Everyone was listening now, their eyes shifting with fear. We weren't supposed to talk about this.

"We should move on," she said.

"Not yet. In the movies...." I began.

"In the movies. The main characters die. I'm not saying we are the main characters, but he was spot on about the basics and he made the rules, and I think we may be at least some of the main characters. He never wrote about this part...some did but not him and only he can make the rules."

"But...."

"But nothing. We're on our own now. No one ever cares about the main characters past the initial struggles. No one cares what comes next. Mr. Romero never mentioned all the changes. For everyone"

Neal could handle it all. He had handled his worst nightmares, killed them and run from them, hid, and survived. He had learned to play witty word games. He had watched the creatures sleeping, and had seen a little girl mouthing the word mommy over and over in her sleep. Her shirt had been matted with dried blood and pus.

When the girl moaned and reached for him, Neal had felt nothing as he shot her in the head, because that was simply what they had to do, but he hadn't only shot her because she was infectious or would bite if she got close, but because he wanted her to stop dreaming. It was obscene.

Neal saw a few of the others inching for the doors, ready to run away. Neal wanted to scream; he wanted Jenny to stop talking. He was afraid she might say what Neal was thinking, and if she did, he might scream and scream forever.

She said those three words that terrified him to his very soul, "We are all evolving."

Want to read more from Catt? Visit her website to learn more about this author and her awesome books!

http://www.cattd.com Mia Darien Descent Demeter.

The goddess. Not she who is mother to the earth, but she who is earth mother. Her compassion gave the people the knowledge of growing and cultivating, how to survive off the earth's bounty. Her anguish rent the world and shaded half the year in cold. She who held no fear to confront the god of death, to show her power to Mount Olympus itself, all to have her daughter Persephone back.

She whose steps nourish the ground, so that people might live from it. A powerful ally, a powerful enemy.

A powerful ancestor.

This is what my mother, Cyrana, told me: that she was the issue of a brief coupling between Demeter and a mortal man. It was where, she said, our power came from. I never found reason to question the story, for power we did have. We had power that others did not, or if they did, they hid it very well and more than we cared to.

The story that I shall tell took place in the twelve hundreds B.C. - twelve centuries before the birth of Christ.

I lived near the Black Sea at that time, in a region known as Thrace. I was not born there, as far as I know, but my mother had never told me where I had been born. She was dead, my mother, by the time I lived in that place. I chose it because, at that time, I was devoted to Ares, the god of savage war and blood lust. The mountainous areas of Thrace, with its war-like people, were said to be most like him. It was also said that he had been born of that violent land.

They did not call me witch then. In those days, I was simply Ioena. No one could tell my age and staying on my good side meant good things for one's crops and live-stock, particularly horses. Their crops and sheep I cared little for, but for what from those things they would pay me with. It was a way for me to make a living. I could use my powers to encourage good growth in fields and easier tempers in animals. (Unfortunately, I was not able to use this power as keenly on humans, just animals.) Their horses, however, I was happy to tend. It was said that Demeter chose to run in the form of a mare and she has often been associated with horses by those who worshipped her. I suppose that would explain my affection for them, although I never spent much time wondering why.

It was a blessing, our ancestry, my mother had said, although it was weaker in me than in her, for my father had been mortal. This was as much as I ever knew or cared to know.

My life was a strange one, but it always had been. In every place I lived, I was a part of it and yet wholly removed. Thrace was no different, but I felt more at home there than anywhere else. People were good to me because they feared me, which is also why they stayed away except for matters of business. I did not mind that, though, as I liked my independence from other humans. This is a trait that has grown stronger in people in the years since, but it was not as common then. It only added to the aura around me that kept others away.

One morning in spring - when Demeter's daughter was with her mother for half the year and the earth bloomed again - I made a decision, the long term consequences of which I could not have begun to comprehend. I wanted to make a gift to Ares. I wanted to make a gift above and beyond all other offerings I had ever made, or that anyone else would give to him.

There were four mares in my possession. They were beautiful and strong, graceful in ways that only horses of their nature can be. They were pure black in color and their fur gleamed in sun and moon light. It would be hard to part with them, for I adored them above all else, but I wanted to give only the best to Ares. They would be wonderful gifts, perhaps even consorts for the four fire-breathing stallions who pulled his chariot. They would be as lovers, like Ares and I had once been.

I am sure that you wondered why I was devoted to Ares when I was a descendent of Demeter.

The problem was that the mares were completely docile and would be no match for Ares' steeds.

"A small change," I whispered to them as they grazed.

I stayed near them until night fall, exerting the full will of my power. If my mares were to be given to Ares, they had to not only be strong, but fierce. They had to be as fire - powerful and consuming. By the time that darkness descended, they were precisely what I needed them to be: four man-eating mares. They were viscous, wild and untamable, though they did not harm me, for I was as their mother.

Speaking to Ares as if he were there - for I knew he could hear me - I told him of my gift to him. I fell asleep in that small field with my horses. In the morning, they were gone and I knew that Ares had taken them, for I had made them so only a god (and I) could handle them.

They were magnificent.

A lot of my power was wasted on such small things: helping bring a good harvest or calming the live-stock of farmers. In this, it felt good to create something great and strong.

It was some time later that I would encounter Ares upon the road. He simply appeared and I was caught quite off guard. It might seem odd to you, but in those days, gods walked among us when ever they chose. He chose to appear to me as he always did, and as he always would to others, for he was too proud to disguise himself. He wished to thank me for the horses, and I was very flattered, until he told me that his son Diomedes had them.

One does not simply argue with a god, but oh how I wanted to argue with him. I wanted to scream at him, curse, and rail against the lack of feeling that he had shown me. I was most devoted to him, so was I not worthy of more attention in my offerings than that? I had poured time and energy in to creating a gift worthy of him alone, and he had simply cast them off to one of his bastard sons. I did not care that Diomedes was the king of Thrace. He was not my king!

I said nothing of how I felt and watched as Ares departed, leaving me to contemplate the fickleness of the gods... and of one in particular.

Years would pass. I did not get to see my mares in all of that time, nor was I ever able to again create anything that was their equal, and I tried.

Then, during a day that was like any other, a terrible tale found its way to my ear.

One of Zeus' many half-mortal children, a man named Heracles, had slain King Diomedes and fed him to my mares. This part did not cause me any significant alarm, for Diomedes was a giant and would make a good meal for them. No, I was not upset about that at all, for he should never have had my beautiful mares in the first place.

The part of the tale that bothered me was what came after. This Heracles had bound and stole my mares, who were then sated and calm from their meal, and he had taken them to some King Eurystheus - yet another king who was not my king but who had been given my horses! Then, this unworthy man had turned and offered these magnificent creatures to that arrogant pig Zeus, who did not wish them. I would have been glad for their survival and escape from sacrifice and would have gone any length to get them back, but Zeus had sent wild beasts to slay and eat them.

It was as though those beasts had eaten my heart. It was as though I was the one torn to shreds and lying in their bellies. I cannot define nor describe my anguish, or the level of my sudden and over-whelming desperation.

There was only one place that I could go to for help.

I wanted my horses back, but they were in the bellies of beasts and even killing those animals would not bring them back. If it would have, I would have hunted down each one and torn them apart with my hands.

No, this required stronger measures. I could not seek out Ares to help me, for this was entirely his fault in the first place. Besides, this was not his area. I had to seek out the divine assistance of one who knew of death.

I descended in to Hades.

I... do not wish to tell about my time there, but to say that Hades is Hades, in both the place and the god who over-sees it. Years passed above, though it did not feel like that long while I was there. It took me a great while, but I finally struck my bargain.

The details of the arrangement are unimportant and none of your concern, because I say that it is not. Suffice it to say that I managed the task I went down there for. It had really taken most of my time in that place to convince the god of the underworld that I would keep my side of the deal.

In the end, I got what I wanted: a way to bring my mares back.

Unfortunately, I could not simply give them life again. This was because they had been killed as well as consumed by beasts serving a god's bidding. There were no longer any bodies to reanimate, and I could not even piece them together for they were locked in those animals by the will of Zeus. Hades could only give me their spirits. I had to supply the bodies.

It was not easy to seek out horses for slaughter, for the affinity that I have always had for the creatures, but this was so that my mares may live again. It was a necessary evil. I chose steeds from different places and in far reaching areas, so that their disappearances would not be suspicious. I used my power to lure them away to my home.

Once I had found and slain the four mares I needed, I was able to use my powers together with Hades' blessing to call their spirits back from the underworld. They slipped upwards like mist from the ground - pale silver clouds in a night sky. I guided the four mists to settle upon the bodies of these other horses, and one by one they did.

Watching with growing excitement, I waited for them to come to life, but my excitement became dread before too long. Nothing was happening! I moved to one and pressed my ear to the cold flesh and fur and I could hear no heart beat. I closed my eyes, and began to weep with my head resting upon the corpse's shoulder.

But then... the body twitched.

I jumped back at first, startled and terrified with primordial instinct. My heart beat painfully hard against the inside of my breast as I stared at the mare. She twitched again and then again. They happened more frequently as time seemed to creep by. I crawled closer to her head. The horse's eyes were open, glassy and wild and of a pale white color, as if there were some thin substance covering them, yet I knew she could see. She... was alive, yet not in the ways other things were. I did not then know the term or concept to describe these creatures. All that I knew was that something strange had occurred.

Tentatively, I laid my hand on the pale fur of her jaw line. She calmed a little and let me pull her head on my lap, stroke the soft fur of her nose and ears. She turned her milky eyes towards me and I found curious depths there. She was like a child, I thought, who had yet to learn how to make her body function in the way she wanted.

"You were fire itself," I whispered to her. "As if Prometheus had brought you to the people and not the flame we warm ourselves by. You can be again. You will be again," I promised her. Looking in to her eyes, I thought that perhaps she understood and believed me.

The night grew long and I was tired, but I could not stop now. I concentrated on my mare with that part of me that held power, mind and spirit, urging her to her feet. She whickered a soft, muted noise through a thick throat and then shifted, twitching, stumbling laboriously to her feet. Once there, she swayed but stayed up.

One by one, each of them began to awaken and I did the same for them all until all four were on their feet. It was almost dawn by then and I lay down, exhausted. In their painful, wavering gait, each walked over to me, like children to a mother. Their noses were still cold, like death, as they sniffed me and touched my skin, but I did not mind.

I had them back.

Over the days and weeks to come, I spent most of my time with my mares. I kept them hidden during the day, lest anyone think wrongly of them and try to harm them. I took them out to roam at night, for they were most obedient to me and I had no fear they'd run away. They grew to frenzy when others came close to our home, however. This was how I knew that it was truly the spirits of my horses who were in these bodies, although they looked so different.

During this time, I could feel my power growing stronger, darker. I used it to help my mares learn better, to move better, although it only went so far. Plus, I still had other obligations to the Thracians that were a matter of my own survival, so this used some of my time and power as well.

What else occurred was my process of learning about them and what sort of creatures they were. The only thing that, at the time, I could think to call them was the 'living dead', for they were both living and dead. Their spirits were undiminished, but as time passed, I saw that their bodies were decaying around them. At first, they did not seem to notice, but every now and then, they would look at me in such a way as broke my heart - like they knew, but did not understand. At least they did not seem to be in any pain from what was going on around and inside them - not physical pain, at least. If it did hurt them in any way, they did not show it.

I would watch them when we would go out in the nights, moving through the sparse forests of this area of Thrace. Sometimes they would choose to roam and explore. Their movements were usually slow, but the glassiness of their eyes seemed to not affect their sight too greatly, for they did not often walk in to things. On the rare times they did, they'd pull back and look surprised. I had found that they seemed to be more emotive in death - showing more reaction and feeling than they had in life, even at their wildest. If they hit something hard enough, they would thread their way back to me and I would do what I could to ease them and that mare would stay close by me for a while, as if reassuring herself that it was all right. After a while, she would either get over it or forget it - I could not be sure which - but either way, the exploration would resume.

It was quite by chance that I discovered an interesting and important fact one night. I had learned early on that they did not need to eat to live, but I found that they could eat. Some small animal had died in their area and I happened to come upon them as they devoured it. I noticed later that the rate of decay slowed for a time after that.

I wondered why I hadn't thought of it myself. It made sense.

The night following this discovery, I traveled for a time until I came to a village where they did not know me on sight. There was a man traveling along the road. He was alone and there was no one else for a good space in either direction, so I knew that I had found the one that I needed. I stayed behind, far behind, for a while and just kept him at the edge of my sight. It was a lot like tracking animals, which is what he was.

Since I had never killed a human, I had to think carefully about the best way to do it. I could not be deterred from my plan by lack of knowledge, though, because my horses needed me to do this. The day following the consuming of that creature, when the decay lessened, I could see it in their eyes. It made such a difference that I could not ignore this chance, even though this process would not be simple or easy, I imagined.

It turned out to be easier than I had thought.

I found a rock on the side of the road. It was heavy, but still of a size to fit in one hand as I walked a little quicker, balancing on the balls of my feet to silence my steps as I approached the man. My power of soothing was weak on humans, but it was better than nothing. He did not turn around as I came up behind him and hit him hard on the back of the head, right where his neck met his skull. I had once seen a man of medicine use this on a soldier returned from a conflict who could not be saved nor spared. There was a slightly wet, thudding noise as the two connected. He made no sound as he crumbled on to the road way. I stared at the prone body for a moment and then knelt beside him. He was dead.

I next began the laborious process of dragging him to my home. I placed my arms under his, lifting him slightly and then pulling him over dirt and stone. He was heavy, but probably did not weigh much more than I did, so that made it easier. I kept to the very edge of the road, so that we could hide if any one else passed by.

Luckily, no one did.

When I reached my mares, I presented them with their meal and urged them to eat it, which they did, all descending upon it at once. It was food and that was all they needed to know. I was simply gratified to see their condition improve following that feeding.

When they nuzzled their noses against me, not as much of their fur and skin would chafe off. It was wonderful.

Quickly it became habit that every other night I would fetch them a fresh meal. They continued to improve, although their eyes never lost that milky sheen and their movements were never completely free of the awkward halting gait. They never breathed again, nor ever had their hearts beat again. I sometimes thought that they even seemed frustrated at times, as though their spirits and bodies were in conflict, but on the whole, they improved.

I did what I could to soothe them through out it all. I used my power as well as my simple presence. Eventually, I even began to sleep outside with them. They would gather as close as they could around me, their large bodies blocking each other some what, but not so much as to be a concern - they were close. I had no fear of them and they had none of me. It was like we held an unwritten promise that we would take care of each other... I at least knew that I promised them as much.

Unfortunately, I was so taken up with my care of them that I did not see what was happening around me. People knew I was hiding something and strange noises could be heard from the area of my home during the night. They also saw that people were going missing. They put it together, although they did not understand it. They simply connected the things together and decided to act on it.

This was all information that I would come to learn by other means much later on.

It was near dawn when they came: farmers and hunters armed with tools and weapons of their homes. Thrace was a warrior nation, but the warriors all seemed to be elsewhere that night, yet even one man with a kitchen knife can be lethal if he had the will to use it as such, and it seems that they did have such will.

I only knew they were there because my mares sensed them and roused one another, as well as me, before the men could grab me. They, my horses, were rearing and dancing, biting and pawing at the men. Such grace! The noises they made were bestial, almost not like horses at all, but like the wild and magnificent animals that I had always known them to be. If no one else would be loyal to me, they would.

At first, the men tried to push their way past them, but to no use. My mares were powerful and fierce. Their teeth were sharper than the average horse's and they were unafraid to make that fact known. In fear, the men backed up.

"What do you want?" I shouted at them over the noises of the horses while I hid in their protective cluster. It was a strange turn of events, for they circled around me like I was the foal and they were the protective circle.

"We want you to leave and to never come back!" one of the men shouted back at me, brandishing some farming tool he used to cultivate the crops that I helped him to grow.

Leave? I was in shock at the idea, but the seriousness of their demand was quite plain in the looks on their faces and the stances of their bodies. I may not have been like everyone else, but I had done good things for Thrace and this was how they treated me? I only ever wished to take care of my mares, who had as much right as any other to eat and live - such as it was. I stared for a long moment, but I knew that it was no good.

I kept my eyes firmly on the mob before us as I started backing in to the darkness of the forest behind us, using my power and connection with the horses to keep them with me, although they continued to dance in halting, frightening and powerful steps as we went. Anger seeded inside me once more as fear ebbed away and already I was adding these people to the list in my mind of those who would pay for what they had done to my horses, and to me. All things would come in time, but for now, there were more important matters to attend to.

When we were a safe distance away and there were no signs of our being followed, I turned to begin our escape in earnest and with greater speed. I only looked back once after that, only to see my home rising in flames.

It's been lifetimes since our arduous escape to Gaul, which we almost did not survive. We migrated through that land for a number of years that I do not now wish to count, but we survived - in what ways they survive anything, being that they are not precisely alive. I suppose I can only thank Demeter herself for my own survival, and longevity.

Later I would have my revenge, but that's another story and for another time. This one I must end here, for my mares are hungry.

About the Author: Mia Darien is an indie author of speculative fiction, and a New England Yankee transplanted into Alabama clay. No matter her geography, she continues to stubbornly and rebelliously live the life of her choosing along with her family and pets. She doesn't miss the snow.

You can connect with her at http://www.miadarien.com or on Facebook, Twitter or Goodreads!

Other Books by Mia Darien The Adelheid Series (Paranormal Suspense with a Dash of Romance) Cameron's Law When Forever Died Cats & Dogs (Between the Tales Short, Mailing List Exclusive) Voracious Family Matters (Between the Tales Short) Written All Over Her Welcome to Adelheid (Three Book Bundle) Stories from Sanctuary City (Post-Apocalyptic Erotic Romance) Sanctuary Refuge (Coming Soon) Turnabout Tales (Modern Fantasy/Romantic Fairy Tales) Sub Rosa Standalone Stories Deeper than Skin (Historical Romance) Steel Wings (Science Fiction Romance) C M Doporto Flesh Seekers PUBLISHED BY:.

CM Doporto Flesh Seekers Prequel Copyright 2013 by CM Doporto All Rights Reserved Thank you for downloading this free eBook. Although this is a free eBook, it remains the copyrighted property of the author and may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form for any commercial or non-commercial use without permission from the author. If you enjoyed this eBook, then please encourage your friends to download their own copy.

Published by: CM Doporto Cover art by: Cora Graphics Edited by: Sheri Spell 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 actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content. Any trademarks mentioned herein are not authorized by the trademark owners and do not in any way mean the work is sponsored by or associated with the trademark owners. Any trademarks used are specifically in a descriptive capacity.

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Flesh Seekers My heart beat rapidly. Pounding furiously within my chest. Ready to explode at any moment. I heard people talking all around me but I must have been out of it because I didn't understand what they were saying and I couldn't make out their faces. Death waited for me. But I wasn't ready to die. It sucked because no one could help me since I was one of them. You know, a Flesh Seeker, and that meant the end for me.

At nineteen, I had too much to live for. A beautiful girl and a baby on the way. A baby that I might not ever see and may not get to live. I heard her voice, the cute high pitched tone with the little Texas twang at the end. Kait's voice. Damn, I wish she was here with me now. She was everything I had dreamed of and wanted in a girl.

Yeah, I can hear my mamma. "Are you crazy muchacho? She's a Bolilla and her family won't approve of you going out with her."

I knew it would be far-fetched to get Kait to go out with me, but what did I have to lose? I was a Mexican with good looks along with a slim, muscular body and a talent for drawing. She wanted me; I knew by the way her eyes watched my every move in history class. I just needed the right opportunity to convince her to give me that chance. I still remember the day, like it was yesterday.

"Josh Sanchez, you and Kaitlyn Richardson will work together. Toby Bentley you'll be with Susan Silverman." The history teacher went on, going down the list, pairing us with a member of the opposite sex to do a project on Women's Rights. I didn't give a damn about the project, but Kaitlyn... hell yeah. She was fine! The high school cheerleader, the hottest blonde in the school, the most popular and the richest.

Even though Kait came from money, she wasn't the typical stuck up, snobby bitch like most popular chicks. She was different and that's why I liked her. She always made it a point to smile at me and say 'hi' when she passed me in the halls. I wanted to say 'hi' to her first, but I have to admit that she did intimidate me. So instead, I would wait for her to say it first.

"Hi, I'm Kait Richardson." She stood in front of me, holding out her hand and smiling.