Darkness (The Ethereal Series ~ Book One)

By Crystal Adamson

50% of this book’s proceeds are going to Joplin Tornado Relief.

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Mare Knotting discovers the beings that gave raise to myth, but what astounds her more than their reality is the fact that they are the children of angels.

A single mother, Mare works hard to provide a good life for her three-and-a-half year-old daughter, Clarissa. And while Clarissa is the reason Mare’s world spins, Clarissa’s father, Christian, has never had anything to do with his daughter. A single, working mom and college student, Mare has too much on her plate for a social life - even after meeting gorgeous Daniel Stotts. Attempting to ignore her attraction to Daniel, Mare must try to discount Daniel’s reciprocated feelings as well.

But after Daniel cautions Mare against participation in a financial-aid project she signs up for, telling her that he believes the corporation sponsoring the project is trying to create a superhuman, Mare deletes Daniel from her radar - believing that he is delusional. And that might be for the best, because Christian’s unanticipated contact makes Mare realize that she had never gotten over her ex-boyfriend like she had thought she had.

Pursuing the project, inhuman beings chase Mare after she submits her results. Daniel rescues her, but it doesn’t escape Mare’s notice that Daniel moves just as inhumanly as the things chasing her. And once he has her to safety, Daniel explains the truth of the world to Mare; Ethereals - fallen angels and their descendents - exist.. and they are where vampire and werewolf legends derive. But when Daniel alleges that he believes the corporation is truly working for Lucifer, Mare is more shocked to find that her research helped to create an army that Satan will use to try to defeat God with on Judgment Day. Already enough to deal with, Mare then learns that Clarissa is the most powerful witch any Ethereal has ever seen.

All too much, Mare blacks out - and wakes to the realization of whom and what she truly is.

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Thank you for reading this product description, I hope you enjoy the plot of the story enough to sample or download it! And thank you for enough interest to check out my book!

Crystal D. Adamson

• Language: English
• Publisher: Crystal Adamson
• Release date: Aug 1, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465737816

Crystal Adamson

I am 37 and have been writing since I was 11. I have four children (including my man's from his previous marriage) and a granddaughter. I love to create stories, and I hope you enjoy what I publish on Smashwords, now and in the future.

Book preview

IN MEMORY OF

All of those lost in the Joplin Tornado (May 22, 2011)

(Fifty percent of this book's profit is going to the Joplin Missouri Tornado Relief [to Habitat for Humanity]--I pray it helps the residents who lost everything.

And thank you for your download; it is helping to raise more money for Joplin's aid.)

~The Ethereal Series~

Book One

DARKNESS

By Crystal D. Adamson

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Darkness (The Ethereal Series: Book One)

Published by Crystal D. Adamson at Smashwords

Copyright 2011 Crystal D. Adamson

This book is a work of fiction.

Any references to any historical events, real people or entities, or real locales are used fictitiously. Any characters, names, places, or events are the imagination of the author. Any resemblance to any place, event, or person--living or dead--is wholly coincidental.

All rights to this work are reserved, including reproduction in any form.

This book is dedicated to:

My mother--for believing in my writing for so long; this book wouldn't be here without her support and encouragement,

and

My daughter--for her continuous encouragement, telling me how much she enjoys my writing, and listening to my incessant rambling about the story,

and

to everyone who encourages my writing.

Thank you, all!!

Table of Contents

Darkness

(The Ethereal Series: Book One)

In Memory Of

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication Page

Chapter 1 ~ Disbelief

Chapter 2 ~ First Day

Chapter 3 ~ Impressions

Chapter 4 ~ On Foot

Chapter 5 ~ Decisions

Chapter 6 ~ Intrusion

Chapter 7 ~ Rescue

Chapter 8 ~ Taling

Chapter 9 ~ Dreaming

Chapter 10 ~ The Beach

Chapter 11 ~ Wings

Chapter 12 ~ The Jungle

Chapter 13 ~ Shark-Infested Waters

Chapter 14 ~ Explanations

Chapter 15 ~ Confessions

Chapter 16 ~ Blocking

Chapter 17 ~ Christian

Chapter 18 ~ Departure

Chapter 19 ~ Ruse

Chapter 20 ~ Welcoming

Chapter 21 ~ Power

Chapter 22 ~ Maxima

Chapter 23 ~ Memories

Chapter 24 ~ Awakening

~Chapter 1~

DISBELIEF

As I slid out of Angel-Beast--my car--the air smelled an earthy musk, peculiar for a concrete industrial park. My flesh prickled, and all my senses honed sharp--something didn't seem fitting. Despite the few cars that dotted the street to that block and the five or six other cars parked in the same lot I was, no one seemed to be in the vicinity. Several two-and-three-story cinder-block buildings lined the road, but none shown signs of inhabitation.

It was quiet, deathly quiet there. Someone had to be around somewhere; there were just no signs of life to show anyone was present!

With the assumption that the corporation wouldn't send me anywhere dangerous to drop off my research, I locked Angel's doors and headed toward my destination--the corporation's office.

The area was unnerving; uneasy would have been an understatement to my feelings at that moment. My stopgap weapon in hand--my key ring inside my fist, finger gaps spiking the key-ends of the keys that dangled from its ring--I hastened down the walkway while trying to keep an inconspicuous watch around myself. A medieval Morning Star it wasn't, but I doubted my makeshift mace would bring an attacker pleasure if hit with it.

As I crossed the second alleyway, I noticed a few bodies gathered at the back of the building, and I silently thanked my supervisor for showing us girls the crude, hobnailed cudgel. Immediately, I decided to ask for an escort back to my car from whoever was in the office, hoping to prevent trouble from the hooligans.

On the second block's sidewalk, I gazed up at the address-numbers above the first door.

Bingo!

Upon entering, however, I became slightly alarmed. It wasn't like any office I had ever seen--dark, not a light on in the entire place. From the dim light of dusk spreading through the glass door, I could vaguely make out a desk in the middle of the large room. The air smelled musky and stale, a scent of citrus cleaner underlying. There was total silence--you could have heard a feather hit the floor.

Did I get the address wrong? Am I on the wrong street? Hello? my voice quivered.

Ah, Ms. Knotting, a clear, deep voice emanated from the pitch-black space as a lamp illuminated on the desk.

Minutely flinching, I drew in a startled breath.

The man behind the table smiled warmly, but his eyes held malice. I'm so sorry to have frightened you. I hadn't heard you come in. I was resting a bit while waiting, and I had flipped off the lamp--I have had such a migraine today. Anyhow, I am so sorry.

He motioned me to sit in one of the leather chairs before his dark-wooden desk. Slowly walking forward, I still felt uncomfortable; something wasn't right about the man. His black hair oiled back. His three-piece, pin-stripped suit shouted mob--or something worse. I half-wondered if he had an Uzi hidden just beneath his writing slab.

Able to see the room better with the lamplight, I realized it was merely a big, empty storage room. The walls were the inside of the outer cinder-block walls; the floor was bare concrete. My footsteps made a spine-chilling echo as I crossed the room's base, which added to my uneasiness.

Something didn't seem safe about the exchange.

Once I approached, I stood steadfast--the man made me too nervous to sit, so I said what I felt I should, hoping to leave directly after. I'm sorry, I know most of the other participants turned in their research a while back. I handed my folder tentatively to the gentleman--who was smiling sardonically then.

"No, no. You don't need to apologize. We encourage participants to take their time and really give a go at the project." He intercepted the folder and laid it in front of him, motioning me to sit again, one of his eyebrows arching dubiously.

Stiff stance, I replied, Well… Unfortunately, I didn't figure it out. I had some theories I felt were original, however, it didn't come to a resolution of the DNA. But I took very careful notes; made clear diagrams of all my steps. I'm sure you can follow my research easily. Thank you for allowing me to participate.

I began to slowly back toward the exit.

Slightly cocking his head, the gentleman's malevolent eyes turned treacherous. Please, Ms. Knotting. He repeated his motion for me to sit, a previous sneer replaced by stiff lips, his voice sharp, demanding. "I would like for you to go over your results with me."

All I wanted was out of that room! That man was more intimidating than the room or the street outside. I used the first excuse I could think of.

I'm sorry. You should be able to follow my notes easily. I really must leave. I have to be at work in a short amount of time, and it's across town.

The gentleman kept his eyes tentative, a wicked grin turning up his lips, as if he knew that I was lying to him. I see. Well, if we have any questions about your results, we will give you a call.

That would be fine. Again, thank you. Abruptly, I turned and made for the door--with the feeling something was sneaking up behind me.

As if a wild cat were on my tail, I flung the office door open and bolted through. In the fresh air, I drew in a jagged, grateful breath--not realizing I had almost quit breathing in the room. As I turned to head toward Angel-Beast, my momentum snuffed. The air puffed back out of my lungs. My eyes grew larger in surprise.

Not thirty feet from where I stood, at the corner of the building were three of the alleyway's dark-hooded figures I had seen on my way in. One was leaning against the wall on one shoulder, two more stood on the sidewalk; together, they blocked any path through. My heart sank to my stomach. I knew that I was in trouble. As that understanding flitted across my head, three more of them stepped out directly behind the three that were already in view!

I didn't know what to do.

I turned and yanked on the door that I had came out of--it had already been locked, the lamp off again. I had wanted out of that room with that man so desperately, but at that moment, I would have preferred to face his intimidation to the one I was. At least I only had one to deal with in there--not six! Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the six figures slowly advancing toward me. I knew I wasn't getting out of there alive--at least, not without hospitalization.

Then everything happened so fast that I couldn't see it clearly.

A streak zoomed around the corner and the hooded figures seemed to scatter--as bowling pins when the ball crashes into them. All in the same moment, I felt something slam into me and I lost my footing. A few seconds later, I realized I hadn't been knocked down; something had lifted me and was carrying me away. The hooded figures were in pursuit, but my rescuer and I were already a block ahead of them. Terrified of not knowing who had me, I was also relieved someone had taken me away. I glanced to see who my rescuer was, seeing the familiar face I had been trying to avoid.

Daniel's face looked more chiseled and tense than any expression I had ever seen on him. He had apparently scooped me off the ground, holding me the way you would hold a sleeping toddler. Since I was alert, I was sitting up more than a child would, my arms wrapped around Daniel's neck. I glanced back and saw that the hooded figures were gaining on us; only then, their hoods had fallen back.

My mouth gaped in disbelief.

Those men, they didn't look right. They were bald, heads mildly misshapen. Their lips curled back as a rabid animal's, saliva draining down each one's chin. Their teeth looked pointed, a piranha's multimillion daggers. Their features weren't human, more animal-like. Their lips were blue, a bluish tint to their skin.

They looked dead!

I stared into the eyes of the figure in the lead, noting they were pitch-black--empty hollows bored into them. I stared in shock for a moment and then realized how fast the buildings were whipping past them--and how fast Daniel and I were whipping past the buildings, too. Wide-eyed, I turned to gawp at Daniel. I didn't know how he was doing it. I knew he couldn't be doing it. No human could run that fast! I didn't know what the things behind us were, but I knew they weren't natural--they couldn't be human. So how was Daniel carrying me away like that--like them?

Daniel turned his head toward mine, gazing directly into my eyes. I felt burning razor-sharp pains fill my chest as I tried to suck in a frightened breath--Daniel had strange eyes as well. His weren't as frightening as those following us were, but they weren't human--a metallic gold where color should have been, outlined in black.

I began to shake and feel nauseas.

It's okay, Mare. Daniel's voice was deeper than usual—and hoarse. Still, it had a soothing chime to it. I will not hurt you. I will not let them harm you, either.

Not able to stand seeing those eyes so close, I broke Daniel's gaze. I had no idea where we were or where he was taking me. Glancing back at the things following us, I saw that they were a little closer. Out of my peripheral vision, I noticed Daniel's expression--disengaged, distant. It was as if he were trying to will something with his mind. The next thing I knew, Daniel flung me on his back, and it felt as if we were rising straight up in the air.

I could see a wall in front of us, and before I could understand what was happening, Daniel had me back in his toddler grip, sprinting across the rooftop--the edge closing quickly. Before I could shout a warning or even scream, we were on the next roof; Daniel had made the leap easier than an Olympic hurdler on a track. I looked behind us and saw that the things had fallen back slightly… but they were still pursuing.

My fear was subsiding, or at least, that is how it felt. I didn't feel locked in it anymore--at that moment, everything just seemed surreal. I realized I couldn't hear, though. I saw everything around me. I could feel the wind on my skin. I could feel my hair stinging my eyes as it whipped back and forth. But I couldn't hear a thing.

So emotionally numb, not being able to hear really didn't trouble me. My stinging eyes didn't cause me any discomfort. The wind on my skin didn't give me a chill. I turned to look in front of us, and along with my hearing, I wished my sight had disappeared, too--there was more horror approaching.

Three more figures drew near ahead of us. One was a female--long, flowing, blonde hair trailed out behind the tiny, curvy figure. A massive brute-looking shape was in the same charging line. The last was the alarm bell ringing; it was wearing a dark-hoodie sweat jacket, face hidden in shadows--exactly like the ones that chased us!

That was all my mind could handle.

I passed out knowing a man I knew and trusted was rushing me unnaturally across rooftops, scaling walls quicker and more easily than a spider--like the monsters that chased and charged us.

I passed out from pure terror, and my mind began to unravel those last three months since I had met Daniel, focusing frenziedly to make any logic of that night's events.

~Chapter 2~

FIRST DAY

As I walked through the sunlit forest in the early morning hour, I listened to the songs chirped by the sundry birds. My favorite time of day--my walks there before my young ones awoke--was tranquil and relaxing. That morning, however, I was not there to find peace but to contemplate what I needed to do. I hoped nature would give me a sign when my correct path crossed my contemplations.

Suddenly, I heard the distant commotion--my son's voice emanating from within it. My body darted through the lush vegetation, and I halted several yards from the squabble.

My eyes grew. A breath caught in my chest.

Two adult men argued in the middle of nowhere; a young woman, uneasy, stood nearby. The older man was the father of the young woman; the younger man was my son. Fresh drops of blood dribbled across the breast of the lady's nightgown, and I knew what had occurred. I knew why the older man yelled and threatened my son--and I didn't blame him.

I fled the scene unnoticed--knowing I had the answers I had been seeking.

Then, my melodious alarm startled me awake from my dream--in my usual distasteful mood. I rolled over and struck the snooze button. What is the hype about mornings? Ugh! They are dreadful things! I curled tighter in my blankets and cuddled with my pillow, letting my mind drift back to slumber. That sleep wasn't as deep as the one I had been in; my dream did not continue, and I was happy--elated, actually--about that.

Since childhood, I had been having those bizarre dreams. Images that felt more like deep-seated memories, truly, than a fictitious illusion my mind had summoned. They were rarely the same but always possessed a quality of likeness; the same locale and moment in time were a common theme throughout each of them. The only difference from those that I had as a small child versus the ones I had as I grew into an adult was the fact that the older I became, the more frequently they occurred.

The droning clamor emitted from my alarm again, and I struck the snooze button once more--with a bit more force that time. I had never been a morning person. A night owl is what I remembered my mother saying I was.

The warm sun breaking my siesta in the early morning hour had always been abhorrent to me. The darkness and quiet that lent itself to the night were not only peaceful but also comforting. It was like floating in a pool, ears filled with water; noises muted, less sharp.

The morning's sun and hustle and bustle that followed it were aggravating. It was hard to sleep with the warm rays sprinkling through the window, cascading across my face. It was hard to think with all the action about. Moreover, it was hard to imagine why so many people were fond of that time of day!

It's not that I hated the sun--which was good seeing that I was born and raised in the Sunshine State! I'd always liked the bright rays, the feel of the warmth on my skin, all of the light, fragrant smells of the flora that drifted through the balmy air--but only after I was wide awake.

The alarm returned and I squashed my face into my pillow--and whimpered. I pressed the snooze button to make the rueful noise end--and then I turned off the alarm entirely. Closed, my eyes felt so good--as if my day didn't have to begin if I didn't open them. But despite my ghastly mood, the subdued squeak of my door made me smile.

What are you doing up so early? I chortled, my grin widening.

You going to school today?

Covers flipped back with a fling of my hand, and I motioned my little princess to join me. She ran to me as our morning custom demanded, and I held out my arms to catch her as she made her gigantic two-inch jump at the end of her sprint to launch onto my bed. I pulled her up and cuddled her to my chest like a baby, staring into the beautiful, green eyes of my three-and-a-half year-old daughter. That little face staring back at me with absolute adoration, devotion, and conviction, I smiled grander. I sat up with Clarissa, kissed her forehead, and slid her into my lap.

Yes, sweet pea. Mama is going to school today. I sighed disappointedly and then raised my eyebrows in playfulness. I'd rather stay home with you, though. I tickled her belly as I spoke the last.

She giggled her sweet, soft, little laugh--the one that made my world go around. She made my world go around. She was what kept me focused and working as hard as I had been for those last four years.

Clarissa rose up on her knees and placed her tiny hands on my cheeks. She stared intently at me a moment--and smiled. I love you, Mama.

I love you, too, ladybug! I squeezed her tightly to me. You are what makes Mama's world spin. I pulled her back a bit so that I could look at her. You know, Mama wishes she had more time to spend with you. I have to do this to make a good life for us, though. You understand that, don't you?

Clarissa nodded, a grin stretching across her cherubic face. You want to give me everything.

I stood up, still nestling her body to my chest and staring into her ever-so-trusting eyes. I bent down, setting her tiny feet on the floor, and squatted next to her, looking straight into her gaze.

Um-hmm, I replied, nodding my head. And what does that take?

Clarissa beamed. You get smart!

Then she clapped for herself because she knew it was the correct answer. I made all kinds of excited faces for my big girl as I clapped for her, too.

She and I had many conversations about what I had to do to provide for her--to really provide for her. She had a persuaded reply when asked what I had to do to take care of her; that persuaded reply was, you have to get smart.

What I knew was that I had to get an education in order to provide Clarissa the life I wanted her to have. I knew that it would be tough for her, for the both of us, but I knew it was necessary--the amount of time I had to be away from her. Moreover, I knew it was important that she understood why I was away as much as I was! I didn't want her to resent me for the time I was gone, especially when it was to obtain what was necessary to give her everything.

As easy as it would have been to have gotten a minimum-wage job and raised Clarissa with the help of state aid... Well, I couldn't allow that life for her. I wanted to provide her with a better life than that. I wanted to give her all of the things that she needed, all of things that she wanted, and never have to worry about our finances.

A nice house with a great yard Clarissa could play in was my primary goal; a dependable vehicle was my secondary. Children needed room to grow in, and I didn't want to have to depend on the local park or our apartment's ten-by-twenty-foot common's area as her only fun space. I never wanted to face my mode of transportation making mysterious noises--as my current clunker made--or praying everyday that it would start.

I had to keep trudging forward, for my daughter--I couldn't collapse.

And we were getting there--almost all the way there.

Clarissa was born mid-way through my junior year in high school; that morning, I was beginning my junior year in college, and I would graduate that May. My senior year in high school, I had taken elective college courses, and I had taken a few summer courses every summer after. Combined with the eighteen hours that I took each semester in college, I was beginning my new life with Clarissa a little sooner than most--and I was ecstatic about it! I would graduate the University of South Florida--Tampa with a Bachelor of Science degree.

After encouraging my daughter on her response to my question, I stood and offered my hand. Clarissa took it and we walked to the bathroom. I put her dishwater-blonde hair up in her favorite style--puppy-dog tails. Then, I helped her brush her teeth and put on her clothes. We headed for the kitchen and I made Clarissa's breakfast; she sat at the table eating her favorite, fruity cereal.

Mama is going to go get ready now. I will be back in a few minutes, okay.

Clarissa nodded while crunching her breakfast; she was accustomed to our morning routine.

Once in the bathroom, I threw on my clothes, washed my face, and brushed my teeth. I pulled out my make-up bag and threw on my five-minute makeover. My light brown hair pulled up, I swooped my bangs down and headed back to the kitchen. Any time Clarissa and I had together was a blessing and not taken for granted. I retrieved a spoon from the drawer, snatched a yogurt from the refrigerator, and headed to have breakfast with her.

So, I asked, what do Grandma and you have planned for today?

Grandma said we are going to the park.

I nodded my head approvingly. "Well, I hope Grandma and you have a good time playing at the park. Don't play yourself all out, though; Mama wants to have some playtime with you when she gets home. Mama doesn't have to work tonight!"

As I spoke playtime with you, I touched the tip of Clarissa's nose with one finger, which made her giggle. She always liked it when I did things like that. They made her cackle as if I had just told her the funniest joke in the world.

As soon as we were both done eating, I put her dish and our silverware in the sink after I threw away my trash.

Well, let's get your bag so we can get to Grandma's. Mama has a big day of new classes ahead of her.

Clarissa jumped down from her chair and raced for the living room. When I entered through the walkway, Clarissa already had the handle of her bag in her hands and an ecstatic smile to greet me.

I hope school's good today, Mama!

Backpack flung over my shoulder, I picked Clarissa and her bag up. I'm sure it will be, sweetheart.

We walked out the door, locked it behind us, and headed for Beastie--the nickname we had given my old, beat-up, 1966 Dodge four-door sedan. It received that epithet due to the fact that, while running, it sounded as if it were a groaning monster. Once we were in the brute, I crossed my fingers on my left hand as I turned the key with my right, simultaneously praying that the monster would fire-up--and the automobile groaned to life. Clarissa chuckled in the backseat and we were off to Grandma's.

Gene was a wonderful woman. I couldn't have asked for any better a grandparent than my own parents for Clarissa. Unfortunately, I never got to see them with her, and she never got to meet them. My parents passed away in a car accident shortly before I turned fifteen--I became an emancipated minor. Christian, Gene's son, left a great deal desired as a father, but I was not going to take that out on his mother. From the beginning, Gene was there for me, there for Clarissa--even though Christian was not.

In the early stages of my new life as a mother, Gene was beside herself with guilt. I finally convinced her that I did not hold Christian's actions against her, and that I was astounded at the measures she took to be in her granddaughter's life. Gene finally accepted that I pleasured in her involvement, but I think she still carried the guilt that belonged on her son.

Christian and I met when we were fifteen, and we dated for eight months. He broke up with me suddenly for another woman; I would have used the term girl, but Christian thought of her as the perfect woman--I didn't know who she was. Two weeks after our breakup, I found out I was pregnant.

I could never get ahold of Christian to tell him about his child growing inside of me. In a repeated attempt to reach him, I went to his house--another failed effort. Gene told me that Christian had moved out and that she never saw him, but that he called her every once in a while. Since I couldn't contact Christian myself, I told Gene my urgency in reaching him. Gene fell silent, and then she began weeping.

At first, I thought she was upset--angry, maybe--but then I found out the waterworks were from joy. Gene hadn't planned on being a grandma that early--she was only thirty-five at the time--but come to find out, she couldn't wait for the day that she did become a grandmother. The next time Christian called, she couldn't wait to tell him--thinking that he would be as excited as she was and come home. Instead, Christian hung up on his mother. Gene didn't see or hear from him again for over a year; the next time Gene had contact with Christian was because he had moved back to Tampa.

Gene was... unusual in her responses to Christian. She loved him; she said that one day she knew he would do the right thing--at least one of us did. But she was also up-front about her disapproval of his lack of responsibility, even with him. Which, I assumed, was why he didn't visit her often--Christian had never taken well to reprimanding.

He was living in the city, but I still hadn't seen him--and neither had Clarissa. All I knew was that I had been lucky to have never