• Prologue Flee
    “I must warn her,” pants the boy sprinting through the forest. He knows that he is being followed. He stops and listens, for what he fears is following him. He hears it, that dreaded sound, the steady thud-thud of wing beats. He keeps still. After a few minutes of heart-stopping terror, it finally heads off, shrieking as it does so. Not wasting a second of time, the boy takes off through the maze-like forest growth.
    As he runs he reflects on his life before the blood infusion, of how blissfully ignorant he had been of the world in thinking that humans were the only sentient species on earth. His shock at realizing his girlfriend/fiancé was one of them, the Bahamuts. Also he thought of his amazement at the explanation that he was immortal and all-powerful. How His reaction had startled his “father-in-law,” in not wanting anything to do with them.
    As he is lost in thought he doesn’t see the girl who looks about his age in the next clearing until it’s to late. He skids to a stop as she looks at him.
    “Hello Steven,” the girl greets him coldly.
    “Hello Shiva,” Steven responds with equal frost.
    “Steven come back with me,” she tries gently, even knowing what his answer will be.
    Steven just shakes his head, knowing what the reaction will be from his mate.
    “Then I am truly sorry, Steven,” Shiva apologizes as she raises her hand, her power charging around her fingertips.
    There were two sounds, but Steven Brusk only heard the first part, thud, and then he was falling…falling… into darkness.



    Chapter 1 Fate in a word
    The news of her brother’s disappearance shook Newell Brusk to her core. At first she refused to believe he was dead, but as time wore on, her resolve was eroded like the rock in the water. During that time she was little more than an animal, lashing out at everyone around her, not caring about those who were trying to help. Slowly she began to come back to us, but she never forgot about her brother. She never forgot that day the sheriff knocked on the door and said, “Ma’am your brother has…disappeared.” That was the first day she cried herself to sleep on my shoulder. I almost told her then. About what I am. About what her brother became. About Bahamuts.
    Bahamuts are creatures with extraordinary gifts. We can, when trained, do anything possible and almost anything impossible. It is how we look naturally that really sets us apart from you humans. Our skin is covered in fur of varying lengths. Short on the face longer on the back. We have tails though they differ per Bahamut. Mine is like a foxtail, I am peppered with white spots on my mostly black pelt creating a starry sky appearance. Most all of my coloring is like that. Even my wings, though they are little bit more black than the rest of my body. My ears are that of a cat, with sensitive hearing to go along with them. My feet look like rabbit feet, though mine only have three toes. I am a Veira, one of the peacekeeping Bahamuts. Our powers are above and beyond that of an, dare I say it, ordinary Bahamut. There are very few Veiras born to the Bahamut tribes, in fact I am only one of four in this age.
    We have had some incidents in the past conflicting with humans. Perhaps the most famous was the Salem witch trials. You will never read about when the villagers actually caught one of us. There are also the Bermuda triangle incidents. Bermuda was one of the training grounds for our young to exercise their powers. Any plane that observed us was grounded and the survivors’ memories erased.
    Being immortal, I have seen the rise of humanity and I will probably see its fall. I have spoken with Solomon and conquered with Alexander and Genghis. I helped the Greeks conquer Troy. I helped build Rome. I sailed with Columbus and fought with the Native Americans. I served under George Washington during the Revolution. I helped slaves escape and fought in the Civil War. I served in the first and second world wars. And most recently I served a tour in the Middle East. Over the eons I have both saved and destroyed millions of lives. The past does not change…people do.
    I am Eden DeMarlo.


    Chapter 2 Newell
    Her name is Newell (NA-well) Brusk
    (Bruh-sk) I have been “seeing” her for quite some time now. It always amuses me to masquerade as a human child. But this time I did so and I found something quite interesting. She is a Bahamut descendant. A few generations removed of course, but still enough to be recognized. Extreme amount of shaving and anti-hair supplies in her personal bathroom, so I assume that she has hair issues. She hides her ears in her hair so no one ever sees them. For a slight build she is super strong; this girl could bench two hundred pounds her first try. Her parents, when they were still alive, never let her go to a doctors office. So they knew what she is, or at least what part of her is. She has never broken a bone and her body weight stays at 120lbs no matter what she does. Her muscle tone never degenerates. And she doesn’t even notice these attributes.
    Finding her was the easy part, compared to figuring out how to convince her of what world she is a part of without freaking her out. The first reaction is usually disbelief, not wanting to belief something is real. That it is just a really weird pick up line. Then I show them my true form and that’s when the screaming usually starts. I can remember a time when you humans would bow down. I miss back then, the world was less complicated.
    I have been trying to work up the courage to tell her for a month or so now. To tell her of an old dimension of her world. To tell her she is part of my world. Every time I am about to tell her she gives me one of those looks that says, “I trust you,” and my courage breaks down. To completely change someone’s life, with no promise of it getting better. It weighs heavily on my mind.
    So here I am trying to think of a way to break it to her in a way that would not drive her away from me. Needless to say I have my work cut out for me.
    A sharp TAP-TAP brings me out of my contemplations. I look over at the living room window and peering up, probably on her toes, is Newell. I saunter on over to the widow and slide it open.
    As she climbs in I say to her, “You know, it’s lucky I live all the way out here in the wild or the neighbors would think someone was breaking in.” She sits on the window ledge for a few seconds before responding.
    “Are you joking?” she asks incredulously, “I…am a ninja,” she demonstrates that claim by falling off the ledge back into the yard.
    I wait until she climbs back in; she is swearing a blue streak, falls into the house and just lies there before I stride over look down and says, “Ninjas don’t fall backwards into lawns.” I reach down and help her up. When the ninja is on her feet she grapples me into a bear hug.
    “What happened?” I ask quietly, her face is buried in my neck.
    She backs up and pulls out a envelope while explaining, “The police think they found the place where Steven…disappeared.” She almost said died but her stubbornness kept her from doing so. I just admire that, of course she is right but she doesn’t know that…yet.
    She thrusts the envelope at me. I open the thing like I suspect it is a bomb…carefully. Inside are a few photos. One has a picture of Steven’s ‘94 Dodge Dakota. The front part is smashed around a century old oak tree. Both doors are missing, all the windows a broken or cracked. The next two are pictures of the doors the passenger side door looks like it was smashed from the inside. Not surprising, Shiva probably couldn’t open it from the inside. The other has Shiva’s claw marks and the door is bent out, so she ripped off the hinges. The last one is a picture of the inside drivers seat and dashboard. They are both covered in blood.
    I look up from the photos and glance at the sofa where Newell sat down. She takes the hint and fills in what I already know, “The police took samples of the blood, and it is Stevens.” Her brother’s name comes out shaky. She buries her head in her hands as I quietly take a place beside her on the sofa. I put my right arm around her and just hold on to her. She wraps her arms around me and cries into my shoulder for what seems to be the hundredth time.
    After a few minutes she takes a tissue from her pocket and wipes her eyes. Then she looks up and time slows. Her eyes show depth of things long forgotten. Summer days and nights spent care free under the sun and moon. The distance between us closes, and with one reality-shattering kiss, I know I have to tell her right then.
    “Stop,” I breakaway and break the spell. She looks up with a questioning look.
    “What’s wrong, Eden?” she asks concerned, but not entirely happy with the circumstance.
    “I have to tell you something.”


    Chapter 3 Realization of Mortality
    “What I have to say you may not like,” I continue, “And while you may not like, or even believe what I am going to say, I want you to promise me two things.”
    “What?” she asks, curious but still mildly concerned.
    “One, please do not scream, it hurts my ears,” she raises her eyebrows, now a little more curious, “And two, don’t run, give me a chance to explain, do you agree?” I wait for her answer.
    “I will not run and I will try not to scream, good enough?” She is still treating this like some petty secret, something to joke about and to laugh at. At least she will have a smile on her face as her world, as she knows it, shatters. I stand up and stride to the center of the room. I take off my shirt, which prompts a whistle from Newell.
    “Newell, I am not human,” I thought I would try a different approach this time and just say it outright. Though I did expect the laughter the follow the silence. She laughs herself to tears.
    After she catches her breath she says to me, “So, which one are you, the Mad Hatter or the March Hare?” She starts laughing again. I close my eyes.
    “Newell,” I call her name softly, and when I feel her looking at me, I open my eyes. Her laughter sticks in her throat as she gazes at just my eyes, which are all black. A Bahamuts eyes see only the infrared spectrum. I blink and my eyes are back to normal.
    “So, Newell do you still think I am trying to lie to you?” I ask slightly mocking her. I crouch down before continuing in a non-mocking tone, “Are you ready to go further down the rabbit hole, Alice?”
    She just nods her head, so I stand back up. I relax my mind and my human form melts away like rising steam. My ears travel up to the top of my head. Silk smooth hair grows all over my body, longer in some places, and shorter in others. My wings come up from my shoulder blades. I stretch them out for effect and relief. My feet become longer; think of a dog’s back leg and you will have a pretty good idea. I swish my tail back and forth just so she knows I have one. I have kept my eyes on her all the time my transformation is going on. Her eyes just get wider and wider. We stare at each other for a minute. The silence is so loud.
    “So Newell, what do you think?” I ask my voice much deeper now. She just looks with either fear or curiosity, maybe both. She stands and steps closer, until she is within arms reach. She reaches out but stops at the last moment.
    “May I?” she asks. I reach up and take her hand and bring it to the left side of my face while saying, “I am real, but can you talk with me like this or would you prefer I take a human form?”
    “Of course I can talk to you like this,” she says softly.
    “So, you are not afraid?” I ask with a smile. I drop her hand.
    “I’m terrified,” she laughs lightly, “But I can still have a rational conversation.”
    “Then ask.”
    “What?” she looks puzzled.
    “Ask a question,” I clarify, “And I will answer it.” Her question is almost immediate.
    “What are you?” My answer is just as immediate.
    “A Bahamut.” I see a spark of recognition, maybe her parents tried to tell her after all.
    “What’s that?” she asks. I can see a dawning dread.
    “The other side of mortality.” I say simply. She gives me a questioning look and I silence her with a wave, “Humans are mortal, I am immortal. Ask another question.” I was not prepared for what came next.
    “My parents sat both Steven and I down one day, and told us about your kind,” Newell says softly, “They told us that you were monsters, animals who took what they wished and killed when you pleased.” She pauses and looks at me, “but from what I know about you, they have to be wrong about most of that.”
    “So what weren’t they wrong about?” I ask with a smile. Now it fits; why Steven ran away. There is probably more to it then that, but that is part of it.
    “You do look like an animal,” she answers with a smile of her own. I can see her visibly relax, so maybe she is comfortable and she is taking this better than most humans. So I proceed to tell her about her own bloodline.
    “So, how do you feel about this?” I ask with meaning it leads to something else.
    “I don’t like that you been keeping this,” she gestures at me, “From me, but I understand why you did…why?” she looks at me expectantly.
    “Because, you are descended from my kind,” I reassume my human form and sit in my leather chair before continuing, “You and those before you.”
    “Like who,” She asked with interest.
    “Your mother and father. And perhaps your grandparents.” I could feel that she wanted something more, or she is guessing ahead. Whatever it was I felt trapped now.
    “And my brother?” I wince, damn she is good, for to give this answers will raise more questions. How to tell her that he is still alive and I knew? That would be one of my greatest trick yet.
    Just two words, “Him too,” I say with a nod.
    She looks slightly dejected, and I feel quite horrible, but it had to be done. Times like this her eyes just pull me in.