Undying Chains

By McKenzie Stark

What happens when truth is tested?

When friends become foes and nobody can be trusted. Do you run or do you face it.

Katherine Incendia is strong, dangerous, stubborn and lets not forget sexy. Years dedicated to Artemis the Secret Assassination Service that has controlled her life. What happens when the odds are tested? W

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kingston Publishing Company
• Release date: Oct 14, 2018
• ISBN: 9781970068566

Book preview

Prologue

The Beginning

1869

He looked unhuman, like nothing I had ever seen before. Yet, at the same time, I felt as though I knew him. His clothes were torn to shreds, showing off the muscles that lay beneath. His hair, short and unkempt and as black as night, was a big mop of a mess as pieces hung over his eyes. He stood about 6’2, a 5 o’clock shadow on his face, and his eyes... his eyes were pure black, a glittering onyx that was impossible to look away from yet chilled me to the bone when our eyes met. He was a frightening mess, impossibly handsome, and eerily familiar.

  I eased my way over to where he was chained inside the closed cell wall, his arms bound by rusted chains cutting deep into his flesh, leaving their red painful marks. As he lifted his head slightly to the side, his eyes held mine. I found it hard to look away from him; it felt like I was falling into a black hole, a never-ending world of darkness. The fear overpowered me, but I held my ground. This need to help him washed over me. But why would he want my help? Wasn’t I the one who placed him in this locked up, beaten down cell in the first place?

  He’s evil.

  That’s what I was told. I could sense a presence in the room other than the prisoner and me. I strained to see through the distorted dark shadows framed only by the fire of the two torches that shed light here, the only image I could see was one of blackened shape. However, as my eyes adjusted to the darkness around me, I could make out the light glow of his eyes reflecting off the fire, giving away his presence.

  He deserves to die, Mr. Stone spat out, glaring at the chained prisoner.

    Nobody deserves to die, not even him, I reply, skin crawling.

  Dear Katherine, can you not see the hunger in this man's eyes? The need to kill is there, laid out before us, he thrives for the blood of his victims. Can you not see that? he asked, making a smacking sound with his lips in disappointment.

  Truth was, it wasn’t that I couldn’t see it. I could see the anger and disgust, the pain of his victims swirling in the depth of those haunting eyes he continued to shoot bullets at me with.  It was the fact my soul didn’t believe it. The truth is in his eyes, but somewhere deep down my heart was shouting at me, telling me that I can’t let myself believe the worst in this man - that somewhere in those dark haunting eyes, there is love.

  He mustn’t live for his sins, therefore he will not! His voice raising as he spat the words harshly. Pacing to the edge of the cell, I grabbed hold of the file hanging from a thin rope and scanned over the documents enclosed. Keeping my eyes astray, refusing to look at either of the men before me.

  Okay, so maybe I was stalling; did I honestly want to have this conversation with Mr. Stone? No. . .I answer myself.

  It doesn’t make any sense. . . There is no documentation of this man ever having a record of any kind, yet we track him down like a wild pack of wolfs? All over a handful of unexplained deaths, with no evidence stating that this man is guilty.

  A handful of deaths, people bitten, and bodies drained of blood. The facts are all there, open up your eyes! He steps into the light of the small dusty light bulb hanging from the brick ceiling of the dungeon.

  I exclaimed aloud, Please tell me you are not still on this fantasy of yours that supernaturals are among us!

  How else shall we explain the deaths of Devils Den? The possibilities are there. The research, the chain of events, the very pattern of the deaths linking one to another. There is no other way to obtain the research we have been doing ourselves here and the only thing that seems to reason with the results is that supernaturals do in fact live among us. Bodies bitten and drained of blood. . . vampires. The prints covering more than half of the forest’s grounds. . . Werewolves. Simple logics, Katherine.

  Devils Den, within the northwest corner of Kern County of California is my home, the place I grew up and have cherished my whole life. The name although does not help with the theories of supernaturals recurring here, but the name is home to me. Spending my last eighteen years wrapped in the extraordinary odds and ends of this Town, its impact can be seen. What Mr. Stone is suggesting is foolish, naïve and quite frankly; beginning to make a lot more sense to me. . .The logic is there, there are too many deaths to be accounted for and at the end of the day; the impossible seems all the more possible. Yet. . . this man, his presence is clouding my better judgement. . . or is it? The proof has yet to be provided for me to let myself fully accept the foolishness of the theory.

  The proof just isn’t there, Mr. Stone. I shake my head, unclouding my thoughts.

  His eye’s tightened, Why are you here then? If you cannot accept our logics, our beliefs, and can not come to terms with the theories we provide? Why are you here wasting my time, Katherine Incendia?

  Because. . .

  I was caught off by a husky deep russian voice, Might I intervene, I do believe this woman has beliefs of her own; let her speak her mind and not deny her of her own thoughts and observations that you so desperately believe.

  I groaned.

  How dear you speak your tongue in my home?! You are a discrimination within these walls and will be treated as so, Mr. Stone says harshly.

  Ey did not stutter my words, you have mistreated those that have given their lives to you and you refuse to give them any acknowledgement of their success.

  Mr. Stone boils over at Alexanders slight smirk, his amusement swimming in his eyes. His fist connects with metal, the CLANK of knuckles hitting a solid surface echoes loudly and painfully

  Mr. Stone accedes into the light of the small light bulb hanging by a thin metal bar just before the cell. Grabbing a folder from the doctors desk to the left of the cell, he pushes it into my chest, Mrs. Incendia, please get Mr. Advise here prepped and ready for his evaluation, be sure to advise the other Doctors to take special. . . care in getting the results we require.

Wait. . . We can’t pass an evaluation without all of the correct documentation required to perform these proceeders. . . I know damn well that he has not obtained those documents, especially for Alexander considering we made a way to Devils Den less than 4 days ago. So how does he plan on getting this past the Insiders corporation?

  That isn’t possible, without the right documentation, written consent from the higher people it is out of our hands. I will not break the rules of our people.

  You let me handle that, now get to it. We need him prepped before sun down, so I recommend you get started. He turns and stalks to the far side of the dungeon. Through a small cave that heads to the underground cave, just within the underground dungeon where all the Doctors and staff men and women gather to go over their findings and work together to develop a conclusion of either success or failure.

  Why do you let him control you? Alexander asked.

  Don’t, I said, turning my flaming eyes his way, Don’t speak as though you know my situation, you do not know me nor my life; butt out of it.

  He falls silent leaving me to my thoughts as I gather the paperwork and head to inform the other doctors of the preparation. You see, for the last five years; since 1864 I have worked for the Artemis, I grew up surround by the insiders and in a way, they became a family to me. The Artemis, which is run by the cooperation of a higher power, founded in the early 1800’s by Nick Gomez, who this town knew as a crazy Scientist, believed that supernaturals walked the earth among the human race. Known remarkably as creatures of the night. 

    The scientist was in fact crazy. He began the Artemis by kidnapping innocent citizens and using them as test subjects for his foolish beliefs. His experiments later became massive, more people began to get involved and soon they were developing more test subjects, experimenting and analyzing the data they collected. A group of Scientists came together to create this new secret cooperation, a group known as the Insiders. When the operation was first developed the founding scientists decided on creating law, these laws were intended to protect its workers without truly creating a hell storm of trouble. One of these laws consisted of not going through with any experiments without the proper paperwork provided by the cooperation.

  Those beliefs were taught to me by my father, Zachariah Incendia from occasionally riding along when he was called in to work on his tactics. The Insiders had moved their research to a more suitable and private location beneath the old Saints Church laid in an underground tunnel, about half a mile down the fire lit tunnel sat a dungeon. To the right of the Dungeon three cots line the floor where the scientists performed their experiments, small tables on either side of the cots holding needles, odds and ends. To the left there are rows of cells one after another, about 12 of them sat clustered together and directly to the back of the dungeon was the small cave.

  When I turned 18 years old, just four months ago. My father died an unexpected death, no one would give me the information I longed for and instead I was left in the dark of what truly happened to the man that raised me all those years. After that I made it my life to finish his research, and I have been ever since. . . No questions asked. One night I was assigned to bring in this man, it’s because of that night, that everything  changed.

  I could almost feel his stare piercing through my head, turning I catch the eye of the prisoner. . . .His expression calm, almost in understanding. Hmmm I think, now why would he know how I am feeling. After speaking with the Doctors and giving them the form to start the testing, I let myself rest against the rocks, next to the caves entrances watching this mystery man, chained and captured inside the small, ancient, and rusty cell… a forgotten memory slowly surfaces. . .

    It was a cool morning, the sun just barely risen over the horizon, the orange and yellow rays forming beautifully over the small clouds that hung above. You could breathe in the sweet smell of roses that lined our farmhouse front yard, just below the kitchen window. The farm sat just 5 miles outside the closest store and surrounding houses.  It’s peaceful in its own way being so far out of reach. I would go outside and walk the trails just within the forest trees that line our backyard one after another, sitting on dark dirt with tree branches and rocks at their feet. I would walk until my pores would ache, taking in the feeling of being free - the beauty and loneliness the forest holds. The chirps of birds, the rippit of frogs in the small ponds that nestled comfortably in the forests arms, the sight of a mama deer walking beside her little babies. Home, this was what home felt like.

    Katherine. My father's voice drifts up from the bottom stairs, pulling me from my thoughts, allowing me a moment to recollect my position in the shower, Honey, hurry on down here and get you some breakfast. We are going to be late.

  I rush from the bathroom throwing on my red blouse while struggling with my shoes, grabbing my bag off the computer desk chair I head for the door stopping long enough to throw my hair up into a messy bun. I make my way down the stairs and into the kitchen, grabbing a bagel on my way out I make my way to where my father's 1864 Woodie sat parked beside the farmhouse in the hand made dirt pit my father made so his baby wouldn’t get drenched in the rain. While waiting for my father to gather his stuff, I sat patiently, jiggling in my seat anxious to get to the office, to watch my father in my usual amazement.

    This was my everyday routine, I’d go along for the ride and spend the day with my father while he studied and created new facts. I never got told what it was all about except that I was too young to know and, It’s to better the world., as my father's boss would always say . . . I guess it never really mattered to me seeing as it gave me an excuse to spend time with my father and ever since the day my mother, Ivy Incendia; passed away, that always seems so hard to do.

    The screen door banged against the house as my father walked out. Throwing his stuff into the back, he climbed in behind the wheel, turning the ignition, he put the Woodie in drive. The clinching sound of the engine was loud as we started forward. My head ended up in the clouds  reminiscing about the good o’days. You see, since the day my mother died  my father hasn’t been the same.  He has been more distant than anything. He put himself into his work, ignored my attempts at getting him to notice me, and he even stopped caring about my life in general. I could get in trouble and he would never know. Things suddenly changed.

You’re cheerful to go to work with me today, My father said.

  Giving him my best smile I say, C’mon dad, this is our everyday routine!

  He laughs, watching the road ahead of us.  I haven’t heard him laugh in what feels like forever. I wanted to hold on to that sound, keep it close to me so I would never forget what it sounded like having my father in my life. But sometimes, what you want or wish doesn’t happen

****

  The sound of the Woodies tires screeching as my father pulls into the parking lot of the old Saint Church draws me from my peaceful slumber. I must have fallen asleep, pulling my head up from where it rested on my father's shoulder, removing the jacket that sat wrapped around my shoulders, I watch as