The Genesis
(A Blood of Ages #1)
Author: K. L. Kerr
ISBN: 0955984556
ASIN: B00999FXZ0
Release Date: January 20th 2013
Genre: Urban Fantasy,
Paranormal
Summary
The vampires of Dayson
city are preparing for war. Having lived in constant fear of the Archway
Corporation for decades, desperation has forced them into action. Their
solution is to bring the First vampire, Alistair, back from the dead, a
warrior famed for eradicating entire armies in the name of his kind.
For
fledgling vampire Catrina Malinka, the fabled return of some unknown
deity falls low on her list of concerns. Between fending off strangers
trying to kill her in her dreams and trying to rein in an uncontrollable
power that no one else even understands let alone shares, Catrina is
forced to fight her assumed role in the war against Archway, which
threatens to send her down a path she doesn't want to travel.
The
first book in The Blood of Ages series, "The Genesis" is an urban
fantasy about the inescapable nature of Fate and the corruption of
power.
Excerpt
This
isn’t right, Catrina thought to
herself, throwing down another swig of beer without taking her eyes off the man
sitting across the table. She couldn’t taste anything except bile clinging in
the back of her throat, the only body part bruised more than her ego. Her head
still throbbed from its recent encounter with concrete; the music and constant
drone from the bar’s other occupants wasn’t helping.
This
hole-in-the-wall establishment could at best be called an over-sized rattrap
and felt about as pleasant as being in one. Bodies pressed close on the dance
floor below, writhing together to the sound of strumming guitar riffs. An
amalgamation of cheap perfumes and colognes mixed with alcohol and cigarette
smoke in the sweat-slicked air.
He’d
chosen a table upstairs, overlooking the dance floor; the tables up here were
mostly empty. She wouldn’t have chosen this spot. While it gave them a visual
advantage over the rest of the room, it was too far from any exits. After what
she’d seen him do, she would’ve preferred easy access to an escape route. And
witnesses. Then again, if he’d wanted to kill her, he could’ve simply let her
attacker finish the job in the alley.
In return
for saving her life, all the tall stranger had asked for was an hour of her
time.
He’d
already admitted that he hadn’t been there by coincidence, which set her
immediately on edge. After assuring her he wasn’t involved with the
authorities, an assertion she took on face value for the sake of argument, he
claimed to represent an organisation that had been tracking her work for “some
time.” Her initial hesitance had already subsided into suspicion, reinforced by
his now distant composure and the fact he hadn’t said a word since sitting
down.
She
couldn’t take his silent stare any longer. “What did you say your name was?”
“I
didn’t.” His voice was harsh and gravelled, like boulders grinding together. He
offered his hand across the table, as though noticing her for the first time.
“It’s Fox.”
She shook
Fox’s hand out of courtesy but was eager to let go, amazed to get away without
broken fingers. “Catrina.”
“I know
what your name is.” He picked up his drink—a double shot of whiskey, neat—and
dipped the tumbler in her direction before having a taste. “I know a lot about
you.”
“You
mentioned that already,” she said, fairly sure he was bluffing. No one knew
what she did, save for Tony. All other acquaintances—the total of which
consisted of her apartment landlord, the staff at her local haunt, and the
pizza delivery guy—thought she worked part-time shifts packing boxes in a
warehouse.
“I could
tell you what I know.” He made it sound like a threat. She spread her arms,
wordlessly baiting him to do his worst. “Your name is Catrina Ann Malinka. You
are nineteen years old. You despise being referred to as ‘Cat’ and will
automatically correct anyone who tries to call you as such. For the last three
years, you’ve been working as some sort of ‘gun-for-hire’ for Anthony Gostanzo,
the man who fostered you when you were ten.” A lump rose in her throat, as he counted
off the secrets of her life with indifferent ease. “Tonight was just another
assignment, which I was perfectly content leaving you to get on with, until
your gun jammed and your target almost killed you.” He paused to take another
mouthful of whiskey, ignoring her gaping jaw. “You’re welcome for that, by the
way.” His eyes—dark, like his hair and outfit—danced with the laughter his
stern expression failed to show. “I should be expecting a cut from your fee,
considering I was the one who carried out the job.”
Catrina
overlooked the private information he was somehow privy to, the threat of
damaged pride spurning her. “I had everything under control.”
He took
out a cigarette. The lighter flame caught a distant gleam, a spark flashing
across his eyes so brief and fleeting she decided she must’ve imagined it. “It
didn’t look that way to me.”
“Maybe
you should’ve left me, then. Now we’ll never know who was right.”
A thin
line of smoke trailed through his barely parted lips. “Maybe.”
Despite
the sculpted perfection of his face, arrogance was Fox’s most prominent
feature.
“You said
your people have been watching me for ‘some time’.”
“I did?”
“Are you
planning to tell me how long ‘some time’ is, or even why—”
“It
wasn’t my people watching you,” he interrupted, tapping excess ash from his
cigarette. “It was just me.”
She put
up her hands. “Whatever. Why have you been watching me?”
Completely
ignoring her question, he said, “I’m going to get another drink. I’ll get you
one, too.” He was already walking away. She must’ve still been light-headed
from her fall, because she didn’t see him get up.
His
presence was a distraction in itself. She leant over the railing, watching him
descend the stairs to the ground floor, where the mass of people swallowed him
up. His height and pale features were more accentuated within a crowd, but very
few paid attention. He didn’t even need to avoid walking into people; they
moved aside on their own. The sea of bodies parted for him to pass without
acknowledging he was there.
Definitely
not right, she reminded herself.
She ran
her hand across the small of her back, feeling the reassuring presence of the
Beretta handle protruding from her jeans. While in its current state the gun’s
uses were limited, its mere presence provided enough reassurance.
Before
she had chance to wonder how this complete stranger who she’d never seen before
tonight seemed to know absolutely everything about her, Fox returned
with another set of drinks.
“Where
were we?” he asked, handing over a fresh beer to replace the empty bottle still
in her hand.
“You were
about to tell me why you’ve been stalking me.”
He lit up
another cigarette, handling the flip-lid lighter, which looked older than both
of them, with habitual detachment; he must’ve been smoking for years. “I wouldn’t
call it stalking.”
“Following
a girl around long enough to know the nicknames she doesn’t like?” She folded
her arms. “I’m sorry, what would you call it?”
His smile
was so slight, barely a smirk; in that brief moment, he appeared somewhat older
than the early-twenties she’d initially assumed. “You should just be thankful I
was there.”
While she
wasn’t about to admit it, she was thankful, confident in the knowledge
that she would’ve died out there, had Fox not intervened. That look of equal
parts fury and glee in her mark’s rounded face would undoubtedly haunt her
dreams for some time.
“Look,”
she said firmly, “I’m grateful for the help. Really. But I want you to tell me
why you’ve been watching me. Now.” She tried to make herself sound threatening,
but she felt like a kitten arching its back and hissing at a lion.
The lion
just raised a brow. “And what if I don’t?”
Between
the immense strength already demonstrated and the wealth of information he held
over her, she realised just how significant her disadvantage was. Before her
temper made her retort to the challenge, she did the most rational thing she
could think of and rose out of the chair to leave.
She found
herself looking at Fox’s chest as she turned. She wasn’t imagining it; he was
moving faster than she was. At five foot two, she’d always been considered
petite, and in comparison to him—well over six feet—she should’ve felt
overpowered. She just stared up at him, blue eyes ablaze, calling his bluff.
He
relented. “All right. Sit down and I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
She slid
back into the seat without taking her eyes off him, silently revelling in her
victory.
“You can
start by telling me what you are,” she said. Immediately, his expression
hardened, brown eyes becoming cold as steel, mouth thinning into a tight line. Got
you, she thought. “What is it? Secret service? Military? Are you
genetically engineered?”
“I can’t
tell you that,” he replied, taking back his second drink in one mouthful. “Not
at this stage.”
This
stage. Despite piqued interest at the mystery hiding
behind his stony stare, she struggled to keep frustration from her tone as she
asked, “So what can you tell me, Fox?”
“That you
could become the same thing,” he replied without pause, “if you wanted. That’s
why I’ve been charged with watching you. The organization I represent wants to
hire you, and they couldn’t do that if you were dead.”
“And
that’s what this is about?” She gestured between them. “Is this supposed to be
an interview?”
“No.” He
crushed out his spent cigarette. “They already know they want you. The job is
yours, if you want it.”
She had
come across plenty of powerful people in her life, but none had abilities the
likes of which she’d seen in Fox. Whether it was some controversial
muscle-enhancement drug concoction or military exoskeleton suit, she didn’t
much care. A wealth of opportunity spread out in her mind’s eye. Just the idea
that she could possess such power made her want to blurt out an acceptance
right there and then. But as the thoughts came to her, so too did the guilt,
gnawing in her gut and adding fresh stabs to her temples.
“You know
all about me, right?” she checked, to which he nodded. “Then you already know
what I’m going to say.”
“You need
to consider your obligation to Tony, to weigh how much you owe the man who
raised you, despite the fact you’ve been all but estranged the last six months.
So you’re going to say, ‘Thank you for the offer, but I’ll have to think about
it’.”
“I’ll
have to think about it,” she echoed, offering no thanks, which earned another
slight lip curl from him.
He swept
his arms into his coat as he stood. He presented her with a slip of paper,
which she unfolded to reveal a handwritten address she didn’t recognise. “Think
carefully,” he said from over her shoulder now. She made a mental note to pay
more attention while he was in the room in future. “This opportunity won’t come
again. If you want to go ahead, be at that address tomorrow night, eight
o’clock. If you’re not there, we’ll assume you aren’t interested.”
He’d
reached the stairs by the time she turned in the seat. “Wait, that’s it? What
about the details? What about the perks? Am I getting in on the company pension
scheme or what?”
“We can
cover details if you choose to go ahead.” While his expression remained
unchanged, another spark in his eyes had the hairs on the back of her neck
standing to attention. “You have all the information you need.”
“Right,”
she said, glancing down at the paper between her fingers. Even though you
haven’t really told me anything about yourself, or the company you represent.
There’s “need to know” and then there’s just ridiculous.
She looked up to say
this, but of course he was gone, leaving only a faint spice of cologne behind.
She slipped her head into her folded arms on the table. The bruising around her
neck hurt when she swallowed; it reminded her that while the night hadn’t gone
perfectly, at least it wasn’t her last night alive—thanks to Fox.
Author
Born
and raised close to North York Moors, initial setting of American Werewolf in London, one might be excused for thinking K.
L. Kerr's interests might lie with those furry beasts. But she has always preferred
monsters of the fanged variety, having written the very first draft of her
novel, The Genesis, aged sixteen.
When
not writing, Kerr can be found playing the MMORPG, World of Warcraft, or
listening to music from video game soundtracks. She still lives in the North of
England, close to The Moors (keeping to the roads, naturally), with two cats
who--like all cats--think they're people.
Wolf Spell
