The Foundlings: Book One of the Urban Fantasy Paranormal Vampire Series, The Foundlings Read online

  The Foundlings

  Book one of The Foundlings

  urban fantasy paranormal vampire series

  by

  R. M. Garcia

  www.rmgarcia.com

  The Foundlings

  R.M. Garcia

  Copyright © 2011 by R. M. Garcia. All Rights Reserved http://www.rmgarcia.com

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2011910465

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book was printed in the United States of America.

  CHAPTER 1

  The Chase

  IT WAS MARCH 2011, and the air was thick with the aroma of the sea. There was a strong breeze blowing off the coast today, and it was carrying a misty sea spray far inland. Donnie, Espee, and Nox could still smell it this far into the city. Donnie loved the smell of the sea; it always reminded him of happier times spent with Abbie. They were in a hurried pursuit now, running as fast as they could to catch up, but the distance they had to make up at this point was significant. Donnie and Espee trailed closely behind Nox. They ran past cars, over and around buses and early morning traffic, navigating past them as if they had been standing still.

  “Fuck me! These guys move fast!” Nox yelled. The athletic Vietnamese male was moving at a pace that was hard to follow; yet Espee and Donnie managed to keep up.

  “Just concentrate on Abbie’s scent, culo!” Espee yelled back in her obvious Hispanic accent. “As long as you don’t lose it, we’ll find her!” Espee was extremely concerned. Donnie was at the edge of panic, and she was not sure how he would react once they caught up to them. She was glad she had Nox along; he rarely lost his focus, always cool headed despite his foul mouth.

  “Easy enough, boss. They had a weird smoky scent. I won’t lose it!” he replied. Nox could tell Espee was worried about Abbie. He knew she used insults to obscure her true meaning as he had known her long enough to know what she was truly feeling. She always dreaded losing any of her so-called kids, and Abbie was no exception. The trio was moving at inhuman speeds, only a blur to any human eyes that did manage to spot them. They ran down alleys, leaping over fences and dumpsters. Not that it mattered, because at this time of the day there was barely a soul around to witness the chase. This area of town was mainly a slum, littered with abandoned buildings and low-income housing. Although they were moving virtually undetected, they were all still very worried. Dawn’s light was quickly approaching, and that was not a good time for any vampire to be outside.

  “Nox, can you tell what Bloodline they’re from?” Espee asked as her body noticeably began to smoke. Nox couldn’t smell the light amounts of smoke emanating from Espee but could tell she was fighting through some discomfort. It came across clearly to him in her voice.

  “Yea, boss, looks like we are dealing with our old friends, the Reich.” Nox continued to lead the group. He was their only chance to find Abbie now. They were counting on his ability to track by scent. Even though all vampires’ senses were incredibly heightened, he could actually track by scent alone and sometimes even identify which particular Bloodline a vampire had been birthed from. It was a rare ability and an invaluable asset to Espee in her struggle against the formal Bloodlines. He had been by Espee’s side for a long time, and she considered him her right-hand man.

  Donnie was praying that Nox wouldn’t fail and that they would find Abbie soon. He was also glad to have Nox along. He had once told Donnie that he was part of the Vietnamese war but never elaborated past that fact. Donnie could tell that he had at some point been a soldier, and he was no stranger to combat. He was small in stature, a mere five feet six inches, but that did not diminish him in anyway. He was a master of several martial arts and was incredibly fast and agile, even by vampire standards. He and Espee worked like a well-oiled machine when they set their mind to a task. Donnie and Abbie had often wondered how deep their relationship actually went. “Not good, won’t these bastards ever give up!?” Donnie yelled. The concern in his voice was unmistakable.

  Espee kept a fixed gaze on Nox and did her best to follow him. “No, not them . . . to them, Abbie is worse than a Foundling. She is an impurity to their Bloodline. To those putos, she shouldn’t even exist.” She almost tripped; the approaching rays of the sun were already hindering her movements and draining her of her strength with every passing moment. She was trying to calculate how much longer she could hold out before they would need to take refuge. Donnie reached over and steadied her. She glanced back to him and nodded her appreciation. “Keep moving!” she yelled as she regained her balance. She hadn’t been concentrating; she was wracking her brain. She was always so cautious, and even now, she kept trying to figure out how the Reich had found them.

  Earlier that night, everything had been progressing normally. Nothing seemed amiss or out of the ordinary. The evening was about to come to its inevitable end, just like hundreds of nights before. Most of the group had already hunkered down for their day’s sleep. They were a motley crew, an assortment of refugees that spanned every race, color, and gender. They were also a good group; they looked out for one another like family. Somewhere along the line, they had adopted a name to call themselves; they called themselves Los Nomados, which meant the nomads, a name that suited this den very well. Espee was the oldest among them. Esperanza Alonso, or Espee as she preferred to be called, looked to be in her mid- to- late twenties and was of Latin descent. She had a thin but fit frame, accompanied by flawless mocha skin; she truly was a beautiful woman. Her accent was hard to place; it was definitely based in Spanish, but it seemed to be somehow mixed with something else. Many of Los Nomados suspected that she was much older than she let on, and she refused to divulge her exact age. Espee usually spent this time of night walking the halls and perimeter of their selected sanctuary for the evening. She had always made sure all was safe and secure and that everyone under her care had made it back safely before she herself would lie down. This particular night, they had decided to rest inside of an old barge that had once served as a floating restaurant. It had been moored off an isolated pier and had long since been abandoned. The barge had three levels, with the bottommost level having crew quarters, which now served as an ideal resting place. Despite being in such bad shape on the exterior, it had been surprisingly dry and solid on the inside; it was a good rest spot. The pier was at least one hundred feet from the shore, so anyone approaching would be easily spotted.

  Donnie and Abbie had been brought to live among this group of Foundlings about six months ago. After the events that happened in Tranquility, having any place to stay was a welcome respite by the pair. After five years on the run, the opportunity to stay somewhere safe was a true blessing, even if Miami was far from the ideal place to hide. Miami and its surrounding areas was a spectacular city that had a vibrant nightlife, but like any large city, it also held its share of dangers. It was littered by slums and rampant crime and drugs. Donnie and Abbie had found that it was quite difficult to survive here. The constant danger of the formal Bloodlines executing Foundlings on sight remained a constant threat.<
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  Donnie and Abbie had learned that the hard way, that existing as what they were now was not easy. A Foundling, as they were called, was an anomaly in the world of vampires. The term “Foundling” was an old English word meaning orphan, and that was exactly what they were now, orphans. Every vampire originated from a Bloodline Source, and each Bloodline could only birth a certain number of vampires from its Source. The exact number, as Espee had explained, was a closely guarded secret. Each Bloodline was also unique and possessed individual qualities granted by their blood; Bloodtraits were what she called them. Some of these traits could only be taught, and this too was kept deliberately obscured. Other Bloodtraits were just an inherent part of the Bloodline, like Nox’s ability to track by smell. As it turned out, Foundlings complicated the formal Bloodlines’ order and their possible numbers. For every risen Foundling, there would be one less vampire available to the corresponding Bloodline. Every formal Bloodline down the line, from the Reich all the way to the Ancient Old Ones, cared not for Foundlings. They were considered loose and uncontrolled ends, and thus they were not tolerated.

  A Foundling was an accidental birth of a vampire and was created when a vampire killed a human by drinking all of their blood. Although this normally would not make the victim rise as a vampire, on extremely rare occasions, for some unknown reason, it did happen. No Foundling knew exactly how or why this happened; many could barely remember the attack that resulted in their deaths. Most Foundlings never survived more than a few nights, because whenever any new one was discovered, the formal Bloodlines would swiftly massacre them. As a result, if they were lucky, they tended to huddle together for their own protection through safety in numbers. This existence tended to be wrought with danger and constant fear. An attack could happen at any moment, and one thing was sure. The formal Bloodlines had the numbers, the power, and were well organized.

  The knowledge on how to birth a new vampire offspring was also a tightly guarded secret. As of yet, no Foundling knew how to birth a new vampire intentionally. Espee did not know why the formal Bloodlines hunted down Foundlings so mercilessly. Maybe they were afraid that one day the Foundlings would outnumber them or that one of them might discover the secret of making more. Either way, to most of the Bloodlines, these bastard offspring, these “accidents,” were simply intolerable.

  Espee was always exceptionally careful to protect any and all Foundlings she came across and had become an expert at protecting them, from what essentially were vampire hate crimes. Her Nomados were taught to survive, to hide, and to avoid detection, and acted like a mother to everyone she cared over. Under her watchful eye, her wards were taught the vampire basics. They were instructed in skills, like how to feed without killing, and how to defend against attacks. The best technique she passed onto her Foundlings was how to avoid detection, not only from humans but from other vampires. Because of Espee, they also had many excellent hiding locations for the day’s sleep. As a rule, they never stayed in one place for more than a few nights.

  The abductors came in so hard and fast that no one had a chance to react. They went straight for their intended target, straight for Abbie. They consisted of a tall man and a shapely woman, and they both bore the obvious Aryan features attributed to members of the Reich Bloodline. Their raid was executed flawlessly. They infiltrated the barge almost at dawn and with military precision made their move. The masterful use of flash bang and smoke grenades disoriented and stunned everyone. For all of Espee’s plans and preparations, her safeguards and rules, Los Nomados simply were not prepared. It had been all too easy for these attackers to invade their ranks and snatch up one of their own.

  Once they had Abbie, they made their escape, and to avoid pursuit, the kidnappers set off explosives on the exterior hull of the barge. Everyone left inside was left disoriented as the water rushed in, further adding to the chaos of the attack. The barge sharply listed, capsized, and sank within moments. This both covered the kidnapper’s escape and prevented pursuit in one precise detonation. Los Nomados were left astonished by what had just happened.

  While everyone was feeling a sense of panic, fearing a full-scale attack, Donnie felt nothing but anxiety. Espee had been right about one thing; they had snatched Abbie for a completely different reason. She had never truly been a Foundling. Espee organized Los Nomados quickly, and they broke through the hull as the exit to the barge was now blocked by the sea bottom. Once it was clear that it was an isolated attack and that there were no more assailants, they all swam ashore. It had taken them a few minutes to escape the barge and gather on the shore, but to a vampire, a minute might as well be an eternity. Once everyone else was accounted for, Nox picked up the scent, and the pursuit began.

  “Boss . . . any idea how old they are?” Nox asked as they continued their chase.

  “Not too old. We three should be able to take them. I just hope there are only two,” Espee replied. Age was a very important concern at this point. The older the vampire was, the stronger and faster they became. The Bloodline that took Abbie was called the Reich. They had first appeared around 1945, which meant that the oldest ones among the Reich were about sixty years old. They were Caucasian in appearance, light skinned and blonde, crystal clear blue eyes, and often quite good looking. This also meant that they were more resistant to the effects of the sun. The younger the vampire was, the better it could resist the effects of the sun. This resistance lasted for about one hundred years. After that, this resistance rapidly faded. Ultimately, it didn’t matter how old a vampire was; the sun would always win, and it was only a matter of time. Nox had been a vampire for thirty years. Donnie had been one for about five years, and Espee’s age was unknown to Donnie, but it was certain that she was older than one hundred years of age to Donnie now. The sun was affecting her harshly now.

  “There! The Grassi Building, they went in there. Get ready!” Nox yelled. The five-story building had once been a local government office, and it had long since been condemned. By its outward appearance, it was probably being used by drug addicts and the homeless now. The building had a sun-bleached look to it, with its yellowish brick face. Its visage was marred by smoke stains and burn scars that still remained on its exterior. Obviously a fire had forced its closure. All the windows had been boarded up, and the perimeter of the property was guarded by six-feet-tall steel fences. The building’s entrance, a set of double doors, stood slightly ajar. Donnie increased his speed easily overtaking the lead from Nox.

  Espee and Nox intended to vault over the steel barrier, but Donnie crashed right through a section of the fence. The steel barely put up a fight, and he easily bypassed the metal as if it was made out of paper. Espee and Nox looked at each other in disbelief as they followed through the gap he had created. Not many vampires could have done what he did, at least not one his age. Heading into definitive danger, the three of them entered the building and closed the doors behind them. At least now, the assault of the sun could be halted.

  Surprisingly, the building still had power running through it. The hall lights were on, making it very easy to see. A large desk dominated the central space of the reception area. It was covered in a thick layer of dust, clearly indicating to the fact that it had not seen use in quite some time. The air in the building was filled with a light haze of pungent smoke, reminiscent of a lounge or nightclub. Several of the lights were flickering on and off, and for a moment, the only sound that could be heard was the low hum of the florescent tubes overhead. Nox immediately stiffened as he sniffed the air. “Three, four, no six . . . I smell six of them . . .” As they gathered their wits and processed this new information, their attention was drawn down one of the halls leading off from the reception area of the office building.

  Exiting from what may have once been an office; three men calmly strolled into the reception area. They were each quite tall, easily over six feet in height. They were garbed in vintage black Nazi uniforms. The Reich now stood before them. The obvious leader of the group, denoted by the m
edals and accouterments on his uniform, began to walk closer toward them. The other two soldiers remained in their place guarding the hall.

  “So . . . you have come to rescue the freuline? That is very brave but foolish. I must insist you remain here until we are done,” the leader stated as he walked brazenly deeper into the reception area. He showed no signs of fear as he continued to advance. He was dressed in the uniform of a Waffen SS commander, “I do not wish to harm any of you,” he said as he casually lit a cigarette. He possessed an air of arrogance that was quite apparent. The look of disdain and disgust that he shot at Nox, Espee, and Donnie was unmistakable.

  “You have one of mine, and I want her back maricon!” Espee demanded. She was utterly concerned now. The three men before them were not the two that had abducted Abbie. The commander’s confidence was also troubling her. He had something up his sleeve, and she tried frantically to devise a plan of action.

  “I think I have been quite merciful to . . . what are you called? Yes, Foundlings, we call you scheisse. You are of no real concern to us, and you would be wise to remain that way for as long as you can,” the commander said. His tone reflected what he thought about all Foundlings perfectly. “As for the freuline, it took us long enough to catch her. We are not letting her go.” Donnie stiffened at the words proclaimed by this Nazi. The smug bastard stood there, taking puffs of his stinky cigarette as if he did not have a care in the world. “She is ours now, and we will do with her what should have been done five years ago,” he informed after exhaling a cloud of offensive smoke. “Come now. We are stuck in here until nightfall. We might as well talk about . . .”

  “Nooooooooo!” Donnie cried out. He sprang forward catching everyone off guard at his burst of speed. In a blink of an eye, he was past the commander and his guards as if they had not been there at all. The smoke in the room was violently disturbed and formed into spiral swirls by Donnie’s sudden exodus. Instantly Donnie was rushing up the stairs. Damn it, Donnie! Espee thought, you left us outnumbered.