Half-breed

Chapter One
Guardian Angel
Chris fell asl--p at the onset of ten o’clock that night, exhausted from his daily chores and packing. His eyelids were heavy, weighing themselves down, seemingly on purpose because he had to get up so early. He collapsed into bed and as soon as his head touched the pillow, he fell into a deep sleep. His eyes started t witching beneath his eyelids, quite clear that he was now asleep. Little did he know, he had a watcher. A figure, dressed in a long, shredded cloak, the hood hiding its face, pressed its stark white hand on the window. For a moment, nothing happened. Then its ghost like hand started to shimmer, then turn black, immediately followed by the window in the same pattern. The intruder walked straight through, as if nothing was in its way. In an instant, he was followed by another hooded intruder…
…He was in a forest, lost. Lost, lost, lost. He was lost in the middle of a dark, dense wood, with no sense of direction at all. Where am I? He asked himself, just as a terrifying, blood-retched screech echoed through the woods around him. He jumped nearly a foot in the air. The noise was held in the air for a heartbeat longer, resonating off the peeling bark of the trees, until it faded out to nothing. Quietness and suspension hung eerily in the air, sending goose bumps crawling underneath the skin on his arms. What in the world was that? He asked himself, looking cautiously around him, and then added, it sounded like a mix between a bloody scream and some kind of animal. Chris looked about him, eyeing every tree branch and leaf, straining his vision to see anything out of the ordinary.
…Outside of his head, the creatures had actually made the noises. Yet the only person that heard was Chris, he twitched in his sleep, and then suddenly lashed out with his arms. The two threatening and unearthly figures looked at each other, their hidden eyes meeting. They both understood the movement- why the boy thrashed about. He had heard them. And there was only one explanation for that…
…The screech resonated around him again, this time closer and at a level that clawed at the ear drums- like it was trying to scratch its way out. Instantly his hands flew to his ears, bracing them for the continuing screech. There was the screech again; louder and quite more painful to hear. When it quieted he looked around himself once again. Behind him, he heard a branch snap. Not waiting any moment longer, he sprinted as fast as he could away from the animal. His hands dropped and swung in a fast back and forth movement in coordination with the pounding ‘left, right’ of his feet. What animal could possibly make that kind of noise? Then he added: I have never heard of such a noise.
Where am I and what am I running from?
These and more questions pounded through his petrified mind as he raced through the woods, jumping, ducking and dodging any branch or root that stood in his path. This is silly, he decided, I have no idea where I am, what I am running from or even why I am running from it. The only thing that propelled him to run was one gut feeling: the thing that was making the screech couldn’t have been anything good. Finally taking the time to check out his surroundings, using his enhanced ability of peripheral vision, due to countless hours of marching band, he noticed one thing he should have a while ago. It’s nighttime, he noted. Why am I here at night? This place is probably creepy enough during the day. Out of the corner of his eye he saw something flicker in the gray moonlight. Hoping to catch the person running beside him, he quickly turned his head. Nothing was there. Even before the chance to look back forward, he tripped, falling head first into a root.
Why am I here?
…The first intruder placed his hand on the boy’s forehead, projecting images to his self-consciousness. Images of what the creature called home. They boy below his hand started shivering uncontrollably, yet the creature proceeded onward with the mission. His mission. It was the mission that was engrained into his head and all of his kin: ‘To kill one, no matter how young, is one less to worry about. Kill them at all costs’…
…“Ohh…” he m0aned, pushing himself off the muddy ground. Suddenly he started shivering, and the temperature dropped dramatically. With his teeth shattering, he wiped his muddy hands on his shirt and rubbed his forehead. As he looked at his fingertips, he jumped back. When I hit the branch, it must have cut me, he concluded, and then wiped the blood on his already dirty, zip-up hoodie; which was now ineffective against the freezing cold air surrounding him. As he took a deep breath to calm his panting, the icy air stung his lungs. He twitched, but ignored the pricking pain: he needed to breath.
Where I am?
When he finally stood, he froze. There were no more screeches. Where were they? Why did they stop? Did they finally find something to eat? Or have they finally found him? A shiver crawled up his spine when he realized that the temperature was getting even colder. It felt like he was getting frosted over in an instant. When he looked at his arm, he brushed away a light frost that accumulated on his hoodie sleeve. Why? This is impossible!
Why am I so cold?
…The intruder p inched the boy’s forehead, forcing the cold from his body to the boy’s. His body temperature must have been below 40 degrees Fahrenheit, well below any mortal b0dily temperature. The second intruder walked with such finesse, making it seem like he was floating, to the opposite side of the bed. It let out a growl and click, saying, “Finish him already! We must complete the task assigned!” The first intruder hesitated for a moment, then continued in its native language of clicks and growls, “If he has resisted this much, he will become a powerful one…Master would not like that. We will be gratefully rewarded for its death.” The other intruder nodded slowly in agreement…
…Growls and clicks sounded from behind him. He jumped and turned around, staring in black emptiness, only dimly illuminated from the moonlight. A soft wind blew through the dark forest, the leaves rustling against each other- other than that it was deathly quiet. The forest seemed to be holding its breath against something, but he realized it was him. He took a painful, but needed, gulp of air.
“H-Hello?” he stuttered, hoping it was only because he was cold. Absently, he brushed more frost of his arms, eyes flashing around at the forest. More clicks sounded from behind him. He slowly turned around, fear and anxiety built up in him, his blood racing with Adrenaline. His heart pounded hard against his chest as he imagined some kind of cougar standing there, growling and ready to pounce. Nothing was there, at least not what he saw. His eyes narrowed, trying to use the dark around him so he could see deeper into the blackness. Then he saw it. And when he did, he nearly collapsed to his knees from fright.
…Muscles in the intruder’s hand tensed, and at first the other stood by and watched aimlessly. He growled and placed his hand on the boy’s chest. They both knew that projecting themselves into a mortal’s dream was difficult, resulting in exhaustion and a weak state of being. If anybody, particularly any…thing from the Council, attacked, they’d have no choice but to give in or die. And give in, they would surely not do…
It had a humanoid shape, but it wore a long black, shredded, cloak. Its face was hidden, but it reeked of death and depression. It stood tall and str@ight. That’s all he could tell. He shuddered and pulled his eyes away from the dreaded figure. Just as he was to move his foot a freezing cold, boney hand tightly gripped his left shoulder. The cold grip turned into a sharp, painful grip. He yelled out as the pain spread to every inch of his body. As soon as the pain was too much to bare, his yelling slowly ceased and he collapsed to the ground. What seemed to be a conversation passed between the two cloaked figures by clicks and growls. He made a g rim note of the noises and stuffed them into the back of his worries.
They rolled him over. One placed its hand over his heart and the other pinned his arms down. Reluctantly, he rolled out of his semi-unconscious state, but the pain from the creatures grip's returned, forcing him to g roan and struggle weakly under it.
What’s happening? Where am I?
…The second intruder pinned the boy’s arms down, in case of any subconscious rebellion. The first creature lowered his hand to the boy’s heart. This was it, when he drained the energy from the boy, they’d kill another one of them. Their master would be proud. Slowly, the intruder pinched the skin against his bony fingers, tightening around his heart. The intruder’s whole body shimmered and his hand darkened until it was jet black…
..Just as the pain seemed to level off, the creature with its hand over his heart seemed to tighten around his heart and drain all the energy from his body bit by bit. “No,” he whispered achingly, still trying to w retch his way out from the claustrophobic tightening…
…Another figure stepped through the window, but this time, not wearing a cloak. He wore a vest, with no undershirt, and baggy black pants, tucked into combat boots and held up by an extensive belt. Both creatures let out a hissing noise. The second intruder, the one who pinned the boy’s arms down, let go. He bent down to the boy’s ear and started passing a message on to his consciousness. The other intruder tightened its grip around the boy’s heart and held his ghostly hand, pointing it at the intruder. They were over; both of the intruders knew it. The new comer wore a mask around his eyes; his shaggy blonde hair nearly covered his pale gray eyes. He was young, looking only twenty, but had many years of experience behind him. He smiled slyly and held his fist up to the creatures. Bawled tightly in his fist, was, what looked to be a large test tube…
…It felt like there was a hand gripping his heart, his envying to be free increased. But as his energy drain, his muscles grew fatigued, until eventually he stopped struggling. He lie limp as a creature leaned down next to his shoulder, growling and clicking the same message over and over again, until he could understand it.
“To worry about. One less of your kind, is one less we have to worry about.” His eyes opened wide; he understood them.
What’s happening?
They wanted to kill him.
Where am I?
I am here, but why! Why am I here?
He was going to die.
Please help me!
…The newcomer, not understandable to the average mortal ear, whispered two words, “Teah Curro.” Both creatures screeched, ear piercingly loud, and were sucked into the test tube. Quickly he shoved a stopper into it, admiring the black goo that filled ¾ of it. He shook it, smiling, tilted his head and shrugged. He shoved the tube into a holder, shaped like a bullet holder, and then turned his attention to the freezing boy; he’s teeth were chattering and his lips blue. In three steps he was at the side of his bed, his pale gray eyes staring down at him. With a shake of his head, he muttered in the Ancient t0ngue of Latin, “You’re far gone, young one. But there may be something I can do to release some of the pain.” He didn’t realize the boy should have d ied minutes ago. He didn’t realize that as soon as he did what he did, he saved the boy’s life. But he did not know that he had forever connected his and the boy’s spirit…
…Summoning the energy to struggle under the painful grips he realized, he was going to d ie- his questions turning into ravaged pleads. There was only one thing he wanted. He wanted to go home. He didn’t want to be there. He didn’t want to d ie.
I’m going to die. Alone. In the middle of a forest…Please, G0d, No!
…The newcomer, smiled, placed his hand on the boy’s heart and chanted in a warm tone, “Warm yourself, free yourself…” The boy slowly stopped shivering, but still twitched uncontrollably under the grip his nightmare. The newcomer frowned, “He should be free of his nightmares.” The next motion sent a shiver up the newcomer’s arm. His hand hovered over the struggling boy’s forehead, shocked by the power below…
…He was going to die. He knew it. Only was he panicking, he didn’t realize the temperature start to warm, and he nearly stopped shivering. The pain that alit his body, now started to disappear. So did the creatures. Chris smiled- he was going to die after all…
…The Newcomer took a long deep breath through his nose and exhaled out his mouth. He smiled; he didn’t need to look at the boy to know he slept peacefully now, but he looked anyways and he smiled broader. He always admired his work- that’s why he knew the Council needed him. The boy’s eyes twitched constantly under his eyelids. “Sleep peacefully, young one. You are more powerful than I had thought.”
* * *
“Chris, wake up!”
He jumped up, nearly smacking his head against the head of his bead; his bed sheets sprawled out all over his room- everywhere expect his bed. Of course, he noted grimly. Even his pillow was on the ground. Outside his window, the street lights were still on, and the silver full moon lit the sky, dully illuminating the suburb street. He looked at his clock- 1:30AM.
“Right,” he said, yawning and stretching his arms out, then instantly folding his arms to his chest, cradling them- he was sore. Incredibly sore. While rubbing his arms, he muttered solemnly, “Time to leave.”
A fist pounded on the door, when its owner growled, “Are you up yet, Chris?” It was his mom, Ivory Carter. She was the nicest mom on the Earth. His dad d ied before he was born, and his mom always told him he died in a motorcycle accident. She'd always end the story with, "he always did love motorcycles." He never met his dad; he never saw pictures of him or anything. It was like he never existed except for the random stories.
“Yeah, mom,” he muttered. Slowly and cautiously, he stepped down on to the floor. The moment he put pressure on his feet, he nearly collapsed to the floor. Not only were his arms sore, but his legs too. His brow creased and the muscles in his jaw tightened as he stepped towards his dresser, each step filled with pain and anxiety. As soon as he got to his dresser, he quietly sank to his knees, panting. It was then he realized it was painful to breath. Remembering his dream, his hand flew to his heart, smacking it only a little too hard: he yelped in pain. In the blink of an eye his shirt was off and his clenched jaw touched his chest. His lower jaw set back and his lips moved to show his teeth and his worried expression. The skin above his heart was now a dark blue- purple that stretched from his armpit to the middle of his chest. Silently and gently he rubbed the bruise.
For only a couple moments he wondered, ‘how on Earth did I get this’? He couldn’t explain it. The only thing he thought was it was from his dream. But that was impossible. It was a dream. An angry expression contorted his face; he grabbed his favorite black shirt and threw it over his torso, covering the bruise. He had bigger issues to worry about.
He was going to a boarding school just as he went to high school. He was only going into his sophomore year, and yet his mom was making him go to a boarding school literally hundreds miles away from his cozy home that he grew up in. The school was called Breachwood Academy, a strict school made especially for the smart people of tomorrow. That should be their Slogan, he sneered. Not ‘Readying the Bright Minds of today, for tomorrow’. Yeah, right. The only reason he got it was probably because his mom pulled strings with the Headmaster or Principal or whatever they call the guy in charge there.
Yet, as much as he did not want to go, he wanted to go. He wanted to get out of the town where he had lived for the first thirteen years of his life. He felt special that he was the one that got to go. He was excited, too excited, to the point of where he memorized his acceptance letter. It read:
Hello Carter Family,
Recently your son has put in an application for our school, Breachwood Academy, a co-ed school for students in grades 9-12. We gladly let you know that he has been accepted with most of the tuition covered by our school and will be attending school this fall for his freshman year. Since his application was so well done, the classes he picked for his first choice will be his schedule- see attached papers for schedule, and other information.
Breachwood Academy is glad to have your son as part of our school. We hope you have a pleasant rest of your summer and have safe travels.
~Doctor John Stone
Doctor John Stone, Headmaster.
Your student, Chris Carter, will be placed in Dorm Building ‘3’ in Room 2G. The first five Dorms will be dedicated to the male student body and six through ten will be dedicated to the female student body. Never will the opposite gender enter the dorms, it is absolutely forbidden, and if caught, it will result in a punishment, most likely your student would be expelled. However, there are several study centers, our hall and the library where the students can mingle. Public Displays of Affection (PDA) will be closely monitored.
The total number of the Student body will be approximately 500 students. There are ten dorms, so approximately fifty students per dorm. Showers, bathrooms and such are private to each bedroom, four in each dorm, and are completely private separately.
Thank you again for choosing our school. Please bring this on August 23st, the day before the start of school and but the day you arrive at Breachwood Academy. Once again we hope you enjoy the rest of your summer. We cannot wait to see our bright, new and shining students! (For Transformation information, please see page three of Packet).

That was it. Once his mom saw it, she made the final decision. He was off to Boarding School on August 23rd. He didn’t have a word in the say, but hey, isn’t that how it always works? He struggled to stand, but managed to grab his favorite, bright white hoodie. Pulling his it over his black shirt he groaned in pain from being stiff and sore. With another sharp intake of air, he scattered his jet black hair with his fingers, checking in the mirror across from him to make sure he didn’t have bed head.
Another knock at his door. “Chris, hurry up now,” she said. “It’s almost two and we have to get you to the Bus Station now, it leaves at 2:30.”
“I’ll be right there,” he said, yawning. Taking one last look at his room, he smiled. He’d be getting out of there, but he’d sure miss it. Next to his door sat his trumpet, luggage and his bus ticket. His face twisted into a scowl; they wanted him to be there at least by 1PM so the students could get settled in their dorm rooms and listen to the ‘Welcoming Assembly’ (which probably wouldn’t be much either way). He hated getting less than four hours of sl--p with a passion.
His scowl soon turned into a look of sadness; he’d miss his home. But as his mom said the past week, “Really, Chris, it is for the better. All I want is to keep you safe.” Whatever the last part meant, he could never figure it out. He wished his dad was still here. He could have helped him figure it out, probably. Letting out a sigh, he grabbed the handle to his suitcase and trumpet and left his bedroom for the last time until June.

--------------------------------
Now...It's important to give credit where credit is due. For the pictures, that is..
The story Title pic: Will come later. I will try drawing one on my own...
And the Chapter: yaaddict.blogspot.com