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The Discarded Book 1

The Umbrae Lunae existed before man, beautiful abominations birthed in the nightmares of mad gods. They wait for humanity to misstep, for the angels to look away. For the moment when they can cloak the world in moon shadows once again. But even horrors have children. Even nightmares must feed. One child, unlike the others, finds his way to a school for young abominations. Will he be a sheep cast before the wolves, or a terror that wears the skin of wool to entice the wolf close? The flesh of his body was his only coin, strips cut to pay debts that never ended. Everyone has scars, stories in a life led, lessons learned, and licks taken. Luminous bodies touched by darkness. There are a cursed few that are the opposite, black shadows consumed by scars, twisted minds devoured by diseased hungers, bodies tortured misshapen works of gouged flesh, silver lines of blade thin cuts, ragged tears of teeth and glass. For them, the scars are marks of homecoming, the mangled wasteland the only place they feel at peace. Hell is a place. It's made of concrete, steel and glass. It's the sounds of starving kids crying themselves to sleep, huddling into small balls as creepers come and take their due of innocence and tender meat. It's eating rotten food and carrying ticks in your hair. It’s having no one and nothing while surrounded by everything. It's the life of a street kid. What abomination was birthed in the corrupt womb of man’s cast-off shit? Pretty people don't know the power of ugly. They can't see the strength in a broken soul or the power in a calloused heart. Those secrets are for the discarded alone. Only the broken understand the grace of darkness. The blessed folds that hide scars and tears, the protection of its concealing umbra.

UncleanSoul · Fantasi
Peringkat tidak cukup
165 Chs

The Reject Chapter 6 - 1

Wednesday December 31st 2014

Deep in his kata, thoughts skittered in the outer darkness beyond the bubble of awareness. Malformed needs of the future slunk at the edge of the mind's eye. Past humiliations and horrors of memories oozed from shadow to shadow. He'd spent hours in this room, with its tall windows and bright sunlight. Chris hadn't shown himself since that first day, whatever insight the fighter had on Hog would stay his.

Ramona walked into the exercise room as she'd done every day. No matter when he started, she always came when he was at his limits. Cesare wasn't sure if she kept that close an eye on him or if she was just a good guesser. Either way, he'd started winding down when she showed.

In barely distinguishable increments, Cesare slowed his movements, gradually coming up from his trance. Slowly he pulled as much of the peace of the trance as he could, sheathing his mind in the trances fast rotting flesh. Ramona would wait, this wasn't an alarm clock of when to stop, it was his call to dinner.

Finishing the kata with a deep breath, Cesare absently caught the towel Ramona tossed his way. Turning to her, he scrubbed down his face and hair. Almost black with sweat, the new hoodie clung to his body, dripping his leavings on the floor. The new jeans molded to his legs, blooms of sweat expanding across them.

Ramona's eyes ran over him, glints of arousal swimming in a sea of calculation. "Candy dropped this off for you," she said, tossing him a fat white envelope.

Snatching the thick paper out of the air, Lady Kali had written him back. "She said it was from a school friend."

A flood of anticipation rushed through him. Taking a deep breath, he held back from reading it there. "I plan to go back to school on Sunday."

Smiling, Ramona shifted her hips, drawing the eye to her suddenly tight shirt and athletic breasts. "She said something about that."

"You don't seem worried." He'd expected more of an explosion, given she was losing a fighter. Maybe some hate for leaving after she'd spent money on him. Something other than easy acceptance.

"I told you, you're a long-term investment. Go back to school and have fun. Get your diploma, play with kids that have homes, moms, dads, and lives you'll never touch. You'll never get the hunger out of your blood, the need to fight, the adrenaline rush of having everything on the line. We didn't make you a fighter, we only gave you a place to fight. And when you come back, you'll know I treated you right."

Cesare shared a smile with her as it came together. She wasn't looking to lock him in or hold him here. She was betting he wouldn't be able to stay away from the tainted grace of the cage, that the savagery of crippling kids for green had sunk its hooks deep enough that he couldn't pull them out. Like any drug dealer, once you'd taken that first hit, they knew you'd be back.

Giving him a knowing smile, she turned to the door with an extra sway to her hips. "It's dinnertime." Hesitating, Cesare looked down at the letter. Looking over her shoulder, she smirked at Cesare. "You can bring the letter."

The wolf slipped between Cesare and Ramona. She was good looking with a nice body, but that didn't mean much to Cesare. The world was full of woman who looked good, few were the ones that could warm your soul and give you a reason to fight the searing light of day.

Chris was already digging into dinner when Cesare walked into the room. Most of the swelling had gone down, leaving him battered but less like hamburger left out too long. Looking between them, Ramona reassured herself no one was going to start a fight before taking her seat next to Chris.

Cesare loaded his plate with steak, ham, and roast beef, along with a heap of sweet potatoes. As he filled his plate, Cesare took the steak plate and set it on the sofa, he'd feed that to the wolf.

"Hey, I wasn't done with that." Chris' spiteful eyes ran over Cesare, a smirk playing across his torn lips. "Where I come from, animals wait there turn."

The bond tickled as champagne bubbles of effervescent laughter rolled down it, the wolf laughing at the man's words. Animals are true and steady; they know their place in the world and they keep to it. They kill for food, dominance, and territory, not for paper they don't need and land they'll never walk. You'd need to call it human if you wanted to insult the midnight beast.

"Where the wolf comes from, the people are the food." Cesare barred his teeth in the bastard brother of a smile. Holding the man's eyes, Cesare offered a large piece of steak to the wolf. Taking it from his hands with a care that still surprised, the wolf snapped it down in one gulp.

Ramona cut in, deliberately breaking the stare down between the two fighters. "The Governor has a New Year's party tonight," Ramona said, catching Cesare's eye. "They invite all the circuit fighters and their managers. I'd like you to come, it'll be a chance for you to impress the Governor outside the cage. Who you fight and how much money you make isn't based just on how good a fighter you are ...."

"Which is a damn good thing for you," Chris sniped into the conversation.

Glaring at the man, Ramona continued, "How good of a fighter you are is important, but it's not everything. Your image, how you carry yourself, playing to the crowd, and if the Governor likes you is the rest. Going tonight will let them know you'll play ball." Seeing Cesare hesitate, she pushed forward, "It could be the difference of thousands. All you have to do is come and mingle."

Cesare resisted the urge to tell her to fuck off. He would stick out; he knew it, and he'd never stuck out in a good way. He'd be the entertainment they laughed at, a dancing bear for their fun. But Ramona was right. You didn't get ahead by being the best, but by knowing the right people.

Ignoring Chris's gleeful grin, Cesare nodded. "Okay. Let me take a shower first."

Ramona reassured him that he had all the time he needed, after all she hadn't even started getting ready. Retreating to his room, Cesare took the extra time to get a long shower in. As the water ran over his body, he thought how much he didn't want to do this, cringed at the thought of being the freak in a sideshow attraction for a party of shit humans. He wanted to meditate and head down to the hot tub for a long soak with the wolf.

Sighing, the steam billowed in soft misty clouds as he got out of the shower. The wolf's feral eyes met his through the mist, its sense hard and fast through the bond. It couldn't help with his choice, but it could be there. Thrumming through the bond was the unshakable promise that no matter where he went tonight, it would be by his side.

Tension eased out of his muscles at the declaration. It wasn't that he'd forgotten the wolf would be there, but a life spent alone wasn't whitewashed in a few days.

Cesare sat down on the floor, the wolf stretching out next to him. If he knew Ramona, it would be awhile before she came for him. With his back to the sofa and the wolf beside him, Cesare flipped through channels on the T.V. True to his prediction, it was over an hour before a hurried knock sounded at his door. Flowing to his feet, Cesare stretched the kinks out before going to the door.

Ramona seemed to pose in the threshold as he opened the door. Her black cocktail dress left her shoulders and arms free, white petals fell down the left side, a stain of corruption across the pure midnight of the dress. Molded to her athletic body, it accented the swells of her perky breasts, displaying a healthy expanse of temptingly soft skin. Long, wavy brown hair cascaded down her back in a silky waterfall.

"Like what you see, tiger?" Ramona asked with a teasing smile tugging at her lips. "I took longer than I thought to get ready, and we're already late. Chris is bringing the car around; I'll meet you downstairs."

Cesare exchanged a grin with the wolf before they sprinted in a mad dash for the stairs. The wolf hit the open door first, why it was open was up for debate. The world was different around the wolf, reality and chance turned into kissing cousins, twisted in an incestuous embrace.

Leaping down the stairs, Cesare was so far behind he couldn't even see the wolf. Sometimes it kept just ahead, taunting and teasing him with victory. Other times, like now, it blew past him in a dominant display of speed.

Sitting at the bottom of the staircase, tongue lolling out in a lupine grin, it was the picture of innocent joy. No matter how fast it was or how much it pulled away from him, it always waited. It was almost as if it was driving a point home, out of sight and hidden didn't mean it wasn't waiting for him to catch up.

Opening the door for the wolf, Cesare followed it into the lobby. The room fell silent, parents grabbing children and pulling them tight as the wolf stalked across the room. Even the employees stared at the two of them, unconsciously backing away from murderous air swirling around them.

The black SUV idled against the curb with Ramona already in the passenger seat. Opening the back, Cesare saw Chris had forgotten to put the seats down. The fighter watched Cesare through the rear-view mirror, a grin tugging at his lips.

"Sorry man, I didn't want to wrinkle my suit," Chris said as Cesare closed the back of the SUV.

The off the rack black suit looked good on Chris's muscled frame. He'd shaved and done something with his hair to give it a shape other than fuck off. He still looked like he'd gone a few rounds with the stairs, but it added a rugged charm to his looks.

Cesare was in his new clothes, faded jeans and washed out gray hoodie. Ramona had gone shopping to cement Cesare's image, not get him formal wear. Maybe it was better for Cesare to be in the image he'd carry into the cage. Or maybe it would paint him as even more the freak.

Stretching in every direction, the streets were clogged with red lights. Everyone had somewhere to go, each absorbed in their world of dreams. Consumed by their bubbles of self-importance, they thought only where they wanted to be uncaring of where they were. Chris drove the way he fought, aggressive and angry, with an eye getting ahead. Managing the pedals, Chris swerved in and out of lanes, cutting off cars, lapping up the angry horns that sounded around him. The traffic eased as the car made its smooth ascent into the gentrified area.

Long lines of McMansions dotted the sides of the streets. Packed close together, lots bulged at the seams, struggling to contain the bad taste and extravagant needs of the wanna be wealthy. The yards had long been sacrificed for bigger houses and thicker fences. This wasn't a place for the rich, this was the playground of posers who wanted to be rich. If you squinted hard, and lacked anything like good taste, you might think the abortions dotting the street were mansions.

Chris parked the vehicle along the curb behind a long line of parked cars. Going around the SUV, the fighter opened Ramona's door. Cesare and the wolf stepped out from the back, pulling in a deep breath of cold December air as they quietly took in the brightly lit houses that ran up and down the block.

There was an obscenity to the houses, with their tall fences and crass lights. Like mounds of rotting flesh decorated in tinsel. Monuments to greed and avarice, they exposed the hollow hearts of the cadaver's roaming their halls. Need ruled here, gluttony the one true god, each house a temple to rapacious appetite.

Cesare fell in behind Chris and Ramona as they walked down the sidewalk. The house was a block down and gave the reason Chris had parked so far away. It didn't have parking, not even a driveway.

Thick hedges hid it from view, with only a small wooden gate opening into the compound. Chris held the side gate for Ramona, letting it fall back into place as he walked through. Shaking his head at the petty move, Cesare opened the door for the wolf. Warping around the beast, the world flowed into paradox, allowing the massive creature through the narrow entrance.

A bare few flag stones were laid between the house and the gate, with barely a handful of feet between hedge and house. A door stood open in invitation, light blazing into the night and across the small gap. There was no sight of Chris or Ramona, both having disappeared into the house.

Following behind the wolf, Cesare stopped on the threshold as he took in the room. Despite the best of intentions, he was drawn tight as a stranglers wire. The door had led them into the belly of the beast.

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