Vital - Book 1 (On hold: to be rewritten)

1. Shadows

There was a brief knock on the door. Wren threw down the book she’d been holding and went to open it, sighing irritably. A little girl with blonde plaits and closed eyes stood in the doorway. She looked about nine. 

"What?" Wren asked, arms folded. The girl didn’t respond. Instead, her large eyes opened. But they weren't usual eyes. They were endless black tunnels, dark and wide. Wren wheeled backwards into her room. The little girl snarled, and leaped across the room into a corner, leading on all fours. Still on hands and knees, she advanced, teeth bared. 

"You are one of us, Wren. You don't belong in this world." 

Wren looked around wildly for something, anything, to fend off the hideous creature before her. But nothing came to hand. She tried to scream as the beast came towards her, but nothing came out. The girl leaped forward, and the world went dark.

The scene disintegrated, and Wren sat up, panting and sweating, sheets in a twisted mess at her feet. It was just a dream. Not real. 

These dreams were recurring. Wren put it down to her powers. Usually, she would get up and sit on the window sill, watching the cars and taxis creep by. It was relaxing and took her mind off the dream.

But tonight was not usual. Every time she had the dream, she would always manage to kill the creature in her dream; with a lamp, a book, a chair. But tonight, she hadn’t. She didn't know what she meant, only that it scared her. Tonight her room felt stuffy and enclosed. 

Shrugging on her hoodie over the clothes that she was still wearing and pulling on her worn blue DMs, she slipped the through the open window, landing lightly on the pavement below. It was dark and drizzling, the light from the street lamps blurred by the rain. She could see each falling raindrop with absolute clarity, clear and glittering as it fell though the air and hit the pavement. She pushed her hood up over the curtain of dark brown hair, staring at the wet road beneath her feet. A police siren wailed in the distance. 

As she turned onto Carlton Avenue, she stopped dead. A dark, shadowy figure dressed all in black was standing in the spotlight of a streetlamp, facing away from her. It was a boy, slim and dark skinned. His hair was hidden by a hood. He turned suddenly, fixing a pair of dark blue eyes directly on her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she caught sight of what he was holding. A silver knife, gleaming in the yellow light. He was turning it over and over in his hands. He grinned maliciously. 

Wren’s heart threw itself against her chest. She looked down at the pavement and hurried on, feeling the boy’s gaze digging into her back.

She turned into a deserted cafe a few streets down, picking a booth near the rain spattered windows. 

"Can I get you anything?" A tired looking waitress arrived at the booth. Wren scanned the laminated menu for a second. She could see the blue outlines of previous finger prints covering the card. 

"Just a cappuccino, please." She didn't look at the waitress. She scribbled on a pad of paper and stalked off. Wren sat back, eyes closed. She looked up as the bell on the door tinkled. A shadowy figure stepped into the cafe, wearing a long leather, sleeveless coat, the hood drawn up around his face, underneath which he wore a black t-shirt and pair of black jeans. He threw himself down into a booth, looking at Wren through a lock of dark brown hair. Wren’s stomach flipped. It was the boy.

The waitress came by with her coffee and went to serve the boy, who was sitting in the booth opposite her. He spoke quietly, without taking his eyes of Wren. She panicked. She could run, she supposed, but she didn't have to see it to believe that the boy would be faster, or, at the very least, be able to keep up with her. Her powers did give her the ability to run pretty fast.