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July 2007
Dorchester Publishing
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Prologue
The signs were small, hardly worth commenting on by the hoards of
Diamondback fans converging on Chase Field that warm May evening. A
slight rise of temperature. A shift in the breeze. An annoying
increase in static electricity. The huge flock of pigeons startled
into flight from their roost atop the baseball stadium.
Small signs indeed, but they signaled the beginning of a new
cycle.
And once begun, it couldn't be stopped. Not by anyone or
anything...human or otherwise.
The creature felt a change deep within him and stirred inside the
confines of his subterranean cocoon. Suddenly and without warning, a
fiery pain sliced through his entrails, unbearable in its intensity.
A scream ripped from his parched throat. Muffled by the thick,
protective shell imprisoning him and layer upon layer of heavy dirt,
it was heard by no one.
Instinct overruled emotion. He arched his back and pushed with
large, powerful feet. Slowly, the surrounding ground began to
crumble, then give way. Fresh air rushed in to fill the newly formed
cracks and penetrate the cocoon's porous exterior. His nostrils
quivered.
For the first time in twenty-five years, the creature breathed.
And smelled.
Hunger consumed him, debilitating him with its voracity and
blinding him to all needs save one. He must feed. And soon. Without
substance, he would quickly die and with him, the future of his
entire race.
Calling upon the last of his strength, he made one final,
Herculean effort. A deafening roar filled his ears. Whether from
dirt and rocks falling or the thunderous pounding of his recently
re-energized heart, he neither knew, nor cared.
The half-dozen small horns protruding from his brow pierced the
top of the cocoon. In the next instant, the earth above him broke
apart. His head emerged through the opening. Shoulders and arms
followed. When he could move the upper half of his body freely, the
creature hoisted himself from the hole and the leather-like casing
which had housed him the last quarter century.
Kneeling on all fours, his armorplated chest rising and falling
from his recent exertion, he took a few precious moments to recover
from the ordeal of his rebirth and orient himself to his
environment.
A city. Yes, he remembered now. Noise. Lights. Automobiles.
People. Stench. Memories returned, his own from the year he'd spent
in a larvae state before retreating underground and those implanted
in his brain by his parents. He looked around. His compound eyes
transmitted a hundred images to his brain, enabling him to see in
darkness almost as well as in daylight. Lifting one arm, he flexed
his fingers. The six-inch long, four-jointed digits tingled as blood
flowed into veins long ago collapsed from lack of use.
Stiff and sore, he awkwardly raised himself to a standing
position, holding onto a nearby pillar for support. Grass tickled
his scaly skin, reminding him of the location his mother had
selected for his lengthy hibernation and metamorphous. A place where
the humans buried their dead. She'd evidently chosen well, for he'd
awakened whole and mature and undiscovered by potential predators.
Emitting a sound between a squeal and growl, he rotated his
shoulders from side to side. Tendons stretched and cartilage
shifted. With a loud snap like that of a tree branch breaking, his
transparent wings unfolded and expanded to their full fifteen-foot
span.
He was ready to hunt.
Disappearing into the encroaching dusk was easy for the creature.
His mottled brown coloring provided him with a natural camouflage
while his wings allowed him to coast noiselessly inches above the
ground.
Within minutes, he scented prey, and the hunger consuming him
moved from need to rage. Finding a small stone structure not much
taller than himself, he flew to the top, retracted his wings, and
huddled behind a sculpted parapet. There, shrouded in darkness, he
waited.
His highly developed senses told him what he needed to know.
Female. Long past her prime. Small in stature. Feeble. His mind
reached out to her, and he learned she'd come to the place where
humans buried their dead to offer tribute to a recently deceased
kin.
The creature tensed in anticipation. She'd be easy to overpower
and though scrawny, would yield enough nourishment to sustain him
until the next night when he could feed again.
At last, she came into view, emerging from a small stand of
trees. The creature wasted no time, surprise being his greatest
weapon. He launched himself from the rooftop, his wings spread wide,
and covered the distance separating him from his prey within
seconds. She didn't look up until he was directly over her. He could
see the confusion on her face as he swooped down and gathered her
into his arms. She offered no resistance beyond a weak cry for help,
and he carried her back to his temporary hiding place on the roof.
Crouching, he turned her over and lay her across his lap. She
still clutched the flowers she'd been holding when he captured her.
Fear clouded her eyes, but she didn't shut them. He respected her
bravery and decided to honor her with a swift death.
"Are you going to kill me?" she asked in a thin, shaky voice.
He understood her and was pleased that yet another implanted
memory had resurfaced. To survive, he would need to speak the
language of the humans inhabiting this place.
"Yes, I am." His voice was low and course and new to his ears. In
his immature larvae state, he'd been unable to vocalize.
"Why?" she asked, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Because I must feed."
He stroked her wet cheek with one finger, the gesture tender and
reverent. Then he lowered his head to sniff and nuzzle her ear. She
shuddered in response, her entire body quaking.
"Please," she cried softly.
He obliged her by snapping her neck before biting into her
shoulder neck, and tearing out large chunks of her flesh with his
needle-sharp teeth. As her life's blood drained onto the rooftop,
the creature fed until very little of the old woman remained.
Upon finishing, he rose, unfolded his wings and took flight,
careful to keep to the inky shadows cast by the city's skyscrapers.
Instinct, old as the beginning of time, drove him. Having fed, he
must next find sanctuary. Somewhere he could pass the daylight hours
safe from the Huntsman, the human ordained by The Ancients to seek
him out and attempt to destroy him in a battle old as the dawn of
the time.
So would be the completion of the cycle.
But before then, the creature would first ensure the continuation
of his race. Somewhere in the city, he knew, existed females of his
kind. He must find one and mate with her
before the Huntsman found him.
# # #
The Huntsman came instantly awake and jerked upright in bed.
Tossing aside the single blanket covering his naked body, he stood
and strode to the window of his third-story apartment.
Come, The Ancients' voices called to him. Cadamus has roused.
And the first thing he will do is feed, thought the Huntsman,
unlocking the window. He was too late to save tonight's victim, but
maybe tomorrow...
He no sooner slid the window fully open when thousands of pigeons
appeared and soared past, a giant black river gliding through an
even blacker night.
"It begins," he whispered to himself, acknowledging the
unmistakable sign heralding the start of a new cycle.
Cadamus' life would not be a long one. But during his short
existence, he would embark on a killing spree unlike anything the
people of Phoenix had seen — at least in the last twenty-five years.
The Huntsman stood back from the window and shut it, the pigeons
having long disappeared. He would sleep no more tonight and little
over the coming weeks.
It was his task, his duty, to destroy Cadamus, destroy him before
he located a female and reproduced. Since the Huntsman was a boy of
nine, he'd waited and trained for the day The Ancients would call
upon him to serve.
And he would not forsake his sacred duty until he succeeded, even
if it meant the end of his own existence. For if he failed, the
creatures would multiply, and humankind would soon cease to exist.
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