Okay, I have edited this chapter. Better?

Thanks, Tanya


Chapter 2

Drying her tears, Meghan put her daughter down. Rhee looked up when a tall shadow fell upon her. Her brother Drake crouched so that their eyes could meet. Drake looked so serious that Rhee understood this was an adult conversation. She squared her young shoulders and stared into her brother’s blue eyes. Their father’s eyes. She bit her lip not to cry; she needed to be grown up now.

“Rhee, Dad had a vision before . . . vanishing,” Drake spoke softly, “he says you’re in danger. We have to keep you and your mother hidden away. Do you understand?”

Rhee nodded hesitantly. She understood but what was she in danger from? Her brother read her mind easily.

“We don’t know. He asked us to protect you. We promised we would.”
“All four of you?” She looked at her three other siblings. Drake nodded.
“But you hate each other. Hate being together. How could all four of you together protect me?”

She could almost hear Drake’s teeth grinding when she mentioned all four of them working together but his eyes were soft and tender when he answered.

“I’m sorry that we weren’t very discreet about our feelings towards one another around you. The four of us have . . . issues. For now, let’s just leave it at that. But we do have one point in common, one thing that motivates us to be better people: our love for you. We wouldn’t let anything happen to you. Ever. You’re our baby sister, nothing can change that.”

Rhee’s eyes filled up with tears, making her vision funny. She never doubted that her siblings loved her, she felt cherished around them, but it was a beautiful proof of love that they were getting together to protect her.

* * *

Tristan worked overtime all week. He was lucky he hadn’t injured himself working in the metal shop, considering how distracted he’d been. For the past week now, he’d dreamt of a dark-haired, blue-eyed man who called himself Drake.
The man’s message had been the same, night after night.
“My name is Drake, Tristan, and I mean you no harm. I come to you in your dreams because you would not be so easily approachable otherwise. I apologise for the intrusion but I must speak with you. You see, I suspect that you were destined for greatness and I also suspect that it involves a young redhead named Aya. If you would like to know more, come meet me behind the bowling alley of your neighbourhood. I will wait for you until midnight.”
The only thing that changed in the messages was the length of days Drake would wait for him. Tonight was the last. He had tried telling Drake that he couldn’t make it, that he had to work overtime but he couldn’t seem to get his mouth to work. He would explain tonight, after the man told him why the hell he had permitted himself to get into his dreams, uninvited. Then he would give him a piece of his mind. Or his fists.
Tristan measured and cut a length of metal for the awaiting order and he shook his head. Was he really thinking of going to the bowling alley?
Tristan threw the cut piece of metal to the other side of the room, disgusted with himself. There was something . . . Unnatural, supernatural about the way Drake had contacted him. Maybe, if he could do that, then he could help Tristan search for his parents . . .
He angrily picked up another length of metal. He was angry with Drake for protruding in his dreams, even angrier at himself for believing in his dream-words. What if he made a fool of himself if no one was there? He sighed, cut the piece. Nobody would know but him, that was for sure.
He looked up at the clock and discovered he still had three hours to go before the end of his shift. Three very long hours.
* * *
“Supper was great Mom,” Aya said getting up from the table. She took the plates from her mother’s hands. “Your show is starting, go ahead and watch it, I’ll take care of the dishes.”
Carrie kissed her daughter’s cheek. “Thank you sweetie, but it’s Saturday, don’t you have any plans?”
“Nope, nothing at all. A peaceful evening at home is what I have planned.” Thank God! Aya thought for she couldn’t imagine herself trying to make sense out of her friends’ conversations when she couldn’t even make sense of her own thoughts.

Aya watched her mother link fingers with her father Mark and smiled at the tender look that passed between them. No matter how difficult her life sometimes was, she always found hope in the love her parents shared. Twenty-five years of marriage was a novelty in this day and age and she never tired of looking at them. With a sigh, she tied her long red hair in a loose bun, grabbed her IPOD from her purse, turned it on and shoved the earphones in her ears. She went through the Artist list and decided to listen to some Linkin Park. She needed something loud she could sing with to keep her mind off her dreaded upcoming bedtime.

She was wiping the counter, signing loudly to What I’ve done, when a hand clamped down on her shoulder. She let out a frightened shriek and whirled around. Her parents were staring at her with wide eyes.

“Sorry,” she laughed nervously. “Guess I was listening to my music a little loud.”

Her parents just kept staring.

“What? I don’t sing that bad, do I?” she asked self-consciously. She ran her hand through her hair - a sure sign that she was nervous - and realised her hair was still tied up. She pulled the elastic and shook her mane free.
“Aya, what have you done?” Her mother whispered.
“The dishes. I told you I’d do them.” She looked around to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. Her mom could be a stickler for dishes details sometimes.

Carrie reached for her daughter, grabbed her arm, whipped her around and yanked her hair up.

“Ow! Mom, stop! Mom, you’re hurting me, stop!”
“Mark, come see,” said Carrie, still whispering.

From the corner of her eye, Aya saw her father approach then heard a short gasp.

“Okay, enough! What is going on?” Aya yelled desperately. Her parents had never reacted this way. Her mother would never purposely hurt her. Frankly, they were scaring her.
“We understand that at twenty-one you’re considered an adult, Aya, but seems to us it would have been common courtesy to ask us first,” her father informed her.
“Ask.You.What?” She emphasised every word, trying to get a straight answer out of them.
“The tattoo, Aya,” her parents replied simultaneously.

She tensed, bewildered. What tattoo?
But her father continued talking. “We know you’ve never liked that birthmark of yours and we understand why you keep your hair down all the time; to cover your nape and hide your mark. But Aya isn’t tattooing it a bit . . . extreme?”

Aya slowly turned around, tugging at her hair in the process, her face red with anger. She did not technically have a soft disposition but she didn’t believe in getting angry to get things done quickly. Working in customer service, she often saw clients use their tempers in hopes that their anger would speed things up for them. But not Aya. She strongly believed that a gentle voice and pleasant smile would bring you a long way. But when she did get angry, she was a force to be reckoned with.

“What is wrong with you two? Are you crazy, or what? I don’t believe in getting tattoos and I definitely would not have gotten one without discussing it with you two first. You've raised me for twenty-one years; don’t you know me at all?”
“Don’t lie to us, Aya. We have the proof right here. It’s no longer a coffee-coloured mark Aya, it’s . . . it’s . . .”
“Well? What is it?” She demanded. When she got no response, she yanked up her hair herself and turned her back to her parents. “Mom! Dad! What is it?”
“I … I don’t know, Aya,” Carrie stammered. “It seems to be shifting, changing. It’s . . . different from a few minutes ago.”
“So you’re telling me . . . that my birthmark is changing? Are you kidding me or what? What is going on?”

Aya turned back to her parents when asking the last question, her eyes wide, pleading for her parents to tell her what was happening.

Eyes wide with shock, her father whispered in the quiet kitchen, “Carrie. Your parents . . . They never said she’d have it from birth. They never mentioned it would eventually . . . shift.”

Aya was angered and confused by her father’s whispered words. What was he talking about? A shifting birthmark . . .? A realisation suddenly came to her too because eyes wide and mouth open, she stared at her parents in shock.

As a child, Aya’s parents hadn’t read her fairy tales. Instead, they told her of a long foretold prophecy. It was passed down from generation to generation, repeated nightly to children so that they too could pass it on themselves to their young ones.
It was foretold, by whom nobody seemed to remember -or maybe it was never known- that for hundreds of years there would be an ongoing battle, the Clans vs. the Gods. One day, a baby would be born; a descendant of his last child that would inherit all of his powers and this child would have to bind with the clans to finally bring peace and balance to our world. This child would be recognizable by a birthmark that would, in time, become his sacred symbol.

Only, nobody knew who he was, who the Clans were and where to find the Gods. Assuming any of this was true, where would go to find the clan members, to bind with? And what was the sacred symbol?

Suddenly exhausted, Aya bid goodnight to her still-in-shock parents and headed upstairs to her bedroom. She positioned her three mirrors sitting atop her dresser so she could see the back of her head. She stared at herself nervously. Her skin was paler than usual, so pale in fact that the few freckles she had on her cheeks really stood out. Her large brown eyes were wide and worried. Nodding decisively to her reflection, she quickly tied up her hair and twisted around. Although she knew her parents would not lie to her, and they were clearly upset about her supposedly tattooed birthmark, she was shocked to realise her parents were right; her birthmark was shifting! She couldn’t say exactly what her mark looked like before because she hadn’t seen it much; a little hard behind her head as it was. Her coffee-coloured mark seemed to have slightly darkened and although the shifting wasn’t quite as obvious as she had feared, there was obviously something going on. Aya’s only comparison was to a still pond where a rock had hit the surface; ripples spread out from the point of impact. That was what her mark looked like; tiny ripples spreading out from the middle.

Thousands of explanations went through Aya’s mind to justify her changing birthmark but she knew only one was the right one. The birthmark she’d always hated, always kept hidden, had branded her as being the powerful descendant of the prophecy.
She removed the elastic in her hair, wearily got out of her clothing, slipped into her pajamas and crawled into bed, praying for a dreamless night.
* * *
Blood red eyes. The full moon. Two men. White gleaming fangs. Razor sharp teeth sink into soft flesh. A victim’s scream.
Aya woke up, once again clawing her throat. She realised that she’d been dreaming. She looked at the time; she’d only been sleeping thirty minutes. Fighting back tears, she snapped her eyes shut, fighting also the pull of sleep, but failed . . .

It was dark. The tall man with the long black hair and cool blue eyes was guided by the moon as he walked deeper into the shadows of the alley. He didn’t need the light, he saw perfectly well in the dark of the night and yet, somehow, tonight he felt comforted by its presence. As if this full moon was a promise of things to come, announcing, finally, the fulfilment of . . .
The man’s black hair whipped at his face as he raised his eyes to the promising moon and inhaled deeply through his nose. A stench of evil and corruption filled his nostrils and he held back the oncoming sneeze. Best to not let the other presence know that he was on to him. With a grin, he took a step back into the shadows.

Aya watched, helpless. She knew this was the same dream she’d had for the past week but this time, somehow, it was clear as day to her. She knew he was waiting for a man, could sense another man. The one he’d sink his fangs into. She sensed, though, that this dream was different from the previous ones when she heard footsteps coming from the street, heading for the alley. Her heartbeat quickened as she turned to the sound and noticed the six foot tall muscular frame. She didn’t need to see his face; she’d know this presence anywhere. Tristan! She knew his long brown hair would get into his clear green eyes and that at any second he would rake his hand through his thick hair. His step didn’t falter as he approached the alley, she knew the confidence was real, knew the man to be fearless. Well, almost.

What was Tristan doing in this dream with the Vampire? Aya wondered. Was she going crazy? Were her worlds and dreams mixing?

Suddenly he tensed, whipped around and crouched low to the ground, a growl rumbling from his throat. The dark man stepped out of the shadows, his hands held up in a gesture of peace.

“Easy, Tristan, I need to talk to you.” His voice was low and compelling. Tristan rose slowly from his crouch.

No, Tristan, no! Aya thought. He was a Vampire! The young woman frantically searched her dream for a sign of something, anything, that would indicate Tristan’s whereabouts. There! She noticed the bowling alley’s neon lights further down the street, saw that they were actually behind the building. Satisfied, she turned her attention back to Tristan and the Vampire just in time to see a smaller man, probably the one the Vampire had been sniffing, emerge from the shadows behind Tristan, raise his hand and fire . . .
NO! Aya’s terrified scream awakened her and she jerked upright in bed. When her parents didn’t come running, she realised she’d only screamed in her dream. She pushed back her covers, yanked off her pajamas, pulled on her jeans and then hesitated, stilled. What did she think she was doing? What she actually heading over to the bowling alley? On some primal level she felt that what she has just witnessed was not a dream but a warning of things to come. On another level, the more rational one, she realised that she had never had a premonition before in her life, why start now?

Aya looked down at the pair of socks she was clutching in her hand. Her whole body was poised for flight, it wanted, needed to be on the move. Her body and heart knew that they needed to be at the bowling alley and once there, would meet up with Tristan, the man of her dreams. But . . . She hesitated. Her mind took possession of the situation, reigning in her urges, holding her still. Tristan’s in trouble, Tristan’s in trouble! Her heart hammered, it knew the dream to be true. Ripping her gaze away from the socks, Aya looked up and caught sight of the moon in the reflection of her mirror. The moon, like the one the Vampire had been guided by, the one who watched at the Vampire ripped the man’s throat out. What if he did it to Tristan too? She’d dreamt of him her whole life, what would she do without him? Her eyes still locked on the mirror, she remembered the past week of horrifying dreams, her shifting birthmark and she realised that this night had been bound to happen. Something was going to change, now. Tonight.
Her eyes narrowed decisively, she hurriedly slipped on her socks, quietly made her way downstairs and out of the house then jumped into her car. Ten minutes later, she was at the bowling alley.

* * *
‘If this guy is legit,’ Tristan wondered to himself, ‘why does he want to meet me in the dark of the night behind a closed bowling alley? Why not in a restaurant or a bar? That was something else he planned on asking the man, if he was real. He still couldn’t believe he had actually decided to go to the bowling alley. He strode forward confidently, heading for the area he had seen in his dreams, off the docking ramp. In his right hand, he held his pocket knife expertly. He hoped that with his confident gait and his blade reflecting in the moonlight, he wouldn’t get any unwanted attention. He could defend himself easily if it came to that but he wasn’t there for a fight, he had some questions he needed answered . . .

He sensed more than heard movement behind him and instinct took over. He crouched low to the ground and growled a warning.

Drake immediately came out of the shadows, his hands held out in a gesture of peace. “Easy, Tristan, I need to talk to you.” His voice was quiet yet forceful. “But I must warn you, there may be -”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence because all hell broke loose.

“Tristan! Watch out!” A shrill female voice sounded in the night. Startled, both men turned to the voice and discovered a woman running toward them, her long red hair trailing behind her. “Aya.” Tristan whispered, shocked. Were all his dreams becoming reality? First Drake, then her?

As he watched, she raised both hands as if to ward off an attacker and, unexpectedly, fire erupted from her hands. The impact of the shot propelled her backwards and she knocked her head sharply on the asphalt. Just as he was going to run to her, Drake pulled him behind his body to shield him. “Don’t move!”
“Don’t give me orders!” Tristan snapped.
“This really isn’t the time, just stay behind me.”
“I don’t need you to protect me!” He suddenly realised that was what Drake was doing; shielding him, protecting him. And without his realising it, Drake had backed them into a wall, effectively shielding Tristan’s back also. He started shoving at the other man’s back. “Let me out of here.”
“Tristan, look!” Drake’s voice was tight, hard.

Tristan finally looked up to find a small man strutting confidently in their direction. He was bald and he seemed to be holding a flashlight of some kind in his right hand. A crackling sound reached Tristan’s ears and he cocked his head, trying to figure out the source of it. He focused his eyes on the man’s light and realised that was where the noise was coming from. Suddenly, the light began pulsing and Drake began muttering something about water, then the man brought his hand back, as if preparing to throw . . . “Drake!” Tristan warned hoarsely.
“I know!” Came the terse reply.
The man threw the static-sounding ball and Drake moved both he and Tristan impossibly fast. One second, they were back to the wall, the next, on the other side of the docking ramp. Tristan looked back to where they had been standing but the man was gone. “Where did he go?” he muttered and glanced swiftly over to Aya. The man was running toward her inert body. No!

Dizzy, nauseous, Aya painfully managed to raise her head and discovered that the smaller man she had blasted was running toward her, hand raised, a ball forming in his palm. Ahhh! She thought. That was it! I was born to save Tristan. He was probably destined for something great and now I can die with my mission accomplished. She’d instinctively known her whole life she’d eventually play a big part in his life. She hadn’t thought that dying for him was what Destiny had in mind for her, but she was willing, for him . . .

“Aya, roll!”

Surprised to hear her name on Tristan’s lips, she raised her eyes to him. She saw him running after the smaller man.

“Aya, roll! Move! NOW!”

She rolled on herself a few times then lifted her head just in time to see twin beams of ice shoot out of Tristan’s hands, into the attacker’s back, who abruptly disappeared without leaving any trace of his presence. She noticed the smouldering asphalt where the man’s ball connected, where her body had been a few seconds before. Dizziness washed over her and she leaned her forehead on the cold ground.

“Aya? Aya!”

She heard Tristan’s sneakers slap the ground as he ran to her, but couldn’t find the energy to raise her head to reassure him that she’d be alright. He gently touched her arm, turned her onto her back and cradled her head in his hand. She opened her eyes and stared into his beautiful gaze.

“Tristan,” she sighed, happy to know he was okay. Then she passed out.

Tristan lifted each of her hands in his free one and studied them carefully. There were no burn marks there. Had he imagined the fire she had shot? He shook his head. No way because that meant he would have imagined the ice beams shooting out of his own and he knew he hadn’t dreamt that. Tristan looked up as he felt Drake’s presence rapidly approaching them. “He could’ve killed her! Was this an ambush? Why did you need me for this? And why her?” His voice was hard, unforgiving. If something had happened to her . . . He mentally shook himself. If something had happened to her, what? He didn’t know her, she was a complete stranger to him. And yet . . . She wasn’t. He knew her, knew everything about her. But he had thought her only a figment of his imagination . . .
He looked back down to gaze at her peaceful features. Her skin was pale, the moon giving off a harsh light on her delicate face.

“I did not know that Aya would be here, Tristan. It wasn’t a set up, I swear it. Somehow, the Gods found out about my plans for you and they intervened. That’s what I tried to tell you but Aya screamed to us to watch out.”

Tristan glanced up, gave Drake a dubious look. “So what’s the plan now? Are we expecting another attack by these . . .” Tristan frowned. “I’m sorry. Did you say ‘Gods’? Is that an acronym?”
Drake sighed. “I’m afraid not and I don’t think they’ll be back tonight but I must get you both to safety.”

Tristan shifted position, then slid a hand under Aya’s legs and her neck and rose with her cradled in his arms. “I will get her to safety, I will take her home.”
“Do you know where she lives?”
Tristan thought about that for a minute but realised he had never gotten any indication that they lived in the same city, let alone her home address. “Do you?” He countered.
“Yes, actually, I do.” He held out his hands. “I’ll take her home.”
Tristan held on. “Tell me where it is and I’ll go.”
“And what are you going to do? Drop her on the front steps and hope she’ll be alright? Look, I have . . . ways of getting her to her room, safely. First, I want to take you to my home. Is that okay?”
“Why do you want to take me there?” Tristan eyed him suspiciously.
“Because we need to talk, do you agree? And it will be easier if we are in my protective wards.”
“Protective, what?” He shook his head. “Never mind. Look, if I go, she goes. She will want as much explanations as I do.”
“She will get them tomorrow. For now, she needs her rest.”
“I insist.” He raised his chin. “I know her, she will not like to wake up and think she imagined the whole thing.”
“I also insist and she will need to feel the comfort of her familiar surroundings when she wakes up and that is why I am taking her home.”

Drake took a step closer to Tristan, arms still outstretched and Tristan had to hold back the growl that threatened to escape his lips. What was wrong with him? One hour ago, he thought she’d been only a figment of his imagination and now he refused to let her go? “Just so we’re clear, I was against you bringing her home. You’ll tell her that, right?”
“I will.” He said as he carefully accepted Aya from Tristan’s arms. He stared down at her a second longer than Tristan was comfortable with. “First, I will take you to my home, then Aya to hers.”
Tristan looked around. “So where’s your car?”
“Don’t need one.” He met Tristan’s eyes and smiled. “Look around again.”

Tristan whistled, impressed. “How did you do that?”

They were no longer in the darkness behind the bowling alley. Instead, they were in a spacious bedroom, expensively decorated in beige and brown colours. Tristan turned to Drake with a cocked brow. “Sorry, but you’re not my type.”
Drake chuckled, still cradling Aya to him. “I thought that maybe you might like to relax a bit after the hour we’ve just spent.”
“Thanks but my mind’s too full of questions, I probably wouldn’t be able to sleep even if my life depended on it.”
“Suit yourself. I’m going to bring Aya and her car home, then I’m coming back and we can talk.”

After he left, Tristan headed straight for the bed, weary to the bone. He had expanded a great deal of energy out there with . . . the electric ball dude. He refused to call him a God. As he had done with Aya, he studied his palms but there was no evidence of what had happened back there, shooting ice and fire, attacked by a God? Was this one big dream his mind had concocted to escape dreams of Aya? If yes, it had failed because not only was she here, she was hurt!

He laid back on the bed and discovered how comfortable the mattress was. Against his will, less than a minute later, he was asleep.

Hey Tanya, I'm here to review (no duh)
Alright, let's get started on this one.

Nitpicks

“Rhee, Dad had a vision before . . . vanishing,” Drake spoke softly, “he says you’re in danger. We have to keep you and your mother hidden away. Do you understand?”

Okay here you put 'spoke softly'. What's another word for that? It's whisper! Try using some stronger words to express different emotions, I mean it sounds better and it's more professional...right?

“We don’t know. He asked us to protect you. We promised we would.”

Try not to use too many periods. We could change this to: "We don't know, he asked us to protect you and we promised we would."

But Aya isn’t tattooing it a bit . . . extreme?”

Ahahaha, they're just like my parents!

It was foretold, by whom nobody seemed to remember -or maybe it was never known- that for hundreds of years there would be an ongoing battle, the Clans vs. the Gods. One day, a baby would be born; a descendant of his last child that would inherit all of his powers and this child would have to bind with the clans to finally bring peace and balance to our world. This child would be recognizable by a birthmark that would, in time, become his sacred symbol.

Wow, I love this. Wonderful description, it gives us a glimpse of what's going on without going into every detail. Plus, I think it's cool.

slipped into her pyjamas and crawled into bed, praying for a dreamless night.

Pajamas.

yanked off her pyjamas,

note the above.

“Aya!” Tristan whispered.

I don't think you need an exclamation point if he whispered.

“Aya, roll! Move! NOW!”

normally, we'd try to stay away from capitalization but it seems to fit in this sentence.

“Tristan,” she sighed, happy to know he was okay. Then she passed out.

Bhahaa, I don't why but I pictured a dramatic 'passing out' scene here.
____________________________________
Overall
Okay awesome chapter, this was fun to read and it was full of action.
I'm really liking this Tristan character too, he's cool.
Although it's confusing me right now I'm sure it's going to be explained sooner or later so I'll keep reading this.
I suggest you work on your flow and some comma rules. I only spotted a few random mistakes but other than that, this was great.
Keep up the good work,

~Pink

Thank you, thank you, thank you! It was a great review with some great advice. Third chapter should be posted soon.

Tanya

Alright. Really sorry bout my delay. I have been very busy.
Senior research paper and all.
anywho. onto your review.

This chapter was very intense, but I feel as though there are some holes.
I think, when Aya wakes up from her dream, you should elaborate more on her urge to go to the bolling alley. I mean, I know I don't act on my dreams. So maybe mention that secret pull. Maybe?
I liked how you mentioned Tristan's confusion about his protectiveness over Aya even though he only thought she was a dream. Awesome. Kudos.
I'm not sure I really understand Drake's character. I hope he gets explained in chapter three.
I liked the action. Very nice touch.
The pace was well done, I think though, you can go back and even add more detail without going too far. But, that's just my overpushyself. Good job.
Pm me bout chapter three?

-Jayleigh

hi Jayleigh! Thanks a lot for the awesome review and you're forgiven any tardiness. lol

I haven't had the time yet to work out the reviews of these first two chapters although I have in the originals lol. Thanks a whole bunch and I will pm you when the third is out. Pm me for Breena 12?

Tanya

Yay!! Action packed chapter 2! I like it a whole bunch!

I think it's perfect this time, thanks for adding the mirror part, makes me believe in her a lot more!

I love all those little changes you did, Maybe she could be a little more surprised when she sees him there in the alley... But she doesn't have much time to be in shock there with all that's going on. I also agree with Jayleighsmith about the dream urging her into action, that might need a little more explaining.

I think that all these people are way better then me at giving advice so I'm quite glad about this website, never been there before tonight and I think it's awesome!

Good luck with the rest of it,
Keep on the good work my friend!

David! Thanks for coming online! You really are the best person (as per this particular story) to comment because you've read the first version and I really wanted to know if I was heading in the right direction. I haven't made the time yet to edit the first two chapters because December is really a busy month for me, but thanks to all those of you who have reviewed!!

Tanya

P.S. I have just posted chapter 3

Totally agree with David on the mirror part, it was really missing that part in the original version. So on behalf of another who has read the original, this one is much better, both for chapter 1 and 2. (Your first chapter page is blocked by the way)Everything is more realistic, rather than just some chain of events. I admit I hadn't noticed a lot at first