Cimmerian Shade: A Limited Edition Paranormal Romance & Urban Fantasy Collection

by Kiki Howell

  Frowning, he stared out into the rain and wished he’d had the foresight to see what his life would become. Instead he’d been lulled into seeing what he wanted most. A wife. A family. Permanence.

  But now the only thing that remained was the ache in his bones and the certainty that his days were numbered.

  Jonathan had been so proud to show Heather the house after a few dates. She was the one he would spend the rest of his days with. And he was a good provider. So he brought her by his house, her eyes taking a sharp interest in the small cottage and the outlying woods. He hadn’t recognized it then. But he did now. It was the expression of a bird of prey ready to tear into its quarry.

  “Keep that house for me, Jonathan. “Heather had said, her eyes lingering on him like a kiss. “We’ll be happy there.”

  And they were. For a time. And then their daughter was born and everything changed. But he would bet with every breath left in his body that she was counting the days until he died. The way she watched him. And that bloody amulet she wore around her neck that she was always stroking. Every day that passed, she grew more vibrant and he grew weaker.

  Blood. Magic. Sex.

  Nightmare images that left him sweating in the night, his body chaffed and sore from God knew what.

  No.

  God had nothing to do with this. Whatever his Heather was up to, it was the devil’s work. Heather had become someone else when he wasn’t looking. Now he was faced with the never ending decay of his body and it was making him insane.

  It was almost as if he’d picked a vampire for a bride instead of the witch stock she told him she hailed from. He hadn’t believed her. What sane man would? But why couldn’t Heather have spent some of her hedge witchery or whatever the fuck it was and find him a cure for what ailed him?

  Because that would mean she cared. Even just a little.

  Instead she spent her hours in the room in the attic and he dared not venture up for fear of what he might find.

  No. What he wanted was his bones to stop throbbing, but that was too much to ask for. He should have gone back to bed, but Heather had surprised him, ushering him out the door into the wet with little explanation. The last few months all it took was a good rain to get his joints aching. He would have preferred his own doctor. Not hers, but he’d twisted his hip the night before in the bath and it ached beyond simple pain killers and rest.

  He’d called out to her in the night but she hadn’t come. They’d long since stopping sleeping in the same room but the fact of it still rankled. She was his wife, damn it.

  This ceaseless waiting had his patience frayed at the edges. Restless and edgy, he pressed the side of his forehead against the cool glass and stared out into the gray afternoon, wanting to be anywhere but here. He had been in this place many times. Another waiting room. Another hospital. My God, he was married to the Bride of fucking Frankenstein. Or was she Dracula, bloodless as she was? Hell, he didn’t even know anymore.

  All he knew was that he wanted it to stop. But that wasn’t exactly legal in medical terms. At the very least he wanted his own doctor, damn it. Down at the VA. Fat lot of good they’d done him but at least it was the setup he knew.

  God. He shifted in his chair and eyed his daughter. All Joanna did was sketch. And it was almost always the same damn picture too. The amulet and some kind of fight between the characters she’d drawn. He’d warned Heather that she’d been watching too much television. That she needed to read but she dismissed him, letting the girl watch endless hours of programs she had no business filling her head with.

  When he’d asked her about it, she’d merely given him one of her secretive smiles. Just like her mother.

  “One day, Daddy.”

  He had seen his share of doctors. His body betraying him a little more each day and she had the audacity to sit there in front of him in all of her icy perfection, not once meeting his eyes. It galled him to the core, and in moments like that, he loathed her.

  “Ah, how lovely to see you here again Mrs. Lisle.” The nurse erupted into the waiting room and guided them back to the familiar carpeted hallways of the surgeon's offices. “Mr. Lisle, I trust you are well today.”

  Jonathan clenched his teeth, anxiety knotting its way through his insides. Why was he even here? He nodded, his response on the barest edge of civility. “Nurse.” His wife looked over her shoulder, not even breaking stride. Her mass of red hair curled in seductive waves down her back, hips swaying with every footstep. The suit she wore clung to her body. No doubt for the doctor's benefit. It certainly wasn't for his.

  Or maybe it was. Just to prove a damned point.

  “Hurry up Jonathan.” Heather's voice, soft as velvet and swift as steel raked over him, piercing him with her sharp eyed gaze. How dare he lag behind?

  The damned amulet she always wore glittered in the over bright lighting and he had the urge to tear it from her neck and stomp it into a million pieces.

  His wife was a witch all right. He didn’t know what she was up to, but he could bet it wasn’t something for his best interest.

  Admiring her form as she strode down the hall, Jonathan marveled at the miracle of modern science. How many more procedures was she going to have? Breast enlargement, face lifts, tummy tucks, ass reduction, lip enhancement, liposuction...the list went on and on. At least, that was what he assumed she did when she came here.

  Jonathan couldn't keep track. He kept his stride steady, wincing as his bum knee kicked up, sending a shock of knife like pain through his body. Fuck. He stumbled and almost fell but the nurse stepped in to steady him. She lifted him, setting him to rights. Startled, he met her gaze and noticed the over brightness of her eyes and the porcelain flawlessness of her skin. It made his skin crawl. He shuddered, pushing her away. “I can walk. Thank you.”

  “Yes, sir.” The nurse's lips twisted into a smirk as she watched him amble in his laborious fashion behind his leggy wife. It was pathetic and he wasn't sure who he hated more. Her for her ivory perfection, or himself for getting old.

  The door to the doctor's office loomed large at the end of the hall. “Why the hell did you bring me here for, Heather?” He ground out as another nurse led them inside and closed the door. “I want my own doctor. Not one of your quacks.”

  His wife ignored him, seating herself in one of the padded chairs in front of a large desk. Jonathan picked a chair in the far corner of the room and lowered himself into it. Raincoat draped over his arm, he rifled through it for his e-reader, certain it had to be inside one of the voluminous pockets. Here, there was no rain to keep him company. Only the cold demeanor of a wife that merely tolerated the air he breathed. The salmon pink painted walls reminded him of the inside of someone's stomach. It was a wretched color.

  The door to the office opened and a swarthy, dark haired man in a white coat entered. “Ah, Mrs. Lisle. How wonderful. And you brought Jonathan with you this time I see. How excellent.” The doctor's dark eyes gleamed, his olive skin stretched taut over his high cheekbones. This was why she came here. To fawn over him. Disgust twisted his insides and he glowered at the wall. If anything was happening between them, Jonathan didn't want it thrust in his face.

  He struggled to get up, but it was easier sitting down than making his body move after it had been still. His knees buckled and he landed hard on the chair cushion, knocking the air out of his lungs with the effort.

  “Mr. Lisle. Where are you going? How rude of me.” He stepped around the desk, his face a mask of concern. “I should introduce myself. My name is Dr. Nairobi. I have been overseeing some of your wife's care.”

  “Doctor.” Jonathan bit out, anger at his body's betrayal seething through his blood.

  Heather twisted around and pursed her lips. “Doctor, if you would be so kind. I’ll wait in the hall with our daughter while you two talk.”

  “That would be fine. We’ll speak in a moment.”

  “Jonathan do what the doctor says.” She rose from the chair, laying a hand on Docto
r Nairobi's arm, setting Jonathan's blood boiling all over again. Nodding in his direction, she disappeared back through the door they had entered minutes before, leaving him alone.

  “Mr. Lisle, I assume Heather has explained to you what the purpose of today's visit is?” Dr. Nairobi approached, lowering himself in a chair across from him. “Your wife is an exceptional woman and has taken the treatments well over the years. By now, all of her spell work enhancements look natural and we wanted to approach you about doing the same.”

  What?

  Jonathan cleared his throat. “Doctor, I assure you, I don't need a tummy tuck or an ass lift. This old body has done me just fine over the years. If she prefers to see younger men such as yourself then more power to her. I'll be dead soon enough.” A cough rattled through his lungs and pain shot through his body as it was gripped in muscle contractions.

  The doctor stood and reached across the desk for a glass of water, setting it on the table in front of Jonathan. He took it with shaking hands, sucking down a much needed mouthful of liquid.

  “Thank you.” Jonathan set it down on the table.

  “That is precisely why we are here, Mr. Lisle. Your wife has explained to us you’ve been unwell of late. We’re interested in performing some of the same workings and modifications that have given your wife her youthful vitality.” The doctor's dark eyes met his as he struggled for breath.

  “I just told you, I don't need a fucking tummy tuck.” Jonathan ground out, exasperated. “What is it with you people?”

  Dr. Nairobi shook his head, frowning. “Ah. I see she did not explain.” He stood, his white coat draping around him like a priest's robes. He reached for the phone. “Maddy. Please send Dr. Faustus in.”

  “Faustus? What are you people doing, selling your souls to the devil?” Jonathan struggled to rise, but his movements slowed, his head growing muzzy. The water. The bastard must have drugged him.

  Fuck. He’d landed in the middle of Rosemary’s Baby or some such thing.

  “On the contrary, Mr. Lisle. On the contrary.” Nairobi smiled, his teeth white against the sharp planes of his olive complexion. “There is no devil here.”

  But when he moved, Jonathan caught a glimmer of a charm set against his throat. A closer look brought everything to bear. The amulet. He was wearing a smaller version of the same necklace his wife wore.

  Fear slid though him.

  What did it mean? Were they part of whatever cult he’d seen in the forest behind his house?

  The same door that Dr. Nairobi entered from opened, revealing a pale, elegant man with disturbing green eyes. As he turned toward the light, something in them flashed, sending a jolt of icy trepidation down his spine. The eyes. There was something almost inhuman about them. Like his wife's. Like the nurse.

  Green fucking fire.

  Oh God.

  He clenched his hands and swallowed.

  “Thank you for coming Geoff. Our newest subject is here. His wife contacted us this morning. Mr. Lisle's muscular degeneration is getting to a critical point and she thought he would be an excellent candidate for the next section of our male study.” Nairobi gestured to him, and Jonathan stared at them in horror. “Mr. Lisle, forgive the unfortunate nature of the drug. In order for us to do the proper workings, there is a need to keep you fully aware, but not ambulatory.”

  Workings?

  What? The? Fuck?

  “Nairobi. How wonderful. I have been waiting for a candidate that fit the requirements. The Society will be thrilled. Hello, Mr. Lisle. How lovely to meet you. Your wife has been one of our star candidates since her scare with breast cancer several years ago.”

  And there was that damned amulet again. How many of the fucking things were there? He was so focused he almost missed what the other doctor said.

  Breast cancer? Star candidate? What was he talking about? Why hadn't she told him? It made no sense. He tried to move but nothing was working. His eyes followed the doctors’ movements, but the rest of his body was frozen.

  “Yes indeed. She has adapted to the whole idea of a spell enhanced age regeneration regiment in quite a positive way. She looks only half her age, if I do say so myself.” Dr. Nairobi chuckled and pressed a buzzer on the desk. “Yes. Nurse. Please ready ritual room seven. We have a new whole process ready to begin.”

  Ritual room? His mind flashed on what he had seen in the darkness of the woods. The white nude form of a young woman. The blood, so black in the moonlight and the feeling of terror as he looked up to find eyes on him. All burning into his with a burning green fire that bottomed out any words he might have used to describe his horror. The memories tumbled through his brain and inside he started screaming, though all that emerged from his lips was a whimper.

  “You really are one of the lucky ones. Your wife was insistent that you be the next test subject.” Faustus opened the door as the nurse entered, pushing a gurney into the room. “Witchcraft can heal just about everything, can’t it?”

  As if encouraged by his silence, the doctor went on.

  “Spell crafting is becoming quite the rage in modern medical practice, my dear Mr. Lisle. Some vampire blood can do wonders to rid the body of unwanted deformities and ailments. Provided you are ready to assume the nature of the side effects. It all just depends on what you want most.” He hefted Jonathan's weight and settled him onto the gurney. “Cancer treatments, limb regeneration, weight control. There is no medical maleficence we can’t conquer. You inquired about the devil. Well, frail humanity is the disease that must be stamped out.” He pushed the gurney a little further and paused. “There. Now where were we?”

  “Modern medicine, sir.” The nurse smiled up at him, her over bright eyes catching the light.

  “Yes. Sex magic. Blood magic. Vampire blood. Shifter abilities. The sky is the limit. We just have to find out what yours are, Mr. Lisle.”

  Jonathan struggled against the paralysis, his body little more than a non-responsive wooden husk. The gurney rolled down another hallway, behind the offices and stopped in front of a large door.

  “Nurse, if you please.” Nairobi pushed Jonathan into what appeared to be a well-lit operating suite. This was a ritual room? His head lolled as they turned a corner and his eyes rested on one technician standing at a stainless steel operating table.

  “You're selection for this candidate is complete, doctors.” The tech turned to face the group and Jonathan's eyes met his. The phosphorus glow of the young man's gaze blazed into him as his body was lifted. Not human. None of them were. Were they all witches then? What were they going to do to him?

  He stared behind him to a table filled with knives and unfamiliar paraphernalia and unsuccessfully willed his body to move. Classical music filled the operating chamber, hiding the sounds of scissors cutting away the last of his clothing, leaving him naked and shivering in the harsh white light.

  “Ah. Thank you Maddy. I believe Mr. Lisle will prefer that to the sounds of the ritual room, won't you?” Nairobi approached, his face covered by a mask. Following close behind was Faustus. “Time to get started. We wouldn't want the drug to wear off before we've completed the rite, now would we?”

  Faustus pulled a gown over his clothes. “Just hold on Mr. Lisle. You are in superb hands. Why, you'd be surprised at just how many people have turned the war on cancer and human degeneration into a win for the Society. Eternal life is, after all, our mission.”

  The nurse approached dragging a rolling stand, a bottle of what appeared to be blood swinging with each tug.

  God.

  “I think you’ll find the vampire blood regenerative. Just lay back and let the transformation begin.”

  A movement out of the corner of Jonathan’s eye garnered his focus as the nurse slipped the needle into his arm. The door opened revealing a worried looking nurse and Jonathan could hear a series of howls and the sound of glass breaking.

  “Doctor, we have one of the wolves in Room Three starting to shift. The amulet...”

  �
��I’ll be along in a moment. Lock the emergency door to the cell block and bring down the steel shutters.”

  Wolves?

  “But doctor...”

  “Do it. Now.” His tone was biting and the nurse scurried back the way she’d come, the door to the operating room swinging shut behind her.

  There was a second operating table, and on it a young woman laid prone, her head lolling to the side as if she were sedated. Her body covered by only a thin paper sheet, her skin deathly pale. Then Jonathan’s eyes caught the strange markings on the floor.

  Written in powdery blue chalk, they resembled the circles he’d found after his wife and daughter had finished their workings at the house. The same burnt smell hovered in the air, combined with the cloying scent of incense. If he could have gagged he would have.

  He should have run away years ago. But every time he’d gotten close Heather had been there, convincing him to stay.

  God, he had been such a fool.

  Faustus placed an amulet around Jonathan’s neck and his flesh crawled with the energy leaching out of it. The thing burned against his chest but there was nothing he could do.

  The door to the operating room opened and another man stepped into the brightly lit space. Already wearing scrubs and a mask, the doctor moved in closer and the others backed away.

  “Ah. Dr. Mobius. Just in time.”

  “Yes.” Luminous green eyes stared down at Jonathan and the tremors of fear that had plagued him roared to life in earnest. “Move out of the circle. Now. See to the wolf.”

  His voice. It was...wrong.

  The assembled team backed out of the room, leaving Mobius standing within the confines of the circle. The only other person in the space was the still form of the girl on the table nearby.

  “How nice of you to join with us today, Jonathan Lisle. How nice indeed.” The air around the doctor shimmered, a circle bubbling up from the floor, encasing them both inside. The vampire blood sliding through his veins chilled him and startled, he found he was able to blink his eyes.

  Mobius stepped forward, a gleaming scalpel in his hand. “I summon you, Beranrepight. Come to me and receive my offering.”