Zero Hour: Prequel to the Order of the Dragon Series

by Glasneck, Tina

  “Dearest children, I come with news.” Freyja waved for them to rise, sauntered toward Alistair’s ornately carved desk and took a seat on the edge. “There is a reason that we are all hidden in plain sight. To have them disregard it threatens us all. Do we need to be reminded how it might be in an alternate version, alternate reality if the vampires ruled instead? The Order exists to protect both worlds: ours and theirs. They might be hell-bent on destroying the peace, but we must do better.” She stared at Killian.

  “The vampires are talking about Ásgeirr, again,” Alistair mentioned.

  Freyja frowned. “Yes, this is not the first time they have tried to free her.”

  “Free her?” Killian asked. “I thought my mother dethroned and killed her.”

  Freyja shook her head. “No, unfortunately, that was not the case. When the dragon queen was toppled, the heart devoured was not the heart that kept her alive.

  “Killian, you are to head to New York. However, you are to stay out of sight. Do no harm to the key or its vessel.”

  He didn’t understand. The best way to ensure that an enemy didn’t come back was to decimate it. Instead of responding, he glided his tongue over his teeth.

  “Instead, you are to activate the pack there. You will need them to quash this vampire rebellion, and to protect the key.” She reached for one of the apples and tossed it to him, waiting for him to eat the fruit of longevity.

  In no way was Killian immortal, but as the son of the Dragon Queen and Fenrir, he had the best of both of his parents. He was a dragon-wolf hybrid, and his royal blood granted him certain gifts from the gods, including the opportunity to eat Idunn’s apples of youth and vitality. So far, they’d kept him strong, appearing no more than twenty-five in human years, despite his age of over two hundred.

  “Protect but stay invisible?” he asked.

  “Yes, as she will have a part to play in the future which I’ve seen.”

  She must have been powerful to open the book. What could this witch do?

  “This is the battle I fear that will start a war between us all,” Killian admitted.

  Alistair shook his head and looked to Killian. In his mind, he spoke to his nephew, “If Freyja requires us not to slice and dice this latest threat, she must have a reason, and we are not to question it.”

  Killian gave a slight nod in response.

  “That is why I am here,” Freyja said. “What unfurls now is just the beginning, the zero hour. This tightrope you both must walk.”

  It will take me a couple of hours to get there, my Queen,” Killian said.

  “No, kin, it shall take you no more than the blink of an eye.” She placed her hands on his chest. Warmth filled him, almost soothing to his wolf. He watched the bamboo floor disappear, replaced with that of rainbow-streaked light, and the blaring horn of a taxi driver cursing him out.

  “Get the hell out of the middle of the street, shithead.”

  Killian stepped to the side, allowing the yellow cab to pass. New York City meant running with the other wolves, Odin’s wolves to be specific. Hailing a cab would take too long. Instead, he pivoted left and broke into a run. He’d need Beau Charming’s help.

  Chapter 5

  Leslie

  The grimoire sat unopened on Sunflower’s coffee table. Black candles flickered, while a white feather fluttered with each move, and what Sunflower had called, “the blood of the sacrifice” sat on a microscope’s slide.

  “You only need to drink this potion, and the worlds will open to you.” Sunflower blessed the purple vial with her athame and passed it my way.

  “We just ordered dinner. I don’t think I need something to get rid of my appetite.”

  Maybe Gran was right, and I needed to change things up some. Ordering dinner from Jordan was a great way to whet my appetite without the risk. I could flirt while toying with the tip, and maybe slip him my number. There was this flirty dance we’d been doing.

  At least I thought it might be.

  Then again, maybe it had to do with better tips.

  Could he really be flirting with me because I was a good tipper?

  My thoughts whirled, and what started as hopeful turned into a sinking feeling of yuck.

  “This isn’t to eat, but to begin the transformation,” Sunflower said.

  Uncorking the vial, it smelled like onions, sweaty socks, and ass with a hint of garlic. Not something I wished to put in my mouth.

  “Uh, are you sure?” I asked.

  “It only opens your third eye and awakens the magic already inside of you. Even now, I can see your aura practically glowing, acting as a beacon. The failed resurrection must have switched something on.”

  I wasn’t sure what that meant. I’d seen things since I was a kid, and part of that, being Gran. However, that of magical alchemy with sigils, Latin, and all of that with sparkling and glittered rich air was something out of Hollywood. Sure, the afterlife was real, but that didn’t mean I could suddenly become a witch.

  “A witch? Are you going to turn me into a witch?”

  Sunflower threw her head back and laughed. “No, you are no more a witch than my familiar here.” She pointed at her bearded dragon, currently devouring fresh strawberries.

  “So, what does it do?”

  “You can draw magic from those around you, taking on their properties. So, if they have some special power, well, you will be able to use it, too.”

  “Will it weaken them?”

  Sunflower shook her head. “My aunt told me that this is the best way to locate your special powers.”

  Her aunt, I’d heard a lot about. She did those late-night infomercials: the whole “Contact Madame Petulia to find out your future,” sort of thing.

  The future would be present soon enough. I was okay with discovering it without spoilers. The power to activate the spells in the book couldn’t wait too much longer.

  If Madam Petulia was the real deal or not was debatable.

  Holding my nose, I opened my mouth and chugged down the greenish whey mixture. Thick in my mouth, my throat refused to work.

  “Swallow it, Leslie,” Sunflower ordered with a laugh.

  I flipped her off only then to bang my hand on the table. The more I tried to drink this stuff, the thicker it became. Soon I’d have to chew it.

  Like one of those revolting weight-loss shakes, I pushed through the horrible taste, happy to see the bottom of the vial.

  “It was only a couple of tablespoons.”

  Maybe she thought sixteen ounces of yuck created the best penance for what I was about to do.

  My stomach spasmed.

  Sunflower then rose from her seat and drew a sigil on her living room floor. Stepping into the circle, different energy battered me. The air smelled of charred wood, like someone had lit up their fireplace.

  Suddenly, the untouched book, opened. The pages of the grimoire rapidly turned, creating a slight breeze. The nearby crystals chimed. The music box on Sunflower’s desk played an eerie tune until the page-flipping stopped and landed on a spell titled, Carpe Nochtem.

  The candles flickered again, and I watched the words whirl on the page, as if waiting for me to speak them. The book practically called to me, wanting me to utter those words, pulling them from my soul.

  In the melody of the Humpty Dumpty nursery rhyme, I recited them as they appeared, understanding only resurrection mortuorum—resurrection of the dead.

  Boom, boom, boom. “Shut up that noise, you two.” Sunflower’s neighbor from below must have been banging his broomstick on his ceiling. The room practically rattled. The dishes shook, the glasses clanked.

  Unbidden, Sunflower passed me the athame and I sliced my palm, sealing the incantation with my sacrifice. A loud roaring lit up my head as if banshees shrieked free, awakened from their eternal rest. The words then lifted from the page, swirled before me, to come to rest on my skin, soaking into it like rain on dry land.

  The feeling of pine needles prickling my skin combined wit
h sharp stones, until it turned to an uncomfortable heat. I glanced at my arms and saw what looked like black ink crawling up my veins, as if unfathomable darkness was prying its way into my body. It pushed me back into the recesses of my mind so that I became an unwilling participant.

  The room melted away.

  I stared at this woman in white, with wheat-colored hair. It was like she wanted to tell me something, but her lips were gone, as though they had been erased. Her eyes were as big as saucers. An ancient drumbeat called forth something in my soul. It was night and day all at once: both the moon and sun shone, and around me, Valkyries fluttered swinging scythes.

  “I don’t understand.” I shook my head.

  Her hands went blue as if intense flames engulfed them, and a power I’d never known coursed through me. Lips finally formed the word: “Fight.”

  “Whoa, that must have been some good shit,” Sunflower muttered, fanning my face as I came to.

  However, now, we weren’t alone. Three men were there with us, and one included the face I’d dreamt about caressing: Sam Dolomite. Or at least a close copy. Out of the corner of my eye, I could tell that they didn’t quite move like normal humans, though.

  “Your spell called us,” one of the men said. He must have been the leader. He was gorgeous, like he’d been sculpted out of marble with sharp cheekbones—my weakness. His accent was English, and knowing my luck, he had a tragic backstory. Emo black hair framed his chiseled face. He towered, but it was the twinkle in his bright blue eyes that made me pause.

  My head hurt with danger. Whatever was in me knew that this was a fight-or-flight situation. My kindergarten street-fighting skills were not going to get me far. Maybe I could bluff my way out.

  “We’ve looked all over the city for this one, Sam,” one of the smaller men said.

  I glanced over to Sunflower, and she must have fallen for their bait. Almost drunk, she stumbled over to one of them, tossed her purple hair over her shoulder, and leaned her neck as if waiting for a love bite.

  It was the canines extending on the one next to Sunflower who made me scamper backward.

  Vampires?

  These were not the good guys for sure.

  A knock sounded at the door. “Mm, I smell Nigerian food,” one said.

  I gulped. That was Jordan, whom I’d ordered dinner from for me and Sunflower to share.

  The ugly vampire ripped open the door, pulled Jordan in, and before he could react, attacked.

  I screamed, and the apartment shook.

  There was only one way out, and they’d blocked it. Could the blue magic from the vision be my saving grace?

  No time like the present to see how truthful it was.

  I couldn’t leave Jordan here, though. Soon they’d both drain him, and then help would be too late.

  I raised my hand, but nothing happened.

  “I thought this one would put up somewhat of a fight,” said Sam.

  I kicked out, ignoring the pain. Seeing the silver athame on Sunflower’s table, I snatched it up.

  “Finish up, guys, as I think we will get home in time for a luscious dessert,” Sam chided. He stalked forward, grabbed me by my hair, and yanked me backward.

  Darkness tinged my vision.

  With one quick turn, like a seasoned fighter, I pivoted, pulling his arm until it broke in two, and stabbed him in the neck with the ceremonial knife.

  I wanted him to die again and again.

  I wanted to resurrect him so he could feel my rage and kill him all over again.

  I moved forward as he stumbled backward.

  Crimson-colored blood bubbled like he was limestone, and the silver was hydrochloric acid. He’d not paid enough for attacking me. Punching forward through his sternum, I seized his still-beating heart, and squeezed.

  The more I squeezed, the more he whimpered in pain.

  The edges of darkness and power were so tempting.

  The other two vampires left Jordan and Sunflower alone, dropping them to attend to Sam.

  The sound of the bodies hitting the floor with a loud thud cleared my darkened vision.

  What the hell was happening? My clothes were blood-soaked. My hands covered. This was now a crime scene. I couldn’t get caught up in this. I quickly gathered up the book, and with a long sorrowful look at a now-dead Sunflower and Jordan, I dashed out the door.

  I was no good dead.

  Without looking back, I raced away.

  Chapter 6

  Leslie

  I couldn’t have done that myself. Were those really vampires? Were Sunflower and Jordan dead?

  Questions revved up my fear even more. A stitch in my side, I pushed on.

  Shadows followed me toward the train station. In those shadows was something feral.

  The street lights didn’t provide enough illumination, and for the city that never sleeps, it was too quiet, like someone had cleared the street.

  Who were they? Why were they after me?

  The panting in my ears gave me no peace, echoing the galloping of my heart and quickened gait.

  I pulled my coat tighter around me, despite the lack of a chill. Tonight was not the New York I knew. This was mad occult stuff that Gran had tried to warn me about.

  I couldn’t shake the image of that woman with the long wheat-colored hair in my mind. Who was she? What was this power? What did it all mean?

  My only thought was to get away as far and quick as I could. I raced back toward the train station, into the public bathroom, locking the door behind me. In the grime-and graffiti-covered single room toilet, it stank of old urine and feces.

  Those were the least of my worries.

  I quickly turned on the water and tried to scrub away the redness on my palms, my jacket. I couldn’t tell if it was mine or someone else’s. My head hurt from the vampire’s solid hold.

  There was no one I could call, warn, or even ask for help. Vampires were supposed to just be lore. This was so much more. If vampires were real, did that mean that all of the other creatures were, too? I couldn’t wait in the bathroom to find out. The quicker I got home, and further away from this mess, the better chance I had at surviving the night.

  I could think about thriving tomorrow.

  Far from calm, and now wet, I sped toward the platform only to see my train chugging away.

  I’d just wanted to talk to my dad, but I was sure I must have awoken something else.

  The hairs on the back of my neck rose. My stomach churned. My palms grew sweaty. The black ink under my skin crawled, humming a tune that only I could hear.

  I would not die today.

  I looked over my shoulder, waiting for the nightmare to continue. The platform was eerily empty.

  Again, I looked down at my hands, and the blackness under the skin crawled.

  Did my fear activate it?

  Just as I pivoted to head back up to the street, I heard an evil laugh on the platform, and there, six vampires stood, including the two from Sunflower’s apartment.

  Behind me, on the other side, I heard a loud snarl and turned to see five wolves, but they weren’t the normal kind. Larger than dire wolves with thick fur in varying shades of gray, brown, and black, they stalked forward with their teeth bared.

  Was this a supernatural melee of vampires versus wolves? Where did I fit in this?

  With both exits blocked, I moved closer to the edge of the platform, when the fighting moved too close to me.

  One of the wolves, which was larger than the others—his bite seemed even more brutal. His teeth were like razor-sharp blades, and every strike the vampires made against him, bounced. He advanced on one of the vampires and practically snapped him in two with his bite.

  Taking one step too many, I fell backward. I flung my arms out, catching nothing but air, and landed with a loud oomph.

  In the distance, I heard the train’s horn blaring, felt the track vibrating through my tan coat, and saw the train's light rounding the bend.

  “Help,” I
screamed, but vampires and wolves were too busy scrapping to pay attention to poor little me. Scrambling to the side, too short to jump up, too out of shape to pull myself to safety, all I could do was plead for help.

  “Summon me,” the voice in my head spoke. “Call my name. Call forth Ásgeirr.”

  The tracks continued to rattle. The brawl now sounded like a cat in heat. My heart thudded in my ears.

  This was it.

  I was going to get smashed by the train.

  The lights appeared ever closer, the horn louder. I stared, paralyzed, and gasped for one last breath.

  The train’s brakes sparked.

  One last scream was what I needed.

  I braced myself and held out my palm as if it could stop the train.

  “Ásgeirr.”

  Something within me cracked. The ground rumbled and ruptured beneath me. The tracks squeezed like someone had crushed a metal can and broke it in two, as if bent by invisible hands.

  The melee behind me stopped, and the vampires scurried away. The wolves gave chase, all but one.

  A human hand snatched me up by the scruff of my clothes and pulled me to safety.

  “You shouldn’t play with magic,” the man said, and I could have sworn that he’d been a wolf only seconds before. With an athletic build, I never would have suspected him of being that powerful beast. His dark-brown hair was slicked back. Large aviator sunglasses covered his eyes, and with a thick Eastern European accent, I couldn’t tell if he was putting on airs. Nor did I care.

  He yanked me out of harm’s way.

  I didn’t want his name. I didn’t want him to touch me. I only wanted life to return to what it had been before I’d opened up that damn book.

  I dropped to my knees—the book thudding to the concrete in my bag.

  “You have caused us many problems, seer.”

  He leaned forward and blew white powder into my face, which I unwantedly inhaled.

  Was he a good guy or a bad guy, too? It was too late to know.

  Chapter 7

  Killian