Fates Interwoven (Archivist's Downfall Book 1) Read online

  Fates Interwoven

  Archivist's Downfall | BOOK ONE

  Lachie Crayden

  Copyright © 2022 Lachie Crayden

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Thanks to all that helped me out here. You know who you are.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Fates Interwoven

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Books In This Series

  Fates Interwoven

  Archivist's Downfall | BOOK ONE

  Lachie Crayden

  Chapter One

  My head was pounding. I could feel each heartbeat as a drumming pain pulsed through my temples. Slowly, sound and light filtered in. A tapping on the glass sung with the rhythm of rain. Splashing of water. Flashes of light. Roaring engines. My eyes blinked open and adjusted. It was night and the familiar buildings flying past us told me we’re heading towards the city.

  The car swerved hard and the horn screamed. Adrenaline shot through my blood. My heart raced. Eyes wide. Gripping the dashboard. The ache in my head worsened. The throbbing burn turned my stomach. I applied pressure to my right temple, pain radiated instantly. I looked at my fingers and saw a dark, thick liquid.

  Driving beside me was Kiara, my mortal birth mother. There was a fear in her eyes and as much as I wanted to ask what was happening there was only one thing I needed to say to her right now.

  “Did you fucking shoot me?” I screamed.

  “I’m sorry Jaida,” she replied. “I had to tranq you. We needed to go and you were hesitating.”

  “You tranquilised me! Are you fucking crazy?” I screamed.

  We both yelled at each other. One trying to overpower the other. It had been like this for years. From the moment that I decided to move out seven years ago. She has clung to me like glue.

  “Would you just listen! You’re in danger.” She paused to swerve around another car. Their horn sounded, screeching into the night.

  “Jesus, slow down!” I cried.

  “Listen! Someone’s going around killing archivists. And there’s something different about it this time. A friend of mine has just lost theirs and they feel they’re gone for good.”

  My heart stopped.

  “You know about archivists?”

  She slammed her hand down on the horn when a car was trying to cut in front of us. She swerved out of the way and the wheels spun a little more to the left than they should have. She quickly regained control. She glanced at the rear view and took a gasping breath. Behind, a car tailing us. They were driving just as fast and just as crazy.

  “Yes. Every archivist gets a guardian and I’m yours. My job is to keep you safe until you’ve recorded and archived your event.” I stared at her, clutching the chair and dashboard. She knew what I was? Was she an immortal too? “If I’m not there, someone else steps in temporarily. Hold on!”

  We were just about to pass the Mahogany Inn, travelling at 120km/h when she decided to do a near impossible U-turn to go back the way we came. I held on as tight as a could, as the centripetal force pushed me up against the door. My stomach turned and I struggled to take a breath. If she thinks she’s protecting me right now, she’s crazy. We’re going to hit a tree any moment now, I swear.

  The car spun on the wet, oily road. Somehow, she regained control. The car behind still chased us, keeping close. Popping cracks combated with the rain. I tried to make out what the sounds were, and my question was answered with the smashing glass and exploding metal. I screamed as I curled down and covered my ears with trembling fingers.

  “What the fuck is going on?” I screamed.

  “Jaida, I haven’t just been your guardian for the past twenty six years. I’ve been with you since the beginning.”

  My breath caught. “Every lifetime?”

  I hadn’t been alone all this time? For millennia I thought I was just as alone as all the other archivists. But we were never really alone. Thousands of questions about our history grew in my mind and my eyes burned at the thought.

  “Every lifetime,” she whispered. “I just wasn’t allowed to tell you.”

  We jerked forward, my head nearly striking the dashboard. Her eyes darted back to the road as she gripped the wheel tight with both hands. We were struck again and this time, she lost control. Swerving to the side of the road and we flipped in the air several times before slamming to the ground. We hung upside down, pinned by the seat-belts.

  I managed to stay conscious, but my head was throbbing and the nausea was intense. The trickling of water from the road ran through the tangled metal mess. The stench of fuel made me vomit, blocking my airways until I wiped the muck free from my face. I looked around and saw Kiara, hanging upside-down, eyes closed and covered in blood. I started screaming at her, begging for her to wake up. I felt the need to be sick again. I continued to shout her name while my trembling hands felt for the seat buckle. Once I was successful I hit the roof in an awkward angle, only just saving my head, but bruising my shoulder. Sounds became shallow. Streaks of blood across my arms told me I should be feeling pain. But I felt nothing. I rolled myself onto my hands and knees, pressing my chest on the cold metal beneath. The silhouette of the man chasing us was in his car. Unmoving. Just watching. Until I heard the muffled click of a door.

  “Kiara!” I tried to yell, but it only croaked from my mouth. “Mum!”

  I smacked her face as hard as I could. Her eyes slowly opened, then wide. Her breaths fast and deep as she stumbled around trying to free herself.

  “Get out of the car!” she said.

  Red light reflected against the gashes on her head. Burgundy dripped down and pooled below. The air stank of metal. When she unclipped the buckle, unlike me, she fell with a skillful grace. Instantly she found her bearings and was pushing me out the door.

  “Get out and run!” she yelled.

  A moving shadow blocked the red light casting on us. Shattered glass crunched under feet. Louder. Louder. Kiara threw a finger over her lips, holding my shoulder firmly, keeping me in place. Her eyes, now a hawk’s, stayed on his polished boots. Closer. Closer.

  I knew no mortal was coming. No police. No ambulance. If someone was after archivists specifically, we were now in the shadow of the mortal world. A shadow that comes through will or necessity. And right now it was the latter.

  She looked at me, sadness in her eyes. Her hand stroked my cheek. “When it’s safe,” she whispered, “run! I mean it.”

  Smashing the side window, she crawled out lightning fast. A cracking sound echoed through the open air, silencing the rain for a fraction. I looked out the rear window, seeing only legs. I pressed against the ground to get a better view. She kicked the gun away and fought him with skills I had no idea she possessed.

  I couldn’t bring myself to run away. I couldn’t just leave her here. Did she really think I would? She’d just told me I hadn’t been
alone all this time. Every rebirth, she was there, and she expected me to just leave?

  She went for the gun, but he tackled her to the ground. I finally saw his face. He was that stereotypical Man in Black from sci-fi urban myths. Pale white skin, bald, suit and tie. Red shone upon them both, as they struggled for the gun. Cars and trucks roared by, splashing yellow and orange and throwing up water from the road. The rain still fell, keeping a rhythmic motion. Not too hard. Not too soft.

  She managed to bury her elbow into his eye, giving her the one second she needed to take a hold of the gun. She fired two bullets at him, striking the chest and dropping him like a doll. Without a thought she jumped up and ran towards me. She knelt down, looking through the window.

  “What the hell are you doing? You need to…” With the cracking of the sky, there was a cold absence in her eyes before her cheek plummeted against the asphalt. I tried gasping for breaths but nothing filled my lungs. My body shook. Choking sounds escaped my mouth. My eyes stayed locked on hers, hoping that I was wrong, hoping that she was still there. But she wasn’t.

  A hand wrapped tight around my ankle and pulled me out with a swift move. I screamed and kicked as hard as I could, to no avail.

  The rain seemed to disobey the laws of physics, each drop nearing a stop. Sounds around me warped. The man slowly raised the gun up, aiming towards me. I stared into his cold, dead eyes. I held my breath as I realised this was it.

  A thunderous crack shook the trees around us. I felt the shock wave in my chest and it left a ringing in my ears. I instinctively covered my head and curled into a ball. And when I forced my eyes open, I saw that man contorted in a heap in front of me. I turned hesitantly to see another man standing about thirty metres from me, holding a shotgun with both hands. He began walking towards me. I found enough strength to lift myself up and run into the thick bushland beside me. I heard his deep voice call out, but the blood pulsing through my ears muffled his words.

  The trees swished by and scratched my skin. I had one goal, get as far away as possible. The rustling of the branches behind me grew nearer. “Stop running!” he yelled. Inching closer.

  I pushed back the thoughts of wanting to give up, of just letting this happen and getting it over with. But there was a small piece of me that demanded I keep myself alive. A sudden tug at my foot pulled me to the ground. I found myself caught under a tree’s root. Using both hands I freed myself and resumed my, now limping, run.

  He was now too close for me to keep running. I climbed inside a small, bushy tree and focused hard on my breaths. Pain filled my lungs as they screamed for more oxygen. Using the elastic band around my wrist, I tied my hair up and out of the way. From my movement, a sharp pain in my wrist alerted me to a deep gash stretching over the top. Using my teeth, I ripped the bottom of my singlet to create a dressing and firmly wrapped it around to slow the bleeding.

  My heart stopped when his footsteps slowly crushed dead leaves. Occasionally the forest would go silent, except for those deep breaths of his. I silently gasped when the moonlight shone on him. Even though I was the height of an average mortal, he towered over me, and his strong build threatened to break me with a mere glance. My tiny frame had no chance. “We don’t have time for this,” he growled.

  His eyes darted around the area, attentively searching. The metal of the shotgun in his hand sparked soft light into my eyes. A scattering in a shrub on the other side of him stole his attention. Slowly he walked towards the much needed distraction.

  My heart settled to a rhythmic, yet rapid, thud against my rib cage. I had more control of my breathing, but the pit in my stomach now brought an intense sensation of nausea.

  I weighed up my options. He knows that I’ve stopped running and I’m somewhere nearby. So if I stay here, I’m dead. I could run, but I’m not sure how far I could get. So again, dead. My only long shot for survival right now will be to get that gun off him and kill him first.

  In a moment of ridiculous bravery, or more like last act of self preservation, I ever so slowly lifted myself off the ground. I played out the actions in my head over and over as I took cautious steps forward. Inching closer and closer to him. I spied a large stick nearby and picked it up.

  Clutching the makeshift weapon tight, I readied myself to swing as hard as I could. I envisioned striking him across the side of the face, then taking his gun and pulling the trigger.

  “We don’t have all night!” he yelled into the air. With his back towards me I found myself one step away from being in striking distance.

  Snap!

  He turned quickly and his eyes opened wide as I swung the stick strong and hard. Colliding with his shoulder, he flinched and I struck again. He threw the gun to the side and glared at me with annoyed eyes and furrowed brows.

  I swung again, but this time he caught it mid air. We stood there staring each other down in a challenge. My heart raced again as the pain of adrenaline rose. I kept my face taut. He ripped the stick from my hands and threw it away.

  “You done?” he said with an annoyed tone that matched his dark coloured eyes.

  I legged it out of there. I had no other choice. There was no way I could fight him. I needed to get as far away as possible.

  “For the…” he mumbled, then chased me. I barely managed ten limping steps before he grabbed me and spun me to face him. “For the gods' sake woman! Stop running away from me!” he yelled. “Count to ten. Do it!”

  I did as he asked, keeping each number a breath.

  After ten, he said, “Feel better?”

  I stared off into the distance.

  “Do you know much about the situation?” he asked.

  My brows screwed up and I shook my head.

  “All the archivists are being killed, and it’s our job to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  Was he saying he was a guardian? Like Kiara?

  He released me and backed away. I subtly glanced over. He gave out a saddened sigh as he rubbed his head, then lingered on his short trimmed beard. “Was that Kiara?” he asked.

  My eyes were still searching for the slightest movement from him that told me I should run. But he stared, waiting for a response. I nodded. His expression dropped slightly and he turned his back. He balled his hand to a fist for a few heartbeats, then stretched them out wide. He turned back around, rubbing his temple with his fingers.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  He helped me to my feet, and his worrisome eyes looked over my injuries. Silent tears ran down my face. My body was aching. The gashes on my head and wrist continued to turn my stomach.

  “We’ve got to get going before they send more of them out,” he said as he picked up his gun and walked away. “Let’s go.”

  I took one step forward, fell to my knees and emptied my stomach. My head pounded and my throat burned. I curled up on my hands and knees and began crying. He swiftly moved back to me. Kneeling and gently holding my shoulders. Not talking. Just waiting.

  After collecting myself, I forced myself up onto my feet with his help. However, once I put weight on my left foot, the pain was like an electric shock that surged through my body. I lost my balance and he grabbed me as I fell. His hands held my arms gently as he used his body to keep me upright. I gazed up at him. “You’re a guardian?” I asked in a whisper.

  He smiled, “Yes. I’m a guardian.”

  “I don’t think this body’s going to cooperate.”

  His brows crinkled as he looked over me. His eyes fixed on the gash on my forehead. “Here. Hold this.” He pushed the shotgun into my hands, and swept me up in his arms. “Sorry, this will be a lot faster.”

  “I can walk,” I spat, as I tried to wriggle free.

  “Complain to me later,” he said as he made strides back towards the road. “Right now, we need to get out of here.”

  I allowed myself to relax, just a little, which led to everything over the past few minutes catching up with me. And as my energy levels depleted, the world faded.

&
nbsp; Chapter Two

  Sweet, freshly cut watermelon scented the air of the dimly lit room. My eyes struggled to focus as the throbbing pain in my head continued to turn my stomach. I lifted myself up and immediately pain shot through my left wrist. I dropped back down on the dusty pillow.

  “Careful,” said a gruff voice. “You’ve got a concussion. Just rest for now.”

  I turned my head slightly to the left. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust enough to see the guardian. He was slouched back on a retro couch with his shotgun close by. He appeared around mid thirties, with lines inching across his forehead and away from his eyes. He’d changed into an emerald plaid shirt and deep blue jeans. Water shined from his short trimmed hair, and his beard contoured his strong jawline.

  I lifted myself up again, and this time using only my right hand. I pressed my fingers gently on my temple where most of the pain radiated from. There was a prickle at the touch that ran the length of the gash.

  “I had to sew you up in a couple of places,” he said.

  I wriggled against the headboard, the sheet fell, revealing that I was wearing only my underwear. Dried blood had been somewhat washed away, leaving streaks across my skin. Gauze was taped to a few areas around my abdomen and shoulders. With a shiver, I tugged the sheet up and covered myself from the chilled air.

  Slowly I was able to take in the room. It was one of those motel rooms I’d seen in movies. The ones where there was a large bed in the middle of the room, a couch on the side, and a tiny kitchenette in the corner. Towards the back was a door that I assumed led to a bathroom. There was nothing special about this room. It was plain, cream and ordinary.

  The side table between us was covered in bloodied towels and bandages. The contents of a first aid kit spewed across the barely polished wood. When I saw the plate of watermelon, cut into triangles, I reached straight for it. The sweet liquid brings my taste buds to life and distracts me from the pain. I closed my eyes to let this endorphin filled moment wash over me.