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Chapter one









“God be with us.”

The priest’s voice carries through the entire church building. The man’s white robes seem to stand out more than his hollow words of God. Maybe if I wasn’t cursed, or as others put it blessed, his words might have some meaning to me.
Too bad this isn’t the case. My name is Dominic Vasquez, and I’m a Lycan, a werewolf. According to the old texts of the church, I’ve been damned since my eyes opened. Ah well, with being damned and all you think nothing could get worse right? Well you’d be wrong.
I look around the near-empty church to look at the people. It makes me sad to think how these people will coast through life with little importance. I see the poor mother rocking her baby. I see the crying woman probably asking for a better life. I’m lucky to be born a Lycan, and more so under one of the four noble houses.
A dark hand falls on my shoulder from the row behind me.

“Dominic, we should return to the house. Your brother is probably worried.” His voice is deep and powerful, which is demanded from a Watcher, which is a bodyguard of sorts.

“Like I would care, and call me Dom. Ok Stark?”

I turn my head as his hand returns to himself. His dark skin greatly contrasts with the long white coat he wears. On his neck I can see the Vasquez seal, which is a black cross incased in a thin circle. I have a similar tattoo on the back of my neck. All Lycans have their family seal tattooed somewhere on their body. The nightwalkers follow this tradition. As in Nightwalkers I mean Vampires, the other immortal race.
Both our races have lived in secret. The church only knows of our past, they remain as ignorant as they were a hundred years ago. The oath of silence has never been broken. Both races know that the longer we remain hidden the longer the world will know peace. We purposely cast ourselves aside so the world can stay in order.
Stark stands up and heads for the entrance. I form the cross on my head and stand up as well. I head for the door but stop. I look back at the white cross that hangs on the wall. How the simple figure can stand for the most powerful force in the world. The priest and I make eye contact. Those eyes that are dancing with color scare me.
I turn my head and exit the church.`

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Stark walks ahead of me with a stern look on his face and a stiff strut. As his coat flaps as he walks, I get a look at his black holster that holds his arma, a long barreled pistol encased in a dull grey casing with a blade running on it’s underside. This is the weapon of the watchers, the elites of each race.
As we walk in the light it makes me think of the Nightwalkers. They miss out on half of the day as we werewolves can walk the day with no troubles. Maybe it’s better this way. I mean we’re going to share the same underworld, we might as well get along.
The streets are crowded with people. I recognize none of the people I pass and I’m glad.