Awakening (The Immortals Saga Book 1)

  Awakening

  Book One in the Immortals Saga

  Peter Gulgowski

  Contents

  Also By Peter Gulgowski

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Author’s Note

  Text Copyright © 2018 by Peter Gulgowski

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Gulgowski, Peter

  Awakening / by Peter Gulgowski

  Summary: Dying in a hospital, twenty-year-old, James Holloway is granted a final chance at life by becoming a vampire. Beginning a new life, he learns dark forces lurk alongside him while working with a group of fellow vampires.

  First Edition Ebook Printing, May 2018

  Also By Peter Gulgowski

  The Government

  A Casual Silence

  The Bionics

  The Voting Game

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  Dedicated to you, the reader.

  Prologue

  i WAS ALWAYS told that with age comes wisdom.

  There is truth to that, of course, but imagine your life to be an hour-glass, with the grains of sand representing every single second, falling through; passing on.

  Now, imagine if that sand stopped falling.

  Time was frozen, yet all around you, you knew it continued moving forward.

  Well, you’d be me.

  I’ve been allowed to age for much longer than you, and even with that, I still don’t feel that much wiser than I did long ago.

  My name is James Holloway, and I look twenty — the age I was when I was turned.

  Between you and me, I have looked twenty for — well — a while.

  Underneath my chiseled physique and neatly combed, jet-black hair and beard — the face of my twenty-year-old facade — is a soul much older than represented.

  I’ve lived a life to be written about, but not many know of my existence.

  I was supposed to be dead in 1912.

  I’m not.

  Well, I should clarify that I’m not exactly living either.

  It’s a confusing world I exist in, and I’m not going to pretend to convince you that I have any idea of who I am either, but I have been able to make sense of a bit of what has become my life.

  I’d love to tell you, if you will let me?

  Here’s the story of how I came to be; the story of what I’ve become.

  Let’s go back to the beginning…

  1

  April 15, 1912 2:24 A.M.

  BREATHS COME IN searing gasps.

  Thoughts flash in mere fragments too, as ice water wraps itself around every inch of my skin, tearing into my flesh with the force of millions of tiny needles.

  Around me, others struggle to keep to the surface, with some pushing others aside. A few cling to floating debris while some hold on to other bodies of those already dead. Screams of people calling for help echo beneath the cloudless night.

  From nowhere, I try to join in, but no sound comes out.

  I’m too cold…

  As my limbs grow numb, the prickling sensation on my skin is beginning to subside.

  The pain is fading, but I keep swimming.

  For the first time since she went down, I swim towards the last place I saw her as she sank from beneath us.

  Titanic

  As I force myself through the water, dodging other swimmers, I find a large barrel bobbing in the swirling water.

  As fast as my arms move, I reach out, clinging to it with what little strength I have left. I take a deep breath.

  In…

  My body trembles.

  Out…

  And in that exhale, I try lifting myself as high as I can to get my torso out of the water. My legs kick as I thrust my chest over the top of the curved barrel. Beneath my weight, it sinks a half-foot, but it’s enough that the water reaches only to my waist.

  It’ll have to do.

  Others around me, wearing white lifejackets, cling to deck-chairs and driftwood, while others remain motionless, with their chins pressing against the top of their lifejackets. The cries for help are fading, and around me, the sea is becoming quiet once more.

  In the distance, lights from a surrounding lifeboat flicker.

  Just hold on, James.

  A little while longer…

  My breaths tremble with each exhalation, but I manage to take hold of my thoughts once again. My body desperately wants to move, but I keep it still, fearing falling back into the sea.

  Movement around me continues to slow and then stop. More and more bodies become lifeless; their hair matted with ice formations, skin pale and blue.

  One by one.

  Two by two…

  Soon, I’ll be next. I know that now. It’s just a matter of time.

  From behind me though — I’m not sure how far — a distinct yell cries, “Return…the boats!”

  As we continue drifting beneath trillions of blazing stars which fill the moonless night, I force myself to stay positive.

  At this point, other than my barrel, it’s all I have. But somewhere inside, I know there aren’t going to be any boats. As I knew to be true moments prior, I’ll be next.

  Those around me look like they are peacefully at rest.

  I pray they are.

  I pray I will be too.

  Mere minutes pass and now the only sound is the faint lapping of water at the surrounding debris.

  Will they come back?

  Am I the only one left?

  It’s quiet. No more screams. No more cries.

  Just silence.

  My muscles are stiff, and my torso trembles as I turn to see hundreds of bodies around me floating in different positions.

  Not one of them is living.

  However, from the corner of my eye, a faint light reflects off the water. I see it clearly now. Yes! The light illuminates my pale hand.

  Again, I turn towards the light, and it’s blinding. My ears pick up sound.

  “…hear me? Is…anyone alive out here…?”

  A lifeboat!

  They came back!

  I pray they’ll hear me, and that I’m not hallucinating. Then, with a surge of desperation, I drop myself back into the freezing water and begin splashing as hard as I can.

  I try to yell out, but the only sounds that come out are a barely audible, hoarse cry.

  The light is coming nearer. I can feel it on my face, like sunlight on a bright day.

  I try yelling out.

  Again, I fail.

  I keep splashing though my arms are growing weak. I won’t be able to keep this up for long.

  The light is the brightest it’s been.

  “There he is!” a distant voice sounds.

  “Get him in,” yells another.

  “…Help…”
I finally get out, though they still can’t hear me. “P—Please.”

  I’m still alive! Please. I want to live! I want to live!

  The water swirls around me once again as the large, low-riding boat comes nearer. Bodies bob along the sides as it glides through the water. My arms relax while I kick to keep myself afloat.

  “It’s alright, mate. I’ve got you!” says another voice, just as arms wrap around my torso and lift me out of the icy sea.

  “Get the lad in! For the love of God!” one of the voices says.

  After that, I hit the bottom of the lifeboat, and my right side presses against the base of it. The sound of moving water is faint and dull between the wooden boards.

  I’m then draped in a blanket, and a set of hands begin to rub my feet. I haven’t felt them for several minutes.

  “Keep ‘im warm,” another voice says.

  Their faces are nameless and blank to me. I see nothing but dark outlines against an even darker night sky.

  My body continues to shiver while another figure drapes a coat over me. It’s warm and I savor it.

  “Just keep the boy warm,” he continues.

  I try to speak my gratitude, but my voice falters. A woman beside me places a hand onto me. “Hush, now. Rest. You’re safe.”

  Beneath the abyss of stars, I find myself seeking the furthest and deepest, and somewhere between here and there, my eyes close and everything goes dark.

  2

  mY VISION IS hazy, like I’m lying in a smoky room.

  I struggle to keep my eyes open, feeling the weight of my eyelids against them. My throat is dry, and my body burns beneath a tight restraint of blankets.

  My breath becomes steadier, but it hurts to take them in deeply, so I do my best to keep my breaths short but sufficient.

  Turning my head, I catch a glance of a few other people around me. The room is quiet and unmoving. A few people lying in beds identical to mine are asleep while one older man is propped up and reading a newspaper.

  Lying there, I raise my hand to my face, placing the back of my hand on my forehead. It’s cold and damp.

  The sensation of heat trapped inside my body becomes clearer as I awaken, and it becomes clear I must have a fever.

  The last time I woke up, early this morning, I felt slightly better than I do now.

  When I’m about to shut my eyes again, a nurse walks in carrying a white basin with a rag draped over the sides.

  “Oh, good,” she says, “You’re alert.”

  I swallow a stiff lump and my throat burns as it passes down. “…How long have I been here?” I finally manage to get out.

  “Since Thursday night,” she says, wiping my forehead with the damp rag. “Do you have any memory of what happened?”

  “Of course,” I say. “They did the best they could on the other ship,” I say. “I’m grateful.”

  She nods, taking the rag and running it through the water in the basin. With two hands she then wrings it out, and I watch as the water droplets fall back into the bowl.

  “Did you have any family onboard?” she then asks.

  I shake my head. “I was alone. My mother and father died eight months ago.”

  She pauses cooling me down to express her condolences. “You have my sympathy.”

  I nod in acknowledgment. “Thank you.”

  “I’m going to get you some water and check on another patient. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  Again I nod, my throat in too much pain to speak.

  She sets down the basin on a table beside my bed, and I exhale softly; my eyes shutting, but then, from behind, I hear a soft thump against the window.

  There’s a clicking and then another pause.

  I try my best to sit up and as I do, I turn to see the window now opened, and a man in a long black wool coat crawls through, putting one foot after the other onto the cream-colored floor.

  I turn to the man who’s awake, reading the paper, but he doesn’t stir.

  Am I hallucinating?

  As the man steps beside my bed, his dark eyes — a deep crimson — look at me. His skin is a chalky pale with only faint gray lines crowning his eyes. Grayish-brown hair is combed neatly to one side, and he’s clean-shaven.

  I say nothing.

  Not because I don’t want to, but because I’m struck by his presence. There’s something that grabs hold of my own gaze and won’t let go.

  “Greetings,” he says silkily.

  I’m sure I stare at him wide-eyed.

  From within the armhole of his coat, he extends his long-fingered hands, with long nails curving to a point.

  He steps closer.

  My breath is caught in my chest.

  And while my eyes remain with his, he gently places a hand against my forehead and it feels as though he’s holding a piece of ice against my skin.

  “A shame,” he says softly to himself.

  “Who are you?” I manage to get out.

  “It’s always that question with your sort,” he says amused. “My name is Magnus.”

  Something from within compels me to reply. “My name is — ”

  “James,” he says suddenly, but soft.

  I nod my head.

  With his index finger, he points to his temple, revealing a platinum white smile of sharp and strong teeth.

  “You can…”

  “Yes,” he replies before I can say, ‘read minds.’

  “You’re not going to survive, my dear James,” he says to me. “Everyone knows it. Even you, I believe.”

  “And how do you know?”

  Magnus smiles to me, revealing his teeth again. “If you’re like me, you just have a gift for knowing such facts. Besides, you’re too good to just let die.”

  I’m unsure of what to say. I pause a moment, thinking a nurse will come in at any second, but they don’t.

  It’s just Magnus and I.

  “I can save you,” he says. “You’re so close to death, dear James. So close indeed.”

  “How do you know this?” I press. “I haven’t died yet.”

  “Again, I have ways of knowing this,” he says. “Like I said, you’re too good to let die. I can save you.”

  I look to him, my eyes focusing on me. Something within tells me to trust him. Perhaps he has some medicine or a cure? My thoughts aren’t rational. Normally, I’d be terrified of a stranger telling me this, but something about him — a mysterious force — brings me to trust him.

  I do.

  “Save me,” I say. “Please.”

  Suddenly, he grabs hold of me, and his body lurches forward, biting into my neck. I try to scream, but my body is instantly paralyzed.

  I can’t scream.

  I can’t think…

  A sudden surge of fire enters my bloodstream, tearing through every tiny corridor and alleyway of my being before suddenly, I feel a change in movement. It’s only noticeable to me now, but I can feel my blood moving upwards and out now.

  My eyelids tremble, and only a soft groan escapes my mouth.

  Magnus’ breath is icy cold on my skin as he continues digging his teeth into my neck. Suddenly, he leans back, his formerly white teeth now stained a shade of red.

  I collapse against my bed.

  “You remind me of someone,” he says scrutinizing me and wiping a trail of my blood away from his lip. “Yes... it’s been some time, but you do. Very handsome — strong features. I saw your picture in the papers, and I needed to see you in the flesh…”

  “Just kill me,” I finally am able to say.

  “I was going to,” he says, revealing his true motive. “After all, you were so close to death, but I mustn’t waste potential.”

  Again, he grabs hold of me and digs his teeth into my neck. The pain is less this second time. The burning is now only faint, like a tapping rainfall that you only notice if you listen closely.

  It’s in this moment I realize he’s taking me nearer to death. My body is shutting down. I still can’t fight ba
ck, my body frozen in time.

  Sounds are now silent.

  Sights are now dark.

  Not much left.

  My breaths escape, strained and weak, while visions come to me with significant gaps of black in between.

  This is it.

  Then, just when I pray it to be over, he steps back slowly before leaning in to kiss my forehead.

  “Good luck, dear James,” he says coolly.

  Footsteps from the hallway echo and in that same second, Magnus turns towards the window and starting into a run, he vanishes like a ghost; invisible and impossibly fast.

  I turn to the open door where my nurse stands, open mouthed.

  “Mid-April and you’ve opened the window! It’s no shock you’re so sick!”

  My body is trembling, and though I’m still numb, I can feel a lingering drop of warm blood — my blood — trailing down my neck and beneath my shirt.

  She hurries over, pulling the window closed before turning back to me. When she does, she gasps and her hand covers her mouth. “What in God’s name happened to you?”

  “Nurse,” the man on the other side of the room interjects, laying his newspaper in his lap, “a glass of water, please?”

  The last thing I remember in that same minute is my head landing atop my pillow, taking me into a dreamless sleep.

  3

  tHE DARKEST HOUR of the night arrives and finds me newly awoken, lying in my bed.

  Plumes of fire rush through my blood, driven by the natural force of living. My breathing is slowed and steady, but the rest of me feels even closer to death than before. The burning sensation in my veins runs through the body-length maze, like a flowing river of lava.