The Search for the Fallen Angel by James Gough (best contemporary novels .txt) 📖

  Out of all the things i have ever heard of, I would have never guessed that they were real. That they were not just a dream of a made up story for a comic; but real. Like breathing creatures of the night and day, able to walk on this planet, able to kill.

A few weeks ago, I would of never believed that there was such things as vampires, werewolves, warlocks, or even demons, until i was attacked on my home from a funneral by a vampire. It had sunk its fangs deep into the heap of my neck. I would of died if it wasn't for a tall, muscular shadow that swept down from the building above and shoved a small, white dagger into the back of its neck.

Well at the time, i thought it was all a dream, until i woke up in a different bed, a different room, in a different place. Well my name is Damon, and this is my story about the strange world of the Shadow Hunters.

  Damon woke up with a headache and a feeling that all his blood had been drained from his body. When his eyes finally adjusted to the bright light escaping from a series of windows across the room, he rose up and slowly took in his new found surroundings. The room defiantly was not his; this one was alot bigger in size. There were long, black shades that attached to each window; a large book shelf ran along the wall that was filled with all sorts of books some of which Damon had heard of such as Moby Dick, The City of Bones, The Call of the Wild, and other classics.

   When Deamon turned his head a sharp pain shot through his neck as if being stabbed by fiery needles. Shocked at the sudden pain, Damon placed his hand on the side of his neck. He was quiet surprised when he felt a patch of what felt like cotton taped to his neck. He then crawled out of bed and slowly made his way toward the bathroom.

Inside smelt like candy roses and perfume; it was obvious that a girl had been in there recently. Damon swallowed down the heavy weight of fear before glancing over at the mirror. When he saw his reflection in the mirror Damon felt his heart skip a beat. A patch of bloody cotton was taped to the side of his neck covered in dried blood.

Damon hesitated for a moment before gently peeling the tape away to reveal a patch of missing flesh. Damon stared at the wound; feeling the nausea bubble up in the bottom of his stomach. Feeling the bile shoot up his throat Damon quickly dashed for the toilet before throwing up what little he had in his stomach.

Afterward he just laid back and tried to let the nauseous feeling flee from his body. It was then that a deep voice sounded from the doorway making Damon jump in surprise, “Looks like whatever you ate didn’t agree with your stomach.” Damon looked over toward the door to see a tall muscular man standing in the doorway. He had on a black shirt that clung tightly to his biceps, making the shirt look two sizes too small. The thing that caught Damon’s attention was the long jagged scar that ran down from the top of his right eye down to his jaw line. Damon looked at the man who was kneeling in front of him trying to retain information about the man but frowned when nothing came.

“I heard a noise from downstairs and figured you were awake, so I brought you some medicine to ease the pain and nauseous feelings,” the man spoke as he dug into his bag and pulled out what appeared to be a first aid kit.

He unzipped the pouch and pulled out several glass bottles that were filled full of an odd looking liquid. The man dumped the liquid bottles into a glass cup and handed the glass to Damon. Damon hesitated for a moment before taking the glass and staring down at the golden fluid. The sight of the mustard looking liquid made Damon’s stomach churn. And for a moment he thought he was going to throw up again but the sensation went away when the man spoke up again.

“Don’t worry, it’s safe,” the man said in a maternal tone, putting up his hands showing he came in peace.

Damon shot the man with one last look of uncertainty before raising the glass to his lips and downing the revolting solution. When the liquid shot down his throat Damon gagged as the watery substance made its way back up.

The man laughed as he got to his feet and smiled down at him. “Its okay happens to everyone,” the man chuckled. “I’m Collin, and you must be…. “I’m Damon,”

   “Well Damon, you are very lucky to be alive,” Collin informed clearly offering his hand toward Damon. Damon stared down at the man’s hands wondering if his hands were the hands of a serial killer, but he pushed that thought back when he remembered the man had helped him earlier.

“So where exactly am I?” Damon then asked. “The Shelter. Now you might not understand or believe anything your about to hear but believe me it’s true,” Collin notified softly.

The Shelter is home to many Shadow Hunters,” Collin pointed out. “Only Shadow Hunters can enter the gates to the Shelter and nothing else. And if anything tries it will simultaneously die,” Collin clarified in a haughty tone.

Damon stood there staring at Collin as if he was crazy. Was this man really telling him this? And if he was why wasn’t he informed about this earlier, better yet why hadn’t the whole world been told about this? The amnesia and fear that flooded Damon’s mind was then replaced by rant and concern at the fact that his whole life was in danger, and the worst part was he had no realization of it.

Damon noticing the seriousness that was painted on the man’s face realized the man wasn’t playing; this was real. It was either that or this man was insane. “Wait…What?” was all Damon could get out, as he tried to buy himself some time to let it all settle in. “Never mind, I have told you too much,” Collin interjected as fear flashed in his eyes as if he was staring at it in a mirror.

He slowly stood and moved toward the door, before turning to face Damon, “There are some old clothes in that closet that might fit you. Get dressed and come downstairs. We’ll explain everything then,” he said in a fretful voice.

   Damon looked over his shoulder at the old oak door that looked as if it had been through hell. When he looked back the man was gone. “I hate it when they do that,” Damon muttered as he reached for the door and opened it. He was then greeted by the sour smell of old age. When he saw the clothes that hung on the racket he realized where the smell came from. There were all sorts of clothes that hung in the closet most of which were old and torn. He rummaged through the clothing until and pulled out a faded black shirt and a pair of jeans. He then quickly shut the door as if impatient to get away from the horrid smell.

“Who cares what I look like, it’s not like there will be anyone I’ll have to empress,” Damon thought as he slipped on his jeans and turned toward the door. He was about to leave when a slight shimmer struck the corner of his eyes bringing him aware of a shinning object that laid on top of the dresser across the room. He walked over to the desk, and halted to a stop when he saw his dog tags glimmering in the light. He quickly pulled the necklace over his head before turning and walking out of the room with only one thing on his mind…Where the Hell was he.

When Damon reached the bottom of the stairs he felt

totally lost. It seemed as if it had taken him hours just to find the ending. The house was defiantly a lot bigger than what he had expected. Not knowing where to go, he just started walking down the never ending hallway until he heard voices behind a closed wooden door.

Without hesitation, he quickly pushed the door open and wished like hell ha hadn’t of.  Cause just as the door opened and he stepped in the voices died and all eyes came on him. The way they stared at him, seemed as if they were waiting for him to make a move. And just when he opened his mouth someone spoke up, “It’s about time you woke up, I was getting quite worried.” Damon turned around to find a woman in her mid-thirties walking toward him in a strong stride. When she came to a stop in front of him, the first thing he noticed was her height. She was a lot shorter up close then she was far away. And if Damon had guessed right she was almost two inches shorter than he was. She had had long, sandy brown hair that flowed smoothly past her shoulders and came to a stop in the middle of her back. She smiled up at Damon with sparkling hazel eyes, as if he was her long lost son.

“I’m Lisa, Collin’s wife,” she then said with fidelity painted in her voice. Damon stood there not knowing what to say. I’m what was he going to say to a complete stranger, hi. The idea then flashed in his head, he thought on it for a moment and decided to go with it, “Hi.” Once the words came out he realized how stupid it had sounded, and wished he had kept his mouth shut. They all began to laugh until their eyes filled with water. “Damon, you don’t have to act normal around us,” Lisa laughed happily, wiping the tears from the corner of her eyes with the tips of her fingers.

Damon suddenly felt his chest swell with anger, and realized he was beginning to dislike these people. When they continued to laugh Damon’s anger grew stronger and stronger until he finally exploded, “What the hell is so funny? I’m standing here in the middle of some random house with no memory of how I got here and you think this is all a joke. This isn’t funny, and if I were you I would start explaining why the hell I’m here because it’s beginning to look a little suspicious.”

   The looks on their faces showed that they weren’t too pleased with his sudden burst of anger, but their body language showed different. “Okay, calm down, and we’ll give you your answers,” Lisa urged with a look of sincerity on her face. “So what would you like to know?” she then asked calmly.  Damon thought