This is my first story on FanFiction, and I'm open to ratings and opinions! Thanks!
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE HOUSE OF NIGHT BOOKS, CHARACTERS, ORIGINAL STORY-LINES, OR ANYTHING LIKE THAT. ALL OF THAT BELONGS TO P.C AND KRISTIN CAST!!!
Chapter 1
It was dark, and I knew being outside at this time of night was a bad idea; it was the time when vampyre trackers were on the hunt more than any other time of day. They lurked behind dumpsters, hid in the branches of trees, or poised themselves on rooftops waiting to swoop down and Mark you. Not exactly the kind of world that's safe at night, huh? But, of course, there's no true reason to be afraid; I mean, come on, vampyre trackers only select the chosen kids, the special ones. No one in Broken Arrow is special; well, except for Zoey Redbird, but she's not exactly in BA anymore.
She's in all the stories I've ever heard about Oklahoma vampyres. She was Marked ten years ago and has climbed her way up to High Priestess of the Oklahoma House of Night. No one really knows why her goddess chose her to be the most unique out of all vamps; it just happened. And, from what I've heard, she's totally worthy of it.
Not many humans know as much about the vampyre world around us as me. I've been around it my entire life. My mother, Melanie McIntosh, has a brother whose a vampyre, and he still keeps in touch with us. I love hearing his stories, but I've never wanted to be a part of the vampyre world. It's just too strange.
But now, as I walked home from buying paper for a school project, I knew that I need not worry about becoming a vampyre; I'm definately not a Zoey Redbird. In fact, I'm not even a- Whoa. What was that? I heard shuffling in the bushes that outlined the cracking sidewalk, and then a cat walked out. The feline was small and skinny, with matted black fur and a tail that was crooked. The poor thing was as ugly as a cat could get, but I leaned down to pet it anyway. I've got some softness in me for mistreated animals.
"Kitty, kitty, it's okay; I'm here now," I murmurred to her. That's when I heard the running and looked behind me. What I saw shocked me into stillness. It was an undead- or whatever you want to call it- vampyre Tracker, his sapphire blue Marks standing out against the pale white of his skin.
He came running at me, yelling the ceremonial words I'd heard from my uncle's stories. "Eliza McIntosh! Night has chosen thee; thy death will be thy birth. Night calls to thee; hearken to Her sweet voice. Your destiny awaits you at the House of Night!" With his last word, a long bone-colored hand pointed out at me, followed by a sudden, terrifying pain in my forehead.
The next thing I knew, black blurred my vision a, sending me tumbling over and landing on my back because of the leaning position I'd been in. Then the tracker disappeared, leaving me alone in the cold blackness of a still Oklahoma night.