Risorgimento: Rebirth Read online

  Risorgimento

  Rebirth

  Maya Daniels

  Copyright © 2019 by Maya Daniels. All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references, real places, real events, or real persons names and/or persona are used fictitiously. Everything in this story comes from the author’s imagination and any similarities, whatsoever, with events both past and present, or persons living or dead, are purely coincidental.

  Cover design by Jennifer Munswami

  Interior design by Jessica Allain

  Edited by Cassandra Fear

  Italian translation by Irene Tassistro

  If you are unable to order paperback copy of this book from your local bookseller, you may contact the author at [email protected] or visit the website

  www.authormayadaniels.com

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Rovesciamento - Overthrown

  From the Author

  DEATH BECOMES HER

  Untitled

  Also By Maya Daniels

  Fear is useless.

  Leaning my back on the damp wall of the building in an equally wet ally, I came to this conclusion. It took me long enough to realize it. After ten years of having it as a constant companion, always there to hold my hand, reliable and consistent, it leaves me feeling bare.

  Vulnerable.

  If I don't feel fear, then what should I feel? Numb is not an option. That can get you killed in no time nowadays. Terror, on the other hand, keeps me alive.

  At the age of ten, I was left curled up in the corner of a sewer by my parents, with the promise that they would come back for me after they found food. A ten-year-old girl alone and afraid of her own shadow, waiting for their return. Needless to say, they never did, and I never found out why. I assumed, but to this day there was nothing to confirm that they didn't just run away from the one thing that assured their deaths.

  Me.

  That was only a few months after they came out of the woodwork, claiming their birthright. Or so they said, anyway. No one was prepared to face something they thought was made up to scare children, or fiction characters created only to feed their dark fantasies. Calling themselves Gods, proving it by their superior strength and enhanced senses, left us all bewildered and ripe for the picking.

  They didn't pick, no. They harvested.

  A shudder rattles my bones at those memories. Like a swarm of insects, they infested the world overnight. Literally. Apparently, the oldest ones were placed in an eternal sleep until they got awakened because the monsters were tired of hiding. They are the ones calling themselves gods. Whatever name or title they want to use, we all know better now. Vampires. Night dwelling, fang fleshing, red-eyed monsters. They rule the world.

  In the beginning, the governments thought they could deal with it. Wait until dawn, and with the first rays of the sun, exterminate. It didn't go as planned when they faced brainwashed humans standing as a living shield, protecting their masters. Mind control apparently was a real thing. Humans had two options, serve the monsters, or die. One by one, governments fell, only to be replaced with poppets by the Council.

  Eight thrones were carved out of crystal, placed in the largest Cathedral between Hollywood and South LA. It was done methodically, purposely, to make a mockery of our prayers and rub it in everyone's faces that no holy water or crosses could ever be our saving grace. The statues of saints, sacred objects, and elaborately painted windows were dumped in the front yard as they gutted the building to make it what it is today: The Council towers. Ten years later, everything is still scattered wherever it was placed then, like discarded bones of a once great beast, a reminder for everyone that will see it, ”You tried everything, yet here we stand, ruling over your pathetic lives.”

  It's a powerful one, to be sure.

  Nothing could touch them, and no weapon or strategy worked in our favor. Then, out of nowhere, we started finding them dead, one at a time and never in the same place. Doctors and scientists worked behind closed doors to figure out what caused their deaths. Hope, the cruel bitch that she was, started blooming. We had a chance. It was like the world was holding its breath, anticipation building as everyone sat at the edge of the seat, biting their nails. The longest week passed before the news spread about our weapon.

  It was our chance to go back to the life we knew.

  One thing the self-proclaimed Gods did not expect was that individual humans were their downfall. They drained people left and right, using them the same way we used cattle for our food, not knowing this little tidbit. What the scientists found changed everything. Those with an O negative blood type were poison to the monsters. We finally had something to use so we could fight back.

  We had a chance.

  Whispers spread like a tidal wave of the ocean, gathering everyone willing to help. There were so many brave souls ready to make a stand and save us all. I was only ten and didn’t know my blood type, but I was willing to help, too. To be part of those that would save humanity from the monsters ruling the night. My parents were horrified to hear my older brother's proclamation that he would join the effort, and me telling them I would go to stand by his side. They couldn't stop him, but I was a different matter. The night when humanity made a stand, they bundled me up—my father holding tight to my tiny, writhing body while I tried to escape—and after grabbing only a few necessities, we ran.

  For weeks we didn't know what happened. Living in the tunnels under the city, we waited for my brother to return. To hear a word. None of that happened. After three weeks, we started seeing the vain hope of that stand. Bodies were placed all over, pinned like billboards for everyone to see. It didn't work. Our last hope was sniffed like the blown-out flame of a candle, leaving only smoke and stench in the air. My brother never returned. I never looked too closely at the pinned bodies around the city, and we never spoke about him again. Hatred for the monsters grew stronger, right alongside the fear in my heart.

  That was when the hunts started. The world was turned upside down while they searched for more of those that carried the same blood type. Kill on the spot was their motto. An effective one. The numbers dwindled down until no one carrying that blood type was left.

  Absently, my fingers trace the scar on my neck, the puckered skin a screaming reminder that they missed one.

  For five years after my parents left me, I held hope that we would find each other again. I stayed in that sewer for days, hungry, cold, and scared out of my mind. The minutes ticked by, every sound making me jump while my heart lodged in my throat, but they didn't return. When hunger became unbearable, I crawled o
ut like a drowned rat, scuttering from one shadow to the next until I found an ally behind a restaurant. The dumpster was the buffet to my starving stomach. I lived in that same place for years, hoping, but never leaving the sewer unless it was for food, and even then, I was always looking over my shoulder. Fear was the guide, and I the willing follower. It kept me alive.

  One night, after my belly was full, and my eyes were glazed over from all the food bloating my stomach, I was found. The large shadow blotting out the light at the mouth of the ally still haunts my dreams. Bile rose in my throat, the precious food threatening to come up, while my wide eyes darted left and right looking for a way out.

  There was nowhere to run.

  The erratic jackhammering of my heart, like a bird frenetic to escape its cage, made the monster glide closer and sniff the air. A sinister smile was visible on one side of his face where the light was strong enough to illuminate his features. Seeing his beauty stopped my desperate attempt to escape. A thing of nightmares disguised as an angel. Like a deer caught in headlights, I watched him come closer, slowly kneel beside me, and move my hair away from my face. It felt like I was watching it happen to someone else as I stood frozen, watching his fangs gleam in the light before he struck like a viper, piercing the skin on my neck. The warm air from his breath puffed against my skin, and his tongue glided on my neck while he sucked a mouthful of my blood. When my mind finally recovered enough to remind myself that I was about to die, I opened my mouth to scream. His stiffening body and the crushing grip of his hands on my arms killed the sound before it reached my throat. One second, he was draining my life, the next he dropped like a sack of potatoes next to me, red eyes slowly losing their light as he stared at me with an incredulous look on his face.

  "You!" he rasped.

  I stared back at him, unable to move. Warmth spread over my shoulder and down my chest while we watched each other. When there was no life left in the monster's eyes, I glanced down and realized my blood was flowing freely, soaking my threadbare shirt. That would bring all of them on my tail. With frenetic movements and herculean strength out of fear for my life, I ripped his shirt, wrapping it around my neck so tight I could barely breathe. Taking my own shirt over my head, I wiped the blood the best I could with jerky swipes before burying it in the dumpster. I bolted out of the ally bare-chested, as fast as my shaking legs would carry me. I didn't go to my sewer. That night, I ran as far and as fast as I could. Stumbling and falling, tears streaming down my face blurring everything around me, I ran. The realization that my parents left because I was one of the hunted ones hit me like a rock in the head, making me stumble and fall on my knees, sobbing uncontrollably. I was a curse. A one-way ticket to meet Death.

  And I was alone.

  Pulling out of the memories, my fingers are still absently caressing the scar from that night. I did a full circe. Ran all those years ago, and here I am today. Same city, same ally, even the same dumpster. Only I am different. Until this moment, I can’t tell why I feel that way. That's when I have my realization. A snort passes my lips, the sound bouncing softly off the damp walls in the ally. Jumping at every sound, cringing at every flicker of the shadow didn't keep me alive. I kept myself still breathing by being smart. Smart and lucky, you can say. Being afraid only messes with my mind.

  Fear is useless, indeed.

  April

  "So, you see, luck has nothing to do with right or wrong." Pointing to the soggy fry, brandishing it like a knife at the dirty mutt sitting next to me, I give him a stern look. His short black fur could be white for all I know, but he is as dirty as I am. Which is probably the only reason we are alive. "It has everything to do with time. Timing is the key." His tongue lolls out of his snout, his tail lashing excitedly behind him. Snorting, I shove the fry in his mouth and chuckle when he swallows it whole, not bothering to chew.

  "She's doing it again, Sara." The whispered words coming from behind me make me shake my head, my lips twitching. "She's talking to the mutt."

  "Eddie, that's not nice." Sara admonishes her eleven-year-old brother. "Sorry, April. He hasn't been around many people."

  "Neither have I." Glancing over my shoulder, I smirk at the embarrassed look on her face. "Leave the boy alone. He can say whatever he wants. It doesn't bother me." Turning back to the mutt, I frown at him, "You, on the other hand, bother me a lot. You should go wherever you came from."

  "We really should send him away. He might give up our hiding spot," Sara adds reluctantly.

  I found Sara and her brother huddled in the tunnels a couple of weeks ago. Those not wanting to be blood banks and live under the thumb of the Council and the monsters hid wherever they could. While the rest of the humans continued with life like nothing bad happened, trading corporations and enterprises for monsters that sucked their blood in their spare time, the rest of us hid. We ran and hid like rats in sewers, forests, and any other undesirable place for the mighty gods. In other words, the smellier the place, the higher the demand is for it. The monsters have heightened senses, so if they can’t smell us, they can’t find us.

  Many groups have crossed my path over the years. I've always watched them warily, staying away from them until they realized I wanted nothing to do with them. Not many of us were lucky enough to stay out of sight and not get killed, but there were still plenty. After a few attempts to get me to join them, the groups would give up and leave me to my fate. Being alone was better. It made it a lot easier to run and hide, and much more comfortable to live with yourself because nobody could leave you and never come back. Seeing Sara and Eddie changed that. It might be because the boy reminded me of my own brother when he was his age. I didn't know what it was exactly, but I started talking to them, and we've been together ever since.

  The stupid mutt joined us a couple of days ago. When I was scavenging around dumpsters and dark alleys, I found him digging through the trash looking for food. I chased him away, making sure he stayed away from our food source, only to find him following behind me a few minutes later. He never barked, never made a noise, but he made sure I saw him. He would stand still until my eyes landed on him and the tail would start flicking so fast I kept wondering how he didn't lift up in the air like a helicopter. When I looked away, all movement would stop.

  For the same reason I stayed with Sara and Eddie, I let him follow me here. He has been like my shadow for two days, even sleeping with one eye open in case I decide to go somewhere without him. But Sara is right. We can't afford to gamble with our lives for an animal.

  "You need to go!" Snapping at the mutt, I add a glare as well, hoping he will turn and run through the tunnels.

  The tail does the helicopter thing again.

  Sara snorts.

  "You're not helping." Turning my glare on her, I cross my arms over my chest.

  "Sorry." The second snort tells me she's not sorry at all. She loses the battle and laughs right in my face. "You acting stern is like seeing a chihuahua thinking it's a Great Dane." Even Eddie giggles at that.

  "What's that supposed to mean? I'll have you know I'm plenty scary, thank you very much." A ridiculous urge to stomp my foot almost overwhelms me, but I stand still, grinding my teeth. The stupid mutt decides to pee on said foot at that moment. "Sonofa…" Jumping away does nothing for my soaked sneaker and sock, while the mutt wags his tail, happy that he marked me.

  Sara and Eddie burst out laughing, pressing their hands over their mouths to stifle the sounds. My blood is boiling, and a throbbing starts behind my eyes that tells me I'm going to end up with one of the headaches I've been suffering from a lot lately. The giggles continue until I finally can't stay angry. Instead, my lips start twitching at the ludicrousness of the situation. Chuckling, I rub my hands over my face, slowly lowering myself on the ground. Taking my shoe and sock off with two fingers, I fling them towards the brother/sister duo—who's enjoying my predicament way too much—before rummaging through the bag with my belongings and putting the boots on. The only other pair of footwear
I have.

  Squealing, they jump away from it, and my laughter joins theirs. I can't remember the last time I've smiled, little less laughed. Hearing it now, the sound seems foreign to my ears.

  The mutt crawls closer, his belly scraping the floor. Smiling, I reach behind his ears and scratch him. He grunts softly, pushing his head harder under my hand. My smile freezes, my fingers stopping the movement when Eddie's laughter is replaced by an awful cough.

  The sound coming from his tiny chest resembles the old Toyota I found a few years back. It rumbled, sputtered, and coughed, but it never started. Sara rubs his back in gentle circles, worry scrunching up her round face. Looking closely at them now, I can't believe I never noticed that they look paler than usual, the dark circles under their eyes a glaring reminder we all sleep, just like the mutt, with one eye open in case we need to run. Sara is around my age, a year or two younger than my twenty. Her blonde hair is braided, a few wisps escaping and curling around her smeared face. The dark red t-shirt and blue jeans she is wearing are dirty with stains all over them, looking darker gray than any other color. Her blue eyes dart my way quickly before she looks away, noticing me staring at her. Eddie's dirty blond hair, however, is plastered to his gaunt face, and the longer he coughs, the more sweat gathers around his hairline. The shirt and pants he is wearing look two sizes too big on him, swallowing his gangly body. How have I not noticed something is wrong with him?