The Greyman Saga Ch 01

Authors Note: Hi everyone, thanks for reading the first chapter of the Greyman Saga. If you're hoping for immediate fucking and such, this might not be for you. There will be a great deal of sex, but it happens on its own time. If you want a story with magic, action, world-building, and romance AND sex, this will hopefully be to you liking. Also, I tend to write in a way that throws the reader into the world. Not much exposition, not much term explanation. I want my readers to be intrigued by the concepts I've created and learn about them as they go. I hope you like it!

PS. Please like/comment your thoughts! I'd love to hear feedback and see if I should keep releasing chapters!

Chapter 1

A Dread Surprise:

I opened the door and stopped almost immediately, confronted by something I had most certainly not expected. Dark hair. Curves. Eyes like warm coffee only just mixed with fresh cream. The smell of strawberries filled my nose. I knew I was staring.

"Hello? Can I help you?"

My ears vibrated with the sultry timbre of her voice, gentle jazz and fiery blues dancing oh so delightfully in my ears. I cleared my throat, attempting to tear my eyes off her heaving chest which was barely covered by a lacy black thing that hardly constituted as a dress. It barely met the requirements of lingerie. She smiled at me, her darkly coated lips curling into a playful curve of mischievous understanding.

Thankfully, her obvious recognition of my blatant admiration reawakened the more rational side of my drifting mind. I returned a smile as well, a shaky impersonation of one at least, and met her eyes.

"Hi--Yeah. Sorry. I was under the impression no one lived here. Are you..." My question trailed awkwardly.

She tapped her finger gently against her chest, sending a series of ripples across her skin that made her chest shake just ever so slightly. My eyes lowered, following the traveling waves longingly.

Focus Joran. What are you a fucking a teenager? Azzerai above...

"Oh, I just dropped by. Didn't know I'd be here either," Her pleasant smile widened as she paused, "just stopping in to see some old, uh, friends."

I nodded, feeling my mental faculties returning to me.

"Sure, that's fair. How exactly did you get in, though? There's no one supposed to be home..."

Her face flushed with embarrassment and I saw her smile falter ever so slightly.

"I...may have a spare key. Is that a problem?" She said the words with an innocence I can only explain as evocative.

The same kind of tone an adult actress assumes while asking if there's anything she can do to make up for being late with the pizza. I coughed forcefully, feeling my throat constricting. I felt surprisingly hot, and my cheeks were abnormally flushed.

"No, no. Uh--It's not a problem, I'm just their cleaner. See?" I pulled gently at the blue coat I wore, my name tag clearly visible under the company name.

Her eyes widened in realization.

"I'm so sorry. You've probably got a job to do and I'm just standing here babbling! Come in!"

My mouth opened to respond, but it was too late. Her hand gripped my own gently, pulling me into the dimly lit entryway. Her hands were soft, and warm. I felt my brow furrow.

That's strange.

"Can I get you anything while you're here? Water, beer--Oh wait," She giggled softly as she dragged me along.

The outline of her hips and the pleasant jiggle of her exhibited rear were all too visible, even in the minimal light.

"You're on the job, so no drinking right?"

I nodded, but she wasn't even looking at me, just leading me like some quasi-erotic tour guide.

We passed out of the front hall, turning right and passing under a wide archway into the main foyer. It was brighter in here, a large window illuminating her form as she turned back to face me.

"Well, I'm sorry to be in the way, Mister. I didn't realize anyone would be coming. My friends aren't here so I was just kinda milling around. Gettin all lonely. Honestly, I'm glad you showed up." She took a step towards me.

"Then I made you wait at the door forever. I'm such a ditz. Honestly, let me make it up to you..." She nodded at me with a desperate seriousness, her eyes wide.

Those eyes. They were rich like chocolate, and more sensual at a distance then the touch of most lovers. I could feel my hands quivering. This felt like something out of an erotic and ill constructed dream. The set up, her outfit, the way she looked like she was preparing to get on her knees in front of me. I could feel the heat in my chest beginning to plunge downward. It had been a long time since I'd felt this flustered.

"It's no problem. I'll, uh, just get started. Don't you worry about me." I said the words quietly, watching her lean closer as I attempted to step backwards.

It did not seem she was done 'worrying about me' in the slightest.

"But I feel so bad, making you wait out there...Let me apologize. Pleeeease." Her eyes were nearly bulging with sincerity as she fervently nodded, willing me desperately to agree with her need to remedy the situation.

She reached her hand towards me. It was a simple and harmless action, but I felt my heart beat slow.

How incredibly transparent.

"Elix." I hissed sharply.

Before her hand could touch me, a thin strand of green energy gripped her wrist, wrapping it tightly. I jerked my head to the right and her arm followed, steered by the binding as I latched the spectral cord to the far wall. The girl let out a confused gasp, attempting to quickly grab the green restraint with her free hand, but it was to no avail. Her reflexes were good, but not that good.

She swiveled her head in the opposite direction, perplexed by her inability to move her other wrist and her eyes widened as she realized it was similarly bound.

"Evon." I said shortly, watching closely as the viridian strands tightened on either side of her, raising her upper limbs outwards.

A moment later she stood with both her arms splayed out to her sides, her beautiful eyes indignant. I chuckled. She looked like a lewd imitation of Jesus on the Cross.

"Wh--what is this!?" She said the words with a startling level of surprise. Her voice was still alarmingly sensual amidst her startled disposition.

It almost made believe her Bambi-eyed stare.

"C'mon love, that was a rather poor showing in seduction. All brazen tits, no silver tongue. Plus," I tapped my nose, "I could smell the Moor on you like you'd been bathing in it."

Her mouth fell open, but she said nothing. I gave her an empathetic smirk. My description of her attempt at getting me to let my guard down wasn't entirely accurate. She had been acting outrageously licentious, but it had been strangely effective. It made very little sense to me why, and how, that could be. Regardless, it didn't matter at this point.

"Don't feel bad. I'm pretty good at my job. But..." I let my smile fade, staring her directly into those enrapturing eyes,

"I can't let you fucking Dreads just go around killing children, now can?"

She wasn't a Jollick, that much I was certain of. But, given the disappearances I'd been sent to investigate, she was still a Dread that had a particular enjoyment for eviscerating and consuming the young.

I felt a sudden urge break her neck. It wouldn't kill her, but it would hurt like hell.

Ease off, Joran. Mother would be disappointed in your lack of control. This isn't Edinmoor.

I felt a spasm of self annoyance force its way past my bloodlust, then bit my tongue lightly to draw my mind back to the present. I waited only a short moment after to speak again, having gathered myself adequately.

"You killed the family that lived here, correct?" I forced a casual tone as I asked the question.

She blinked rapidly, staring at me like she couldn't believe what she was hearing. She also remained silent.

"The eight year old twins from a month before as well? Did they suffer and scream for their parents while you ripped them apart?" I added the last part with a bitter taste in my mouth, looking to goad a response from her.

Dreads typically enjoyed reliving their unspeakable monstrosities and claiming their work with toothy, proud, grins. Well, at least the Dreads that could grin.

"How about the baby that went missing two months back. Did that...fill that Dread tummy of yours?" I glanced at her lace covered stomach and shook my head.

She just continued to stare at me like I was stark raving mad.

Is she really trying to play out this con?

I narrowed my eyes, watching her intently. She could perform all she wanted; there was no mistaking that smell.

Strawberries and smoke.

Dreads came in many shapes and sizes, but they all bore that same trait. Even the ones that looked like they had just crawled out of a sewer.

"You...you're," The girl finally began to speak.

Her words were stuttered and slow, but her eyes were full of a sudden dark brooding.

"Yes, I am a Greym--."

"AN IDIOT."

I paused, shocked by her sudden outburst. I raised my eyebrow, looking at her curiously. The Dread was rolling her eyes, her previous placative expression gone, replaced by clear annoyance.

"I'm not who you're looking for, Greyman." She said the words with the same luscious tone she had everything else, but her words were laced with an amused scorn.

I opened my mouth to speak, but couldn't find any words. I felt my face scrunching in a disbelieving respect. Her acting seemed to have vastly improved in the span of just a few minutes. I studied her eyes and posture intently.

"You're a Dread." I said plainly.

There was no reason to be coy. I was certain.

"Yes, but not your Dread."

I squinted my eyes, crossing my arms and tilting my head in a speculative stance.

Is this some sort of unorthodox tactic to leave me utterly vexed?

If it was, it was working. Not that it would do her any good. My befuddlement would not free her from Tu'wil bindings.

"Not my Dread, huh?"

"No."

I tapped my foot on the wooden floor, my eyes fixed on her glowering lips.

"What does that mean, exactly?" I asked curiously.

My interest was being pulled in spite of my better nature.

She didn't respond with words, simply nodding her head to the left in the direction of something out of my vision's perimeter. I smiled, not removing my eyes from her.

"That's a lot of work simply to have me look away. You certain it'll give you the time you need to make a move?"

"OH MY GOD." She nearly shouted the words, her curve laden body nearly dancing as she shook with utter frustration.

"There! Look right fucking there! The Dread you're looking for is already dead, you absolute MORON."

I held my hands in front of me, clenching and unclenching them, amazed. It was the only way I could convey my sheer lack of words at the girl's continued charade. Her dark lips were trembling, her mouth slightly agape as she glared at me. I let my hands fall, tilting my head as my eyes roamed her up and down.

Is this Dread for fucking real?

This girl deserved to be on Broadway. Fuck, she deserved at least the chance to gut me after that performance. Either that, or her words bore the truth of something I had not yet discovered. I smirked at her.

"Fine. I'll look," I said the words calmly as I turned in the direction she'd gestured.

Despite her aggrieved state, I knew she was surprised by my sudden choice to simply listen to her. It didn't need to see her expression to know that. I knew how Dreads worked. They preyed on stupidity, yes, but they did not expect arrogance in the likes of a Greyman. Overt confidence was an inherent trait of all the denizens of Dredincross, but it was not one that was often flaunted against them. To see me so casually forget her after recognizing the danger she posed was likely dumbfounding. However, that was not my problem.

"Yenna Ev'moorhun...Bones, keep an eye on her will you." I heard the soft sound of claws materializing on the floor behind me as I scanned for what the Dread had been pointing towards.

As I did, a squeak of fear issued behind me.

"That's...that's a-a Scemera. A fucking Moor Hound." The girl's voice was a timid rasp in comparison to what it had been before.

"Yeah," I replied absentmindedly, my eyes finally finding what they were looking for,

"and she's a good girl. She won't let you make any sudden moves while I figure out what's going on here..." My words drifted into a rambling echo, and I stepped across the room towards what I'd spotted.

It was a large space, with a central rug spanning the majority of the ground. There were no tables, or surfaces of any kind, only furniture for lounging. Against the far corner, one of the bigger chairs was on its side, and its shadow seemed to be oddly shaped. I reached the sprawled-over seat and stepped around it, staring down at an admittedly strange site.

A gray husk was visible, flakes of its degenerating skin beginning to fall like settling silt to the floor of a river bed.

It was a Jollik.

A Jollik that had been shrunk down to over half its size mind you, its six armed body almost entirely drained of fluid. It was essentially mummified.

"Ehhw." I said, making a disgusted grimace.

I shifted my stance slightly, looking back over my shoulder at the restrained Dread. She did not look at me. She only had eyes for Bones, and they were eyes filled with fear.

"You did this?" I asked.

"Yes. Elvaris, you're a bit slow aren't you." She glanced at me reflexively, but her attention was still firmly on the Moor Hound.

I couldn't help but smile, turning my attention again to the small, wolf-like creature that was sitting calmly in the shadows of the entryway to the foyer. Casting one more glance at the Jollik, I returned to where I'd been standing previously, giving the golden eyed Scemera a gentle scratch on the head.

"Thank you Bonesy, that's a good pup." The Moor Hound panted happily, her white tuffed ears wiggling but she remained watching the suspended Dread unwaveringly.

I turned my attention back to her as well, my curiosity growing deeper with each second at the woman that I had ensnared.

"Who are you--What are you?" I asked plainly.

The girl met my eyes. Her emotional distress seemed to be fading.

"What kind of Greymen has a Moor Hound?" Her voice was extremely skeptical as she ignored my question.

"The 'me' kind."

"Is it going to eat me? I hear Scemera's go crazy for Dread flesh. That's what the books in the Sellaris Library say."

I shook my head.

"No. Bones is typically just my watcher. She won't touch you without my say so. You've been to the Sellaris Grand Library?"

The girl breathed in deeply.

"If you say so..." she said the words nervously, then nodded. She also ignored my question again.

"Fine. Oraa."

There was a sharp snap, and the green strands that had been holding her in places shattered into a shower of emerald threads.

I touched the tips of my index finger and thumb together, focusing my mind on the tether that connected Melidlyl's hilt and my hand. I felt my joined fingers pulse. The familiar handle was in my grip an instant later, the black blade unreflecting as I pointed it at the now free Dread.

She had not moved, outside of letting her arms fall.

She lifted her hands back into the air genteelly, but I could see the shivers running through her body as Melidyl's ennem became overwhelmingly present.

"Relax," Her words were a soothing string of calm despite her nervous eyes.

I did not, in fact, relax.

"I just was gonna put some clothes on." She said the words with forced lightness and lifted her fingers.

I felt my body tense, my hand stilled only by my irrepressible fascination with the unfolding events. I could feel Bones's coiled posture behind me, but the Scemera remained in place as I had instructed. We both watched the dread with cold assessment.

The woman looked like she might throw up, but she clicked her fingers together silently, and there was a slight sound of pressure being released as a long black robe appeared in her hand. She pulled it on before smiling and crossing her arms. It was a trembling smile. She then slid her left hand briefly inside the robe and there was another soft hiss of pressure. I couldn't see what she would have summoned or released, but I could guess.

I let my grip loosen somewhat. She was using Twill. That was...troubling.

"I assumed you were using ennem manipulation to look they way you do..."

I said the words offhandedly, in an attempt to right my teetering mind.

I was both frustrated and oddly happy to see her lustful frame had not changed.

She scoffed loudly, raising her hands to her impressive bust. She lifted the now hidden mounds playfully. The girl's brazenness was unnerving.

"No illusion needed, baby. That body you're drooling over is very real."

She let her hands drop, propping them on her hips.

I could hear the confidence returning to her sultry voice and I felt my cheeks redden just slightly. Even a brief glance told me she wasn't lying. That physique was incapable of being hidden, even beneath the loose fitting silk she now wore.

"Done staring? I thought you Greymen were supposed to be professionals." She said the words teasingly, bobbing up and down a little to make her assets shift enticingly.

I sighed, letting my hand drop as I released my own tether. The ominous sword vanished instantly, and I clicked my fingers, irrepressibly annoyed. The snap-vex I'd been wearing since arriving at the house dissipated, the rough blue uniform fading like clearing mist.

I needed a reset.

This was proving to be a rather confusing errand. I had much preferred the simplicity of my previous excursion back in Nevada. The thought made me grimace, thinking of Mark's vacant eyes at the hospital in the aftermath. At least no one but me was at risk for this.

"Aww. I liked that uniform," There was a provocative bite to the girl's voice, "but..."

She raised her eyebrow approvingly, looking me up and down.

"You clean up nice. Do Greymen usually wear suits?"

I ignored the compliment, unbuttoning my blazer and crossing my arms. I stared at her blankly, disgusted with my own uncertainty.

I was Joran'aethos Wen. A Greymen. The son of Azzerian High Witch Melizar Wen. I was the first wielder of the Twilight Melody in two centuries. I was a prodigy of the Neyoma family line, able to master the art of Tempo by the time I was eighteen years old. And, most importantly... I actually was a professional.

I glared at the Dread.

"Talk."

"Ooh. Bossy. I like that." She winked at me, her previous virility reappearing in Melidyl's absence.

I glared harder.

She made a small pouting face, then shrugged.

"What do you want to know?"

"Did you kill the family that lived here?" It was a question, but I said it with such spite it felt more like an accusation.

She widened her eyes in obvious annoyance again, lolling her head back as she let out a deep sigh.

"NO. I already said that."

"Why are you here then?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"NO. It's not." I could feel my grit returning, venom lacing my words.

"I was following the Jollick. You know. To kill it." She said the words like it was the obvious conclusion to draw from such a situation.

"Why?"

She hesitated, not responding in the steady cadence she had before.

I held up my hand sharply, then swiveled my finger. I wanted to keep her on her toes. Throw her off balance.

"Different question. What kind of Dread kills other Dreads?" I tilted my head, waiting for her answer.

She seemed to be struggling with a response.

"Oh, feeling a bit stuck?" I said smugly.

"Well, no. I guess it's just kind of stupid question."

I felt my left eye twitch.

"

And why is that?"

"I mean you're a Greyman, right? Shouldn't you know what Dreads hunt other Dreads?"