Summary: 
In this thrilling short story (part one of fifteen) fifteen year old Malik Presley has found himself in the middle of the woods in and old abandoned cabin hiding form Volotors.

He ran breathless and frantic through the scarcely illuminated forest, which had just enough light to prevent him from tripping. “What is that?” 15 year old Malik Presley thought. “Hooves? Paws?” But it was not worth turning around and slowing down for. It was getting closer and closer and he was growing more tired. He saw a light a head; his heart skipped a beat (which he thought impossible because he felt as if his heart was beating out of his chest).

He was so relieved.

“HELP! HELP! HELP!” he shouted as he approached the light.

He arrived at an old broken down cabin, running up the porch, yelling “HELP! HELP!” while banging down the door. To his great relief, a man came out with a shotgun and fired three shots which seemed to have scared the creature off.

“Thank you” Malik said looking up at the rather tall plump man.

“No problem” the tall man replied as if this was an everyday occurrence. “What's your name?”

“Ma—lik” he stammered at this question as if he had forgotten his name.

“Yours?”

“Jason” said the tall man.  “How about we go inside?”

The inside was about as ugly as the outside; The floor was dirty, dishes were piled to the ceiling, clothes were everywhere and spiders could be seen in every nook and corner of the house.

“I know that the place is a little dirty” he said looking at Malik’s expressions as he surveyed the dirty house “but you won’t be here forever”.

Malik stood there in silence, still taking in what had just happened, when the silence was broken by gunshots.

“What was that?” Malik said hysterically, crawling under the nearest table (which had 3 legs and a stack of thick leather bound books holding up the forth).

“Oh Master Tony and Madam Zelea are here,” he said running towards the door.

The door opened slowly and a girl appeared. She was a little bit shorter than Jason, with pale skin, light green eyes, short dark hair, and dressed in a black leather suit. Zelea was followed by Tony, a very tall man (the tallest of the three, head almost touching the very tall door post) with long sleek silky hair and very muscular arms, both occupied with guns.

“Oh Master, Madam may I take your coat?” said Jason.

They acted as if he had not even spoken as their eyes were fixed intently on Malik.

“Who is this?”Zelea snapped.

“Madam Zelea, this is— ” but he was cut off by Zelea who gave him a cold look.

“Oh shut up you fat oaf! And you,” she barked at Malik. “Get out!”

“But something was following, well, chasing me” he said slowly and cautiously.

“That's not our—”but what Malik said had just dawned on her. “What exactly was chasing you?” she said slowly and nervously.

He was being stared at with rapt attention. “Uh I am not even sure what it was. All I know is that it was big and— ”

“They’re back” she said sounding even more nervous.

He had a strong feeling that whatever it was it was not good.

“What are back?” Malik said blankly

“Voltors” Tony said calmly, with closed eyes, giving no attention to the presence of Malik.

“Voltors?” Malik said blankly looking at Jason, who was wearing a very disappointed look.

“Well… How do I put this...” he said thinking.  “They are half-man, half giant mutant dogs…mad things, those Voltors. Very cold hearted beast that they are.  Almost wiped out our kind two years ago when those damn God forsaken things came about.”

“Our kind? What kind are you guys? Who did they wipe out? How did you three survived?” Malik rambled

“Oh My God, don't you ever shut up.” Zelea said coldly still wearing her worried expression.

Tony looked up at the clock above him, it was almost midnight (it was twenty minutes to midnight). “Well darling, you’ve had a long day. You ought to be in bed. Jason, please take the guest to the spare room upstairs.”

“Yes Master”. Following Jason, Malik went to the guest room, which was located on the third floor on the left.  After Jason excused himself, Malik went to bed that night with so many unanswered questions. As he stared out the east window, these questions filled his thoughts, one after another. What are they? Who are they? What business did they have out here in the middle of nowhere? What was out there? It felt as if he had a heavy trunk on his back. As the thoughts wandered inward, subconsciously he drifted away into oblivion, taking his thoughts with him.

A Hundred miles from where he was, in an enormous, secret underground castle, a Voltor (human form) entered walking down the dark halls. He knocked on a door that was twice his size where a crisp, cold voice that gave him permission to enter. The voice was that of a very pretty woman, with red eyes, light gold hair which held an elegant bun and pale skin. She was sitting crossed legged on what looked like her throne, in an impeccable exquisite black gown and holding an encrusted staff. The man approached her bowed and said “My Queen, it is done.”