at him.

Donovan shifted uncomfortably at the request.

"Maybe another time, Brea. We have to be getting back home. You know, long drive and all.”

"Come on Casanova," I said.

I pulled him toward the parking lot. Donovan laughed as we started making our way up the beach. Letting go of his shoulders, I broke into a run and challenging him to a race to the car. Sweaty and breathless we reached the jeep at the same time. We leaned against the hot metal of the vehicle, dragging in deep breaths.

"Dude, I almost had you," Donovan said.

The corners of my mouth ticked up as I shielded my eyes from the sun. A sharp spike of pain shot through my sides. I tensed momentarily, but Donovan didn't seem to notice. I shrugged it off and rolled my shoulders a couple of times. The pain dimmed and soon faded to nothing. I looked back over to Donovan. His smile was bright as I watched him grab his shirt from the backseat of the jeep. He tossed me my own before climbing into the driver's side.

"You do realize that Brea is reaching super levels of stalkerdom, right?" I asked as I switched off the radio.

"I'm trying my best to ignore that," Donovan grimaced. "Besides, she's harmless. Summer vacation just started. Eventually she will get bored and move on to the next guy with a six pack."

"Or she could be building a shrine in her bedroom and stealing your personal belongings in the dead of night." Donovan looked over at me with a raised brow, and I grinned, going on further. "Didn't you say you were missing a pair of boxers?"

"Jake, you have been watching way too many Lifetime movies, my friend."

"You say that now, but just wait until she tries to enact a plan to hold you captive in her basement."

We both laughed as he pulled out onto the freeway. The force of the wind whipping through the vehicle stunted the conversation. I slouched back in my seat and watched the coastline race by. Eleven years had passed since we first met, and we had just finished our junior year of high school. We would be seniors come the fall, and I was terrified.

Come graduation day, I would be on my own. My grandmother had made it abundantly clear that I wasn't welcome after I was done with school. I was barely welcomed as it was. To this day it was a surprise she had allowed me to stay after I turned eighteen. I knew Donovan and his parents would take me in if I asked, but I didn't want to be a burden to them.

A full ride to college was waiting on Donovan once he graduated whether it was by baseball or his grades. My grades were decent, but they were nowhere near scholarship material. I was looking at state at best, providing I could get enough financial aid to cover it, and even then it was a stretch.

On a day like today, forgetting about all of that was almost easy. Everything still lingered in the back of my mind, of course; the nightmares, the lies, and the fact that I was completely in love with my best friend. Yes. I was completely gone for Donovan. Ever since I first saw him on the beach I had been drawn to him. Deep down in the core of my being I knew he was supposed to be a part of my life—that he was integral to my survival.

"You shouldn't frown so hard," Donovan called over the roar of the wind. "You'll get wrinkles."

I grinned. Turning my gaze from the coastline, I looked over to him. His blond curls were whipping around in a myriad of directions as his blue eyes glanced between me and the road.

"I'm too young for wrinkles," I replied in mock outrage.

"The frown on your face says otherwise."

"I was just thinking about some things. Not serious enough for you to be concerned about me getting wrinkles."

He reached over and gave me a playful push on the shoulder. I leaned back and closed my eyes. Sleep claimed me easily after the long morning in the sun. My dreams were filled with blood spatters, sounds of crunching bones, and my parents’ screams. The dream wasn't new. I had experienced it repetitively for as long as I could remember. Lately though, the nightmare had become more vivid and frequent. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the same carnage in a new horrifying light.

Donovan insisted that I talk to someone with at least half of a degree in psychology for years. Worrying him wasn't something I liked doing, but the thing was, I couldn't talk to anyone about the nightmares. More importantly, sometimes I didn't think it was just a dream. Not all of it. What I was dreaming about wasn't normal.

The bones that broke in the darkness were the bones of two enormous sets of wings: one black, one white. Those wings always ended up bloody and broken. They belonged to the agonized faces of my parents. I never saw their attacker. I always woke up when their screams reached their peak. On some level, I knew it wasn't just a dream but part of a memory.

I jumped awake when I felt Donovan's hand on my shoulder.

"Nightmare again?" he asked.

Nodding, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and sat up. We were parked beside the curb in front of my house. Despite all the years I had lived there, the place had never been my home. I looked at it in disgust. The once-white paint was peeling from the aged siding, distracting from the rotted boards of the porch. It was a place to sleep. That was all. My home had long since been wherever Donovan was.

"I'll pick you up tomorrow?" Donovan asked as I grabbed my bag from the back seat and climbed out.

"Yeah, I don't have to be at work until around four. Plenty of time for junk food and video games at your place."

"Awesome! I'll see you then, dude!"

He sped off in a flourish of squealing tires as per usual. Shaking my head, I made my way up the gravel drive and stepped around the rotted boards. The door opened with a protesting creak. The house was unnervingly quiet. I dropped my duffel next to the hall closet.

"I'm back," I called.

Eerie silence met my greeting. I half-expected a grunt of disapproval, but none came. My grandmother didn't appear to be there for once, which was a change. Typically, she was always milling around and grumbling about how she was too old to be tasked with a child.

I walked into the kitchen. My cat Minx jumped off the refrigerator onto my shoulders. He purred loudly, as if proud that he startled me.

"You act too human sometimes," I said as he jumped down into my arms with a dignified meow. Black fur covered the front of my shirt. I wrinkled my nose in distaste. I sat him down next to his food bowl, ignoring the pain that dully returned to my sides.

He looked at me with his large green eyes. For the first time, the way he looked at me was unsettling. I frowned as the pain in my sides radiated up into my shoulders. I rolled them once more and reached for the box of cat food on the counter.

My fingers had no more than gripped the box when the pain doubled. The container fell to the floor, bits of kibble scattering across the linoleum and under the appliances. I cried out as I fell to my knees. My skin was burning. The ache in my shoulders turned sharp and jagged. I screamed out again in agony.

Tears filled my eyes as the pain intensified. I fell to my side and curled myself into the fetal position. The pain moved to the core of my body. It seemed to be blooming outward as it consumed me. Before my vision went dark and I fell into unconsciousness, I saw a man standing above me. Concerned green eyes stared down at me.

Everything went dark.

oOo

The room was bright and breezy the first time I regained consciousness. The light streaming in through the open windows caused my head to ache. Looking around, I realized that I was no longer in my house but somewhere foreign. My entire body ached. Had someone told me I had been run over by a truck, I wouldn't have hesitated to believe them.

When I tried to sit up, my vision swam. I groaned loudly and fell face down the soft covers. Time seemed to pass quickly after that. I fell into a cycle of waking briefly before falling back into an exhausted sleep. Sometimes, the room would be dark and cool when I cracked open my eyes. Other times, it would be dusk or painfully bright.

The sun was shining when I woke with a clear head. My body felt relaxed and rested. I stretched, jumping in fright when I caught sight of the same green eyed man from my kitchen. He was sitting patiently next to the bed. His black hair was stark against his pale skin. He smiled at me.

"You look as if you are feeling much better," he said, his voice low and silky.

"What happened—how long have I been here?"

"You have been recovering for a little over a week. What happened is an entirely different story that will take quite a bit of explaining."

"Oh, God. Donovan probably thinks I've been murdered," I groaned.

"Do not worry about Donovan. I have made sure he knows you are safe. Although, I am not entirely sure he believed me at the time. I could not actually tell him the truth about what was happening."

"Who are you?" I managed.

The man was all smiles as he stood from his rather soft looking brown chair. I narrowed my gaze as he stretched languidly.

"I am Amos," he said simply. "You, however have been calling me 'Minx' for many years. I am pleased to go by either name."

"No offense, Amos, but you don't look very much like my cat. Forgive me if I don't believe you."

The tall man rolled his eyes and then stepped closer to the bed. He held my gaze, his grin continuing to grow. He coyly asked, "Are you sure I don't look anything like Minx?"

He started to transform before my eyes. I began to shake my head disbelievingly. His skin rippled, and his bones cracked until the cat I had always remembered having sat in front of me licking a paw.

"Alright, I'm sold. Explain."

He shifted back faster than I could have imagined and purred at me in a way that much too feline for a human. He sat down on the bed next to me.

"I am a guardian with a unique ability to shape shift. Not many can learn it, and few can master as many forms as I have managed. I was tasked by your parents to keep you safely hidden until you came into you inheritance."

"My parents were not human I take it?"

"Nor are you. Or have you failed to notice the rather magnificent pair of white wings that have been bestowed upon you by your ancestors and the Goddess?"

My hands flew to my back, and I careened my head to get a look at the wings. I had not noticed them. When I stretched them out, they felt like an appendage I had had my entire life. My wing span was huge. Amos laughed at the—I am sure—awed expression on my face as I ran my fingers through the soft feathers.

"While you are at it, take a moment to consider that werewolves, witches, vampires and other mythological creatures are real to some extent."

My heart stuttered at his words. "I'll bite. Keep going."

"Unfortunately, the irony of that statement is lost on you. Over the years human culture has managed to catch brief glimpses into our world, but they have never found the truth. There are four main powers: magick wielders, guardians, night stalkers, and children of the moon. Together, they governed all other magical creatures.

"Your father was the ruler of the Guardian race. Your mother was the queen of the night stalkers. The Royal families of each power can be traced back to the beginning of time. Never in all of our history have the races mixed."

I frowned. "Are you saying that it wasn't allowed, or that it just wasn't natural?"

"All races, by design of the goddess, have destined mates. Two souls designed to intertwine so perfectly that the bond is unbreakable once formed. Mates had always been found within your own race or within a human. Your parents were the one and only exception. Their bond was feared. When the others heard that Guardian and Night Stalker kingdoms had united in the way of a child, you were hunted, and your parents murdered in fear that the merged kingdoms would gain too much power.

"What no one realized is that with the murder of your parents the kingdoms would seek revenge for their lost rulers. Wars were waged, thousands were killed in the name of retribution. The magick wielders and the children of the moon have since learned the error of their ways, but there are a few who have been tainted with a taste of power."

My mind was spinning with the new information. Amos looked at me sympathetically as he patted my leg.

"You carry a large burden, Jake. You are the first of your kind; a hybrid of guardian and night stalker. For eighteen years, I have kept you hidden amongst humans upon your parent's request. For eighteen years, both night stalkers and guardians have awaited your return to the throne. You are the only one who can lead both kingdoms out of what has been deemed the Blood Years and restore order to the natural balance of things."

With a shake of my head, I threw myself out of the bed and began to pace across the old hardwood floor. Amos sighed, remaining seated.

"How am I supposed to lead two kingdoms and restore order to the universe of magical creatures when I have absolutely no idea what a guardian or a night stalker even is?" I demanded.

"I will teach you the ways of the guardian, Jake. Your mother's friend, Elise, will step in for the night stalker role. You can do this Jake. Not only do you have the royal blood of a guardian but also that of a night stalker. Both are fierce protectors in their own rights. The sheer amount of power you have is tremendous. Your inheritance is the most powerful I have ever seen. I can feel it in the air around you. It has come alive on your skin—"

I raised my hand to stop him from going any further. I looked around the small room. Next to the door sat a mirror encased in a wooden frame. Slowly, I approached it. Fear crawled up my spine at what I might find in my reflection. I peered into the looking glass to find my torso covered in swirling lines and symbols of languages I didn't know. I traced along the edge of a line curling down my left side and over my stomach. Amos came to stand next to my right wing.

"Only the royal families of the four powers have markings such as these. Only you have the markings of both Qythein Guardians and Kaialain Night Stalkers. Each marking is a gift of protection and grace, from the blessings that circle your wings to the promises of strength that wind down your sides. The more marks, the stronger the leader."

"I take it I have more than most."

"Jake you have more than anyone has ever fathomed," Amos said quietly. "But this one," He said pointing over the particularly dark and delicate knot of symbols, "is the mark of the Goddess. No one not even Merlin of the Magick Wielders held it in his possession."

The mark tingles as I traced a finger over it. I realized something. "When I try to take back the thrones, I will be challenged. I'll have to fight."

"You will take the thrones with no problem. Keeping them will be the problem. A child of the moon and a wielder will be your biggest threats. They killed your parents for the power it would bring to their kingdoms, and they will kill you if they find you before Elise and I have taught you how to survive."

Something thrummed through my veins, a low buzz that put me on edge and made the marking over my heart tingle. I traced the mark in question.

"They are looking for me now. I can feel it."

"Yes, but here you are safe. This estate, however long abandoned, is hidden deep within the guardian kingdom. Only Elise and I can find it. For centuries it has been a safe retreat for the Qythein family. It is here we will teach you."

I looked to the window my heart aching in a way I hadn't noticed before.

"Donovan is my mate." The statement hung thick in the air, and I knew this without a single doubt in my mind—without even realizing I knew it. "He is in the most danger until I learn how to protect him and myself."

"Yes. If they find you before you can learn how to shield him, they will seek him out in effort to use him against you."

I turned from the mirror to look Amos in the eye. He straightened his spine and bowed, one closed fist over his heart.

"My Lord," he said.

"We start now."