Assassins Revenge

Prologue

Prologue

I can still remember the way I felt that night. The way the air smelt and tasted. The burn in my throat and the knot in my stomach. I was seven years old when I saw my parents die. We had recently moved to a town house in St Petersburg. I never found out why we moved. My parents and I had lived in the same house since I was born, and then suddenly my father told us that we had to move away as quickly as possible. I woke to the smell of smoke, and I opened my eyes, alarmed by the unfamiliar smell. I looked to the crack in my door and saw slithers of gray stuff creeping under it. The hall light was on but I could barely see the reassuring glow, that kept away the booger-monsters, through the thick smoke. I lept out of bed, put my furry slippers and dressing gown on, and left my bedroom. I still didn't know the layout of this humongous house as it was my first night there so I had some trouble finding my parents.

“Mama! Papa!” I cried in Russian. I was on the landing of the second floor and looked around wildly for an exit. I was felt dizzy and weak, probably from all of the smoke I had inhaled. I could barely see where I was going as I stumbled through the house. I started to feel disorientated and couldn't remember which way I had just come from, when a door to my left opened and my father came hurrying out. He had ash on his face and clothes, and a nasty looking cut on his forehead that was bleeding. A lot. He saw me stood on the landing and bent down in front of me. He placed his hands on my shoulders and shook me.

“Listen to me, Amelia.” he said. His voice sounded shaky and I started to cry even harder. “You've got to get out of the house. Get out and run as far away as possible and don't look back. Begi! ya tebya lyublyu, Mia! Run!”

He hugged me one last time and shoved me in the direction of the staircase. I flew out of the door and sprinted as fast as my little legs would carry me down the street.

I got to about halfway down the street and collapsed, despite my fathers orders. My little body had taken too much. I'd inhaled too much smoke and done more running than I'd ever done in my short seven years. My heart beat so fast that it hurt, and I felt myself starting to hyperventilate. My mother and father were back there in that burning house, probably trapped somewhere and burning alive. Why hadn't they saved themselves? Why hadn't my father followed me out of the house, instead of going back in? "Why" was a big part of my life now, yet I was never allowed to utter that one syllable. I lied there for two minutes, which felt like two hours, when my house exploded. I watched, as if time had slowed down, as giant orange flames licked the outside of the house, like a hot flaming cage encasing it. Fire was everywhere. It was on the grass outside the house, spilling out of the windows, climbing up the brick walls. It seemed alive almost. Car alarms burst into life all down the street, and my scream was drowned out by the alarms and the massive crash and bang from the explosion. The last thing I remembered before passing out was a mass of orange, red and yellow. A couple of days later I woke up in a childrens home. No one would tell me anything about my parents, they acted like nothing had happened. They were so convincing that I almost believed them. Almost. I had a smart mind for an almost eight year old, and I told myself to remember that night. I didn't care that no one believed me that my parents had been blown up. I was going to wait until I was old enough, and then find out why they died. And then I was going to take revenge. Even if it killed me too.

The home I stayed in was awful. The carers were a couple of child abusing fat slobs who didn't do anything but watch TV and take their anger out on the occasional kid. The kids themselves were a bunch of bullies. They tried to push me down the stairs once, instead I sidestepped their tackle and they themselves went flying down them. The kids left me alone after that. For the two months that I was there, I kept my head down and stayed out of trouble. On my birthday a man came to see me.

He said that his name was Ivan Orvblok, and he was going to take me away, somewhere safe. I followed him without question. As I look back on it now, I should have followed him with question. But his eyes...they were so hypnotic. They were a stormy gray and whenever I looked into them I just did what he said. Ivan was about 50, and had thick gray hair to match his eyes. He looked like a rich grandfather with his cashmere scarf and designer coat.

He took me to America where he said I would be safe. Ivan told me that he owned a school, where other kids without parents lived and went to school. I'd have friends there and people who would know what I was going through. Nine years later and I was still there, and top of my game.

Orvblok's Institute was a different type of school. It only had a small student body, but was largely successful. It was basically an Academy that taught kids like me how to kill. Yeah, you heard me. Kill. It was a school for Vampiric Assassins. I know it sounds cliché, but it's the truth. Ivan Orvblok would research different families and track down those with the Vampiric gene, and bring them here to be taught. I was the only one here with no parents.

We still learned all of the basics, like English, Math, Science, History, etc. but we also learned machine weaponry, combat, alchemy, phycology. Everything you need to know to be an assassin. The turning into the vampire side was a whole different endeavor. The gene kicks in at about twelve years old, and everything in your body changes. Your canines gets longer and sharper, your fingernails grow, reflexes are sharper, you become uncomfortable in the sunlight, and you become more beautiful and deadly. Yeah that might all sound cool, but the worst thing is the blood cravings. About once a week you've got to drink about three glasses of blood, otherwise you could go crazy and kill someone. Fun. If all that wasn't enough, Vampires always get a supernatural kind of power. For example, my friend Skarlett is Psychic, my best friend Violet can control the element air, and I can control water. Cool right? Ego stroking side, I'm better than everyone else. I'm driven by thought of revenge of my parents, and to get out and see the world. I've never been out of the Institute since my parents death, and I desperately craved to see new places. So, as long as I was here, I was going to prove myself. Over and over again.