Mickael's sword - Carina Prince book 1

Chapter 1

I used to sing in public since I was a little girl. My mother was the village minister. Everyone seemed to love my voice. Accompanied by my guitar, I would perform musical interludes. I was always nervous before every ceremony. Even now, at the age of seventeen, I couldn't control that ball of stress in my stomach.

That Sunday morning, I never imagined when I woke up that I would meet someone.

At the end of the service, I was singing a personal composition I had called 'Give Me The Faith' when everything happened. It had happened so fast that I still couldn't really understand it. I was standing in front of the microphone on its stand. My mother was looking at me. Her eyes were shining as usual whenever I hummed. Suddenly, behind me, I heard the glass break. Then two strong hands grabbed me. I had no time to react. I felt a blade cut me in the neck. Then the man in charge stuck his tongue in my wound. Was he drinking my blood?

I could not move. I was completely petrified.

Did vampires exist? I didn't know how many creatures fed on blood. No, maybe it was just some unbalanced person who had watched too many TV shows.

In front of me, the people who had come to attend the service shouted. It took me a few moments to remember the retaliatory gestures from the anti-bullying course the literature teacher had given us in high school. I kicked his foot with my heel. Unfortunately for me, he didn't react. I should have worn heels instead of those little summer flats. They would have been more effective.

My guitar was in the way, and I had to get out of the grip of whoever was behind me. It had to be a boy, because I could feel the tingle of an unshaven beard with every lick.

Had my time come so quickly in my life? I felt like grumbling. I still hadn't really enjoyed all that was available to me, and I was going to die in the house of the Lord. No, honestly, it was pretty lame.

Suddenly, as I tried to struggle, I heard the sound of a gun. I felt as if time had just stood still. The man behind me staggered and finally let me go. I stumbled and hit the altar. Rather than get up and run away, I turned around to see my attacker's face.

I was mad. Why the curiosity at that moment? What about the survival instinct?

He was tall, quite big. He was wearing blue jeans and a white t-shirt that was gradually turning black. I wasn't an expert, but blood was rarely this dark. In films or TV shows it was quite red.

Maybe I had trouble distinguishing colours because of my injury? I didn't know. Anyway, it was a bit strange.

'Carina!' My mother called.

She was pointing a gun at my attacker. How could a pious woman like her have a gun? It didn't look like her at all. Where did she get it? Why had I never seen it before? And above all, where did she learn to aim? From where she was, she could have shot me if she hadn't been accurate.

My mother was quite tall. She flicked her blond hair back to make sure she wasn't disturbed. Her blue eyes were determined to shoot down whoever had dared to attack me.

It was the first time I had seen my mother so angry.

'Mum.' I said in a very weak voice. 'What is it?'

'No time for questions.' She replied, joining me by the altar.

She put her hand on my wound.

'Is your neck okay?'

I had no idea. Like every time I was injured, I felt like I was bleeding to death, but that wasn't true.

The man who had broken into the church and assaulted me was standing by the lectern. He was holding his shoulder from which his black, or very dark-red blood was sticking. I wasn't sure of myself anymore. Maybe I was dreaming.