The Tidings of Misfits

Copyright © 2023 Jordan DugdaleAll rights reservedThe 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.ISBN-13: 9781234567890ISBN-10: 1477123456© Cover design: Franziska Stern - www.coverdungeon.com - Instagram: @coverdungeonrabbitLibrary of Congress Control Number: 2018675309Printed in the United States of America For everyone who never stopped believing in me.For my family, who always supported me.For Matlin, my love, the voice of this story.For Josh, Ellie, Quinn, Mitchell, and Hannah–you are the heart of the Misfits.For those out there who have never felt like they’ve belonged.The Misfits will always have a place for you by their side. Trigger warnings∞∞∞ Sexual content (all consensual, multiple partners, mention of genitalia, nudity)Violence (standard fantasy violence - gore, blood, murder, body horror, mutilation of corpses)Slavery (very brief in the beginning, and then mentioned in conversations later)Bigotry (brief situation)Violence against children (brief situation, non-sexual) / Child deathAbuse (emotional)CultsAlcoholismTrauma PrologueCassiusThe smell of blood woke Cassius from his long sleep.The pain of consciousness was excruciating. Blood stained his lips. Every time his tongue darted out to taste it, his bloodlust sent him into a fit of panic and rage. His mind fractured into a million pieces as he scrambled to cling to his memories, but they were slow to return. The rush of blood flowed through him, reanimating his corpse as it pulled fresh skin over bones where it rotted and decayed. He could not see as darkness consumed him, making him even more aware of how hungry he was. His fangs ached, longing for the soft flesh of a neck or thigh to bite into. Oh, how sweet and succulent the taste of blood would be between his lips if he could just muster the strength to move.A soft whimper echoed off stone, and it was only then that Cassius realized he truly could not see. It was not the darkness that blinded him as he reached up with shaking hands to sockets devoid of any organs. A breath shuddered through him, the first breath to move new lungs that had regrown from the dust of his previous body. He knew the salvation from his rotting corpse: blood. Only the curse of his vampirism could save him now. He tried to cry out, to seek whoever had woken him, but no sound passed his lips; there was nothing more than a desolate exhale of air.“Drink,” a woman said. Her voice soft, like waves crashing against a shoreline. Her fingers slipped behind the back of his head and lifted it to the supple flesh of a wrist. Was it her wrist? No, he could sense her steady heartbeat behind his right ear. Whoever was being offered to him was frightened, her heartbeat matching the pace of a terrified deer caught in the eyes of a wolf. “Drink, Cassius. Set yourself free,” the woman whispered.As his fangs brushed against the wrist, his mind was lost. A frantic feeling built in his chest. It thickened like sand–suffocating, clawing, itching, burning. He was a slave to its nature. He quelled any desperate attempts to resist such nature, drowning in the maelstrom of bloodlust that consumed him. A soft cry bubbled between his lips as he bit down, as the blood pooled in his mouth, as the world turned to color again. The blood coursed through him, awakening his lungs, his heart, and his stomach. He felt it travel all the way to his toes as they curled against the chill of the stone. Tears poured down his cheeks as his eyes reformed, the body he exsanguinated coming into a blurred view.A loud gasp echoed against his cheeks as he pulled away, the body of the woman he had just murdered falling to the floor. The other woman’s hand was gone from the back of his head, and his eyes adjusted quickly, revealing the dusty tomb they had confined him to. In the back was the shuffle of feet, the quiet cries of several people as they moved to get as far away from his coffin as they could. Cassius expected them to scream, but none of them did.Leaning over the stone, he threw up until his stomach spasmed and tears blurred his vision. His fingers curled over the edge of the coffin, his heart unsteady against his chest. His lower stomach cramped as he gagged, but there was no more blood left to purge. He did not want to feed again, did not want to see the light fade from their eyes, but knew it had to be done, for he hated the husk of a creature he became without the blood.“More.” His voice came out no louder than a whisper. “Need more.” A person leaned down to grab a rock from the floor and flung it at him. It hit the wall behind him and bounced off. The noise startled Cassius and he hissed, his lips pulling back over his teeth as his fangs extended. One human started to cry, and Cassius turned his head away, realizing that whoever fed him before was no longer in the room with them. If he wanted to feed more, he was going to have to do it himself.Strength returned to him slowly as he pushed himself out of his coffin. His arms gave out during the first attempt and he hit the ground hard, grunting as pain shot through his right hip. His hunger for blood kept him moving, his eyes trained on the humans huddled in the corner. He was a predator in the darkness, their heartbeats a betrayal of their livelihood.“I’m sorry,” he called out. Was he sorry? Guilt swam in his chest, calling out to the quiet, gentle boy he had been so long ago. That softness was nothing but a ghost